Dark Minds (Class 5 Series Book 3)

by Michelle Diener

  He nodded, a tight, quick up and down, and she turned as Cam took her hand again and drew her off down the street to their left.

  It reminded her of the narrow, twisty streets of France and Spain, and for the same reasons, she guessed. The tiny villages perched on the hilltops only had so much space——every inch was precious——and that was the same here. Larga Ways could only go upward, not sideways.

  “Where are we going?” She was slowing him down, she knew, but everything was so interesting and truly beautiful. Larga Ways was the quintessential bijoux city.

  She imagined the apartments were tiny and expensive as hell, and Cam had told her no runners or vehicles of any kind were allowed on the streets, except for delivery vehicles.

  Cam gave her hand a tug. “We need to find the Battle Center offices. If we get a straight run there, all this sneaking around will be over.”

  Although they weren't really sneaking. There were other people walking around, and she thought they blended pretty well. Imogen could see who was a Larga Ways inhabitant or here for a holiday because they dressed in bright colors and in long garments with multiple layers. The traders and people just arrived on space vessels were all dressed like Cam and herself, in fitted trousers and shirts that looked vaguely like a uniform.

  They passed a woman with a tiny creature attached to a shimmering lead.

  “Ooh.” She tugged Cam's arm. “What's that cute thing?”

  “A kapoot.” He barely looked at it, his eyes moving all the time, his focus on potential threats.

  She knew they were in danger, that they were on the cusp of a nasty war, but she let the cuteness of the kapoot warm her anyway. Otherwise, what was the point of it all?

  Cleese had done that for her, too. The blue and yellow macaw had kept her sane in the Balco facility, and the sly game of insults she'd taught him, directed at their guards, had kept her spirit strong and rebellious. He was her compatriot, and she hoped he was okay, that he hadn't died or been killed.

  They wound through alleys that would have been dark, because of the height of the buildings on either side, and the angle of the Balcoan sun, but which weren't because lighting had been incorporated into the designs on the walls themselves, a fairy light wonderland of jewel colors and magical design.

  “You like it.” Cam tugged her hand again, and grinned when she shot him an exasperated look at being hurried along. He fit right in to this place, looking like a muscle-bound elf in his magical kingdom.

  “I love it.” Paxe should be ashamed of himself for trying to blow it up. She was determined that she would have a chance to tell him so, that he would be okay, would live to regret this poor decision, and would somehow outsmart the Tecran holding him to ransom with his own life.

  Cam had gone quiet, and she pulled her attention from the mosaic of an exotic, alien forest on the wall running beside them to glance over at him.

  “What is it?” He was looking at her strangely, and she stopped, forced him to stop too as she tightened her grip on his hand.

  “You are fascinating.”

  She tipped her head back, heart hammering in her chest, and looked at him through half-closed lids. “What did I say about goo-goo eyes?”

  He didn't smile as she thought he would. “I don't think I can help the goo-goo eyes. It's too late.”

  “Because I can sing?” It was okay if part of it was because she could sing. Part of her attraction to him was his strength and the way he moved, and that was similar, in her mind, to singing. It didn't come completely naturally, it had to be worked at. And now that she was hooked, if he had a terrible accident and couldn't move anymore with the same stealthy grace, her attraction wouldn't die. So it was okay if singing was part of it, but it couldn't be everything.

  “It's the way you talk, the way you sing, your generous heart, the smooth shine in your hair, the unbelievable depth of your courage——”

  A big group of tourists descended on them from behind, and Imogen stepped into his arms and let him pull them up against the wall to get out of the way. The sound of twenty excited Balcoans all talking at once washed over them and then the way was clear again.

  She closed her eyes and got a tight hold around his waist, burying her face in his chest.

  “You'll have to stop doing that.” His voice sounded strained, and she loosened her grip and stepped back a little, dropping her arms.

  “Public displays of affection not allowed?” she asked, and then noticed they were being watched by a Grihan man who'd just stepped out of the entrance to a blue glass apartment block with a design on it that looked like it had been enameled by a master jeweler.

  “No, it's that in that hat, being so short, you look too young for me.”

  She'd forgotten. Totally forgotten that she was pretending to be a Grihan teenager. She bit her bottom lip. “Sorry.”

  He shook his head. “I shouldn't have——”

  “No.” She glanced over at their watcher, but he was gone. Still, she only took his hand. “You can say that kind of thing to me whenever you want.” Her voice wobbled as she spoke. His words touched her so deeply, she could barely hold on to pieces of herself, they wanted to wrench free of her body and fly out and up. She couldn't reciprocate, not without the possibility of crying, and now wasn't a good time to be sobbing and drawing attention. So she took a deep breath and tried to smile. “I want you to know that I'm not just interested in you because of the whole elf thing.”

  He swallowed back a laugh. “What?”

  “Sure, you have the whole brooding bad-ass Lord of the Forest thing down pat, but you are thoughtful, loyal and protective, too.”

  “Imogen . . .” He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

  She patted a bulging bicep and grinned. “You're quite fascinating yourself.” She gave him her best impression of goo-goo eyes.

