by Liz Craven
“Nicely done,” Lia said, unable to disappoint the kind woman beside her.
The small group turned to leave the stall, when a dispute erupted before them. A rather large woman with six children in tow began screaming at a man selling pastries from a cart. Taking advantage of their mother’s distraction the half-dozen children launched themselves into the crowd. Lia watched in amusement as her two elite League guards were jostled aside by small children.
“Stop them,” the rotund woman screeched, grabbing at the nearest urchin.
Thane and Caden automatically reached for the children, while Ilexa danced back, holding the bolt of material above her head and out of reach of sticky fingers.
The opportunity was perfect. Lia ducked behind the merchant’s stall. She palmed the transmitter and made a dash for the nearest door off the promenade. Darting into a hallway, she surreptitiously dumped the damn thing into the bag of a man walking in the opposite direction.
The quiet of the corridor proved a direct contrast to the bustle of the promenade. Lia listened to the clip of her shoes as she headed towards the docking bays.
A quick look at a station map posted on the wall directed her towards the commercial bay area. She had held on to a small number of her personal credits when she gave the rest to Lynaya. She wasn’t sure how far she could travel on them, but was confident she could get out of League territory. After that, she would barter with the items she’d purchased on the station. Not to mention, she wasn’t afraid of a little hard work.
Lia entered the smaller commercial bay and bypassed several large transports. Those would be the first they checked for her. She spotted a dilapidated cruiser in the far corner of the bay. It looked like it might fall apart if someone sneezed on it. Not the sort of vessel the Damaia would ever seek passage on.
She approached the man crouched beneath the ship, tinkering with the wiring. Lia knelt beside the ship, careful of the oil spills. “Where are you headed?”
“Scarpan Nebula,” the man responded without looking away from the ship.
“How much to hitch a ride?”
“Don’t take passengers,” he replied, one hand inching towards a pair of pliers.
Lia hefted the pliers and thrust them into his outstretched hand. “I’m not looking for anything other than a bunk and a lift. You can drop me at the first station you reach.”
The man turned to face her, revealing a filthy face and yellow teeth. Greasy hair hung in clumps around his face. The putrid smell of his breath assailed her, and self-preservation had her breathing through her mouth.
“Don’t take passengers,” he repeated. His eyes roamed along Lia’s trim frame, and he licked his thick lips. “Maybe I make exception…for right price.”
Lia glared at him. “I am only dealing in cash.”
He sniffed as if she had offended his delicate sensibilities. “Then no ride.”
Outraged, Lia rose. Her eyes swept the hanger searching for another option. She was determined to escape, but not at this captain’s price.
She retraced her steps towards the main area of the hanger deck. Halfway to the center of the bay, her brain registered the unusual silence. Lia froze. The bay had been quiet when she entered, but now all noise had completely ceased.
Protective instincts had her shifting the bag holding Asha, and wrapping her body around the smaller one she carried. Hunched over the bundle, she edged towards the storage containers stacked near the closest wall. She unstrapped the satchel and lay the bundle down behind the containers. Fortunately, Asha slept soundly. No doubt worn out by the stress of the day.
Lia edged cautiously around the far side of the containers. She felt foolish, but every fiber she had screamed in warning.
A glance around the bay showed ships docked in various slips, but no people. A movement glimpsed from the corner of her eye made her turn towards the entrance to the hanger. A young man in a Fleet Delivery Systems uniform hurried from the bay, his gaze fixed on the small, handheld pad he carried.
Lia frowned, still unsettled. Where the hell was everyone? If an evacuation occurred, station personnel would announce it over the docking bay’s loudspeaker. Unless that system was damaged by whatever warranted an evacuation. Under those circumstances, an emergency signal would be sent to all handheld units with instructions. Naturally, she didn’t have a handheld unit.
