Heart of a Peacekeeper

by Angela Verdenius

The ramp was half lowered, making it an even shelf, and braced dangerously against the ramp hoists were another five traders. Five ropes hung down, and each trader had the rope around the ramp hoists.

  "They're going to crash into us!” She began, horrified.

  "Nay, Aamun's flying, and he's an excellent pilot.” Simon tightened his hold on her waist and lifted one hand.

  Oh crap! Now she understood the purpose of the ropes. Setting her jaw, she also reached up her cuffed hands, swearing at the confinement.

  "Don't worry, lass,” Simon said, “I won't let you go."

  "I trust you, Simon, but I intend to help where I can."

  "Stubborn wench."

  Then there was no time to think anymore. The trade ship swooped down dangerously low, and the five traders grabbed hold of the dangling ropes. Simon did it one-handed, and Des bit her lip hard when she saw the bulge of muscle in his arm as he took both their weights on one arm. His knuckles were white, and his arm around her waist was like a band of iron.

  She had just enough time to grab the rope as well before the ship swept them off the verandah roof, and she had to bite her lip against the roil of nausea that went through her unexpectedly when the wind caught at them and the rooftops flashed beneath them. They swayed dangerously in the air.

  Laser fire peppered the air around them, and a pursuit craft flew around to spray the ground below with laser gunfire, making the outlaws run for cover.

  While that happened, Des realized that the traders on the ramp were pulling up their friends. Looking up into the determined faces, she found Kel's hands grabbing her under the arms and pulling her from Simon's grasp, and she quickly released the rope and was pulled up onto the ramp. Almost immediately another trader came up behind her as the wind buffeted her, and she found an arm banding around her waist and a hard body at her back. Lifted easily off her feet, she was carried into the refuge of the cargo hold.

  Coming out of the wind into stillness, every trader stumbled a little, but the trader holding her didn't let go until Simon's voice spoke behind her, then she found herself relinquished into his embrace.

  She went willingly, shaking inwardly from the effects of the fast, dangerous trip, the whirlwind rescue, but the hell if she was going to admit it to anyone.

  "Sweet lass.” He cradled her to him fiercely. “'Tis all right. You're safe.” He kissed her forehead.

  "All in?” Aamun's voice came over the intercom.

  "Aye,” Mikal replied. “All in and safe."

  "Wait!” Des pushed back. “Canute—"

  "I see him!” Torkra shouted from where he knelt on the ramp. “The bastard's going to get away down there!"

  "Aamun!” Simon shouted.

  "I'm on it!"

  Simon strode over to the ramp, grabbing a manblaster on his way. Des followed him, Kel's hands on her shoulders steadying her against the buffeting wind.

  The wind tugged at Simon's cloak, blowing it back, and it tugged at his hair. The thick tresses were confined at his nape, but the loose strands that trailed over his shoulders blew back.

  In that moment, as he looked down towards the ground while Aamun swung the ship around, Des saw the dangerous side to him. To all the traders.

  She'd heard stories of how dangerous they could be when crossed. Now she saw it. Gone were the laughing faces, the roguish twinkle in their eyes. Oh, they still looked too handsome to be real, but there was a ruthless edge to them now, a menace in their stance, protectiveness towards her in the way several hovered around her.

  "Simon, get back,” Des called. “It's too dangerous."

  His head whipped around and he looked back at her. His gaze dropped to her bloodied wrists, still cuffed, and the fury in his eyes would have made a lesser person tremble. When he lifted his gaze, he looked directly at her.

  "No one,” he said, his voice a menacing rumble, “Threatens and hurts my lass and gets away with it. No one."

  There was a rumble of agreement from the other traders.

  Looking back towards the ground, Simon placed the manblaster to his shoulder and sighted down the barrel.

  Through the gap between ramp and hoist, she saw a fighter craft. Canute was getting into it, she easily recognized him from the dangerously low level the trade ship was flying.

  Reaching around suddenly, she yanked Kel's laser from the holster at his thigh. Swinging back around, she lifted the laser over Simon's head and aimed.

  Canute looked up, then gestured frantically.

