by Nina Croft
The burn on his arm from the laser blast throbbed. His stomach still churned from the gas, but he forced down the nausea. He was bound upright, a chain at his throat. If he threw up right now, he’d probably choke on his own vomit. Not a way he’d choose to go.
One of the men with sergeant’s stripes on his arm came over to stand in front of him. He had the look of a career soldier, short hair, and perfectly creased pants. Jon just had time to notice them when the man’s fist shot out and cracked him in the jaw, and Jon’s mouth flooded with blood.
The man smiled at him, an expression that didn’t reach his eyes. Smile apart, the guy didn’t appear too happy. “Talk.”
Jon spat the blood from his mouth. It landed on the sergeant’s polished boots, and the man’s jaw tightened.
Hey, there was a plan. Maybe he could piss them off enough so they killed him quickly. He’d always been good at pissing people off.
“Talk about what?” Jon asked. “Them perhaps?” He nodded at the row of dead bodies lined along the hallway floor.
The sergeant drew a knife from the sheath at his thigh and studied Jon while he tossed the eight-inch blade from hand to hand. Jon’s own hand was splayed out on the arm of the chair. He only had a second to realize what the man meant to do when the knife flashed down and pinned him to the leather.
Shit. That hurt. He focused on the blade handle until he knew he could control the pain, then he smiled up at the sergeant. “Were they your friends? The men I killed? Boyfriends maybe?”
The sergeant reached out and twisted the blade. Red-hot agony shot along Jon’s nerves, black dots dancing before his eyes.
“Where are your friends?” he demanded.
Jon shrugged. “I don’t have any friends.”
It was the truth, but the thought sent a shaft of regret through him. He knew if he’d been a real member of the crew of El Cazador, they would never have left him behind to die. Even if it meant dying with him. He remembered how they had behaved with Alex. She had been a danger to the whole ship, and they could have handed her over at any time—even gotten a reward for doing it—but they hadn’t because she was one of them, and they would never give up one of their crew.
What would it be like to be part of something like that again?
He was never going to find out now.
A second man came to stand beside them. “Sergeant, we’ve received a comm. The Collective are on their way. They said to hold him but don’t talk to him.”
“Screw the bloody Collective.” The sergeant loosened his grip on the knife and stepped back. “This piece of shit killed our men; that means he’s not getting out of this room alive. We’ll get whatever information he knows before we finish him.” He looked around. “Has that interrogation kit arrived yet?”
Interrogation kit? Jon didn’t like the sound of that. The improvised stuff he could take, but if they started on him with the real professional shit, he probably wouldn’t last long. It had nothing to do with how much pain you could take, but the drugs played with your mind. He knew. He’d used them before.
The good thing was there was nothing he could tell them. The only thing would have been the location of El Cazador, but he’d given Rico plenty of time to get away. El Cazador would be long gone by now.
“Yes, Sergeant. Where do you want it?”
“Where the fuck do you think I want it? Bring it over here.”
He placed the black case on the desk close to the chair where Jon was chained and opened it up. Jon tried not to stare at the contents. The sadistic bastard took his time choosing what to use. Jon forced his muscles to relax, but he could feel everything tensing up. The sergeant selected a syringe filled with a pale yellow liquid. He attached the needle, held it in front of Jon’s face.
Jon swallowed down the hot bile that rose in his throat. He really wasn’t looking forward to this.
“Last chance,” the sergeant said. “Where are your friends?”
“I told you—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish. Without warning, the needle was stabbed into the muscle of his thigh. Instant agony shot through his body. His muscles tried to convulse, but the chains held him in place. He locked his jaw so he wouldn’t scream as the fire raged along his nerve endings as though he burned from the inside.
His head fell back, and he closed his eyes and tried to ride the pain. Finally, it receded until he could think again. He blinked open his eyes as another needle came down, and this time he couldn’t prevent the scream that tore from his throat.
Everything went black for a brief moment of respite. When he came around, his whole body was one big, throbbing mass of hurt.
He’d thought they wouldn’t go too far until they were sure he didn’t have anything useful to say, but it looked like they wanted payback for their friends more than they wanted the information. And they were in a hurry. The Collective were on their way.
One of the things he hated about dying right now was the fact that he still had no clue what was going on. Had Aiden Ross really committed suicide? And if so, why? And who was trying to stop Jon from talking about it?
He was avoiding thinking about the other reason he didn’t want to die, but Alex kept insinuating herself in his thoughts. Was it selfish of him to hope that she would be a little bit grieved by the news of his death?
He clung to the thought as another needle arced toward him. Would this be the one to finally finish him off?
…
Alex stood on the ramp of El Cazador and stared at the speeders in disbelief. Rico and Janey were in the first. Janey was slumped in the passenger seat with her eyes closed. Skylar was alone in the second.
No Jon.
Her mind searched for an explanation but came up blank.
She hurried down as Rico got out of the speeder and leaned in to pick up Janey.
“Where is he? Where’s Jon?”
Rico’s expression remained blank. “We left him behind.”
“You what?” The question came out as a shrill scream. Alex didn’t care; sheer terror filled her mind. “You left him behind? How could you?”
