Dark Minds (Class 5 Series Book 3)

by Michelle Diener

  “Shit, shit, shit,” she sang under her breath. The end of the passageway was coming up fast. “Left or right?”

  There was no response.

  “Paxe, left or right?” She was running out of corridor.

  “Neither are good.” He was almost whispering.

  “Which is the least bad?” She pulled up short as she reached the end, looked over her shoulder to see the Tecran bearing down on her, shockgun raised. She reached back for her whip for the first time.

  “Right.”

  She dropped her hand and spun right, using the lower gravity to jump away, and felt the brush of the shockgun fire across her back. She sent a silent thank you to Paxe for the Cargassey fabric as she landed and ran on.

  “What's the bad news about this direction?” Adrenalin had given her feet wings to start with, but now she was finding it difficult to talk, breathe, and run. And the sound of running was still behind her, getting closer all the time.

  “Five Tecran up ahead. They're finishing up reactivating the self-destruct device I disabled when I broke partially free. And they know you're coming.”

  “And the better news?”

  “They aren't soldiers, they're technicians.”

  “Not armed?” That would be nice. She reached back for her whip again, this time pulled it out.

  The crystal Paxe was in was gripped in her left hand, the chain wrapped around her closed fist. She tightened her hold, and felt it dig into her palm.

  “Not armed,” he confirmed. “And coming up . . . now.”

  She raised her arm, turned the corner and brought it down, then skidded to a stop as blue light arced and danced in front of her, bringing down a wave of bodies.

  The sound of pursuit was so close, she jumped over one of the techs as he hit the floor of what was some kind of engine room, heading deeper in.

  “I need help, Paxe.” She made for a metal-covered box large enough to hide behind, blocking her from sight.

  Paxe had seemed shell-shocked since she'd pulled him out of the slot, and she guessed it was his first taste of freedom, heady and disorienting, especially as the Tecran seemed to have done the equivalent of cutting off most of his limbs.

  “I can't think.” He sounded panicked.

  “Okay, let's calm down. Where am I?” She moved again, crouching behind a smaller piece of equipment.

  “The secondary engine room, where the light-jump tech is situated.”

  “Is one of the things they messed with your ability to light-jump?” She spoke in a whisper.

  “Yes, and they can trigger the self-destruct if they want to. They might, because I'm free. They have nothing to lose.” His panic was making him talk faster.

  “No. They'll use that as a last resort.” She kept her words slow, hoping that would help him slow down, too. “While I'm onboard, they can still theoretically get you back.”

  “The moment they think that chance is gone, they'll push the button.”

  “Will they?” Imogen didn't think so. “Depends who has the button. If it's someone onboard this ship, then no. They'll want to get well clear first.”

  “Oh.” He sounded astonished. “I'd forgotten that. But I don't know who has it. I didn't even know they were reactivating it.”

  The sounds behind her told her the soldiers chasing her had found the unconscious techs, and then there was silence.

  She imagined them spreading out, cautious now they knew she was armed in some way.

  That's right, assholes. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

  She angled toward a huge piece of machinery, crab-walking to keep herself low. There was the ring of a boot connecting to something metallic, and she used the sound to rise up a little and run the last few feet bent at the waist.

  There was nowhere left to go.

  She looked at the curved wall of the back of the room in despair and then the lights went out. She closed her eyes and gave the Tecran some credit. If they had night-vision goggles, or the alien equivalent, she was at a huge disadvantage. And the light display of her whip would show up nicely, too.

  “What next?” She breathed it, soft as an exhale.

  “I want to kill them all.” Paxe's voice sent a chill through her. “It was a mistake to ask you to come. I didn't know how much damage they'd done. I can't even turn on the lights.”

  She heard movement to her left, and opened her eyes. She could see a little better now, light from the passageway meant it wasn't fully dark. A dark shadow detached itself from the black blob that was a squat engine block, and she had the sense the soldier turned his head and looked at her.

