“But you came to your senses.” Acielon struggled to breathe. “You never were truly evil.”
“I hope not.” She shook her head. “But I’m sure Tarkan thinks he is a good person, too. Evil is insidious. Descent into iniquity is an easy slope. Many do not realize what they are becoming. I was lucky to escape the slums of Byzantium-5 when I did.”
Was Acielon ready to face that challenge? What would he do if she turned evil? “You would never go down that slope again, right?”
“I would rather die than hurt the innocents.” Fianna sighed. “At the time, I needed the Dragons’ protection.”
Acielon stepped closer to the console. “I can protect you, now.”
“You?” Fianna took his hand. “You wouldn’t hurt a gnat. Although you surprised me by firing back at these angels.” She chuckled. “But I’m going to have to protect you when we get to Byzantium-5. You are not prepared to face my world.”
The Azurans believed the outside world to be dark and evil. “How wicked is your world?”
“You have no idea.” She flashed a reassuring smile. “But you showed a lot of courage back there, fighting an entire legion. You are my savior.”
Heat crept up Acielon’s neck at the compliment. “I did what was necessary. And I did not kill. The Avenging Angels will heal.”
Fianna chuckled. “It might take you a while to get used to my world, but you’ll do just fine.”
“I hope so.” He would have to adapt, and quickly.
Acielon desperately needed a new home. He had lost everything he knew. He faced mortality, helplessness. Nothing could be worse, except death.
Yet, he had found a new interest in life with Fianna. Even if he were to die tomorrow, he would not change a thing.
Was his newfound courage to defy the Archons the result of his love for her? Or was he the prophesied liberator the Archons dreaded? And if he were, how could he fulfill his destiny in exile, far from Azura?
Free will proved more difficult than he anticipated. He’d followed his heart and chosen Fianna, but what if his duties lay on his home planet?
Chapter Twelve
Tarkan chuckled and turned his back to the recorder monitoring his cell, so no one on the bridge could see his lips. He’d seen Fianna cut his sound feed after his last rant. He smiled at how easily he could manipulate her. She was so predictable.
“Computer, this is your captain. Open cell door 103.”
“Voice access not authorized.”
“Damn!” Tarkan shook his head. The little minx had already revoked his access codes... but she did not know everything about this ship... his ship. Even without a console, and his voice command rescinded, he had other ways to gain access.
He lay on his back, hands under his head and stared at the sterile white ceiling. Good thing he had perfect hearing and perfect pitch. Closing his eyes to hear better, he whistled a short musical phrase.
A slightly different tune answered from the overhead speakers. Whoever said music was a language probably did not foresee all its applications.
“Musical alien friend, access code recognized,” the female computer voice chimed. “Please state your request.”
Good. Tarkan couldn’t take the risk of his voice being identified and blocked, so he whistled another pre-arranged musical phrase destined to convey his specific order.
The computer whistled back.
The clear titanium pane rose slowly, its hydraulic gear whooshing smoothly as it lifted the heavy load. Tarkan ducked under the rising pane. He must hurry. If Fianna watched the bridge monitors, she might discover his escape anytime. Tarkan wanted the element of surprise.
But first, he needed weapons, and the armory was right around the corner.
As Tarkan followed the corridor, he flattened himself against the curved bulkhead to avoid the security feeds wherever possible. The numerical lock on the armory hatch was not linked to the main frame, to allow access if the electronic brain was compromised, or if the ship fell into enemy hands.
He punched the manual code and the hatch opened upon shelves and racks of blasters, a variety of grenades, hand guns, and assault rifles. Since their electronic parts were encased in gel, they should be fully charged and operational.
He smiled at the mother lode. “Perfect.”
Tarkan quickly selected two hand blasters, pried off and discarded their gel casing then tucked the guns into his belt. He snatched a dagger and a machete for good measure. He also picked up a larger blaster and slung it over his shoulder. He grabbed a few gas grenades and a breathing mask. He didn’t want to damage his ship with an explosion.
