by Imogene Nix
“He’s with me. We need to find a girl. Kera. Does anyone here know where she’s being kept?” Her voice was whisper-soft as she moved forward. The woman backed off, flinching as if expecting a blow.
“She’s kept in an interrogation room. They needed the medic to patch her up, as Crick Sur Banden has plans for her.” Her gaze darted around. “He’s going to make her his concubine. Unless his son turns up first, so I hear anyway.” The woman obviously thought that she was safe to talk to, Jemma mused.
“Where’s the interrogation room?” Raven’s voice filtered softly through the room. He wiped at the coloring on his skin, human tones peeking out of the gray. The women surged forward, and Raven had to hiss at them to stop. “You need to be quiet, otherwise they’ll know we’re here.”
They stopped, and many looked fearfully over their shoulders. The smell of fear and stale sweat permeated the air.
“We’ll show her.” Another woman stood, obviously pregnant, her face swollen with dried blood crusted in her hair. “But only if you will get us out of here.” The woman limped forward. “I don’t trust you, but we can get her in on the pretext of taking food.” The woman waited, belligerence in her eyes, but Jemma noticed the shake in her hands.
“No—” Raven was about to protest, and Jemma stepped forward.
“She’s right. There’s more chance I can get in safely, and Kera will most likely come with me more easily than you. I’ll be back soon.” Jemma ushered the heavily pregnant woman forward and watched as she grabbed a platter then limped toward the door.
“Wait!” One of the other woman stepped into her path, and Raven moved forward. “They’ll know if she’s dressed like that.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and Jemma looked back at Raven, who nodded his head.
“Fine, change clothes with her then.” The woman gestured toward another with long, dark hair and around the same build as her. Jemma stripped down quickly, handing Raven her combat vest and flight suit. The woman stripped, handing over her clothes. Jemma noted the bruises on her legs and back and nearly wept for the women, who had obviously been so mistreated.
It took a will of iron to act normally. None of them could afford discovery now, and any sympathy might result in a break down. which was something they weren’t equipped to deal with.
Another of the women came forward to wipe grease into her hair, making it stringy, and another came forward with soot from the burned coals and wiped it over her face and hair. When they stepped back, she turned to see Raven’s eyes glinting with danger in them.
He touched her face briefly. “Take care.” He smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Once more, her heart swelled with love for Raven. They stood in silent communion for a moment as she watched as the woman crept to the door and inched out. “I have to go.”
He inclined his head and Jemma followed the woman, gun concealed in the folds of the torn dress. They crept down the corridor together past one door then another, sliding against the cold, metal walls so that they would seem submissive if anyone saw them.
They reached the third door, and the woman grabbed her hand. “Follow me. Don’t say anything. Just keep your head bowed if anyone comes near.” The woman looked at her with determination in her eyes, and for a second Jemma saw a formidable woman.
“Right.” With that, the woman before her changed, adopting a quiet and downtrodden posture as she made her way through the door.
“Excuse me, medic, but the meals are being served and I bring the woman’s.” She edged forward, and under her eyelashes, Jemma scanned the room. Only one man. A slight medic she thought. Excellent.
He sneered at the woman as she laid the food on a bare table. “You filthy creature.”
Anger grew in her belly like a red-hot ball of flame. The reins stretched...
“You will bring it to me, you stupid human.” He raised a hand to hit the woman, his gray skin mottled with rage, and something snapped inside Jemma.
Shoving away from the wall, soundlessly, Jemma lifted her weapon. The fury she’d banked leant her speed as she grabbed his shoulder and wrenched him back. He lifted both arms to stop her, and her gun clattered to the floor.
“Stupid human bitch!” The snarl filled the air, and they wrestled. Her hands tugged and shoved until she caught his chin. “I’ll kill you, after I use your body.”
Reaction took over. “No way. You won’t do this ever again, and not to me.” With one tremendous heave she wrenched.
