“Be glad to have all that snow melted off today, won’t you?” she said, directing him to a table. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
He assumed the first was a merely rhetorical question, a greeting of sorts, and answered the second. “Yes. And pie.”
She considered him with a smile. “Well! A man who knows what he wants, I reckon! We have chocolate, lemon meringue, pecan and apple. What can I get you?”
Zouk stared at her in confusion. The comp hardwired in his brain was no good to him in making sense of what she had just said.
“It’s a lot to choose from, I know,” she laughed. “They’re all home-made, but I’m partial to the apple.”
“Then apple it must be,” he said, deciding she might just be susceptible to his charm, even if she was well past her prime.
“All right, then, honey. Be right back.”
She was quick, Zouk had to admit. He’d only just had a chance to study the others sharing the café with him when she returned, his coffee in one hand, a wedge-shaped confection on a plate in the other. She plunked it on the paper placemat in front of him, covering up the state of North Carolina, and added a fork and knife wrapped in a paper napkin.
“Enjoy!” she ordered. “Can I get you anything else right now?”
He thought it too early to interrogate her, so he shook his head. “This looks delicious.”
“Good. Hope you like it.” And she was gone.
He pondered the creation on his plate. It had started as a rough triangle, cut from the larger circular pie that had now been returned to a revolving cold case at the front of the restaurant. A crimped crust held a golden, lumpy filling, some of which was leaking out onto the plate. He dared a bite. Sweet! Spicy! Fat-laden satisfaction from the pastry that held it. He chewed in wordless amazement.
He was trying to think of other confections he’d experienced in the galaxy that might compare to this delight when the little bell over the door rang. He looked up, and the last bite of his pie slid untasted down his throat. He consulted his comp to confirm what he suspected.
The woman standing at the counter was Del Gordon’s nurse—Charlotte McIntyre.
“What’s an itty-bitty thing like you gonna do with two pies, Charlie?” the older woman was saying as she placed the pastries carefully in boxes. The two women were laughing; it must have been some kind of joke.
“I couldn’t even finish one by myself, Corinne,” the nurse—Charlie—said. “Happy would have to help me. No, I thought I’d split one with Louise and drop the other one off with Rafe Laurence, for him and his dad.”
Laurence, not Gordon.
“Well, that’s awfully sweet of you. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.” Another cursed bell rang and they chattered on as money was exchanged.
Money. He glanced down at a slip of green paper the woman had left on his table. It tallied the amount due for his pie and coffee. He hurried to find the necessary bills in his pocket and left them with the ticket.
Charlie was just wrestling her boxes out the door when the older woman named Corinne passed by his table with a carafe in her hand. “More coffee, honey?”
“No. Thank you. I’ll be going.”
She frowned, but he had no time for pleasantries now. He handed her the ticket and the money and got to his feet.
“Hold on and I’ll get your change,” she said, turning toward the counter.
He brushed past her. “You keep it. Corinne, was it?” She smiled uncertainly. “And the pie was delicious.”
Outside in the bright glare of the sun, he feared for a moment that he’d lost Charlie. Then he caught sight of her, two blocks away, bending to place the pie boxes in the passenger seat of an older model vehicle. It would be so easy to take her—and this time the shalssit Rescuers wouldn’t be dealing with ignorant dirtsiders when they came to get her. But it was too risky. He was alone, and he wasn’t sure how many of them there were.
Besides, simpler was always better. Follow her, go in, kill the old man and whoever tried to protect him, get out.
He made his way to the other side of the street where his own vehicle waited, keeping to the thin shadows cast by the shop awnings. He had to turn around to follow her car, losing precious time, but she hadn’t gone far, and he kept to a comfortable distance as she took the main route out of town.
Stupid vlitz, he thought, a predatory grin sliding across his face. She’s going to lead me straight to that old man. Maybe once I’m done with him, I’ll thank her in person.
