“What if we retro-fit the Stargazer with some old school pre-war technology instead of the faster, newer, flashier and more expensive ones with lots of capabilities?” Gray asked all of a sudden. He didn’t seem to be talking to them anymore.
Jeremy frowned wondering how ancient technology could possibly help. “Like what?”
Gray’s expression morphed to an unexpectedly wily one. “Let’s say that I know someone, or rather my wife, Penelope, knows about a person who may be able to help us. He’s a fellow scientist, who has been tooling around the galaxy on occasion using technology so old, none of the new systems can recognize it. Especially not the expensive systems used by Bravura or District Six. The man claims it’s like flying invisible. He invented it himself from scrap heap parts he found on abandoned war zone planets.”
“Do you believe it works? Has he tested it?”
Gray shrugged. “Not sure what tests he’s done, but he also said that he can retro-fit any of the emergency life pods with the older technology as well as shuttles aboard any advanced ship. Until this moment I couldn’t think of any reason I’d want to do it.”
“That sounds promising. What’s the catch? Does it cost five billion credits? Is it dangerous to humanoids health-wise while in use on commercial space craft? What problem will arise if we go this route?”
Gray pushed out a long breath. “Time. It will take several weeks, maybe up to a couple of months, to fit the Stargazer with all that would be needed to avoid detection. And it’s never been tested in the Forbidden Zone. For all I know they have a hundred years’ worth of detection equipment at their disposal to safeguard their interests.”
Jeremy’s hands fisted at his side. Time was so precious. Angelica had been gone far too long already. Either she was confined in the Forbidden Zone somewhere hating her life, or she was dead. Possibly vaporized along with her ship, the Mirage, and her entire crew. No. She’s still alive. Wouldn’t I feel it if she were gone?
“And for an added challenge, I’m about to go to detention.” He gestured to the paper in Gray’s hand.
“Oh no. I’m sending Nathan as they’ve requested. By the time they figure it out it isn’t who they want, you will have been so quiet as you retro-fit your spacecraft, they may have forgotten about you.” My spacecraft? Jeremy hid a smile. Gray was allowing him to do something he knew no other captain in the any of the fleet districts would ever allow. Tamper with one of his newest ship to make the stealth technology on the craft obsolete so that Jeremy could continue his search.
“Wait a minute,” Nathan piped up. “Where’s a plan that includes a part where I don’t have to go to detention?”
Gray smiled broadly. “Suck it up, Buttercup. You’ll be just fine.”
Nathan initially gave Jeremy a foul look, but seemed to accept his coming fate with a mischievous grin and the slight shake of his head.
Jeremy was briefly overcome with emotion. He would forever be indebted to these two men. His crewmates. His friends. And most importantly, men who wanted Angelica to return almost as much as he did. Because she was also their crewmate and their friend.
She deserved nothing but the very best of everyone’s effort to find her. He hoped she knew he wouldn’t stop looking for her until he knew exactly where she was.
Jeremy vowed not to even sleep until the Stargazer was completely retrofitted with what was needed to enter the Forbidden Zone without detection.
He didn’t know whether to hope he found Angelica there or not. If she was there, she’d at least be alive. If she wasn’t in the Forbidden Zone, then he’d have to entertain and eventually accept the idea that she was dead.
Unfortunately, Jeremy didn’t have the capacity to exist in any relevant way in a world without Angelica.
Chapter Six
Parisa pushed her sweaty shoulder blades backward into Will’s strong battle-tested body, connecting their flesh. He’d already dispatched the two horrid hybrid beasts set upon them at the outset of the match.
The over-sized creatures with heads like a lion, but also with eight legs each and sporting razor sharp claws, had been another new surprise for today’s fight.
In the past month or so of every other day battles, she’d never once witnessed a beast that didn’t have blade-like nails protruding from their feet, however many feet they happened to have.
Will lashed out at a third lion-beast, who’d apparently tired of toying with the two gladiators he’d started with and trotted over to play with them.
It didn’t seem fair to have to contend with extra beasts in the arena, but nothing about the gladiator’s ring was particularly rational or balanced on any given battle day.
One ball of the double-headed flail Will currently wielded, crashed into the lion’s left eye. The beast roared, coming up on his back six legs, the front paws slashing back and forth at the offending weapon he held out of its reach.
“Parisa!” Will screamed. “My sword!”
Will put the flail in his left hand as she swiveled around, pushing her chest into William’s back. Their hands met along their right sides, and she deftly handed him the sword she held in reserve. Now he had both weapons, one in each hand, and Parisa had a better view of the fight. Whether she wanted it or not. And she didn’t. The endless slaughter every other day was truly getting to her. She didn’t remember the life she’d led before, but anything had to be better than the blood-soaked, carnage-filled life she was currently leading.
He lunged forward, leading with the flail, swinging back and forth in front of the beast’s face. At the end of the flail’s chain were two spiked balls, ready to inflict double the injury. As the lion creature charged forward, mouth wide, aiming to take the flail and Will’s arm in one bite, he withdrew the flail, promptly thrusting the sword she’d given him expediently into the beast’s neck. Thick, mossy-green blood soon spurted from its throat like a geyser gone wild.
