by Megan Derr
Table of Contents
Kidnapped
Book Details
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
About the Author
Kidnapped
The Infinitum Government: 1
Megan Derr
Infinitum Government Code 3.18.21.512: Genetic Experimentation Shall Be Strictly Forbidden
No job is more arduous than that of Rehab Guard—those appointed to guard the many and varied prisoners within the Infinitum Government, the ruling power of a vast interplanetary alliance. To be a Rehab Guard requires very specific qualifications and years of specialized training. It is a brutal, dangerous, and often thankless job—and there is nowhere else Sean would rather be. It keeps him safe, his deadly secret safely buried, and gives him a life as close to normal as he will ever come.
Until the day a new prisoner arrives, a genetically-engineered Draconis with the ability to 'match' to a suitable magics-capable individual and boost his power. Convicted of murder, he is sentenced to Rehab for life, and no one has ever escaped from Rehab. But no one counted on the prisoner matching with Sean, who as a human should not be capable of magics…
Kidnapped, The Infinitum Government: Book One
By Megan Derr
Published by Less Than Three Press LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.
Edited by Samantha M Derr
Cover designed by Megan Derr
This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.
Third Edition January 2019
Second Edition October 2011
Copyright © 2011 by Megan Derr
Printed in the United States of America
Digital ISBN 9781684314652
Print ISBN 9781684314669
To my peeps, those who have been with me practically since I started this whole crazy writing thing and have patiently waited for this story to reappear. I rewrote this for you because I would not be me without you and love you muchly. Never doubt it.
~Meg
Prologue
Planet 5118208 (Rehab), Rehabilitation center 2.2, Sector 9.9
"Hey, Cyan. What the hell is a Draconis?"
Cyan quirked a brow as he strode into the break room and dropped down on the small, battered couch against the far wall. His boots rang on the metal floors that were everywhere in Rehab. "The dumb questions you ask, one would think you live in a closet."
"Damn fucking near. A closet full of violent assholes."
Cyan snorted. "You work on Rehab, Sean. You should know damn near every race in the IG. I know my training didn't fail; therefore, you're an idiot."
Sean rolled his eyes. "Fuck you. Unlike you, Cyan, some of us don't think it's fun to memorize all those dry texts you insist on reading. There is life outside Rehab."
"I prefer life in Rehab," Cyan said with a shrug. Sean started to taunt him more, but it turned into a soft curse when his in-lens fritzed, the information in the thin device shooting sparks of pain through his eye. "Problem, Sean?" Cyan asked, looking at him with concern and some amusement.
"In-lens has had it," Sean replied. That could turn into a really nasty problem. He struggled not to panic. He'd known it was getting on but had pushed off getting a new one even though he knew the risks, because it was so hard to get a replacement. He'd have to pop over to Mars at end of shift and finally take care of the problem. "Guess that fucking Hellcat in 9.1.2 nailed me harder than I thought."
Cyan snickered. "Yeah, I prefer being nailed by Hellcats in an entirely different way."
"You and the rest of the stars," said a warm, amused female voice. They both turned to look at Tiffany, the systems analyst for the sector nine, wing two secluded network. In the dingy gray and black coloring of the break room, her Helior-red hair was a near blinding beacon. "At least you're inoculated, Sean."
"At least it was a Hellcat and not a fucking Sardoran," Cyan muttered. Sean snickered. "It's not funny," Cyan griped.
"That you seem to have some sort of 'come and get me' tattoo that only tentacle races can see? Yes, it is."
"Fuck you." Sean just snickered again. Cyan kicked him.
"Okay, okay," Sean said. He motioned to the file still in his lap, touching the screen to wake it back up. "So what's a Draconis?"
"Surprised you haven't heard of them, actually," Cyan said. "They're causing quite the controversy in the IG right now. Genetically engineered race designed by the Coni. It's a magics capable planet in the third quad. Their magics are diverse, ranging from basic elementals to defensive magics, but not very powerful. They created the Draconis to be legal supplements to increase their power. It's kinda cool what they did, actually."
Tiffany looked up from her own datapad, in-lens flashing as she kept constant watch on her systems. "Yeah, they mate and increase their partner's magics. So romantic!"
Cyan rolled his eyes. "Something like that."
"Mate?" Sean asked, looking back down at the file. The words Mateless—Keep Isolated were typed in green, rather than black like the rest. It meant 'fucking pay attention.'
"They bond and something in their make-up sort of attaches to whoever they bond with, causing some sort of reaction that increases the magics of both the Draconis and the person bonded. Most call that person a Draconis 'mate', though the term 'match' is also used since they can't bond with just anyone. No one knows why Draconis match the way they do, not even the Coni."
Tiffany looked up again. "Part of the controversy surrounding them is that they should have only ever matched with Coni, but these days they're matching with species all across the stars. It's causing loads of problems."