Aboard the Rescue ship Shadowhawk, Rayna lay sleepless in the bunk she shared with her husband, worrying through the dark, quiet hours of the third watch. Their mission hinged on a key piece of information, detailed intelligence they had yet to receive from Ilia Ardis on board the Zenda. Until they had that intel, they were stuck here, in orbit around IzRa. And the longer they stayed, the more exposed they became.
Sam Murphy, exhausted by his duties as ship’s captain and not the kind of man to worry about what he couldn’t control, slept soundly behind her, one arm curled around her middle. Most nights she loved the secure feel of him holding her. Tonight, restless and prickly, she chafed under the weight of his arm.
A glance at the chrono told her it was almost a decent hour to get up—0400, the middle of the watch. There was no more hope for sleep; staying in bed would only disturb Sam. She sighed and slipped out from under him, leaving the bunk to pad across the cabin to her clothes. She dressed in the dark and was just pulling on her deck boots when she heard Sam stir.
“Where are you going at this hour?” His voice, still heavy with sleep, resonated deep in her chest. It occurred to her that there was at least one way to distract herself from her worries. She was tempted to crawl back into bed, with anything but sleep in mind.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said instead.
Sam sat up and ordered the lights to one-quarter. “The bridge will ping us when a message comes in. You know Ilia is working as fast as she can.”
“Yeah.” She blew out a breath. “It’s just—I hate this waiting around for something to happen. Everyone hanging on my every word, like I’m supposed to know the right thing to do here.”
Sam lifted an eyebrow. “Oh. I get it.” He patted the bunk beside him. “Come here, Little Bit.”
He seldom called her that now. She was an officer on his ship, an officer in Rescue, and certain rules applied. But in the bedroom they were husband and wife, not the captain and the Chief of Field Operations, Rescue. And the loving nickname still had the power to compel. She went and sat on the edge of the bunk, within his reach.
He put a warm hand on her thigh. “You know you’re the best person to lead this operation, right? You have the most experience, the most tactical skill, the best sense of the big picture? You’ve been planning and executing Rescue missions for a long time. This is just another, more complicated one.”
“What if I’m wrong about this, Sam?” She shook her head. “If we fail—”
“If we fail, Rescue will send another team. Or the Council will bring in ConSys and the Fleet.” He met her gaze, green eyes fixed on hers. “It’s not like you’ve gone rogue here, Ray. You went through channels for approval every step of the way. Marlena and the Council have your back. And so do I.”
She smiled at him. “I never doubted that, sweets.” She leaned forward to kiss him, letting the touch of his lips and the strength of his embrace warm her all the way through to her heart. He pulled her closer, and she’d begun to think she might go back to bed after all when the comm unit beeped.
She disengaged with some regret and reached to press the pad at the side of the bunk. “CFO.”
“Arnett, here, ma’am. I have an encrypted message for you from the Zenda. Shall I put it through?”
Ilia, finally! She turned and put her feet on the floor. “Yes. To the desk comp. Thank you, Arnett.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
Sam followed her out of the bunk, and they both hovered
over the desk as the encoded message appeared on the screen. She hit DECRYPT and waited as the symbols resolved into words, then read:
--Greetings, Director,
1) Intel indicates two Minertsan light battle cruisers assigned to ‘scientific’ duty at Tamira VII, see details attached.
2) I have had some success in the research project you assigned me GSD 5.07.102. Evidence supports your supposition that a group with the identifier Last Defenders exists within the Consortium. Members can be found at the highest levels of civilian government and military ranks (see list to follow). However, the three ruling Oligarchs are not members. Neither are the Fleet Admiral nor Commander Prime, Space Marine Battalions.
However, the Director Prime, Combined Military Research and Development, is a member, as are many of her highest-ranking officers. This person, Verina Leriss, has both the cybernetics skills and the authority to have been the creator of the planet-killer. She is, remarkably, the only female member of Last Defenders I found.
