by Leslie Chase
"I think someone would," Zardan said thoughtfully. "They weren't trying to kill you with that bomb, after all. They were trying to make the farm uninhabitable by blowing up your air recycler. Their ship would have been right there to offer assistance. Presumably they wanted salvage rights or something?"
He didn't know the details of the humans' legal system, but something like that had to exist. Gillian nodded thoughtfully.
"Killing us doesn't work for them," she said slowly. "At least, it's not neat. If we die then the court would have to track down who owned the land now, and we've got family back on Earth who'd inherit. I don't know if the bank could claim it in the meantime, though. Maybe not. Especially if they're then going to find something valuable, something it would be worth Uncle Mike suing over. He's the kind of man who's proud of suing for every nickel he can claim, too."
The tone she spoke in made it clear that she didn't much like this 'Uncle Mike' but Zardan supposed that it didn't make any difference if he was a good person or not. As long as his existence kept the enemy from simply killing Gillian and her brother, he was an ally of sorts.
Harry took a deep breath and let it out again. "Sis, each of us owns a share in the farm, right?"
"Yes," Gillian answered, sounding puzzled at the obvious question.
"So... does that mean that the bank needs two of us to sign, if they want to take the farm from us?"
Zardan frowned, glancing back from the window. He didn't know where Harry was going with this, but the young human didn't sound happy. But Gillian shook her head.
"It's complicated," she said slowly. "The loan's for the whole farm. If we don't pay up on time, then the bank repossesses it all. But yeah, if they want to buy it, two of us need to be okay with that."
She paled, and Zardan realized she'd worked out what Harry was hinting at. But Zardan still didn't follow. "What does that mean?"
"Our father is missing, he vanished sometime after he arrived in Fuller Station," she said. "I told you that. He's got the money from our summer ice haul, which was meant to pay off the loan. The bank wouldn't be set to take the land if he'd not vanished."
"We assumed he was off somewhere getting drunk," Harry said. At Gillian's glare, he shrugged. "What? It's true! He's done that before, just not for so long."
Zardan growled again. "But if that were the case, the bank wouldn't know that you'd be vulnerable. They wouldn't know to come here with an offer and get your signatures for the farm. Danforth seemed awfully sure that your father wasn't going to show up with the money, didn't he?"
Gillian nodded. "So... what if they did something to him, instead? What if Danforth killed him?"
She was shaking, and Zardan swept her into a powerful hug. It wouldn't, couldn't, be enough — he knew more than anyone how bad a missing parent could hurt.
"He's not dead," he told her firmly, putting as much conviction as he could into his words and hoping that he was right. "They wouldn't have killed him, not until all the paperwork's signed and ready to go. It would just complicate things for them, make it a question of inheritance. Danforth offered to buy you out, and that means he believes you're in a position to sell."
Gillian sniffed back tears, clearly unconvinced, and Zardan could feel his rage building at the pain she was suffering. It had been bad enough when she'd simply been worried about her father. Now she had real reason to think something might have happened to him.
I will kill someone for this, he promised himself silently, holding her tight to his chest. She shuddered against him, tense and frightened, and he had to make an effort to keep himself from tensing up as well. The anger he felt was almost a physical thing.
"He's right, sis," Harry said, sounding hopeful more than convinced. "If Dad's dead, the lawyers get involved, right? And maybe the insurance people, too? If they want to grab the land before anyone knows about the ship, then that's the last thing they want."
Gillian drew a deep breath, and Zardan felt her nod against his chest. "Yeah. Yeah. That makes sense. But why can't we find him?"
"Because they've got him," Zardan said. "It's the only explanation. If he pays the loan like he was supposed to, then they lose their chance to claim the land out from under you. So they must have snatched him to hold until the loan defaulted."
"Then why try to buy the farm from us?" Harry asked. Zardan sighed, shaking his head.
"That is my fault," he said, guilt squeezing his heart. "When I claimed the land too, they saw their chance slipping away. They need to get their claim settled and the whole matter dealt with, before I can change everything.”
"If you two had sold the farm then they'd have the land without having to wait for a court to decide the case, and without the risk of the Empire getting involved."
"So what do we do?" Gillian threw up her hands and sat down hard at the table. Zardan joined her, while Harry paced behind them.
"As I see it, there are two options," Zardan said. "If we give in to them and you two sell the farm, they might let your father go too. And they'd probably pay well, if they knew you were going along with their plan."
Gillian's shocked glare was enough to make Zardan wince, and Harry's loud objection was no happier. But he kept talking, not letting them interrupt. "Listen to me. These people are dangerous, they are killers. You need to consider the option of backing down, even if you reject it. I'm not going to pretend that you don't have a choice here."
"It's no choice," Gillian snapped, tears in her eyes. "This farm is our family's legacy, it's everything we've built on Mars. I'm not letting them steal it from me, and fuck you for suggesting that I do."
Her angry words hurt worse than the wound on Zardan's back ever had, but still he smiled. It was the smile of a warrior, bared teeth ready to tear at the throat of the enemy, and he took Gillian's hand in his own, firmly. She tried to pull away, but he held her steady and pulled her back into his embrace.