"Yeah," Cyan agreed. "It would suck to be suddenly stuck with someone you never met and unable to separate, because the further apart a Draconis and his match get, the weaker their magics get. Can you imagine? Being a magics capable who suddenly can't use his magics unless the Draconis he got stuck with was nearby?"
Sean frowned. "It can't be that hard to live without magics. Humans have been doing it forever."
"Spoken like a true human," Cyan said lightly. "That's what they'd tell you, Sean. Humans don't have magics, so we can't understand. I say lucky us, but that's probably my human bias speaking."
Tiffany shrugged. "It all evens out."
"Debatable," Cyan said. "Humans don't have magics, but that doesn't mean we should have all the ruling power."
Tiffany started to reply to that, but Sean cut them off before they could start arguing again. He didn't need to put up with yet another political debate. "This file says he's been arrested for murder. Patricide, specifically. Damn."
"Oh?" Cyan asked, leaning over to read the datapad for himself. "Huh. He's half-Draconis, half-human. That should be interesting. Father was the human."
"I wonder why he's being placed in 9.9. He only killed one guy. Fuck, the Klorin in 9.8.2 killed six people, and he's only got a life sentence."
Cyan tapped the bright gre
en letters Sean had read before. "He's unmatched, which means he could possibly match with anyone magics capable in here. Lists his magics as being defensive, meaning he can probably heal, stuff like that. Still, if he has anything that could help him escape…"
"They would have collared him," Sean said, grimacing at the thought of the magics-numbing collars, barely keeping from touching a hand to his throat.
"Yeah, but if he matches then his magics will increase in power."
"Ah," Sean said in comprehension. If that happened, his power would exceed the limits of the collar, which would then conceivably allow the prisoner to escape. Not that he'd ever get off Rehab, not unless he had some truly impressive magics.
"So we're on break after this shift," Cyan said in an abrupt conversation shift. "Wanna take a jaunt somewhere?"
Sean thought a moment. "Sure. Got anywhere in mind?"
"Was thinking Bangkok, or we could rent a private ship and just cruise."
"Or we could cruise leisurely to Bangkok and back," Sean said with a grin. "I've been wanting a ship of my own forever. Just go wherever the hell whenever the hell I want. Got enough points for it and a pilot license. Should get around to actually getting the ship."
Cyan's eyes began to gleam. "You should commission one. Get a sweet custom class with top grade materials. I bet you could even commission a Zero-caliber company to build it. Oh, man. Can you imagine? A gremlin built ship?"
"That would kick ass," Sean said, matching Cyan's eagerness. "Zero companies have serious waiting lists, though. I probably wouldn't get it for at least a term." He grinned. "Would be worth the wait, though. Want to help me start designing it? We could peruse the shipyards here instead of going to Bangkok. I know there's a few Zero-grade companies on Mars; there are always combat class ships docking for repairs and upgrades."
"Men," Tiffany sighed in tolerant amusement. "If you're not discussing your dicks, it's weapons or starships."
"Hey," Cyan said defensively. "We have to know weapons. I'm wearing two dozen at the moment. It would be rather detrimental to my health if I grabbed a stinger instead of a painter when trying to put down a Traxen."
Sean winced at the thought, lightly touching the long, sharp baton slung into its loop low on his left thigh, then the thicker baton set with a nozzle right beside it. Yeah, didn't want to mix up those two, especially when a Traxen was involved. "Come to my house when we get out of here and we can start on the prelim work."
"Cool," Cyan said with a grin right as their in-lens flared with an arrival alert. "Oh, hey. There's our Draconis."
"Should be interesting," Sean replied, tucking away the folder he'd been reading. "Hopefully getting him into solitaire goes without a hitch." Standing up, Cyan one step behind him, Sean moved to the break room door and swiftly punched in the codes to let them out. No matter what, not a single door in Rehab opened without proper codes. Even the locker room required them for entering and leaving.
As the door slid open and Sean passed through, additional sensors scanned his in-lens and his blood for the appropriate electronic and chemical keys. Behind him, Cyan was just as thoroughly checked.
Back in the main portion of Rehab, they swiftly made their way down long halls and through rooms, ignoring the jeers and calls from various prisoners when they passed different cellblocks. The floors and stairs were all grated metal to make cleanup easier when things went sour with a prisoner.
They worked in sector nine, the hardest sector on Rehab. It was the one reserved for the most dangerous adult male prisoners in the stars. That day they were assigned to wings eight and nine, and that meant all incoming prisoners for those areas would be theirs to personally escort to their cells.
In this sector, things often went wrong. Men who committed murder and much worse had no compunctions against resisting authority. It was only part of the reason Rehab guards went through some of the most rigorous training in the Infinitum Government.
Finally they made their way through the maze-like halls, coming to a halt at the edge of Dock 5, where Authority combat class ship was already going through the last of its landing procedures.
"It's about time you two showed up," a man with a bald head and massive mustache barked. "McCracken. Noor. Where the fuck have you been?"
"Break, Captain Waters." Cyan replied, unfazed. "We get those. We're here on time."
