Not Fade Away: Interstellar Rescue Series Book 4

by Donna S. Frelick

  Sam noticed. “Hey, look, he’s awake!”

  A monitor by the bed beeped insistently; a brawny woman with steel-gray hair reached over to turn it down. “Welcome back, hon!”

  He tried to sit up, but learned right away that was a no-go. As soon as he lifted his head, the room spun wildly and black spots stole his vision. The monitor hit a higher pitch, too, alarmed at his audacity.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place. “Stay still. I’ll raise the bed for you.” The head of the bed lifted slowly until he could make eye contact with the people around him without passing out.

  “Now, to answer your question,” the woman said, “he should be in the regen tank for at least a week—”

  “No!”

  Everyone turned to look at him—Sam, Gabriel and the woman, who wore green scrubs and a nametag reading “Doc Berta.” Rafe could only assume he was in the Shadowhawk’s sickbay, and that Gabriel had brought him here. But he wasn’t going to stay here long. He had work to do.

  “Excuse me, when and where did you earn your medical degree?” Doc Berta asked him. “And, more importantly, when did you become Chief Medical Officer of this tug? Because that’s who makes the decision about whether somebody goes in the regen tank or not—not the patient. Not even the captain.”

  Rafe had to admit the woman looked formidable. And Sam looked ready to back her up. Even Gabriel had raised an eyebrow that looked for all the world like a flag of surrender.

  Still, he knew a thing or two about healing battlefield injuries. “So, Doc, if I stay under the healing light at maximum for the required number of hours, is the wound in danger of further bleeding?”

  “Of course not, but—”

  “Am I in danger of developing a life-threatening infection?”

  “That is unlikely, however—”

  “Will I be able to walk on the leg?”

  At this the doctor smiled and crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Absolutely not. Without the regen tank, you will delay complete healing of the muscle fibers in that leg, making it unable to bear weight properly for at least another week.”

  Shalssit! “But I can use a servo-brace.”

  “To do what?” The doctor threw up her hands in exasperation. “To walk around your house? Yes! To take your girl for a stroll downtown? Maybe! To fight off a gang of alien killers? Not so much! You’re risking permanent disability to hit the battlefield again too soon against all good sense. Or am I missing something here?”

  Rafe glanced at Gabriel, whose eyebrow seemed stuck in that raised position. “Actually, yes, I believe you are.”

  “No, wait, don’t tell me,” the doctor said, gazing up at the overhead, her hand over her heart. “You have an important mission that just can’t wait. Only you can complete this mission, no one else! The whole galaxy depends on it!” Her gaze rolled down to fix on his face. “Do I have it right?”

  The whole galaxy can screw itself, he thought. I only care about two people.

  “No,” he said, meeting her sarcasm with all the sincerity he could muster. “My father has dementia. Routine is important to him. He relies on me to be there.” He decided to leave Charlie out of this for the moment. Doc Berta didn’t look like the romantic type.

  The doctor swiveled to glare at her captain. “Is this true? His father’s dirtside? And this guy’s the old man’s caregiver?”

  Sam straightened under Doc Berta’s onslaught, but he didn’t back up; Rafe could see he was used to dealing with the woman. “True. His regular nurse is with him for the time being, but—”

  “But nothing,” Doc Berta shot back. “This boy needs to be with his father. He can’t be hanging around here for a week in a regen tank!”

  “If you say so, Doc.” Sam grinned and winked at Rafe.

  The doctor ushered the two men away from Rafe’s bedside with the two-handed wave a herder might have used on a recalcitrant psoros. “Now you two get out and let me do my job. I’ll have the light on him for a couple of hours and have the synthesizer build him a brace. Come back at 1400.”

  Sam and Gabriel followed orders, glancing at him in sympathy as they left.

  Then Doc Berta put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna knock you out for a while, son. I won’t lie to you—putting you under that light when it’s set for maximum accelerated healing is gonna hurt like a sonofabitch. Just remember you asked for it.”

