by J. J. Green
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The mercs waited at the docking port. Though they weren’t suited up, they’d found time during the short chase and retrieval of the Duchess to put on some clothes. A few were barefoot. Footwear hardly mattered in zero g. Perhaps they expected to die soon and never enter the artificial gravity of the Bathsheba.
Within the mercs’ ship, Parthenia and Jace were guarding Darius and Nahla, and Ferne and Oriana were desperately trying to make elixir, but their attempts while the Duchess was being towed to the colony ship had all been failures. Sustaining a fire in zero g seemed impossible.
What does it matter? Carina thought. Even if the twins had managed to brew huge quantities of the stuff, the mages would only be able to forestall the inevitable. She couldn’t see a way to defeat the hordes of Regians that awaited them, especially without armor to protect them from the creatures’ deadly acid.
She could only hope that an opportunity to escape would open up.
Was Atoi right? Was she sacrificing the Black Dogs to a horrific fate in order to save the lives of her family?
The fact that her goal of returning to Earth had resulted in exposing her brothers and sisters to deathly danger many times weighed heavily enough on her mind as it was.
And then there was her execution of Sable Dirksen. If she hadn’t killed the clan leader, the mercs might not even be there, Cadwallader might be alive…
She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed the thought away.
Thunk!
A jolt ended the forward progress of the Duchess. Most of the mercs were gripping handholds that lined the Duchess’s walls, but a few glided forward and hit the docking port hatch in a jumble.
Jeers and insults erupted from the gathered soldiers as the unprepared men and women disentangled themselves to resume their positions, but Carina noticed an edge to the customary black-humored banter. The dark jokes about wanting to be appetizers for the Regians and going for chemical skin peels sounded hollow, even desperate.
Bryce was there, telling her with his eyes that he loved her. The young soldier who was Parthenia’s friend was there too. Had the two of them had a chance to even speak?
Atoi’s face was hard and determined. She was in fight mode, but Carina guessed her friend remained angry with her for refusing to agree to self-destruct the Duchess. What might her friend now suffer due to her decision?
She couldn’t bear to think about it.
Tense seconds ticked past.
She strained her ears for the sound of the docking port being forced open, but no noises issued from it.
What were the Regians doing? Why weren’t they trying to board the Duchess and recapture the failed escapees?
Atoi was cursing under her breath, and other mutterings arose among the rest of the mercs. Carina knew how they felt. The waiting was unbearable.
It was also deeply puzzling. What possible reason could the Regians have for the delay? Didn’t they intend to enter the mercs’ vessel at all? Did they plan on simply taking it along with the Bathsheba until they reached their planet?
A tiny flame of hope flared in her.
If the aliens were to leave them alone for a while—even a few hours—they could escape yet. The mages might figure out a way to make elixir, and she and Atoi would have time to think up a good plan.
Ideas began to race through her head. Perhaps they could rig up some kind of massive flamethrower. If they could take out hundreds of Regians at once, and if the mages could Split tens at a time, the mercs might be able to wipe up the rest.
“Hey, Atoi,” Carina called.
But as her friend turned her head, the screech of a forced metal mechanism sounded from the docking port hatch, setting her teeth on edge.
The mercs readied their weapons.
“What?” said Atoi.
“Never mind.”
The screech intensified and she winced at the painful noise.
“Ready…” Atoi warned.
Crack!
The hatch seal split, and the hatch swung inward. Beyond it lay the dimness of the Regian-infested Bathsheba. A puff of chilled atmosphere hit Carina’s face. Figures moved in the darkness, but they were not the figures she’d expected to see.
“Fire!” yelled Atoi.
Pulses blazed from the mercs’ rifles, turning twilight into day on the Regian side, revealing—not the aliens—but Mezban’s soldiers. And toward the rear of them stood Mezban herself and Lomang.
The Regians had freed them and sent them to deal with the Black Dogs! The creatures had pitted human against human, relying on one side to betray the other. And it had worked. Mezban and Lomang had agreed to recapture the mercs and mages, perhaps in return for their own freedom.
Had it been the smuggler and his spouse who had come after them in the Peregrine? It would explain why it had taken so long before the Duchess’s port had been forced open. They would have needed the time to dock their ship at the Bathsheba.
But the Regians’ ploy might work in the Black Dogs’ favor. The mercs were used to fighting other soldiers, and though their lack of armor was a big disadvantage, they might win.
Atoi was urging her soldiers forward, attempting to turn the defense into an offense. It was a desperate measure, but so was their situation. Also, they had a psychological edge. Mezban’s troops would remember keenly that the mercs had defeated them once before and they might fear they would do so again. A forward push from the Black Dogs could trigger them into turning tail.
Carina berated herself for not spacing the lot of them, especially Mezban and Lomang. She hadn’t spared the latter pair due to mercy, she’d simply been too busy arranging the mages and mercs’ escape, and had assumed the Regians would take care of them.
The fighting intensified further as Mezban’s soldiers fired volley after volley. The mercs were forced back and into the few available places to shelter.
Suddenly, something flew through the open port and landed with a metallic clunk.
“Grenade!” someone yelled.