I have determined the following list of members, based on the “dark rider” comm carrier they use exclusively to communicate with each other. All such communications are signed with the ancient Minertsan glyphs for LD, in addition to the usual official signature.
At the end of the message were the specs for the ships mentioned and a long list of names, some of which Rayna recognized with a shock, many of which she did not. Beside her, Sam finished reading the message with a grunt.
“Only two ships at T7,” he said. “Manageable.”
“As long as Gabriel got his brother on board,” Rayna said.
“Mm.” Sam considered the list of names. “The new Ministers of Mines and Natural Resources and of Agriculture. Both with high labor requirements.”
“The Director Second of the Ministry of Defense,” Rayna noted. “But not the Commanding General.”
“No, they replaced old General Zipriss after Sennik’s attempted coup,” Sam explained. “He was an ally. The Oligarchy just didn’t go very far in purging Sennik’s sympathizers. Apparently a lot of them were in Last Defenders.”
“No, they left nearly the entire second tier of officers in the Fleet,” Rayna said.
“And almost everyone at the top of the R&D command, starting with Leriss.” Sam’s gaze rested on her face as he thought. “She could request ships at any time from her friends in the Fleet.”
Rayna nodded. “For ‘scientific’ purposes. Yes. And doctor any reports back to the Fleet so anyone not connected with Last Defenders would be none the wiser.”
“But why do all this in secret?” Sam puzzled. “The planet-killer is obviously of tremendous value to the Consortium. In fact, it’s a game-changer for the Grays.”
“Yeah, economically this thing means a never-ending supply of slaves for them at very little risk,” Rayna agreed. “I think the Last Defenders must have developed it as a slingshot to power in the Consortium. They plan a final takeover.”
“So, if we destroy it and expose them?”
Rayna laughed. “You’d think the gang at the top would be grateful, wouldn’t you.”
“Too much to ask?”
“Probably, but it’s worth a try.” She squeezed his arm. “I’m gonna call for some breakfast, then wake up Lana and Gabriel. Is the ’hawk ready to leave orbit?”
Sam pulled clean clothes out of a drawer and started getting dressed. “Fully supplied and ready to rumble. I want to hear what Gabriel learned from his brother, then we can be on our way.”
Rayna caught the anticipatory glint in his eye that mirrored the excitement she was feeling. At last the waiting was over; their path was clear ahead. Any scrap of self-doubt was gone.
The planet-killer was in their sights. They had only to pull the trigger.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Rafe had followed Charlie at a discreet distance as she parked outside the grocery store. He had positioned himself to watch as she looped through the aisles filling the cart and as she chatted with the young girl at the checkout. He had seen no one trailing her. As she loaded the bags into her Subaru and left the parking lot for Main Street again, he began to think they were in the clear.
But then Charlie made an unplanned stop at the little café in town. Rafe cursed as he drove past her car and found a parking space on the street. What the hell was she doing? He turned around in his seat to glare at her as she entered the café, but she didn’t look his way. Perai!
He waited in the wintry glare, hands drumming on the steering wheel. There were few other vehicles parked along the street, few people walking along the sidewalk. Even though the sun was warm enough to begin melting the snow, and gutters and roof corners dripped everywhere, the slush along the sidewalk made walking difficult, and the wind was chilling.
At last Charlie emerged from the restaurant, two white boxes in her hands. She went to her vehicle and balanced the boxes precariously against the frame while she unlocked and opened the door. Portal’s balls, could she make herself any more vulnerable? But, yes, she could—she bent to place the boxes on the passenger seat, oblivious to her surroundings.
And that’s when the café door opened again, and a man stepped out onto the sidewalk. He was tall and lean with muscle, his hair dark. His gaze scanned up and down the street until he saw Charlie. He marked her, then walked straight to a large, black SUV across the street, got in and started it up.
