Shadows sharpened and became less muddy. Everything was painted in shades of gray and black and dark red. A constant clanking of lift mechanisms far to our right and left echoed hollowly. Thin stripes of light showed the location of lift corridor doors. And there were other noises. Water rushing through pipes, the occasional squeal of metal stressing.
I turned, still hunkered down, put my back against the wall and took a deep breath of the cold, sharp air. Sully moved as I did. We did nothing, said nothing for a moment. Just so I could hear it clearly.
Welcome home.
I felt, more than saw, his wicked Sully grin. “Downlevel?” he whispered.
“Downlevel.”
We soft-footed, carefully, quickly. It was always possible to run into a maintenance tech or three. But, as I’d told Sully and Ren while we were on the Karn, they were typically noisy. They had a right to be in the core. Stealth was unnecessary for them.
The double red light on the wall ahead signaled a ladder. I headed for it, stopped just short of it, and touched Sully’s arm. “The double lights,” I whispered. “Down or up, they—”
His hand clamped over my mouth just as a sharp clang sounded, followed by several short clanks. A light flashed above us as an accessway opened. We flattened ourselves against the wall.
A woman’s voice sounded harsh, tired. “Goddamned breaker feeds. Think they’d invent one that’d last more than two goddamned weeks.”
Another voice, unintelligible but male, filtered in from the corridor.
“Yeah, yeah, budget. Well, screw budget,” she answered. There was more clanking, then a hissing sound and a loud clank.
Then darkness.
I let out my breath in a long rush. “Sully—”
“Hush, Chasidah.” Fingers against my lips. Listen.
I listened.
Let me link with you. There is safety in this. No sounds from us as we move, but no lapse in information either.
I started to open my mouth to speak but caught my action. You can do this without touching me? I knew he could with Ren, but I wasn’t Stolorth or Ragkir. Then I remembered his angry probe spearing my thoughts when we’d encountered the Morgan Loviti.
I can, yes. He hesitated for a moment and I damned the uncertainty he no doubt had sensed in my mind. Will you be comfortable with this?
Yes. No problems. After all, he’d also been in my mind when we made love.
Okay. I felt his smile, his warmth. Got it.
I reached for the ladder. Stopped and put my fingers instead on his arm. Sully?
Yes, Chasidah.
All my thoughts? When we made love, I was focused on him. But I belatedly realized now that our current situation might lend itself to some rather undiplomatic thoughts on my part from time to time. I’d be in the captain mode, not lover mode. I didn’t want him hurt by the kind of things he’d uncovered when we’d met up with Philip’s ship.
Except for emergencies, your touch or mine is the signal.
I climbed down first, Sully following. Reached Level 28’s grated, narrow platform. Swung off the ladder, grabbed the handholds, scooted sideways.
Touch. Blue’s across the way, I told him. Yellow’s closer.
Double or nothing?
Oh, shut up.
It took us five minutes to go a quarter of the way around the core, almost to the single bank of lifts between Yellow and Blue. There were no more interruptions, no more flashes of light. Only the clank and clatter and hiss of a station at work.
I stopped at the third access panel, its handle painted yellow, as the one we’d entered through was painted green. It was difficult to see in the dim lighting, but then, maintenance techs all had handbeams. We did too, but not to use right now. Not unless we had to.
Touch. Midpoint here, I told him. We had to exit the access, unseen, and cross the corridor. Blend into any stationers passing by, our jackets covering our weapons.
He fingered the access lock. Ready?
I nodded. He pulled it back an inch. I listened, held up one hand when I heard footsteps, forgetting I could send my thoughts. The footsteps faded.
Touch. I remembered this time. Okay.
He slid the access hatch sideways. We slipped through, straightening quickly as if we just stepped from an office, not the core.
The corridor was quiet, though I could hear voices far behind us. Sully draped one arm over my shoulder, pinning my braid down. I reached back and flipped it out. He snugged me closer. Just two freighter crew on break, catching a little body-heat time.
Windowless metal doors studded the bulkhead on our left. Some had names. In-System Datatronics. Namkhai Sound and Vid. Storage Bay 6-Yellow.
