Star Survivor (The Sectors SF Romance Series Book 6)

by Veronica Scott

  Uncannily mute, the circle closed in on her. The original mob had been cursing at her, making lewd remarks about their plans for her. The current silence helped her center on the fact that this wasn’t real; she hadn’t been catapulted through time into the actual horror of the Nebula Dream. She felt an oasis of calm at her core. I’ve got this; I know what to do. Having just watched Khevan and Nick struggle on a different version of the Nebula Dream gave her a starting point, an anchor for her efforts to stay focused. The Red Lady had tipped her hand just a bit.

  A huge, ornamental vase full of faux branches blocked her path. The men pulled at her, hard, their hold on her arms and legs firm and unbreakable. Kicking and cursing, she was dragged into the center of the hall and lifted into the air on her back, as if in an obscene dance or as a sacrifice.

  “Khevan!” Twilka screamed so hard her throat was raw. Where in the seven hells was he? This was supposed to be a battle we’d fight together, wasn’t it? So why am I alone in a version of my worst nightmare?

  A flicker of black in her peripheral vision caught her attention and she craned her neck, relief flooding over her. He’d come.

  “In need of D’nvannae assistance?” A cold, sick feeling flooded through her body as she realized the newcomer was Harbin, leaning against the bulkhead, arms crossed, with a nonchalant smirk on his face. “Can you pay? What will you trade me to help you? No use waiting for Khevan. He doesn’t care enough about you to risk himself here on this ship again.”

  The men or creatures holding her went motionless, as if his voice was a signal, and Twilka squirmed until she was free of their grasp, falling to the deck with bone bruising force. Rubbing her sore tailbone with one hand, she pointed the other at Harbin. “You’re a liar. The Red Lady must be preventing him from coming to save me or he’d be here. You’re the last person I’d ever ask for help.” She scrabbled a few feet away and then rose to her feet, breaking into a run in the direction of the casino, where colorful lights blinked. She felt like she was wading through thick mud, unable to accelerate enough to escape. Terrified again, she glanced over her shoulder to find Harbin strolling slowly after her. The faceless men had disappeared.

  Red Lady’s mind tricks. She tried to run faster, although her knee and her tailbone ached from the fall.

  “You have to find him or both your lives are forfeit,” Harbin called out helpfully. “Although, if you do locate him, then of course I’ll be called upon to kill you both.”

  The lights were on in the casino and she could hear the clinking and chiming from games of chance apparently running on automatic, but no people anywhere. Who could help her anyway? Only Khevan. Everyone else she might encounter would be a servant of the Red Lady. Tense because time was growing short, she hobbled past the entrance and realized she’d reached the crew gravlift. Choking back a sob, she leaned against the wall and opened the door with the code Mara had taught her so long ago, in the real Nebula Dream. Her hands were shaking so badly it took her two tries. The portal slid open with a click and she leaned over, dizzy and nauseous at the sight of the tube going straight to the bottom of the ship. Closing her eyes, afraid of fainting, she collapsed against the bulkhead, barely remaining on her feet. There’s no time to indulge in a panic attack over the height. Khevan’s trapped somewhere in the Red Lady’s web and he needs me. Drawing a deep breath against the tightness in her chest, she stepped into the void, praying to the Lords of Space that the vengeful goddess had provided antigrav in her version of the Dream. The mechanism caught her as it was supposed to and gently let her drift down the levels of the ship.

  She heard the sound of clapping above her. Craning her neck, she stared at Harbin, peering over the edge. Raising his voice, he called to her, “Well done. I didn’t think you had it in you. But, never fear, we’ll meet again before this is over.”

  Where in the seven hells am I supposed to be going? Why isn’t Khevan with me and where can he be? Twilka racked her brain, searched her memories, and decided to try the cargo hold, based on their real experiences on the actual Nebula Dream. The Red Lady seemed to be applying twisted logic to her choices of scenario. Emerging from the gravlift, Twilka skidded to a halt. Instead of standing on a utilitarian deck, crammed with containers and equipment, she was on a dais in the center of a glossy black floor, where actual stars glittered, like the night sky. It was as if she’d been deposited in the middle of a galaxy. The gravlift and all vestiges of the faux Nebula Dream vanished like the illusions they were. Surrounding her were shelves, tables, pedestals, antigrav brackets, and cases full of objects—ornamental boxes, statues, paintings, clocks, elaborate stained glass, holograms, crystals, jewelry, books, scrolls, items she had no name for. The treasures were arranged apparently at random, lacking any organizational scheme she could detect.