Janey’s eyes flickered open. They were dull with pain. “He offered, Alex. We couldn’t stop him, and we wouldn’t have gotten out without him.”
Alex wanted to scream that she didn’t care. They should never have left him.
She had to get out there—find him, save him. He’d saved her twice now. How could she leave him when he needed her?
“We have to go back. We have to go get him.”
“Will you shut the fuck up for one second,” Rico snarled.
For once, he didn’t intimidate her, and she opened her mouth to argue as Tannis appeared at the top of the ramp. She took one look at Janey and hurried down. For the first time, Alex noticed how ill Janey looked. Alex had never seen her less than immaculate; now her hair was mussed, and a sheen of sweat gleamed on her pale skin.
“Is she all right?” Tannis asked.
“She will be, but she needs treatment.”
“I’ll take her.”
“No,” Rico said. “We’re going to need you. Where’s Daisy.”
“On the bridge. Readying for takeoff.” She looked around. “Jon’s not here?”
“No, he’s not. Look, comm Daisy—tell her takeoff is delayed and to meet me in the sick bay.”
He disappeared inside the ship with Janey cradled in his arms.
Alex gnawed on her lower lip, trying to cling to the little gleam of hope his words had brought to life. If takeoff was delayed, maybe Rico meant to go back. Alex would go alone if she had to, but she had no illusions that she would succeed without help. She couldn’t stand still when Jon could be somewhere hurt or dying—some things you had to do even if you knew from the start they were doomed to failure.
She hurried across to where Skylar and Tannis stood talking in low voices. Skylar glanced up as Alex approached, and a flash of pity showed in her eyes. That look terrified Alex all over again.
“What happened?” she asked. “Is he still alive? Who took him?”
“They got in, got the information, but someone must have been monitoring the place. A squad of the local Guardia turned up. Luckily, it wasn’t Corps or we’d probably be dead. Janey was hit, and Rico had to get her out of there. There was no way they could win in a full-frontal attack, so Jon offered to hold them off while Rico took Janey out the back route.”
Fear and panic clawed at her mind. She needed to think straight. They didn’t know he was dead. “How many were there? Is there any chance he got away?”
Skylar shook her head. “I’m sorry, Alex. There were too many. But I intercepted a call. The Collective are on their way to pick him up. So right now, he’s still alive.”
“We have to go get him.”
“We will.” It was Tannis who answered, and some of Alex’s panic receded.
“Do we need to move the ship?” Skylar asked. “Do you think he’ll break?”
“Jon won’t break,” Tannis replied. “I’ve never met a more stubborn bastard.”
Alex agreed, but her stomach churned at the thought of what they might be doing to him, and she itched with the need to get moving. She wanted to jump into one of the speeders and head off right now. But she didn’t even know the way.
“Come on. We’ll go get some more weapons while we wait for Rico.”
Alex followed them up the ramp and across the docking bay to the weapons locker. She waited as Skylar strapped on a second laser pistol. Tannis replaced her weapons belt with a new one that was bigger and bulkier. She slotted a number of round grenades into the pockets at the front, a blaster gun on one hip, and a laser pistol on the other. She was finishing up as Rico appeared.
“You need anything else?” Skylar asked.
He shook his head. “I’m good. Let’s go.”
Alex stepped forward. “I want another gun.”
They swung around to stare at her. No way were they leaving her behind.
“I’m coming,” she said.
Rico studied her, his lips pursed. Finally, after what seemed an age, he nodded. “Give her the medical kit. If we do find wolf-boy alive and by some miracle we get him out of there, she can mop his fevered brow.” His gaze returned to her face. “But stay out of the line of fire—you’re a liability we don’t need.”
…
The speeder drew to a halt outside an impressive set of tall gates. They stood open, and Alex could see the imposing house at the end of the drive. At least five vehicles were parked outside, but since none of them were Collective they still might be in time.
She twitched with the need to move, and there was a definite chance that she might throw up if something didn’t happen soon. But they had come up with a plan, and they’d be in there in a moment.
“Okay,” Skylar said. “Give me a couple of those gas grenades, just in case.”
Tannis handed them over, and Skylar slipped them in her pocket. “Alex, you come with me. Bring the medical kit.”
Skylar planned to pretend to be an advance from the Collective, here to make sure the prisoner was ready and in a fit state for transfer. Alex was obviously the medic, in case he wasn’t in a fit state, but she didn’t even want to think about that.
The best-case scenario was they would get Jon out without a fight before the Collective appeared to pick him up, but everyone seemed to think that was unlikely, and no one seemed particularly bothered by the idea of a fight. Excited more like. Alex wished she could feel excitement, but she couldn’t see beyond the panic that clawed at her guts. She had been given strict instructions—if Skylar gave her the signal she was to take cover fast. The signal was the word “backup.”
As they stepped into the hallway, Alex’s mouth dropped open. The walls were lined with the most extremist of religious images. Loads of divine retribution was being dispensed on every side.
