by Wayne Basta
Zeric hastened to say, “The manager said he’d send Ceta out after she finished a private dance. Might as well enjoy ourselves while we wait.”
Maarkean’s look thawed slightly. Zeric took this as proof that his theory wasn’t wrong, it just required more time with some people. He thought about trying to get that Braz dancer’s attention. If anyone could use a lap dance from someone like her, it was Maarkean.
Contenting himself with looking as they waited, Zeric considered what he would say to Ceta. They hadn’t exactly parted on great terms. In his defense, it wasn’t like they had been in a serious long-term relationship. Granted, it had been one of his longest: over a week. But it had all been about the sex, and he was sure she knew that.
The music stopped and the Braz female left the stage, replaced by a pair of Terran twins. The crowd became more excited, and Zeric began to think even Maarkean would be interested. What male could resist naked, dancing twins? That was when he felt the tap on his shoulder.
Turning around, he saw a beautiful brunette Terran standing behind him. He immediately recognized Ceta Darshawn glowering at him while standing there wearing what, in any other place, would be called scandalously little clothing. Perfect timing, he thought bitterly as he reluctantly turned away from the stage. Standing up, he put his arms out and smiled at Ceta.
The sting of the slap on his cheek registered before his eyes saw the hand. Zeric worked his jaw for a second to make sure it still opened and closed, and then he said, “I suppose I deserve that.”
Privately, Zeric disagreed, but he had learned a long time ago that telling a girl that wanted to slap you that you didn’t deserve it just made things worse. Especially when you needed the girl’s help. He decided to act like the slap had hurt more than it did, in hopes she wouldn’t do it again.
The reaction from Maarkean showed that the Braz had some ability to be amused. “I think I like her already, Zeric.”
“Ceta, meet Maarkean,” Zeric said, still rubbing his cheek.
Ceta turned her angry glare away from Zeric and instantly switched to a warm, friendly smile. “Maarkean, nice to meet you. Welcome to the Tyren Dancer. Though, I have to question your company.”
Maarkean rubbed the insult in with a smile. “Beggars can’t be choosers. Is there some place we can talk?”
With a coy smile, Ceta replied, “So you just want to ‘talk’?”
The serious expression returned to Maarkean’s face, and Zeric interjected, “It’s about Lei-mey, Ceta.”
The girl’s playful smile instantly evaporated. A look of panic came to her blue eyes as she looked around nervously. She grabbed Zeric and Maarkean by the arm, dragging them toward the exit, shoving people out of the way as she went. Once outside, she rounded on Zeric and slapped him again.
“You have a lot of nerve talking about that. I might have forgiven you for leaving like you did. But if you’ve come here to try to ‘comfort’ me because my sister’s been arrested, you can just go back under whatever rock you live under.”
Defensively, Zeric put his arms up to shield himself from several more blows. He was only willing to take so much. The onslaught went on for several moments before Maarkean stepped in and gently grabbed Ceta’s wrists, pulling her off Zeric. He then calmly spoke.
“Ceta, we’re interested in helping her. I promise you that Zeric’s intentions, at least in this, are entirely honorable.”
Standing outside in the dark in her skimpy outfit, Ceta began shivering now that she had stopped pounding on Zeric. She looked back and forth between Zeric and Maarkean. Her expression was a mix of relief and confusion.
After a moment, she said, “Why would you want to help my sister? She’s at Olan. There’s nothing you can help her with. Neither of you look like lawyers, and anyway, I doubt there will ever be a real trial.”
Zeric risked moving back into range of Ceta’s arms. “Maarkean’s sister is in there, too. When we saw that Lei-mey had been taken, we thought we might be able to work with her friends to get them both out. The news mentioned a terrorist cell. We were hoping you could direct us to them.”
A laugh escaped from Ceta, surprising Zeric. “Terrorist cell? My sister? She’s not part of a terrorist cell.”
