“They’re on the move.” Jaron reported as the two finished their conversation and The Collector turned away, snapping out commands. Jaron’s breath sped up at the thought of letting him escape. For many reasons and not just because the doctor was into brutal torture. He wanted him because the man had attempted to kill the Chosen of his fellow team leader, Kyele.
“Stand down, Jaron.” Torkel again.
Jaron aimed his laser sniper rifle at the good doctor’s head. “I have a clear shot.”
Torkel exhaled harshly “The Jutak council wants him alive. I repeat, we take them both alive if possible.”
More men burst from the shuttle Lothar had arrived in. Jaron bit off a foul word. Everything had just changed. This was going to blow up in their faces. “Target count has increased. More Marenians have exited the shuttle. Where are Geile and Gregir?”
“Join you in ten,” Geile said.
Someone yelled. The woman? No, the man. He tugged hard on her leash and pivoted to run. What was going on down there? Jaron wished he could hear the exchange. Lips flat, he tried to pinpoint why he suddenly wanted to scream a warning. “Tor—”
Laser fire blasted, cutting him off. The man holding the leash fell to the ground and the others scattered. The Marenians with Lothar fired more shots at Dr. Kirkem and his guards. Screams rang out, a blend of his team and the far-off shouts from those running below.
“What’s going on, Jaron? Lothar’s shuttle sent out an electronic scrambler. Sensors are down. We’re blind here.” Arak’s panic broke through the commotion going on below.
Deciding it worth the risk, Jaron took a shot at The Collector. At the last minute, the wily bastard ducked as if he knew he was being targeted. Jaron missed by a sliver, but the resulting whine of his weapon caused further chaos to erupt. Stares turned in his direction followed by several blasts.
Jaron leaped to his feet and dove over the mound he’d used as cover. “I think Lothar planned to betray The Collector. It’s not looking pretty as everyone’s firing at everyone down there.”
“We need to pull back.” Arak’s suggestion left a sour pit in Jaron’s belly.
They’d lose their chance to get Lothar. Not on his watch. “Pursuing original target.”
“No! Jaron, wait!’
Jaron muted the comm in his ear and ran faster toward the airstrip, body hunched low. Below, The Collector raced for his hover-car, yelling over his shoulder at his two remaining guards. Bodies littered the ground. Jaron’s thighs burned and sweat trickled down his spine. He would not let him get away.
As if undisturbed by the uproar, Lothar looked around at the mayhem. One of his men shouted and the leader finally bent at the waist and sped toward the shuttle. Torn between which man to pursue, Jaron veered at the last minute toward Lothar. Engines roared to life and lights lit in a seamless pattern along the sides of the shuttle, there bright glow blinding Jaron for a second.
He covered his face in his elbow and slid on his special visors. When Jaron dropped his arm, his vision cleared thanks to the high tech. The tall Marenian paused before going up the ramp and turned unerringly in his direction.
Lips twisted in a cruel slant, Lothar increased his pace and ducked between the closing doors. Before they shut, he faced Jaron and lifted his hand in a taunting salute. Then the metal slammed together, blocking him from view.
“Jaron, report!” Geile shouted in his ear.
Gregir chimed in. “Torkel, Lothar’s getting away. Direction?”
“Jaron, can you stop the shuttle?” Torkel snapped out the question, making no effort to hide his anger.
Jaron skidded to a halt and raised his laser to get off a few blasts as the craft lifted into the air, stirring red dust on the ground. To his dismay, the shielding was up and his shots had no impact. With a low whine, the shuttle zoomed off, disappearing from view and taking the man they wanted with it.
Two guards left behind stood arms akimbo, but no one seemed to pay them any attention. Jaron debated his next action. He looked for The Collector. The hover-car remained in place, but the good doctor wasn’t to be seen. Neither was the unknown woman. They’d lost Lothar, but The Collector would still make a viable prisoner.
“Geile and Gregir cease support actions. Abort the mission, Jaron and return to Arak and Team One. I want a complete report on how this turned into such a mess.”
