by Debra Jess
She refused to let go.
After what could only have been mere seconds, the cockpit door dissolved. Rory stood there, big as life, and bleeding over one eye.
"Grab his hand!" Tamarja shouted. "He's got the trigger to my collar!"
Rory started forward, but shuttle tumbled end over end, sending Rory into her. Her elbow crashed into the inactive controls in front of Cyrek. She felt her bone break, her fingers going numb. Cyrek's hand slid out of hers, the trigger going with him.
She had tried and failed. For the last second of her life, all she could see was Cyrek, his face twisted in sick cruelty, pressing the trigger that activated her collar.
The shock exploded in her brain and her world went dark.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Too late.
Daeven almost had to crawl his way to the cockpit.
As soon as the director returned from the cockpit, he’d known something was up. There was no mistaking her use of her painfully straight posture to create extra space between herself and her seat as anything other than a prelude to an attack. As soon as she looked at Ramsey, saying nothing, but communicating everything, Daeven knew he too needed to prepare.
With a single look at Joran, he used his own set of discreet hand signals to communicate. He could only hope that Joran would believe he hadn't turned traitor and would be ready to fight on his signal.
The shuttle dropping its shields and tumbling in the high winds had been unexpected, yet he should have known Tamarja would be the one to start the fight.
His seat slammed into the one next to it. Of course Tamarja would also have released the seat clamps. Only the plushness of the armrest saved his fingers from breaking.
This was not what he had planned, but he took advantage, nonetheless. He yanked off his seat restraints and quickly killed the nearest flailing guard.
Joran and Ramsey had also chosen their targets, working as efficiently as they could as the ship tipped and spun. The director relied on stealth and a knife that she retrieved from who knew where, burying the weapon deep into her target's gut. She shoved his body away to continue the fight.
The blood didn't seem to bother her.
Halfway to the cockpit, the shuttle stopped tumbling. Someone had reestablished control and reengaged the shields. Daeven raced forward to see his worst nightmare come true.
Silvah sat on the floor with Tamarja’s limp body in his lap. While Silvah rocked Tamarja back and forth, whispering into her ear, Cyrek had been the one who regained control over the shuttle. Without paying any attention to Daeven, Cyrek pointed his gun at Silvah.
"Don't shoot him!" Daeven managed to shout to Cyrek as he shoved his way into the cramped compartment.
"Why not?" Madness had taken over the other man, but Daeven's pain only made him more determined to save what little he could of Tamarja's mission.
"You still need him. He can tell you about the new shields he created. He won't fight now that Chase is dead." He risked laying his hand over Cyrek's, hoping the other man had enough sense to not fire. "Trust me. I can get him to talk."
Cyrek's gun arm wavered. Cyrek trusted no one, but Daeven had saved his life on the scout ship. That one moment of mercy gave Daeven what he needed. Cyrek lowered his weapon.
"What a mess," Cyrek grumbled. He didn't know the outcome of the passengers. He must have figured that with Daeven in the cockpit, the director and the others were either dead or subdued.
That mistake was all Daeven needed. Reaching down, he assisted a stunned Silvah off the floor. "Take her in back. We'll bury her later."
"Incinerate her, more likely," Cyrek muttered, but Silvah was beyond hearing him.
Silvah carefully cradled Tamarja's broken arm on her chest before picking up her body. With Cyrek's gun no longer a threat, Daeven positioned himself behind Cyrek's seat, giving Rory room to leave the cockpit.
"I guess I owe you one more time, Blayde." Cyrek snorted with disgust. "Killing Silvah would have felt real good at that moment, but you are correct. I still need him."
"I, however, no longer need you."
Daeven wished he could have seen the look of betrayal as he laid both hands on each side of Cyrek's face and, with a sharp twist, snapped his neck.
Energy spent, Daeven slumped in the pilot's seat and set the shuttle's navigation system to automatic, not caring what coordinates Cyrek had set. All that mattered was they had won, even though he had gambled with Tamarja's life and lost. The gaping black hole where his heart used to be encompassed his entire being.
