"No worries.” Adin looked her up and down. “You all right, Des? I've never seen you look so pale."
"I'm fine. Marcel and Aiken, however, are shot up a little, and Orde didn't exactly get away with just a scratch, either."
"And you're bleeding like a stuck pig,” Simon said bluntly, hiding his anxiety. “Lass, you need to get inside a ship and be attended to."
Moresby glanced up from where he was checking Marcel. “Good idea, trader. There's not much I can do out here. Get them aboard your ship where I can start assessing them properly."
"His ship?” Des glared down at Moresby. “Didn't you bring your ship?"
"Didn't have time. One of these giants practically dragged me from the clinic and aboard their ship. And besides, there wasn't a whole lot of choice. My apprentice has the ship for several births he's attending on outlying farms. There was no time to call it back. So here I am. I—” His gaze lit up as a small medical carrier flew overhead and circled. “My ship!"
"Actually, that's my medic,” Adin said. “But he'll help get Des and her men back home."
Simon was torn between relief that there would be proper medical equipment aboard, and regret that he couldn't keep Des with him.
The medical carrier landed and a medic and two medical apprentices hurried down the ramp with two fold-up stretchers.
"Time to go, Des.” Moresby stood up. “Head for that ship."
Simon half expected Des to get her back up and argue. Instead, she glanced at her two men and nodded slowly. “Very well. But first I want to see that Aiken gets down all right. I don't even know if he's alive."
"I'm right here,” Aiken spoke through the communication receiver. “And no worse off than before."
Shamon and Heddam came forward and took one of the stretchers. “We'll help carry."
They followed one of the apprentices up the slope into the cave, while the other apprentice laid the second stretcher beside Marcel, who was still unconscious and didn't stir when the apprentice and the medic lifted him over onto the stretcher.
Within minutes Shamon and Heddam reappeared with Aiken lying on the stretcher.
"Damn,” Des said as the stretcher was carried past. “Nothing like lying back on the job, Aiken."
"Lazy bloke.” Orde started to push away from the boulder he was leaning against, only to grimace and suck in his breath.
Immediately the second medic was by his side, wrapping one arm around his waist to steady him. “We'll get another stretcher—"
"I can walk.” Orde insisted. “I just need a hand."
The medic started to assist him towards the medic ship, which had been parked nearby.
That simply left Des. Simon and Adin both looked at her.
"I'm coming.” Straightening, she started moving carefully away from the boulder.
Now Simon could see what had been trickling down the boulder, and he sprang forward with a curse. “Hell, Des! You're bleeding all over everything!"
"There's plenty more where that came from, and I'm sure nature won't mind anyway."
"Damn it, Des!” Adin reached for her at the same time as Simon. “You're hurt more than you let on!"
"I'm fine.” She swatted Adin's hand away. Almost as soon as she'd done so, her knees started to buckle. “Or maybe not."
"Des!” Simon caught her up against his chest, steadying her with his arm around her waist.
"Odd,” she whispered. “Where's the daylight gone?"
Even as her body went limp, Simon swung her up into his arms. “Medic!"
Moresby, who had been following one of the stretchers back to the medic ship, turned, saw what had happened and swore. He met Simon partway and reached out to check Des's pulse.
"Well?” Simon demanded.
"I won't know anything until I've done a full examination. I need to get them all inside and back to Tyron."
A stretcher was already situated outside the ship, and Simon gently laid Des down upon it. With quiet efficiency, the apprentices had the stretcher up and slid into the holding bay of the medic ship.
"Will she be all right?” Worry gnawed at Simon and he looked past the medic to the interior of the medic ship.
"Like I said, I don't know.” Climbing the few steps to the doorway of the medical ship, he glanced over his shoulder. “I'd invite you to come, but there's not much room as it is."
"Nay, ‘tis fine. ‘Tis more important that she—and the others—get proper treatment.” Stepping back from the ship and watching the door slide down was one of the hardest things he'd had to do in a long time.
