by Gun Brooke
Emeron guffawed. “Not likely.”
Dwyn shrugged and kept walking. “We’ll see.”
Birds, which had been silent for a long time after the bot attack, began to chirp as they walked. Keeping a sharp eye on her surroundings and listening for the telltale whine and buzz of the bots, Dwyn still enjoyed the fresh air and the smell of exotic flowers that blossomed high above them. It was dark, since the trees cut out most of the sunlight. But the cooler temperatures were delightful, and Dwyn greedily inhaled the sweet-scented oxygen.
They walked undisturbed for another couple of hours before Jacelon signaled for everyone to stop. “Let’s take a few moments to rest,” she said, and approached Oches. “Ensign, I need to use the communication device to be sure the pulse didn’t disturb our instruments and send us off course.”
Oches pulled off his back-strap security carrier and set up the portable communication center. “There you go, ma’am.” He stepped away to give her privacy.
“It’s all right, this isn’t classified.” Jacelon motioned for everybody to sit on fallen trunks and rocks around her. Dwyn gratefully sank onto an impressive trunk and rested against a broken branch. Closing her eyes, she listened to Jacelon and the protector begin the procedure of reporting in to SC headquarters.
“SC HQ, come in. I repeat, SC HQ, come in.” The protector repeated the command several times, receiving only static. “Perhaps we’re too far into the forest, Rae.”
Emeron joined them and said, “Keep trying. I’ll adjust the frequency. It’s old technology, and it has its quirks.”
“Really.” Jacelon looked in bemusement at the communication center.
Emeron adjusted the settings several times before the protector finally received a slightly garbled response.
“Lt. Commander O’Dal here.” The protector leaned closer. “Come in, HQ, try again.”
“SC HQ here. Over.”
“That’s better.” Jacelon grabbed the microphone and spoke quickly. “Admiral Jacelon here. Are we on a secure channel?”
“Scrambling now.” There was a brief silence. “We’re secure. Go ahead, ma’am.”
“Alex. Good to hear your voice. We’ve had some adventures here, since we left the Disian village.” She described the bot attack and the measures they had taken to defend themselves. “We were slightly delayed, but we’ve made good time today. I need to verify our position via satellite systems and sensors.”
“Stand by, Admiral. Verifying.”
Jacelon bent forward as a chirping sound emanated from the communicator. “Is it supposed to do that?” she asked Emeron.
“Yes, ma’am. Sorry. It’s old.”
“As long as it works.”
“Admiral. Your position is 40-33-64-10-10 point 32. From where we’re sitting, that puts you right on track. We’ve seen movement about eight hours in front of you. If that’s the mercenaries, they’re traveling slower than before. Perhaps their injuries are taking a toll.”
“That’s plausible,” Jacelon said quietly.
“Oh, damn it, Rae, I’m sorry. I hope Dahlia is all right.” The “Alex” on the other end sounded mortified. “I didn’t mean to sound so callous.”
“Don’t worry about it. I hope some of them are incapacitated, which might make it possible for us to catch up.”
“Everyone on your team in one piece?”
“We have mostly minor injuries. However, one of the civilians has damaged lungs and may need an emergency MEDEVAC if her condition worsens. I don’t care about the Thousand Year Pact in this instance. If we signal for a MEDEVAC I want it here within an hour.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jacelon glanced at the protector. “How are the kids doing?”
“Eh, ma’am. I was getting to that.” The trepidation in Alex’s voice was clear even to Dwyn, who saw Jacelon and the protector exchange frowns and worried glances.
“What’s going on?” Jacelon demanded.
“There was an incident at the hotel. Everyone’s safe and secure, but we flew the young people and your father to the court ship in orbit.”
“Who authorized that?” Jacelon barked.
“Judge Beqq suggested it to the admiral, and he agreed. Young Armeo’s curiosity got the better of him, and a crowd spotted him.”
“Where was Ayahliss?” the protector asked.
“Right there with him, shielding him fiercely. Luckily for all, Judge Beqq found them before she took someone out with her gan’thet techniques.”