He would have to kill the winged monkey first. He could not trust his freaky abilities.
The head of the large feline flashed upon his mind. The animal’s lethal strength, speed, and agility might present a problem. The thing had proved impossible to kill on the planet, but as a biological entity, the animal needed to breathe. He hoped the gas would neutralize the cat as well.
He would have to lock the feline in a sturdy storage space or a cell. It was too valuable to kill. But last he checked, cats could not open hatches or claw their way through reinforced titanium.
Then he would take his time with Fianna.
* * *
On the command deck, Fianna glanced up at the monitors and flinched at a pinch in her chest. “Tarkan is not in his cell!”
“What?” Acielon joined her to check the monitor. “How did he escape?”
Shiny metal balls rolled quietly on the rubbery deck.
Sheba raised her head, ears up, and leapt to the deck.
Fianna’s heart beat faster. “Grenades! Get down!”
She ducked behind a console, but no explosion followed. Instead, the whoosh of escaping gas made her stomach sink. “Gas grenades. Hold your breath!”
A thick cloud of yellow smoke filled the bridge. Her eyes stung and watered, blurring her vision. She couldn’t see anything through the thick fog. This was bad. Very bad. No breathing mask close at hand. Nowhere to run. A sinister black figure in a breathing mask blocked the exit, aiming a blaster at her.
Triblets! Fianna threw a knife into the thickening fog. It stabbed the bulkhead with a thump. She threw another. It clattered on a metal beam. She held her breath until her chest threatened to explode... to no avail. She had to breathe eventually. She choked and coughed. Her sluggish legs collapsed under her. She could barely move.
Sheba crawled toward her, also affected by the paralyzing gas. “Sheba dizzy.”
Tarkan emerged from the yellow fog and aimed a large blaster at something or someone. A loud shot rang. Maximum blast by the sound of it. A kill shot.
A heavy body hit the deck. Acielon!
“No!” Fianna’s cry was a mere whimper. Not Acielon.
Sheba laid her head on Fianna’s thigh. “Sheba protect.”
“Yes, baby girl.” Fianna coughed and cleared her voice. “Computer,” she only whispered. “Eliminate intruder on the bridge.”
“Unable to comply, Captain. Override in effect.”
Fianna heard Tarkan’s muffled laugh through his breathing mask.
She struggled to reach for another throwing knife at her belt, and aimed in the direction of the laugh. But her paralyzed fingers refused to obey her, and the blade dropped from her hand and thumped to the soft decking.
The blaster fired again, not as loud. A burning jolt hit Fianna’s shoulder. She cried out from the wrenching pain.
Tarkan chuckled then whistled a strange tune.
“Sheba... not... like... whistling.”
The ship’s drive fell silent. Had the Silver Angel stopped? Fianna leaned against the foot of the console. Her lungs burned. She reeled in and out of consciousness. Her shoulder looked as if a predator had taken a bite of it. Ripped flesh and tendons revealed white bone.
The ship banked. She cried out as her shoulder screamed with the pain of the shift.
Through the yellow fog she saw Acielon’s inert bod
y slide and collide into a console. Hard. He had no wings. He’d lost his luminous aura. Triblets!
Keeping his blaster aimed on Fianna, Tarkan whistled and let his fingers fly upon the main console. A strong vacuum swallowed the gas and cleared the bridge. Fianna could see Acielon, inert, unresponsive. He looked dead. The thought stopped her heart for an instant. She struggled to breathe.
Tarkan removed his mask, eying the groggy cat.
The big cat attempted to rise on four stiff legs but fell back down. “Sheba protect.”
From the overhead security blasters, a strong magnetic charge sizzled and hit Sheba, surrounding her in a blinding magnetic ball of lightning. Sheba writhed in mid air then collapsed heavily, stunned or unconscious. Could the sonovabitch have killed her cat? First Acielon, then Sheba?
Fianna wanted to scream but couldn’t. The pain in her shoulder flared like a red poker stirred inside. If only she could draw strength from the pain... but the paralysis gained on her. Still, she used the pain to help her focus and remain awake.