Aamun stepped up beside him and they both watched the ship lift, then soar towards the settlement of Tyron.
"She's a tough lass.” Aamun laid his hand on Simon's shoulder.
"Aye.” Simon took a deep breath.
Before the traders could move far, Adin met them. His gaze was serious. “I want to thank you for everything you traders did today."
"'Twas nothing."
"It was a lot. If not for you, the communications and the channeling would not have been done so efficiently, and certainly not in time.” Adin shook his head. “Des, Marcel, Aiken and Orde would be dead by now. And I mean dead. There's no way they'd have gone down still breathing."
That on its own was enough to make the tension in Simon's gut coil tighter. The thought that Des might now be lying on the ground with her life's blood pooling, and no doubt her body still being used by outlaws ... His jaw clenched. “Do you have any idea what's happening?"
Adin looked curiously at him. “You don't know?"
"Know what?"
"Hmm.” The peacekeeper stroked his jaw consideringly.
Impatiently, Simon folded his arms.
"Nothing.” Adin shook his head. “Just law business.” He gestured to one of his men. “Take the prisoners to Sharver."
"Didn't Des want them at her place?” Aamun asked curiously.
"That was the original plan, but now she's down as well as three of her men. Until she regains consciousness and is able to function at full capacity again, I'll keep the prisoners with me.” Adin frowned. “She's got enough trouble with her injuries, without worrying about these prisoners."
"She's not going to like that, I'm guessing.” Aamun raised one brow.
"Des might be hot-tempered, but she's got a good head on her shoulders. Trust me, she would do the same if the situation were reversed.” Adin nodded to them. “I'll no doubt see you later."
While Adin walked back towards his pursuit craft, Simon strode back to his ship. “Come on. I want to get back to the settlement and check up on Des."
His crew were waiting for him when he entered the cargo hold.
"Mikal is waiting for the word to lift off,” Torkra announced.
"Give it. I want to get back to Tyron as soon as possible."
* * * *
"You did what?” Tyson bellowed.
"Well, it was only one pursuit craft at first, and we didn't expect it to come into the area—"
"Then what the hell were you doing? Didn't you pick it up on your scanners?"
The outlaw blinked nervously. “By the time we did, the peacekeeper had already spotted some of the men below, as well as one of the fighter craft. We reacted instinctively."
"You got him, yes. But you failed, you idiot!"
"Failed? But the ship is safe, we brought it back and—"
"Thanks to the stupidity of you and the others, your blood-lust and inability to think with your brains, those peacekeepers were crawling all over the place in no time!” Tyson fisted his hands. “You stupid bastards!"
The outlaw scowled. “I thought the scanner and communications system at the Enforcer Building were dealt with, anyway?"
"They were, but something went wrong!” Grabbing the outlaw by the shirtfront, Tyson jerked him close. “You were in charge of that little exercise, and you failed."
"The exercise was to put the ship through its paces and go through the plan and practice—ur
k!” He choked off, blood gushing from his mouth, his eyes wide.
He was dead before he hit the ground.
Giving the body a savage kick, Tyson snarled at the other two outlaws standing quietly. “Take him outside and hang him from ceiling in the men's house. I want them all to see what the next one who stuffs up so badly can expect to happen to him!” He wiped the blood from his dagger with a cloth.
Now he had the chore of telling the leader what had happened. Then again, if he kept quiet ... No, that was wishful thinking. It wasn't just a couple of outlaws that had died.
Damn it all to hell and back.
Going into the room he'd had set-up for communications, he hadn't even reached for the connection switch before the viscomm flared to life and Canute was looking coldly at him.
"Report,” Canute said, his voice quiet but deadly.
Tyson cleared his throat. “There was a bit of a muck-up—"
"There was a huge mistake made today. Tell me about it."
"The ship was being put through its paces, and the men were practicing—"
"Put through its paces?” Canute's normally expressionless face was tight with fury. “The energy is not to be wasted. That ship will perform when needed, and until that time, it will remain grounded. Do you understand me?"