A crack resounded and the body turned limp. His head sagged at an unnatural angle. She let go, and the body slumped to the floor. Jemma realized what she’d just done.
“Oh God! I killed him.”
She’d snapped his neck just like a twig. For all of a minute she felt sick at what she had done, but the pregnant woman watched her without a smile, just grim acceptance. “He would have done what he said. He’s done that to others.”
Her words jolted Jemma more than anything else that had happened. She bent and grabbed her gun, replacing it within the torn folds.
Then Jemma turned around and there, on a wooden platform, lay a woman. At least, she guessed that was what she was. Layers of grime and blood covered her hair, and bruises marred her skin. Heavy chains weighed down her fragile body, and Jemma moved forward. The woman seemed to be barely breathing.
Jemma moved close to her, leaned over, and whispered, “Reiver Arch.”
The woman started, her eyes springing open, then tears began to trickle down her thin face. Jemma reached for the locks holding the restraints.
Chapter 16
Chowd moved forward. He knew where the kitchens were located and knew that the communications room needed to be somewhere nearby. There was only so much space left in this corridor. He opened one door and peered in. A great room. Thank Eshra it was empty, but he saw from the bowls on the table it wouldn’t be for long. So little time left.
He focused on the task ahead—disabling the communications center before the Elector could make an attempt on Crick Sur Banden. In his experience, his father trusted very few of his foot soldiers.
He would have preprogrammed a communiqué to send out, so speed was of the essence. He knew, from his communications with others, that his father’s use of Xeradax was causing him to be paranoid, even more than before, so he’d constantly be expecting a threat. It would be no mean feat to capture him, as he’d always surrounded himself with his most trusted warriors and advisors.
Chowd withdrew from the great room and tracked further along the corridor. He’d never wanted to be this close to his father again—unless it was to stop his plans. But if this was the only way to free the poor humans taken prisoner and to regain control of the Alpha Star Colony, then by Eshra, he would take pleasure in it. Another door loomed, and he carefully laid an ear against it. Silence within. Excellent.
He cracked it open slightly and checked the room. Empty. Sliding inside, he secured the door. Better to be sure that they couldn’t get in. He spied the second door instantly. It obviously led back into the great room, and he moved quickly, making sure to secure the locks.
At the central desk screen he hovered, looking for any traps before turning it on. He smiled as it booted, but the smile melted away as the password screen blinked. Barsha! He entered every one he’d ever known.
Access Denied!
No! There had to be a hint. His fingers flew over the keypad, but the same message flashed. He tried again. Something started to whizz and whir on another desk screen, and he quickly made his way over, his gaze flicking over the screen. Data flowed but made no sense.
Then the knowledge flared. His father had obviously linked the two machines with an automatic message transmission code. He needed to stop the distress call to his troops. They didn’t need a strike force arriving right now, when they were about to complete this part of the mission.
Chowd entered every override command that came to mind, but nothing worked. He could read the screen but not break the
encryption. Barsha! He needed Meredith here. He warred with himself at bringing her in, but there wasn’t a choice. Either he got her here now, or the mission would have to abort.
He touched the communication badge and breathed deep. “Chowd to Elector. Emergency sequence—Charlie-Hotel-Oscar-five-one-seven-Zulu. We have a problem. I need Meredith here to break an encryption module.” He pulled his fingers away from the badge. It was only a matter of time before they knew there were intruders.
Suddenly a haze appeared before him, flickering. In a heartbeat, Meredith stood before him, her face grim. “Where is it?”
She didn’t spare words, moving swiftly to the desk screen he indicated behind him. She knelt in front of it, watching the information scroll. He could see her eyes watching the data. Suddenly, she pushed away.
“Where’s the central console?” she demanded.
“Here.” He turned it around for her to see.
“Grab me a chair and watch the doors. Judging by what I am seeing, they’ll know in the next few minutes that we’re here.”
More than that, he hoped they hadn’t tracked her transmission. They might get away with one person he hoped.