  Standing watching her, as if bemused.

  Just like that, in one drawn out moment, she was back in her 'go out with a bang' mindset.

  She'd developed attachments. Cam. The thought of him was warm and enveloping as a hug. As edgy and exciting as a lover's caress. Fiona, Rose. Oris and Paxe. She had a new future to lose. And if she was going to lose it, at the very least, she would make some of the Tecran very much regret involving her. Again.

  She flicked the whip, not the big arm movement she'd done up 'til now, but a twist of her wrist.

  A single line of blue, searing in its brightness, lashed out. There was a sizzle of electric energy, and the sound of the Tecran going down.

  His shockgun fell forward, clattering on the floor and sliding up against the wall. She tried to make it out in the gloom, pondering the wisdom of trying to grab it.

  She hadn't even held a shockgun, had no idea how they worked. She decided not to risk it and carefully stepped over the unconscious body, gaze to her right, where she thought the next soldier would be coming from.

  Paxe was blind as her, but she wished he'd talk to her anyway. Tension wound tighter and tighter in her, and she ducked behind the engine block with relief.

  “Imogen!” Paxe's shout in her ear made her swallow back a scream, and then a body slammed into hers.

  A Tecran with a helmet on pinned her to the solid metal surface. He ground her right arm into the block with his body, and she forced herself to tighten her grip on the whip despite the pain.

  He tried to grab her left hand, and she realized with a sudden, deep panic that they knew she was holding Paxe in her fist.

  Her left arm was more mobile as he levered his weight against her right side to try and get hold of her hand.

  She threw her arm outward, avoiding his grasp.

  “Throw me.” Paxe sounded as panicked as she felt. “Imogen, you have nothing to lose. Throw me.”

  She threw him. Under the circumstances, it was the best she could do, with no way to get any wind up, and she heard the crystal hit the floor with a ting of sound and skitter away.

  The Tecran eased back, head turning almost 180 degrees as he searched for where it had gone.

  It meant her right arm was free. It was free, and she lifted her hand up and flicked it down.

  Blue light enveloped the Tecran's feet and danced its way up, and she shoved him as his head snapped back, so he fell like a downed tree away from her.

  “Where did you go?” she asked, no longer caring about giving herself away.

  “I don't know. Don't worry. Get out of here.”

  But she wasn't leaving him. She hadn't risked everything to abandon him now.

  She moved forward, still in the dark, and then flicked the whip again, trying to see what was illuminated by it, but the light was too bright. It blinded her.

  She heard another Tecran go down, and decided she had the makings of a strategy on her hands.

  Just whip until there was no one left.

  She raised her arm again, and the shockgun fire hit her shoulder, punching her back a step, although the Cargassey fabric absorbed most of the blow.

  And then she was under serious fire, most of it coming from the direction she was sure Paxe had landed.

  She brought the whip down again, but the fire kept coming.

  Some of them where either out of range or had cover.
<
br />   “Go!” Paxe shouted in her ear again. “Even if you find me, how will you get off alive? Go, go, go.”

  She didn't want to. She brought the whip down again, and then dropped it as pain seared her right hand. She'd been hit and it felt as if her hand had been taken off. Even if she could find the whip in the dark, she didn't think she could pick it up.

  “Please, go.”

  She headed for the light, arm tucked by her side, trying to keep her breathing even.

  Her hand was on fire.

  She was hit twice in the back as she leapt over the techs she'd brought down earlier and like a moth to the flame, headed for the brightly-lit passage, but then she was out and running, left arm holding her right tight to her body.

  She felt the chill of her skin, the nasty prickle of sweat as she ran. Shock. She could not go into shock.

  “On the right.” Paxe's voice was tinny, far away in her head, but she swerved obediently right, found herself inside a tube.

  She pushed up against the wall, half crouching as she put her head between her knees.

  One second. Two.