“For your information, I’m changing course and alerting some friends of my imminent arrival.” Tarkan punched the start, and the drive purred again... toward a new destination.
Fianna struggled to remain conscious and keep her eyes open. The blaster burn ate at the flesh and bone of her shoulder. Could she reach the small blade she’d dropped on the floor? Her hand could barely move, even less throw.
Tarkan ignored her as he grabbed one of Sheba’s legs and pulled. To no avail.
Good luck dragging away the cat. This was no ordinary puma. She weighed half a ton. Fianna would have laughed if she had the energy. Instead, she sighed a pitiful moan.
Tarkan rose and punched a few more keys on the command console.
Maintenance robots on caterpillar wheels rushed onto the command deck. They clamped onto Sheba’s front legs and wheeled their chenille wheels out of the bridge.
Triblets!
Tarkan laughed. “Don’t worry, Monalisa. I did not kill your cat, it’s too valuable. But until you cooperate, it will remain in a safe place.”
Fianna glanced up at the monitors and saw the robots dragging Sheba inside Tarkan’s vacated cell.
Tarkan shoved Fianna roughly on her stomach. She cried out with the pain in her shoulder. Fianna seethed but could not resist. Then he cuffed her and secured the cuffs to the foot of the console.
“There.” Tarkan rose. “Now, you need to cooperate if you want to live.”
“I will never team up with you,” Fianna managed through the pain.
“I will keep asking until you change your mind.”
The maintenance robots returned from the brig.
Tarkan swiped a few keys on the command console.
“What are you doing?”
Tarkan laughed. “I ordered the robots to jettison this winged monkey’s body out of the closest airlock.”
“No!” Fianna couldn’t stand the idea of Acielon floating in cold black space. He looked dead, but he couldn’t be. He was immortal. Yet he’d mentioned losing his abilities and his immortality upon leaving Azura’s influence. Her mind reeled, as if she were falling into a deep black well.
The robots approached Acielon, clamped upon both his bare ankles, and dragged him off the bridge. His head bumped along the ridges of the soft decking. His arms dragged behind him like those of a beautiful rag doll.
Acielon was truly dead.
Fianna shuddered. A pit opened inside her chest, threatening to swallow her whole. She was all alone again, hurt, and restrained, much like she was a long time ago, when Tarkan bought her from the slavers.
“Come on, Monalisa.” Tarkan offered an oily smile. “The winged monkey was a freak, and way too vanilla for you. You wouldn’t have lasted a week with him, anyway.”
Fianna pulled on her restraints... to no avail. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. You secretly love me. You know, you still have a place in my heart. We understand each other and we make a great team.”
Fianna’s heart sank. For the first time in many years, she felt trapped, but she wasn’t a scared, helpless youth anymore. She could bide her time. Unfortunately, for Acielon time had ran out. The pain of his loss clenched her throat, and tears welled in her eyes.
* * *
The pull of mechanized hands on his ankles made Acielon’s entire body reel with pain. Pain? A hole in his flank exposed his insides. Each turn of the clickety caterpillar wheels stretched his limbs as the maintenance robots dragged him along the corridors of the Silver Angel. He wanted to protest and escape, but his lips did not move and his throat made no sound. His body refused to obey him.
His mind swam in a maelstrom of hurt and the lure of oblivion tempted him. It would be easy to close his eyes and give up... return to the great void. Death did not seem so terrible up close... better than this unbearable suffering.
Were the maintenance machines taking him to a cell? He did not recognize that particular corridor, grey and rough compared to the rest of the ship. He struggled to remember the maintenance manuals he’d read on Azura, among the books retrieved from the wreckage of old ships.
The lights seemed subdued here and his head bounced on a hard metal floor. His eyes strained to focus on the signs hanging from the ceiling. Airlock! The realization of where he was dawned on him. He may not be dead, but he soon would be.