  He choked, coughing into his hand, and straightened up. “I think we've gotten off track.”

  She nodded and touched her hat again. It had gone a bit skew when she'd rubbed up against Cam, and she fiddled with it. “Okay?” she asked.

  He nodded. Tugged it down a little on one side.

  “I'm ready, then.”

  “I think it's just through that archway, and down the street.” He kept hold of her hand, and they strolled, going slower than they had before. Being tourists, now.

  Cam was worried someone would be watching the Battle Center office. It would make sense that Tecran spies would keep their eyes on their enemies center of operations.

  So for the first time, they went at a pace that suited her perfectly, only now she was too nervous to notice the delicate plants in containers that twisted and curved along walls and around windows, and instead tried to casually look at the people around them.

  Some were sitting at tiny tables outside what was surely cafés, and she wondered wistfully if that was grinabo in the cups they held.

  She only noticed Cam had stopped moving when she was jerked to a stop. She turned, frowning, and saw he was looking at a building that had obviously been caught in the explosion.

  The first couple of floors were still standing, but something fiery and large must have landed on the roof and burnt through from the top down, collapsing part of the structure as it went.

  “Let me guess,” she said quietly. “That was the Battle Center office.”

  Chapter 31

  It wasn't as if time was on their side, but the destruction of the Battle Center office was shocking in and of itself, not just because it complicated their plans.

  Cam was excruciatingly aware that Oris was holding back a Fitalian battleship and waiting for them, the Tecran had at least one battleship out past the Balcoan system, holding his own team hostage there, and that Paxe was still fighting for his freedom somewhere, too. But people he knew had been in that building.

  He also thought someone was following them.

  There had been a small, robed man Cam had seen more than once on their way here, b
ut he was gone now. That might be because he'd switched off with someone else, or because there were lenses in this square. Or because he'd simply been going the same way as they had.

  Battle Center would have moved to a temporary office, but he had no idea how many staff had been killed in the explosion, and who was left that he might know and trust.

  He looked upward at the Illium, the massive Grihan battleship under the command of Captain Hal Vakeri, and knew that's where they needed to be.

  He could go to the Larga Ways security office and request a link up with Vakeri, but that meant awkward questions about how he'd arrived on Larga Ways.

  There was also a high chance there was some antagonism between the Balcoans and Vakeri. There had to be a Balcoan security officer in the Tecran camp. There was no way the Tecran spies could have gotten explosives onto the way station without it being an inside job, and the battleship captain had a reputation for being blunt.

  Things might well be strained between way station security and the Grihan forces.

  Going in and officially asking to speak to the captain of the Illium would expose Imogen and him to potential enemies with little chance of getting what they wanted anyway.

  He realized while he'd been looking blankly at the charred building and thinking through their options, Imogen had gently pulled him in the direction of one of the little cafés that lined the open square in front of the destroyed building, and now she angled out a chair at one of the tiny tables outside the door with a flourish for him to sit on.

  He sat, bemused, and she settled herself opposite him, the table so small their knees bumped and rubbed together.

  He waited for her to order, and then realized from her body language that she was expecting someone to serve them. It occurred to him that he kept forgetting she wasn't Grihan. That everything was new to her.

  It took her a few minutes to realize the menu was shown on the glass screen that made up the table top. Her delight when she realized was . . . shocking in its affect on him. It lit up her face and sparked a hot, all-consuming lust in him.

  He fought back his response, trying to keep focused, and waited for her to ask him how to use the menu to order, but she didn't. She gnawed briefly on her lower lip, which only heated the lust curling in his belly even more, and then worked it out.

  “Grinabo?” she asked him, finger hovering over the options.

  He nodded, and she tapped it in, then cocked her head as the payment request came up.

  She lifted her wrist, studied the credit bracelet Inita had given her before they'd disembarked, and then lowered it to the blue circle lit up from below.

  “Just like tap and go,” she said.

  Not once, in all the interactions he'd had with her, had he thought her of inferior intelligence or in any way backward. But he must have had a preconceived idea of her culture's state of advancement after all, because he was truly shocked at how easily she'd worked out what to do. It made him question everything he'd assumed up until now.

  “You have this system on Earth?” What the Tecran had done was unacceptable on every level, stealing an advanced sentient from her home, but there would have been some who might have been persuaded they'd made a mistake, because the line between advanced sentience and sentience was sometimes a blurry one. But no one could observe Imogen and not understand she was as advanced as the Grih. As every one of the United Council members. If and when Rose and Imogen, and Fiona Russell, too, appeared in the United Council court, there would be nowhere for the Tecran to hide.

  “We don't use a bracelet, we have a card, but it's a similar concept.” She turned as a server arrived with their order. “Looks like you were lucky to get away with no damage,” she said to the Balcoan woman, pointing across the road to the Battle Center building.

  The Balcoan looked sharply at her, seemed to study her more carefully than she had before, but nodded. “We were.”

  “Were many people killed over there?” Cam asked.

  “Five. And many more hurt.” The woman's silver eyes blinked a few times.

