She dropped a hand beside her leg and signaled the warriors behind her: Project obedience. Three fingers pointing forward meant they would focus on the security officers ahead. She would take care of Onruang.
His mind might have been made of paper for all the resistance it offered. Projecting both obedience and a desire to please, she spoke in a low tone and hoped it wouldn’t be picked up by nearby cams. “Your security net has blind spots, yes?”
“Yes, of course. No net is perfect.”
“And as the Operations Master, you know where the blind spots are.”
He puffed up. “There’s nothing on my ship I don’t know about.”
“Are there any nearby?”
“Right up there,” he said, pointing ahead. “It’s a dead end leading to slave quarters.”
“Take us there and stop.”
They gathered in the tiny stub of a corridor that ended at one door and had two more on each side. It was so small that not all of her warriors fit. Those who did not stood on guard, affecting nonchalance for the sake of the security officers watching the cams. This would have to be quick.
She didn’t need to give the command to her warriors. They had rehearsed this many times and knew exactly what to do.
Before Onruang could utter a word, she seized his jaw, slid her hand behind his neck, and pressed their foreheads together. With no care for possible damage, she drove deep into his will and rewrote it from the bottom up. Not even during the Battle of Alsea had she been so ruthless. But she needed more than simple compliance. She needed intelligent, proactive support.
This close, she heard the faint voice in his internal com. The security chief was surely checking up on his disappearance.
“You’re fine,” she whispered. “You merely wanted a private moment with me.”
“I’m fine, Chief,” he said in Common. “Just wanted a bit of privacy to enjoy the scenery. Have you seen their emissary?”
A tinny laugh sounded, followed by a few short words that sounded like a sign-off.
She stayed a few pipticks longer, strengthening her control. When she withdrew, he blinked at her in lustful adoration.
“Did I tell you how good you look in that uniform? Like a big hunting cat with claws.” He reached out, intending to touch one of the sheaths crossing her chest.
Disgusted, she stepped away. Though she had practically guaranteed this response with her words, that didn’t make it more tolerable.
But it did give her an opportunity to put on a show for the officers watching through the cams.
He followed as she backed into the main corridor.
“You said we’d make invaluable slaves. What would you do if I were your slave?”
“If only you were,” he purred, looking her up and down. “I’d worship you the way you should be worshiped.”
“How?”
Had his will been intact, he probably would have reacted the same way. She allowed his grasping fingers to brush her breasts, let him bring his mouth close to hers—and then seized his right hand, thumb pushed into the pressure point between his third and fourth knuckles. She twisted his hand and yanked it across her body, turning at the same time and shoving her other thumb into his elbow. A quick thrust pushed his elbow above his shoulder and forced him up on his toes.
Still turning, she pulled down as she went, ending by standing behind him with his arm extended and every joint locked. He was now bent at the waist, off balance and no threat at all.
She could have stopped there and proven her point, but the misery pulsing through the bulkheads gave her too many mental images. Why had Onruang known there was a blind spot here? How many slaves had he abused in that corridor stub where no one could see?
Pushing his arm forced him to lower his head further and step forward in an attempt to relieve the painful pressure. She offered no respite, marching him across the corridor until his head banged into the bulkhead in full view of any security cams in the area.
“Don’t ever touch me or anyone else without their consent,” she snapped. “That includes slaves.”
“I won’t,” he managed in a strained voice. “I thought you wanted it.”
“You thought wrong. And you call that worship?”
She let go and stepped back, ostentatiously brushing off her sleeves. He straightened, grimacing as he gingerly rotated his elbow and wrist.
“At least he had the right animal,” Senshalon said. “Vallcat Vellmar.”
She smiled at the old nickname, a tiny bit of normality in this extraordinarily dangerous place. “Call me that again and I’ll push you into the wall, too.”
“I’d be a little harder to manage.”
The other three security officers were watching their Alsean counterparts with a telltale eagerness. They now had four turned officers and a much better tactical position.
She extended her hand down the corridor. “Take us to the bridge.”
18
Invisible threat
The Vengeance was two ships in one, Vellmar thought as she followed their guides down yet another short corridor. There was the wide open, pretentious part, exemplified by the shuttle bay. Then there was this maze of cramped spaces containing machinery, storage, processing areas, and slaves. An unmistakable stench attested to the presence of sewage.
Just past the sewage treatment, they entered a ladder shaft even narrower than the first one. “Officers don’t use this,” Onruang said. “It runs through the slave quarters. Bakshi won’t expect to find us here.”
“I thought you said we were going through the stables?”
Ahead, the officer on point chuckled.
“It’s slang for slave quarters,” Onruang explained.
“Too bad forced obedience doesn’t include basic decency,” Dewar muttered behind her.
The four officers clanged up the metal steps, making no effort to be quiet. Vellmar held out her hand and gestured palm downward, silently ordering her warriors to tread lightly. It helped that their boots were soft-soled. Voloth military boots seemed designed to make as much noise as possible.