“Gods of Gantharat.” The protector sighed.
“But they’re all right?” Jacelon’s knuckles tightened on the hand that held the microphone.
“Yes. Don’t worry about Armeo or Ayahliss. Things are under control.”
“Okay. We’re staying on our present course. Keep a sensor lock on us, to make sure we don’t deviate from it. If so, try to page us. And let my father know that we checked in.”
“Affirmative, ma’am. Already sent him a message.”
“Good. Jacelon out.” The admiral tucked the microphone away and handed the communication center to Oches. “You heard. We’re on track and hopefully going to reach M’Ekar and the mercenaries within the next twelve hours or so. We’re not sure how many of them survived, other than what the Disians estimated. They probably outnumber us, but because they’re injured and probably not so well armed, we should have the advantage.”
“And the element of surprise,” Emeron added. “They can’t be certain someone’s on their trail.”
“True.”
“Ma’am,” Ensign Noor called from the other side of the small clearing. “Over here, ma’am.”
Jacelon rose and hurried over to the excited ensign, followed by the protector and Emeron. Dwyn joined them as they stared at the sensor readings Noor had just obtained.
“That’s not an indigenous metal.” Noor lowered her sensor device. “I’ve seen this reading before, but it just occurred to me that it may be related to our mission.” She made a wry face. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“We can check the memory buffer on your sensor and see how many of these you recorded.” Jacelon knelt and lowered the sensor until it gave a distinct, high-pitched tone. She felt around in the undergrowth and, with a triumphant smile, held up a small golden link, which to Dwyn looked like part of a bracelet or necklace.
“My mother wears gold jewelry all the time,” Jacelon said, looking up at the protector. “If she’s dropping hints, she must be doing fairly well and hoping we’ll be able to rescue her.”
“Dahlia is resourceful,” the protector said, a faint smile on her face.
Dwyn had never seen the protector smile, and if she had been arresting in all her serious aloofness, much like Emeron, now she was stunningly beautiful. It was clear why Jacelon looked at her the way she did.
“Set your scanner to search for this exact metal, Ensign.” Jacelon rose and brushed herself off. “Now we have one more way to make sure we’re on track. Also, look for signs of wounded people.” She dragged her hand through her short red hair, a thoughtful expression on her face. After a moment, she turned to the young Disians.
“How is the tracking going?”
“I have lost the trail a few times, but not Yhja. She is better than I am,” Trom said shyly. “She can find the smallest creature very quickly.”
“I see. Do you agree that we are on track, Yhja?”
“Yes, Admiral.” Yhja’s voice was sweet and nearly inaudible. “We are tracking somewhere between fifteen and twenty people, both male and female, some injured.”
Dwyn looked at Yhja with surprise. The young girl, so shy and so petite, even next to Jacelon, who wasn’t very tall, seemed suddenly very sure of herself.
“Excellent. Is there any trace of anyone being dragged, killed, or otherwise in trouble?”
“On several occasions, there have been signs of frequent stops, as if they needed to rest. And some of them are injured. Some are dragging a leg, some are making very un
even imprints as they walk. I have seen traces of blood and other bodily fluids also.” Yhja looked very matter-of-fact, but Dwyn could see her reach for Trom’s hand. “The one taking the lead is most likely female, since her tracks are smaller than those of many men.”
“Good. Let’s not waste any more time. Those of you who haven’t eaten yet will have to down a ration bar or two as we move out. Come on, people.” Jacelon motioned for Emeron to take the lead, followed by Trom and Yhja. Dwyn walked right behind them, chewing on a dry, tasteless bar. Emeron glanced back at her every time the narrow path took a new turn or the terrain shifted.
Dwyn tried to read the expression in her eyes, but decided that Emeron was probably being thorough and carrying out both her assignments at the same time. Still, a part of her warmed to the quiet concern in Emeron’s eyes, and it was hard not to respond with reassuring smiles. Instead, she acted as if she didn’t notice Emeron’s glances and kept her weapon raised and ready in case they stumbled into trouble again. She didn’t want anyone to worry that she couldn’t take care of herself.
