by Megan Derr
Einn drew his stunner and fired, but the man dodged out of the way just in time. Firing again, Einn said, "Freeze or you'll be killed instead of maimed!"
"Well, well, if it's not the rock spider." The voice registered a moment before the man himself did, and Einn stared in shock at Cyan, who coolly faced him down. "I told you, rock spider, it's better to fuck a Rehabber than fuck with one—did you want to test that theory?" Before Einn could speak, Lark fired his own stunner, forcing Cyan to jump back and divide his attention between the two of them. "What in the fuck is going on here? Two-man pirate team?"
"Something like that," Einn said, and started firing again, because business was business. Cyan bolted, realizing he could not stand up against two stunners in such confined quarters.
"Damn it," Lark swore. "Is he really Rehab?"
Einn grunted and led the way from the transport room, stunner at the ready as they began to carefully explore each room. They finally found the two they were after huddled in the main leisure room, fumbling with communication devices that weren't going to work no matter what they did. He frowned, realizing Cyan was missing. "Where is the Rehabber?"
"Here!"
Einn whipped around, but too late, as a booted foot connected with the side of his face and sent him crashing to the ground. He regained his footing, but only to be knocked down again. He heard Lark cry out, saw him run toward them, and snarled, "Do the job! He can't get both of us at the same time!"
Cyan grunted and made to go for Lark, who was bearing down on the other two people on the ship. Einn stood up, wiped blood from his mouth—then leapt up and touched the ceiling, then brought his legs up. Sticking to the ceiling, he crawled along it toward Cyan.
The Draconis and his pale-faced match pointed, and Cyan whipped around—and looked up too late as Einn let go and dropped down on top of him, pinning Cyan to the floor and knocking him out cold. "Damn it!" he swore, while Lark took care of the other two, stunning them into unconsciousness. "This ship only had the two passengers listed. What in the stars is a vacationing Rehab guard doing with them?"
Lark made a face. "Fuck if I know. What do we do with him?"
"He's going to have to come with us," Einn said. "Otherwise, we have to kill him. If we just leave him, he's got more than enough information on us to cause a lot of problems."
"So we're fucked like a Vrill prostitute going for half price," Lark said. "Wonderful. Secure him, then, and let's get the fuck out of here. I say we blow the ship; that'll slow down any investigation."
Einn nodded and dug out a pair of cuffs from the pouch on his thigh, binding Cyan's wrists. "Of all the people to run into, I swear by the cliffs!"
"You know the guy?" Lark asked, hefting the small Draconis over one shoulder.
"I just fucked him three hours ago," Einn replied.
Lark's brows shot up, but then he shook his head. "You should gamble, given the odds that play to your favor. Come on, the longer we linger, the likelier the danger."
Nodding, Einn stood and hefted Cyan up and over his shoulder, following Lark back through the ship to the transport room. When they were laid out on the transport, he went back for the Draconis' match, a delicate-looking Vrill as green and lovely as they were known to be. Lifting the woman up in his arms, he carried her to the transport.
Half an hour later, all three captives were in holding. Lark scowled at them. "What in the fuck are we going to do with a Rehabber? He'll be missed a lot sooner than the other two and not in a good way. We'll be killed for this."
"I don't know," Einn snapped. "We'll figure something out. Right now, we have a ship to blow up. Let's do that, get out of here, and then we'll deal with the Rehabber."
"Fine," Lark bit out, and stomped off to the storage locker where they kept the explosives. Einn sighed and went to ready the ship for a quick departure.
Chapter Five
Custom class starship X-11944654, the dragonfly
Cyan was handcuffed to a wall and more than a little pissed about it. They were heavy cuffs, thick, wide, and stiff. They were also the kind that required a code to unlock, too tight to maneuver out of easily, and prone to cause permanent damage if worn too long. Even Rehab didn't use them very often. The minute he managed to get free, he was going to murder someone, starting with that stars damned Fornarian. He jerked at his cuffs, annoyed when they stayed in place, then forced himself to subside. He'd get nowhere if he damaged his own wrists.