They did not sound like a group of fifteen. They sounded like four arrogant officers who had never considered stealth.
The leading officer stopped at a landing and reached for the door panel. On the other side of the door were nine emotional signatures bearing none of the arrogance of officers and much of the feel of slaves, with a strong layer of desperate determination.
“Stop,” Vellmar said. “Step back.”
He obeyed instantly.
She squeezed past the two officers still on the ladder, positioned herself to the side of the door, and tapped the control pad.
As the door slid open, a metal bar sliced through the air where the soldier’s head would have been. Vellmar caught it and twisted, bringing a skinny body stumbling forward. It was a young man, so thin that he could muster no resistance as she spun him around, pulled him against her, and put the bar beneath his chin. Then she marched him out into the corridor.
Eight sets of fearful eyes stared up at her.
“Shekking Mother! They’re children.”
Her warriors crowded out to see.
The eldest was the one in her arms; she didn’t think he was more than sixteen. The youngest gripped a hammer in her fist and looked to be Jaros’s age. All were armed with various builder’s tools.
She released the boy and held out the metal bar. He looked up, cautious but hopeful, and she nodded.
He accepted the bar.
Holding up her hand, she pointed at her wrist and activated the speaker. “It’s all right. We won’t harm you.”
The voice of Lhyn Rivers spoke from her wristcom, a calm stream of Common that alleviated their fear.
“I’d like to ask you some questions, if you’ll stay with us. If you want to run, that’s all right, too. But I hope you won’t.”
“What about the beaters?” the oldest boy asked.
“The beaters?”
&nb
sp; He pointed to the stairwell behind her. “Security officers. They’re the ones who hand out most of the punishments.”
She thought of Rax’s scars, imagined them on these tiny bodies, and clenched her fists. “We have four officers with us, but they won’t harm you either.”
The little girl snorted with all the cynicism of a weary adult. “You can’t promise that.”
“Yes, I can.”
“You have Operations Master Onruang with you,” she said. “Nobody gives him orders except the captain and the commodore.”
“Master Onruang,” Vellmar called.
The clang of boots on metal heralded his appearance in the doorway. Sturdy and well-fed, clad in his fancy uniform festooned with ornaments, he looked like a different species than the skinny children in their plain brown trousers and shirts.
“No further, please,” she said. “For the sake of the children.”
He folded his arms over his chest and glared at them, but did not step past the threshold.
“It’s true,” the eldest gasped. “The stories, they’re true! You can control their minds. That’s why they want to wipe out your planet.”
Vellmar took a chance and crouched down to their level. “Yes, it’s true,” she said softly. “But don’t give that away. There are other officers watching us on security cams.”
He looked from her to Onruang, then gave a delighted laugh. “Not here, they’re not. This cam’s been broken for days. They haven’t fixed it because it wasn’t a priority, what with the battle and all. That’s why we set our ambush here.” Turning to the little girl, he added, “It’s all right, Enzi. They can’t hurt us now.”
She eyed Onruang. “Can we hurt him?”
“You can try,” he snarled.
“Master Onruang! You will not hurt these children or any slave. Not ever again. Or I will be very displeased.”
“I’m sorry.” He dropped his head, radiating dismay.
While the children looked on slack-jawed, Vellmar said, “No, you may not hurt him. He’s taking us to the bridge. We can’t get through the locks and security measures without him.”
“Too bad,” Enzi said. “We wanted him to die.”
Never would she have imagined such cold malice in a child. Then again, the girl was not as young as she had first thought. Her emotional signature bore the maturity of someone older and far too experienced.
“They’re malnourished.” Dewar was beside her, looking at the children in horror. “Mother of us all, do they not feed their slaves?”
“They feed us.” Enzi’s sneer twisted her face as soon as she understood the translation. “Enough to keep us alive so we can serve them. Not enough so that most of us can’t be bribed with an extra portion.”
Dewar unslung her pack and knelt, setting it on the deck. “I have food. It doesn’t taste very good, but it will give you strength and energy.”
That was all it took to win their trust. They crowded around, eagerly accepting the energy bars. Vellmar had thought they would cram the food in their mouths, and while two did, the others took small bites and blissfully savored them.
She wanted to kill every officer on this ship.
“Why were you here?” she asked. “I can only imagine the penalty for attacking officers.”
The eldest boy spoke up. “To find you. Everyone’s been watching the broadcast. Everyone knows you have a Seeder goddess on your side. You can take us back with you.”
“We were being escorted by forty-eight security officers until a few ticks ago,” she pointed out. “How did you plan to get through them?”
“They never look behind them. Not at us. We’re invisible until they need us. We planned to hit them from behind, take one disruptor each, and fight. If you joined in, we could have taken them all.”
Enzi twirled her hammer in one hand while taking a bite of her energy bar. “Good for kneecaps,” she said through a mouthful of food.
“Then we heard about the bomb and that the masturbator was down to three beaters.”
She tapped her wristcom, wondering if the translator had gone awry. “The masturbator?”
