“No. Don’t look at me like that.” With no difficulty now, she pulled her wrists free and cupped his face in her palms. She stroked his bristly beard and rose to kiss him, full on the mouth. At first he devoured her kiss hungrily, like it was a balm to his soul, and then his tongue slid past her defenses and possessed her mouth. His slow, savagely gentle strokes pooled heat low in her body. He kissed her until she was mindless, drugged with love and feverish with longing. When he pulled away, she wasn’t sure what he meant to do. Her mind still felt fuzzy from the bliss of finally holding the man she loved in her arms.
He was halfway to the door when she realized his intent. “Joshua!”
“Stay here,” he said hoarsely. “For me.” And then he was gone. The lock tumbled into place.
Anya put her hands to her face and cried out in torment.
* * * * *
Shaking, Joshua stood very still outside the locked door. His hand clenched the doorknob.
Abruptly, he strode down the hall, heading for the elevator. Once inside, he punched in the code to ZCA and leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes, battling to control his emotions. Anya’s soft, urgent pleas for him to kiss her had undone him. For long, disorienting minutes, he had lost all grip on space and time. Overwhelmed by his relentlessly suppressed, fierce need to make her his own, he had nearly forgotten his mission.
Summoning the strength of will to leave her had taken superhuman effort, because for the first time in his life he had glimpsed, in Anya’s arms, what love could be. He wanted her with a need that bordered on desperation. Only protecting her, and freeing his territory, meant more to him than satisfying that desire.
The doors slid open.
“Been waiting for you.” Michael thrust a vest into his arms and walked fast for the door to the airbay. “The ship is ready.” He cast Joshua a penetrating look. “Are you?”
Joshua zipped the vest, then pulled his parka over it. “Yes. ZCA channel?”
“Open. Use housekeeping, though, until it’s compromised.”
Joshua nodded, striding fast across the airbay to the hive of hovering black airbirds, all awaiting his arrival. He hit the door release button of the lead craft, then looked at his brother. “Take care of her, Michael.” If he didn’t return. It didn’t need to be said. They both knew he would probably be dead within the hour.
“Take this for back up.” Michael shoved a small plastic capsule in his hand. “In case you’re in a bind.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t bite too soon.”
Joshua’s fist curled around the object, and then shoved it into his pocket. A smile ghosted his lips. “You and your technological wonders.” For a second, he eyed his brother, and then reached out and gripped his shoulder. “I’m proud of you, and everything you’ve become. You’re a good man.”
In response, Michael gripped Joshua’s shoulder, too. “You’ll make it. Our father couldn’t kill you. Neither will Onred. You’ll come back and take care of Anya yourself.”
Joshua allowed himself to smile, although in his gut, he didn’t believe it. He released his brother and swung into the aircraft. A touch to a button, and the door slid shut. Another few strokes across the control panel, and his bird shot for the black mouth of the tunnel.
* * * * *
Anya lay on the bed for a full minute after Joshua left, weeping with fury. He had tricked her. How much of his lovemaking had been real? How much had been manipulation?
She had begged him to touch and kiss her. Anya closed her eyes in utter mortification. How pathetically weak and eager she had been for his caresses. And how swiftly Joshua had taken full advantage.
She hated him. Yes, she did. And she despised herself.
Fed up with self-pity, propelled by anger, she rolled off the bed and attacked the door, shaking the knob viciously. Locked, of course.
He had left her. He had locked her in Michael’s bedroom! Anya let out an animal sound of fury and searched the room for a weapon she could wield against the door. A key would work best. Otherwise, she’d have to break it down.
One part of her mind realized that Joshua must be back in ZCA by now. She didn’t have much time if she wanted to catch up with him.
Anya rummaged through the drawers in the dresser beside the bed. They were empty. So, this wasn’t Michael’s bedroom. It must be the guest room. She shoved open the closet, but found nothing but hangars. The thick wire wouldn’t fit in the old fashioned keyhole.
