Sovran's Pawn (The Black Wing Chronicles Book 1)

by JC Cassels

  Squeezing his eyes shut, relief washed over him and he slowly let out the breath he’d been holding. Sharp pain stabbed at his side where the stun bat had done its work on his ribs. He winced and gingerly probed his side with his fingers, feeling around to assess the extent of his injury. Satisfied that the break was minor, he dismissed the pain and relaxed back against the chair once more.

  She wasn’t in the clear yet, not by a long stretch. He needed to raid the infirmary for the meds, treatments and equipment he would need. Bracing his forearms on his knees he stared unseeing at her for a long moment, waiting for the initial rush of adrenaline to fade.

  “Why did it have to be ditoxicin?” he whispered.

  The two note melody of someone requesting entry broke the silence. Climbing slowly to his feet, he drew his blaster from its holster under his left arm. He stepped quickly to the door and flattened himself against the wall to one side. With his weapon at the ready, he touched the controls and the door slid open.

  “Holy Maker!”

  His attention on the naked woman on the floor, Chase stepped through, not stopping until he felt the bore of the blaster against his skull. He stilled and slowly spread his hands wide.

  “It’s just me, Dev,” he said. “I’m alone.”

  Blade relaxed his aim and stepped away from the wall.

  Chase turned and studied him with a mixture of pity and sorrow. “Geez, little brother, what the hell is wrong with you? What did you do to her?”

  Blade holstered his weapon. As he did so, he noticed the dampness on his jacket. Muttering a curse, he shrugged out of the garment and tossed it on the floor as if it were on fire. He snatched up the medical scanner and ran a quick scan of his jacket.

  “I’m going to have to incinerate that, too,” he said. “Damn! I liked that jacket.”

  Lifting his forearm, Chase dabbed at a cut on his cheek with his sleeve. “Start from the beginning, please. Why are we burning your clothes? And why is there an unconscious naked Joy Babe on your floor?”

  Blade pulled a few items out of the medipak and went to stand in front of his brother. “Here, let me take a look.”

  He quickly inventoried his brother’s injuries, relieved to find nothing major.

  “She was involved in a hit.”

  “A hit? You mean like a contract killing kind of a hit?”

  “That’s why they say you’re the smart one,” Blade said with a small smile. “Yeah, that kind of hit.”

  “You mean her?” Chase pointed to the woman on the floor. “She’s an assassin?”

  Blade shook his head. “No, I can’t tell if she was the target or if she stumbled into it. There was this methane breather, or a guy in a methane breather suit… he had a chemical weapon. He blew the whole thing in her face.”

  “What kind of chemical weapon?”

  “The bad kind,” Blade said. “The kind that, on a long-enough voyage, could take out everyone on this boat if it got into the ventilation system.”

  Chase stared at him a moment, processing what he was saying. “So let’s torch the coat.”

  None-too-gently, Blade slapped a synthiflesh patch over the cut on his brother’s face. Chase winced as it adhered and melted into place.

  “I plan to. I need you to stay here with her while I go do that and raid the infirmary.”

  “What if she comes to? What do I tell her? She’s bound to notice that she’s… you know.”

  “She’s not coming to,” Blade said. “She’s in stasis. Don’t touch her… most especially don’t touch that device on her chest. It’s a medical stasis field generator.”

  “You put her in stasis?”

  “It was either that or watch her die.”

  “And you want me to stay here? With her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s naked.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is it normal for Joy Babes to have weapons strapped to their legs?”

  “What?” Blade looked back at the unconscious woman, noticing for the first time the palm blaster strapped to one thigh and the throwing knives strapped to her other leg.

  “No, that’s not normal,” he said. “Not normal at all.”

  “Can I at least, you know, put a blanket over her? I know she’s just a hunk of meat to you, but…it’s really not right to leave her there like that.”

  “I’ll do it,” Blade said. “If you dislodge the stasis generator, she’ll be dead before I can get back. Believe me, you don’t want to watch someone die of ditoxicin exposure.”