  Simon fired, and the fighter craft exploded as the huge blast hit the fuel tank with deadly force. Canute died instantly, the inferno eating at his body.

  Des sprayed laser fire at Tyson and Zared as they shot up towards the trade ship, and had the satisfaction of watching them both drop to the ground and lie still. Within seconds bounty hunters had grabbed the bodies and were dragging them away.

  Dead or alive, they were worth a lot of dinnos.

  "The tavern's going to blow!” Aamun warned. “We're getting out of here now!"

  The trade ship soared away, and Simon stood up and turned to Des, wrapping his arm around her waist and using his body to force her back into the shelter of the cargo hold.

  A roar sounded, and the tavern exploded. She saw the fire lick high in the sky just before the trade ship turned and the sight was cut off, but she could now see four bounty hunter ships circling and landing, spilling out more hunters, all eager for the rich pickings to be had.

  And some because of their loyalty to another pack, to Creed. They'd heeded his call for help and come.

  The trade ship circled and landed next to a couple of bounty hunter ships and one of the peacekeeper pursuit crafts.

  The ramp lowered and Des could now see that Adin was talking into a communication receiver, directing the operation from where he stood.

  Striding down the ramp with Simon behind her, she crossed to Adin, who looked up at her with relief.

  "Des! Thank the stars!"

  "Thank the traders, more like.” She looked towards the settlement, the smoke and flames that filled the air, the sound of laser fire and the crack of bull whips loud in the morning. The screams and shouts. “My men? Have you heard?"

  "Aiken is safe, his lady love hid him in a secret tunnel her father had beneath his house. I didn't ask questions. He's swearing a blue streak, but with that broken leg, there's not much he can do. I don't know about the others, I'm sorry.” He looked at her hands “You're cuffed?"

  She held them out to him. “You got keys?"

  With a wry grin, he unsnapped the cuffs and took them off, while she gingerly rubbed her bruised and scraped wrists.

  Big fingers wrapped around her own, and Simon lifted her wrists to inspect them. “These need attention. Come into the ship and I'll see to it."

  "I'm fine.” She looked at him. “You?"

  "A few scratches but nothing major."

  "The others?"

  "Aamun is seeing to Heddam's arm and a laser burn to Shamon's leg."

  "Damn! I knew you should have stayed away!"

  Lifting her hand, Simon pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. “Nothing in heaven or hell will keep me from your side when you're in danger, lass."

  Warmth swept through her, but aware of the turmoil going on around her, she could only smile slightly. “Later, trader."

  "'Tis a promise, lass."

  Des turned back to Adin, who was speaking tersely into the communication receiver. Looking back at the settlement, she saw men starting to gather in little pockets, men with their hands in the air. Others gathered around them.

  The bounty hunters were rounding up the surviving outlaws, and she wondered how many of the hunters had died as well. But nothing would have kept the packs away from such rich pickings.

  Helping her had been a favor to Creed, but the rich rewards would have been a huge bonus. That and the love of the hunt. This particular hunt would be remembered for a long time.

  "I have to go in and fin
d the others,” Des stated. “Give me a manblaster."

  "I don't think so, lass,” Simon growled.

  "They're my men, Simon. My responsibility. I know a couple have been wounded, I overheard it. They'd have come for me, just as you did.” She looked up at him. “You understand, Simon, I know you do."

  His nostrils flared as he looked from her to the burning settlement, where the odd sound of laser fire still seared the air.

  "And tough if you don't, because it's my job,” she added.

  Simon's gaze snapped back to her, and for a second she really thought he was simply going to grab her and drag her aboard the ship, there was such a primal glint in his eyes when he took that one ominous step toward her.

  Closing his eyes briefly, Simon took a deep breath, and when he looked at her again, the gleam was gone. No, not gone. Held in check. She could still see that possessive gleam deep within his pale eyes.

  "We're going with you."

  "No. You're civilians."

  Ignoring her, he hefted the manblaster he still carried and started forward.

  Swearing, Des grabbed both of Adin's lasers and shoved them into the empty holsters on her thighs, then fell into step beside Simon. The other six traders fell in around them.

