Angel Mine

by Vijaya Schartz

  “All right.” Fianna’s heart beat so fast. She stepped up to him and hugged him. He laughed but flinched with the pain. So did Fianna.

  She released her hold on him but remained close. Such a wonderful man. Maybe they had a future together after all. “Let me get the ship back on course, then we’ll have to take care of our wounds.”

  Acielon nodded and smiled. “I will enjoy floating him upside down to the cell where he belongs.”

  “You better chain him to the bulkhead, this time.” Fianna scoffed. “And tell Sheba to keep an eye on him, and kill him if he makes any suspicious move.”

  “I will.” Acielon looked into her eyes with such longing...

  When he lowered his face for a kiss, Fianna met him half way. Their lips met in a tingle of delightful sensations. Fianna realized how much he meant to her. He had cheated death to save her. Their kiss lingered.

  Then Acielon stepped back. “You need to regain control of the ship. The crystal can help you.”

  She let him go reluctantly. “Okay.”

  Tarkan floated upside down in mid air out of the command deck. Acielon followed him.

  Fianna liked the idea of working with Acielon as a team. “Hurry back.”

  Acielon glanced back, his turquoise gaze full of promise. “I will.”

  Fianna hobbled to the control console, holding her left arm, flinching with each step. She had no idea how the crystal could control hardware. She held the pendant in her hand and focused upon it. “Computer, this is your legitimate captain, Fianna Grosvenor.”

  “Set your hands on the console for recognition protocol,” the computer chimed.

  Fianna obliged. Laser lights scanned her hands and her entire body.

  “Verifying identity... identity verified.”

  Fianna sighed with relief. “Override previous commands, delete previous headings and all other access codes, no matter who set them up or when.”

  “Aye, aye, captain.”

  The engines stopped. The ship lurched. Fianna punched the coordinates for Byzantium-5 into the drive.

  “Recalculating trajectory.”

  The Silver Angel banked as it veered. The drives hummed again and it zipped toward their original destination. The Byzantium-5 space station.

  It would take hours to get there. Fianna needed medical attention.

  Acielon returned, still weak and very pale.

  “Let’s go to the infirmary.”

  “I have a better idea.” Acielon’s smile looked strained. “Let us go to bed.”

  Fianna chuckled despite the pain. “I’m in no condition...”

  “The Sacred Crystal embedded in the bulkhead will heal us as we sleep.”

  Although she’d preferred good old surgical methods, Fianna relished the idea of sleeping next to Acielon, surrounded by the energy of the crystal.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Acielon marveled at Fianna’s smooth skin, the soft angle of her neck as she focused on the console. She looked fragile, yet she was so strong. No trace of her nasty shoulder wound remained. She had healed quite nicely, almost as fast as he had. Did the crystal also enhance her radiance?

  She glanced up at him from the control seat. “We are approaching Byzantium-5.”

  His chest tingled at the prospect of discovering a different culture, meeting Fianna’s people. He focused on the quickly growing star, on the black horizon. “I shall finally see this wild, wicked world I read so much about.”

  Fianna chuckled. “It’s worse than you imagine. We shouldn’t tell anyone about Azura. Knowledge of the crystal would unleash a horde of greedy hounds.” She tucked her crystal pendant inside her vest, between her lovely breasts. “I’m not talking about criminals like Tarkan, but galactic corporations and the Trade Alliance.”

  “It could start a galactic war.” Acielon sighed. He found the very notion of war disturbing. “Any loss of life among the Azurans could overthrow the balance of good and evil in the universe.”

  “Really?” Fianna cocked a brow at him. “The Azurans think rather highly of themselves, don’t they?” She shook her head. “The traders would plunder Azura and destroy the planet in the process. They would sell the crystal to power ships and weapons.”

  “Not likely.” Acielon smiled.

  She frowned. “Why are you smiling?”

  “The Sacred Crystal speaks to me.” Acielon paused, waiting for a reaction.

  She just stared at him, waiting.