She stepped further out into the bay, away from the shelter of the container bins, trying to spot any movement. It could be an entertainment event on the station that had drawn everyone away. In that case, she had no choice but to wait for pilots to return or use the opportunity to stow away.
Of course, with her luck, she’d stow away on a ship headed deeper into League territory, if not N’yota itself.
Reaching the center of the bay, she gave the area a more thorough look, turning in a small circle, but seeing no one. She clenched her fists, wanting to scream in frustration. She didn’t have time for this. She had to get off the station before Talon found her.
An object whizzing past her ear and the sound of a small explosion coming from the top of one of the ships caught her attention. Confused, she pivoted towards the sound, only to be knocked back by the force of something striking her beneath the collarbone. Pain burst in her chest, stealing her breath.
She rocked backwards, trying to recover when something struck her arm from a different direction. Belatedly, she understood two people were shooting some sort of weapon at her from opposing positions.
Worry for Asha almost sent her back to the containers for cover, but she realized the animal was safe where she was and unlikely to escape the satchel designed to hold her. Lia stood closer to the doors than the containers. Spinning on her heel and setting her teeth against the pain, she bolted for the exit.
An assassin’s shot hit her again, striking her in the shoulder blade. The impact and pain drove her to her knees. Panic and the will to survive had her scrambling back to her feet in spite of the grayness edging her vision.
The doors, still several meters away, slid open, and Talon surged into the docking bay, Caden hot on his heels.
Talon barely glanced at her before he raised a blaster and fired. She heard a scream followed by a loud thud. Talon had hit one of the killers and knocked him from his perch with military precision.
She took two more stumbling steps before Talon’s body hit hers, knocking her to the ground. The fact he used his body to shield hers barely registered before the blinding pain sliced through her consciousness and sent her tumbling into the blackness beyond.
—
Talon stood over Lia’s still form like a wrathful god. Someone had attacked his wife. Blood roared in his ears as he stared at the small figure lying on the hospital bed. Fury boiled in his veins, and he battled back his primal urges. When he found those responsible, he would see their blood run in rivers at his feet.
He heard the groan of metal and realized he had bent the bed’s rail. He forced his grip to relax.
The sickbay medics moved cautiously around him, making adjustments to the medication flowing through Lia’s system. No one dared suggest he move back.
“What’s her status?” he snapped out.
The doctor moved to stand across the bed from him. “The projectiles have been removed and those wounds are already healing. We’ve bandaged the hole in the back of her neck. It’s the wound in her side gives me greater concern. It is badly infected, and the infection has spread throughout her system. I am unfamiliar with this strain, and it appears resistant to the antibiotics we have tried.”
“What are the other treatment options,” he demanded through gritted teeth.
“Once she is stabilized, we can cycle her blood through an external purifier to remove the infection. It’s a slow process, but it’s the best option right now,” the doctor said. “We will continue to analyze the infection and if we are able to isolate antibodies before beginning the dialysis, we will use the less invasive treatment.”
Talon scowled at the
doctor. “I don’t want her to suffer.”
Dr. Brinson drew himself up with an insulted huff. “Of course not, First Minister.”
The doctor was spared more of Talon’s wrath when Lia’s eyes fluttered open. Talon leaned over to fill her vision. “You’re safe,” he reassured her, unable to help the crooning tone of his voice.
He stared into her pale face. Her odd eyes shone more gold than blue. He watched, feeling strangely helpless as those eyes filled with alarm and her head began to thrash.
“It’s alright, Lia,” he reassured her, cupping her face in his hands. “You’ve been given a neuro-blocker. It causes temporary paralysis from your neck down. Don’t try to speak. Your vocal chords are affected by the paralysis.”
He had stilled her head with his hands, but her eyes continued to flick side to side in panic. “Lia,” he said, raising his voice. “Lia, look at me.”
Her eyes met his, speaking eloquent volumes of terror.
Dr. Brinson appeared at his side. “Perhaps I should sedate her.”