"Good. I would never drag you into a fight against your will, Gillian. You mean too much for me to risk you for my own purposes. But these, these sons of zrell, they've earned a thousand deaths for what they've done to you and your family. If you are determined to fight them, then we shall give them such a fight as they've never seen."
Her face cleared and she looked up at him. Their eyes met and Zardan could see the jumble of her feelings. Anger at those who'd attacked her family, fear of what might happen next, and something else, fragile and beautiful, that she directed at him. His heart thumped in his chest at the sight of that, and they embraced wordlessly.
From behind him came a disgusted noise, and Harry stomped towards the door. "Ew. Can’t you at least wait until I'm out of the room?"
Gillian's laugh was quiet, embarrassed, and she pulled back from the hug with a shake of her head. Harry slid the door shut on his way out, but the moment had passed and Zardan stood to look out of the window.
"Okay, we've settled what we won't do," Gillian said, picking up the tablet and fidgeting with it. "What's the other option?"
"Simple." Zardan spread his wings, stretching, his hands closing into fists as he looked south. "We take the initiative. If we let them pick the fights, eventually they'll win — so instead we're going to take the fight to them and see how they like it."
17
Gillian
For the hundredth time since they'd set out, Gillian wondered if this was a smart idea. When she'd said to Zardan that she wasn't willing to sell out, she'd meant it: she was going to fight the bastards attacking her family any way she could. But walking into their lair was still terrifying and dangerous.
At least Zardan was next to her, crammed uncomfortably into the small space of the crawler. His presence brought her more comfort than she'd care to admit to him, and she had to fight the urge to lean into him.
The crawler itself chugged along the route automatically. The tracked vehicle was meant for delivering cut ice for sale, and its stupid artificial brain couldn't handle unexplored terrain, but it was the only tra
nsport they had. At least it had a heated cabin for passengers, unlike the mining robots. But, also unlike them, it could only cope with the simplest of paths.
They'd left the ice cap behind hours ago, and now the crawler's tracks bit into the red sands of Mars, pulling them up a rise. As they crested it, the domes of Fuller Station appeared in the distance. Gillian swallowed her fear, trying to put on a mask of determination as she turned to Zardan.
"Nearly there," she said, hating the way her voice cracked as she spoke. More for something to say than because she didn't remember, she asked. "Tell me the plan again. What do we do once we arrive?"
Zardan's hard, rugged face hardly shifted, but there was something about his eyes. Some slight change in the strange violet slits that showed her he cared, despite the mask he put on. Or am I just seeing that because I want to? Because I really want to.
"You sell the ice," he told her. There wasn't much in the crawler's cargo compartment, of course, but they'd taken everything they could. "That should give you the money to make a call, and try to hire a lawyer from Olympus Colony. If you can report what's on your land to the Empire, it'll make things a lot harder for Karaos. Meanwhile, I'll look for Karaos and his flight of dragons, see where they're hiding."
"And when someone comes to find me?" Gillian tried to sound brave, but it came out as petulant, and she felt herself blush as she looked at the domes ahead. I am not going to let my fear get the better of me, she promised herself. And I'm not going to look weak in front of Zardan. I can look after myself, damn it.
But she couldn't hide from the fact that it felt much better when he was there to back her up.
Zardan's big, powerful hand squeezed her shoulder, and she sighed, resisting the urge to lean back against him. The slightest touch set her heart racing and her mind spinning in circles, and while the distraction had been welcome on the long drive she didn't want to lose her focus.
"Gillian," he said, his rough voice filling the small cabin. "Trust that I will not let anything happen to you. That's why we have to split up: I'll attract a lot more attention than you will, and give you a chance to move freely. If they find you anyway, cooperate with them until I rescue you — that's all you need to do. They have nothing to gain by harming you, and if they do I will tear them into pieces so small that you'd need a microscope to find them."
It was a gruesome image, but Gillian couldn't help smiling. The simple earnest passion with which he promised to protect her made her quiver, and she regretted that they were about to arrive. If they'd had more time...
No. Don't think about that. It wasn't easy, trapped in such close quarters with him, and worse she knew he was thinking the same thing. And for all his promises, she knew that they were going into danger. This might be the last time they saw each other if things didn't go well.
The urge to jump him now, while she still had the chance, was almost irresistible.
"I'm not going to let them take me away without a fight," she said instead. Arguing with him felt safer, somehow.
"Gillian." The warning tone in Zardan's voice made her shiver. "Don't put yourself in more danger than you have to."
"Why not? You're putting your life on the line, aren't you? It's my family we're here to protect, I'm not going to do less than you."
"Because it's your family," he said in a low growl. "You still have one to protect. Your father, Harry, they'll both miss you if you're gone. My family and friends are a thousand years dead."
The pain took Gillian right out of her argumentative mood, and she twisted to look back at Zardan. He looked back at her, his lips pursed together tight, anger and sorrow mixing in his eyes. Gillian bit her lip, looked down, and then met his gaze again.
"I'd miss you, you big idiot," she told him fiercely. "So would Harry, God knows why, but he practically worships you. Don't you dare take any risks for us, hear me? We all have to get out of this in one piece."