It was Zeric’s turn to be surprised. “All right, not terrorist cell. But I assume they’re some kind of resistance group. You always talked about her being a big political activist. You mentioned followers and a goal of kicking the Alliance off Sulas.”
Ceta nodded. “Sure, she led a political movement. They were opposed to the unelected governor the Alliance has in place, along with the unwarranted imprisonments in places like Olan. But they only stage peaceful protests and petitions. They are entirely peaceful. She has a lot of support, which is why the legislature chose her as the leader of the delegation to the Kreogh Sector Congress. That’s why she was arrested.”
The look of relief on Maarkean’s face was clearly visible. Zeric, however, grumbled to himself. He knew this group wasn’t a bunch of suicide-bombing nut jobs, but if they were entirely peaceful, that did not bode well for their plans.
He didn’t know what this Kreogh Sector Congress was, but he had been counting on something more than a political party. With a name like that, he hoped they would have resources and connections coming from all seven worlds in the sector.
“Whatever they are,” Maarkean said, “they have to want to get her free as much as we do. Even if they aren’t terrorists, at least some of her friends have to be more than just politicians. We’d like to meet them.”
Ceta pursed her lips into a frown as she considered Maarkean. Suspicion was clear on her face, but after a moment, a feeble look of hope appeared in her eyes. Maarkean looked at her sympathetically. Zeric was sure the man could understand her position. He would probably be overjoyed if someone showed up and offered to get his sister out.
In the end, Ceta nodded, some enthusiasm breaking through her suspicion. “Very well. If there is even a chance that you can get Lei-mey out, it’s worth it.”
During the trip out to meet the supposed terrorist group, Maarkean pondered what he was doing. Despite all that he had done in recent years, he still considered himself a mostly law-abiding citizen. He had gotten Saracasi off Braz before the arrest warrant was issued, so technically he had not aided a fugitive in escaping. Smuggling had been a necessity, but that he considered only a morally grey area.
Now, he followed a pirate and a stripper to meet a so-called terrorist group so he could break criminals out of jail. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, he would have considered that to be the set-up for some kind of joke. He wasn’t positive that the whole thing wasn’t some kind of cosmic prank on him.
When Ceta had laughed at the idea that the people they were going to meet were dangerous, it had surprised him. Based on the news articles he had read while waiting for Ceta’s shift to end, this group of Lei-mey’s followers had sounded like they were bloodthirsty rebels out to destroy civilization. During the trip, he reconsidered what he had read. The group Saracasi had belonged to had been described in similar ways, and Saracasi certainly wasn’t a bloodthirsty killer.
The house they pulled up to was like any of the others in the neighborhood. It was a much nicer area than the strip club had been in, which was another surprise for Maarkean. Upon further reflection, it started to make sense. The news articles had described the group as low-life alien lovers. Maybe living in a middle-class district populated primarily by Braz and Terrans helped them lie low.
Opening the door to the house was a tall brown-haired Terran male, about Zeric’s height but a few years younger. He took one look at Ceta and then pulled the three of them inside. Slamming the door shut, the man rounded on Ceta angrily.
“What are you doing here? If the authorities see you talking to us, they could figure out who we are,” he growled, narrowing his black eyes.
“Relax,” Zeric said. “If the AIS even suspected Ceta, she would be in Olan with her sister.�
��
The man turned to face Zeric, pale skin flushed with anger. “Who the hell are you?”
Ceta fumbled her words as she tried to speak. “They want to help Lei-mey.”
“And you brought them here?!” the man said heatedly.
“Pasha, they wanted to find people who might be willing to help them,” Ceta said trying to calm him. “I know Zeric from a while back. His friend, Maarkean, has a sister who’s locked up too. When they saw that Lei-mey had been captured, they sought me out hoping to team up with you to break them both out.”
The man, Pasha, appeared to relax slightly, and then he said, “Well, he’s right. If AIS even suspected us, they would be here already. But let’s go someplace more private to talk.”