She surveyed the room. It was bare, except for the bed, dresser, and a picture on the wall. In two strides, she plucked it off. A thin wire on the back balanced it on the nail. She smiled. Here was the advantage of being locked in a half-primitive society. Pictures in Astana were hung with plastic suction tags.
Impatiently, she twisted and pulled at the metal filament. The wire poked into her fingers, pricking up a bubble of blood, but she freed the wire from the picture and inserted it into the pinhole lock. The keen awareness of time slipping by inspired quick, urgent jabs into the keyhole.
She checked her stopwatch. Fifty minutes left until Onred bombed Omsk. Right now, Joshua must be preparing to fly.
She jabbed the lock again and again. Dead, metallic clicks resulted.
Joshua couldn’t leave without her. He just couldn’t. He needed her. So did Donetsk Territory, and her brothers and sisters.
Anya took a breath and slowed down. Delicately, she probed the lock. She had to escape right now. She had to. Joshua couldn’t go without her. Much as she was furious with him at the moment, the persistent, deep certainty that he was flying to his death lodged like an unmanageable boulder in the pit of her stomach. Tears of frustration hovered. “Please God,” she whispered. “Help me. Protect him.”
Anya picked again and again at the lock, but it refused to release. She glanced at her watch.
Forty minutes left.
Joshua was long gone. She had failed.
A helpless moan escaped, and she squeezed her arms around her middle. She felt sick. He was gone. Forever.
“No.” With a gasp, Anya lunged across the room. She yanked out a drawer and then spun and swung it with all her strength at the door handle. “No,” she panted, and struck it again and again. “No, no, no!”
* * * * *
Joshua broke Mach 1 all the way to the remains of Astana. Twelve of his fighter birds peeled off seconds after swarming up from the western end of the Tien Shan, heading for the decoy destination. It had taken two minutes to fly out of ZCA’s fifteen kilometer tunnel, which was designed to protect ZCA’s location. Satellites had probably picked up the exiting aircraft, but hidden, well-armed sentries guarded the secret exit.
For now, it didn’t matter. Joshua shot a glance at his black wristwatch. Five minutes until Omsk blew. His radar screen picked up twenty of Onred’s airbirds hovering on the southern edge of Astana. A few others slyly slipped in lazy patterns to the north. A few scooted east and west. He spoke into his transmitter, which was programmed into the housekeeping network. “Red team, time to play.”
Six birds broke free from the pack to play chicken with Onred’s fey forces.
On the ground, far ahead, all of Onred’s birds looked the same size. No warships were in sight. A few men stood on the moonlit snow pack, waiting. Joshua’s fingertips slid digital pictures of Onred and his favorite bird into the craft’s recognition system. He muttered, “Find Onred.” His computer screen zoomed in on the enemy, enlarging the pinpoints to full figures.
Three minutes now. One until he touched down.
Joshua’s bird screamed in at Mach 1, cutting the frosty air so fast that muted thunder signaled his arrival. Unease registered on several enemy faces.
“Onred not found,” the polite female computer voice stated. “His ship cannot be located.”
Joshua’s quick scan had net the same conclusion. He had, however, spotted Onred’s second-in-command, Belar, on the ground. “The nest is empty,” he reported into his microphone. “But the crow i
s hungry.” Time for plan B.
He braked a hundred meters distant from the hovering enemy airbirds. With slow deliberation, Joshua pulled on his gloves and stuck the capsule into the secure pocket between gum and cheek. He shot a glance skyward. “If ever I needed help, it’s now, God.”
Hood down, he slid open the door and jumped lightly onto the moonlit snow pack. Arctic wind ruffled his hair. He tapped his transmitter to open broadcast.
His fighters kept to the air, but the comforting lights of two birds flanked Joshua as he left the safety of his aircraft. He faced the hovering pack of enemy craft. The black and silver, twisted steel of Astana rose behind them, a silent graveyard of death.
Joshua set his jaw, dismissing his emotions, and advanced at a controlled pace toward the five waiting men.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It took five precious minutes for Anya to beat the doorknob crooked. It took another five to figure out how to release the bolt.