That's how Ramsey found him a few minutes later. Taking in Cyrek's dead body, she jerked her thumb at Daeven. "Get back there. They need you. I can fly the shuttle from here."
Daeven didn't move, couldn't get his legs to cooperate. He'd lost her. He'd loved her; he'd lost her. "I can't."
"You have to. She's not dead."
"Not dead?" The black hole inside his chest started to retreat.
"No. Now move your ass!"
Daeven jumped up and ran.
Chapter Fifty
Fog. The hated fog had returned. The treatment had reversed itself or was only a temporary fix. She couldn't see through the fog. It shimmied, shook, and she felt sick. Then it stopped moving altogether. Her stomach stopped heaving. The sickness passed. Where was she?
More fog, but not so thick. If she could just move forward, then maybe she would feel better.
She pushed herself again. Her eyes opened, and the fog disappeared.
She blinked. She saw light. The sun? She loved light, its warmth. She hadn't felt warm in a long time. Something blocked the light. Someone's face hovered over hers. She wanted to see the light, so she pushed the face away.
More faces crowded together, less light. She sighed. Maybe later she would see more light. She returned to the fog.
She fought again. This time she would win. Winning was important. If she didn't win, bad things would happen. She pushed harder, and the fog thinned. She opened her eyes again. Everything looked clear. There was light, but not the sun, and no faces to block it out.
She tried to sit up, her muscles strained. She couldn't control her muscles. She lay back down, but her muscles continued to spasm. The fog returned. She'd fight again later.
She pushed forward through the fog again. Her muscles strained but didn't spasm. She pushed harder and opened her eyes. Clear light. Faces again, and she could hear voices now. She blinked and tried to sit up. Someone helped her. Her stomach protested, but she didn't care. She leaned into whoever had helped her sit up.
Daeven.
She tried to speak, but her words came out garbled. Her muscles jerked again, uncontrollable. He laid her back down again, and the fog returned.
One last time. This time she wouldn't give up. She fought back the fog and forced her eyes open. She hesitated, waiting for the nausea, waiting for the spasms, but neither happened. She turned her head to the side. Daeven sat there. She blinked. He still sat there.
No dream. She was awake, probably in medical. Daeven sat next to her, alive and fiddling with a stylus, not noticing her. She inhaled deeply, forcing the air through her throat, and spoke a single word.
"Daeven."
He abandoned whatever he was doing and immediately sat down on the edge of her bed, running his hand through her hair.
"Welcome back."
"Cyrek?" She had so many things she wanted to say to him, but first things first.
"He's dead. He can't hurt you."
Relief flooded her entire body. "The fleet?"
"Safely through the slipstream, and they took the warship completely by surprise. The ship left the system rather than take on more damage than they could handle."
She took a deeper breath. "Rory and Jita?"
"Jita's safe and sound and with her family. Rory wanted to be here with you, but the director needed him to start working on that new shield system. The Manitac warship is gone, but they'll be back."
Rory had chosen to wo
rk on the shields instead of staying with her. Digging deep into her emotions, Tamarja tried to find her disappointment, her heartbreak, but she couldn't. Time was of the essence. In order to protect Dawn’s Landing, both the director and the Shadows would need every advantage they had, including Rory’s shields. Even knowing that, she should have felt something, shouldn't she?
Tamarja lay down again, Daeven's arm firmly around her shoulders. It all seemed too neat, too easy. Then again, she had missed the worst of it.
"We got you to medical as soon as we could turn the shuttle around and return to Facility Prime. Had to dodge a few firefights. It seems the director had a few surprises up her sleeve. Not only does she have that warship in the mountains, she has her own army—AuRaKaz employees who are loyal to her. While the Shadow fleet took on the Manitac warship, the director's army cleaned out Manitac security here on the ground."
