Tynan

by Bonnie Burrows

  “Are you going to be more docile now?” asked Liona. “Or must I give you another little incentive to behave?”

  Sierra held up a hand, signifying her surrender. “Don’t turn that damn thing on again,” she choked. “I’m done.”

  “That you are,” Liona sneered. “Now, get up and do as I told you.”

  Sierra dragged herself back to her feet, silently swearing bloody vengeance on this creature at the next opportunity that presented itself.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Chithisian ship was just the exact size to fit inside a clearing in a forested sector not far from Talontown. Once the crew returned from their supply run in the city, the ship rose above the treetops and took off into the night, back in that direction.

  Their strategy was a necessarily subtle one. They would not climb too high into the sky, the better to avoid any Knighthood or Corps crafts that might be cruising about. They would keep outside of the main airlanes and use the less traveled ones, where they might be taken for a freight vessel.

  Once they reached Talontown, they would make a circuit around the periphery of the city and blend in with the traffic there before peeling out into open countryside again. After seven hundred and fifty kilometers they would be out of the blockaded zone, and with luck it would be safe for them to climb for the stratosphere, and space—and freedom.

  In the passenger section of the craft, there were four chairs. Sierra was in one, held tight by restraints that would normally be extended around the occupant of the seat in the event of a crash or collision. Two other Chithisian males, each of them as barbaric-looking as their Captain, sat unrestrained in chairs near her, giving her looks that suggested they were imagining themselves and Kharno passing her around like a bottle of Bachirian ale.

  Sierra refused to address them or do anything but look unsmiling at them. Chithisians were the most disgusting creatures, but she was properly wary of these two. Each of them was carrying the Chithisian slaver’s weapon of choice, a whip of braided metal that could be charged with energy from the handle, not only ensnaring a victim but delivering a sustained jolt of power that was every bit as painful as the discipline pain inducer. The weapons of her traveling companions gave her a couple of other things to worry about.

  While being put in restraints, however, Sierra had quickly glanced around the passenger section to scope out her surroundings in preparation for anything that might arise. There was an auxiliary control panel, connected to the controls on the bridge. There was also a rather spacious-looking storage compartment with one window slit. These details she kept in mind as she felt the craft lift itself from the concealing forest and watched the night sky fill the windows.

  Next, she felt the engines thrusting the ship in one direction and knew that they were moving. She kept herself as calm as she knew how, under the circumstances—remembering that anger would be of greater use to her, come what may, than panic. Sierra Swift never panicked. She only looked for opportunities and used them when she found them. Sooner or later, she would find one. So, she kept herself calm.

  A Dragon Corps hovercar with its top up came swooping down from Nimbus City over the night-draped countryside, its forward lights beaming ahead of it. The car settled into a course parallel with the terrain at top speed. Four occupants, two in front and two in back, sat inside.

  Brogan was at the controls, Elaina riding shotgun. Behind them sat Tynan and Daxav. While Tynan sat forward anxiously in his seat, Daxav lay back in his, trying to expend as little energy as possible while keeping the myriad fingers of his mind reaching out. Tynan’s eyes darted back and forth between his friends up front and the Visanian at his side. “What are you getting?” he asked them all. “What are you picking up?”

  “Liona is still where I found her,” said Daxav. “She is on board a spacecraft. I don’t recognize the design. We’re still too far from her for me to pick up any other information, except…except…” He closed his eyes, concentrating.

  “Except what?” Tynan demanded.

  Craning her neck back at him, Elaina warned, “Don’t stress him too much, Tynan. Let him work.”

  Sighing in frustration, Tynan insistently but more softly said to Daxav, “Relax. Relax. Just let it come to you. Don’t lose her, please…”

  “I’m not losing her—yet,” said Daxav, his eyes still closed. “But we must keep her in range. She is moving. The ship that she is aboard…it has taken off. It’s moving.”

  “Can you tell in what direction?” Tynan asked.

  “We’re…still too far,” Daxav answered.

  Up to the front of the car, Tynan asked, “Are you getting anything at all?”

  Brogan checked his dashboard holographs. “Nothing but the usual traffic in the air tonight between here and Talontown. The usual civilian passenger flyers, some mass-transit vessels, some commercial traffic…,” he paused, furrowing his brow, frowning curiously. “That’s interesting. You don’t see many of those around these parts.”

  On the edge of his seat, Tynan pressed, “What? What?”

  “There’s a Chithisian ship out there,” replied Brogan.

  Suddenly, Daxav’s entire body tensed as if jolted with electricity, then he began to squirm and cry out loudly as if in a delirium: “Kharno…Kharno! Kharno…!”

  Tynan put a hand on Daxav’s shoulder, grasping him, trying to steady him. “What?” he said urgently. “What is it? What is Kharno?”

  Daxav settled just a bit and shook his head. “Not ‘what’—who. Hearing the name, it’s given me a stronger impression from Liona. I remember…Kharno.”

  Almost shouting, Tynan squeezed Daxav’s shoulder a little harder. “Who is Kharno?”

