by Nina Croft
“Damn.” He might have been able to heal the broken bones with his wand. He was powerless without it. “How long have I been out?”
“You’ve been unconscious twenty-eight hours.”
Jesus, anything could have happened in that time. He tried to push himself up, but pain shot from his hand up his arm and it collapsed under him.
“Just relax,” Dylan snapped. “You’re no good to anybody like this.” He stood up, hands in his pockets. “Rico will be here soon.”
“Great,” he muttered. As long as the vampire didn’t stand in Milo’s way.
“I thought you’d be pleased.”
“How long?”
“He’ll be arriving in orbit any moment. I’m going to meet him, bring him back here. You rest. Then we’ll work out a plan. And we’ll get her back.” He picked up a glass from the table beside the bed. “Here, drink this.”
“What is it?”
“Painkillers.”
That sounded like a really good idea right now.
He closed his eyes as Dylan left the room. Maybe she didn’t want to be with him. After all, right from the start, she’d told him that she planned to go back. To do her duty. Maybe he should just leave her there.
But part of him knew he was being unfair. She’d changed beyond belief, even in a few days. She had grown. Started to question everything about her world. She would no longer walk in blindly and do her “duty.”
She’d given herself up to save him. And he hadn’t even had the guts to tell her he cared. And now, he had a really bad feeling that he wasn’t going to get the chance. And what would he say anyway?
He was suddenly filled with a sense of urgency. He had to go get her. He tried to get up, pushing through the pain and rising on his elbows. But the strength went out of him and he collapsed back on the bed. His brain was filling with mist, clouding, going dark.
When he opened his eyes again, he had no idea how much time had passed. Except he felt better, so probably a considerable amount.
He glanced at the empty glass on the table, then rolled his head to the side and found Dylan standing over him. A slow growl trickled from Milo’s mouth. “You fucking drugged me.”
“Admit it,” Dylan said. “If I hadn’t drugged you, you would have tried to go after her, and now you would be dead.”
He couldn’t deny it—that had been his plan. So he kept quiet.
“And then you know what,” Dylan said, “I would be dead. And not only that, but the rest of my pack as well. Because that’s what your Uncle Rico told me when we headed off on this little adventure together. Bring you back alive, or we all pay the price.”
Milo’s gaze flicked from Dylan to the man behind him. Rico shrugged. “What can I say? I promised your mother.” Rico pulled something from his boot and handed it to Milo. “Here. You look like shit. Maybe this will help.”
Milo took the wand and felt the strength and power flow through him. He closed his eyes and channeled that power through his blood, along his nerves, felt the bones knit together and the pain recede.
He opened his eyes, everything looked clearer.
Pushing himself up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat for a moment taking stock. “I’m hungry.”
“I brought food from the shuttle,” Dylan said, handing him a bag.
He opened it, pulled out a bread roll, and bit into it. His brain was sharper now, and he searched his mind for the best way forward.
He was guessing that if Destiny was back in the cells beneath Camelot, then this time she would be well guarded. There were only three of them. Kinross had an army. But he figured the three of them were an even match for an army if they played it right. He just wasn’t sure the others would agree.
How far could he rely on Rico for help?
The vampire had come for him. He could have just left them to their fate. But while Rico was ruthless, he rewarded loyalty. And deep down he had always known that Rico cared. Yes, he had taken him on from a sense of responsibility. He had totally failed his wife, hadn’t even been there when the Inquisition had come for her. She had already been dead by the time he had returned. Reduced to nothing but ashes. So he’d taken Milo, his wife’s sister’s child, from a sense of guilt.
But he’d come to care. Even when he’d handed Milo over to his father, it had been because he could see no other way forward. Milo would have destroyed himself and probably everyone around him. Milo hadn’t seen it like that at the time, but now with a few centuries’ hindsight he could understand that it had been the only route to take. Without those years training with his father, he likely wouldn’t have survived.
Rico cared for him. Milo needed to play on that. Because the vampire felt nothing for Destiny.
Somehow Milo had to make him believe that saving Destiny was the only option. He could go down the “I care for her” route. Or he could go on the offensive. He’d try the latter first.
“This is all your fucking fault,” he said, glaring at Rico.
Rico raised a brow. “And how do you work that out?”
“You suggested we nuke the whole planet.”
“So.” He gave a casual shrug. “It’s a perfectly valid solution to the problem.”
“Only if you’re an asshole. Destiny grew up believing it was her destiny to save the human race. She gave herself up because you suggested we blow up a big portion of what’s left. So I would guess she doesn’t agree with the valid-solution thing.”
“How does giving herself up have any effect on that?”
“She thinks if she’s here, then maybe I won’t let you nuke the planet.”
Rico folded his arms across his chest. “Let’s pretend for the moment that you could actually stop me if I wanted to—is she right?”
“Hell, yes. I wouldn’t do it anyway. Not even to kill Kinross. But I guess she doesn’t know me that well.”
