by Gun Brooke
Not even contemplating that she was risking her own life, she pulled out her fire-starter kit and set the map on fire. She tucked it in under one of the shelves and hurried toward the opening in the tent. If the flames that flickered behind her spread, which was possible as the tent sat directly on the grass, the explosion would be massive.
Pressing out through the opening, Moon ran along the back of the tents toward the forest. She had long forgotten to count and had no idea where the guards were in their cycle. She crawled along the ground, and once she deemed she was far enough away from the tent with the explosives, she crawled under the dense bush and waited, trying to look through the branches toward the forest. Perhaps she would be able to see when the guards met in the middle, and if so, she would just run as fast as she could.
And then the alarm went off in the camp behind her, making her moan as she pressed her face against the ground. Too soon. Too soon! Big searchlights began moving all over the area, and Moon could see them head toward her position. She hugged herself into a fetal position, curling around the center of the dense bush. What if some of the dirt she had smeared over her hands and face had dried and fallen off her pale skin? What if Dancer sensed her predicament and came on one of his rescue missions, leading them to her? He was not used to other humans, and he had taken a liking to Beaux—what if he thought everyone was friendly?
The alarm klaxons howled, and the searchlights kept coming back. Moon sobbed where she lay, fearing she might never see her home again. They would find her and kill her. Or, worse, send her back into slavery. She had to make a run for it. It was her only chance. She rose onto her knees, looking wildly around her—for people, for the searchlights.
And then the explosion tore through everything and slammed her to the ground.
Chapter Eleven
Beaux and her crew quickly armed themselves and began to run. Knowing full well that Kragh and Drak still blamed them for the former sabotage, she couldn’t ignore whatever had set off the alarm. Perhaps once Ilienta realized that the Empress’s crew weren’t behind it, things would get back on track.
“They’re looking for someone,” Tracks called out where he ran next to Beaux. “Check out those searchlights.”
Beaux had seen them. At least five enormous spotlights poured blinding rays of light across the Ilienta camp. Tracks was right. They were looking for someone, which meant there had been another sabotage. That, or they had found out who was behind it and were on the hunt.
As they entered the camp, Beaux motioned with her hands that she wanted her crew to separate and run along the perimeter. She joined the ones on the right, downhill. Around them, miners and security personnel ran in a seemingly disorganized fashion. Suddenly, Kragh was by her side.
“You have some nerve showing up like this, Captain,” he said as he kept up with her. Hoisting a rifle, he scowled at her.
“Believe it or not, Kragh, we’re here to help.” Beaux wanted to swat him over the head with the butt of her own rifle but remained calm. “Whatever’s going on, it’s not any of my crew. I know them better than you know any of yours. Can you spell corporate espionage?” She took a little pleasure in seeing her comment hit home.
“Impossible,” he spat. “Every single member of my teams has been vetted meticulously.”
“If you say so.” Beaux rounded the far-right corner of the Ilienta camp. “What triggered the alarm?”
“We saw a small fire alert on our sensor array. My teams are trying to locate it—”
An explosion cut Kragh off, and Beaux felt herself go airborne. She seemed to fly in slow motion and couldn’t take her eyes off the large bolt of fire that shot up from the edge of the camp closest to the forest. When she slammed into the ground, she had automatically dropped her weapon and curled up. Somehow, she had the clarity of mind to realize she needed to protect her already injured head. She rolled, rather than fell, in among some tents that were miraculously still standing. Next to her, Kragh moaned.
“Captain?” Tracks was at her side. How could he be on his feet already?
Beaux blinked and looked up at him. “Tracks. You all right?” she asked and pushed herself off the ground. The world slowly righted itself.
“Yeah, I’m good, Cap, but you were out cold there for a few moments. How’s the head?”
Beaux touched her temple and then pushed her fingers through her hair. “Not too bad. What the hell was that?”
“Explosives going off—all at once,” Tracks said. “Had to be. That’s some serious shit these fools plan to use.”