  “Do you like my collection?”

  Twilka startled as the Red Lady herself strolled into view, barefoot, wearing a diaphanous, body hugging red gown, flames like a sun’s corona framing the piquant heart-shaped face she’d chosen to display since the start of merdamier. “These represent every Brother who ever perished in my service. I promise them a place in my memories and I keep my word, for I am infinite in my capabilities.” She picked up a small enameled figurine of a bird with two heads and examined the details for a moment before replacing it with utmost care. “I link each man’s identity to an item which pleases me to gaze upon and that will remind me of him when I visit this chamber of memories.”

  “Khevan isn’t dead,” Twilka said. “And neither am I.”

  The Red Lady tilted her head, raising her eyebrows. “Soon enough."

  “You’re supposed to be testing him, not me. I’m only here to help.”

  “Khevan wants to leave my embrace to be with you. Are you worthy of such a sacrifice? I view that judgment as an integral part of the final challenge. I can’t give him up to just anyone.” The Lady strolled through an aisle of the macabre museum and Twilka reluctantly followed, clenching her hands so her nails dug into her palms. She hoped the slight pain would ward off the vertigo brought on by walking across what appeared to be the bottomless pit of a starfield.

  Stopping to lift a long-stemmed flower and sniff it before rubbing the black petals against her cheek, the goddess said, “You did surprise me.”

  “When?”

  “In the first moments of this challenge. You defeated two of your own worst fears. I expected one or the other to paralyze you until the time elapsed.”

  “Glad to disappoint you. I know we’re limited on time for this challenge,” Twilka said. “What is it you want me to do? And where’s Khevan?”

  “Where indeed?” The Lady spun in a slow circle, waving the flower like a wand. Glittering black sparks flew in all directions, winking out harmlessly. “He’s here, if you can find him. After which, the two of you must win freedom by defeating warriors loyal to me.”

  Heart fluttering in her chest, Twilka stared at the nearest set of tables, which bore hundreds of items. Focusing on any one object in the clutter was a challenge. “I’ll never be able to search this entire place, not if I had centuries.”

  “True. These are the Brothers I called mine over many millennia, so their number is endless. But finding Khevan is the first part of your challenge, daunting though the task may be for a mortal woman. You say you love him…”

  “I do.”

  “Well then, let your heart lead you to him.” The Red Lady laughed, the sound eerie, raising chills on Twilka’s body. The goddess set the black rose on the edge of the table and faded from view, like a fire dying to embers until even the dark purple smoke dissolved.

  “Lords of Space, we’re in trouble, Khevan.” Twilka shut her eyes for a moment, reopening them to scan the closest part of the collection, hoping something—anything—would attract her attention and serve as a red flag indicating here was her beloved.

  No luck.

  She wished she’d at least asked the Red Lady what exactly to search for. Even a non-a
nswer might have provided a clue. Stomach in knots, she walked aimlessly in the direction the Lady had taken before she disappeared. Picking up an item at random here and there, before setting it carefully on the nearest cluttered surface, and moving a few more steps, she despaired. Speaking out loud to bolster her courage, she said, “How do I outthink an insane goddess? Khevan—or whatever she thinks reminds her of him—could be anywhere in this mess and her symbolic choice might mean nothing to me. I’ll be trapped here myself if I don’t figure out a strategy.” Catching sight of herself reflected in a large silver mirror, Twilka shuddered and averted her eyes. “And I hate this damn dress.” Talk about bad memories—the dress triggered memories of so many moments of terror, she could hardly stand the onslaught. For much of the last night on the Nebula Dream, she hadn’t exactly covered herself with glory. Hopefully she’d atoned before the situation ended, but, “I am so not that version of myself anymore!”