For one dark moment, Jaron considered refusing the order. Somewhere down there The Collector hid. If he found him, this wouldn’t be a total waste.
At the thought, Jaron froze. He was too close to this mission and his judgment was impaired. He wanted Lothar as bad as the others for all the Marenian had done, but protocol needed to be followed.
“Acknowledged. Returning to shuttle landing zone for pick up.”
“We are heading back. Arrival less than two minutes,” Geile and Gregir said together.
“Scanners detect enemy vessels approaching. They’re of Marenian design.”
“Fuck!” Jaron ran harder at this news from Davar. What was going on? Had Lothar planned to attack Dr. Kirkem or had Dr. Kirkem planned to attack Lothar.
“Step it up, Jaron.” Arak’s growl rasped over the comm.
“On it.” Adrenaline surged and Jaron powered forth, the distance seeming unusually longer than it had taken him to get to his location.
“Evasive maneuvers needed in less than five. Sensors pick up advanced weapons systems on two of the three vessels.” Back on the shuttle, Gregir worked with the pilot, his skills as a sniper and pilot might be necessary.
“Only waiting for you, Jaron. Where are you?”
Jaron paused to confirm his location for Arak. Still a ways out. “Can you defend until I get there?”
“Negative,” Davar snapped.
“Is Lothar’s shuttle gone?” Urgency laced Torkel’s tone.
Gregir cursed. “Confirmed. Original target gone.”
“Jaron, how close are you?”
He wanted to answer his Unit Leader, but right now breathing took priority and his lungs burned as he raced over the open field, dirt kicking up from his boots. Then Jaron crested the rise and their shuttle hovered above the ground, rising for take off. “I have visual.”
“Get your ass on that shuttle!” Torkel’s anger blasted him.
“My thoughts too, Torkel.” Jaron infused the comment with humor, while his heart beat like a drum against his chest.
The shuttle doors slid open as soon as the pilot must have spotted him. Jaron panted, preparing to close the ever-increasing distance. He’d have to jump so he kept up his momentum and leaped the last few feet, grasping the edge of the rim on the running boards. Hands reached down to lock onto one of his wrists as they took off with a burst of power from the engines.
Jaron tossed his laser across the floor and it flew under the seat with a clatter.
“Hang on,” Geile yelled, leaning far over on his stomach as he grabbed Jaron’s wildly swinging other arm.
Air rushed over him, his eyes tearing up from the pressure. Laser fire zinged behind him and one of his legs slammed into a rail. “Fuck!”
“Pull him up, pull him up!” Arak snarled.
The skin on his bare wrists burned. Jaron met Geile’s gaze as his teammate’s grip slipped. He wasn’t going to make it. At this rate, his friends were at risk. Jaron parted his lips to speak.
“Fuck, no!” Geile snapped, his blue eyes lit with a fierce light.
More lasers. A burning flare of pain cut across his lower left leg. Jaron swallowed. This was a risk they all faced when going out. But he refused to take his team down with him. As Team Leader he had to make the tough call.
“We have to close the door. Get him in here, Geile!”
Jaron’s gaze shifted to behind Geile. Arak, Davar and Gregir fought with their safety harnesses, trying to get free to help. They’d have to override the locking system or the pilot.
“Get a safety line on him,” Arak roared.
Geile lost his
hold on one wrist and Jaron’s lower half banged into the side of the shuttle again. Pain ricocheted through his hips and groin.
“I can’t! If I reach for it, I’ll lose him.”
The black cord dangled only a few feet away neatly coiled on the rack to the side of the door. Pain again ripped through Jaron’s torso. Something popped at his right shoulder and still the shuttle rose. This wasn’t going to work.
Then the inevitable happened.
“I’m hit!” Geile shouted and pressed his free hand to his straining arm. A large wet stain spread over the black material of his shirt, but he tightened his remaining hold on Jaron, the torment evident on his face.
Jaron met Geile’s gaze. “Let go.”
His friend’s expression ranged from remorse to regret then anger. “Fuck you, no, Jaron.”
Wind whipped his lower half, battering his body against the side of the shuttle. Jaron swallowed. “I’ll be fine.”