“That’s none of your business,” Kragh said, getting to his feet. He was even paler than usual. “If this turns out to be your doing, Captain, or any of your crew, justice will be swift.”
What the hell was this man talking about? Beaux stared at Kragh, and never had she been so close to strangling someone as she was right now.
“Are you insane?” she hissed. “Would we run straight for an explosion of that magnitude if we were behind it? I could have casualties among my crew because we came to fucking help!” Only Tracks’s hand on her shoulder kept Beaux from hurting the hateful individual before her.
“Very well.” Perhaps the trauma had made Kragh question his assumptions. “I need to get over there.” He started making his way on unsteady legs, and Beaux realized this was the first time she had seen him display any human frailty.
After making sure that the part of the crew she was with was intact and not seriously hurt, Beaux motioned for them to follow her. “I want you to keep a healthy distance from the tents. We don’t know if the people behind this have other surprises up their sleeves.”
They moved away from the camp, staying away from the tents and the edge of the forest to their right. When they came closer, Tracks handed Beaux his ocular.
“Thanks.” Beaux studied the scene, where smoldering tents surrounded a crater at least thirty meters across. At this distance, she couldn’t determine its depth. She handed the ocular back to Tracks. “There are bound to be casualties. Who the hell skated through Ilienta’s screening and did this? I hate to admit it, but Kragh is right. Their vetting process is extensive. I know because they put me through it and, through me, all of you.”
“I know,” Tracks muttered. “Even my parents got a visit.”
“Were they as thrilled as mine?” Beaux snorted wryly. She rarely heard from her parents, which suited her fine.
“Actually, my mom took it as a sure sign that I’m finally moving up in the world,” Tracks said.
This remark made Beaux smile, despite the mayhem before them. “All right. Let’s move in a little closer. Until you hear from me, Commander Veyar, or SMC Somas that it is all right, keep a safe distance from their tents, storage, or equipment in general.”
“Aye, sir.” Tracks nodded and relayed the order to the crewmembers behind them.
They pushed forward, and Beaux realized that the heat radiating from the affected area made it impossible to approach. She watched a group of miners head their way and pushed the safety off her sidearm. “You guys all right?” Beaux aimed for an amicable approach but was ready to fire if they showed any hostility.
“It’s a fucking miracle!” A tall, burly man wiped sweat from his forehead. “I can’t believe it.”
“What do you mean, Mister…?”
“Just Emar, Captain.” The man looked stunned. “We’ve been doing a headcount within our teams, and though we have some with minor wounds, there are no fatalities. Nobody’s unaccounted for.”
“That is damn lucky,” Tracks said. “Can we help you with anything?”
Emar nodded, relaxing marginally. “If you can help us search the perimeter for anything that can point to the ones responsible for this?”
“Are you insane, Emar?” one of the other miners said. “For all we know we’re looking right at the guilty ones that tried to take us out, or at least stop us from getting the bonuses we’ve been promised.” He was a short man with a narrow, pointy sort of face.
“Just shut up, Trop,” Emar said with a sigh. “Can’t you just be quiet for once? We need all the help they can give us, or you can forget your bonus.”
Trop opened his mouth as if to argue, but Emar started walking, and when Beaux and her crew joined him, the disgruntled man did the same. He kept sending acerbic glances at Beaux, and finally she turned her head and smiled broadly at him. This seemed to startle him, and she merely shook her head and walked up between Emar and Tracks.
They gave ground zero of the explosion a wide berth, which was a relief as Beaux feared her hair might catch fire. She stopped to study the site. Where the storage tent once stood was a distinct crater. Blinking, Beaux tried to figure out why she found it so strange.
“That’s an odd sight, isn’t it, sir?” Tracks asked.
“Agreed,” Emar said.
Beaux nodded slowly. “A perfect circle, as if someone cut it with a knife. How is that possible?” She looked at Tracks, who had a little knowledge about just anything. That, and harboring a very agile mind, made him often indispensable.