  The Red Lady had overwhelmed a more naïve Twilka in their encounter, later had stolen her man and her happiness. The dress symbolized the night and who she’d been. A reminder of her defeat when it came to keeping Khevan in her life.

  Fists clenched, eyes shut tight, anger making her heart pound, Twilka said, “I should at least be able to pick my own clothing for this contest—does she have to control everything?”

  When she moved, fabric swished against her ankles. “What the seven hells?” She gazed at herself in astonishment. No more midnight blue silk mini dress—now she wore the first dress she’d designed on Temple Home, the one she’d wanted to show Khevan, the one she was so proud of. The garment that launched her business. Fingering the fabric, she reminded herself once again, “Magic. This is all magic, all in my head.”

  Encouraged, she closed her eyes and tried to think only of Khevan. The loud ticking of an old fashioned chrono somewhere nearby distracted her, brought the awareness of the rapidly impending deadline racing to the surface, making chaos of her effort to concentrate only on the man she loved. “If I could find the damn clock, I’d smash it,” she muttered. “Cheap trick, Red Lady.” But effective.

  Twilka turned to explore a different part of the collection and the annoying clock sat on a table right in front of her. A foot high and the same in length, it was a marvel of intricate gold filigree, set with rubies. An archaic round face displayed the time by means of a long and a short arrow, crossed, and a small pendulum below swung with each tick. Two tariqnas done in red enamel reared on either side of the clock face, framing it in their obsidian claws, and a solid gold figurine of a woman in a flowing, lowcut gown sat on the top, face modestly downcast as she carried a bouquet. Leaning closer, Twilka saw the woman was the Red Lady and the bouquet was actually an armful of knives with fancy ornamental hilts. Goose bumps rose on her arm. “That wasn’t here a minute ago.” But I wished to find it and it came to me.

  Maybe I have more power here than I realize. She put her hand to her throat, where the small sun and star charm hung, suspended from a fine golden chain. The pendant represented the link between Khevan and herself, a pledge. Even the Red Lady’s men acknowledged the fact. Mara had lent her the chain so she could wear the golden charm as a symbol. “Khevan, we’re nearly out of time. Show me where you are, please.”

  She felt a tug on her hand, the one touching the necklace, as if he’d clasped it in his warm grip. Holding her breath, Twilka took a few tentative steps in the direction the invisible sensation seemed to be leading her. The pull became more powerful, as if an impatient companion wanted to drag her to a distant destination. She ran through the crowded room, swerving and dodging around the tables and shelves full of exotic items, until she stood in front of a series of black lacquered pedestals. The pull on her hand faded. Every square inch of the multi-level display was full of the Red Lady’s disorganized bric-a-brac, but one statue, off to the side, nearly hidden behind other items drew Twilka’s attention. Carefully, she moved a few pieces and lifted that one from the surface, stepping away from the table to better examine her prize.

  A breathtaking bone china sculpture, the statue stood easily two feet tall, and depicted an ancient warrior clad in intricate battle armor, sword raised to strike a foe, shield on the other arm braced to defend the woman who rode at his back, arms circling his waist. The pair clung to a rearing black horse, mane and tail flying as it too screamed defiance at the invisible enemy. Rotating the statue, Twilka nearly dropped it.

  The woman had her face.

  Sinking to the floor, her knees losing all strength, Twilka set the statue on the floor. “I’m not dead, I’m not one of her worshippers. How dare she include me in her collection?” Hot with rage, she examined the piece further. The warrior was unmistakably Khevan, his strong, handsome features rendered perfectly, the scarlet tariqna tattoo spread across his cheek and forehead, its tail winding around his neck like a collar to disappear below the edge of the strange metal uniform. She touched the rider with her fingertips, caressing his shoulder. “All right, here we are, together. Now what?”

  She’d hoped he’d magically appear once she found the right item, but nothing happened. She heard the infernal ticking again. The cursed clock had followed her and now sat on a nearby shelf, as if the timepiece was mocking her. Staring at the miniature Khevan, she whispered, “We have to get out of this creepy place.”

  Twilka spun the statue, racking her brain for a way to free her beloved and escape together.