One of the younger boys laughed, spraying crumbs. He instantly clapped a hand over his mouth, then examined his palm and licked it.
“Master Beater,” the eldest explained.
Her smile set off a round of chortles, though it wasn’t the joke that amused her. Onruang had never realized that his disdain for the slaves was returned in full. Abuse of power and bodies had earned their fear but not their respect.
“Some of us stayed behind to watch where you went. Once we knew where you were going, we came here.” He pointed down the corridor. “Onruang was taking you to the bridge by way of the master chef’s kitchen and the captain’s mess.”
“Did you consider the consequences of failure?” she asked.
Several of the children looked blank.
“She means did we worry about what would happen after,” Enzi told them. “If we couldn’t get the Alseans to help.”
Nine heads shook back and forth.
These children had embarked on a suicide mission. They would be free or die in the attempt, and it was clear from their emotional signatures that they were prepared for either outcome.
“Tell me something,” Vellmar said. “If we released all the slaves but kept the hangers and officers in lockdown, what would the slaves do?”
“Go to the officers’ mess,” said one.
Several giggled.
“Some would tell on you,” the eldest said. “The ones in favor with the officers. They get bigger quarters and extra privileges for, um, doing things. Some of them are more powerful than the hangers. They’d sell you in a heartbeat.”
There went that idea.
“Do you know any way to shut down the weapons rooms?” It was unlikely, but—
“Yeah,” he said. “Cut the power. Rail guns and automatic loaders don’t work without it. They could still load the launch tubes by hand, but the loaders won’t feed any new missiles to the rooms. Wouldn’t affect the laser cannon, ‘cause that’s run from the bridge, but the weapons rooms are on a different circuit.”
“You know a lot about it.”
“We’re in operations. We’re the ones who fit best in the maintenance spaces. I don’t know how to cut power to the whole circuit, but I know someone who does. Cutting power to the officers’ quarters would keep them in lockdown, too.”
He spoke the truth, or at least believed it. She had found a useful ally.
Better yet, she had found an invisible threat.
“If you could cut power to the weapons rooms, how many missiles would they be able to shoot before running out?”
“Only what’s already in the launch tubes. Missiles stay in the armory. The loaders run behind the bulkheads and deliver one at a time.”
“Couldn’t they pull apart the bulkhead and get the missiles out of the loaders?”
This was apparently quite funny.
“It’s hangers and officers in those rooms,” Enzi said when she stopped laughing. “You think they get themselves dirty clearing jams? Or take the risk? That’s a slave job. They don’t know how to do it. Most wouldn’t even fit.”
Vellmar was beginning to understand that Rax and his settlers were more privileged than she had thought.
“If I can get the right slaves released, the ones who can help you, can you cut the power? Shut down the weapons rooms and lock down the officers?”
“Yeah.” The eldest boy stepped closer, his breath fragrant from the winterbloom flavor of his energy bar. “But you have to promise to take us back with you.”
She held a fist to her heart. “On my honor as a warrior, I promise that if you help me take this ship, I will bring you back to Alsea when this is over.”
It would be a bureaucratic nightmare. Lancer Tal might strangle her.
He copied her, holding a fist to his underdeveloped chest. “It’s a deal.”
“How are you goin
g to release them?” Enzi demanded.
“Master Onruang, can you open the doors to specific slave quarters from here?”
Onruang nodded, eager to please after his earlier chastisement. “I’ll call them in. They can be remotely released.”
She addressed the children in a lower voice. “Can you get where you need to go on your own?”
Their faces fell. Obviously, they had not considered this. “We’re on lockdown,” one of the middle children said. “They’ll catch us as soon as we go into a monitored area.”
“Then you’ll need escorts.” She had hoped to take the officers on the bridge with her, but this was more important.
The children were agog when the three security officers greeted them courteously—as instructed by their Alsean handlers—and swore to help in any way they could.
“Bend down,” Enzi ordered one, testing her control.
When he bent over, she lifted a tiny fist and swung for his face.
Vellmar caught her arm. “No. You have power over them, just like they used to have power over you. If you abuse it, you’re no better than them. Do you want to be like them?”
Agonized indecision flared through her emotional signature. She badly wanted to hurt them, yet could hardly bear the disgust at thinking of herself that way.
Scowling, she stepped back. “I’m nothing like you.”
The eldest boy addressed his little company. “Remember the cams and the other beaters. We can’t be seen ordering these three around. If anyone sees them obeying us, we’re done for.”
Enzi’s eyes widened. “That’s true. We have to be careful.”
That, Vellmar thought, might be a more powerful incentive than moral superiority. “And you need to be fast. We don’t have much time. Give Master Onruang the names you need.”
The children conferred and came up with four names, then watched in gratified amazement as Onruang ordered the releases in his normal arrogant tone. He even provided the plausible explanation that they were required for repairs and would be escorted by security officers.
“Mind control,” Enzi said happily, chewing the last bite of her energy bar. “Neat trick.”
Alsea Rising: The Seventh Star (Chronicles of Alsea Book 10) Page 12