  Breathlessly, Daxav answered, “A Chithisian. Kharno is a Chithisian. On his own planet, with his own people, Kharno is legitimate. The Chithisians permit forced servitude, both labor and…other kinds…”

  “That’s right,” Elaina called back. “Everyone knows about them, one of the most crime-riddled planets in the quadrant.”

  “Yes,” Daxav continued. “Kharno is a criminal outside of his home system, mostly a smuggler, but he has…other business interests. Liona knows him. She and the smuggling ring that she belonged to worked with him at times. After a successful smuggling run, when Kharno paid her, he would sometimes bring her…a male plaything.” He opened one eye and looked with trepidation at Tynan, who was even now adding up the things he was saying. “Even while she was with you, at times, she would have…”

  “…a male concubine,” Tynan finished for him, with a new wrath boiling up inside him. “A whore! That’s where Liona’s taken Sierra! To a slaver ship!” Tynan hurled himself back against his seat, raising fists that turned to dragon talons. “Damn her! DAMN HER! That bitch took her to a Chithisian flesh trader!” His face went reptilian; his horns raised. “She took Sierra to be sold for…for…,” he could not make himself say the words. He could only roar, “I’ll kill her! I WILL KILL HER!”

  Leaning back and looking sternly behind her, Elaina warned, “Keep it in check, Tynan. No one’s killing anyone if we can help it. We’re going to catch that ship.”

  “Damn right we are!” Tynan snapped. “And when I catch that bitch…”

  “First things first, buddy,” said Brogan. “I’m setting an intercept course for that ship now. We’ll be right at them.”

  The Corps hovercar sliced through the night, Brogan squeezing a little more speed out of its engines. In the back seat, Tynan managed to calm himself just enough to go human again. But on his face was a look more demonic than princely.

  “Your lover will not have been harmed,” said Daxav. “Flesh traders want their merchandise in saleable condition…,” he stopped himself when Tynan turned his head and fixed that demonic look on him. “Excuse me,” he softly said.

  Everyone on board went silent. The tension in the car was as thick as the clouds of a gas giant. Brogan kept full speed ahead.

  In minutes, they had the squat and ugly hu
lk of the Chithisian ship in their sights.

  Brogan hit the surface on the control dash to transmit comm hails to the vessel ahead of them. With the system engaged, he called, “Chithisian pilot, this is the Dragon Corps of Lacerta. Land your vessel and prepare to give your credentials and be boarded.”

  No response came from the alien ship. Brogan checked his dash sensors.

  “They’re not answering,” said Tynan, sitting forward again.

  “Not only are they not answering,” said Brogan, “they’re accelerating. Ignoring us and speeding up.”

  “Anyone want to guess why?” Elaina ventured, knowing, like her companions, the obvious answer.

  Behind Brogan, Daxav sat up in his seat, eyes wide open. “The impressions from the Chithisian craft are stronger now. Stronger. There are five thought signatures on board. Liona…Kharno…two other Chithisians…and a human. A female human.” He took a breath and continued, “The female human’s thoughts are of…confinement. Restraint. Escape. Violence.”

  He closed his eyes and shuddered before going on. “Violent thoughts. And more… I see…Tynan.” He looked over at the Prince. “Beneath the thoughts of restraint and escape and violence in the human female…there is you. I hear your name.”

  Grasping Elaina’s seat, Tynan shouted, “Sierra!”

  “It must be,” said Daxav.

  “Let’s get a grip,” said Brogan. To the comm system, he called again, “Chithisian pilot, this is the Dragon Corps of Lacerta. We repeat, land your vessel, prepare to give your credentials and be boarded. This will be your last warning.”

  Damn right it will, thought Tynan, and felt a slight rustling in his head. He glanced over at Daxav, who pursed his lips, knowing that Tynan had sensed him brushing against his thoughts.

  On the Chithisian bridge, Kharno piloted while Liona took the copilot’s seat, watching the Corps vehicle on the aft monitors. The voice of Brogan came over their audio for a second time. “It’s one of them,” Liona scowled. “One of Tynan’s wretched Corps friends. I know that voice. Tynan must be with them. Damn, how did he find us?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” rumbled Kharno. “My craft has never been boarded. Tonight will not be the first time.”

  Liona looked gravely over at him. “What are you going to do, Kharno?”

  “What a smuggler does to any pursuer.”

  “They’re Corps!” Liona warned. “Outrun them! Evade them!”

  “Evasion is no good. There is no place to hide.” He tapped a surface on the control console and a targeting and weapons array rose up into view from it. “They may survive the crash when we blast them out of the air—if they’re fortunate.”

  “Kharno!” Liona shouted, a louder warning.

  The Chithisian fixed her with a menacing gaze. “Do you still care that much for your Prince Tynan? Does it matter that he may die?”

  “I don’t care what happens to any of them!” Liona protested. “I only care about not going back to dungeon!”

  “And what do you think will happen to us all if they board this craft and find what a lovely piece of merchandise you’ve brought me?” He returned his attention to his forward window, his controls—and his weapons array. “I value my freedom and my profits far more than their lives. Be quiet and let me dispose of them, and we may yet gain the freedom of space.”