  Instinctively she knew if trouble started, these giants were going to grab for her first. She growled a warning over her shoulder, but they simply met it with innocent looks, none of which fooled her.

  Bloody Daamen traders.

  Unused to being the least strongest in a group, and having her orders blatantly ignored if chosen, Des strode in their midst.

  Simon's hand brushed against her arm as they walked, and she glanced up at him. Her annoyance faded when she saw the warmth in his eyes, the love and caring, and she knew he did what he did because he loved her.

  It didn't make it easier, but she could understand. Now he'd rescued her from danger, he wasn't about to allow her to go back in alone.

  Damn it.

  They were met by a hulking bounty hunter at the edge of the settlement. Hulking to many, but still not as big as the Daamen traders that flanked Des so protectively.

  "Falyon,” Des greeted him.

  "Glad to see you made it in one piece, girl.” He grinned at her, which only made his scar-ridden features pull tighter.

  "Glad to see you all here. Thanks."

  "Ah, well, can't let Creed's baby girl have all the fun.” Reaching out, he tousled her hair. “And we've earned a fortune today."

  "Good pickings, huh?"

  "Des, most of these outlaws we'd not be able to find. They're usually skulking in the inner sanctum. Yeah, huge pickings. Very huge."

  "I'm looking for my men."

  "Your uncle has a couple in his medical clinic."

  "Moresby's place wasn't destroyed?"

  "Seems the outlaws knew they might need him, so they left him alone. He found a couple of your men and got them back to his clinic."

  "Thanks."

  The laser fire had stopped, and as Des and the traders moved through the destroyed streets, they saw that what outlaws weren't dead were on their knees, cuffed to each other and guarded by packs of bounty hunters.

  The siege, it appeared, was over.

  Several packs and some peacekeepers still went methodically through the buildings, searching for hiding and dead outlaws.

  Surviving settlers were amassed on the other side of the settlement which still stood. They huddled together, some gawking, some crying, depending on their losses or good fortune.

  Amongst the bodies dragged out was Yucel's. His body was dumped alongside that of the burned corpse of Canute and the dead bodies of Zared and Tyson. Further along, Des noted Ruan and Levi in a pile of bodies being readied to load aboard a bounty hunters ship for reward collection.

  Dead or alive, the outlaws were worth dinnos.

  Finally reaching Moresby's clinic, Des and the traders went inside.

  Seeing her, Moresby's relief was evident, and he did something he rarely did. Rushing over to her, he hugged her hard.

  "Damn it all to hell, girl! I thought you were a goner!"

  Awkwardly, she patted his back. “I'm not easy to kill."

  "I'll say!” Stepping back, he cleared his throat, his eyes wet. He looked at Simon. “I hear I have you and your crew to thank for saving her."

  "No need,” Simon replied uncomfortably. “The wench was just hanging around doing nothing anyway."

  Laughter came from the traders behind them, and Des mentally rolled her eyes.

  "You have my gratitude.” Moresby gestured around him. “If any of you need treatment, I'm not like some of the butchers you find out here."

  "I can vouch for that,” Des said.

  "Then mayhap, if Aamun thinks Shamon and Heddam's injuries are too bad, you could come and check them,” Simon replied. “I'll let you know."

  Moresby's gaze dropped down to Des's wrists, and then the dried blood on her thigh. “You've been injured"

  "It's nothing. My men?"

  "Damn it, Desdemona!"

  "My men?"

  "You should let him look at you,” Simon said.

  She glared at him. “Moresby, Simon and the others here have a few scratches, too. See to them while I check my men."

  Having neatly turned the tables, she slipped through into the ward room, leaving Simon protesting and Moresby adamant.

  Orde and Marcel were lying in the beds, faces pale. Orde had a bandage wrapped around the top of his head, and his arm was in a sling. Marcel's cheek was swollen from a burn, and one eye was shut and bruised. His leg was in plaster.

  They both looked at her and grinned in delight, exclaiming at the same time, “Boss!