A convulsion ran through the sheltering men and women.
A man ran forward, bent, and scooped up the device. Carina recognized him as Parthenia’s friend. He made ready to throw the grenade back through the port, but before he could, he collapsed. He fell heavily, unconscious before he hit the floor, landing with the grenade underneath him.
The mercs closest to the man had begun to drop where they stood, their eyes closing and their knees buckling. The effect passed through the soldiers like an invisible ripple. A second after the first man had fallen, it hit her: the device one of Mezban’s troops had thrown into the Duchess wasn’t a grenade, it was a canister of gas—knockout gas. Within minutes it would be circulated through the air filtration system, and all aboard the Duchess would be unconscious and could be safely taken prisoner.
The gas reached her, and blackness swooped down.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Parthenia woke up lying on her back on what felt like cold, hard tile. She opened her eyes and found herself looking at a ceiling that seemed familiar, yet it was not at all what she expected to see.
Groggily, she tried to figure out what had happened. The last thing she could remember was being aboard the Duchess, trying to keep Darius and Nahla occupied while the Regians towed the ship to the Bathsheba. Nahla had been telling a fanciful story about a kingdom of horses, the animals they’d ridden on Pirine. The animals could talk and they were debating about which of them should be their new king and queen. Darius had been watching her, entranced as always when she wove her tales.
She’d felt the ship had come to a halt, which meant they’d reached their destination, and she’d been thinking that if the Black Dogs failed to fight off the Regians—an almost impossible task—the aliens would soon come for her and her siblings.
Oriana and Ferne had been struggling to start a fire. If only they had more elixir! The twins had enclosed splinters of wood in a wire mesh to hold them together in the zero g,
and…
Where was she?
She shook the fog from her mind. As she sat up she recognized her surroundings immediately. She was in the Bathsheba’s refectory, where Lomang and Mezban had imprisoned the mercs after taking them out of stasis. And they were all back here again: around her lay, sat, and stood the men and women of the Black Dogs.
She started in fear. Where were her brothers and sisters? She swung around, and then exhaled in relief. All her siblings except Carina were lying behind her, still unconscious.
What had happened, and where was her sister? How had she and everyone else gotten from the mercs’ ship to the colony vessel? She couldn’t recall a thing since that final moment in the Duchess’s galley.
“Hey!”
Parthenia looked up and saw Carina standing over her. Her sister reached out a hand and pulled her to her feet.
They hugged, and Carina looked her in the eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay. I just don’t understand—”
“They gassed the ship. Knocked us all unconscious. Then they carried us here, I guess. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, just about,” Parthenia replied, though in truth she still felt befuddled.
“Good. Do you still have your translator and comm?”
She put a hand to her chest and touched her ear. “I do. I never took them off.”
“Great. I have mine, too. It’ll help a lot if we can understand what the Regians are saying.”
“I suppose it will. I…” She rubbed her forehead. “Sorry, I’m still groggy.”
On the floor next to her, Ferne and Oriana were beginning to stir, though Darius and Nahla remained out of it, perhaps because their smaller bodies took longer to process the gas.
Carina said, “I know it’s a lot to handle. Parthenia, you were a tremendous help to me before, when we set the bomb and escaped. If it weren’t for Lomang and Mezban, we might have made it. Now we’re gonna have to pull another stunt or two. Are you up to it? I need you.”
“Of course. Of course I’ll help.”
Carina squeezed her upper arm then she strode off, no doubt on her way to talk to someone about a plan she had.
Parthenia was gratified and comforted by her sister’s praise and faith in her. It seemed their relationship had turned a corner. The change in Carina’s attitude had been a long time coming, but now it had arrived it was very welcome.
She spotted Jace, who was talking to Bryce. She waved to get the mage’s attention, hoping he would come over to her. She wanted to talk to him but she didn’t want to leave the children alone. They would be confused and scared as they came around.
Jace noticed her, said something to Bryce, and began to head toward her when the refectory doors suddenly drew back. Armed soldiers poured in, barking orders, telling everyone to move back.
The mercs froze for a moment, hesitating. Then a group—Atoi among them—rushed the troops, trying to grab their weapons, but the soldiers quickly responded with stun rounds and cracked their rifle butts on the resisters’ skulls. The skirmish was soon over, and the remaining Black Dogs waited, tense and angry.
Meanwhile, the rest of Mezban’s troops formed a wedge, its point protruding into the room and the wide base blocking the exit. The soldiers at the outer edge of the formation scanned the prisoners until one pointed at something and spoke to his buddy. The two marched forward, joined by a third.
They were heading for Carina.
Mercs drew together in front of her, but the soldiers aimed their rifles at them. Carina pushed her defenders aside and walked from between them to meet the oncoming soldiers.
One of them took out a black bag as another went behind her and tied her wrists together.
Carina’s gaze sought Parthenia’s. Just before the bag was lowered over her head, she called out, “Look after the kids!”
“I will!” Parthenia shouted back, her heart in her mouth.
She watched, aghast, as the soldiers led Carina away, guiding her roughly by pushing her back. She stumbled, and a soldier dragged her to her feet, drawing rumbles of displeasure from the Black Dogs.