He wished he could concentrate but the pain dulled his abilities. He had no strength, physical or otherwise. The small machines stopped in front of a clear titanium door marked airlock 2. One robot inserted a rod into a port and the clear door to the small bay slid open with a whoosh.
Acielon could not let the small machines eject him into space. He could not leave Fianna alone with this twisted man. He must protect her. He must... but his body refused to move even a finger.
The robots dragged him onto the floor of the small bay between the double doors. The gray metal door beyond, with its rectangular port, afforded a view of the ominous black void. Soon that very door would open, and black space would swallow him.
The maintenance robots released his ankles and wheeled themselves back to the corridor, but Acielon still could not move.
He could not let the clear titanium door close and seal him out. He must act fast, but his body remained paralyzed. He closed his eyes and urged his mind to focus. For Fianna, to save her from the clutches of Tarkan, he must survive.
As one of the robots punched the code to shut the titanium glass pane, Acielon recalled his wandering mind and force it to concentrate upon the Sacred Crystal. Through the pain, clarity returned to him. He could do this. The clear doors slid close, then shook and shattered in thousands of shards tinkling like so many temple chimes.
Sharp projectiles landed on Acielon and all around him. A few lodged in his arm and flank. He ignored the pain and focused on the maintenance robots. Using his mind, he drained the machines of power. They stopped their clicking and now stood silent, inert, like forgotten toys strewn across the corridor.
Visual alarms blinked around the airlock bay. Warnings flashed but the corridor remained quiet. Good.
Thanks to the crystal restoring his mind power, Acielon had escaped certain death. Now he must convince his body to use his regenerative abilities, if he had any left. According to the Archons, he would become a simple human soon after leaving the influence of Azura. But how soon?
Gathering his flailing strength, he willed his body to roll across the floor littered with clear titanium shards. A small victory cry escaped him when he reached the corridor.
He hoped Tarkan was not watching the security feeds. Even with the element of surprise, it would take all his energy and a miracle to rescue Fianna.
Gingerly, Acielon rose to his leaden feet. Leaning on the bulkhead, he inched his way along the corridors. No matter the struggle and the harrowing pain, he must return to the command bridge and save Fianna from Tarkan’s evil grasp.
* * *
The cryst
al on her chest made Fianna’s entire body tingle. It seemed to dull the pain. From the corner of her eye, she caught a moving shadow at the entrance to the command deck. She held her breath.
Acielon looked terrible, and singed. He held his side and could barely stand, but he was alive! He brought a finger to his lips. Fianna contained her joy at his return. From the strength of the jolt he’d received, even the strongest alien would have died.
She motioned with her chin to the restraints chaining her to the console. Acielon nodded. He closed his eyes and a small click alerted Fianna that the lock on her wrists had opened. Wow! These powers of his came handy.
The crystal on her chest must have sped her recovery. She could move again, but she must not let Tarkan see her physical improvement. Fianna nodded to Acielon she was ready.
Tarkan bent over the command console, oblivious to his prisoner.
The ship suddenly jerked. Fianna grabbed the foot of the console. Tarkan lost his balance. Then he floated up and turned upside down, as if suspended to the ceiling by his feet.
Metal stars, blades, and blasters dropped from Tarkan’s vest and belt. Tarkan struggled in mid air, but he did not seem able to coordinate his movements. Upon Acielon’s nod, Fianna shoved herself to her feet. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she stumbled toward Tarkan and clamped the handcuffs upon his wrists. “Nothing like old-fashion restraints.”
Tarkan seemed unable to speak, his face congested as he struggled to breathe.
“Let him go,” she told Acielon. “I got him.”
Tarkan fell to the floor. Fianna produced another set of restraints and cuffed Tarkan’s feet. He did not even struggle. Then she reached for the medical kit and extracted a piece of tape she stuck to his mouth. “Try to whistle, now.”
She glanced up at Acielon and her victorious smile fell. She’d never seen him so ragged. “You saved my life... again. This is becoming a bad habit.”
Acielon’s grin was almost a grimace. He was in terrible pain. “Let me take this mad dog back to his cell.”
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