Rafe knew at once who he was. His height, his predatory focus, the way he moved. He was at least partly human, but everything about him said “Thrane.” Gabriel had it, too, that disturbing sense of underlying savagery, but Rafe had observed the iron will—and the compassion—with which Gabriel controlled his instinctive nature. This man, Vaalad Zouk, had none of those better qualities. He was a killer, through and through.
Still, Zouk wasn’t the only predator in this biosphere. Rafe lit up with anticipation as his own hunter’s instincts kicked in. This was his territory to defend; Charlie and Del were his to protect. As the Thrane turned on the street to follow Charlie’s Subaru, Rafe waited a beat and pulled out to follow him. The trap they had set had attracted the veer. Now they needed only to snap the creature’s neck.
He reached for his comp and pressed the connection for Charlie’s phone. It buzzed a frightening number of times before she answered.
“You’re going to yell at me for stopping to get pie,” she said. “You’ll forgive me once you taste it.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. “What? No.” He hadn’t realized how distracting it would be to try and talk to her and keep Zouk in sight on the winding road at the same time. “Never mind that. I want you to listen very carefully and do exactly as I tell you. Keep driving just as you are. Don’t speed up or slow down. And for Portal’s sake, don’t stop until you get to my cabin.”
Her voice lost its teasing tone. “Why would I do any of those things?”
“Zouk is behind you on the road.”
She was quiet for a heartbeat. “Black SUV?”
“That’s him. I’m following far enough behind that he won’t notice.”
“You hope.”
He ignored the stab of annoyance at her insight; there was nothing to keep Zouk from noticing the persistent Jeep in his rearview mirror. “Make sure he sees you turn at the driveway. No doubt he’ll pass then and circle back around. We just need to lure him in.”
“Got it. Slow down with the blinker on way ahead of the turnoff.”
Her voice was all business now, and strong, showing no sign of the fear he knew she must be feeling. “You’re doing great, beautiful,” he said. “Just a little while longer and we’ll have him. I’m going to sign off now and talk to the security team, okay?”
He heard her exhale. “Okay. And, Rafe? Be careful.”
“Always.” He would have said more, but the turnoff was coming up in less than a kilometer. They both needed to pay attention.
He hit the pad for Javin Darto and started talking as soon as the big man answere
d. “Go-time, Javin. Zouk is following Charlie in, and I’m right behind him. Where are your men deployed?”
“The twins are on the perimeter; I’m inside.”
“That’s good. Stay sharp. Get Charlie inside as soon as she pulls up. I’m going to stay on Zouk as long as I can. With any luck, I’ll follow him right up to my front door.”
Javin snorted. “He’ll have the whole team up his ass by that time. Good hunting.”
He slowed his vehicle to drop behind as the turnoff came up. Still, he was close enough to see Charlie’s Subaru turn left and head slowly up the gravel driveway. He was at least 100 meters down the road as Zouk’s SUV passed the turnoff and continued at a snail’s pace along the highway. So far everything had gone according to plan.
Rafe held back, anticipating that Zouk would look for a place to turn around and circle back, and not wanting to be spotted as the assassin pulled off the road. But he hadn’t figured on the curve in the road ahead that took the SUV out of sight. Cursing, Rafe sped up. He rounded the bend—and saw nothing but highway.
Shalssit! He hit the brakes and pulled off to recon both sides of the road. To his left three gravel roads, none of them with a road sign, snaked up the wooded mountainside, one right after the other. The SUV hadn’t paused at the entrance to any of them to turn around. All three showed recent tracks in the slushy snow; any of them could have been Zouk’s.
Rafe pounded the steering wheel in frustration. Then he picked up the comp to let Darto know.
“Zouk must’ve seen me,” he said. “I’ve lost the sonofabitch.”
Two hundred million kilometers from the star Tamira, a distance too short to be measured even in a fraction of the parsecs and light years his ship usually travelled, Trevyn Dar ordered the Blood’s Honor to slow its headlong rush through space.
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