  Vaalud Zouk stared at the message transmitted less than half a segment ago from the Communications Officer on the bridge of the Moro. He had been waiting for a message from the half-breed Ninoctin he’d paid to track Del Gordon on Earth, but instead a human underling in the Grays’ vast slaving network on Earth had sent him this! The words blurred as blood beat in his temples and a red haze obscured his vision. His hand shook with rage. If he hadn’t prided himself on maintaining his control under all circumstances, he would have been screaming in frustration.

  How could they have failed so miserably? How? All the curses in all the languages he knew were not enough to describe the idiots (and their progenitors) who had found Gordon, but failed either to kill or to capture him as instructed. The half-breed himself was dead and his local organization was in disarray, but that wasn’t the worst outcome of this disaster. Oh, no! Now Zouk’s prey was aware his hiding place had been discovered, and he would soon be on his way to a new one. Zouk had lost him!

  He paced his cabin in a tight, furious circle, his mind sifting through his limited options. The Moro was on course for Earth, but the ship wouldn’t exit the final A10 jump node into Sol system space for another 40 segments—nearly a day and a half in planetary reckoning. Plenty of time for Gordon to have disappeared without a trace. He couldn’t trust the Grays’ human agents on the ground to track Gordon’s movements; they had already proven their incompetence. Zouk would be forced to start his search practically from zero. He ceased his pacing, grabbed a cup off the desk beside him and threw it against the opposite bulkhead, where it shattered into a satisfying number of tiny fragments.

  The only good thing in this, Zouk thought, was that his elbows and knees had healed fully. He’d had no pain when he’d thrown the cup; his arm had felt quite strong. He paced without limping, the joints performing smoothly. He spent much of his idle time on the ship exercising, building up the strength in his legs and arms to support the new joints. He expected to be back to his old form by the time they reached Earth, maybe even better than he’d been before the fight in the alley on Beh Deen II.

  He would need his strength and all his wits to salvage this job. The message that had fluttered to the deck when he’d thrown the cup reported a Rescue team was in place around Gordon now, a team that included a Thrane. For any other tracker that might have meant the end of the hunt. The Rescue team might even have been able to pry the Grays’ precious secret from Gordon’s feeble mind by now. The Minertsans could well refuse to pay him for the kill.

  It didn’t matter. For Zouk, a target once identified was always a target, especially if he had shed blood in pursuit of his prey. Let Rescue do its best to protect the old man. Zouk had his own reasons for finishing this job. And he never backed down from a challenge.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Charlie stared into her mug, studied the greenish ring in the bottom that was all that was left of her third cup of tea? Her fourth? She’d lost track. Her mind was reeling, her body buzzing with caffeine, adrenalin and lack of sleep.

  She and Rayna had tucked Louise into her own bed at home, unchained and tended to the deliriously happy dogs and returned to Rafe’s cabin, and all the while Rayna had spoken only of the matters at hand. Once they’d gotten home, the Rescue Chief of Field Operations had turned Charlie over to Lana for the “debriefing” she was owed, claiming Lana would know more what it was like to have her “universe turned inside out.”

  Now Charlie was working hard to comprehend the information she’d been given over the last hour or so, trying to reconstruct her world according to
a whole new design, fighting to make her altered reality seem, well, real.

  But she was failing miserably. The galaxy was filled with inhabited planets. Beings moved easily among the stars through a system of wormhole-like “jump nodes” that had been discovered and mapped long ago. Bad guys—aliens—called “Grays” stole people, including humans from Earth, and used them as slaves. (Humans were often complicit in this trafficking, and people might even have gone missing from right around Masey without anyone noticing.) Good guys called “the Interstellar Council for Abolition and Rescue” fought the aliens, and sometimes returned the slaves to Earth.

  And most devastating of all: the man she had just slept with was one of those Rescue agents, a fact he’d hidden from her despite their intimacy. She’d known as soon as the assassin had come for Del that she’d lose Rafe; she knew now she’d never had him in the first place.

  “It’s a lot to take in,” Lana said, her expression full of sympathy. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you told us we were nuts and walked away.”

  “Not this one, I’m guessing,” Rayna muttered.