“Release the block,” Talon ordered, not breaking eye contact with his wife.
The doctor stiffened. “I will not. I am the doctor here, First Minister.”
“Hang on, Lia,” Talon soothed, before responding to the doctor. “Dr. Brinson, release the block.”
“I don’t think—”
Talon whirled on him, grabbing him by the neck. “Release the block,” he thundered. “Now.”
The doctor choked on a gasp and nodded at one of the techs. Satisfied with the result, Talon returned to hover over his wife. “They are going to reverse the paralysis. You’ll be able to move in just a moment.”
“I want to go on record as saying this is against medical protocol,” Brinson said.
Talon snarled at the doctor, who beat a hasty retreat.
The medic making adjustments to Lia’s medication smiled at Brinson’s withdrawal. “The paralysis will release in about a minute,” she informed Talon.
Talon cupped his wife’s face again. The fear in her eyes causing a vice-like tightness in his chest. “You’ll be able to move in a minute. Just keep looking at me,” he soothed.
He kept his eyes fixed on hers, until she gave a shuddering gasp and bolted up in the bed, the pain making her go impossibly whiter. Talon grabbed her shoulders to steady her, then lowered her back down, while she panted shallow, gasping breaths.
Talon kept his gentle grip on her shoulders, massaging them with a tender touch while murmuring nonsensical words to her. When the panic receded from her eyes and faded into embarrassment, he released her.
Without breaking eye contact, he leaned back. “Claustrophobia?” he asked.
A rosy flush stained her cheeks. “Something like that,” she replied, dropping her gaze from his.
“What happened?” he asked.
She shrugged one shoulder and winced at the pain it caused.
“Lia?” he prompted.
She turned her head away from him before responding. “I was working a tunnel between two excavations, when there was a trembler. The tunnel collapsed.”
Talon waited, but she remained stubbornly silent. “The entrances filled with rubble?”
“The whole tunnel filled. I was buried alive.”
He studied her emotionless profile. “How long were you trapped?”
“Thirty-one hours.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen.”
Fury at the circumstances of her childhood rolled in his stomach, churning bile. Yet, despite the hell she had endured, she’d still tried to escape him. To return to a life rife with danger and pain. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattled. She was going to be safe whether she liked it or not.
And she hadn’t been safe. Even with all the secrecy shrouding her return, someone had located her and sent assassins to kill her. If it hadn’t been for blessings of the gods, he would be standing over her corpse right now. Preparing burial rites for his wife.
Forcing his jaw to unclench, he kept the rage from his voice when he spoke to her. Anger would not help him bridge the gap between them, and he needed to bridge that gap. Without her trust, his ability to see to her security remained limited.
“I won’t let them restart the block,” he reassured her, dropping the issue of her past for the moment.
“Thank you,” his wife whispered, turning her face back towards his. “Was anyone else injured?”
The two assassins had been killed, but Talon didn’t include them when he answered. “No one. They only targeted you.”
“The story of my life,” Lia managed to sound wry, despite the whisper-thin thread of her voice.
“What do you—”
“What about Asha?” she asked with alarm, struggling to sit up again. “I put her down behind the storage containers.”
“You mean the gimfrey you freed from the eatery?” Talon felt the beginnings of amusement beneath his rage. He wished he had seen her determined to rescue an entrée from a restaurant.
She nodded, but the look of alarm did not fade.
“Ilexa had her put in your quarters. It appears the creature suffered no injury, though no one else is brave enough to get close to an angry gimfrey.”
“She’s not angry. She’s frightened. You’d be frightened too if someone wanted to kill you,” she snapped.
“Are you frightened, Lia?” he asked with sudden insight. “Is that why you don’t want to return to N’yota?”
Her eyes flashed with pride. “I’m not frightened. I simply don’t want my life to come to an abrupt end at the hands of assassins, nor do I want to spend my days cloistered to avoid them.”