The lion-like creature fell on its flank mid-stride and the threat was gone. He turned back to her, walking quickly to where she stood waiting. He wiped one inner elbow down his face, smearing the blood into fine streaks of green previously dotted across his nose and cheeks like freckles.
“They’re about to give me shit about using two weapons instead of one.”
“Guess the beast should have stayed with his original gladiators.”
“Which won’t matter. You know that, right? Even for as much money as Lord Harcourt has to have made on us in all this time. The second we don’t follow the stated rules to the letter, they’ll punish us. Or rather you.” Will stood before her. He towered above like a green goblin ready to slay her, a weapon still at the ready in each hand.
Parisa pushed out a sigh. “I know. I’d love to say I’m sorry.” Not really. “But I hate to lie to you.” Although she might be remorseful if they punished her, since she clearly remembered the excruciating pain from the device planted in her brain just like Will had experienced on their first day in the arena.
Her lesson in pain had come directly after their second arena battle, when she’d used the spare weapon they’d given her to hold for Will to defend herself. That was never allowed. Bastards.
The truth was, they would blame her because she gave him his sword when he demanded it. Crap. I do not want my brain zapped, again. Although, if she hadn’t given him his sword, then she would have gotten yelled at and punished for not helping him and following his every command, as was her primary duty while they were in the arena together. Bastards.
It was pretty much a no win situation all the time for any of the females here in the fighting ring. But she didn’t let that change her actions when they fought. She did what she thought was best to survive each encounter in the battle arena and damn the consequences.
In fact, she was the only female ever punished that way. There weren’t actually many women in the battle arena day to day. After nearly twenty battles, she was one of about five. Although, since the others had died when their gladiators fell, perhaps
the battle arena audience didn’t like to see women slaughtered. Especially since they weren’t—by the letter of the stated rules—allowed to defend themselves.
“I’m not asking for you to say sorry, Parisa,” he said in a stern, loud voice. Odd. It wasn’t like him to be curt with her, so her gaze lifted to his face. She glanced at the dais where Lord Harcourt always sat and watched. He’d leaned forward when Will raised his voice at her.
“Kneel,” he commanded in that same infuriating tone. He also looked particularly menacing with smeared green blood covering most of his face and an irate frown she’d never ever seen before.
Parisa frowned. “What?”
“I said kneel.” His cold, angry tone stilled her heart. He tapped his sword on her shoulder, pushing down hard with the flat of his bloody weapon when she resisted. Eyes as wide as they would open, Parisa fell to her knees, hoping Will hadn’t just turned into the type of man they all wanted him to be, a barbaric, hedonistic woman hater.
The gritty floor of the arena ground into her knees and calves. She flinched when Will bent from the waist, pressing his face into one side of hers, putting his mouth against her ear. He dropped the flail and his hand snaked into the hair at the base of her skull, threading his messy fingers into her locks. He then grabbed a fistful and pulled her head back slightly. Parisa sucked in a deep breath, tears of anger welling, and ready to fight back against the only seemingly decent man here. Had he changed into a true gladiator? Was he about to do something deplorable right here in the arena with thousands of spectators watching?
“Don’t misunderstand,” he said first. “I thought maybe if I pretended to punish you right now, perhaps they wouldn’t do it later, using that fucking belt button. It’s a theory I’m trying out. Once I release your hair, if you’d be so kind as to nod slowly and look at me with fear in your eyes like you’re truly sorry for your deplorable actions of helping us survive, and also completely afraid of what I might do to you, I’d really appreciate it.”
Parisa slammed her eyes shut and fought the smile trying to shape her lips at his sarcasm, relieved that he was still her sweet William, or her sweet Will, as she had nicknamed him.
Partner in the fighting ring, and lover at night when they were all alone, by whatever name she used, Will was her everything. She nodded slowly, doing her best to look contrite.
He let go of her hair, put his hand on her shoulder, and squeezed. She counted to three, opened her eyes, stared up at him with as much fear in her eyes as she could muster, selecting a very pouty outward expression, hoping this little fake out would help keep Lord Harcourt’s superfluous punishment at bay for one night at least.
Will gave her a stern look and a curt single nod. He handed her back the sword, picking the flail up once more. He turned his back to face the rest of the arena. She remained where she was, on her knees for a count of five, head bowed as if contemplating her recent set down. She then stood slowly, gripping the sword as she rose. The handle was slippery with beast blood, but she was grateful it wasn’t Will’s lifeblood flowing onto the arena’s dirt floor.
Across the field of battle, the final gladiator in today’s fight tripped over the other fallen remainder of the man attached to him by the chain. He went down on his hands and knees as the eight-legged lion beast creature advanced quickly.
One head and shoulder covering chomp later, today’s battle was over. Will remained champion. The crowd roared its approval. She wondered why the fans in the audience didn’t get tired of the bloody display. Same slaughter. Different day.
Parisa focused on the hope that she could last for two more months of this degrading, carnage-filled existence without losing her soul.