  Charlie shook her head. “I think I’ve seen too much for that.” A dead man who wasn’t quite human, weapons that didn’t look like anything in a TV police show.

  “I get it. Even before Gabriel and I bonded, there was just too much that didn’t add up.” Lana cocked her head at Charlie. “Maybe Rafe is another reason you aren’t turning your back on all this?”

  “Rafe has nothing to do with it,” Charlie said, her face burning. “I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Lana raised an eyebrow. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get personal. It’s just that he was awful quick to come to your defense earlier.” She glanced at Rayna, whose face gave away nothing. “From what I know of him, that’s not typical. He’s got a rep as the independent type.”

  Charlie stared at the two women in surprise. Rafe had come to her defense? Well, better late than never, she supposed, but it didn’t quite heal the rift between them.

  “He lied to me, Lana. And from what you’ve just told me, he didn’t just lie once; he did it over and over.” A voice deep inside protested in his defense, calling her unfair, but Charlie stifled it. She had a right to her anger.

  “You can blame me for that,” Rayna said. “And Rescue. He grew up in this organization; it’s practically in his DNA. He wanted to tell you. He was under orders to keep it to himself.”

  Orders that had torn them apart—and left him bleeding and pale on the floor of Doc Rainey’s basement. She met Rayna’s steady gaze with a cold glare; if the Rescue chief was ready to take the blame, Charlie was more than ready to give it.

  Lana spoke again. “Charlie. Trust me when I say I know exactly how you feel. These men—the people in Rescue—they’re sworn to protect Earthers like us from the knowledge we’ve just given you. Earth is a backwater in the galaxy. We’re not ready for prime time. That principle is drummed into Rescue agents from the minute they sign up. The fact that Rafe grew up in Rescue only makes it worse. Both Del and Rafe’s mother were agents.” Lana smiled. “Still, Rafe cares for you; he would have broken that rule eventually.”

  Maybe, Charlie thought, her conscience needling her again. But she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

  Rayna exhaled. “Definitely. I don’t think I could have held him off much longer. I was losing that battle.”

  “I don’t guess it matters now,” Charlie said. “He’ll be leaving soon. Del’s no longer safe here.” Her heart twisted at the thought of it.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Rayna said.

  Charlie raised her head. “What?”

  “We’re not finished here yet.”

  Charlie realized Lana had explained a great many things, but she hadn’t explained exactly why Del was so important to them. “You want something from Del and Rafe,” she said to Rayna. “It must be vital if somebody is trying to kill Del for it.”

  “It’s of galactic importance, yes,” Rayna said, her expression closed off.

  Charlie decided to wait her out.

  After a long awkward moment, the CFO blew out a breath. “The Grays have a new weapon. A planet-killer. Del’s the only one left alive who knows where to find it.”

  Charlie almost laughed. “But Del can’t remember what day it is half the time. I mean, he’s been doing well lately, but—”

  “Yes,” Lana cut her off. “But there’s a chance his mind may retain some bits of useful knowledge. If Del ever knew where that thing was birthed, Gabriel will be able to find it in what’s left of his memory.”

  Charlie remembered Louise slumped over in the front seat of the SUV. And the men lying scattered in the farmyard as if lightning had struck.

  She stared at Lana in horror. “You can’t mean—”

  “Gabriel is a telepath—a very good one.” Lana met her gaze without flinching. “He’s going to use his talent to examine Del’s mind.”

  Charlie opened her mouth, but Lana intercepted her with a raised hand. “And, okay, no, it’s not like anything you’ve seen on TV. It’s much more delicate. And, yes, Gabriel is partly alien—he’s half Thrane, as if that means anything to you. There are no Vulcans, that’s a television show, but Thranes are real and so are their psi talents.”

  Lana seemed so . . . human. So sane. And she was married to this alien?

  Charlie appealed to Rayna. “Del and Rafe are okay with this?” Del was barely capable of giving consent, but she couldn’t imagine Rafe agreeing to such a thing.

  Rayna sighed. “We’re still working on that.”