We were looking for Storage Bay 10-Yellow.
A man in a blue lab coat walked quickly by, head down, eyes on the datapad in his hand. I turned casually as he passed to read the letters on the back of his coat. In-System Datatronics.
What did I expect, Jukor Gen-Labs?
Probably won’t say Crossley Burke either.
Quit peeking!
Gentle laughter filtered through his link with me. Sorry.
Sorry, my ass.
We can discuss that as well, if you like. But later.
I elbowed him. So much for a subtle touch signaling my thoughts.
But I knew what he was doing. My heart pounded. I’d crossed nervous when we’d left our appropriated office. I was into scared that could head easily into panic, Fleet training or no. He was trying to keep me relaxed, trying to keep me from focusing on the fact that I had to face a jukor again.
Only fools, as Amaris had taught me, had no fears. And jukors—winged Hellspawned demons that were immune even to the mind talents of a Ragkiril—ranked right up there on the top of my fear list.
Storage Bay 9.
We slowed. I could see a wide set of doors about ten feet ahead of us on the left. I sniffed. Nothing. We came closer. I sniffed again. Jukors had a rank, rotting smell. Though how someone wouldn’t notice, and inquire, had probably already been considered by Cousin Hayden and friends. They’d have to have put powerful air recyclers in place.
Storage Bay 10. Doors were locked, in need of painting. But the dust on the decking was mottled, unlike the undisturbed coating of dust in front of Storage Bay 9.
Someone had walked through those doors recently.
Sully slowed, stopping a few feet past. Touch. Wait. One hand rested on my shoulder, the other in his pocket. He pulled out a handful of lightpens and dropped them on the floor. Then bent down to pick them up.
I stooped to help.
His eyes were infinite, dark. He stared over my shoulder as I picked up the pens, one by one. I pressed them into his hand. He accepted them, automatically, his focus beyond the wall behind us. And beyond my comprehension. Then he pulled me to my feet and pushed us onward.
Touch. No.
No? Disappointment mixed with relief. That means Blue 17.
Great. There goes my shot at double or nothing.
The arm draped over my shoulder seemed to weigh a little heavier this time.
We crossed into Blue. Our target was another storage bay. This one was numbered 17.
More offices, more repair shops. Many more doors with no names. Several storage lockers and bays. We almost collided with two stripers exiting from one, a pallet between them loaded with boxes labeled TOILET PAPER.
I scooted sideways as soon as I saw the uniforms. Shit!
Prophetic, that.
Oh, shut up.
Yes, my angel.
The stripers didn’t even look twice at us. Marker Shipyards had always prided itself on its security. If you were on M-2, then you’d been cleared and belonged here.
Storage Bay 15, 16. Then 17, only a few steps away. I was prepared for the routine this time: pens scattering to the floor and both of us bending down. Sully turned. His eyes seemed incredibly dark, incredibly distant. I tried sniffing but smelled only dust this close to the decking. But here too the dust was
blotchy.
Sully straightened, slowly, took the pens I offered, pocketing them absently. His arm clasped tightly around my shoulders, moving me on. We walked.
Sully?
No answer. His eyes were still dark, no difference between pupil and iris but all obsidian.
We kept walking.
Sully?
A minute.
My heart started pounding. I waited and felt as if my throat wanted to close up.
He pulled me into a side corridor and pushed my back against the wall, his body covering mine. I could feel him breathing hard, almost rasping now. I raised my hands to his shoulders. To anyone passing by, we were lovers, catching that serious body-heat time.
He closed his eyes, his lips resting against my forehead. Then his finger touched my mouth. Chasidah?
I nodded, waited, listened. Heard one word.
Yes.
30
A shudder spasmed through me.
Yes. Jukors. Not twenty feet from where we stood. Jukors.
Up until that moment, part of me prayed we were wrong. The holo of the mangled body of the Takan woman had been faked. Or the result of something else.
But it wasn’t. Sully’s hard yes was final. Through that one word, I could feel he was as shaken as I was. He didn’t want to believe it either.