  Turning her palms up and cupping her hands as if in supplication, she willed the white tariqna to appear. It had never been of any use whatsoever in the past, but maybe here, in this uncanny place of power, the apparition could help. Hadn’t the White Lady told Mara in her part of the merdamier challenge, she’d left one door open to possibility? Maybe this gift was the key. Within seconds, the creature manifested, sitting a few inches above her hands, wings wrapped protectively about its body, staring at her with baleful blue eyes. Twilka sighed. Same as always, pretty but useless. Kind of the way I used to think of myself, wasn’t it? Until events on the Nebula Dream had shown her otherwise, opened her eyes to her own inner strength and potential.

  “I need help,” she said to the beast. “Why did the White Lady give you to me, if not to be helpful? I don’t need cute souvenirs.”

  In the next moment she recoiled as the tariqna blinked, unfurled its iridescent wings, and rose into the air, hovering as it shifted its head from side to side, studying the surroundings. Twilka scrambled to her feet as the dragonlike beast expanded, becoming the size of a pony in the blink of an eye.

  It’s sure never done that before.

  Head tilted, eyes glowing, the creature focused on the statue on the floor at her feet.

  “No!” She grabbed for it, but the tariqna moved faster, capturing the figurine in its talons and flying away. Twilka ran to follow, cursing as she brushed past tables threatening to topple. She might hate the Red Lady, but she shrank from causing incidental damage by destroying the encapsulated memories of men and women who’d served her. Her quarrel lay with the goddess, not her people.

  Well maybe she’d make an exception to destruction for Harbin, but he wasn’t represented in this room, since he was still alive. Too bad.

  The tariqna led her to the dais where she’d first arrived, hovering over the platform until Twilka nearly overtook the beast. Then, almost in slow motion, the creature opened its talons and let the statue fall. With a scream, she lunged onto the dais, but was too slow to catch the object, and the china shattered into a million pieces as it hit the black floor. Twilka sprawled on the pedestal, writhing in pain, as if by breaking the statue’s representation of her, the tariqna had inflicted similar damage on the human model. Overwhelmed by the agony of all her nerve endings firing at once, she rolled onto her back and blacked out.

  “Beloved, come back to me.”

  Khevan’s deep voice penetrated the fog, enveloping her thoughts as he lifted her in his strong arms from the unforgiving floor, cradling her in his l
ap. She opened her eyes to stare into his handsome face, brow wrinkled in concern as he looked at her.

  “I’m here,” she said, raising one hand to cup his cheek, the one without the tattoo.

  He crushed her to his chest and kissed her ferociously, bruising her lips with the force of his demand. Twilka wound her arms around his neck and clung as close as she could get to him, while sharing the passionate kiss. When the embrace ended, she rested her head on his broad chest, taking a moment to luxuriate in the reunion, but conscious they needed to be on the move.

  “Where are we?” he said, raising his head and staring at their surroundings. “Why are we lying in a debris field? Were you hurling statuary at someone?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  The tariqna landed on the edge of the dais, folding its wings and shrinking to its former diminutive size before hopping to Twilka’s outstretched hand like a pet bird.

  Openmouthed, Khevan stared. “What is that?”

  “A gift from the White Lady, the most useless present in the entire galaxy until today.” She laughed as the tariqna lowered its head to stroke her hand before fading from view, blue eyes winking out last in an eerie manner. “I guess I needed the right occasion.”

  “Have you seen the Red Lady?” he asked. “How much time has elapsed in this challenge?”

  “Yes, I’ve seen her and I’ve no idea how much time we’ve used up. She said once I found you we’d have to defeat her loyal warriors to gain our freedom.” Swallowing hard, she said, “I guess that must be the mortal combat the Renegade described.”

  A loud ticking from the left of her signaled the arrival of the ancient clock, positioned just beyond the edge of the dais. “I should have asked the tariqna to drop you,” she said, grabbing a jagged hunk of the china horse and throwing it at the clock. The fragment struck the timepiece a glancing blow, knocking it over. Although it fell with a metallic clang, the clock’s malevolent ticking continued unabated.