Pasha led them through the house to a set of stairs. He led them down into the basement, which held three people sitting around a table. Once it became obvious that Pasha wasn’t alone, the group all stood up, tense and ready for action. The Ronid and the Terran male held weapons, but the Kowwok remained unarmed.
Maarkean leaned over to whisper to Ceta, “I thought you said they were peaceful.”
The blond Terran male with the gun spoke first. “Pasha, who are these people?”
Pasha stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face the guests. “You all know Ceta, Lei-mey’s sister. And these are her friends Maarkean and Zeric. They apparently are here to help Lei-mey.”
Seizing the opportunity, Maarkean decided to speak. He did not draw a weapon, and he didn’t trust Zeric not to make things worse. Unfortunately, Zeric apparently thought the same thing and was able to speak first. “That’s right. We heard that Lei-mey had been arrested and we wanted to get her out.”
The Ronid in the group had a dark green carapace with a light green underside. He clacked his mandibles and puckered his long mouth in a skeptical way, his voice with that characteristic Ronid high-pitched hissing undertone making his words sound even more ominous. “Really? You just decided out of the blue to come hunt down Lei-mey’s associates, right after she is arrested, in order to help us. A couple of complete strangers who know nothing about us, but offer help in breaking into a secure detention facility. I smell a setup.”
The Kowwok looked contemplative for a moment, but then nodded. “Very well. Stun them to be safe.”
As the Terran and the Ronid took aim, Maarkean looked at Zeric. “You idiot.”
Waking up from his second stunning in as many days, Zeric tried to recall where he was. It was much less comfortable than the last time. Instead of lying in a soft hospital bed, Zeric found himself tied to a chair. He appeared to still be in the basement, but there was a bright light shining down on him and the rest of the room was in darkness.
Swiveling his head as best he could, Zeric saw that Maarkean was strapped to a chair behind him. Movement in the darkness beyond the light caught his attention. Zeric started to reconsider how dangerous this group might be.
Zeric struggled against his bonds and realized that they were ordinary rope. Some types of cuffs could be picked, and zip cords were easy to cut if you could find something sharp, but rope was child’s play. As subtly as he could, he began shifting his wrists, trying to loosen the knots.
In an attempt to distract attention from anyone who might be watching in the dark, he said, “Maark, you awake?”
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake up,” came Maarkean’s hoarse reply.
“You know us Terrans, we like to sleep.”
“You still think this was a good idea?”
“Of course,” quipped Zeric, a wry grin on his thin lips.
“You’re still an idiot.”
“Silence!” a voice from the darkness called out.
Zeric thought he recognized the voice as that of the Kowwok who had ordered them to be stunned. There were other whispers from the darkness and the sounds of people shifting around. For a moment, it looked like someone was about to step into the light, but then the figure backed away.
“So,” the voice said, “You wanted us to help you break people out of Olan Detention Center.”
“Yes.”
“What agency do you work for?”
“What?” Zeric asked, surprised.
Maarkean let out a small laugh. “They think we’re Alliance agents trying to set them up. You do know that if we were AIS agents we couldn’t arrest you for planning to break into the prison after we suggested it. That’s entrapment.”
The first voice called out from the darkness, “You seem to be well versed in AIS policy.”
“You mean Alliance law?” Maarkean asked. “Yeah, I’ve been an Alliance citizen for thirty-nine years. I’ve picked up a few things.”
“We ask again, why are you here?”
Maarkean let out a loud sigh. “Well, it’s obvious you aren’t going to believe us when we tell the truth. So what’s your plan? Shout at us from the dark until we agree with your silly theory? And what’s the point of the light, anyway? We’ve already seen your faces.”
Internally, Zeric groaned. Pointing out to an enemy group that you’ve seen their faces did not strike him as the best strategy. He would have preferred the ‘we haven’t seen or heard anything’ approach. But, he admitted, Maarkean was proving to be a good distraction. He also realized that every time the Braz shifted to make an agitated point, the ropes that bound them moved in a beneficial way for Zeric.
“You’re just going to have to kill us,” Maarkean said.
