The Lost Princess

by K Bledsoe

  “Aw, isn’t he cute,” said Muscles in a fake high voice. He didn’t appear at all affected by the blow under his chin. “Looks like we have an aspiring hero.”

  Jerk Man squatted down. “Didn’t even break his nose, how about that? Kid’s got some talent.” He waved the small stick. “Handy thing, these magnetic cuffs. Snap! Feet are bound again.” Both laughed.

  Quinn finally was able to take a full breath. “Help!” he yelled as loud as possible. Surely someone outside would hear that and call authorities. “Help me, I’ve been kidnapped.”

  They laughed harder. Quinn was momentarily shocked into silence then opened his mouth to shout again. Jerk Man jabbed two fingers into Quinn’s solar plexus, and he was robbed of breath again.

  “Enough little boy. I told you, there is no hope.” He stood and waved his right hand over his head. The trees and sky disappeared, showing that they were only in a room. The outside had been nothing more than a hologram.

  Muscles grabbed the back of Quinn’s shirt, dragged him to the far wall and propped him upright. Jerk followed, uncoiling a long metal strip. Quinn started to sweat. It looked like a thick necklace with small, twinkling stones. He flinched as the man approached and crouched again, but instead of inflicting pain, Jerk gently attached the necklace around Quinn’s neck. The fit was snug but not too tight and felt cool against his neck.

  “Much better. And pretty enough as a bonus for potential buyers.” He stood and backed away. “You are allowed the one rebellion, but that’s all.” He brandished the wand again and Quinn’s hands and feet sprung apart. “But, defy us again and…” he twisted the back of the wand.

  Pain shot through Quinn. He spasmed once on the floor, twitching as electricity sparked the necklace, sending a shock through his entire body. It only lasted a moment, but the relief when it ceased was intense. Tears flowed freely down Quinn’s face.

  “You will be good now, yes?”

  Quinn nodded as well as he could, prone on the floor.

  “Wonderful.” They walked out, the door closing behind them with an audible click of a lock. A glance about the room showed a cot, wash bowl and toilet. Quinn realized he no longer needed to use the toilet, thanks to the electric shock.

  As he slowly got to his feet to clean himself up as best he could, the realization hit him. The obvious cell, the fake hologram. It had been planned, staged. They wanted him to try to escape. To take hope away.

  But that knowledge didn’t send Quinn into despair. It strengthened his resolve. They could beat him and sell him, but he would survive so that one day he could escape and make them pay for whatever they did to him.

  “And for Mom,” he whispered.

  ***

  Jonah had just finished erasing any incriminating files when a camera on the Palace grounds caught his eye. The prince was staring at something outside the front gate, arms crossed and an angry look on his face.

  He left the Session early. Why?

  The answer walked up the steps and Jonah’s heart stopped momentarily. Lavan. He should have been back already. What was he thinking? Jonah magnified the image, turned up the sound on the camera, fortunately one of the few palace cameras with audio capabilities.

  “And where have you been, Companion?” The slur of the title fit Prince Hahn’s sneer. The look on Lavan’s face was of genuine surprise and perhaps a little fear.

  “I thought you were in Session,” he replied.

  “I got bored,” said the prince, waving his hand in dismissal. “It was all about dull economics and the same old stuff.” His eyes narrowed. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Uh, I’m sorry, Your Highness. I needed a walk.” Lavan bowed his head with the correct amount of humility.

  “And the extensive Palace grounds aren’t enough for you?”

  “I, well, um…” Lavan put his hands behind his back and looked sheepish.

  Please don’t give it all away now. Jonah pulled out several personal data sticks, ready to pull as much information as he could before he had to run.

  “It’s kind of embarrassing, and I didn’t want anyone to know,” said Lavan. With the image enhanced Jonah could see the slight surprise on the prince’s face and even a small malicious smile. Hahn loved to embarrass people, most of all Lavan.