She disappeared into the wedge of soldiers, and a line of disturbance formed as she was led through them and out of the room.
“Parthenia, where are we?” Darius asked.
He’d finally woken up, and so had Nahla. Oriana and Ferne were now fully conscious, but they’d remained quiet, apparently immediately understanding the gravity of the situation.
“Shh,” Parthenia whispered to Darius. “Don’t move. Stay down.”
As she returned her attention to Mezban’s troops, another of them lifted an arm and pointed.
He was pointing at her!
She started and took a step back.
Again, three soldiers marched out from the wedge.
“NO!” a voice in the crowd yelled.
She saw Kamil running toward her, but a soldier fired at him. He fell, hitting his head on the edge of a table as he went down.
“Kamil!” Parthenia called out. She managed only a few steps in his direction before the soldiers had reached her. One grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. She screamed in pain.
“Don’t hurt my sister!” Darius yelled.
“Let me go!” Parthenia pleaded. She couldn’t be taken away like Carina. She had to stay with her brothers and sisters.
She struggled and fought, but the men were much stronger than she was. Her other arm was pulled inexorably behind her, large, rough hands drew her wrists together, and something snapped closed around them.
With horror, she saw a black bag open in front of her face.
She fought again, desperately trying to wrench herself free, dreading the idea of the suffocating black material over her head.
She heard Nahla cry out, “Leave her alone!”
“No, please!” she begged. “Please! I have to stay with—”
The bag descended and darkness smothered her.
Again, she screamed. She writhed and kicked, threshing like a wild thing.
Pain exploded in her stomach. She’d been stunned.
She had a faint sensation of hands lifting her, but after that, nothing.
Chapter Thirty
The next time Parthenia woke up she was in utter darkness and the air felt unbearably humid and close. She could barely breathe. When she tried to move, her wrists sent out stabbing pains and her arms ached.
She turned her head, and her mouth touched textile. Instantly, everything came flooding back: Mezban’s soldiers, Carina being taken away, the black bag over her head, and the stunning pulse round.
She twisted and felt a flat, smooth surface underneath her. Her wrists complained louder. Panic rose in her. She couldn’t bear the idea of the bag covering her eyes, nose, and mouth. Her breathing quickened until she was panting—panting in fear. What if the bag didn’t allow in enough air? She already felt light-headed and nauseated.
Am I already running out of oxygen?
“Help!” she called. “Please, take this bag off me. Please!”
The thick material muffled her voice.
She struggled to sit up, wriggling her shoulders and pressing down with her sore wrists. Sweat prickled her face and neck. When she was finally sitting, she leaned forward and shook her head, trying to dislodge the stifling bag.
Then she had an idea. She bent farther forward and opened her knees. As soon as she felt the material of the bag brush her kneecaps, she closed her knees again. Holding them together firmly, she lifted her head, drawing off the bag.
She was still in darkness, but now she could breathe. As she leaned back in relief, her back hit a wall. She reached out with her fingertips to touch it: cold metal. She shuffled sideways on her bottom and quickly encountered another wall. Moving in the opposite direction brought the same result.
Parthenia tried to stand, but before she rose much higher than a kneeling position, the crown of her head struck the ceiling. She walked forward on her knees
. A few ‘steps’ brought her to a fourth wall.
She appeared to be inside a windowless metal box, every dimension measuring less than a meter and a half. The panic she’d successfully fought off began to return.
Her pulse raced. How long would she have to stay there? Would the Regians leave her there forever?
No. They wanted her mage skills. It made no sense to let her suffocate or die of thirst.
Yet she couldn’t rid herself of the fear. She lay down and curled up on her side, closing her eyes against the darkness. Images of her brothers and sisters as she’d last seen them in the Bathsheba’s refectory flickered through her mind. Where were they all now? Were they all inside metal cubes like her? Were they alone and frightened too? Tears dripped from the side of her face onto the floor.
So much for her brave assertion that she would help Carina. All the Regians had to do was put her in a box and she was a wreck.
Through her feelings of weakness and helplessness, she became aware of a vibration through the floor and realized she recognized the sensation—it was the throb of a starship engine.
Was she still aboard the Bathsheba? She didn’t recall noticing the vibration of the colony ship’s engines before. She’d assumed the vessel’s size dampened them out. So, if she wasn’t on the Bathsheba, was she on the Regians’ ship? Or was she already aboard a shuttlecraft and being taken down to their planet?
Their world had to be her final destination. What would happen there? She shuddered. The aliens would want her to Cast for them, that much was certain. Should she? Or should she fake terror like she had before? Not very much faking would be required.
***
Parthenia didn’t know how long she’d been trapped inside the cube except that it seemed like hours. She’d pushed against all the sides, the ceiling, and the floor until she was exhausted. After that, she’d lain on her side for a long time, trying to mentally still her fears.
Finally, she’d fallen asleep and dreamt about being trapped at the bottom of a deep well, the water inside gradually rising. She could see the bright circle of the opening, and peering down at her was her father, laughing and waving. She called out to him as the water rose above her shoulders and crept up her neck, imploring him to throw down a rope and pull her up, but he’d only laughed louder.