* * * *
Ran sat, staring hard at the screen, his mouth tight. It wasn’t like he hadn’t dealt with crisis situations before, but the widespread nature of the attacks was a true concern, not just for Minoa but in the sense that the governments of all the planets involved needed to deal with the problem the same way. A united front to terrorist attacks was always best, in his opinion. If other planets managed to successfully negotiate and save lives and some refused and citizens were killed, fingers were going to be pointed.
That’s why he wanted to talk to Ian Helm before he met with the Universal Council over this crisis.
“No doubt Mega 3 was a target also, but that went awry.”
Ran glanced up and saw that Ian was also staring at the illuminated map, one sinewy hand braced on the desk. “But now they have four others that were successful.”
“Big planets. All major powers. The targets valuable but not military…I’m still trying to decide how to handle it. What do you think?”
“They don’t want a war.” There was a thoughtful pause. “Yet. No one does something this complicated for nothing. If they destroy these buildings, it’s a powerful statement.”
There was that word again. Power.
“They are asking for money.”
“To finance a revolution, Ran.”
“Maybe.”
“Marc has interviewed one of them. He should be able to get more information.”
“His new wife is a hostage. He isn’t exactly available right now.”
Ian lifted a brow. “What advice are you going to give the Universal Council until then?”
Ran shook his head and stood. “I’m not sure yet, but our emergency meeting is in five minutes. Come with me.”
Chapter Fifteen
All those adventures as children had taught Damon that Jayla might possess a delicate beauty, but underneath she was an intelligent, resourceful female.
However, that was not all that reassuring when he knew she was trapped inside a besieged building with a group of fanatics who thought their cause could be best served by violence. A threat to execute the daughter of the ruler of Anasta was an effective bargaining tool.
It appeared there were only ten of them. Infrared detectors showed the majority of the life-forms in one room in the far southwest corner of the building, most of them unmoving, some of them glowing softer than others, which could mean cooling body temperatures indicating there had already been casualties.
The ten were scattered in various parts of the perimeter of the building, no doubt armed and ready for a possible attack.
“I can let you in by remotely deactivating the locks,” Kale said tersely, “but I can’t promise they won’t kill you the minute the door opens and you step through. The communication sent to them was met with refusal. No negotiation. They want payment.”
“They must have known we would want to try and bargain,” Marc said, his face set. They stood on the street outside the building, with transport vehicles everywhere but Kale keeping his men back and out of sight. “They have to be able to get off the planet once this is done.”
It was a good point. Holding the legacy of a planet’s history hostage was one thing, but the captor’s had to have a plan for fleeing once the money was transferred to the specified accounts.
Damon was still dead-set against giving into their demands. To him on an intellectual basis, what was happening was a strike against all proposed reform and a general detriment to the cause to evoke new, more modern laws. When force was used instead of logic and education, it impeded back the timetable of progress.
Above all though, there was Jayla.
If he thought about it too much, he would lose all sense of perspective, and he needed to be calm. The idea of her in danger paralyzed him and he had to be ready and clear-headed.
Damon stared at the building’s square façade, the glass walls going up several stories, all power currently cut so it was utterly dark inside. Marc swore Jay was alive…
“She is,” Marc said, his voice grim. “But she doesn’t know where she is in the building. It’s a big facility and it’s dark in there. We need to give them back the lights.”
“I’m going to have to restore power to open the doors anyway.” Kale was scanning a handheld device as spoke, his usual immaculate uniform rumpled from the long night. “As for how they plan on getting out of there, I just got a communication saying there is an unlicensed transport that is blocking all signals in close hover. The aircraft could be on the ground in minutes.”
“What makes them think we won’t take it out the moment the terrorists are on board?” Damon asked, running his fingers restlessly through his hair. He wanted—no needed—to do something now. He’d studied enough military tactics to know long delays in response to threats ended disastrously often enough. Then he answered his own question, “Because they plan on taking several hostages with them. Damn it.”
“That would be my guess,” Kale agreed. He nodded toward the front entrance. “The Universal Council is in session right now and they are going to issue a decree about how all the involved planets should handle this. I might receive orders to not let you go in there at any moment, depending on their decision. So I suggest if you are intent on trying this angle, go now. I’ll activate the power as soon as you are close. When lights come back on, the doors should unlock. There are two of them in the main lobby and if they were my men, I would have given orders to kill anyone coming through that entrance.”
“That’s reassuring,” Damon muttered. He said to Marc, “You’d better be one hell of a diplomat, Kartel.” Then to Kale he said succinctly, “Let them know we’re coming in.”
* * * *
None of the scans were working, the transport elevators from floor to floor were inoperable, and it was so dark that Jayla stumbled over something after yet another futile attempt to try and find a way to the main floor. She went down hard, her palm slamming into the floor as she tried to break her fall, and the pain jolted upward from wrist to shoulder. It was impossible to not cry out, though immediately she stifled the small sound of discomfort.
Too late. Someone had heard it.
He came out of a doorway, obviously holding a glow lamp, the thin pencil of light vivid in the darkness, the result making him just a shadowy figure, the light sweeping the hallway.