“No clue, but I suspect this is the reason there were no fatalities. The blast zone was contained not only by the crater it made, but it’s as if it reached only the surrounding tents. I take it none were residential this close to the explosives?” Tracks turned to Emar.
“Don’t answer that!” Trop growled. “On a need-to-know basis.”
“Damn it, Trop, who do you think you are? A Cimerian safe keeper?” Emar scowled at Trop.
“You know as well as I that Ilienta can deduct or keep our pay if we blabber.” Trop got into Emar’s face. “And if you, our section leader, do it, you can bet that they’ll use us all to set an example.”
Beaux could tell from Emar’s concerned look that Trop wasn’t entirely wrong. “Don’t worry about it,” she said lightly. “I’ll just ask Kragh or Drak when I see them. Stay icy, okay?”
Emar gave Trop a glare but didn’t volunteer any more information.
“Your ocular, Tracks, please?” Beaux held out her hand to Tracks without looking at him. The twin moons lit up the area that led up to the forest. When she felt the instrument in her hand, she raised it to her right eye. Scanning the area, she saw an occasional miner or an Ilienta security officer. The area wasn’t burned, as it was well away from the crater, but the bushes and shrubs seemed bent and flattened in areas.
As she let the ocular follow the area halfway to the middle, she saw movements at the top of the circular field of vision. She stopped and returned to where she saw something like a shadow move. No. Nothing. She remained still, engaging the steady-hand feature of the ocular. Over and over, she let it search the immediate area, certain she saw something. And then, there it was. A gangly, four-legged creature with a flat nose. Dancer? Or one of his species?
“Want to move on, Captain?” Tracks asked.
Beaux waved him away, not taking her eyes off the creature. “I’m going to stay here for a bit. You and the crew go on. I’ll catch up with you later. I have my new communicator, and we’ll remain on secure channels.”
“Aye, sir.” He sounded doubtful, but Beaux heard him give the order. She let the ocular zoom in, careful not to lose sight of the animal that seemed to be keeping low and moving very cautiously. Not about to approach him, Beaux settled for observing. Dancer, if it was him—and she was pretty sure it was, unless Moon had domesticated more of his kind—disappeared into a dense shrubbery. Beaux thought she had lost him, but after a few moments, he reappeared, walking backward with his backend in the air, pulling something—no, someone. Someone who stood with difficulty and clung to him.
Moon—and she looked injured.
Beaux started running.
Chapter Twelve
The first explosion threw Moon to the ground. Her entire system was reeling from the force of it that pressed her so hard against the shrubs, she feared she might never draw another breath. She clung to the bushes that hid her, refusing to let go as the pressure from the blast wave threatened to send her flying. Her palms ached from the uneven branches, and her ears made strange, high-pitched sounds. She tried to stand up but couldn’t regain her balance. Knowing she was moaning, she was afraid of permanent hearing loss as she couldn’t even hear herself. Sobbing now, she knew they’d eventually find her, lock her up, and discover the telltale scar under her long hair where she’d dug out the tracker. She recalled how proudly, and nervously, she’d airlocked the horrible device that had been one of the things that had kept her a slave her entire life.
After a while, some of her hearing returned, if a bit distorted, and Moon managed to get to her hands and knees. Perhaps she could crawl to the edge of the forest once the commotion had died down—or was it smarter to do it while they were busy dealing with the aftermath?
Moon heard distant voices, or perhaps they only seemed far away because her ears were still suffering. Coughing, she could smell something sharp and alien. Was that from the explosion? Other images flickered through her mind, that of the cruise ship breaking up in deep space, hurling frail bodies to an instant death. How many had died because of her fury tonight? Guilt crushed her, making it even harder to try to rise.
Someone pressed into the bushes, crawling toward her. Moon realized her hearing must be improving since she could hear them. She pushed back, but the dense twigs and branches made it impossible to move. She felt for her weapon and found it in its holster, but she couldn’t persuade her trembling fingers to remove it. Looking up in sheer terror, knowing that her freedom was going to end as soon as she was found, she saw only the outline of a very beloved creature.