"How did I survive?" She shifted her legs. They tingled, feeling weak, as if she hadn't used them for a year. More than anything, she wanted to move.
Daeven shifted so he sat up straight instead of leaning over her, as if he knew she needed space. "The Black Wave you drank gave your brain the juice it needed to keep firing those synapses long after they should have shut down. Barely. It was very, very close. I almost lost you."
I, not we. Daeven was here, but Rory wasn't. She felt as if her whole world had tilted sideways while she was unconscious. Sparks of happiness bounced around her heart, all because of Daeven. Was happiness the same as love? Could it be possible even after everything they'd been through?
Daeven was here, but Rory wasn't.
The nearby door dissolved, and the director swooshed in, bringing with her the scent of the fresh outdoors. Ramsey, her guardian shadow, wasn't far behind.
"I'm glad to see you're awake."
"It feels good to be awake." She pushed back on her elbows to try to sit up once more. Lying flat on her back in front of the director almost felt as if she were lying down on the job.
The director reached out and put a firm hand on Tamarja's shoulder. "Don't. You're weaker than a newborn, and I'm the last person to expect you to stand on ceremony." She looked at Daeven. "If you don't mind, I'd like a word alone with Captain Chase."
Daeven nodded but squeezed Tamarja's hand before he left. Ramsey followed him out.
"I don't thank people often. I try to reward them for their loyalty, but I rarely say the words. Ramsey's often chastised me for that. It's time for me to try harder at bringing people closer to me."
She paused to take a breath. "If not for you, I'd still be sitting at my desk, plotting and planning to someday take over Manitac. I was so sure that my way was the only way and all I needed was time. You showed me a different way. As much as I think my way would have worked, you forced me to see that while I plotted and planned, people suffered. Sometimes action is needed even if it doesn't accomplish all of your goals all at once. So I thank you, Tamarja Chase, for forcing me out of my insular little circle and making me face the outer world once more."
"It will be difficult." Tamarja's voice cracked.
The director nodded. "Yes, it will. There is tension between the citizens of Dawn's Landing and the Shadows. Neither side quite trusts the other. I need to find a way to bring these two groups together."
"A victory celebration," Tamarja croaked. "Everyone loves a party."
The director smiled down at her. "Yes, a party. An excellent suggestion."
"On the beach. Lots of food. Lots of music." Tamarja knew she was babbling, but she couldn't help it. It felt good to talk, to remember the parties from her past.
"Let's not get too carried away, unless you want to plan this party."
Tamarja wrinkled her nose. "Not me. Jita. Jita can plan, and her sister can cook."
"They may not appreciate you volunteering them, but I'll certainly ask."
She gave Tamarja's shoulder a gentle squeeze before breezing out the door. She expected Daeven to walk back into the room. Instead, Kaylin Ramsey entered, her manner so different from the director's, it was almost comical.
"Congratulations on the victory." Tamarja tried to sound upbeat.
"No point in training security if they can't secure things." Ramsey sniffed, but her lips stretched in a tight, little smile as she said it. "While Aura gets to come in with her dramatic speeches and good news, she leaves me to deal with the unpleasant, boring, and mundane practicalities."
Uh-oh. That didn't sound good.
"No one on Dawn's Landing is going to forget what happened or the role you played in it. No matter where things go from here, you'll always have a home. Wherever Aura goes, she will welcome you."
For Ramsey, that was almost poetic.
"As for your job, you still work for AuRaKaz, though the terms of your employment will change somewhat. Everyone will have a new contract to sign once we work out the ugly details left over from their Manitac contracts. If you want to stay as a shuttle pilot, you'll be more than welcome."
"I'll…have to think about it."
Ramsey nodded as if expecting her to be unsure.
"As for your freighter, the director has taken possession of it and moved it from the spaceport to the cavern. I think you understand the need to keep the only ship with a working prototype of Silvah's shielding system out of sight."