  “Do tell. You know I will find out anyway,” the prince said, his voice a combination of silky and sharp.

  “I went to one of those clubs that has, you know…” his voice dropped to a whisper. “Girls.”

  Hahn’s laughter boomed out, but Jonah sighed in relief, wanting to cheer at Lavan’s deception.

  “Girls? You?”

  Lavan winced at the derogatory tone. “Shhhh! I don’t want anyone to know. I’m not good with girls like you are. I just wanted to get some ideas, or something, I don’t know.” His despondency seemed very real and Jonah was impressed. He didn’t think the companion had it in him.

  The prince threw an arm about Lavan’s shoulders and pulled him along toward their rooms. “Let’s discuss this new side of you, shall we? I would be happy to help you all I can, Companion.”

  Jonah shuddered. He knew that “helpful” voice. Lavan was in for a rough night. Jonah reset the camera to normal operations and set about doing his part to help find the lost princess. Pulling his old files and sending them to the lady agent helped distract him. It wasn’t long before the significantly large file about his investigations into the slave ring was downloaded into his personal reader and sent to the private number. Next would be whatever he could dig up on the tattoos and other data for the next time they met.

  He tried to keep his spirits up, knowing the chances of finding any trace of the girls was extremely slim. And if a trail were found, the chances were even less that they would be alive and fit to return.

  Jonah set his jaw with resolve. Anything was better than a future where Hahn was king.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The desk comp pinged, waking Allison from a fitful sleep. If all was well, they should land on Sulous within the next fifteen minutes. Her father had insisted they fly straight, something they had never done before. She rolled off her bunk and grabbed her personal pad. As she headed for the bridge, she checked her anomaly-detection program that she ran before she slept, but there was nothing new.

  As she climbed the ladder, she could hear Diarmin mumbling to himself. He only did that when he was working on a very difficult machine or when tense. He didn’t glance up from whatever he was reading on the screen when she saw him, but he stopped mumbling.

  “Get any sleep?” he asked.

  “A little. Did you?”

  He nodded, but two empty caf cups on the console in front of him and his red eyes told another story.

  “Buckle up, we are cleared to land.”

  Allison clambered into the navigator’s seat and complied. Her pulse quickened, and she knew the next few hours would be particularly tough. It took a little longer than usual to dock due to a high volume of traffic. They usually landed at ports during slow times, late or very early hours when there weren’t as many workers or other eyes and sometimes with only automated landing guides. But Diarmin hadn’t wanted to wait and the distraction of avoiding a collision in the crowded airspace helped to temporarily take Allison’s mind off her worry for Quinn.

  Right as the ship touched down, Diarmin said, “Power down” to her and leapt out of his seat and down the ladder. As Allison finished shut down procedures, a light flashed on the command board that indicated the main hatch being opened. Maybe her mother had already found Quinn. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding, and they would be there laughing, embarrassed that they had worried for nothing.

  She hurried down the ladder and corridor and reached the hatch in time to see her mother closing it. Her father looked around a bit frantically, but there was no Quinn. His face seemed to crumple in on itself.

  He had been hoping, too.

  Her mother waved them to the lounge. As they filed throu
gh the door, she handed several data sticks to Allison.

  “See what you make of this data, courtesy of a security guard within the palace, gathered over several years. I have organized and analyzed it, but I want your conclusions. A pattern analyses would be useful as well.”

  “Okay, Mom,” replied Allison. Lenore gave her a peculiar look but said nothing. Allison immediately started working at the lounge computer as her parents sat on the other side of the room, heads together and voices low. Though the information kept her busy, Allison tried to catch part of the conversation, but they were being too quiet. She was a bit annoyed at being left out, but let it go to focus on the huge amount of data. It wasn’t long before she had a good idea and could even see a couple of patterns. She notated them on her pad and her idea sketchbook.

  “Done.”

  They dragged chairs to the computer, each with their own pad.