Thirty minutes remained. She would never catch up with Joshua now. But she could still be useful. If only she could figure out where he meant to lure Onred, perhaps she could reach that location before Onred’s bird arrived—with Joshua probably inside it. If he would ever need her, it would be then.
Anya sprinted into Michael’s living area and searched for a communication device. Surely it would be logged into ZCA’s communications system. She swiftly scanned all surfaces. Finding nothing, she pawed through drawers, leaving behind a scrambled, disordered mess. She forced herself to slow down. Think, Anya.
Surely Michael had a back up phone somewhere. If he was sleeping, he’d want double warning in case of an emergency.
His bedroom! Anya sprinted back down the hall. The first door she opened made her pause. It was filled with technological equipment, most dismantled—or was it in the process of being created? In any case, she didn’t have time to do more than give it a cursory glance. No phone. She darted to the next room and skidded to a halt before Michael’s dresser. A small black phone rested in a cradle.
Yes. She scooped it up and swiftly scanned the networks. The phone was logged into Alpha channel. She tapped open a small window for this blank channel. Michael’s phone wasn’t programmed for the housekeeping network, but she had paid careful attention when Slovic had first redirected her computer’s system in the airbay, and with only a few missteps, replicated his procedure. Two channels materialized, and below them, the closed ZCA channel.
With swift finger taps, she entered her personal codes and opened the housekeeping channels on separate, tiny windows. A quick dig in Michael’s drawer unearthed the wireless earplug, and she took off for the front door. Her bag lay near the door, where she’d left it, and she scooped it up on her way out.
ZCA’s channel code was the only vital piece of information she lacked. While Michael might have hidden the code somewhere in his cave, she didn’t have time to look for it. Time was slipping by much too fast. The pilots would probably use the housekeeping channels for now, anyway, and keep the ZCA for back up. She hoped.
She dashed down the long hall, brushing by strangers she barely noticed. Out in the crowded main cavern, she skirted the wall, and made for the elevator.
“Fruit?” cackled an old woman as she passed.
“No. Thank you.” Anya ran for the elevator and pushed the button.
It seemed to take an eternity to arrive. Finally, with a clunk, the doors crept apart. Anya squeezed inside and punched the “up” button. With another faint groan, it lurched upward. She pulled on gloves and zipped her coat to her chin.
When the elevator finally stopped, Anya bolted through the cracked doors and sprinted for freedom. Moonlight on snow glazed the cave’s entrance. She had forgotten it was nighttime.
“Hey! Stop.” A guard blocked her path.
Bright light blinded her eyes, and she lifted a hand in protest. “Excuse me. I need to get out.”
“You’re Anya Dubrovnyk.” A smile lightened the heavy voice.
“Yes.” She favored him with a strained smile. “Let me pass. I have an assignment to complete.”
“Funny thing. The Baron left orders to keep you inside Tash.”
* * * * *
“Baron,” Belar rumbled. He was a big man with shorn black hair and a goatee. In fact, all four Altai men with him sported shorn heads and goatees. Except for variations in body type and facial structure, each could pass as a clone of Onred. “Where’s Anya?”
Joshua assessed Belar and the other men, measuring their threat level. “At another location. I’ll take you to her.”
“No, you won’t.” Belar lifted a finger. Fire spit from an Altai aircraft and the ground behind Joshua shuddered. His bird had exploded.
Joshua didn’t bother to look. “If you want Anya, you’ll follow my instructions.”
“Report.” A voice crackled from Belar’s transmitter.
“Van Heisman is here. Dubrovnyk is supposedly in a different location.”
The voice swore. “Kill him.”
Four lasers leveled at Joshua.
Belar raised a hand. “What about Dubrovnyk? He says he’ll bring us to her.”
Another curse. “It’s a trap.” Silence elapsed. Belar waited patiently. “Go. But send in your fighters first. If it is a trap, send Van Heisman here. I’ll torture the truth out of him myself.”
