by Leslie Chase
"We can discuss that downstairs," the crooked cop said cheerfully, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. "Now are you going to come quietly? Or are we going to have to cuff you?"
"I want my lawyer."
The men holding her laughed, and the leader shook his head slowly, almost sadly. "Sweetheart, you've been watching old Earth shows, haven't you? The rules aren't the same out here. Now are you going to cooperate or are we going to have to drag you downstairs kicking and screaming? Because I can promise you that you won't enjoy that experience."
The nasty spark in his eyes and the sickly-sweet warmth in his voice told Gillian that he might enjoy it, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. Zardan will find me, she told herself. This is part of the plan. Sort of, anyway. It would lead them to the heart of the enemy, the people they had to deal with.
It wasn't as though she had a choice, anyway. No one on the concourse around them looked in the least bit interested in getting involved in the arrest, and she couldn't blame them. It wasn't as though she'd have done any different in their place, after all. Gillian glared up at the smiling man as his companion dragged her towards the elevators beside the hub. There was no point in trying to fight, not here and now.
Once the elevator doors closed and they started their descent, she risked speaking up. Without an audience, perhaps they wouldn't feel the need to shut her up?
"How much is Danforth paying you for this, anyway?" she asked. "It can't be cheap."
"It's good pay for an easy bit of work," the man said, grinning. "Beats rounding up drunks for a pittance, anyway. And it's not like you made it hard work — the computer flagged your call out of the station as soon as it started. Should have been more careful."
"I didn't have much choice," Gillian said angrily. "I'm trying to save my family here."
"Sure, sure." It wasn't that the man didn't believe her, she thought. It was worse. He didn't care whether she was telling the truth, and that made Gillian angry. She tried to control the emotion, to channel it and keep it from taking control of her. This man clearly had no problems hitting her if she pissed him off.
And maybe he's right, I could have tried getting someone else to place the call, she admitted. But then what? Maybe they'd still have spotted it, and I'd just have gotten someone else in trouble as well.
There was no point in worrying about past mistakes now. Better to look for new opportunities. Escape looked impossible, but there was no reason not to spread some discontent amongst the enemy.
"It doesn't sound like you're being paid enough, then," she told him. "I mean, you've got no idea how rich Danforth and his lot are going to get off this, and they're paying you crumbs."
The security man snorted. "Come on, how much can a little thing like you be worth? They get to foreclose on your farm without trouble, right? Not exactly a lottery win."
"Maybe you should have listened to my call before you pulled the plug," Gillian said, letting a little of her anger show. "Then you'd know what that land is really worth."
"Oh yeah? So why don't you tell me now?"
"Nope." Gillian forced a grin. "I don't owe you anything. You can ask your pal Danforth, or you can wait and watch him leave you in the dirt."
For a moment she thought he'd hit her again, but then the elevator came to a halt and its doors slid open. Grabbing her by the arm and glaring, the security man pulled her out and down a corridor. They were well below the surface now, Gillian was pretty sure, and in the parts of the station reserved for maintenance and supplies. A good place to hide a conspiracy, perhaps, but Gillian felt a little better. If Danforth was operating in secrecy it implied that he didn't have full control of the station. Otherwise, surely, she'd be taken to the security service's cells?
They walked wordlessly, but she could feel the man fuming as he led her deeper into the tunnels. Good. If he's questioning himself, that might give me a chance to do something.
Even if it didn't, driving a wedge between Danforth and some of his minions was a small victory. Anything that pushed them apart might give Zardan an opening when he came to rescue her. Which he would. He had to.
"In here," the man snarled at last, shoving her through a door and into a large storage area. It had been modified into a living space with furniture and some supplies, and a football game was playing on a screen on one wall. Sitting around a table, watching the game, were three men, but Gillian only really saw one of them.
"Dad!" she cried out, pulling away from her guard and leaping forward to hug him. The impact drove the air out of him in a whoof and he nearly tumbled from his chair. He winced as she squeezed him, and his face was bruised and battered. But still, his answering embrace was powerful, holding her tight and giving her strength. "Dad, I was so scared."
"I know," he answered, his voice cracking. "God, Gillian, I wanted to get back to you so badly."
They held each other for a long moment and only then did Gillian become aware of the sarcastic applause from across the table. Looking up with a glare she saw Brooker Danforth clapping his hands slowly as he smirked.
"Well, isn't this a happy sight," he said. There was a bright core of rage in his gaze and a painful-looking bruise on his cheek. "I'm glad I could facilitate this reunion. I'd have done it ages ago if you weren't both so fucking stubborn, but hey, there we go."
"You kidnapped me," Gillian's father said, glaring across the table. "You held me here and threatened my children."
"Yes, yes I did," Danforth said, not quite able to hide his contempt. "And if you'd only sold out like I told you to, you'd have gotten to go home free and clear. Or if your darling daughter here had accepted the repossession, I wouldn't have had to keep you this long. But no, you had to be violent. And now here we are."
Gillian couldn't help smiling a little at that. Did that mean that Danforth's bruise was her father's work? It sounded like it. Way to go, Dad!
