Heart of a Peacekeeper

by Angela Verdenius

  The thought of Simon leaving wasn't a happy one, but she managed to push it from her thoughts. For now, there were other things she needed to concentrate on.

  Taking a seat at her desk, Des scanned the box in the other room through a camera and sent the picture to the Canton Guard. The transmission went smoothly, with the confirmation coming up uninterrupted.

  That having been taken care of, Des made her way to the medical clinic. Sure enough, as soon as Moresby saw her walking in, he started.

  "Damn it, Desdemona! Have you got a death wish or something?"

  "Or something. How're Aiken, Marcel and Orde?"

  "Orde and Marcel can go home tomorrow, and Aiken in three or four days. Aiken won't be able to return to work for a while, and the other two need to rest for several days, just like you should be doing right now."

  "I'm fine."

  "Don't look at me if you faint, Desdemona."

  "I won't be able to, Moresby. I'll be studying the inside of my eyelids."

  "Ha-ha, very funny."

  "Thanks, I thought it rather witty myself."

  Moresby eyed her sourly.

  "So, can I visit the blokes or not?” She took an uneasy sniff of the air. The smell of antiseptic was giving her the heebie-jeebies. “Damn, how can you stand this smell?"

  "My sense of smell went the same time your vocabulary did."

  "Oh, that's a low blow."

  He grunted. “Follow me."

  Aiken, Marcel and Orde were in a shared ward. Aiken's leg was in a thin splint of some kind that covered him from his ankle to nearly his hip.

  "How come you get to be out, and we have to stay?” Marcel demanded as soon as she walked in, and then his eyes widened. “And working! You're working!” His tone was accusing.

  "Suck it up, boys. I'm the boss and I get to say when I'll go back to work.” She grinned. “Just like I get to say when you'll come back."

  "You shouldn't be working.” Orde watched her closely. “You're feeling a bit of pain, right?"

  Right. Her rib, shoulder and calf were starting to burn, the liquid analgesia having worn off. Not to mention that carrying the manblaster around and yanking people to their feet didn't help freshly healing wounds, either. “Not a twinge."

  "Liar."

  "If you weren't lying in that bed, Orde, I'd take you apart for saying that."

  He looked unimpressed.

  "That's the trouble with working with you lot,” Des stated. “No bloody respect."

  "We respect you, Boss,” Aiken replied. “But that doesn't mean we can't call it as we see it."

  "How the hell could you see properly, anyway? You're doped up to the eyeballs on pain killer."

  "I love your bedside manner."

  "Stay out of it, Marcel, unless you want me to start on you next."

  "I'm sick. You can't touch me."

  "I can wait until you're standing on two legs."

  "I'll tell Moresby."

  "Oh, now I'm scared."

  Moresby just looked even more sourly at her from where he stood checking the observation scanner at the head of each bed.

  "So, anymore news of the outlaws? Or the ship?” Orde asked.

  "Nothing. But I've sent some things to the military, to see if they can identify anything, and Adin is asking them to do a sweep as they pass over on their way somewhere."

  "Good idea."

  Moresby left the room, and Des gingerly lowered herself into a chair by Marcel's bed.

  "How badly were you hurt?” He asked her.

  "Just a scratch or two."

  "Crap. You were bleeding as badly as we were, and you fainted."

  "I don't faint."

  "Unconscious, then."

  "I'm fine."

  "Shot in the shoulder,” Orde intoned. “Scorched along one rib. Seared across the thigh and upper arm and a nice hole in the side of the calf. Not to mention that cut to your temple."

  "What are you?” Des scowled at him. “The bloody medical assistant?"

  "You were in the next room and I heard everything."

  "I'm fine."

  "You keep saying that and yet you're looking peaky."

  "Only because I've stopped, and now I've stopped..."

  "You're hurting.” He raised one brow.

  "Damn.” Marcel opened his mouth to call out, but Des slapped her hand over it.

  "Shut up, or I'll have Moresby hounding me again. I've got analgesia in my pocket, all right?"