"Insubordination," Waters muttered, but subsided. "Fall in."
Cyan and Sean took their places at the edge of the dock as the ship opened and a ramp extended. The prisoner file hadn't included a picture, and they'd moved on to talking about ships before Sean had thought to ask what Draconis looked like. Whatever he'd been picturing, it wasn't anything like the handsome man that was led from the ship, hands bound and a thick magics-dampening collar around his neck. The gray uniforms worn by the IG soldiers escorting him only brought out the brilliance of his scales.
Sean realized he was staring but could not help it. The Draconis was tall, with dark green hair about shoulder length, messy looking. He was bare-chested, as most high class criminals were, his skin human looking; it had a faint gold-brown to it, as though he had a tan, but covering most of it (leaving only much of his torso, the inside of his arms, and his hands bare) were rich green-gold scales. They were beautiful. More scales curved along his cheekbones and brushing just below his green ey—
Pain shot through Sean's head, and he dropped to his knees, clutching his head in agony. People started shouting all around him, and he briefly heard Cyan call his name, then hands grabbed him roughly and he was pressed up against something unbelievably hot.
Then just as suddenly, the noise died. He jerked away from what he realized was someone holding him—and realized it was the prisoner. Sean stared at the man in disbelief, noting from their surroundings that they were on the Auth ship. He reached for his stunner, thumbing it to the highest level.
"Sleep," the Draconis said.
Sean crumpled.
Combat Class Starship C-81261518, The Razor
He woke with a groan and realized almost immediately that he was bound. Testing the restraints, Sean realized they were his own fucking cuffs. Rehab guards always carried four sets. One pair secured his arms to a pipe above his head, and another around his ankles secured to the footboard of the bed. He could feel the weight of the magics collar around his throat, and he bet that was the reason for the nausea as well.
So he was well and truly fucking trapped. Damn it.
What in the fucking hell had happened?
The door chimed, then opened, and Sean stared wide-eyed. He remembered. There'd been pain, and then the Draconis had taken him. "You!" he snarled. "What the fuck did you do? Why am I here?" He recoiled as best he could as the Draconis approached, realizing for the first time that he was dressed only in his black workpants and faded black undershirt. Gone were his jacket, all his weapons and keys, even his damned boots. "What the fuck is going on?"
"You're human, yet we matched," the Draconis said. "I have never met a magics capable human, though I've heard before such mutants occasionally appear. I also heard they never get to live long."
Sean went still and wondered if it was actually possible for a person to feel himself going pale. "Magics capable?" He tried to activate his in-lens and realized he couldn't. He struggled to fight off panic. No, no, no. "How—" The words cut off, Sean unable to say them.
"How did I know?" the Draconis asked. "Like I said, we've matched."
"Matched?" Sean repeated, feeling sick as he realized what that meant. All that he'd recently learned from Cyan about Draconis came flooding back. "How did we match? I can't match! I'm not supposed to have fucking magics!" His life was over. Done. They would kill him now. All his life he'd hidden his magics, done everything he could to be normal. He'd even tricked everyone and gotten into Rehab, where he thought he'd finally be safe. No one with magics capability worked Rehab, just like none of the ruling authorities in the IG could be magics capable.
&nb
sp; "What are you going to do with me?" Sean asked dully. He wished Cyan were there. His oldest friend was calm about everything; the perfect Rehabber. He'd probably already be out of his cuffs and taking over the ship.
Wait; this was an IG military ship. Combat class at that. No civilian should have been able to pilot the damned thing. "How the fuck are you flying this ship?"
The Draconis smirked briefly but did not answer the question. "What's your name?"
"None of your business," Sean snapped. What was he going to do? He couldn't call for help because the minute help arrived, they'd kill him. There was nowhere else for him to go. What was he supposed to do? "I want to know what the fuck you're going to do with me."
"I don't know," the Draconis admitted, misery flashing across his face. "I didn't know I'd match with anyone on Rehab, never mind a Rehabber. This completely screws up all my plans."
Sean glowered at him. "Which were what?" he demanded. "You were going to Rehab. Solitary confinement."
The Draconis ignored him. "I can't just dump you off somewhere, unfortunately. We're matched. I need my magics." He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Damn it."
It was only adding insult to injury, Sean thought, that the prisoner was hardly a chore to look at. The more dangerous the prisoner, the less he wore upon arrival. That made for some hideous sights. The Draconis was a fine exception—or would have been, had he not cuffed Sean to a bed and were he not saying what sounded suspiciously like he would be kidnapping Sean for an indeterminate length of time.
"Are you going to leave me like this?"
"I should let you go?" the Draconis asked. "Not that stupid, thanks. I managed to put you to sleep once, but given we're matched, that's not going to keep working. I'm a total civilian; you'd kick my ass."
"So, what? You just cart me around the stars in order to keep using your magics?"
"Once my mission is accomplished, I'll be more than happy to let you go."
"You'd lose your magics."
The Draconis shrugged. "I'd learn to manage."