Reluctantly loosening her embrace, she glared at Danforth. "You realize that this is pointless, right? Killing us doesn't get you what you want, so you can't win. Even if I was less stubborn than my father, that wouldn't help you — you'd still need him to agree to whatever you want."
From the door behind them came a booming voice. "In that case, there's no value in keeping either of you alive, is there?"
Gillian spun to see a pair of dragon shifters walking through the door behind her. Looking up at them reminded her of just how big and dangerous the shifters were: tall, broad, and muscular, their deep red skin gleaming in the light, they dominated the room without trying. Unlike Zardan, these dragon shifters didn't make her feel safe at all. Each was a threat, a deadly one, and she fought the impulse to instinctively retreat.
It was a small comfort that the security guards both took a step back from them, hands nervously brushing the stun batons at their belts. The shifters glanced at them, contempt rippling from them.
Only Danforth seemed untroubled by the new arrivals.
"Lord Karaos, Lord Sarax," he said by way of greeting, standing and smiling. "There's no need to frighten our guests, not when I'm sure they'll be reasonable."
The tone of his voice was anything but reassuring, and the lead shifter's laugh showed just how seriously he took the admonition. It was a cruel, cold sound, and Gillian felt her father's hand tighten on her shoulder. That must be Karaos, she realized, fear warring with her anger. The leader of these dragons.
"Maybe," the dragon lord said as he approached the table and sat down. The other stood against the wall, folding his arms. "Let's see if you're right. Humans can be so... foolishly stubborn at times."
Danforth opened a briefcase and took out two contracts, shoving one across the table to Gillian and the other to her father. She glanced down at it, frowning. From the front page of the document, it was the same as the offer he'd made at the farm.
Wrinkling her face in distaste she pushed it back. "I didn't sign it before, why do you think I'll do it now?"
"To save your life?" Danforth fr
owned, as though the very idea of her sticking to her guns was alien to him. "To save his life? Because it's the best deal you're going to get, and you might as well walk out of this room with some money in your bank account?"
She folded her arms and sat back. "I don't know if your hired goons told you, but I got through to the piracy patrol. Told them enough that they will investigate. So, if you kill us you're going to get caught long before the inheritance is sorted out. Let us go and you won't have to deal with the murder charges on top of everything else."
It wasn't exactly a bluff, but she certainly wasn't as calm as she tried to sound. Her heart pounded and all she could think about was how close they were to death. But she kept her face straight and glared at Danforth, ignoring Karaos for the time being.
Danforth glared straight back at her, his eyes narrowing.
"Imbeciles," he snapped at the guards without looking away. "How could you let her make that call?"
"Hey, you don't pay us that well for our cooperation," the leader of the guards said with a hint of bitterness in his voice. "This isn't retirement money, right? We still need to have our jobs after this."
"Yeah," his companion added. "Blocking every call out of here would have gotten us caught right quick. You want us to do that, you need to pay a hell of a lot more than you did. Seems like you're too cheap to get what you need."
"It doesn't matter," Karaos rumbled, flicking his hands in a dismissive gesture. "Stick with the plan, Mr. Danforth. As long as they sell the farm now, we can weather things long enough for us all to make our piles of gold."
Danforth dragged a hand through his hair, looking away from the guards.
"At least we don't have to worry about Zardan's claim on the land anymore," he said. "You did get that right, didn't you?"
Gillian tried to keep her expression straight, but she could feel the blood drain from her face at that. It's a bluff, a trick, it has to be.
But the guard captain nodded. "I told you, all right? It's handled. My boys are dealing with the cleanup now."
Karaos chuckled darkly. "A shame that I didn't get a rematch against him. I would have liked that. But better that he's out of the way neatly, I suppose. Pity about Graxon, though."
Danforth shrugged elaborately. "A shame, yes, but Graxon had served his purpose."
"And with him gone," the guard chimed in, "there's more money to go around to the rest of us."
Feeling her blood freeze, Gillian clenched her teeth and glared. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't — the idea that Zardan was dead didn't seem real. And yet the way they spoke about him was convincing. They weren't gloating at her or taunting her, just talking amongst themselves.
She still couldn't believe it, but it was hard to doubt too. Her father reached out to squeeze her shoulder. He might not know who Zardan was or what he meant to Gillian, but he still offered her what comfort he could, and she appreciated that.
Karaos turned back to the two of them, smiling a cold, shark-like smile. "Back to the matter at hand. Take the deal, humans, and you get to live. Don't, and you can join Zardan in death."
"What makes you think either of us will sign that damned paper, you monster?" Gillian's father said angrily. Karaos smiled, turning to the dragon by his side and saying something in their own language. The other shifter saluted and strode off out of the room, shooting Gillian a glare before he left.
"We need signatures, true," Karaos said, switching back to English and addressing Gillian's father again. "And I don't doubt that you're both tough enough to resist our attempts to force you to sign. But you aren't the only members of your family involved here."
"Harry can't sign anything alone," Gillian said quickly, not liking where this was going. "You need two of us."
"That's right," said Danforth. "The two of you can take the payment and walk out of here with it. Or—"
"—Or my friend Sarax will burn your damned farm down to the ice it stands on, with the youngling inside," Karaos finished for him. Gillian paled and started to object.