  The doors opened.

  “Left. Now.”

  She staggered out. Got some kind of rhythm back. “What about you? What's happening?”

  “They turned the lights on. They're still looking for me.”

  It wouldn't be long, she guessed. They'd find him soon enough.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “What I planned all along if this happened. Imogen, you need to run faster.”

  She'd slowed to a dragging sort of Igor limp, she realized, and forced herself to move again.

  “Last turn,” he told her. “There on the left.”

  A door opened and she stepped inside. Found she was back in the maintenance bay. She fell into the pod, and the lid closed with a snap before she'd even buckled herself in.

  She couldn't buckle herself in, she realized. Her hand wouldn't work. So she wriggled into the inclined chair as best she could and lay back, panting. The sudden acceleration as Paxe shot her out of the maintenance hatch jostled her, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself crying out.

  The pod didn't drift when it left the ship. It moved away at a steady rate. She caught a glimpse of the Levron to Paxe's right, and never felt smaller or more insignificant. Oris was nowhere to be seen, so at least he must have managed to get back to the others safely.

  “Talk to me, Paxe.”

  “They found me.” He seemed calmer now. The panic was gone.

  “What are they going to do? Put you back in the lock-safe?” She closed her eyes, and breathed through the pain as feeling started coming back to her hand one agonizing, fire ant bite at a time.

  “I think they're going to try.” Paxe paused. “They're walking back to it with me now.”

  “Paxe, I'm so sorry.” Tears escaped her closed lids, running down into her hair. “I failed you.”

  “You didn't fail me. You did more for me than anyone I ever met. Risked your life for me, when all I'd planned for you was to kill you.”

  “You didn't understand.” She whispered it, wondering what she could do to make this right.

  “I didn't understand,” he agreed. “But now I do. I know why the slave girl saved Ali Baba. She wanted to belong somewhere.”

  She fought back a sob, unable to say a word.

  “I'm sorry, Imogen. I would have liked to——” He made a sound, like an animal caught in a trap. “They've reached the lock-safe and I've waited as long as I can. I hope you're far enough away.”

  Her eyes snapped open. “Far enough away?”

  She had to lift up on her left arm to see out, and saw the hostage ships were just in front of her, that Paxe had sent her away as fast as the pod would go.

  “They should never have reconnected the self-destruct.” There was a vicious, grim satisfaction in his voice. And then he exploded.

  Or imploded, perhaps, was the better way to describe it.

  It was as if the massive ball of the Class 5 contracted, scrunching in on itself, and then, when there was nowhere left to go, it blew outward, a rage of light and heat and force.

  Imogen felt her pod being picked up and tossed like a piece of driftwood on a raging sea.

  And as she slammed into the lid above her, she saw the ball of flame engulf her before the world went dark.

  Chapter 39

  At last, it was the fast cruiser's turn.

  Ever since he'd seen Oris come forward as if to give himself up, and then after a long wait in front of the Levron, arc elegantly up and away to slide into place bracketing the Illium, he'd felt the pressure of time slipping away.

  If Oris had done it to draw attention away from what Cam was doing, it was a gesture Cam appreciated.

  He piloted the explorer into the launch bay, pleased to be coming in to a space he knew would be big enough.

  He'd scraped the sides more than once in the last hour, only just fitting in to some of the traders. But every single one had been happy to see him, had pulled on the space survivors, and headed away from the fight. Even the Vanad's crew had greeted him like a friend. And he supposed he was the best friend they had right now.

  Pren was waiting for him, shockgun raised as he opened the door.

  Her look of surprise was priceless, and as he stepped up to her, she got him in a soldier's one-arm hug, and slapped his back a few times.

  “It is very good to see you, sir.” She had a massive grin on her face.

  “Vraen driving you mad?” Cam reached back into the explorer and took out a stack of space survivors, handed them to Pren.

  She let out a snigger. “Yes, sir. Space survivors?” Her tone turned to confusion.