  Liona dug one hand into the arm of her chair. Or we may have the Corps chasing us off the planet and the Knights chasing us across the quadrant. But there would be no reasoning with Kharno. He would do what he would do, though the Inferno may await them all.

  A shot flashed out from the aft weapons battery of the Chithisian ship. Its light shocked Brogan, Elaina, and their passengers, and Brogan barely swerved in time to evade the energy shell that tore through the air where they had been. Brogan quickly righted the car and watched their quarry put on more speed.

  “They did not just fire at us!” cried Elaina.

  “Oh yes they did,” said Brogan. “And if they think they’re going to shoot me out of the damn air…well, they’ve just never met me.” He increased speed to match the aliens.

  The Chithisian ship fired again. A second energy shell roared out, which Brogan evaded as skillfully as the first. Brogan said to Elaina, “Got my hands full, partner. This is yours.”

  Elaina had already activated the targeting scanner on her side of the dash. “Absolutely,” she replied. “I’ve got them now.”

  “Get ‘em,” said Brogan.

  In the back seat, Tynan, his heart racing as fast as the car’s engine, silently added, Yes, get ‘em. Get ‘em for me. Just don’t let anything happen to Sierra.

  Two energy shells blazed their way out of the forward guns of the Corps vehicle. They bracketed the other craft, sizzling past it. The Chithisian swerved to avoid one and almost entered the path of the other before pulling straight again. Elaina fired again. This shell rocketed over the top of the alien craft, making it drop lower. But the alien kept its speed constant. This was going to be a chase.

  The two ships raced on over the countryside, climbing and diving, twisting and swerving. The Corps car fired its weapons, releasing its sizzling bursts into the night, and the Chithisian ship answered, firing back with blazing projectiles that Brogan ably skirted with expert piloting. The ships grazed the tops of trees and their unleashed weapons created plumes of fire and sparks that rose up from the countryside into the night.

  In the distance shone the lights of Talontown, just beyond a stand of trees, presenting the Corps car with a new complication.

  Elaina said, “That’s Talontown right ahead. We don’t want to take this into the city.”

  “Make sure we don’t,” Brogan replied.

  Licking her lips, Elaina concentrated and fired again, putting her shot once more over the top of the Chithisians. Once again, the alien craft dove downward—and this time Elaina was ready for them. She had already aimed her next shot for the exact position into which they descended. The energy shell roared and blazed out—and connected, making a blast of sparks on the aft section of its target. The Chithisian ship kept going down.

  “You GOT ‘em!” Tynan roared, slapping the back of Elaina’s seat.

  “I got ‘em,” Elaina said, allowing herself just a little smile as Brogan steered the craft downward after their quickly descending quarry.

  Kharno’s ship made a thunderous crash hitting the ground, sending torn earth and rock flying everywhere. It bounced one, then came down again with an almost equally bone-jarring impact and hurled away more of the ground. It skidded to a stop, leaving an ugly scar in the turf behind it. In the wake of the crashing came a dread stillness, until the smaller Corps hovercar came in for a landing behind it and to one side.

  Upon landing the car, Brogan immediately messaged Corps headquarters in Talontown for backup. Then, to his companions, he said, “Let’s get out there and see what we’ve got.”

  “I already know what we’ve got. And I know what condition it had better be in, or a certain female is going to be the sorriest dragon that ever lived,” said Tynan. Then, to Daxav: “What are you picking up from inside that ship now?”

  “The same number of minds. No blank spaces that would indicate a fatality. One is unconscious; one is stunned. Liona and Kharno are shaken. The human female, Sierra, is shaken, but not in pain. I don’t believe she’s injured.”

  “Good,” said Tynan, drawing his powerblade and making himself ready. “Stay here, Daxav; no reason for you to go out. We’ll take this.”

  Well, that was nasty, thought Sierra, shaking the stars out of her head and quickly glancing around to get a look at the status of the passenger compartment, in which the lights flickered and strobed and finally turned half-dim. Her two traveling companions had been strapped in, but not as securely as she was. One was unconscious on the floor; the other, even more dazed than Sierra, fumbled his way out of his straps, looking as if he would not so much stand up as stagger when he got to his feet.

&nb
sp; And that was when the restraints on Sierra’s chair popped all the way open, undone by the power fluctuations from the crash.

  Sierra knew that she had only seconds in which to move and not give the one conscious Chithisian an opportunity to move against her. Even as that one fixed his groggy eyes on her and reacted, she was out of her chair and on the floor. The slaver made an incoherent rumbling sound of aggression, pulling himself to his feet—staggering and swaying, exactly as Sierra expected—and reached awkwardly for his whip.

  His awkwardness worked in Sierra’s favor, giving her the precious fractions of a second in which to find his friend’s whip, draw it out of its holster, and hit what she guessed was the switch to turn it on. She guessed correctly; the length of metal braid began to glow and hum while she grasped the handle.