To Protect A Prince

by Candy Nicks

  Sal's eyes widened a fraction at the sight of the pale strands. “I'll need to—"

  He snapped the parcel closed. “When I get me my crawler and those other little extras we discussed."

  "Yeah, and I could log you in under your real id. Do you know what kind of shit I'm in if they catch me falsifying incoming data?"

  "I'm sure they'll be shocked,” he replied deciding it was time to appeal to her maternal side. “I'm in trouble, Sal. Boarded by the SER, had to leave in a hurry, know what I mean? You were the first person I thought of. The only person I knew would help me."

  "Don't lay it on too thick,” she warned. “You helped me, I help you. After this time, I don't ever want to see your ugly face here again, got that?"

  "Yes, Ma'am.” He lifted two fingers to his forehead in salute. “Take it,” he said offering the parcel. “Call it a mark of trust."

  Inclining her head in acknowledgement, she took the parcel and dropped it into the bag slung at her hip. “Walk with me, big boy. My men'll watch the ship."

  "Sure.” No refusing Sal when she asked you to walk with her. The hulking bodyguards stepped forward at the snap of her fingers. Took up position at the foot of the ramp, arms folded. It was impossible not to think of Shula and Cristan huddled in the bathroom. If she made a sudden appearance now, he would wring her neck himself.

  A few steps from the ramp, Sal blocked his path with her stick.

  "Word is you're carrying extra-hot, Dan. Mostly whispers at top level, but I'm hearing names. The General, Alti Manello, the Shoari for fuck's sake. All associated with your name. Why are the Shoari interested in a one-credit operation like yours?"

  A prickle of sweat formed on the back of his neck. “Maybe they like my beautiful face?"

  She wasn't deterred. “How much do you owe?"

  "More than I can pay, as usual. General has called in the loan."

  "And you got nothing on board that I should know about?"

  "An illegally harvested Tigras claw and some Eldan Jadir. Apart from that?” He shrugged. The bead of sweat trickled between his shoulder blades.

  "If you've turned to slaving, I'll whip your hide, boy."

  "Come on, Sal. How long you known me?"

  Sharp as the keenest edge, she regarded him for a long moment before nodding curtly. Survival depended on knowing who to trust, making the right judgements.

  "Your sensor shield is down. I won't ask what you're carrying, but I want it off my rock the moment you're done. You got me?"

  "Don't start me wishing I'd left your dear old dad to burn, Sal."

  "I've deleted all your landing data. You got junior and his brother there on guard until you leave. Best I can do, Dan. Oh, and I'll make an offering for you next time I'm at the shrine. A big one. Sounds like you're going to need it."

  * * * *

  "It can't be much longer, my prince. I promise we'll be out of here soon."

  Shula held the child away from her glowing body, trying to cool him as best she could. Stripped down to his diaper, he was a hot sweaty bundle of misery. His usual stoicism evaporating in the stifling heat of the air-less cubicle.

  Muted voices, footsteps, the clang of metal on metal. The urge to crack open the door and peek tested her willpower to the limit.

  Cristan arched his back, pushing away from her, whimpering in short strained bursts.

  Best sex ever. Shula listened for the words, which could either be a message or a sick joke and heard only the thump of heavy boots or the thud of a hammer hitting metal, she couldn't tell which.

  She felt a prickly heat rash forming on the small of her back at the point where she'd almost scraped it raw on the navi-console. The place between her thighs ached and she longed for a hot rosemary-infused bath to ease the pinpricks of pain making themselves known all over her body.

  She listened again, weighing up the chances of reaching the galley, replicating a drink for herself and the child and getting back to the bathroom without being seen.

  Dan would understand.

  She gave a half-laugh, half-sob. Dan would have her hide if she stepped out of this prison without his say-so.

  Another crash, a shout. The screeching sound of something being dragged over rough metal.

  Cristan's eyelids drooped, the heat at last sending him to sleep. She contemplated hitting the shower valve to cool them both off, but had no way of knowing if the sound of the water would be detected elsewhere in the ship.