If we can, the traitorous part of her mind added. She managed to keep herself from saying it out loud, but she knew that it was far too likely that they wouldn't all get out of this. They had to face three dragons plus whoever else Danforth had hired. In principle, the security team at Fuller ought to be on Gillian's side. Even at the best of times, though, they'd been willing to look the other way for anyone with a bit of money. If Danforth had thought to bribe them, there was no way Gillian could compete.
Zardan didn't look convinced, but he nodded anyway. "I'll stay as safe as I can, I promise."
Gillian sighed. That wasn't as comforting a promise as it could have been, but she'd take what she could get.
The crawler rumbled up a ramp and into the docking area. It was nearly empty now, almost all the traffic going to the skyship dock that had been added to the top of the station. Dragon technology was already reshaping Mars, even without the discovery of the faster than light engines that lay under the ice.
Gillian tried not to think about that, concentrating on being glad that the crawler didn't need to maneuver around any other vehicles today. The stupid computer wasn't great at that and it would have been a slow process, or worse, she'd have had to take over manually. It wasn't as though she'd had much chance to practice.
As it was, the crawler made its way to the docking station and only took three tries to pull into the vehicle-sized airlock. The hatch popped open as soon as the pressure equalized, and Gillian hauled herself up, glad of the chance to stretch her legs after the long ride.
The inner door of the airlock slid open, and Gillian stepped through into the station itself. She was almost surprised that Danforth wasn't waiting for her on the far side, and let out a sigh of relief to find that they were alone. It seemed like no one was using these airlocks anymore.
Dad must have, she reminded herself. A few others, too — of the rows of airlocks, four showed as being pressurized, meaning that someone was parked in there. One of those must be the farm's other crawler, left behind when her father vanished.
Behind her, Zardan groaned as he pulled himself out of the crawler and into the station. Looking back, she realized how much worse it must have been for him. The cabin was tight for a human. For a dragon shifter, it had to be torture.
"Sorry about the lack of space," she said, rolling her shoulders and stretching. Zardan just laughed.
"I'd put up with far smaller spaces if I was trapped in them with you," he said with a bow. She felt her cheeks heat and shook her head. It wasn't exactly a great time for flirting, but she had to admit it lightened her mood.
Nothing would put off what they needed to do, though. This was where they'd part ways. Gillian just hoped that they'd be back together soon — she didn't want to think about how many things could go wrong here.
"Right, I guess I need to organize the ice sale," she said after a moment's pause. It wasn't easy to turn away from him, even if she knew she had to.
"Wait until I have a chance to draw their attention before you do anything," Zardan reminded her. "We don't want them to notice you first."
Gillian swallowed nervously, looking back at the crawler. "We don't have long, then. The crawler's registered to the farm, so if anyone's paying attention they'll know we're here."
"Then I shall draw them off." Zardan nodded once and walked away, still stretching as he moved. That didn't make it any easier for her, admittedly. Watching him move was a pleasure in itself. One I can save for later, she told herself sternly, turning her back. He's got things to do, and so do I.
Pulling out her tablet, she connected to the local Wi-Fi and checked for news. There wasn't much — extra spam in her email, a quick note of recent and upcoming events at Fuller, and a docking bill. But the important thing was that she could connect. She could get word out about the Grace of Herendar and let the world know.
In theory, anyway. In practice, who would she call? Zardan hadn't been able to help there. Well, it would have to wait until she had some money in her account anyway. Long-distance calls on Mars weren't cheap, and right now
she barely had enough credit to pay for the crawler's parking.
Walking along the empty, darkened docking bay, she remembered what it had been like when they'd first arrived. Bustling and busy, full of people coming in from the ice farms or their mines. Now, everything happened by skyship, and the shop fronts by this dock were almost all empty.
It had only taken a couple of years for everything to change, and the change wasn't finished yet.
"Gillian, is that you?" a voice called out from up ahead, jerking her out of her reverie. "It is! Why, I just saw your father the other day, and now you. What's going on?"
"Hello, Maxine," Gillian said, looking up at the ice merchant with happy surprise. "Why aren't you up at the skyship dock with all the rest? I expected to have to go looking for you."
"Well, I never did like heights," the woman said, laughing. "Made getting to Mars a real horror show, let me tell you, and now that I'm here I don't intend to encourage those damned flying machines. There's not enough business to go around up there, anyway: too many of the captains don't want to stop off here anymore. Besides, someone's got to take what little trade still comes in this way. Better all of a small pie than a tiny slice of a big one."
Gillian couldn't help laughing. "I don't think that's how that saying usually goes."
"Maybe not," Maxine conceded. "But it's my version, and I'll stick to it. Never did like sharing pies."
She patted her ample stomach and the two women laughed again. It lifted Gillian's spirits a little to see a friendly face, and she stepped up to Maxine's storefront. The prices advertised weren't the best, but they were here — and right now, Gillian didn't want to waste time looking for a better deal. Even better, it let her make the sale discretely. One more thing done before giving Danforth a clue where she was.