There were loud whispers coming from the darkness. Zeric heard a female voice say something that sounded like ‘we can’t kill them’ and then several voices started arguing. Zeric began working the ropes furiously. He thought he understood Maarkean’s tactic. No one who had been in the basement had the look of hardened criminals. Everything they had done was the mark of amateurs. Even amateurs could kill, though, and Zeric was not sold on the idea of encouraging that line of thinking.
“If you don’t cooperate, we may have to,” the Kowwok’s deep rumbling voice said, though without conviction. It continued with more determination. “Tell us why you are here, and you may yet live.”
A little over dramatic, Zeric thought, but he kept that opinion to himself.
“Look, we’re all on the same side here,” Zeric said, trying to sound friendly.
A frustrated growl came from the darkness. “Fine, if none of you will do what’s necessary to get them to tell us the truth, I will.”
A female’s voice cried, “Jairyd, no!”
“Are you just about done?” Maarkean asked, a note of urgency in his voice.
The question struck Zeric as odd until he realized it was directed at him. Turning his head, he saw the blond-haired Terran striding toward them from the darkness, a determined look in his eyes. With a few final slips of his wrists, Zeric replied, “Yeah, just about.”
As soon as the ropes became loose, Zeric bolted upright, and Maarkean did the same, but moving in the opposite direction, both away from the Terran. Zeric charged into the darkness, making it several paces before stun bolts flashed out of the darkness. The first several missed and he managed to grab someone just on the edge of the light. Then one of the bolts connected.
The now-familiar feel of the stun bolt cascaded over his body. When Zeric realized he wasn’t unconscious, he was confused. The stun pulse surged through him and then down his arms into the person he had just grabbed. The thin, wiry Terran female he had been grappling with dropped to the ground with a thud.
Two more stun bolts hit him and then surged down his body into the ground. Zeric found the entire experience unsettling, but he wasted no time. Moving quickly, he dashed toward the place where the stun bolts had originated and found the Ronid.
Zeric charged, and the Ronid threw down his apparently useless pistol and charged as well. The pair met in the middle. Zeric managed to twist aside and let the Ronid go past. He had not picked up many of Gu’od’s fighting techniques, but he still remembered some tricks from his ch
ildhood. Hockey was his preferred sport, but he’d been good at avoiding tackles, too.
Slipping past the Ronid, Zeric dove for the ground where the pistol had fallen. Picking it up, he twirled around and shot the Ronid, who was just turning to come back for him. Surveying the room, Zeric saw that the female he’d grabbed was still down on the other side of the room.
Maarkean was grappling with the Kowwok. Zeric considered shooting at them and seeing if Maarkean was as immune to stun bolts as he was, but he knew that at least one of the Terrans was still unaccounted for.
Fumbling around in the darkness, Zeric tried to find the others, or at least a light switch. With no darkvision, he tripped over a few things, banging his shin painfully, before stumbling into a lamp. As he fumbled to switch it on, a blast ripped through the room. A full-power blaster bolt emerged from a gun at the top of the stairs and destroyed an ottoman near Maarkean and the Kowwok.
Maarkean and the Kowwok froze. The Kowwok looked torn between resuming his fight and staring with disbelief at the dark, glowering man identified as Jairyd. Silence filled the room for a moment before Jairyd spoke.
“I know that stunning you won’t do any good, at least for the next few hours, but as you saw, I’m no longer set to stun.”
The idea clicked in Zeric’s head, and he remembered the down side to low-power stun shots. While most normal stun shots put a person out for several hours, low-power shots, especially from commercial home defense weapons, only knocked a person out for one to two hours.
When a person was stunned, their body became slightly charged from the shot; the charge would not dissipate for about six hours. Shooting someone again before that charge dissipated would have no effect, meaning they were effectively immune.
Deciding to test his luck, Zeric raised his weapon toward Jairyd. “Good, I’m not set to stun, either. Makes this a good, old-fashioned standoff.”