On the far side of the holding cell, near the door, a slight-statured Draconis and his Vrill lover—and match, Cyan suspected, though they'd never said as much—huddled together. Cyan frowned at them, pensive, wondering what in the hell was going on.
He was still fairly certain no one was after him; it was too much coincidence that the Fornarian he'd fucked had been sent after him. One, he wasn't IG. Two, he was definitely a criminal, probably a pirate or mercenary. Three, if he had been sent after Cyan and was under orders to take him back home no matter what, he would have taken him before they fucked.
Well, possibly after; things like morals and ethics were not always preferred in IG goons, especially magics capable that were not officially on the payroll. What a pity the Fornarian—Einn, that was his name—was turning out to be such an annoyance, because he'd definitely been an excellent fuck. Cyan huffed irritably and wondered when someone would come along to talk to them.
He looked at the couple again, and asked, "Any idea why they've kidnapped you?"
"N-no," the Draconis said.
Cyan narrowed his eyes. "You're lying. I don't have time for bullshit. Tell me what you know, or I can't figure out a way to help you."
"There are rumors," the Vrill woman said, ignoring the scowl the Draconis shot her.
"Rumors?" Cyan pressed gently, as though he were talking to the scared prisoners in Rehab that had committed petty crimes and were really only locked up to serve some politician's agenda.
"That Draconis are vanishing—being kidnapped," the woman said. "Always matched Draconis. No one knows how many people are actually missing. We thought it was just a paranoid rumor, a scare tactic, since the trial for the Draconis is going before the Star Assembly next term."
Cyan grunted, turning that over in his mind. It would not surprise him to learn there was something that fishy going on. He could name half a dozen politicians on Zero who would not hesitate to use the Draconis and the raging debate about them for personal agendas.
Memories, a too-familiar face, flooded his mind, and Cyan hastily turned away from things he had sworn never to think about again. He had left that life behind. He was Cyan McCracken, Rehabber—and currently, prisoner.
He was going to fracture that Fornarian's face in ten places. "So you think you're the latest victims. Anything else you can tell me about these rumors?"
"No," the Vrill said. "So far as I know, no one knows anything, just that Draconis and their matches keep vanishing. What's going to happen to us?" She started crying quietly, milky white tears trailing down her pale green skin. The Draconis, who had dark skin and blue-black scales, cuddled her close and whispered words that Cyan could not quite catch.
Not that he really needed to catch them. He left them alone and looked more carefully around the holding cell, but it remained a fruitless endeavor. Einn and his Helior buddy knew their work and had obviously known it would be suicide to give Cyan even the slightest bit of leverage.
He could not believe he was handcuffed to the wall of a holding cell on a pirate ship because Einn had dropped on him from the ceiling. Cyan wanted to beat his head into the wall for being taken so fucking easily. He was a First Class Rehabber—he didn't lose because someone dropped on him! Fucking rock spiders. "Have they come by and said anything?"
"They brought food a little while ago; you were still asleep," the woman said.
Cyan frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Were they keeping me unconscious?"
"Yes," the Draconis said. "The Helioran came in shortly after we flew off—and I
think they blew up our ship—and cuffed you, then injected you with something."
Mentally adding 'break Helioran's face after Fornarian's' to his to-do list, Cyan asked, "Can you tell me anything about them? Is it just two of them?"
"Just two, sweetheart, and it's rude to gossip." Einn beamed when Cyan glared at him. "I see you're finally awake. Don't start causing trouble, or we'll put you back to sleep."
Cyan beamed back. "Come on in and try it."
Einn chuckled, winding his long fingers around the bars of the holding cell. "I'm not quite that stupid, but nice try. Stop causing trouble in the ranks, Rehab. I knocked you out once, I can do it again."
"We'll just see," Cyan retorted.