We stood for a few seconds longer, then quickly broke apart. We knew where they were. We needed to get back to the schematics, find a way to get in there. We headed for the closest core access, slipped in. Now it was best to be seen as little as possible in the corridors. Best someone not recognize us, having seen us before.
We found the first ladder, went uplevel. We were still in Blue when we reached Level 27.
Touch. This way. I took him through Red, looping around the main lift shafts jutting out, with narrow walkways between the three banks. No walls here on the back side of the lifts, though, just a high railing on one side, a lower railing on the other. It opened to a wide chasm of darkness below.
I had a reason. Touch. Emergency shut off for the main lifts, here. If stripers are called, shut down the lifts. Won’t stop them, but will slow them down. They never think to use the core.
A lift whizzed by us, wind whipping our clothing, my hair, momentarily blocking the thin stripe of light from the corridor. I grabbed the railing but Sully stood still, perfectly balanced as if the forced rush of air bothered him not at all. He nodded.
We moved on.
Green. I counted access panels and found ours. We knelt down. Sully touched the access lock, touched me. Ready?
An inch of light cracked into our darkness. I listened, then nodded. Clear.
We moved quickly, the access panel sliding closed just as the office door opened. Ren ushered us in.
Coincidence? Then I remembered. Sully had a link with Ren too.
I stood in the middle of the room and wrapped my arms around my chest. Small explosive charges were in a neat stack, like ten tiny party favors, at my feet. All were keyed for remote activation. All were short-range and shouldn’t pierce the station’s hull. But should, very effectively, dismantle anything inside a closed storage bay. The poison gas released before that would kill any living creature within twenty-five feet in seconds. We had to get into the lab, plant the charges, and seal enviro to keep the gas from leaking out. And we had to leave, alive.
I stood, hugging myself, listening to Sully confirm to Ren that Hell indeed lived on Level 28-Blue of Marker-2.
“Two breeding pair.” Sully positioned himself as if he faced the lab, showing me, telling Ren. “Here, on the right. Narrow, deep cages. A trough of some kind, fluid or liquid, not water.” He etched a line in the air with his hand.
“Takas?” Ren asked.
“One female. She’s … she’s in the advanced stages of pregnancy.” He wiped one hand over his face, visibly distressed. “The infant has already started to consume her. She’s in constant agony. She’s—” He glanced at me, his gaze almost pleading. “I’ll need time to put her down. Peacefully.”
I nodded. “You’ll have it.” As if I had any control of what would happen when we got in there.
I glanced at my watch. Six hours. We had six hours to meetpoint. No, five. We couldn’t assume we’d catch the first shuttle. We had to allow a half hour, an hour to get back to Marker Terminal.
And pray no one followed us or tried to stop us.
I uncrossed my arms and lowered myself onto the floor next to the datapad. It clicked softly as I flipped it open. “Storage Bay 17-Blue, Level 28. Outer location means we can’t access it through the core. But it’s a bay. That means higher ceilings and a larger clearance area above that for overhead access to equipment. And if it was ever used for ship repair …” I tabbed through the schematics, brought up Level 28 only. “Shit. No maintenance pits underneath. We have to find an enviro hatch, come in through the overhead. Trickier. Weight will be a problem. It will be crawling all the way. That’s going to slow us down.”
“Only going in,” Sully said wryly. He sat on the floor next to me. Ren was next to him.
Going in really was our only problem. Going out we’d use the main bay doors. Quickly.
“Guards? Med-techs?” Ren asked.
“One lab tech, human, male,” Sully answered. “In a private office, on the left. I’ll take him out, get the Taka. You two handle the charges.”
I paged through the schematics while he spoke, hoping to find some easier way in, like a tandem bay. Some of them were built that way, with false walls, movable for expansion. But not Storage Bay 17-Blue.
“We’ll need the files in that office too. Whatever you can grab.”
“Agreed.” Sully peered over my shoulder. “Did you find an enviro hatch?”