  “You need to not be a hostage anymore, Pren. We can't give the Tecran what they're demanding, so if they decide to shoot another vessel, or all of them, it would be better if there was no one onboard.”

  The beauty of working with someone with the same training and background was how quickly they caught on.

  Pren counted the boxes in her arms. “Three more will be enough.”

  He grabbed three more, and when he turned, Diot was in the launch bay, too, Olan and Vraen right behind her.

  “Where did you even come from?” The Bukarian asked as she enveloped him in a tight hug.

  “One of the Class 5s next to the Illium.” He started handing out the space survivors. “Can you get the rest of the crew?” he asked Pren, and still smiling, she set her boxes down and left.

  “Get the crew for what?” Vraen took a space survivor and then frowned down at it as if he'd never seen one before.

  “You need to get off this ship now. As quickly as possible.” Cam watched Olan open his box. Was it his imagination, or did the elderly scientist look even more frail than he had.

  “Olan, there is room for one extra person in my explorer. Perhaps it's best you come with me.”

  The Fitalian looked up, and Cam saw his hands were trembling a little. “I think that might be best.” Olan smiled. “It is good to see you, Cam. We were worried about you.”

  “You expect us to go through the gel wall in space survivors?” Vraen's tone, after the gratitude and quick action of every single other hostage, made something hot and corrosive rise up inside Cam's chest.

  He had left Imogen to do this. He had risked everything. He turned to look at Vraen. “You can stay here, Vraen, and you can die when the Tecran finally believe us when we tell them we cannot give them back their Class 5s, and they blow up every single one of these ships in retribution. Don't let me stop you.” He pointed to the door.

  Silence flash-froze every single person.

  The doors opened, and Pren appeared, with Yari and her three crew in tow.

  They stumbled to a halt in the frigid atmosphere.

  “I was only asking a question.” There was bluster in Vraen's voice.

  Cam didn't give it the benefit of a response, he simply turned away, and held out a space survivor to
Yari.

  She came at him in a rush, pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.”

  “You're my team. I wasn't going to leave you hanging here in the middle of a battle field.” He grinned at her and pressed the box against her chest. “Suit up.”

  They all did, with Pren ready before everyone else, although she'd been the last to start. Vraen was a sullen presence in the midst of them all, pulling on his suit with bad grace and frequent curses.

  “Ready?” he asked them.

  Pren nodded. “Good luck, sir.”

  “We'll come for you as soon as it's safe. You have ten hours, and you all have beacons. Wait a few hours before you activate them, when you're far enough away.”

  Diot, Yari and Pren acknowledged that, but Vraen stared stonily ahead.

  Cam gave Pren the formal Battle Center bow and climbed into the drone. Olan was already inside, strapped in, and Cam lifted off carefully with so many in the launch bay, and slid out through the gel wall.

  He looked back, saw Pren had pushed her way out and was waiting, hanging in space, to help pull Diot and then Yari through, then the others one by one.

  He would see her promoted when this was over. She had proved herself again and again.

  “Where are we going?” Olan asked from below, where he was strapped to the backboard.

  “The Class 5 on the left. If you are all right with putting yourself in the hands of a thinking system.”

  “I'll take a battleship, no matter how dangerous, over free floating, thank you.” Olan's voice was dry. “I see you have a Fitalian battleship in your entourage. Are my colleagues in the Horde providing assistance?”

  “No.” Cam looked down at his upturned face. “Your Fitalian colleagues tried to kill me, shoot a Class 5, and then threatened to destroy Larga Ways. All to cover up that their terra-forming on Huy elevated the grahudi to near advanced sentient status, and the Tecran found out about it.”

  Olan blinked. “Now this is a story worth hearing. Which idiot in the Horde is responsible, because I can assure you that most Fitali would not approve.”

  “Ipsos,” Cam told him. They were halfway back to Oris and the others now.