  “I believe the crystal has a will of its own... and it shared knowledge with me on several occasions since Tarkan’s attack.”

  Fianna drummed slender fingers on her console. “Okay. I’ll bite. What do you know that I don’t?”

  “Azura is quite capable of taking care of itself. If a single chunk of crystal is a formidable source of power, a large hoard in the hull of a ship would destroy that ship before it could escape the planet’s gravitational pull.”

  “Good to know.” Fianna shrugged. “Still, secrecy is the best policy. Greed is stronger than any warning. Leave it to the Trade Alliance to figure out how much is too much in a cargo hold, and organize an entire armada of small vessels to carry away the crystal one piece at a time.”

  “I agree on the secrecy. But you must know that Azurans do not lie. They can, however, remain silent.”

  Movement on a screen caught his attention. Tarkan! The big man in the brig squirmed against his restraints. Acielon’s heart beat faster. But Sheba, in Tarkan’s cell, faced the prisoner and growled. Tarkan stopped struggling. Acielon released the breath he’d been holding and returned his attention to the space station beyond the clear pane.

  Other vessels materialized in the vicinity or approached the station at low speed. He stared in amazement at the bright, irregular sphere growing in size as they drew near. The thick jumble of metal beams, shiny domes, cylinders and enormous cubes floated in black space like a giant 3D puzzle of interconnected parts.

  Byzantium-5 looked like a spherical clutter of assorted containers surrounded by rows of wide tubular crowns, like rings around a planet, connected to the core by giant pipes, like the spokes of a wheel. Much more impressive than the pictures of other stations he’d seen in Azura’s library.

  “Silver Angel on approach. Law enforcer Fianna Grosvenor at the helm. I have a level-9 fugitive in custody. Requesting permission to dock, and full security team to escort my quarry to the penitentiary.” Fianna’s fingers danced swiftly over the console. “Sending verification codes now.”

  A jolly old man, bald, in a black jacket with insignias on his chest, filled a side screen with a toothy smile. “Welcome back to Byzantium-5, Officer Grosvenor. Congratulations on apprehending that scumbag.” He consulted a tablet in his hands. “Dock-54 is vacant and closest to security headquarters. I will clear the public areas along your route, to avoid any incident during prisoner transfer.”

  “Thanks.” Fianna smiled. “You better be ready. Don’t send any greenhorns. Tarkan is a slippery sort. He escaped many times before.”

  “I hear you, Officer Grosvenor. Seasoned team only.” The port manager smiled back and dimples creased his cheeks.

  The image vanished and the screen filled with scrolling lines of code, too fast for anyone to read. Strange world.

  The Silver Angel veered. As it banked around the wide rings toward its assigned dock, the scale of the structure became more evident. Acielon had never seen such formidable construction... the size of a moon. He held his breath, taking in the sight. He had read about space stations and seen pictures, but he’d never thought about the scale. He could not imagine the amount of work it would take to build. “It’s much larger than I imagined. Is it all inhabited?”

  Hands and eyes on the console, Fianna nodded. “As far as space stations go, this is not the largest. Still, five million souls live here, and over a million tourists and business passengers come in and out of the station each day.”

  “Millions?” Acielon could not imagine that many people. A
zura’s population barely exceeded a few thousand.

  Red and yellow lights blinked along the docks, and bright beams scanned the loading areas and their surrounding black space. Ships of all sizes and shapes hung by clamps to the outer rim of the rings.

  Although familiar with many vessels from studying the wrecks of Azura and their archives, Acielon marveled at the variety of ship designs. Some slick and shiny, like the Silver Angel, others black and matte like the Monalisa, boxy, round and smooth, or bristling with sharp spires.

  “Wow! Look at this one.” Acielon pointed at the ship. “It fluctuates in color and shape then vanishes to reappear instantly.”

  “Cloaking device. It can mimic any ship.” Fianna volunteered from her chair. She looked so calm and comfortable. “A useful device for smugglers and people who travel incognito.” She chuckled. “We have one of those on this ship, too.”