  "Bloody hell,” she returned. “Look at you two. As soon as my back is turned, you come crawling to Moresby for sympathy and get put to bed."

  "I was a little tired,” Orde protested.

  "And you seemed to have the situation under control all by yourself,” Marcel added. “We didn't want to show you up or get in the way."

  "Heaven forbid.” Coming to stand at the foot of the beds, situating herself between the two, she glanced from one to the other. “How bad?"

  "You want a report?"

  "On yourselves, hell yes."

  Marcel smiled a little. “Got hit by burning debris, then punched around a little by some outlaws out for a bit of exercise. I fought back, slipped on a pipe, fell through a roof and broke my leg."

  "You were on a roof?"

  "I went up there for some scenery. It's great scenery up there, Boss. Oh wait, you know that, because I spotted you going through a window in a tavern. I saw you break his window, Boss, don't deny that vandalism."

  "I deny everything. You're okay apart from that? No internal injuries?"

  "Nothing. Moresby says I'll be fit for duty again in no time as soon as the leg is healed."

  Des looked at Orde.

  He shrugged. “An outlaw tried to split my skull open, but you know me, hardheaded. A bit of blood, some stitches, and Moresby said I'm fine. No concussion that he can tell. Broken collarbone. But I'm fine otherwise."

  "Good. Very good.” She hesitated. “The others?"

  "Apparently Aiken's lady love kept him safe, much to his annoyance."

  "I heard.” She grinned fleetingly. “A blow to his manly pride."

  The men grinned.

  "We lost Chas,” Des stated. “Anyone heard from Emory and Huxley?"

  "They dragged us here. Last I saw, they were heading out into the settlement with a bounty hunter pack."

  Not long after, Des left the clinic with the traders. Simon was growling about being patched up like a baby, and she glimpsed the self adhesive patches under his vest and on his upper arm. He'd left his cloak back at the clinic to be collected later, as had the other traders.

  Now she saw that most of them sported a bandage or self adhesive patch of some kind.

  They all looked hard at her, daring her to say something, but se
eing as how Moresby had cornered her while she was seeing Orde and Marcel, and had dressed her wrists and the cut on her thigh, she simply eyed the traders back with one brow coolly raised.

  Now it remained for her to find her remaining two men.

  She heard them before she saw them. Following their voices, she found them standing at the bottom of the huge drilling machinery. It had collapsed to the ground, the drill bent. Smoke trialed up from the engine inside, coming out of the open hatch, but no one seemed concerned.

  As she neared the machine, several men came out of the hatch, their faces grimy and sweaty. Bounty hunters came up behind them, while several waited on the ground. More prisoners.

  "Morning, boys,” she said pleasantly, coming to a standstill behind Emory and Huxley, who were watching the scene with amusement.

  They turned and looked at her, relief on their faces. “Boss!"

  "You're all right?” Emory's gaze went to the giants behind her. “Silly question."

  Relieved to find her men unharmed, apart from a rough bandage tied around Emory's arm and dried blood on Huxley's temple from a cut, Des pointed at the drill machinery. “Did you break it?"

  "Would we do that?” Huxley grinned.

  "Actually, we sort of did,” Emory confessed.

  "Don't tell her that,” Huxley objected. “She'll start yelling."

  "I'll yell if you don't,” Des warned him.

  "Well, I sort of took aim at a fighter with a manblaster. It was coming down the street, and you know we don't allow that kind of hooning in our settlement. So I gave him a warning, but the manblaster somehow went wild and shot the shit out of him. And he crashed into the legs holding that monster up, and it collapsed and...” Emory shook his head in mock sadness. “I hate to tell you this, but the outlaw is as flat as a pancake under that, Boss."

  "I just can't leave you blokes alone, can I?” She grinned.

  "Even better, now comes the entertainment,” Huxley informed her.

  "What's that?"

  "Two packs are claiming the crew of the drilling machinery. We're wondering how they're going to divvy them up."

  Des shrugged. “They'll split them down the middle."

  "But it's an odd number.” Emory laughed.

  Shaking her head, Des gave them both a friendly punch in the shoulder, which made them stagger, and left them to it.