Was that a stairwell? she wondered in a panic, not wanting to be locked away again, but unarmed and now injured, it wasn’t like she was a formidable opponent. She scooted back as unobtrusively as possible against the wall, wondering if there was anywhere to hide. The only option was one of the entrances to the nonfunctioning floor-to-floor station doors a few feet away, and when the man—or it might be a female, she couldn’t tell—turned around to sweep the light the other direction, she got to her feet and made a short dash and pressed there against the doors, her heart pounding.
It was better, to the extent she felt somewhat hidden, but also worse, because she couldn’t see the person with the light any longer, just the glow as it slid along the walls and floor, searching….searching…
The beam caught what she’d fallen over. It was a small sign that was obviously temporary, the writing on it impossible to read as the illumination skittered over it, but it was there.
Peeking around the corner, Jayla saw the figure was startlingly close, only a few feet away.
Terrorist, she reminded herself, her wrist hurting, her head still aching from the drug. He’s willing to kill innocent people. More than anything, she wanted that light in his hand—but it had to be a male from his height…
We’re going in, Jay. We’re here.
Marc’s voice, coming through in her mind…
She sprang forward, dipping down to grab up the small sign by the metal base and swinging it, catching her stalker by surprise, but unfortunately not getting him in the head as she wanted, but just the shoulder. He grunted and staggered back and she tried again, and this time, since he was off balance
as he slammed against the wall, the impetus of his weight was more effective than her impromptu weapon.
The illumination device rolled away but the male—he wore the same dark clothing as Lucien Lettrick had—didn’t move, slumped in a sitting position as Jayla cautiously moved to retrieve it.
At that moment, all the lights came on.
* * * *
He wasn’t as powerful as his father but at the moment every nerve ending, every synapses in his brain was firing as adrenalin flowed through his bloodstream and Marc stepped into the foyer, tersely instructing Damon to stay behind him.
Not that giving Le Clerc orders usually worked, and this time was no different. Their strides matched as they walked inside the taken building, both of them immediately noticing a pungent odor in the air.
“Borus.” Damon’s voice was curt. “A drug used to stun troops banned about two decades ago. It’s unreliable and therefore not used any longer. Too many can’t tolerate it. Don’t worry, it fades fast and is odorless. What we smell is the artificial scent introduced to identify it. Where is our greeting committee? I thought there were two of them.”
The entrance was vast, stretching up two full stories, with lots of glass and hanging lights and a magnificent polished floor of some dark blue stone.
The words drifted into his mind. Marc, Marc…are you there? I have a weapon but I accidentally set off an alarm of some kind.
Jayla. She was right too, for there was a blinking red light above the main portal leading up to the viewer floors and there was only one of the terrorists standing there waiting for them, his figure tense, a weapon in his hand.
We’re inside but in the lobby. Are you on the main floor?
I…I don’t know. One of them is unconscious and I just stunned another one…
For the first time since this all started, he smiled. He turned to Damon. “Thanks to Jay, there’s only eight of them now.”
“Better odds,” Damon agreed, his smile taut. “Where is she?”
“That isn’t how this works. If she doesn’t know, I don’t know either.”
“Inconvenient,” he muttered, but inwardly he was elated at the idea Jayla was armed. She’d had a pampered upbringing in some ways, but her mother had insisted she take a training course in the weapons used by their military. He attended it with her and had been surprised at how quickly she’d caught on, but then again, she’d never liked for him to be more proficient at something than she was. He had no idea what kind of weapons this group was using, but if she’d managed to take out two of them, she must have been able to figure it out.
“Lucien?” Marc called out, his voice echoing in the space.
“Leave now. We have no desire to talk.” The lone male shook his head, his weapon half-extended. “Pay or we will destroy the building and the prisoners. That is all we have to say.”
Had there not been an explosion at that moment, maybe Marc would have gotten to test his diplomatic skills, but the building shook, windows shattered, and Damon found himself suddenly face down on the floor.
What the hell?
Nearly deafened, he sat up, brushing glass off his clothes, heedless of the small cuts to his hands. Similarly Marc was nearby on the floor, but still conscious, his eyelashes fluttering and then his eyes opening. “Jay.”
Above them the building groaned, the reinforcing beams shifting. It sounded like it might all come down…
“Now,” Damon responded hoarsely, leaning down to extend a hand and pull him to his feet. “Let’s find out where she is now.”
* * * *
Had that been a mistake?
Jayla wasn’t sure, but truth be told, she hadn’t really had a lot of choice.
The noise had been more than she expected, but then again, she had never anticipated setting off an explosive device either.
The male who had identified himself as Lucien now lay in a loose sprawl at her feet, his blond hair in disarray, one arm out flung. She’d been at the top of the stairwell to the main floor when he’d appeared out of nowhere, and truthfully she’d been so startled and edgy, when he’d smiled at her with the self-satisfied smirk and his hand had lifted, she had fired.
One second later, to her horror, she’d heard the horrendous sound of a bomb exploding.
How could I possibly know he carried a detonator?
You couldn’t.