She did, considering how easily she had found it herself. Still, a part of her wanted that freighter. It was hers by law of Unity, if not Manitac. It was all she had left of her family, of her father who was still lost in the Manitac system. That she wanted it so badly scared her. The selfishness shamed her.
"You'll get it back, of course," Ramsey said, sensing her thoughts. "Once we have our own prototype working. Until then, the director is willing to negotiate with the Shadows to get you another ship, if you choose not to stay here."
Tamarja could only nod. Her eyelids were starting to droop against her will. Ramsey stood to leave, but then she turned back.
"Do you love him?"
Tamarja forced her eyes open once more.
"Him?"
"Daeven Blayde. He's been hovering ever since we brought you here."
Tamarja nodded, but slowly. "I think I do."
"Good. A little uncertainty makes a man work harder to convince the woman he loves he's worthy of her. It certainly worked on my husband. I kept that poor man hanging for almost two years. In the end, when he finally had a strong enough spine to demand my intentions, I knew he was ready for me and I for him. Manitac disappeared him only a few months later, but I'll never forget those few months."
Tamarja didn't know what to say to that. She didn't have to say anything, though, as Ramsey left with the same brusqueness as when she entered.
Daeven might have returned after Ramsey left, but Tamarja couldn't remain awake to talk to him.
The day of Aura's beach party arrived sooner than Tamarja expected. Medical hadn't even wanted to discharge her, since they had only removed her collar the week before. Tamarja, however, commed Ramsey, and she soon had permission to leave, but not without a promise to return for more tests. Evidently she had achieved another first: no one had ever survived the injections from Manitac's collars. Medical needed more tests before they could begin an intense program of Black Wave therapy and collar removal for all the puppets on Dawn's Landing. But they had somewhere to start, and that in itself was amazing.
Jita had helped her as much as she could, but arrangements for the party took up most of her time that day. The busy hostess asked Nagrit to help Tamarja dress, pack a few of her belongings, and sign out a floater so they could follow the caravan heading toward the beach.
As much as Tamarja appreciated everyone's care and concern, what she really longed for was to climb into Starcatcher and fly. It would be a while, though, before that could happen. Her broken arm, though healed, was still too weak to take the controls of any ship, even one of the shuttles, and the director needed Starcatcher more than Tamarja did. At least she knew
Dace was taking care of her baby while Rory outfitted the Shadow fleet with his shields.
Nagrit guided the floater into the parking lot. Even from a distance, Tamarja could see tension all around. Joran stood on one side of the beach talking with what she assumed were other Shadows. The director and AuRaKaz employees, including several of her security officers, occupied another part of the beach. This was not going to work if they couldn't even handle a party together.
"Looks like it's up to us to build the bridge," Nagrit said, as she left Tamarja's side, her beach dress flowing behind her. Tamarja watched as Nagrit went to work, signaling a few of her fellow hostesses to join her as she walked over to the Shadows and introduced herself.
For her part, Tamarja chose a spot closer to the ocean and spread a colorful towel as best she could as it flapped in the wind before sitting down. Jita had requisitioned a new outfit for her, paying with her own credit: white shorts and a yellow tank top. It was her first attempt since her disastrous date with Daeven to wear something a little sexy.
"Hi, there."
She looked up, her hand blocking the sunlight from her eyes. Rory.
"Hi, yourself."
"I'm glad to see you're finally up and about."
"Me too." He sat next to her, not seeming to mind the sand that clung to his feet and calves. He said nothing for a long time.
“You tried to kill both of us,“ she said, the words sounding dull after everything that had happened. “You didn't even ask if it was what I wanted. If it was what any of your team wanted if we were captured. You made the decision for all of us.“
Rory tried to look at her, but he couldn’t.
“You know that's why we won’t work, right?" she finally asked him.
He reached over to hug her, but she pulled away. "I've been asking myself that same question. All week, every time I entered Starcatcher, I missed you, but…"