  “We do?” Acielon had so much to learn about Fianna’s world. “Are you happy to be back home?”

  Fianna shook her head. “This is where I was raised, but it’s not really my home. Home is with the people you love.”

  “Your brother is here. You love him, right?”

  “Yes, but I feel most at home in space, on a ship.” She smiled. “And since I met you, anywhere with you feels like home.”

  Acielon’s heart sang. Heat crept up his neck and to his cheeks. “I think this is the miracle of love they speak of in literature.”

  “I guess so.” She gazed up at him and he could see in her eyes all the way to her soul. Then she returned her attention back to piloting.

  Outside the pane, great activity surrounded the docks. Red and yellow barges displayed bold logos with letters and symbols. Long robotic arms loaded and unloaded rectangular containers the size of several houses, in and out of the open maws of enormous cargo ships.

  As the Silver Angel cruised along the bay windows lining the passenger docks, sentient beings walked inside, some on many legs or tentacles. Most of them guided floating pallets loaded with metal crates. Others rode in hovering vehicles. Acielon suspected they did not use the same powers of levitation he did.

  The sudden blare of screaming music forced his attention back to the command deck of the Silver Angel. One of the screens lining the bulkheads lit up with bright images of strange people in colorful clothes. They flashed big smiles and looked overly happy. Some had unfocused eyes, as if they’d just seen a holy vision, or eaten fermented berries like the lemurs swinging from vines in the jungle.

  “Welcome to Byzantium-5,” an excited male voice piped over the music. “A place of luxury and decadence, the perfect vacation spot, with its gambling casinos, live entertainment, exotic foods, lake-size swimming pools, and mood enhancing dens. For the single traveler, we also have beautiful escorts, men and women of all species, and a wide variety of cyber-pleasures... including those strictly forbidden in real life.”

  This sounded like the evil the Archons kept mentioning in their tirades in the temple. “What pleasures? Why forbidden?”

  Eyes on her console, Fianna shook her head. “Don’t worry, it’s all legal and regulated... as long as you remain in the tourist zone. Just don’t venture into the slums. There, it’s a different story. No rules apply. It’s the law of the jungle. Only the fittest survives.”

  “I understand.” Acielon shuddered. To think simple humans faced such dangers without any natural defenses. “One cannot reason with a hungry night-crawler, right?”

  “Exactly.” Fianna glanced his way then returned her attention to piloting the ship. “Except that these monsters look quite benign. So, whatever you do, do not trust or follow anyone, even if they are children and look like they need help. These people lie for a living. Remain in the brightly lit and crowded areas at all times.”

  “I will. But I am not helpless.” How sweet of Fianna to want to protect him. “I can take care of myself.”

  She shook her head. “Only as long as you have your powers.”

  “Which I still have.” Acielon smiled to himself. “I can also read minds. I know when people lie.”

  The ship decelerated then came to a stop. A gentle bump jerked the command deck. The screens showed the docking clamps latching upon the ship’s anchoring clutches with loud metallic knocks.

  Fianna unbuckled her safety belt and rose from her seat. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” Acielon could not wait to see this wondrous place up close.

  Fianna took the lead toward the living quarters. “You better find a shirt and jacket and some shoes. There must be clothes in the closets.”

  “Clothes? But if I wear clothes, I will not be able to deploy my wings.” How could he fly away from danger?

  “It’s better if you don’t show your wings here.” She faced him and encircled his waist.

  Acielon shivered, but not from cold.

  She kissed his chest softly. “It’s a shame to hide such a body, but without a jacket you’ll freeze. The public areas are chilly.”

  Acielon hugged her and inhaled the sweet scent of her short blond hair. When she disengaged, he missed her contact.

  He sighed. “You know best.”

  He’d never experienced cold, only the cool breeze of a tropical night. The temperature on the Silver Angel was comfortable. How bad could the station be? Everything from now on would be a new and exciting experience. He so much wanted to like Fianna’s home.