The place appeared full of people. They’d all stopped whatever it was they were doing and looked at Skylar as she stepped through the doorway. They took in the black uniform with the violet insignia of the Corps blazoned on her left breast, and their gazes shifted as one to her luminescent violet eyes. And every one of them inched away as though they didn’t want to get too close.
Alex gave her a sideways glance. She had come to think of Skylar as her friend, but watching her now, she could understand why they backed off. Skylar appeared taller; her eyes glowed brighter.
A shiver ran through Alex. While maintaining an outward show of support, the inner circles of the Church had always maintained that the Collective were ultimately evil. That Meridian somehow changed the people who took it, tied their souls to their bodies. And looking at Skylar as she assumed the full persona of the Collective, there was something inhuman about her.
Alex shook off the feeling. Skylar might be different, but Alex would never believe she was evil.
“Where’s the prisoner?” Skylar spoke to the room in general without bothering to introduce herself.
No one seemed to want to take responsibility for answering.
“Someone better speak up. Fast.” Even Alex got a chill of fear from Skylar’s tone. Finally, as the silence stretched out, one man stepped forward.
“Through there, ma’am.” He gestured toward an open doorway.
Alex peered in, but she couldn’t see past the small knot of men. She followed Skylar as she strode across the hallway, her boots echoing on the tiled floor. The group parted, and she caught her first sight of the man strapped to the chair.
Oh God.
…
The world had been reduced to nothing more than pain. Pain that burned, pain that froze, other indescribable pain.
There was a second of respite while his tormentor fiddled with his case of goodies and decided what to try next. They were obviously having fun. At least he was going to die making someone happy.
He hadn’t told them anything; though he wasn’t sure they cared either way.
Shit, the sergeant had made his decision. The syringe held a lurid pink liquid, and Jon winced. He opened his mouth to make a comment, to prove he wasn’t beaten yet, but at that moment, there was a commotion in the doorway, and they all turned to look.
At first, he couldn’t see anything as men stood in the way. They parted slightly, and the first thing he saw was a black uniform. The Collective had arrived.
He wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or bad. At least they were likely to finish him off quicker. No dwindling away in the Meridian mines this time.
His gaze was drawn to a figure standing beside the Corps officer. She was small but hard to miss in a bright pink jumpsuit. His vision blurred, and he shook his head.
He must be hallucinating, because he could swear Alex stood in the doorway, a medical kit clasped tight against her chest. Blinking, he shook his head again to clear the sweat from his eyes. Yes, it was Alex, and he must look even worse than he felt because an expression of total horror was stamped across her face.
He looked again at the Corps officer. Last time his gaze hadn’t risen above the violet insignia on her chest. Now he looked into her face.
Skylar.
She frowned at him, and he realized something must be showing on his face. He hoped it wasn’t what he was feeling right now, because that would be plain embarrassing.
They’d come for him after all.
They hadn’t flown away and left him to rot.
He was actually feeling all warm and fuzzy. It must be the drugs.
He forced his brain to concentrate. They weren’t out of here yet. Skylar must have convinced them she was from the Collective, but that would only last as long as it took the real Corps to turn up.
Alex had managed to get her expression under control, though he could still see the shock reflected in her huge eyes.
The sergeant didn’t appear suspicious, just pissed off that he’d lost his chance to finish Jon off.
“Release the prisoner, Sergeant.” Skylar’s tone gav
e nothing away.
“He’s dangerous, ma’am, best keep him tied up until your people get here.”
Skylar stepped closer. “Do you think I need ‘my people’, Sergeant? I said release him.”
“Give us a few more minutes, and he’ll tell us everything he knows.”
The guy was persistent. Or an idiot. It took balls to go up against a Corps officer.
“But we don’t want him to tell you anything. Which is why you were specifically ordered not to interrogate him.”
Her tone was still blank, but even so, she radiated a sense of menace. The sergeant must have finally noticed as well; he was slow but not entirely stupid. He took a step back and nodded once.
Skylar moved toward Jon and stopped. Her eyes narrowed, and she turned to Alex. “Backup is here in thirty.”
Panic flared in Alex’s eyes, and she clutched the box tighter but nodded. Jon could see her muttering to herself, and he realized she was counting and suddenly knew what was going down.
There wasn’t a lot he could do trussed up like he was. But he could get out of the line of fire. He readied himself.
Out in the hallway, all hell broke loose.
The men’s attention was drawn to the open doorway. Faster than he could follow, Skylar drew her weapons. She stood in the center of the room, a pistol in both hands. He rocked his chair until it tumbled, finally crashing him to the floor as the lasers flashed over his head. Alex dived toward him and took cover behind the metal desk. All he could see of her was her feet sticking out.
As the men swung around at the sound, Skylar opened fire. Christ, she was good. They didn’t stand a chance. They were all down before they could even draw their weapons.
Skylar shot him a quick glance, saw he was still in the land of the living, and ran into the hallway.
Jon lay tied to his chair, staring at Alex’s feet. He was alive, and there was a good chance he was getting out of here. It didn’t seem possible.
There was a movement to the side, and he turned his head. The sergeant was down but not dead. His pistol was in his hand and aimed straight at Jon.
Just when you thought your luck had changed…