* * * *
Working flat on his back, the cold of the concrete floor seeping through his flight suit all the way to the marrow of his bones, Jeremy tightened a bolt in place on the undercarriage of the shuttle with an old-fashioned wrench by hand. In an effort to finish retrofitting the Stargazer a little bit faster, he’d pitched in day by day to help as he could.
Progress had been steady but—in his albeit prejudiced opinion—excruciatingly slow on the project to retrofit ancient stealth technology on his ship. Unfortunately, so few tools existed to accomplish this laborious process it was taking even longer than anticipated.
The sparse availability of tools meant that only one or sometimes two people could work on this epic project at any given time. They were still likely at best a month or at worst two months away from completion. A frustrating timeline that he had to live with as best as he could.
Or he could ask Gray to invest even more money into creating a bevy of single-use tools that would be irrelevant once this job was completed. An expenditure that would not only be expensive, but the products created would already be obsolete upon completion. He just couldn’t do it. Gray had given beyond his fair share financially. Unfortunately, Jeremy had bribed himself into poverty well before this project got underway in his mad search for Angelica or he’d do it himself.
Not to mention that the retrofitted parts added a significant amount of weight to the ship. The fuel cell allocation would have to be adjusted and monitored. And the capacity of travel altered on all the shuttles and life pods to ensure they didn’t run out of gas on short trips before they got to and from their destinations.
“Are you almost finished under there, grease monkey?” Nathan startled him by asking. Jeremy hadn’t heard anyone enter the spacecraft bay they were hiding out in as they completed their semi-illegal scheme in secrecy.
Nathan’s surrender for the Warrant of Detention order on Jeremy’s behest a while back had ended up being a bit dicey. Ultimately, they were all lucky to have escaped any further charges.
Jeremy tightened his grip on the wrench to keep from dropping it to the floor, and replied, “Yep. Just tightening up the fasten brackets on the unit.” He finished his task and slid out from beneath the shuttle.
Once he saw Nathan’s face, he wished he could crawl back under the ship. “What’s up?” he asked to keep from running for cover.
“Gray sent me to tell you something important. There’s been a distress signal received from what they think is one of the Mirage’s shuttles.”
Jeremy’s chest exploded with a burst of hope so quickly, he barely got out a single-worded question. “Where?”
“An uninhabited planet in the Fulchrome system parallel to the Forbidden Zone border and the planet she left.” Nathan’s expression was suddenly so grim, Jeremy squinted, trying to think through why this wasn’t the best news they’d heard since this nightmare started.
“Meaning what? Why isn’t this good news?”
Nathan pushed out a frustrated sounding sigh. “Given the point at which Angelica took off from—which is not in dispute—and where the shuttle signal came from, it looks like she was headed on a fast trajectory for the border of the Forbidden Zone almost immediately after takeoff. Those in charge are reviewing all the facts before making a decision on what comes next.”
“No! She wouldn’t go there. Something else happened.” Jeremy closed his eyes, trying to think of any reason Angelica would have headed in that direction. Nothing came. Unless a betrayal was involved. “Maybe someone sabotaged the ship,” he said out loud, the next logical step in his head. It was the only plausible reason.
“That’s exactly what Gray is arguing at this very moment in the Council of Bravura’s main office along with several other ideas he came up with on the fly as he headed over there.”
“Okay.” Jeremy threw down the wrench and moved in the general direction of the exit.
Nathan grabbed his shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going, hot shot?”
Jeremy stopped. He pushed his fingers through his hair a few times. “I don’t even know. It’s just the first time in a long time I’ve had reasonable hope she’s still alive. I feel like I should run somewhere and do something. At the very least I should go outside and jump for joy before heading out to sp
ace.”
Nathan smiled. “Hate to rain on your parade, kid, but the Council of Bravura doesn’t trust us to go fetch any survivors. They’re sending the military.”
Fuck. Jeremy bent from the waist, doing his level best to rally control over his suddenly volatile emotions before asking, “Do we at least get to assist?”
Nathan shook his head. “My understanding is that after last month’s dust up—where they were not at all amused when I showed up in your stead to answer the Warrant of Detention—the Council of Bravura has curtailed every effort for us to even head in that direction for commerce, let alone a possible rescue operation.”
Jeremy resisted the urge to hang his head. He cleared his throat. “So Gray is—”
“Trying to get us invited along, although if we’re allowed to go, it won’t be on any star craft registered to the Dalton Prime Corporation. We’ll be hitching a ride with whatever military entity they send. Meaning we won’t be in any position of authority whatsoever before, during, or after the trip.”
“And we certainly won’t be riding in a ship retrofitted with ancient stealth technology for further searching in the area if the message turns out to be bogus or otherwise inaccurate.”
“Exactly.” Nathan picked up the wrench he’d been using. He looked thoughtful. Like he had more to say, but held back.
Jeremy straightened. “What else do you need to tell me?”
“Gray was going to tell you himself, but I’ll give you a preview. I’m not sure you’ll be in the invitation pool to go with whatever military rescue team they decide to send either.”
Jeremy pushed out a long breath. “Is Gray attempting to get me onboard?”
“Yes. But he wasn’t convinced anything would work.”
Sexual Memory [Dark Colony 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 7