  Rafe was slicked with sweat, every step he took an effort, even with the servobrace on his damaged leg. The device took his weight when he shifted to his right leg, it bent as his knee flexed, and it weighed next to nothing. But walking still required the use of dozens of stabilizing muscles he’d never realized he had—in his hip, in his back, even in his ankle and foot. Getting around with the brace was harder than he’d expected. The trip from Sickbay to the D-Mat room had taken fifteen minutes. And his thigh burned like a shalssiti pultafa.

  “You’re sure you don’t need help?” Gabriel asked him for the third time.

  He clenched his teeth as he paused to lean against the bulkhead. “I’m fine. We’re almost there.” He glanced up at Gabriel. “But I needed to say something to you anyway.”

  The Thrane waited, his expression wary.

  “I wouldn’t be here if not for you,” Rafe said. He found the admission cost him nothing. He’d learned what kind of man Gabriel was. “Thank you for having my back.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “That’s what teammates do.”

  “Still.” Rafe cast about for a minute, trying to find the right words. In the end, he just came right out with it. “I’ve decided to let you scan Del. If he’s okay with it.”

  “I knock out four guys in that farmyard, blind four more, and now you say it’s okay for me to scan Del?” The corners of Gabriel’s mouth curved upward.

  Rafe grinned back at him. “If you’d killed them I might have had a few more reservations.”

  “It was close enough,” Gabriel muttered.

  “You know, I could use your help for the next few days.” Rafe looked down at the brace on his leg. “Vaalad Zouk will be showing up any time now, and I’m not ready.”

  Gabriel lost his sense of humor. “You won’t be moving?”

  He shook his head. “Might as well meet him now and be done with it.”

  “I agree. Ray and Sam will supply you with security from the ship, I’m sure.”

  “But not you.” Rafe couldn’t explain why that disappointed him. Twelve hours ago, he’d been ready to boot the guy off-planet himself.

  “That depends on what your father tells us,” Gabriel said. “But I doubt it.”

  Rafe nodded. Of course, with his superior psi skills, the Thrane would be needed once they found the planet-killer. Not so long ago Rafe would have fought to
be included on the team that took that monster down, bum leg or no. But these weeks with his father and Charlie had changed him. He was fighting now not just against what was in front of him, but for what was behind him— his home, his family, Charlie. For the first time in his life his place wasn’t halfway across the galaxy. It was defending a little patch of a planet called Earth.

  Rafe took a breath and pushed off the corridor wall. He quickened his pace toward the D-Mat room, the servos in the leg brace whining. He knew the permanent replacement joints they put in people’s legs were a lot quieter than this. Did it have to make so much freakin’ noise?

  But he made his goal, and he and Gabriel stepped onto the D-Mat pad. Seconds later they re-materialized in the small square of snow-covered lawn at the back of his cabin. Soft yellow light shone from every window of the place, beckoning him in from the dark night of the woods. Crisp, cold air carried the smell of woodsmoke and frost-bitten leaves. Almost instantly he heard the bark—Happy. Gods, he never thought he’d look forward to seeing that furry creature! But if the dog was here, Charlie was here, and his whole body was yearning to see her again.

  He tried to take a step—and nearly threw himself face-first into the snow. Gabriel caught him with a grip around his bicep.

  He shrugged him off. “Thanks, but I’ve got this.”

  Gabriel threw up his hands. “Fine. You’re on your own. Anyway, I’m tired of watching you shuffle around like a broke-back slime devil. I’m going to see my wife.”

  Rafe watched him go, envying his speed. He had only just started after his friend when Happy came streaking out of the door, released by Gabriel’s attempt to enter. The dog ran up to him, wriggling and woofing in delight.

  He finally looked up from his pet-fest with Happy, and there was Charlie, standing at the bottom of the porch stairs. Rafe couldn’t be sure whether she waited to embrace him or banish him from her life forever. Her expression was carefully controlled, as if she might cry at any moment. Maybe she had been crying; her eyes were puffy and red. Had she been worried for him? His chest went hollow at the thought. No one worried for him. Not since . . . well, not for a long time.