  Gently, she blew on Cristan's sleepy face. Tested his cheek with the back of her hand.

  "You'll thank me for this, one day,” she murmured. “If it gets any hotter, I'll crack open the door. But for now, just endure, precious heart."

  And pray that Dan's out there mending the ship and not selling us both into a life of slavery.

  Closing her eyes, she tipped back her head. What did she really know of the man into whose hands she'd put the most precious thing in her life? The man she'd given herself to with such abandon?

  Hot tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back, wiping them away with her arm. Only children cried for the things they couldn't have. If she lived, her life would be one of sacrifice, dedicated to Cristan and his quest to return home. Better resign herself to that now.

  Another crash caused her to jump and clutch Cristan to her breast. Footsteps outside the door, advancing, receding. Someone calling out. And then a light, insistent tapping coming from somewhere in the walls.

  The service-maintenance, nothing more. Bound to make a bit of noise.

  She'd be a good girl and wait for the code. And if she felt brave enough, she'd ask Dan exactly what those words meant.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 8

  Caring about others made you vulnerable. Stopped you thinking straight. The need to check on Shula and the kid had him standing outside the small bathroom, bunched fist hovering over the locked door.

  Don't risk it. With no sensor shield, every movement aboard the ship was liable to be picked up. To those knowing what to look for, the child's print would give them away in a heart-beat. The occasional woman had found her way onto the ship, but never a child. Cristan would definitely arouse interest of the wrong sort.

  Walking away from the door, Dan checked his weapons and thought about rigging some temporary block on the life-form readouts. Bypass the central controller so the crawler working in the nocens tube didn't pick up the interference.

  Hotter than a fire-pit with the air-circulator working over-time. He shrugged out of the jacket. Un-knotted his neck-cloth. Crawlers wouldn't work in anything less than forty-six C. Hotter it was, the faster they worked, which normally wasn't a problem.

  Unless you had a woman and a baby stashed in the smallest room. Dan threw his jacket into the galley and checked his wrist-chronometer. The creature should be done by now, even with the extra tasks he'd offered to do for double-fee.

  If the creature had fallen asleep in the tube, he would blast it out with an air hose. And then, knowing his luck, it would probably get its sorry hide stuck in the—

  Dan bent to retrieve the small pliable disc lying adjacent to the galley-door. Turned it in his fingers. Retrovator valve. From the crawler's temp-regulator. What was the creature doing on this side of the ship? And worse, why hadn't he seen him? He'd been careful to keep himself between the bathroom and the creature at all times.

  The short-sword whispered from its sheath. Dan darted back into the galley. Glanced at the ceiling. The creature had probably crawled down a service-vent from the nocens in the hope of finding some brandy. There was a reason you never paid crawlers up front.

  None of the panels looked out of place, no rivets missing. The small table was bolted in place. He nudged the controller that operated the storage closet, sword aloft in a ready, two-handed grip. When the door slid back an empty brandy bottle rolled out and rattled across the galley floor.

  "Okay, come out now. And I'll let you live. I catch you, I feed you to that hulk at th
e bottom of the ramp. Hear me?"

  He racked his brain, trying to remember where the other nocens service ducts came out. Slid along the wall to the door. One emerged at the top of the corridor, near to the front-hatch. Sal's hulk would still be guarding the end of the ramp. Dan didn't want them alerted to any trouble. Fewer people knew about trouble, the better.

  "Son of a whore!"

  A grate of metal on metal low down, a dull pain and he was on his knees, wondering which way was up, the sword still clasped in his right hand. Another blow sent him reeling sideways into the wall. He slashed wildly with the sword, slicing through the air between him and whatever had taken him down. Larger than a crawler, that was for sure. The blow had come from above his head.

  Sal's guards? He fought to stay conscious, scrabbling for purchase against the blood-stained wall. Everyone double-crossed you eventually. If she had and he lived through this, he would personally rip her head off.

  The third blow caught his sword arm. His hand went numb, but he managed to catch the sword with his left hand as it fell from his grasp. The creature standing above him was neither a crawler, nor guard. A good three heads taller than him, its lifeless eyes registered nothing but a focused intent. No emotion in the way it raised one of its arms to pound him into oblivion.