“Closest one’s at the 24 mark. We’ll have to backtrack.” I kept paging. It looked like the only way. I took my fingers off the touchpad and rested them on my knees. Asked what I had to know but didn’t want to know. “When?”
“My first instinct is to go back there now. But I don’t think that’s the best plan. It’s better if we do it as close as we can to meetpoint. We’ll release the gas as soon as we seal the lab doors. That should take care of the jukors. I’ll key the explosives when we’re in the shuttle. I don’t want to wait too long in the terminal. Once those charges blow, they’re going to be looking for us. I guarantee the lab’s wired for alarms. We have to realize we could get caught at the terminal. They might not let Gregor bring the Karn in.”
“Eventually they have to.” I just hoped it was before Ren’s forty-eight hours were up. “So when?”
“We’re five hours from meetpoint, given transit time. I say at the two-hour mark, we move. Agreed?” Sully’s gaze switched from me to Ren. We both nodded.
“Okay.” He brushed my hair back from my face, then ran his hand down my braid. “Now, no worries until then. We go in with clear minds.”
“And empty pockets?” I asked as his hand snuck inside his jacket.
He brought out his deck of cards with a wicked, wicked Sully grin on his lips. “I’ve got to recoup that double or nothing. Besides, I have a new theory.”
I turned back to the datapad. Sully and his card theories could be painful to watch.
“Shall I deal?” Ren asked.
“Only if you keep your hands in sight at all times. And pull up those sleeves.”
“Certainly. Glad to oblige.”
God. We were sitting in Marker-2 with enough explosives to take out a gen-lab—a gen-lab breeding jukors—and the most pressing issue was a game of cards.
But I couldn’t help myself. I watched the first two hands. I counted the angel of heart-stars cards, holding every one in memory as a good omen. We needed all the good omens, and all the good blessings, we could get.
What was it Berri Solaria said as she left us? Something about the abbot’s holy sword guiding our way. Appropriate image. The sword often stuck out of the backs of the demons in the Englarian paintings. But all I had wa
s my little dagger. Not jukor-proof, that.
I paged through the datapad and opened the Crossley Burke file again. The firm maintained a small office here on 2, uplevel, where the real estate got expensive. Shame we couldn’t get into that as well. I was in the mood to find out just what kind of contributions Burke made to charity. I could still picture him in his finery, oozing through that party… .
The image of the sultry woman in blue flashed through my mind again. Superimposed, this time, with another image.
My hands hovered over the touchpad.
It couldn’t be. I had to be wrong.
I pulled up the vid, much smaller now on the datapad screen. Hit ENLARGE, ENLARGE, ENLARGE. Refocused. Brought her in, brought her face in, the arrogant tilt of a chin, the thin delicate features. I wasn’t distracted by the elaborate makeup highlighting her features this time. I recognized a smile as pure as an angel’s. Or as wicked as a devil from Hell.
Berri Solaria. With her hair down around her shoulders, not back in a bun as I’d always seen it. And it was several shades lighter. Her makeup was skillfully applied. I stared at the entrancingly beautiful Sister Berri Solaria. Leaning on Hayden Burke’s arm.
“Sully!” I barked out his name. My hands shook. I pointed to the screen. “It’s her. She knows him. She knows Hayden and Lazlo.”
“Who, Chaz? What—” He leaned toward me, the smile dying from his face. Cards fluttered through his fingers. His eyes snapped to infinite black. I felt something move through the room, like a hot, angry wind.
“Bitch!” He knelt in front of the pad and grabbed for Ren. Webbed fingers clasped his and the blind Stolorth saw.
“By the stars. No.” Agony laced Ren’s words.
“Look.” I segued quickly to the image of her with Lazlo. Her back was to the camera, but her hand was clearly on his shoulder. It was the same glossy honey-colored hair and rich blue dress.
Sully shot to his feet. Cards scattered, fluttering. “We move. We move now. The bitch works for Hayden. She knows we’re here. What we’re doing. Which means, so does he.”
I felt the holy sword of Abbot Eng pierce right through the middle of my back.
I grabbed his arm. “They’ll have guards—”
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