  “If this information is correct,” she looked at her mother who nodded assurance. “We can see that every time a part of the slave trade is discovered, it vanishes.”

  “We already knew that from our own searches,” Diarmin pointed out. “And then it resurfaces later, just as strong as ever.”

  “Right, but this information shows a lot more instances than we found, almost three times as many. It also confirms that when certain authorities are involved, the organization vanishes without any raids or arrests. Sometimes, like here and here,” Allison pointed out two instances on the screen. “The investigation was halted for unknown reasons.”

  “There is someone feeding the slavers information about the investigations,” said Diarmin.

  Lenore nodded and said, “Probably more than one inside informant.”

  “Four by my count,” added Allison.

  “Hm, I only found three, but let’s assume four.” Lenore tapped on her pad. “Have you narrowed down any likely prospects, Alli?”

  Allison shook her head. “I know the most likely sectors but have to cross check individual records.”

  “How long will that take you?”

  “Well, I need to run the analysis program and enter all known parameters then apply my own—” She stopped at Lenore’s held-up hand.

  “I don’t need the details. How long?”

  Allison clenched her jaw but understood her mother’s impatience. “An hour, two at the most.”

  “Good, get started.” Allison bristled against the demanding tone, but she knew this was how her mother dealt with stress, immediately taking control of the situation. Lenore asked her to do things all the time, just not in such a harsh manner like some flunky. She started the search immediately, and Lenore continued with her “orders”.

  “Diarmin, I will need at least ten subdermal monitors, undetectable as usual.”

  “Ten? I only have three.”

  “You’d better get to work then,” said Lenore.

  “I don’t have enough micro parts for another seven, only four more…”

  “Then cannibalize part of the ship. We aren’t going anywhere, and I need those devices.”

  Allison heard her father’s sudden intake of breath, and her surprise at her mother’s severe tone was nothing compared to the anxiety on Diarmin’s face. Allison saw muscles bunch along Lenore’s jaw and as her parents stared at each other, the tension in the lounge rose to a level Allison had never experienced before. Her parents argued like any couple, but this was different. She held her breath waiting for an explosion, but Diarmin merely nodded then spun about and headed for his workshop. Allison glanced back at her mother, but she had turned her face away.

  “Let me know when you have names,” she said, voice gruff. Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed her pad and walked out.

  ***

  “And what was that all about?” asked Diarmin as he stepped onto the bridge.

  Lenore’s head shot up from her arms that were resting on the command console. Had she been sleeping?

  “What are you talking about?” Lenore took her stylus and tapped at her comp pad with much more force than necessary.

  “This,” Diarmin said as he gently plucked the stylus from her hand. “I’m worried about Quinn too, but we’ll get him back.” He put his hand on Lenore’s and knelt beside the chair. She turned to look at him, but he knew she was too much of a professional to become emotional.

  “You’ve had missions that were a lot more dangerous than this. I am confident you can pull this one off,” he said.

  She looked away and spoke to the walls, as if it were easier to speak that way.

  “This organization is huge, Diarmin. Much larger and more ordered than anything I have ever seen, even when I was with the Xa’ti’al. There is so much we don’t know, and it’s too massive for only one ex-agent and her husband to handle.”

  “Call in some help?”

  “From who? I can’t ask for help from the local authorities. We can guess but not be certain who is involved and can’t take the chance of the slavers vanishing again. We know I burned my bridges with the order, and you certainly can’t call upon your former colleagues.”

  “What about your informant at the palace?”

  “He seems genuine, but there is also too much I don’t know about him and the more I talk to him, the more questions come up.” She threw up her hands then let them fall to her sides. “One wrong step and they will probably kill Quinn rather than risk being exposed. It’s going to be a fine line to tread.”

  “Then we will make the right steps.” He stood and gently squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll do it together, like we always have.” Despite his words, Lenore stiffened against the offered comfort. He relaxed his hold and dropped his arm.