Meredith bent her head to the keypad and started entering codes, her mouth a tight line, and a frown formed between her perfect brows. She muttered unintelligible phrases to herself as she worked. “Central code needs to be...aha, using the Zulu Zulu Tango encryption process.”
He pushed a swiveling chair toward her, and she pulled it close, leaning first a knee then slowly lowering herself into it so that the flight suit firmed against her rounded buttocks. The beat of his heart raced. He wrenched his eyes away.
He heard her working, the tap of keys rattling until she suddenly she sighed. He turned swiftly to see what was wrong and spied the amusement that lit up her face. Her lips lifted in the corners, and her eyes glittered with triumph.
“Gotcha!” It was a jubilant whisper. She levered herself up from the chair, and he watched her body unfold.
“Did you break it?” he said quietly, and looked toward the door. It rattled. Barsha! Someone wanted in. Time was up.
“Oh yeah, and I put a couple of little extras into the message.” She grinned then stopped as she noted the rattling of the door.
“We need to get you out of here.” He indicated to her that it was time to transmit. She nodded, and he watched as she put her hand toward her commbadge.
“Elector, transmit me now.”
He waited, listening for the acknowledgement. Static filled the air, and he looked at her, horrified.
“They’ve jammed the signal again!” He tried his. “Chowd to Elector. Transmit Meredith now!” Static filled the air again. Barsha! I have to get her out of here. Now. Before they find her. He wouldn’t let them take her. “We’re trapped if we stay in here. I need to get you out and get to Raven and Jemma.”
The words had just burst out when the door splintered open. He raised his gun and fired.
* * * *
The minute Jemma left something changed in the kitchen. Raven didn’t know what or how, but suddenly the room became hostile. The women jostled toward him. The atmosphere in the room cooled.
Their eyes glittered, and he shifted his weight, prepared to take whatever action was necessary. These women were damaged, and he had no intention of causing them any harm, but he’d do whatever it took to survive, because otherwise Jemma had no buffer against Crick Sur Banden and his rebels.
He lifted a hand slowly, watching their eyes watching his movements. “Wait. We’re here to liberate you. But to do that, we need your help. We’re here from the Empire. I’m the engineer on the Elector.”
They stopped.
He swallowed. He needed them on his side. Without their help, the alarm might yet be raised, putting all of them in jeopardy. He stepped closer, and a larger woman crowded in.
“How do we know? It could be just one more lie. Like the lies they used to gain entrance.” Her words were terse and delivered with force. Some of the women nodded. Others grunted in agreement. She was obviously one of their self-appointed leaders.
“It’s hard to prove it right now. Jemma...the woman I’m here with? She’s a combat pilot attached to the Elector, and our security officer is somewhere here as well. We’re going to liberate this bunker and get to Kera. We’ve locked down the bunker already. We just don’t know how many of the men are still at liberty around here.” He willed them to understand and pulled his hands away from his guns, lifting them palms up so they could see he posed them no threat.
The leader turned her head and started whispering and gesticulating to the others with her. His heart thudded. Jemma shouldn’t be too much longer now. He needed to get her and the infiltrator, Kera, away from here, meet up with Chowd, and attempt to capture Crick Sur Banden. Not to mention get his hands on a spook. Standing here arguing with these women was a waste of time. Frustration welled inside him. Couldn’t they see he was trying to help them?
He looked back toward the door once more. Where was Jemma? How long could it take to get the woman and get back to him? He prayed nothing had gone wrong.
* * * *
Jemma grabbed the chains, yanking them off the woman as quickly as she could. “Can you stand?” Her breath caught as the woman stood, wobbly and obviously still in pain, but determination clearly sparking in her eyes.
“It hurts, but so long as you get me out of here, I’ll do anything you ask.” Her voice was low, the words passing from between gritted teeth.
