by AM Scott
Peering out cautiously, Saree saw nothing but boxes and crates. Looking up, Saree spotted the alarm beam anchored just above her head—good. No steps below her—bad. The crates were stacked about as high as she was, a meter and a half away. She could easily jump to them, but these weren’t the sturdy plas kind—no, these were multi-colored paperboard and veg-plas, meant for light containment, not sturdiness. They might hold her weight or they might collapse, there was no telling which. She could see another tunnel to her right, but it wasn’t close enough to just swing around into it. Men’s voices rose above the music, yelling status reports, but she couldn’t tell much more than that.
Saree had no choice but the boxes—no time left for exploration. She’d wait for Hal’s run, jump to the boxes, run closer to the kitchen area and find a good spot to shoot from. Preferably behind some cover, protecting her while she fired. She’d be running across a big house of cards, collapsing when her foot found a weak box. She’d have to be lighter on her feet than a Klee nest mother across her eggs. Which wasn’t likely.
Hal’s distraction should start… now. She waited, and eight seconds later, shouts rang out from the men in the kitchen area. Feet pounded and weapons jangled as power charges slammed in and safeties came off. Bizarrely, the music kept playing.
Saree sprang for the boxes, pushed off and turned, running on her toes toward the kitchen area, trying to glide rather than run. Boxes rattled behind her, but the noise was unnoticeable against the men yelling at each other about the ‘shuttle attack.’ Saree smiled and prayed Hal wouldn’t get hit.
As Saree ran, she scanned the cavern wall. There—a tunnel just a little higher up than she was now. Turning, she ran and sprang for the tunnel mouth, staggering a few steps before coming to a stop right in front of the partial skeletal remains of a huge tunnel monster. She took an instinctive step back.
Suns, Saree, it’s dead. Pay attention to the real threat or join it. Don’t be an idiot. She spun back to the tunnel mouth. The perfect spot—just high enough to see the kitchen and the beds. Still no one in the beds. Blast it all to the black hole of Andromeda! Was this wasted effort? She couldn’t see Ruhger or Lashtar—were they looking in the tunnels for Ferra? Or hunkered down, waiting?
Hordes of scowling men streamed out of the tunnels behind the sani-boxes and ran past her to the front entrances. She ducked back until the last of the big group passed. The stragglers were too busy trying to catch up to look up. One of those stragglers dragged someone out of the tunnel by a leash around her neck.
Ferra. An even more battered and beaten Ferra. Her nose was crushed into a bloody pulp, her face black and blue and streaked with blood, and red, oozing stripes crisscrossed her entire body. Ferra’s hands clenched the collar, and she stumbled, trying to keep up.
Saree snapped up her rifle, aimed and fired, shooting the man holding the leash right above his ear—before she consciously thought about firing. Fury swept through her—she wanted to kill him again, and again and again. Ferra fell to her knees, the man dragging her down when he dropped, but she pulled the leash out of his hands, along with his weapon. Ferra turned back toward the tunnel and started shooting right where she was, not even trying for cover. The whining of laser fire became constant.
Saree stared, stunned. Why didn’t Ferra run for cover? When a bolt barely missed Ferra, Saree raised her rifle and started firing, trying to take out anyone targeting Ferra from the side or behind. The few men still in the area ran for cover. A group of black armor-clad women thundered out of the tunnel connected to Dalm’s lair.
A woman yelled, “Ferra!”
Ferra looked up and smiled, more blood cascading down her chin when the smile cracked open the barely crusted scabs on her lips. A look of surprise crossed her face and a smoking crater appeared on her chest. She fell back, clearly dead.
Suns! Someone got her from inside one of the tunnels. All this pain and Ferra doesn’t make it? Blast and rad. Dead men walking. Saree fired at every Inquisitor she spotted.
One of the armored women started forward, but another pulled her back. The woman staggered as someone fired at her—fortunately, just a hand weapon, blocked by her armor. Saree started shooting again, firing at the other tunnel entrances, covering the women until they fell back into the tunnel. Two were firing out into the cavern and one faced back into the tunnel, covering their escape route.