“Roger.” Belar smiled at Joshua, revealing a broken front tooth. “You’re going for a ride, Baron. You are a foolish man.”
Four men sprang forward and shoved Joshua face first into the snow. Quick hands divested him of all weapons. Tight bands confined his wrists behind his back. They dragged him upright and forced him toward the nearest airbird. An enemy airman climbed in first, then Joshua, and then Belar, who settled into the pilot’s seat. Joshua sat behind him while the airman behind Joshua held a laser to his head.
Belar cast him another pleasant smile. “Give me the coordinates.”
“I’ll give you the first set.”
The laser poked harder into his head. “The destination, Van Heisman!”
Belar laughed as the airbird shot skyward. “It’s a game, Skylar. Cat and mouse. But we’ve bagged the prize. We’ll play his game for a little while.”
Joshua relayed the first set of coordinates. They were also the final coordinates, but Belar did not know that. He also did not know that a dozen of Joshua’s birds had stealthily arrived twenty minutes earlier and now waited, armed and hidden in the forested foothills.
The radar screen showed the enemy birds darting at Joshua’s nearby aircraft, trying to force them back.
Belar chuckled again. “You are a fool, Joshua. And I always thought you were a worthy opponent. No wonder Onred didn’t come himself.”
“Where is he?”
Belar snorted. “Readying the thermal for Omsk.”
“Why blow up our cities? You need our greenhouses.”
“We’re not interested in your greenhouses. They’re easily replicated, once we win your flatland.”
“What do you want, then?” Joshua could venture a guess, but wanted confirmation of his suspicions.
Belar did not answer.
The instrument panel read one minute out from the decoy location. Enemy aircraft shot forward to scope out the rough, hilly landscape, darkened in folds of night.
“I see an aircraft,” crackled a voice.
“Blow it up.”
“No!” Joshua said forcefully.
The exposed craft had been left for bait.
“Blow it up,” Belar repeated with a chuckle. “Then we’re heading home.” He touched the controls and the aircraft spun. “Our mission is complete, Onred. You can blow up Omsk.”
“You don’t want peace,” Joshua said through his teeth.
Belar grinned again. In the half light, his eyes looked like sunken black shadows, and his mouth a gaping black hole, like a ghoulish specter. “We want Donetskis to come crawling to us, begging for peace. When you and all of the Dubrovnyks
are dead, we might take them as slaves.”
“Enjoy hell,” Joshua said in a pleasant voice. He lurched sideways, punching his elbow into the door release button. Laser fire blazed, licking across his cheek as the door jerked open.
He hurtled out into deep, impenetrable blackness.
Strange. The moon was up. It shouldn’t be so dark.
Joshua bit into the capsule.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Anya tensed. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dim light in the huge cave, and now she spotted the other guard strolling closer. Together, the two burly men could easily force her back inside Tash.
She had to get to Joshua. This feeling grew stronger by the minute. Anya slipped her hands into her pockets and felt through the slit opening for her utility belt. She kicked the laser to its lowest possible setting, and then double-checked it. Although using a laser would be her last resort, she’d do anything to get out of this cave and find Joshua. Even if he’d manipulated her and his kisses meant nothing, she loved him. She would save him, or die trying.
“I’m Jason Dubrovnyk’s daughter,” she stated coolly. “I’m first in line for power. My orders supersede Joshua’s. Step aside.”
“Sorry.” The guard nearest to her did sound apologetic, but he advanced one step closer. Another, and he would be able to grab her. “But our first loyalty is to Joshua.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she murmured. Whipping out her laser, Anya shot him in the knee. Before the second guard could reach for his weapon, blue light spit into his knee, too. She was lucky they’d both been near enough to hit on the first try. She wasn’t an expert markswoman, much to her father’s chagrin.
Both men crumpled to the ground, moaning and clutching their legs. Long ago, her father had drilled into her that shooting the knee was the best way to incapacitate a man without killing him. It hurt like a son-of-a-gun, but the victim would fully recover within fifteen minutes.
Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance)) Page 12