He forced himself to smile. It wasn’t that he wasn’t afraid. He’d be foolish not to be. But he had a job to do and an obligation to protect his men if possible.
“Don’t let him go, Geile. Don’t you let him go, damn it!” The words were intermixed with snarls.
Jaron wanted to reassure Arak, but time dwindled. If the shuttle lifted any higher, he might not survive the fall. He had to let go now.
“Enemy lock! Enemy lock!” The pilot yelled over the ship’s wall mounted comm. “Shields can’t go up with the door open.”
Defenseless, the shuttle wouldn’t last under heavy fire. No way he wanted to chance everyone’s life. Having said what he needed, Jaron pulled hard on his hand, fingers growing slack from Geile’s as he let himself fall backward.
“Nooo!” Arak used his claws to slice through the harness and dove across the floor. Their eyes met. Fingers touched and missed. Arak snarled and the tip of one claw sliced across Jaron’s open palm.
Free of obstacles, the door slid closed. The shuttle’s thrusters engaged full force as it surged away. The Marenian ships gave chase. Jaron fell the few feet to the ground, his back jarring as he landed. Breath froze and his lungs seized. He ached all over. No time to focus on the pain. Get up, get up. Have to get up.
Pushing up on to his hands, he gritted his teeth against the wrenching agony from his busted shoulder. He shoved to his knees and fire raced down his right side. Shoulder dislocated. Laser burn to upper thigh. Another curse slipped past his lips, but Jaron dug his booted heels in and rose unsteadily to his feet. He’d been in worse spots before. A temporary hiding place would do and he’d wait for his team to return for him. Likely, Torkel would send another team from the Unit whether it was safe or not.
“Well, well, well. What do we have?” The question dripped with unmistakable pleasure.
Jaron turned, but his leg buckled, dropping him to one knee. Standing over him was none other than The Collector. Empty brown eyes glittered down into his. His heart sped up. “Dr. Kirkem.”
“Jutak warrior.” The Collector stepped on his comm laying on the ground, which crackled and crunched beneath his boot. The now destroyed device was his only contact with his team.
Jaron let a sneer play about his mouth. He still had his tracker on his collar. “That won’t stop my Unit Leader.”
“Then he can join my collection too. I’m not feeling overly fond of Marenians right now.” A smug grin twisted the narrow lips. “For obvious reasons.”
Chapter 3
“Strip.”
Sasha’s heart gave a vicious thump before settling. The command was uttered in a cold neutral tone from one of the uniformed guards surrounding the prisoners. The lack of emotion concerned her. Emotions could be manipulated, twisted by anger one could provide an opening.
None of that was possible yet. Helmets preserved their identity. She removed her jumper without protest, then her underwear. Some of her co-prisoners whined and sniffled as they slowly undressed.
A group of shivering males came out of a cleansing unit escorted by two heavily armed guards. The matte helmets obscured their identity as well not that it mattered. They paid little heed to any of them, treating everyone like chattel.
Once those in her group were naked, a gray clad guard gestured forward. Sasha and the females hobbling beside her walked toward an open door and the steam whistling out. Their feet slapped against wet tile as they moved forward en mass. The pungent scent of sanitizer filled the air along with the bitter bite of fear.
Sasha understood fear. It helped keep you on edge in bad situations. This was a really bad situation. She glanced around the blue and white space, the open stalls offering no pretense of privacy. She’d been in bad situations a time or two.
As soon as they were all inside the cleansing room, misters in the ceiling flickered to life and doused them in cleanser. Terrorized gazes darted continually to the helmeted guard, who stood at attention by the only exit from the room, with a laser directly aimed their way.
Ignoring him, Sasha used the opportunity to wipe off dried sweat and grime from her fight with Orland and his accomplice. As a shifter, nudity didn’t bother her, but the five other women tried to hide themselves while using the sanitizer. She wanted to be prepared if an opportunity presented itself and that meant maintaining the appearance of going along with whatever this was.
None of them knew what to expect since disembarking from the ship which had brought them here. Wherever here was.