Not replying, Einn pulled a canister from his pouch and shook it, then shoved it threw the bars and pressed down on the nozzle trigger. A fine mist filled the small cell. Cyan sucked in his breath and held it. The others saw him do it too late and succumbed to the sleeper spray. Einn pressed a button out of view on the wall, and a fan kicked up. A few minutes later, the room was clear, and Einn pushed more buttons, turning off the fan and opening the door. "Let's get going," he said, and Cyan heard a grumbled reply before the red-skinned man from earlier appeared and helped Einn haul the two unconscious figures from the cell.
Definitely mercenaries, he thought. Pirates did not travel on such small ships, or with just a two-man crew. But mercenaries hired to kidnap people—that was the sort of job perfect for two men and a small, custom class ship. Interesting that they went custom class; mercs usually went with merchant or fleet class ships. Custom class ships stood out more readily and had to be registered in more places due to the non-standard parts that put them in custom class.
Cyan watched in silence as they dragged the captives away and closed the door. "You can't leave me in here forever!" No reply came, and Cyan kicked angrily at the ground with the heel of his boot. Unfortunately, they could keep him there as long as they liked. He frowned at that. Why were they keeping him locked up? It would have been smarter for the mercenaries just to kill him.
Stars, had they somehow figured out who he was? No, he had taken care of that—anyone who looked him up would find information only on Cyan McCracken. There was absolutely nothing that connected him to Zero or his godforsaken brother. Cyan's mouth tightened as things he'd not thought of for five and a half terms tried to surface. Had it really been that long?
Cyan sighed softly. He hoped to the stars that the bastards let him go before anyone realized that he was missing. He did not want to know what would happen if anyone found out Jade Alexander's twin brother had been kidnapped. He had done his damnedest to walk away from that life; he did not want to be dragged back into it and definitely not this way. "Sean," he muttered, "I'm going to fucking kill you."
He waited through several minutes of doing nothing but avoiding the thoughts in his head, then grew bored with holding still. His shoulders were getting sore from being held up high and out, and his arms liked the arrangement even less. At least the bastards had left his legs free.
Pulling his legs in close, Cyan tested whether or not he would be able to get to his feet. No, he determined after a moment, he was definitely not going to be standing. He really wished they had not been smart enough to go through his clothes and empty all his pockets. They had also, to judge by the lack of weight in his boots, checked those, too. Bastards.
What were they going to do with him? Stars, he still wanted to know why they hadn't killed him.
He also wanted to know why it was always the good fucks who turned out to be so much trouble once they had their clothes back on. Cyan let his head fall back to thunk against the wall. He would not have been nearly so pissed about his predicament if he hadn't actually sort of liked the bastard he had spent all of an hour with. He'd been shameless and fun, and Cyan had been smiling in memory of their hour together when the ship had gone dead in the water.
It was always the good lays, that was certifiable fact. He sighed and tried to think of how the fuck he was supposed to get out of his predicament. If they didn't know who he was, he could possibly play to that. Stars knew nobody wanted to piss off Jade. If he told them the truth, they might let him go. On the other hand, they might just keep him for ransom, at which point things would really get ugly. He would never turn Jade's wrath on another, even a couple of good-for-nothing mercs.
Figuring it all out was giving him a fucking headache. He was going to—
Cyan's thoughts froze as he heard footsteps on the metal grating walkway outside, and he looked up with a glare when Einn filled the cell doorway. "So what are you going to do with me now that you've disposed of your captives? Are they alive?"
"They're alive and should stay that way," Einn said, but Cyan had the impression he wasn't entirely certain of that. "As to you, I have no idea. You've become a problem of the highest order."
Cyan sneered, "I think the only problems on this ship are the two mercenary scumbags kidnapping innocent people. I refuse to be sorry about fucking up your plans. Kill me if you're going to kill me, and if you're not, then do something else and do it fast." Before someone figured out they'd kidnapped Cyan Alexander.
"In that much of a hurry to die?" Einn asked, looking startled by his vehemence.
"I have somewhere I need to be, and I need to be there soon," Cyan replied.