  Trying not to look at the naked woman on his floor, he shrugged out of the shoulder holster and tossed it into the chair as he passed.

  “Hey, Dev, is she going to be okay?”

  Blade’s jaw clenched. He shrugged and shook his head. Avoiding his brother’s curious stare, he pulled off his shirt and, kneeling down beside her, he carefully covered her with it. He could have used a blanket. He probably should have, but he wanted his brother to know he was staking his claim on her. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was his and there were some things he didn’t like to share.

  Pushing that thought away, he rose and returned to his brother’s side. Curling his fingers in his hair, he tugged, prying the short, dark wig loose.

  Without turning, Chase reached down and opened the top dresser drawer. Reaching in, he thumbed a switch and the lid of a small oblong satchel swung open. He expectantly held out his hand and Blade passed the wig to him, along with the tight skullcap that held his own hair out of the way. Freed from that part of his disguise, he ran his fingers through his blond hair, rubbing some feeling back into his scalp.

  “Shades?”

  Blade passed the sunshades to him, then pried off the fleshy patches that altered the shape of his face just enough to divert facial recognition surveillance to the Darien Roarke alias. He slipped an ornate silver ring from his finger, and removed the expensive wrist chrono as well, handing them to his brother.

  He headed into the lav where he thoroughly scrubbed his hands and face, removing the last traces of Darien Roarke. Water dripping from his face and clinging to his hair, he met his reflection in the mirror. Drawing a few deep breaths, he centered himself.

  He couldn’t afford emotion. Not yet. He’d bought her some time with the stasis field, but it wasn’t a permanent solution. He still had work to do. He could break later. Slowly, he straightened and dried himself with a white towel before tossing it aside.

  “Whatever you do, Chase, do not touch her,” he warned, stepping through the door of the lav.

  Kneeling on the floor beside her, Chase pulled back his hand with a guilty smile.

  Blade skirted past his brother, pulling a faded gray sweater from the open drawer.

  “Don’t let anyone in here. I haven’t ordered anything in.”

  He pulled the sweater over his head and reached for the shoulder holster, slipping his arms into the loops. “There’s a palm blaster stuck to the underside of that table,” he said, nodding towards the small side table between the two overstuffed chairs. “If anyone forces their way in, shoot to kill.”

  He pulled a weathered black leather jacket from a hook behind the door and fished through the pockets for a pair of gloves of the same material. He slipped the gloves on then shoved his arms into the jacket.

  “I won’t be long,” he said. Kneeling down he picked up his dinner jacket and rifled through the garment, removing finance cards, throwing knives and a few other pieces of equipment, setting them on the dresser.

  “You know, you can always take her to the infirmary rather than break in and bring the infirmary here,” Chase said.

  Blade shook his head. “No, I really can’t.” He pulled a knit hat over his head. He’d wait to cover his face. It was bad enough that Chase thought him paranoid and delusional. He didn’t want to give his brother any further reason to worry for his sanity.

  “Dev, has it occurred to you that what you’re doing is tantamount to kidnapping?”
/>   Blade wrapped his jacket around her clothes. Turning he grinned at his brother. “Unless I’m right and there’s an assassin on board. In that case I’m a big damn hero. Sit tight until I get back and don’t…”

  “I know, I know, don’t touch her. I’ve got it. You go commit your felony. We’ll be here when you get back.”

  With one last glance at her pale face, Blade slipped out of his stateroom. Conscious of the security cams in the corridors, he kept his face averted from their sight lines, pausing only to drop the garments into an incinerator port.

  The infirmary was a hub of activity, given the recent brawl. His eyes narrowed as he watched the steady flow of injured through the door. The simple burglary he’d counted on wouldn’t be possible. He smiled to himself. There was, however, another more subtle plan of attack.

  Pulling a comb from his pocket, he removed the cap from his head and quickly combed his still-damp hair into a slick, conservative style. Shoving the comb back into his pocket along with the hat, he strode through the door of the infirmary, quickly memorizing the layout. Taking advantage of the confusion, he made his way through the door from triage to treatment.