  * * *

  Fianna glanced right and left as she sat next to Tarkan in the security transport floating smoothly in the motorcade. Bound and gagged, wearing a blindfold, Tarkan finally looked subdued. The wide corridor remained empty of tourists, as the port manager promised.

  Blasters at the ready, male and female security officers stood around them in the open transport, scanning the wide corridor with a blank expression on their faces. More officers stood on the outside steps of the vehicle or hung onto the tubular frame holding the roof. Uniforms also rode along the transport with smaller vehicles, including carts and bikes. A full contingent of twenty-four.

  Even an escape artist like Tarkan knew better than to try anything here. The slightest move would get him killed.

  Fianna breathed easier. She would hate to lose her prisoner so close to claiming the reward. If Tarkan tried anything now, he was worth the same dead or alive... but Acielon would be in the cross-fire.

  Fianna glanced back to Acielon, sitting behind her with Sheba.

  She sent a mental order to the feline. “Protect Acielon.”

  The big cat yawned. “Sheba protect.”

  The puma, quite at ease in her familiar surroundings, displayed her true tan color. Acielon looked regal in his white shirt and light blue jacket. So handsome by human standards. He seemed quite interested in the security team framing them on all sides... probably reading their thoughts. She suppressed an amused smile. A quick way to get an education on human nature.

  The convoy rode through the guarded gate of the security HQ parking garage under the security offices. The team leapt off the vehicle. Fianna stepped out. So did Acielon and Sheba. Then the team pulled Tarkan out of his seat and shoved him roughly toward the elevator.

  Fianna smiled at Acielon. “I must go with them to process the prisoner. Why don’t you and Sheba browse the Forum for a while? I will meet you shortly.” She turned to the puma. “Can you stay with him and protect him, big girl?”

  The cat blinked in agreement. “Sheba protect.”

  “Good girl.” Fianna’s gaze lingered over Acielon. She wanted to hug and kiss him, but not in front of the security team. Any show of affection could make him a target to her enemies. As a bounty hunter, Fianna had many.

  She waved at her two companions and followed the security team inside the large elevator then glanced back at Acielon. She hoped he’d be safe enough with Sheba. As the elevator doors closed, she turned her thoughts to the reward. At last, she could keep her promise to her brother. Maksou would walk again.

  * * *

>   Acielon craned his neck and rolled his shoulders. The silk shirt under the sky-blue jacket tickled his skin. He wiggled his toes inside the soft white boots. He’d never worn anything but flowing white trousers and found the extra clothes restricting. Fianna was right, though. A glacial blast of foul-smelling air blew from the ceiling vents. Unlike the Silver Angel this space station reeked of acrid and swampy odors. Probably the result of so many bodies living in close quarters.

  He turned to Sheba. “Do you know the way to the Forum?”

  The cat licked her paw. “Sheba know.”

  “Then lead the way, kitten.”

  Sheba loped toward another elevator, much smaller. The door opened at their approach and Acielon followed her inside.

  The door closed.

  “State your level,” a female voice chimed overhead.

  “We are going to the Forum,” Acielon announced clearly, thrilled at operating an elevator for the first time.

  “Forum, level five,” chimed the disembodied voice.

  The stifling elevator lurched up then sideways and up again. Sheba braced her paws onto the rubbery floor. Acielon wished he could deploy his wings. Metallic knocking sounds punctuated the ride. The cramped space made him claustrophobic, but he must not show weakness in such a place.

  From what he learned by exploring the minds of the security team, only the strong survived here. Any fear or weakness made you a target and could mean death. Not at all the loving environment of Azura. Yet, Acielon believed everyone and every place must have redeeming qualities... and he must find them in order to fit in Fianna’s world.

  The door opened, the voice chimed, “Forum, level Five.”

  Sheba stepped out of the elevator and Acielon followed her into a vast pedestrian square. He had never seen so many people crammed together. Although they gave Sheba a wide berth, he could not suppress a need for more breathing room. Fortunately, his tall stature allowed him a wide view over a thousand heads.