Einn cocked his head. "That's why you were on that ship. I'm going to hazard wherever you were bound, you didn't want people knowing where you were going, which is why you weren't listed on the passenger manifest." Cyan didn't bother to confirm the obvious. "Where are you headed?"
"What the fuck does it matter?"
Einn crouched down, and Cyan tried not to notice, but it was hard not to notice the lithe way Fornarians moved. They were so rare that he'd never encountered one in Rehab, and Rehab usually had at least three of everything. Every part of them was just a little bit longer than was normal on a human—longer legs, longer arms, longer fingers. They were so skinny—on any other race they'd look malnourished or ill—but Fornarians were a study in minimalism. The gray-toned skin that blended into the cliffs of their planet, the spindly limbs, the sharp eyes that could see well in daylight and darkness, the way they moved and could stick to any surface…it all combined to give them the nickname 'rock spider'.
Cyan had only ever met one before, when he'd spent a whole week of leave on Bangkok, and she'd been a fabulous time the whole week. When he'd gone to the bar with Sigma after chancing upon him, he'd only meant to go for a couple of beers and catch up with an old friend, but he'd seen Einn and his ability to think had dropped straight to his cock. It so figured he was a fucking mercenary and completely screwing Cyan over in the worst way.
"Where are you headed?"
"It's none of your fucking business, merc," Cyan snapped. "I'm not playing games with you, so kill me or drop me off or whatever, but stop trying to hold a conversation. Rehabbers don't associate with the prisoners; we just lock them up."
Einn just replied, "Pirate, actually."
Cyan started to reply with something hostile but stopped short. "What?"
"We're pirates."
"What's the fucking difference?"
Mouth twisting in a cynical smile, Einn said, "Pirates just steal. Mercs will do anything."
"Stealing people really seems more a merc thing to me," Cyan snapped.
Einn sighed, but said nothing, simply stood back up and stretched out his long limbs. Cyan really hated that he could not tear his eyes away. "We could take you somewhere in return for your silence."
"Fuck—" Cyan stopped. They were mercenaries—pirates—whatever, criminals. He did not bargain with criminals…but time was short and he had literally no other way to get to Kreska, and if he didn't do something, he was going to die and his death would cause way more trouble than it was worth. "Fine," he bit out, hating it, hating himself, hating the whole fucking universe, but fuck if he had a choice. "I need to get to Kreska. Take me there, we're
even. You let me go, I keep my mouth shut."
"Really?"
"I'm not going to waste my time lying. Do we have a deal or not?"
Einn regarded him warily, even as he punched a button to open the door. "What are you going to do if I let you go?"
"Punch you in the face," Cyan said. Einn laughed and crouched in front of him, in-lens flashing while he probably communicated with the Helioran elsewhere in the ship.
"Guess there's no escaping that," Einn said lightly, and stood up to input the code on the cuff on his right wrist, and then his left. Cyan immediately kicked his legs out from under him, straddled him, and punched Einn in the jaw, exactly as promised. He shook out his hand and flexed the fingers, always forgetting just how fucking dense and hard Fornarians were under their thick skin.
"Bastard," he said, and stood up, leaving Einn lying on the floor. "Where's my stuff?"
Einn snorted as he stood up, testing his jaw and looking amused. "I actually expected you to hit harder. I'm not dumb enough to give your weapons back, Rehab. You'll get them when we dump you on Kreska. Come on, I'll show you the ship. She ain't much to look at, but she's a good ship."
Cyan nodded, agreeing with that statement; from what he could see, she was a good ship, for all she was a bit rundown and clearly survived on used parts and limited repair. "Who's the Helioran?"
"Lark—he's the one who does most of the piloting and navigation," Einn replied. "I'm more the comm."
"And you share the kidnapping duties?"
Einn ignored him and bowed mockingly when they reached the bridge. "Welcome to the Dragonfly, Rehab. Your home away from home until we get rid of you on Kreska."
"The sooner the better," Cyan said.
"It amuses me that you had no trouble fucking me, but it gets your panties in a twist to have to deal with me otherwise. How typically Rehab and high society of you to keep to such a double standard."