On the far side of the cavern from her, two armor-clad people charged out of the tunnel and sprinted across the kitchen area, toward the group of women. Saree covered Ruhger and Lashtar, firing at everyone she spotted. They all stopped in the tunnel mouth, and one of them waved an arm back and forth, probably to get her attention. From the wide shoulders, Captain Ruhger was motioning for her to join them.
Suns! How was she going to do that? There were far too many men still in here, firing away at all of them—the whine of lasers and pellets was deafening. And she had to make a five-meter drop, in the open. At least none of the Inquisitors had the brains to take the high ground, up off the cavern floor, and none of them seemed to realize she was up here. Still—she instinctively ducked as a bolt of laser fire splashed on the cavern wall above her head—this was a dangerous place. She had to move—now!
Her only hope was to move fast. Really fast. Before she could think about it too much, she sprang back to the crates and sprinted for the group, firing down into the kitchen and the path between the boxes and the cavern wall as she ran. The Captain ran toward her, setting up a cross-fire between the two of them, the other women popping out to provide cover fire. As Saree neared the last stack of boxes before the auto-mess, he stopped, shiny black helmet pointed up at her. It was far too high for her to jump safely. But safe was right out the airlock.
The Captain dropped his weapon, the sling retracting it to his chest. He held out both arms, roaring, “Jump!”
Saree did, her heart pounding like an orchestra of tympani drums. This was stupid—she was going to break him instead. Or maybe both of them. Just before she hit the Captain, he somehow flew up to meet her, dust flying around him. Saree crashed into him; hard arms clenched her tightly to his broad chest. For a split second, Saree felt incredibly safe. They thudded to the floor and rolled, the Captain clasping her to him until they stopped. Oof. The man was heavy. Saree tried to breathe.
Springing to his feet, the Captain pulled her up and into a sprint, running for the group of women then past them, down the tunnel. Turning, they pounded up the spiral tunnel to Dalm’s room. Towed along by Captain Ruhger’s hand clenched around her wrist, Saree thought her heart and lungs would bust out of her chest. She couldn’t maintain this pace. If they didn’t reach the top soon, she’d have to slow down. The women thundered behind them, the whine of laser fire and the ping of pellets echoing in the tunnel.
Finally, they made it to Dalm’s cavern and ran for the window. One of the women jumped for the rope and climbed it, while two more stationed themselves at either side, weapons up and scanning. The other women stayed at the entrance to Dalm’s room. Chest heaving, Saree collapsed on the bed. One more step and she’d have died.
The woman on the rope slid back down and plopped on the bed next to her. A roaring noise made her turn as a blast of superheated air pummeled her viciously for a few seconds, then decreased. A shuttle, airlock open and ramp extended, hovered outside the cavern, thrusters roaring. Captain Ruhger grabbed her hand, pulled her to her feet, and crouching low, they ran into the shuttle, pushing against the remaining shuttle blast, careening through the airlock as the pressure was deflected. Hard hands spun Saree to the side and up against the shuttle wall.
“One, two, three, four, five, six—anyone not in, sound off now!” the Captain roared. “Go, go, go!”
A surge forced her toward the floor, but Ruhger’s body pressed her upright between him and the bulkhead, the other women squeezed around them. The grav generators compensated and the Captain pulled away. Spinning her around, he towed her through the airlock and into the shu
ttle cabin. He dumped her into a chair and strode to the co-pilot’s seat.
Saree tried to process everything, but she couldn’t even think. She just sat there, staring blankly at the piloting screens. Black-gloved hands pulled straps around her and buckled her in, pulled the rifle still clutched tightly in hand away from her, patted her thigh gently and retreated. Saree sagged into the chair, letting the straps hold her in place, and gasped. Gradually, her breathing and her heart slowed.
She was safe. Safe, with people who cared. Thank the egg of Zarar, she was safe. She put her head back and closed her eyes. Safe.
∆∆∆
Someone grasped her shoulder. Saree took a wild swing before she opened her eyes, hoping for a lucky hit. She rammed up against straps and struggled to pull away.
“Hold, Scholar. You’re safe,” Sister Lashtar said.
Safe. Opening her eyes, friendly female faces smiled down at her and she relaxed. “Sorry, Sister.”