"Yes.” Anger mixed with embarrassment trickled through Tyson.
"Many men died today.” Canute rapped his knuckles sharply on the desk. “They were practicing, you said?"
"For the attack. Just a bit of fighting, signals, that sort of thing. The pursuit craft was upon them before they realized—"
"Your men are sloppy, Tyson. Get them up to scratch or you'll be the one swinging from the post."
How did he know about that? The idea of an informant in his camp was bitter, but there wasn't much he could do about it. “I'll get right onto it."
Canute's eyes narrowed. “I hear The Demon was shot up pretty bad."
"But she lives,” Tyson replied swiftly. “The peacekeepers came from Sharver, and she was reportedly taken back to Tyron."
"Fortunately for you.” Leaning forward, Canute pierced him with an intense gaze. “Under no circumstance is The Demon to be killed. No one is to rape her, beat her, or do anything to harm her when the time comes."
"She won't sit quietly when the time comes.” Tyson scowled.
"Reasonable force only. I have heard she's been injured, but won't die. That's fortunate for you and your men, Tyson, for if it had been otherwise, your whole camp would be wiped out by now. You'd be nothing but a smoking skeleton, and those bits scattered to the four winds.” Canute leaned back in his chair, but his eyes didn't lose their intensity. “Levi and Ruan are under no illusions as to what will befall them if The Demon is hurt by their hands, or perishes. Spread the word amongst those of your men who have survived, Tyson. Let them know that she's under my personal protection. Understood?"
"Yes."
"Suspicion is rife. The peacekeepers will know that something is going on now. The operation will be put on hold, and all the men are to go to ground. Understand?"
"Yes."
The screen went blank, and Tyson cursed. He didn't understand. He didn't understand at all. What was The Demon to Canute that she would be under his protection and not to be harmed, but be presented to Canute if the opportunity arose?
What hold did The Demon have on Canute?
And how the hell was he supposed to keep some of the most blood-thirsty outlaws around sitting and twiddling their thumbs?
* * * *
The traders looked up from eating their midday meal when Simon entered the dining cabin.
"How's the lass?” Shamon queried. “Still in the medical clinic?"
"Fine, from what the medic told me.” Sighing, Simon poured himself a hot cup of una. “She's not for visitors until tomorrow at the earliest."
"Her injuries weren't as bad as they first appeared?” Aamun frowned. “She and her men were covered in blood."
"They've been stitched and patched, Moresby informed me.” Simon sat down on a stool at the table. “Apparently the injuries aren't light, but not enough to be deemed in danger."
"Nasty business.” Mikal shook his head. “'Tis the problem when lasses are out in danger."
Shamon grinned at the younger trader. “I'll be sure to mention how you feel to Sabra and the Reekas."
"Do that, and I'll be the one in danger,” Mikal retorted amidst the laughter of his friends.
"Come, now,” Heddam chided him. “You've been around the wenches long enough to realize that some of them can hold their own against the male of the species."
"After all, look how many of us have been tamed by them already,” Kel added.
"And just be grateful that none of them can hear you now.” Heddam took a mouthful of stew and shook his head. “They'd have you strung up in seconds."
Good-natured ribbing took place, and Simon smiled but didn't join in, his thoughts wandering. There was something wrong about the events of the morning.
"Simon? Hello? Are you hearing us?"
Startled, he blinked to find his friends all looking at him in amusement.
"Apologies,” he grunted.
Heddam leaned his forearm on the table. “I'm thinking a certain Demon is in your thoughts right now. Would I be right?"
"'Tis something going on.” Simon took a sip of the hot una.
"With Des?"
"With the settlement. This place."
Torkra chewed thoughtfully on a large bite of sandwich, swallowed and stated, “'Tis always something going on in the Outlaw Sector."
"Aye, but we're on the outskirts. What ‘tis been happening seems to be worse than normal for the outskirts.” Simon frowned.