“Dancer…” Moon wanted to scream his name, but all the coughing made it impossible to do anything but whisper. “Dancer. We need to go.”
He looked at her like she was clearly stating the obvious. As he came closer, she threw her arms around his neck and felt his powerful jaws clamp down on her collar. As she did her best to help, he pulled her from the bushes and began dragging her toward the forest. She turned her head and watched the mayhem that had been a quiet camp only a short while ago. Expecting to see the ground littered with dismembered bodies, she saw only people running about, most of them carrying weapons. Some were sitting with other people tending to them, but nobody within sight seemed to be missing any body parts. Perhaps the people working for Ilienta had already moved the casualties?
They reached the edge of the forest without being discovered. Looking for the sentries from earlier, Moon couldn’t see anyone and surmised that they were probably down in the camp helping. No doubt everyone was looking for the person guilty of killing and hurting their people. Her stomach twisted, and when they had reached a bit farther in, she slumped to the ground. Dancer appeared to understand that she needed to catch her breath, because he let go of her jacket and sat down next to her.
“Moon.” Gentle hands turned her over onto her side. Beaux looked down at her, frowning. “You’re hurt.”
Jerking, Moon looked up, her eyes huge from shock. “Beaux? No, no, no. Leave me be.” Moon curled up and hid her hands against her. “Just go. Please.”
“Uh. No. Can’t do that. Dancer got you this far, but I think he needs help.” Beaux pushed Moon’s ponytail out of her face. “And you have injured your hands badly.”
“I just need to go home. Or find a tree,” Moon said, slurring her words. Angry at herself for not paying attention, she sat up and looked at the tall trees.
“A tree?” Frowning, Beaux looked at her, apparently puzzled. She wore small lights on her collar, but they were muted enough that Moon didn’t think the people in the camp could see them. She, however, could detect the confusion on Beaux’s face turn into clarity. “A tree. So that’s where you went when my people found me.”
“Yes.” Why deny it? The forest was full of trees, and once she was on her way out of here, they couldn’t very well search each and every one of them. “I’m glad you’re okay and back with your crew, but I—”
“Have to come with me.” Beaux stood, and the way she moved made Moon realize that the concussed, frail woman from earlier had somehow been healed, because here was the captain she had followed when the brummer nearly attacked her.
“Impossible,” Moon said and managed to stand. She was still dizzy, but she was also regaining her strength. “I’m going to use my herbs and deal with this.” She nodded at her hands. “Go back to your crew.”
“I can’t. A lot is going on in the camp, and even if nobody got seriously hurt this time, someone is clearly—what?” Beaux stared at Moon.
Feeling the warmth leave her cheeks and turn them cold, Moon wobbled where she stood on the moss-covered ground. “What?”
“What do you mean?” Beaux took Moon by the shoulders and steadied her.
“I thought people died.” Moon’s voice trembled.
“No. A few minor injuries and a lot of frayed nerves, but that’s it, according to the Ilienta miners.” Tipping Moon’s chin up with a bent finger, Beaux studied her closely. “Wait.”
Moon found herself counting the seconds until Beaux connected the events. She made it to twelve.
“That first sabotage of their equipment…and tonight? It was you.” Going from warm and concerned to cool and stern in less than two seconds, Beaux gripped Moon’s shoulders again, firmer this time. “I’m right, aren’t I?” She shook Moon, though not violently.
“Of course it was me.” Moon tried to yank free. “You’re invading my world, my planet, and they, Ilienta, plan to rape it!”
“Test drilling and looking for natural resources is not raping a planet.” Beaux was obviously frustrated now. Next to her, Dancer growled a warning. “Shush, Dancer,” Beaux said. “I’m not hurting her. I need to get her out of here before the Ilienta security officers apprehend her.”
Her mind a tormented jumble of panic, resentment, and anger, Moon looked at Dancer, who seemed to take Beaux’s word at face value. Traitor.