“Don’t worry about it, Scholar.” Lashtar smiled, sadly. “You’ve had a rough couple of days at our hands. I don’t blame you for taking a swing at me.”
“It’s not your fault, Sister. And Ferra paid dearly for her mistake.”
Lashtar’s face grew grim. “Yes, she did. Still, I’m sorry she dragged you into that mess. And I’m very glad you escaped the worst of it. Can we get you anything before we leave?”
“No, I’m okay. I’m just going back to my shuttle, showering, eating and collapsing. Hopefully in that order.” Saree tried to stand. “It may take a few minutes. Don’t wait on me.”
Lashtar nodded. “Take your time. Come see me when you’ve recovered a little and we’ll talk about reparations.”
Saree shook her head and winced at the pain. Bad idea. “No need for that, Sister. I escaped with my life. I’m happy enough.”
“Still, we owe you.”
“You can repay me by helping others, Sister. That’s more than enough.”
Lashtar nodded and left, but Saree was pretty sure they’d be talking later. She hit the release on the harness, peeling it away from her slowly, every move sending waves of pain through her abused body.
Captain Ruhger and Grant finished securing the shuttle and turned to her. The Captain’s helmet was retracted and his normal glower was somehow comforting.
“Scholar,” Captain Ruhger said gravely, “once again, we need to talk. But it will wait until you’ve recovered and we offload all these extra passengers.” He smiled, the same tiny movement that wouldn’t be a smile to many, but Saree could see it. “Too many bored net experts on board to have a private conversation.”
Saree nodded, careful to keep the movement small and slow. It still hurt. “Yes, I suppose we do need to talk. I appreciate your restraint and the recovery time. I’m afraid any conversation I tried to have right now would quickly end with me snoring.”
Grant laughed. That was her cue to leave. Saree attempted to stand again and groaned. Suns, everything hurt so bad.
Both men looked alarmed. “Scholar?” Grant asked.
She smiled, but that probably looked pained too. “I’m just really stiff and sore and my feet are killing me. These are good boots, but they weren’t meant for trekking kilometer after kilometer of curved rock.”
Captain Ruhger huffed. “Well, there’s an easy solution for that, Scholar.” He stepped over to her, bent and swept her up into his arms, shifting her a bit until he got her balanced.
Saree blinked at him, shocked. “Umm…” Suns, such a sweet gesture. Not only did her feet hurt less, but she felt so very safe and… no, she couldn’t go further than that. Safe was enough. She put an arm around his neck to put some of her weight on his shoulders.
He smiled at her again. “Grant, can you get the hatch?”
“Certainly, mon Capitan.” Lowe grinned at both of them. “You’ve got your hands full, after all.” He opened the hatches and bowed elaborately. “I’d be happy to have a handful of you, Scholar. When you get tired of Captain Grumpy here, you let me know.” Grant winked and waved as Captain Ruhger walked away with her.
She laughed and waved back over Captain Ruhger’s shoulder. “He’s crazy.”
“Sure, but it’s a good crazy.” He lost the smile. “We’re all more than a little crazy on Lightwave, mostly for the same reason. We just show it in different ways.” They walked down a steep cerimetal stairway, the Captain rock steady.
Saree wrapped her arm around Captain Ruhger’s muscular neck a little tighter. “I can walk. This seems a little dangerous.”
“No, we’re fine. This is easy.”
“If you say so. I hope you don’t expect me to return the favor someday.” Suns, he had a solid chest. And his shoulders were so wide—her arm around his neck didn’t reach his far shoulder.
Captain Ruhger chuckled and she couldn’t help but stare in astonishment. It was so rare to get a smile; she’d never heard him laugh. He stopped at a hatch, and before she could ask, he said, “Open hatch. Ruhger, Captain.” The hatch unsealed and opened. He stepped through, still moving backward, and kicked the hatch closed. “Secure hatch. Ruhger, Captain.”
Saree heard the hiss of hydraulic seals, then chattering girls. The chatter abruptly stopped. She peeled her eyes away from the Captain’s face. They’d stepped into the passageway leading to the passenger shuttle airlocks and it was packed with teenage girls. All of them now giggling, exclaiming, oohing and pointing at them.