  “I'm so sorry.” Imogen touched her arm in a light, comforting gesture. “Is that company out of business now?”

  The server shook her head. “That was the Battle Center office, not a business.”

  Cam gripped his cup as she turned away. “I used to work for Battle Center. Where can I find them, see if anyone I knew was among those who were hurt or killed?”

  The Balcoan turned back slowly. “Larga Ways Security. That's where they've moved to.”

  “Thank you.” Imogen took a deep sip of her grinabo as the woman disappeared inside.

  “Drink up.” Cam swallowed back the contents.

  “We need to hurry?” Imogen gulped down some more.

  “I think she's on a comm device right now, letting someone know about us and our questions.”

  Imogen stood, and took a last, big gulp. “Okay, let's go.”

  They walked away without rushing, but Cam kept their pace at a steady, ground-eating clip. There were lenses focused on the streets of Larga Ways, in clear contrast to Grihan, and United Council, policy. After the Thinking System Wars, where lens feed had been used by thinking systems against the population, there had been such a backlash against it that the circumstances had to be exceptional to allow it. Even though two hundred years had past since the end of the Wars, that stance hadn't changed.

  The issue had been debated for months before Larga Ways was completed, but eventually it was agreed that at least in the main public areas and entry points, it would be allowed. The vulnerability of Larga Ways' gel tech to catastrophic breach was deemed exceptional enough.

  So they would need to keep to the back ways now, and think of how to get into the security building and find the Battle Center office.

  Cam looked down at Imogen, and realized he stood a much better chance of doing that alone.

  She stood out, no matter how much Inita's comms officer had protested that the hat was high fashion.

  It was mainly because of her breasts, he forced himself to admit.

  She was too curvy, too well-endowed, and her voice was too different.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked him, suspicion in her tone and her expression.

  “I think we need to separate, and I don't want to do it,” he said.

  She trailed her fingers along the raised pattern on the glass wall beside them, watching him with considering eyes. “I appreciate the honesty, and admit that while I can see the benefits of hiding me somewhere so I stop attracting attention, I also don't want to separate.”

  He should have realized she had also noticed that she wasn't as invisible as they needed her to be.

  He sighed. “If I go alone, I have a good chance of getting into Larga Ways' security office, and finding at least one Battle Center representative I know. From there, it should be easy.”

  They had stepped into another small square surrounded by stores and cafés, and the scent of cooking hung in the early-evening air.

  Imogen breathed in deeply. “Oh. My.” The look on her face was reverent.

  “What is it?” He stopped, pulling them out of the path of pedestrian traffic a little.

  “That smell. Proper food.” She breathed in again. “I have an idea. I go have dinner at that place right there,” she pointed to the tiny restaurant, “and you go save the world.”

  He couldn't resist kissing her. “That doesn't seem fair.”

  “Someone has to eat dinner. I'm self-sacrificing like that.” She kept a straight face as she spoke.

  “Well, if you're sure?”

  “Oh, go enjoy yourself. You know I don't mind doing the heavy lifting.”

  He laughed, burying his face in her neck and then gripping her arms. “Be careful. I'll come get you in an hour, no matter what happens. So don't move from there.”

  “Got it. And you be careful, too. Don't make me get out my whip and come get you.”

  He took his Battle
Center uniform out of her pack and then watched from the street until she'd taken a seat inside the restaurant, at one of four tiny tables he could see through the big window.

  He hadn't seen the man he'd suspected of following them earlier since they'd found Battle Center's office, and no one had followed them here. She should be safe.

  The depth of her bravery astounded him. She'd lightened the atmosphere, joked with him, all while she'd been deeply afraid of being on her own again. He'd seen it sitting, dark and huge, behind her smile.

  He knew this was the best plan and yet he had to force himself to walk away.

  And knew the only reason he was able to was because to do anything else was to doubt her courage.

  Chapter 32

  She didn't want to separate, but if she had to, this was at least a decent reason to do so.

  Imogen lifted the grilled meat on its little skewer to her mouth and bit down. Yum.

  She didn't know what kind of meat it was, and she didn't care. Her body was telling her it needed this, and was overjoyed at getting it.

  On the plate in front of her, there were also vegetables that had been char-grilled over an open flame, something a little like a sweet pepper, only a disconcerting brown, and something pale green, crunchy, and fresh, that didn't taste like much to her, but didn't taste bad, either.

  The restaurant was full, every table held two or more people, and there was a small group milling around outside that Imogen guessed were waiting for a table to become free.

  There was no back room or rear exit, the kitchen was part of the restaurant, separated from the tables by a long counter, and twice suppliers had wended their way past the tightly-packed tables carrying in boxes of ingredients.

  “You like our food?” The woman who came to clear some of the dishes away was tall and thin, with dark skin. She had the silver eyes of a Balcoan but the slender, long frame of the Grih.

  “I love it.” Imogen watched the woman go still at the sound of her voice, and cursed herself. She should have nodded or grunted assent. She needed to have a six-pack a day smoking habit to sound even close to Grihan.