*
“Not again,” White exclaimed, and stomped over to where M’Ekar had collapsed with a thud. “He’s slowing us down too much. I say we get rid of him and take our chances that she will be worth enough to help us escape this hellhole.” She glared at Dahlia, who’d caught M’Ekar as he fell, preventing him from hitting his head against a fallen tree trunk.
“You’re out of line, White. Back off.” Weiss had joined them and stared at M’Ekar with narrowing eyes. “You better not be trying to fool me, Ambassador.”
“I can’t walk any farther.” He gasped. “My leg is killing me. It’s burning like fire, and I’ve lost feeling in some parts of it.”
“He’s in bad shape, Weiss,” Dahlia said seriously. “I’m afraid gangrene has set in. We don’t have any more clean bandages. I have one more dose of the medication left and one more of painkiller. You should leave us behind and try to reach your goal without us. I’ll take care of him.”
“I don’t think so.” Weiss grinned joylessly. “As much as I hate to admit it, White has a point. You’re the valuable asset here. M’Ekar’s future in the Onotharian Empire is questionable at best. You, and the intel you’re privy to, however, are priceless. So, no, we’re not leaving without you. My men have rested and can carry him for a bit.” Weiss motioned to the two men who’d transported M’Ekar earlier. “Construct a makeshift stretcher, quickly. We need to reach our rendezvous point within ten hours. I don’t have to remind you all that we won’t get a second chance.”
“Aye, Captain.” It took the men only a few moments to cut down two long, narrow branches and braid some strong ferns between them. They placed the groaning, now semiconscious M’Ekar onto it and lifted it effortlessly. Dahlia surmised that they’d recovered better than most of the others.
“He’s in terrible condition anyway.” She knew she had to be the voice of reason, even if nobody listened. “Is this how you show allegiance to the one who’s paying for your mission?”
“His contribution is minor. Nice, but humble, I suppose you could say,” Weiss said, and produced her trademark unfeeling smile again. “You are another matter. But don’t think that allows you to get away with anything. If you try to run, I’ll shoot you in the back.”
Dahlia had come across her fair share of callous people, but this comment, uttered with such indifference to humanoid life, was one of the most frightening things she’d ever heard.
“You would, wouldn’t you?” she said, her own voice just as cold as Weiss’s. “You would shoot a woman for personal greed and not think twice about it. What a prize fool you are. What a sorry excuse for a living being. What a waste of a keen mind. I feel sorry for you.” She easily injected all the contempt she felt for Weiss Kyakh into her voice, making sure she spoke loudly enough for all the other mercenaries to hear.
Weiss stared at her, fuming, obviously at a loss for words. Recovering quickly, she looked scornfully at Dahlia. “You’re entitled to your opinion, Diplomat Jacelon, but once you’re in Onotharian hands and I retire with enough assets to keep me in a very comfortable lifestyle, I’m sure I’ll get over the fact that you don’t regard my character highly.”
Dahlia filed several things away for future reference. Weiss planned to retire. Why? Had she had enough of her renegade lifestyle? Had she accumulated enough wealth or power? Unless she was mistaken, the outlaw looked faintly haunted. Not someone to romanticize anyone so despicable, she was still curious why. There was, however, no reason to doubt Weiss’s intentions. She would easily sacrifice M’Ekar the next time his condition slowed them down, and she was determined to hand her over to the Onotharians for a very handsome reward.
Dahlia sighed as she stood, but only after breaking a few twigs behind her back and tying them into a neat bow. She had no way of knowing if any of her signs had been detected or, if so, by whom, but she had to keep trying. The thought of ending up in an Onotharian interrogation room, knowing more than she cared to about their methods, didn’t appeal to her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rae ducked under a low branch, trying to keep to one side of the narrow forest path. The soggy ground made walking difficult. The mud sucked at her feet like a thousand greedy leeches, but she was determined to catch up with the mercenaries and her mother before dusk. Checking her chronometer, she found that they had less time than she thought. The terrain had been unforgiving, but she knew the kidnappers were in the same situation. They had discovered two more pieces of gold, and Trom and Yhja had pointed out broken twigs, some even turned into knots, which had raised Rae’s hope of finding her mother.