Captain Ruhger turned and walked toward her shuttle, striding past the girls, ignoring them completely as they stepped aside.
Saree sighed. “You realize you’ve just given them a reason to fantasize even more about you and raised terribly unrealistic expectations about men, right? Oh, and made the likelihood of becoming a full Sister of Cygnus even less?”
Ruhger’s glower turned to horror. “Oh, by the seven suns of Saga,” he muttered. “I can hardly wait to dump this load of giggling girls off on an unsuspecting planet. I’m sure there is a colony planet full of single men someplace, desperately waiting for such a miracle.”
“Oh, there are plenty of them.” Saree had landed on more than a few of them and been propositioned by all too many men, sometimes rather forcefully. “The problem is, they’re all looking for a combination cook, cleaner, mother and general laborer. None of them are going to sweep a girl off her feet unless she’s got a broken leg. And then they’ll complain bitterly about it.”
“More fool them,” the Captain replied. They stepped up to her airlock and Saree entered her codes, and repeated the same at her shuttle hatch, plus the DNA sample. Ruhger looked at her sharply but didn’t ask any questions.
“Welcome back, Scholar Sessan. Do you require medical assistance?” Hal asked in his old, slightly robotic voice.
“No, thank you, Hal. My feet just hurt. Captain Ruhger kindly offered me a ride.” He hadn’t actually asked, but she wasn’t complaining, that was for sure. Ruhger lowered her, setting her gently down on her bed.
“Do you require medical assistance, Scholar? Or any assistance?” The Captain offered her his tiny smile. “I can help you with those boots if you’d like.”
Saree’s first thought was ‘yes’ followed by a horrified ‘no!’ She grimaced. “I don’t think you want to do that, Captain. After more than two days, I’m pretty sure the stink will be overwhelming, if not a true hazard. Maybe chemical warfare.”
He chuckled again. “I’m sure mine don’t smell any better—not after running around in combat gear.” He picked up her right foot, unfastened the latches and lacings, and pulled the boot off. Ruhger’s nose did wrinkle but he refrained from saying anything. He did the left one and pulled her socks off too.
“Suns, that’s far beyond the call of duty, Captain!” Saree’s voice squeaked at the end of his title when he picked her foot up. His big hands cradled her foot, and he raised it farther, inspecting the bottom. He lowered it a bit, then started massaging the arch with his powerful thumbs. She moaned involuntarily. “Ohhhh,
that feels sooo good. Ohhh.”
“Lie down, Scholar, and relax. You’ve had a tough fold.”
Saree slumped flat on the bed, unable to hold herself up for another second as waves of relief swept through her. Ruhger continued working her foot, from arch to the toes, back to her heel, then up her ankle. He switched to her left, his strong fingers and thumbs finding and releasing tense muscles with a combination of intense pressure on particular points, deep massage and long, gentle strokes. Saree lost all coherent thought and reveled in the sensations. After a series of sweeping, soft strokes, he stood and pulled her feet around so she lay flat on the bed. He stroked both feet softly and pulled a blanket over her.
“Sleep first, then eat and shower.” He smiled, more than a little, but she could barely see through the tiny slit between her eyelids. The Captain bent and kissed her on the forehead. “Goodnight, Scholar. Sleep well.” He turned and walked away.
Saree’s eyes closed. His soft lips would inspire very sweet dreams.
∆∆∆
Ruhger pulled a utility wipe out of his calf pocket and cleaned his hands as he crossed the Scholar’s shuttle. Yes, her feet definitely stank, but he knew exactly how it felt to be on your feet for days and days, sleeping with your boots on. The foot rub was a tiny ‘I’m sorry’ for being abducted from his ship. Again. Unsurprisingly, her protest hadn’t lasted long. Ruhger grimaced. The surprise was his reaction to her response. The Scholar’s moans were downright sexy. He’d rather inspire her moaning in a completely different way. Preferably when he wasn’t in combat armor—or any clothing. Ruhger opened her hatch, secured it behind him and hit the button on the outer hatch door to open it.
“Captain Ruhger.”
The voice of her shuttle made him jump.
“Scholar Sessan has an item for the Sisters. She forgot to give it to you. Will you take it?”