Within minutes, hot water from above doused them. Shrieks from the others pierced her ears. Sasha hissed, slicking back her hair and controlling the urge to launch for the doorway just to get away from the screaming women. Unfortunately, her dash would look like an ill-advised escape attempt. She rinsed off as fast as possible and waited when she finished, her gaze staying on the unmoving guard.
Once done, they were all herded in a single line back to a grouping of cages strategically placed in a perfect square. The position enabled them to face one another at any given time. Some of the males decided to make a run for it and were promptly hit with shock sticks. The blonde female standing next to Sasha whimpered.
Two more gray clad guards entered and pushed and tugged the unconscious men until they ended up in the individual cages anyway. Sasha held still, watching it all. A brave green skinned female lashed out with her tail and ran, her aim the closed door they’d come through.
The guards didn’t even step aside. They waited and as soon as she was in range they stunned her. Others gasped and in the same void voice, one of the guards spoke. “It is futile to attempt to leave. Enter the cage of your designation.”
Sasha inspected the cells closer. It wasn’t hard to make out the single word in digital display. Argoran.
Feraki.
The bars clanked behind her as soon as she was inside. The sound repeated as fifteen others accepted their spots. When the guards exited, sudden silence echoed around.
Sasha paced the small confines. What had Orland gotten her into?
***
3 days later
Time moved at a different speed here and with no way of tracking, Sasha had no idea how long she’d been held. All she’d managed to gather so far was that she was in a research facility of some sort and even that was questionable.
Workers in white jumpsuits came in to observe. Sometimes one of her fellow prisoners were dragged out from the cell. If they fought, they were stunned and carried away. All came back slumped over a guard’s shoulder and thrown to the floor unconscious.
At other times, Sasha watched prisoners escorted out only to return in worse condition. A Chamele with large sections of his skin peeled from his chest quivered in a corner, a Serpine with exposed genitals where the protective groin slit had been torn and countless other atrocities. More and more their numbers dwindled. Another check around and Sasha realized only five remained of the original fifteen. Four women, one man and herself.
No one touched Sasha. Yet. If a gaze turned in her direction, her lips curled in a tigh
t snarl and she flashed her claws to show she wouldn’t be easy prey. It worked for now, but Sasha knew her time approached. She just wished she knew what went on beyond these walls. Asking questions didn’t help.
The one time a prisoner attempted a conversation with her, one of the guards rushed in and hit him with a shock stick. The alien had fallen to the floor convulsing and crying out.
No one talked after that.
Last night, at least she assumed it was night, one of the women in the cage next to her left with a guard, but didn’t come back. That hadn’t happened in a while. Usually they returned. Broken and battered, but they returned.
Worry set in at this change in pattern. Sasha ramped up her pace until she almost jogged in her tiny space, feeling the burn of unused muscles flexing. A thin line of sweat ran down the side of her face and air puffed from her lips. Slowing down to a walk, she shook her arms out at her sides. No need exhausting herself.
The door to their area slammed open, causing the others to cringe. Sasha gripped the solid bars of her cage to get a better view. Two uniformed guards struggled on the way in due to the weight of the tall man they dragged between them. Each held an arm propped over their shoulders and the blond male’s legs slid across the floor behind them. With his head slumped down, she couldn’t see his face, but the rest of the view offered a prime slice of his nude body.
As they drew closer and headed for the newly emptied cage beside hers, the familiar scent of the cleanser wafted from him. One guard tapped out the code on the gate then the scanner. The bars swung open as they tossed him in without a care. She winced as his head thumped twice on the floor.
For the first time since her imprisonment, one of them spoke directly to her. “We brought you a new neighbor.”
Flashing her sharp teeth and claws sent him scurrying backward much to his partner’s vocal amusement. From the center of her cage, Sasha gave him a deadly glare and throttled back her growl. Standing up to them could very well be the only reason no one risked letting her out of her cage. As far as she was concerned, this was the safest place to be because someone on the other side of these doors conducted very ugly experiments and she didn’t want to be a part of it.
Jaron's Promise (A World Beyond Book 6) Page 3