Jemma reached over, hauled her arm over her shoulders, then swung one arm around the woman’s waist. She would need to give her maximum support to get out of there. She turned to the other woman. “I’m going to need your help. We need to get her over to the door, then you’re going to have to support her while I check the door. Can you do that?”
The pregnant woman nodded furiously. “Yes. However, you need to be quick. The men who’re free still will be heading into the great room at any time now for their meal, and once they realize the others haven’t arrived...” The words tapered off.
“Yeah, I see. We’ll need to get back to the kitchen.”
They hurried as quickly as they could, supporting Kera between them.
“Tell me your name,” Jemma said to the woman, “so I can call you.” Reaching the wall, she leaned Kera against it, pushing the other woman toward her and motioning for her to support Kera.
“Rodi. Rodi Van Doren. My husband was the overseer here.”
“I’m Jemma. Raven and I are from the Elector. We plan on getting everyone out of here and liberating this base.” She smiled briefly at Rodi, then turned back to the door, laying her ear against it. Listened.
Nothing. She breathed out, then in, centering herself again. She cracked the door open slightly and peered through the opening. No one. She opened it wider, gun ready, as her eyes and body moved side to side, scanning the area.
The corridor remained empty. Finger to her lips, she gestured for them to move forward. Rodi was awkwardly trying to help Kera stay upright. She reached over and grabbed Kera’s arm again, shouldering as much weight as possible. They inched forward slowly and quietly. They made it to the first door and could hear voices and noises, some raised in what she thought sounded like anger. Adrenaline coursed through Jemma’s body, and she indicated that they needed to move faster.
Are we about to be found out? She certainly had no intention of sticking around to find out. On they went until they reached the door to the kitchen. Carefully opening it, she pushed inside to see the women up against one of the doors with an armed guard in front of them. Many of the women were cowering. Raven stood quietly, pushed up against the wall, and another guard had his gun trained on him.
Her heart stopped for just an instant.
The door to the great room stood open, and the klaxons started to wail. Pushing the women behind her, she weighed her options at lightning speed.
Save Raven? Or attack the man holding t
he women? There was no argument.
She swung toward the one holding Raven in place. His captor’s head had swung toward her as she opened the door, and seeing his chance, Raven thrust his arm forward. The other guard turned, and the women lurched forward, falling upon him, their arms raised, and the guard cried out. Then ceased.
A shot rang out, and the women screamed. Some fell. Jemma ran toward Raven, who fought to overpower the guard. She had screamed to Rodi to close the other door when another shot rang out. Burning fire touched her side, streaking through her body, and for a moment, gray blurred the edges of her vision.
She turned. Her body screamed as her movement jarred whatever injury she’d sustained. Jemma raised her arm, her body convulsing as a lightning jag of agony arced through her, but even though her arms shook, she aimed at the guard who’d shot her.
Before her disbelieving gaze, Rodi dashed across the room, grabbing a chair and hauling it back. She’s going to hit him with it. Her mind whirred like a wheel in mud, slow and ponderous. Rodi’s pregnant, weaker than I am.
The guard saw Rodi and lifted his gun once more, sighted, and the dot appeared near Rodi’s eye.
“No!” Jemma must have screamed, because he turned just enough for her to move the dot of the laser pointer into the middle of his yellow eye.
Jemma squeezed the trigger, listening for the phzzt as the laser cut through the distance between them. He spun sideways, sprays of red flying against the walls and on Rodi. He dropped to the floor and lay still.
Another Ru’Edan arrived at the door. Jemma yelled at Rodi to get back and squeezed off another shot. The women behind her screamed, Rodi yelled at her, and the klaxon continued its wail, consuming her with the cacophony of noises. Her head spun.
She gripped her side. Blood soaked her hand, and she lifted it to see it—scarlet against her pale hand—and smelled the copper as it filled the air. Her stomach lurched. Shit. I’ve been hurt worse than I thought. She stared at her hands until more yelling filled the air. This time, though, when she raised her head, Chowd and Meredith filled the doorway.