Rico sighed. Loudly. He sat down on the chair by the bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and scowled. “So what do we do next?”
Milo considered the options. There weren’t many. The one thing he did have on his side was that Dr. Yang believed her family was alive and that Kinross could give them back to her. Milo was about to tell her that wouldn’t happen. That her family was dead, and that Kinross was responsible. At that point, any loyalty she felt to Kinross would evaporate.
She could confirm where Destiny was and maybe even get them in.
“I get her out. We disarm the nukes. We kill Kinross and anyone else who gets in our way. And we get the hell off this shit planet.”
Rico gave a lazy smile, revealing the tip of one sharp, white fang. “Sounds like a plan.”
…
Elvira tried to keep her mind totally blank as she cleared up her laboratory on the Trakis Four. Soon she would be free to leave, but she was finding it harder and harder to keep the doubts from crowding her thoughts.
Destiny’s face kept flashing before her mind.
Her expression as they’d left her in the cell.
She couldn’t believe the change that had taken place in only a few days. Despite the fact that she’d always known Destiny’s IQ was off the charts, she always came across as innocent, naive, and that had made it far easier to treat her as something…less. Now that was impossible.
The fact was she was more. More intelligent, stronger, faster. Superior in just about every way.
She cleared her mind and forced herself to concentrate on her daughters, making their faces superimpose on the image of Destiny. Just keep the endgame in mind.
Once she had her daughters back, then she would request a transfer to one of the other planets. She would move far away from here so she would never have to see Kinross again. And she would forget.
All the same, her eyes pricked, and she blinked as she worked automatically. At least s
he wasn’t doing the operation—it wasn’t her specialty. She wasn’t sure she could have done it.
Just as she was finishing up, her comm unit buzzed. She glanced down but the caller ID was blank. She considered ignoring it; she couldn’t think of anyone she wanted to talk to. But in the end, she swiped a finger over the screen to accept the call.
“Dr. Yang?” At first, she didn’t recognize the voice. Then she realized it was Milo. What could he want? She nearly ended the call, but he preempted her.
“I have important information for you about your family.”
She went still. Was he going to threaten her daughters? Would he harm them if she didn’t help him? What did he want?
But perhaps Milo could get her family to safety. Out of range of Kinross’s men. She realized that the hope had been hovering in the back of her mind. That maybe she could contact him, tell him she would—what? Help him in some way if he would promise the safety of her family?
The problem was she didn’t think she could get Destiny out. She was too well guarded now. So if that was what he wanted, then she couldn’t help him. And then what?
God, how did things get so complicated?
“What information?” There was a wobble in her voice that she couldn’t eliminate. “Tell me you won’t harm them. I only did what I did to keep them safe. Luther said he would—” She broke off, unable to put it into words.
“Your daughters are dead.”
For a moment the words didn’t make any sense. She scrambled to get her brain to work. “You killed my family?” They couldn’t be dead. She wouldn’t believe it. It was a mistake. Why would they? It made no sense.
“I didn’t kill them. They never made it onto the Trakis Two.”
Her legs were shaking, and she sank down onto the chair behind her. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s quite simple. Luther Kinross stole your children’s cryotubes, along with those of most crew member families, and filled them with his own men.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Where do you think Luther Kinross got his army from? All the crew families on the Trakis Two have been replaced, and I imagine it’s the same on the other ships.”
Her mind was refusing to accept the information. “My daughters…”
“Never left Earth. I’m sorry.”
A scream was rising inside her. She couldn’t focus; black spots danced in front of her eyes. Her head felt light, and she swayed on the chair and then crashed to the floor.
When Elvira came to, she had no clue how long she had been out. It didn’t matter. The comm unit was silent.
Kinross had lied to her all this time. She had no doubt he was capable of it. Had she believed she was so important to him that she was exempt from his ruthlessness?
Yes.
How could he get away with it? The only way was if the old crews were never woken from cryo. That would be no loss as far as Kinross was concerned. Most of the crew members were old, too old to be of any use.
And what did he plan to do to her once she had completed what she had been brought along to do?
She doubted she would survive much longer.
What had happened to her daughters? Had they really been left back on Earth? But she knew that Kinross couldn’t have risked leaving anyone alive. The ships had still been in contact with Earth for a number of years. If Luther had left them alive, then there was a good chance his actions would have been uncovered and the information sent to the fleet.
So he’d murdered her daughters. They’d been dead for five hundred years. Had they suffered?
Was there any chance that Milo had lied? Except she couldn’t think why. If her family had been alive, he could have used them to force her hand. If they were dead, how did he benefit by telling her? Perhaps he just meant to turn her against Luther.
She forced herself to breathe slowly, to push down the panic.
First, she needed proof.
She heaved herself up from the floor. Her hands were shaking. Swallowing, she steadied herself and then crossed to the computer terminal. She lowered her head to the retinal scan and the screen flared to life. She worked quickly, accessing the ship’s backup files. She flicked through the cryotube records, filtered them for crew family, then found what she needed.