  As he passed the break room, he paused long enough to slip on a blue medic’s coat that someone had left hanging near the door. Stripping off his leather gloves, he tucked them away and, without breaking stride, plucked a pair of disposable medical gloves from a pack hanging on the wall. Passing a low counter he scooped up a pair of reading glasses and a data pad. He donned the glasses and slid them low, so he could easily see over them. He pocketed a medical scanner from a tray.

  “Oh, good, you’re free,” a hand closed over his arm, dragging him towards an examination room.

  Blade looked over the glasses at the medical assistant attached to that hand and knew better than to argue. Very attractive, in her late forties, she had the brusque efficiency of a woman who had considerable experience dealing with flighty young doctors and would brook no excuse. He liked her immediately.

  “I’ve got a list of supplies I need for a few other patients,” Blade said.

  She indicated the data pad in his hand. “Put it in the queue and I’ll see that it gets expedited,” she said. “Just get this guy out of here, please. If he tries to grope me one more time…” She shook her head. “What’s your name?”

  “Doctor Mor,” Blade said with a smile. “Eben, please.”

  Some of her harried demeanor faded under his charm. “Eben,” she smiled. “You get this guy out of here and I’ll personally see to it that you have everything on your list.”

  “Thank you…”

  “Inda,” she said. Reaching out, she tapped a command on his data pad. “There you go. Go get him.” With one hand on his back, she shoved him into the exam room.

  Blade glanced down at the patient file on the readout as he entered.

  “Mister… Namu? I’m Doctor Mor. What seems to be the trouble?”

  Blade looked up. It took all of his self-control not to react. Of all the patients, he had to get the client of the Joy Babe he’d kidnapped… er, rescued.

  “Well, I’m not a learned doctor like yourself, but I’ll take a flying crack at it and say that some guys beat the shit out of me.”

  Blade took stock of the man’s injuries. “Well, at first glance, I’d say that’s a pretty fair assessment of your condition,” he said. He smiled that bland, distant smile that most medical professionals used. “Let’s take a closer look, and see if we can’t get something more definite, shall we?”

  Pulling the medical scanner from his pocket, he switched it on and studied the results. His eyes narrowed as the genetic code played across the initial scan readout. He isolated the coding and saved it.

  “Have we met?” Namu tilted his head to get a better look through his swelling eyes.

  “It’s possible,” Blade said, not looking up from the scanner.

  “You’re not one of the ship’s doctors are you?”

  Blade shook his head. “My specialty is labor and delivery,” he said. “My wife and I are here for our anniversary.” He gestured absently. “When they had this emergency crop up, they called in all medically trained passengers to help sort it all out. Tell me, Mister Namu, are you having any trouble breathing?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I’m seeing some indication of cracked or broken ribs. Can you lie back please?”

  Blade helped the man recline and continued his exam. Finding no life-threatening injuries, he repaired the cracked ribs and pocketed the bone fuser for use on himself later.

  “Hey, doc, I’m looking for my niece. We got separated when this mess started and I haven’t seen her since. Has anyone…”

  “I haven’t treated any women this evening,” Blade said. …not yet.

  Namu’s shoulders sagged. Blade couldn’t tell, but the man actually looked concerned.

  “What’s her name? If she comes in, I can have you contacted.”

  “Marissa Kiara.”

  “Kiara? Your niece is a Joy Babe?”

  Namu nodded. “Yeah. She’s a Joy Babe. Yeah, she’s really my niece and I’m worried about her.”

  That made two of them.

  Blade switched off the scanner, and logged his findings and recommended treatments into the data pad.

  “Well, Mister Namu, you should be fine in a day or so. Take it easy until your ribs have had a chance to knit together. The swelling should be gone by tomorrow. If you have any problems come back here and the staff will take care of you.”

  “That’s it?”

  Blade smiled and peered over the glasses at him. “Unless you’d like a pelvic exam, I’d say we’re done here.”