“We need a short break,” Emeron D’Artansis said just behind her. “Several of the junior officers’ boots are filled with this damn mud, and their feet are hurting. If we don’t stop to remedy that—”
“—they’ll be in trouble farther along the line.”
“Yes.”
“How’s Dwyn doing? I heard her cough earlier.” Rae admired the stamina Dwyn displayed as she kept pace with the rest of them despite her injured lungs.
“She insists that she’s fine, but it’s clear to me that she’s struggling to keep up.”
“One more reason for us to take a moment,” Rae said. “If she crumbles—”
“She won’t.” D’Artansis spoke somberly.
“Okay.” Rae raised her fist in the air, signaling for everyone to stop. Kellen joined her, glancing at D’Artansis, who now hovered over Dwyn.
“Is she all right?” Kellen nodded in Dwyn’s direction.
“Yes, I think so. D’Artansis is keeping an eye on her. Something tells me Dwyn isn’t the type who complains about her own wellbeing.”
“She reminds me of someone else,” Kellen said, and looked pointedly at Rae. “Perhaps all humans minimize injuries or illness.”
“Oh, well, perhaps.” Rae knew that her own track record spoke for itself. She was a terrible patient, infamous for having exasperated almost every medical officer who had attempted to treat her or even perform a physical.
Rae pinched Kellen surreptitiously as she walked past her toward Owena, Leanne, and the two marines. “I want you to scan the area for any signs of nonindigenous substances or materials.”
She turned to the young Disians next. “Yhja, Trom, survey the small clearing west of the path and, also, the rocks on the other side. If we’re having problems walking in this water-soaked clay, the mercenaries are too, especially if they have wounded.”
The marines pulled out their scanning devices and began to sweep the immediate area. Noor and Oches accompanied Trom and Yhja without Rae having to order them to. Owena and Leanne helped the most junior of D’Artansis’s team fill up everyone’s water container. The water purifier turned the muddy clay clear and drinkable, a process that always amazed Rae.
“Admiral?” Dwyn said, and approached Rae after she sat down on a log to study the latest intel the SC HQ had sent to her handheld com
puter. “Is it all right if I disturb you for a moment?”
“Sure. What’s up?” Rae studied Dwyn’s pale features. Everything in her face was small, except her large, silver-gray eyes. Her transparent skin held a grayish undertone, which suggested she wasn’t doing entirely well. The strong sense of character that shone from her shimmering eyes showed no weakness whatsoever. In fact, something within this young woman reminded Rae of her younger self. Perhaps it was the desire to prove herself to those who judged her—by her size or by her family’s position. She believed everyone should do things by the book and that there was a right and a wrong way to do them. These convictions permeated every cell in her body. That was before Kellen came blasting into my life. Literally.
“Everyone seems to be watching me, wondering when I’ll drop dead or at least become ill enough to cause delays and other problems.” The directness in Dwyn’s words surprised her, though it shouldn’t have when she reconsidered their similarities.
“We’re concerned for you, naturally. The condition of your lungs is serious. We have limited ways to help you out here, if you become worse.”
“Ah.” Dwyn sucked her lower lip between her teeth. “That’s just it. Your concern slows everybody down, and ultimately it’s not going to change a damn thing.”
“What do you mean?” She didn’t like the way the conversation was going.
“I mean, no matter what, if I deteriorate, you’re helpless. If my lungs give in, clog up, or whatever can happen to them, no one can do anything. It’s only logical to conduct this mission as you would have if I was unharmed or not part of it. You never bargained on having a civilian along, much less an injured one. It’s bad enough for you to have to worry about your mother, Admiral.” Dwyn smiled wryly. “I realize what’s at stake. I may be working in a totally different field, but it’s also my job to stay aware of the current political climate. Politics directly impacts our worlds, their inhabitants and environments.