"Peacekeepers getting shot up isn't that uncommon, nor the innocent settlers,” Torkra replied. “'Tis not unknown for outlaws to shoot up a settlement now and again."
"'Tis something more, though.” Aamun fiddled with his fork. “I agree with Simon. A group of outlaws and a mystery ship that is faster than anyone has ever heard of?"
Torkra shrugged. “'Tis odd, the mystery ship. But then again, many unusual things occur the further into the Outlaw Sector you travel."
Simon nodded. “'Tis true, I'll not argue that. But why didn't the outlaws kill the peacekeepers when they had the chance?"
"Aye.” Shamon looked up from his steaming plate of stew. “'Tis a good point. Did you hear what one of the outlaws shouted?"
"Don't kill The Demon.” Torkra stopped eating. “I doubt ‘twould be because she is a wench."
"Aye.” Simon took another sip of una. “Outlaws would be happy to kill a peacekeeper, wench or not."
"A wench would be prime entertainment for them alive.” Mikal, Torkra's brother, looked a little seedy. “I heard what they were yelling at her ... the threats."
Seated around the table in the dining cabin, the traders looked soberly at each other.
Remembering the threats, the crudeness, made Simon's blood boil. If Des hadn't killed Stone, he'd have wrung the bastard's neck himself and not flinched in the act. Just the thought of her tied down and helpless ... the mug in his hand cracked under the pressure of his fingers, and hot una trickled out onto his fingers.
"Ouch!” With a yell of surprised pain, he released the mug.
Torkra chortled, and the guffaws spread around the table.
"I think a certain peacekeeper is getting our friend a little steamed up.” Heddam winked at Kel.
"I agree.” Kel winked back.
Retrieving a cloth from the cupboard, Simon wrapped it around the mug and tossed it into the disposal bin. Sitting back down, he mopped up the spilt drink.
"So, what's your thoughts?” Aamun queried, watching him steadily.
Simon glanced up. “Hmm?"
"I doubt you're simply going to sit back and watch the events unfold without doing something."
Simon grinned faintly. “How transparent am I?"
"Very.” Aamun
raised one brow slightly. “Well?"
Simon pushed the cloth aside and rested his forearms on the table. Soberly he regarded his friends. “I'm going to see if any of our friends know anything about the mystery ship."
"The Argons are the only ones we know of who have the fleet crafts.” Shamon scratched his beard idly. “They don't know anything about these mystery ships."
"Nor do the Reekas, the Saalms, the Felys, the Lypeople, or anyone else we can think of,” Jarack added.
"'Tis true, but I haven't exhausted all avenues yet.” Simon rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “'Tis still a couple of friends around with more knowledge of what might be happening."
"Ah, you're thinking of Sonja's pirates.” Torkra grinned. “Shamon would be best to check them out. I'm sure Illona would be more than pleased to fill him in on any details.” He turned to look at Shamon, who was grimacing. “You could sweet-talk her into anything."
"That wench scares me."
A rumble of mirth went around the occupants of the dining cabin, for it was well-known that Illona liked Shamon ... a lot. Then again, it was also well-known that Illona liked any man that was capable of a good time, and equally true that she targeted Shamon as soon as she saw him.
"'Tis your job, then, to ask the pirates,” Simon announced, grinning.
"Thanks.” Shamon sighed heavily.
"Meanwhile, I'll see if Sabra knows anything."
Aamun shrugged. “That lass won't tell you if it's not supposed to be known."
"Still worth a try."
"True."
"She could ask the bounty hunters for us."
"She probably will, but that might bring them here,” Aamun pointed out.
"'Twouldn't be a bad thing,” Simon replied. “The law here is down three peacekeepers, and one of those still walking has a broken wrist. Having bounty hunters here wouldn't be such a bad thing at all."
"You could be right there."
"So we're sticking around for a while?” Mikal queried.
Every gaze fell on Simon.
"We're here for another five days.” He shrugged. “Might as well see what we can discover while here. What else are we going to do with our time?"
"Wench?” Torkra said hopefully.
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