"That won't get you anything," she said, angry at herself for letting her voice shake.
"I know," Karaos said. "But if you won't sign that paperwork, then I won't get what I want anyway. I might as well get my revenge instead. Thus, I swear by the Thousand Suns and the Dragon Throne: if you do not cooperate, Harry Willis will die by dragonfire."
"Lord Karaos is a hot-headed fellow," Danforth interjected, false sympathy dripping from his words. "If it were just me, I'd take my time and see if we couldn't come to some other arrangement. Unfortunately for you, you're not only dealing with me, and my partner has less patience than I."
Gillian looked from one to the other, seeing the hardness of their eyes. Both were determined to win this contest at any price, including Harry's life.
She swallowed, looking around at her father. He shook with anger and fear, and she could see the confusion and pain on his face. His expression mirrored her feelings all too well. If these bastards were willing to go through with their threat...
No. It was too awful to think about. And too awful to risk, as well.
"What will it be, humans?" Karaos said, smug sadism filling his voice. "Take the money and run, or see the little human burn?"
20
Zardan
Zardan woke groaning in pain, his entire body on fire. His wings hurt worse, their injuries still not healed, and the agony that shot through his back made his body shake as he pried open his eyes. The room around him seemed to shimmer before his eyes, and he heard a rushing noise.
It was only when he saw a sheet of paper blow past him on the wind that he realized what was happening. He was in an airlock, and the outer door was opening. The air around him rushed out into the near-vacuum beyond.
Emperor's Blood, he swore as he pulled himself to his feet, his hands digging at his belt for his airmask. It was gone.
He tried to remember his training. Every dragon warrior learned how to deal with a sudden vacuum, and just like all the others he'd forgotten it within a year. No one actually expected to use it, not when they could shift into their warforms and hold their breath for hours. In humanoid form, though, he would only live for minutes at most without air.
Don't hold your breath. That much Zardan remembered — if he tried, his lungs would burst and fill with blood. Keeping his mouth open, he let the vacuum take his breath away. Now he wouldn't have long before he passed out, but at least if he found air he'd be able to breathe it.
Looking around quickly, he tried to take stock. He was in a vehicle airlock like the one Gillian had left her crawler in, and if it hadn't been for the human vehicle parked next to him there might have been space to shift. As it was, he'd be crushed in the small space even if his injuries allowed him to make the shift at all.
Beside the vehicle lay Graxon, unmoving on his back. Zardan quickly checked the other shifter for a pulse and found nothing. Perhaps it was just too weak to find in a hurry, but Zardan doubted it.
I'll shed no tears for him, but this is no way to treat a dragon warrior's corpse. Not even a cowardly traitor like Graxon.
His own corpse would be treated just as shoddily if he didn't get out of there quickly. The outer doors were only open a crack, enough to let the air out but not enough for him to escape through. A quick test of the controls showed him that they'd been disabled. He could neither close the doors nor open them. He turned back to the inner doors, his vision starting to blur and darken as his body called out for oxygen.
Above him, a thick glass window looked down into the chamber and behind it Zardan saw two of the security staff watching with a frightened intensity. They hadn't expected him to wake up, Zardan realized, and they weren't happy to see him on his feet. Well, that was fair. He wasn't happy to wake up in here either.
And when he got his hands on them, he intended to share that pain with them.
First, he needed to escape. Slamming his fists into the inner door, the boom of the impact almost silent i
n the near-vacuum. Zardan hammered on the door, but it was futile. The door was solid metal, and barehanded he couldn't even dent it.
With a snarl he turned back to the guards, who looked relieved at his predicament. No help there. And the room was starting to spin around him. He only had seconds to find a solution before he passed out.
Can't find another way in while I'm trapped in here. Can't get into the station from here. Can't stop to think.
But I can't fail, either. Gillian needs me.
There was a control panel beside the door, but of course it was dead. He ignored it, digging into the ducting beside it. The cable from the controls showed him where it was, and he had to hope — yes!
Tearing aside the cover of the cable duct, he saw pipes as well as wires running there. And some of them looked big enough to be what he was looking for. Grabbing them, he discarded subtlety and pulled with all his strength. The metal resisted, bending slowly as he pulled. Bracing a foot against the wall he tried again.
The metal gave, just a bit, and he grinned. His vision was fading from lack of air, but he could just about make out the horrified confusion as the guards watched him struggle. This wasn't in their plan.
Tough luck, he thought, heaving again. This time, the pipes tore away from the wall. One sprayed water everywhere. It was the other one he was interested in, though, bringing it to his mouth and inhaling deeply.
Sweet oxygen filled his aching lungs, and he almost laughed. There had to be an air pipe in an airlock but it was sheer luck that he'd been able to find it. He breathed again, deeply. Despite the oily, metallic taste of the piped air, it was the finest breath he'd ever taken.
Zardan's vision cleared quickly, and he looked up at the glass again to see the humans looking at each other and shouting. He could imagine what they were arguing about: someone was going to have to try and come into the airlock to deal with him, and no one wanted that honor. Zardan didn't blame them.