  The men eyed her dubiously until she pulled a small bottle from her pocket.

  "You're taking some now, right?” Aiken demanded.

  "No, I'm going to wait until I'm all comfortable again. Damn, will you stop nagging me?” Unscrewing the cap, Des took a good swallow, grimacing at the taste.

  Marcel handed her the mug of una on his bedside table.

  Gratefully she took a swallow, eyed the little bottle, took another swig from it and drank some more una.

  "Should you be having that much analgesia?” Marcel queried. “Is it watered down?"

  "What are you, my father?” Des rolled her eyes.

  "Is it watered down? It's supposed to be watered down."

  "Yes, yes, it's watered down."

  He grinned at her. “Nice to see you back to your normal self. Scared us when you fainted. Sorry, went unconscious."

  "Don't push it.” Hooking the other chair with her good foot, she jerked it towards herself and with a sigh of relief, rested her sore leg on it while leaning back against the chair she was sitting on.

  Orde, Marcel and Aiken exchanged glances.

  "Don't start,” she said. “Don't bother to even breathe a word. Marcel, how is your wife holding up with you in here?"

  "She's fine. Visiting twice a day.” He leered. “Says she has a hot surprise for me once I get home."

  "I'm sorry I asked. Orde? Are you going to be able to cope on your own at home?"

  His expression was calm as always. “As well as you, Boss."

  "Cute. Very cute. Aiken?"

  "My lady love is moving in once I'm home.” He winked. “Going to give me bed baths and all, she says. A little massage to ease my tender parts."

  "A little too much information, Aiken."

  "Just trying to keep you informed, Boss."

  Des spent some more time with them before finally leaving. Having stiffened up from sitting, she hobbled a little when she moved the chairs back, and had to put up with the jokes and eye rolling from the three men.

  But when she left the clinic, she did so with a smile and relief in her heart. Her men were safe and on the road to recovery. Contrary to what people thought of her, the men who worked for her weren't only just her responsibility, but also her friends. Not close enough to know her every thought, but having a bond with them that only peacekeepers living in dangerous areas would form. Each of them knew they could die, either separately or together. It forged a mateship that was hard to break.

  Assured of their well-being, she went back to the Enforcer Building to see if any data had come through on the mysterious ship and box. The news wasn't good.

  "Nothing,” Yucel greeted her as soon as she walked through the door. “The military have no idea of the ship or the box."

  "Bugger it.” Crossing to the urn in the corner she poured herself a cup of the hot liquid. “At least they know what the ship looks like, I guess."

  "By the way. About those men in the cells back there—"

  "They're still here?” Des blew on the hot liquid. “Damn, I forgot about them. We've got more on our plate than those idiots. Get Chas to drop them off at the shuttle station and tell him to ensure they get on it and the hell out of our settlement."

  "I hear you, Boss.” Grinning, he contacted Chas.

  Des went into the cell corridor and surveyed the men in the holding cells. They looked back at her with angry cautiousness.

  Taking a sip from the mug of una, she scrutinized their faces, wondering if any of them had anything to do with th
e mystery ship or the box. Some of them she recognized as trouble drifters, bumming from place to place and causing trouble wherever they went. They hung out in taverns, getting drunk, fighting and stealing. They wouldn't know much.

  "When are you letting us out?” one of the men demanded.

  "It's your lucky day,” she replied. “One of my men is taking you to the shuttle station, where you're getting on board a shuttle."

  "And going where?"

  "I really don't give a vagrat's arse, as long as it's far away from here."

  He scowled, and angry mutters came from several of the men.

  "But I live here!” one of them protested.

  "Then it's a long walk back, isn't it?” Des greeted Chas as he walked in through the rear entrance. “Got the back open?"

  "You bet.” He grinned at the men. “Ready for a little ride?"

  A good deal of grumbling and swearing came from the men, but they left the cells without a fight and went out to the pursuit craft. Once in the back of it, Chas shut and locked the door, got into the pilot seat and took off for the shuttle station.