Marc. Knees weak, she almost sank to the floor. I think I killed Lucien…sorry.
Stay put. I mean it, Jay. Kale is coming in now and we’re on our way. Don’t move, my reckless princess…promise me. Promise us.
There was shouting nearby and she lifted her head, the drift of acrid smoke already filling the air, and she realized that someone was pounding on a door nearby. She found the courage to kneel by Lucien’s prostrate body and begin with shaking hands to search his body, her injured wrist making it a painful process. They had to scan into the rooms somehow…surely he had a device with the codes…
A piece of ceiling crashed down next to her, exploding on the polished floor, the sound making her jump.
Please…Find us quickly.
* * * *
“You’ve finally stopped trembling, my love.”
Ellesandra sat back with a long breath expelled from her lungs. It was true. From the moment she’d heard her only child was trapped in the Royal Museum with a terrorist group an icy calm had seized her, but when the notice of the explosion had come, she’d been unable to stop shaking. “At least I am not accepting well-intentioned sympathy, but instead congratulations on the bravery of my daughter. Seven casualties is still a grave number, but considering how many have been rescued and that we have six of The Power imprisoned, not to mention that Damon and Marc Kartel are still alive, I count this ordeal resolved in as satisfactory a manner as was possible under the circumstances.”
Raphael’s smile was faint and he poured her a glass of pale golden wine. He admitted, “I was not so steady myself. I could not imagine anything but a grim end to the situation. Anasta acquitted itself well in general.”
That was true. The Universal Council had passed down the resolution that none of the affected planets deal with their attackers, and even Minoa had not managed such a violence-free rescue of both the building and the hostages. True, Lucien Lettrick had not survived the eventual collapse of the building, but that death was of his own making.
“I agree.” She took the glass now that she could hold it steadily and took a grateful sip.
“Kale deserves due credit for the ultimate success of the endeavor. Perhaps he can take my place on the Royal Council when Jayla succeeds you. As queen and consort, she and Kartel will have enough to deal with as the new laws begin to pass and fall into place. Kale has a cool head.”
Gazing at her lover, Ellesandra murmured, “Are we really going to leave Anasta?”
“Could you remain here, my love, and not rule?”
He had a point, but then again, Raphael had always known her better than anyone else. After a moment, she shook her head. “I doubt it. But this has all taught me that though they are just beginning, Jayla and Marc can conduct themselves in the best interest of the people. That young male was willing to die for her and she was willing to die for Anasta.”
“As was Damon.”
“Of course he was. Grandiose gestures are his specialty.” Ellesandra couldn’t help an indulgent smile and a raised eyebrow. “It’s odd how he thinks you are his greatest critic when in truth you are his most staunch supporter.”
“It’s odd how he has so managed to irritate me and yet make me a proud father at the same time his entire life.”
She had to laugh at his sardonic tone. Then she sobered, “Jayla loves him. I think she has also come to have deep feelings for Marc…I am so happy for her. The three of them obviously make a formidable force.”
“True.” He relaxed back in his chair, his eyes glimmering. “So then, where shall we go? Someplace warm, comfortable, far from all the strife of Federation polit
ics…someplace the rest of the galaxy ignores…”
“What about Earth?”
“Earth?” He looked perplexed. “It’s so…insignificant.”
“I hear it has warm climes and crystal clear seas in some places. It’s peaceful, and far away.”
“The weather is not controlled there,” he objected. “They’ve never learned how.”
“Please don’t tell me you wish to abandon all sense of adventure,” Ellesandra said serenely. “I know I don’t.”
Epilogue
Anasta, One year later
Warm ripples of sensation moved through her and Jayla stretched under the brush of Marc’s fingers, her back arching. The pleasure was sleek, insidious, consuming, and she all but forgot their argument.
Until Damon reminded her by sliding his hand up her thigh, the caress light but persuasive. “We’ll take care of you, Jay.”
Was it not for the warmth of his mouth on her sex a moment later and the tantalizing tease of his tongue on her clitoris, she would have made a sharp retort, but the luxurious rapture of what he was doing to her body temporarily robbed her of speech.
Damn him for being able to distract her so easily.
Her orgasm was tumultuous and satisfying.
Marc wasted no time, his entry into her body measured, his mouth gentle on hers as he sheathed himself completely. Damon watched them through heavy-lidded eyes, his erection prominent, and when she lay gasping and limp, it was his turn to coax her into erotic bliss once again, his strong body braced over hers, suggestive words whispered wickedly in her ear, until they both climaxed in trembling joy and then lay in the shipwreck of the aftermath.
Once she could catch a breath, she said decisively, “I’m still going. As brilliant as you both think you are, the diversion didn’t work.”
Marc, propped on one elbow next to them, touched her cheek. “Just stay here until the child is born. That’s all we ask.”
I should never have even told you.
Yes, you should have, he countered in silent communication. We’re both delighted. My child or his, it doesn’t matter. We both love you…
Wolfe, Annabel - Secrets of a Reckless Princess [The Starlight Chronicles 4] (Siren Publishing PolyAmour) Page 12