  Sounds of Allison climbing the ladder forestalled any more discussion.

  “Here.” She thrust papers between Lenore and Diarmin. “There are five prospects in various departments, but I can’t be sure of any of them. I pulled every last detail about them so maybe you can find something I missed.”

  “Thank you, Allison,” said Lenore. “This is a big help.”

  “So. What’s the plan?” she asked as she settled herself in the navigation seat.

  Diarmin peered at her and blinked, vaguely aware that his wife doing the same thing.

  “I need to know what more I can do.”

  “We will let you know, Alli,” said Diarmin. “Why don’t you get some sleep.”

  “No.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘no’ because he is my brother and I am going to help.”

  “It’s too dangerous, Allison,” said Lenore. “We can’t have you getting involved.”

  “Did I volunteer to run around getting shot at? Computers are my thing and I want to do more,” she said. She winced slightly then set her chin, which told Diarmin Allison knew she was pushing her luck but determined.

  Allison crossed her arms. “At least let me know what you are doing so if I end up being an orphan, I can tell future generations why.”

  Lenore’s face reddened so Diarmin spoke up.

  “You can stay but no interruptions.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Thank you, Officer Kibe,” Lenore shook his hand, making sure to tap her forefinger on his wrist to implant the tracker.

  “I am sorry that I cannot do more, Dama Gienne,” said the officer.

  “Here, please. Take my card and call me if you think or hear of anything.” Lenore placed the card with her alias firmly in his hands, then grabbed them with her own hands. “Please, find my son.” She gave her long, white-blond hair a toss for good measure.

  “We will do all we can.” He smiled and inclined his head.

  Lenore showed a hesitant attempt at a smile but released his hands and hurried out the door. A block away, she tapped her ear implant to activate the transmitter. But before she could send a subvocal message to the ship, Allison’s voice piped in.

  “We’ve got movement!”

  “Not so loud, Alli,” Lenore subvocalized
.

  “Oh, Mom, hi. Didn’t know you were back on yet. I was hollering at Dad.”

  “Reporting that the fifth and final mark is in place.”

  “Noted,” cut in Diarmin, “but it looks like it might be superfluous.”

  “Agreed. Which one is moving, Allison?” Lenore knew from their previous discussion that “movement” meant that a tracker on one of the suspected officers was showing that the mark was going somewhere outside of expected areas.

  “Number three. He left his office ten minutes ago, but he is not heading home or any of the other places on the ‘approved’ list that you left me. Hang on, looks like he is heading for a food cart. Little late for lunch, isn’t it?”

  Lenore imagined Allison tapping away at several computer stations as she mused out loud.

  “Ha. There is a similar cart and a high-end restaurant much closer to his office and home. That’s not suspicious at all.”

  “Maybe it has the best food,” interjected Diarmin.

  “Not according to the sales figures. Barely sells enough to even be considered a business.”

  “Ping that location for me, will you?” asked Lenore.

  “Done, Mom,” said Allison.

  “Ha! The business card you gave him was just scanned,” said Diarmin. “Looks like someone is concerned about a tracker or tap.”

  Lenore’s wristcomp buzzed with the information Allison was sending, and she scanned it quickly as she walked.

  “Might also be interesting to note that particular cart and vendor is not on the list of undercover agents or informers,” added Allison.

  Lenore shook her head, not even bothering to ask how Allison had gotten hold of those highly protected lists.

  “Card destroyed along with its monitor,” said Diarmin. “I think we have just confirmed our guy.”

  Lenore allowed herself a small smile as she glanced at her wrist comp again. The other tracker, the subdermal one she had planted on his wrist, was working just fine.

  “Keep your eyes on the others. I’m sure there are more than one working for the slavers.” She pulled out her personal comp pad as she switched direction. “Pull all the information on this one that you can, Allison and send it to my pad. And I mean everything, down to his most recent bowel movements. I will study it while I wait for him to come home.”