  The men wouldn't cause a problem on the shuttles, not with the guards that now traveled on them. Draining the last of the una from her mug, Des rolled her shoulders gingerly, feeling the bite from the wounds on her shoulder and along her ribs. With a mental shrug, she went back inside the Building.

  * * * *

  "You say the settlement doesn't have as many peacekeepers in this afternoon?"

  "That's right. Some of them are going out on a trip."

  "And The Demon is on her way.” Canute smiled. “Then by all means, go ahead with the plan."

  * * * *

  After bidding Sedam and his crew goodbye, Simon watched until the big trading ship had disappeared into space, and then he turned his attention to the Head Peacekeeper's house. The lights were on in the gloom, and he was about to start towards it to visit Des, when a pursuit craft landed near her docking bay. Another followed close behind to land.

  "Now what could be happening?” Heddam murmured from behind him.

  "I'm not sure.” Simon frowned. “I was hoping the lass would be resting."

  "After today, you'd think so. The wench was everywhere.” Leaning against the ramp opening, Heddam added, “No doubt ensuring that everyone knew she was up on her feet."

  "Undoubtedly. But she was also working double time.” Simon thrust one hand through his hair. “Mikal overheard her questioning the storekeepers, Etol saw her at the site of the collapsed warehouse, Kel saw her coming out of all three taverns, and Shamon saw her leave in a pursuit craft and return not long after."

  "Your lass has no intentions of slowing down, Simon."

  And that was exactly as Simon feared. The wench wasn't in a hundred percent full health yet, but there she was, forging ahead as though she were uninjured. He planned to check her injuries tonight and make her rest while he cooked an evening meal for them both.

  Now he wasn't so sure what was happening.

  Even as he watched, the door to her place opened and she came out, still dressed in her peacekeeper's uniform, along with the heavy coat that protected her from the cold evening breeze.

  And that could only mean one thing ... Simon swore when he saw her get into one of the pursuit crafts. Alone. Both crafts lifted off the ground and soared away from the settlement. The peacekeeper who'd delivered one of the pursuit crafts walked back towards the Enforcer Building.

  "Hell!” He couldn't believe it.

  Heddam looked just as incredulous. “She's going out? After the attack, she's actually going out into the same area?"

  Simon ran up the ramp.

  "Where are you going?” Heddam pounded up behind him.

  "To the control cabin to listen."

  The platform lift clanked laboriously up to the second floor.

  "The wench will spit chips if she finds out you still have their private frequency in our systems,” Heddam warned.

  "I don't care what she thinks. I'm going to make sure she's all right.” The platform lift stopped and Simon ran down to the control cabin. “I can't believe she's going out at night, and injured!” Dropping down into the seat before the viscomm and scanner, he tapped the viscomm screen and got the peacekeepers’ private frequency.

  Taking the seat next to him, Heddam brought the two pursuit crafts up onto the scanner.

  The communications were quiet, but the scanner showed that the two crafts were flying high and fast, and on track away from the settlement.

  Ensuring that the communications was one way only, and thereby not risking letting the peacekeepers know that they were still locked into the trade ship's scanners and viscomm, Simon waited tensely.

  "How you doing, Boss?” Emory's voice came over the communications system.

  "Fine."

  "Did you take more of the analgesia?"

  "Goddamn, will you stop nagging?"

  "Did you take it?” he persisted.

  "Of course I took the bloody stuff!"

  A snicker sounded over the communications system, and Simon recognized the voice of one of Adin's peacekeepers. “He's just making sure you don't faint on us, Des."

  "Shut your gob, Benel."

  "We can't carry you on our own if you faint on us, Des."

  "You'll need someone to carry you if you continue this crap."

  Several other voices laughed.

  "Sounds like ‘tis more than just us listening in.” Heddam grinned faintly. “The peacekeepers are giving her a hard time."

  "It must be the peacekeepers from wherever she's heading.” Resting his elbows on the armrests of the chair, Simon steepled his fingers and placed them under his chin. “At least she's not alone this time."