The family of the second-in-command of the Trakis Three, fourth rotation, consisted of his wife and two sons aged five and six. She took a note of the numbers and then hurried out.
She tried to work out how many men Luther had. She figured around fifty. That would mean the vast majority were still in cryo. Each ship must carry around nine hundred crew family. She headed to the cryotube chamber.
While she had no religious beliefs, as she walked the rows of tubes, glancing at the faces, she said a silent prayer. She wanted so badly to find the little boys sleeping peacefully. That would at least give her some hope that her daughters might still be alive. That Milo had been lying for whatever reasons.
She counted off the numbers, her feet slowing as she got close. She had to force herself to look down at the tube that should have contained five-year-old Benjamin Peters. Something broke inside her as she stared at the figure inside the cryotube. It was no five-year-old boy but a fully grown male. Perhaps the numbers were wrong. Perhaps the boy was in a different tube. But she knew she was fooling herself, and a sob caught in her throat.
She leaned against the cryotube, as everything she had worked toward crumbled and disintegrated, leaving her broken and empty.
They were dead. All dead. And had been for centuries.
As she accepted it, a rage started to build inside her. She’d done everything he asked, and he’d killed her babies.
She would make him pay. For a second, she considered contacting Milo. She presumed that he wanted to get Destiny out, and she could help with that. But she couldn’t be sure that Luther wouldn’t get her back. He had the resources. Hundreds of loyal men at his disposal. At the thought, a new wave of rage washed through her, filling the emptiness.
He would die for this. A slow death, and every minute of it he would know exactly why.
She headed back to her lab, searched for something she could use as a weapon. She found a knife, with a long blade and slid it down her boot where it wouldn’t be seen.
Then she headed off the ship. A boat was leaving the dock as she approached and she got a lift, staring straight ahead as the small vessel crossed the water. There were guards on the door, but they let her through without a word. They knew her well. Another guard stood at the doorway to the underground passages, he nodded and held the door open for her.
Once through she paused a moment, slowing her breathing.
Then she headed to Destiny’s cell.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“The heart breaks when it has swelled too much in the warm breath of hope, then finds itself enclosed in cold reality.”
—Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo
Destiny sat on the small cot bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, chin resting on her hands. She’d just finished reading The Count of Monte Cristo again, searching for comfort in the familiar words, and was contemplating how long it would take her to tunnel her way out of her cell. Too long, at a guess. Could she pretend to be dead and they would take out her body and…?
Probably with her luck she’d end up buried alive. Or cremated.
She just wished she knew what was happening. And whether Milo was okay. He hadn’t looked okay.
She was filled with a sense of longing, just to see him. Okay, to touch him as well. Would she ever see him again? They still had to disarm the nuclear warheads. Maybe right now he was close by.
That was unless Rico had persuaded him to blow up the whole planet. But she didn’t think Milo would do that. He wasn’t a bad…person. She wouldn’t fall in love with a bad person.
She had far too much taste. There, she’d admitted it to herself. She loved him. She loved Milo.
And it hurt. So bad.
The lock clicked, and she jumped to her feet.
At last something was happening. The door opened and Dr. Yang stood there. She stared at Destiny for what seemed like a long time, and Destiny could feel a frown forming between her eyes. “What is it?”
Dr. Yang ignored the question as she stepped into the cell. She turned abruptly. “You can go,” she snapped at the guard who had followed her inside. Her voice sounded strange. Different, sort of jagged as though she’d swallowed something sharp.
“I’m not supposed to leave the prisoner alone with anyone, ma’am.”
They were calling her a prisoner now—Destiny couldn’t even give herself the illusion that this was for her own safety anymore.
“I hardly think that refers to me,” Dr. Yang said. “I’m her doctor. I’m here to do an examination.” She shrugged. “Check with your boss but give us some privacy while you do it.”
He looked a little uncertain. Dr. Yang glared, and he gave a nod. “I’ll be just outside the door. Call if you need me.”
Did they think she was going to attack Dr. Yang? Though, she had threatened them with a grenade. Maybe they thought she was dangerous. She quite liked the idea.
Something was definitely wrong. Dr. Yang had never been a relaxed person, but right now, she looked as though she might shatter at any moment. Every muscle locked tight. Her face completely devoid of expression.
Destiny took a step forward and reached out, then let her hand drop to her side. Dr. Yang would not appreciate the gesture. “What’s happened?” she asked.
Clearly something had.
Her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed, and Destiny realized that she’d been wrong. There was a whole load of emotion there. Dr. Yang was angry. It burned in her eyes.
She swallowed, suddenly nervous, though she didn’t know why.
Dr. Yang bent down and pulled something from her boot. The silver of a blade glinted in her hand.
“I have to do this,” Dr. Yang said. “You understand that, don’t you?”