  Rising, Blade extended his hand and the two men shook hands. “Enjoy the rest of the voyage Mister Namu. I hope you find your niece.”

  Without wasting any more time, Blade slipped out of the exam room. Inda caught him almost immediately.

  “So did you get rid of him?”

  “He’s on his way out the door,” Blade assured her.

  She smiled and held up a tray filled with the supplies he’d requisitioned. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  Blade took the tray from her. He spied the employee exit on the opposite side of the break room. “I appreciate this,” he said.

  Someone called Inda’s name, drawing her attention.

  “Please excuse me, I’ve got another crisis to manage,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze. She strode briskly off to deal with the situation.

  Not wasting any more time, Blade glanced over his bounty, noting that Inda had indeed compiled everything he needed. Ducking into the lounge, he set the data pad on a table along with the glasses. He shrugged out of the coat and left it draped across a chair. On the way out the door, he stripped off the medical gloves and tossed them into the nearest incinerator drop. Pausing only long enough to pull the cap back on his head and don the leather gloves once more, he set off down the corridor, tucking items from the tray into his pockets as he went.

  With any luck, he’d have Marissa Kiara’s condition stabilized quickly.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “You’re working for them?” a male voice snapped in a hushed tone. “I knew this was too good to be true.”

  Disoriented and groggy, Bo struggled for consciousness. The voices floated around her, disjointed and unrecognizable.

  “Keep your voice down,” another male voice replied in an equally hushed tone.

  “You promised me you’d quit!”

  “I did quit!”

  “Then why…”

  “They contacted me. What was I supposed to do? It’s not like I could say no. They don’t exactly ask nicely when they want you to work for them.”

  “You’ve built a name for yourself – a career! A very lucrative one at that!”

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  “What if something happens to you? You’re supposed to be starting a new project in a few weeks.”

  “N
othing’s going to happen to me. This job is a cakewalk. They picked me because they needed an established competitive Five-Point player. Aside from that, it could have been any number cruncher in their roster. I just happened to be the lucky bastard with the reputation for Five-Point…” the voice trailed off. “She’s waking up. You’d better get out of here.”

  After a moment, the door opened and shut. Bo heard fabric rustling and felt a strong male presence beside her.

  “Just keep breathing as normally as possible,” he said in Toban. “I’m adjusting the mix on your respirator.”

  Bo lifted her hand to her face, noticing for the first time the mask over her nose and mouth. She tried to pull it away, but his hand closed over hers.

  “I know you’re a little disoriented,” he said. “You caught a concentrated dose of ditoxicin in the face. Do you know what that is?”

  She tried to shake her head, but it felt like it was stuffed with wet towels. Bo tried to speak, but she ended up coughing.

  “It’s a chemical weapon,” he explained. “The key is to not let it sit on tissue for very long. I’ve repaired the damage as best I could. I don’t believe you’ll have any permanent injury, but for now, your eyes and your respiratory system are badly burned. I’m going to have to keep you here under observation for a while.”

  No, she had to find Royce. Bo tried to lever herself off the bed, but he easily pushed her back down onto the mattress. She felt a slight pinch on the side of her neck before she melted bonelessly into blackness.

  ***

  He watched her as she slept.

  From the moment he first saw her silhouetted against the window in the embarkation lounge, he had known she would end up in his bed. He didn’t plan on letting her die there. Pale and small, she was still the only bit of color in the middle of his bed. Her long brown hair spread out across his white pillow like a tawny river. He ached to touch her, to stroke her hair and coax a smile to her lips, reddened by the chemicals that burned her tender flesh and threatened to destroy her from the inside out.

  More than once during the long vigil, he’d caught himself timing his own breathing to match the steady hiss and click of the stolen respirator. No groan, no whimper, no matter how small, had gone unnoticed. The worst had passed. The rattling in her chest as she wheezed in and out had eased to a more normal sound. Her small frame still struggled for each breath. He struggled with her. His chest ached with the memory of his own experience with the battle she was fighting.