  "Shoaria?” he said, deliberately mispronouncing the word. “I'm honoured."

  "Kul fante. You are dead."

  "I understand you just fine,” he muttered, twisting to avoid the next fistful. It landed on the wall, punching a dent in the metal panel. Blood pooled behind his eye-patch. “Mind my ship, will you?” Stabbing with his sword, he lunged in the direction of the blur of legs. How in sin's name had it got past the guards?

  The blade jammed into the Shoari's leather boot. Stuck fast. Dan yanked at it, feeling his arm weakening. “If you've damaged my ship, I'll be sending you the bill,” he ground out.

  The ceiling lurched towards him, then a huge, bunched fist. The unstoppable creature paused, raised his head and then took out a small sensor-reader.

  Scum, but stinking rich scum. The latest technology, top secret devices, they had it all. But so far, he hadn't heard about any of them being able to transform into crawlers.

  Dan fought the gathering blackness. “Hey,” he called, weakly. “Not dead yet. Don't turn your back on me, you fucking great ape."

  Or someone else might have said it, he wasn't sure. The words were thick and incoherent, coming from somewhere far away.

  The Shoari lumbered towards the bathroom, sensor scraping the wall, eyes on the read-out. The sword clattered to the floor.

  Dan reached out to grab it, but his fist closed around nothing but air.

  * * * *

  Dan's voice. Loud, incoherent.

  Shula slid her butt to the door and pressed her ear to the metal. She'd thrown the inside lock with no idea whether it would keep anyone out. The door rattled. Why would Dan do that?

  "Hush,” she mouthed to Cristan and listened again. A heavy rasping sound that might have been breathing, or some kind of tool intent on opening the door. The noise came from just under the door-frame. The door slid back a fraction, closed again with a thump. She heard what sounded like a curse.

  Oh goddess in chains, the thick, leather-clad legs and bare, meaty arms definitely didn't belong to Dan. Her head spun, a frantic jumble of thoughts all trying to force themselves through at once. Plan B would be good, right now. She scooted back towards the shower-pad, looking around for anything she might use as a weapon.

  A flexi-pak of sani-soap. Shampoo, in a pump dispenser. An old-fashioned cut-throat razor.

  "You stay there,” she whispered to Cristan. “Can't fight and hold you at the same time."

  The door slid open again, this time sticking at half-way point. A tattooed arm hooked itself around the edge and heaved.

  If Dan wasn't out there, fighting the thing off, he must be hurt. Or dead. Cold terror gripped her, locking her in place. How quickly fortune turned. The door-metal groaned and started to buckle. The creature grunted and renewed its assault. In a few more heartbeats she might be dead, too. Expecting this very outcome didn't make it any less surprising.

  How had she ever thought to out-run her enemies? The open blade of the razor glinted in the artificial light. She snapped it closed and stuffed it into a pocket. No sense in giving the creature a weapon to kill her with. And no place to hide the child. Unless she could rip a weld-riveted wall-panel away with her bare hands.

  "I'm Dan's wife,” she said backing against the wall. “Ask him. He'll tell you."

  Had the creature been ordered to kill the child, or was he after the ransom?

  "I can pay,” she said. “Anything they offer, I will double, treble. Name your price."

  The door finally slid into its housing with a sharp thwack, revealing the creature beyond. Sweet goddess, the blade wouldn't even penetrate its blubber. Its gaze moved beyond her to Cristan. The creature grunted and crammed itself into the tiny room.

  One last stand was all she had. She would die without knowing Dan's fate. Had he cursed her at the end, for barging into his life? For forcing him to care?

  She braced for the assault, one hand in her pocket, curled about the razor. Blood singing in her ears. The creature's hand shot out too fast. Lifted her as if she were nothing. Jagged nails bit into the tender flesh of her neck, fingers squeezing away her breath.

  The creature's bulk filled the small room, its feet dangerously close to Cristan's head.

  "He's worth more to you alive.” She choked out the words. “We both are. Dan!"