  "She wasn't alone last time,” Heddam pointed out. “She had Orde and Marcel with her."

  "And still got shot out of the sky.” Simon stared at the scanner.

  "Is Adin back yet?” Des's voice was low and husky over the communications system.

  It made him warm to even just hear her voice, and ‘twas something that had never happened to him before.

  "On his way. Says he'll meet you here at the Enforcer Building about ten thirty."

  Heddam glanced at Simon. “She's heading for Sharver."

  "The prisoners,” Simon guessed. “The survivors from those that attacked her. She's going to see them."

  "This time of the night?"

  "Don't look at me."

  Sure enough, the scanner tracked the pursuit crafts into Sharver.

  "We're about to land,” Emory's voice came over. “Don't worry about locking us in, we're heading back tonight."

  "Tonight?” Benel queried. “But Des's injuries—"

  "You'll be facing injuries if you don't quit that!” Des stated. “We're going to question the prisoners, and then head back home."

  "All right, but Adin won't be happy with you."

  "Damn, Benel, you're asking for it."

  His snicker came over the air loud and clear. “Or we could just tell ... Simon."

  "I'm going to rip your head off when we land."

  Heddam laughed. “I'd say those peacekeepers aren't as afraid of Des as the settlers are."

  Simon grinned. “Mayhap she'll be scared of me and not travel while injured next time."

  "You wish.” Heddam rolled his eyes.

  Silence descended as the pursuit crafts flew in over the settlement.

  "Got you on scanner,” Benel said.

  "Hell, I hope you had us on scanner the whole time, Benel."

  "Demon, I'd be too scared not to."

  Des's laughter was low and unexpected. It curled up around Simon like scented smoke.

  Silence came again as the pursuit crafts landed, then Des and Emory resumed talking as they headed into the Enforcer Building and were greeted by Benel. After the initial greetings, Benel took them into the cell corridor to see the four prisoners.

  Simon and Heddam listened in interest.

&n
bsp; "They don't look so hot now,” Des commented.

  "Probably afraid you've brought your manblaster along,” Benel said cheerfully. “Worried about their manhoods."

  Emory gave a bark of laughter.

  "Bitch,” one of the outlaws growled. “Demon bitch!"

  "Your reputation has preceded you, Boss,” Emory said cheerfully.

  "I'm famous.” There came the sound of something hitting the iron bars. “So, boys, care to spill your guts to me?"

  "I'd like to spill your guts full stop,” was the growled answer.

  "Don't be like that. Out in the desert you couldn't wait to share sweet nothings with me."

  "And we'd have pai—"The words stopped abruptly.

  "You'd have what?” Des asked calmly.

  There was no answer, so Simon could only presume that the outlaws weren't talking.

  "We could always chain them to the back of the pursuit crafts and drag them around the rocks a bit,” Emory suggested. “Loosen their tongues a little."

  "Waste of fuel. I've got another way."

  "What? You're going to shoot them?” Benel laughed.

  "Just a little off here, and a little off there.” There came the sound of laser fire, and a curse.

  "Bitch! You singed my earlobe!"

  "Damn, I'm a bad shot today. I was aiming for your whole ear."

  Heddam chuckled. “That wench is unbelievable."

  "'Tis the truth.” Leaning his head back against the chair, Simon closed his eyes. He could just about see her facing the outlaws in the cell, totally cool and deliberate in all she said and did.

  Des might have a bad temper, but she had an array of emotions she could display when the time called for it.

  "So, you taking these boys back to Tyron?” Benel queried. “I don't want you bloodying up my cells."

  "Don't be such a sissy,” Emory drawled. “We clean up after Demon all the time. The brains can be hard to get off the walls, sometimes, but nothing a good scrubbing brush can't fix."

  "You don't scare me, Demon,” another outlaw's voice sneered. “Give it some time, and you'll be screaming for mercy."

  "Is that right? I'm so scared."

  "Hey.” Emory's voice had a frown in it. “What's wrong with your friend?"

  "He's not feeling too good.” The outlaw's tone indicated that he didn't really care.