“I can’t blame you for that, but I can promise you this, Lia. If anyone wants to kill you, they will have to go through me to do it,” Talon vowed, more serious than he had ever been in his life.
His charming bride was so moved by his declaration she rolled her eyes. “Great. Two bodies instead of one. That’ll show ’em.”
Torn between outrage and amusement, Talon was spared a response when the medic reappeared at his side.
“Because we are not using the neuro-blocker, I will administer an old-fashioned pain reliever.” The medic shouldered Talon aside and offered Lia a sincere smile. “I need to warn you, Lady, the drug will make you feel sleepy and a bit stupid. It’s a lot like being drunk.”
“I’ve never been drunk,” Lia replied, eyeing the medic with undisguised suspicion, “and I don’t mind a little pain. I’d rather just go back to my quarters. No offense, but I don’t like doctors.”
“I don’t like them either,” the medic confessed with a grin. “I just work for them. There’s no reason you can’t go back to your quarters once you’ve been given something for the pain—as long as someone stays with you. Without it, the doc’ll want you to stay here to better monitor the stress the pain is putting on your system.”
Talon frowned, not liking the course of the conversation. “I’m not sure moving her is such a good idea. What if she has a bad reaction? And what about the dialysis?”
The medic smiled at his concern, making Talon’s frown deepen. “The infection can be cleared up just as easily in her quarters as it can here.”
“You can move the purifier to her quarters?” he asked.
“Yes, but I don’t think it’s necessary,” the medic returned her attention to Lia. “You got the wound in a xyreon mine, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Lia looked surprised at the question.
“My family worked in Guild mines across the outer quadrant,” the medic confessed. “I don’t think it’s an infection. I think it’s xyreon poisoning.”
Lia glanced at Talon before replying. “There’s no such thing as xyreon poisoning.”
“It’s very rare, and can only occur when the xyreon ore is introduced to internal organs directly. While none of your organs were punctured, several were scraped when you were injured. That’s enough to cause the p
oisoning.”
Talon crossed his arms and studied the medic closely. What she said went against everything he knew about the “safeness” of xyreon energy, but his gut told him the woman spoke the truth. It would explain why Ilexa, a powerful mystic healer, failed to detect the illness consuming Lia. Ilexa’s gift lay within detecting a body’s natural intruders, something poison was not. However, he would not blindly trust this strange woman. Not with the life of his wife.
“And you know how to treat this poison? Assuming it exists,” he asked, lacing his voice with skepticism and narrowing his gaze on the medic.
She drew herself up to her full height—about his mid-chest—and responded, “I was taught to treat many such things by my grandmother. The treatment is simple. A poultice is mixed and applied to the wound to draw the poison out. The body will then be able to eliminate the traces already in the bloodstream.”
Talon admired the medic’s spunk. She also had a quality the doctor lacked—care for her patient. “How do I know this poultice will work? This could be a delaying tactic that will allow an infection to kill my wife.”
Lia gasped, likely at the menace in his voice, but he ignored her. The medic appeared amused rather than intimidated. “Because if I’m wrong, I’ll be dead. If not at your hand, at the hand of the Inderian you travel with. An Inderian vengeance death is not something any sane person would seek.”
“Yes, but Lia would still be dead,” he pointed out coldly.
“First Minister, if you are asking me to prove my intentions, I cannot. All I can do is tell you I took an oath to do no harm, and it is an oath I hold dear. I offered to help move your wife to her quarters because she is clearly uncomfortable here—though why anyone would be nervous in such a cold, sterile and foreign environment as a sickbay is beyond me—not to hide any part of my treatment. I can apply the poultice here with the doctor to observe her vitals if you like, assuming I can convince him something other than his scientifically engineered nano-treatment would work.”
Talon noted Lia’s smile at the dry sarcasm the medic showed. He also liked the young medic’s attitude. Plus, she had a point. No one would be able to prove their intentions to his satisfaction.