  The creature squeezed harder, cutting off her words.

  "Let. Me. Go.” Her arm swung in an arc, fist clutching the blade. A neat line of flesh opened on the back of the creature's hand. It looked down, frowning. Knocked the blade away and jerked her head back into the wall. The room dimmed, came back into focus.

  "The baby is Captain Daniels',” she cried. “His daughter. You'll be laughed out of existence when you return with the wrong child."

  The creature had her jammed between the toilet and the washbasin. The only weapon left to her, the shampoo and soap. She stopped struggling, hanging limp in its grasp. One twist and he would have her head.

  Her stomach lurched. Not today.

  As the creature bent towards the child, she grabbed the flexi-pak of shampoo and shoved it into the creature's eyes, squeezing hard. It gave a yell and loosened its grip on her neck. Enough for her to wrench herself free and slide down the wall onto rubbery legs.

  "Shula!"

  Dan stood slumped against the door-frame, short sword in his hand, blood seeping from a sticky clot in his hair. “To me,” he roared extending his hand. The creature lunged for her again. She ducked under his swinging arm and dived for Cristan, covering him protectively with her body. He hadn't uttered a single cry. Such bravery would surely see him return home in triumph.

  With another roar, Dan charged at the creature, driving the sword into its hip, ramming it home with a twist.

  "Come on, you fucker. You fight like a girl, you know that?"

  The sword tore free, ripping flesh. The creature gave an angry snarl and took Dan's head between its fists.

  "Get out,” Dan dropped the sword and grabbed the creature's hands with his own, arms trembling as he tried to heave it off. “Run, Shula. Go now."

  "You stay,” the creature ground out. “Or he die."

  "Go.” Dan coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood.

  Honour his sacrifice. The words came from nowhere, clear in her head. Cristan continued to gaze at her waiting for her choice. She scooped him up without hesitation and ducked under the creature's arms, past the choking Dan and into the corridor. There had to be another weapon on board, or someone off-ship who would help.

  Leaving the ship would mean exposing herself and the child to more danger. Who knew what lurked in the shadows of this world? But what choice did she have? If Dan died, who would fly the ship? If he die
d, how would she ever forgive herself?

  Dan's jacket. On the galley table, lying open, she saw his jacket, the inside pocket holding what looked like a blast-gun.

  She darted into the cabin. “He's not going to die. Sorry my sweet, just a little longer.” She pulled the blanket over the back of Cristan's head and placed him on the floor, in the corner of the room. The blast-gun was heavier and larger than the one she'd practiced with on the range back home, but the arming pin and trigger mechanism were in the same place. With a flick of her thumb, she pushed forward the pin and pointed the whining gun upwards and away as she'd been taught.

  Dan was still struggling to free himself from the creature. With hands the size of power-shovels, it had no need of weapons.

  "Shula held the blast-gun in a trembling, two-handed grip. “Give me a clear shot, Dan."

  "No!” Dan choked out the words. “Enclosed space. Too dangerous."

  "I can take him."

  "Put down. Or he dies now.” The creature lifted his chin at the gun.

  "If you had the balls to kill him, you would have done it by now. He's ten times your worth. You fucker,” she added with grim satisfaction. “Hands shaking so much now, she could barely hold the gun. The chances of hitting Dan were too high.

  With a scream and a quick prayer, she charged at the bounty-hunter, jamming the gun into its side. Dan fell to the floor, rolled and grabbed at her legs. She fired on full power at point-blank range, the white-hot charge blowing her and Dan out into the corridor. Her cheek ground into the floor, Dan's full weight covering her, pinning her down. Protecting her.

  The creature stiffened and went into spasm, jerking uncontrollably, bouncing from the walls of the tiny cabin.

  "Up.” Dan groped for her hand and hauled her upright. Shoved her down the corridor, stumbling after her.

  "Where's Cristan?"

  "Galley. Oh Dan, what did I do?"

  "You—"

  A muffled thump rocked the ship, knocking them to the floor. When she raised her head, Shula saw the green mess that was once the Shoari, oozing from the bathroom.