Rebel Alliances (Targon Tales Book 3) Page 8

  “Aren’t they going to take us to their ship?” someone wanted to know.

  “I don’t think so. They won’t have room or air for that.”

  “They’ll just kill us all,” the Centauri woman exclaimed. Her violet eyes flickered like a faulty light bulb as she blinked nervously. “If they’re lost, too, they’ll just kill us and take our air!”

  Nova frowned, mainly because the woman was likely correct. Unless the rebel ship, for some inconceivable reason, had a Level Three spanner aboard, they were as lost as everyone else here. How long they would last on the available air, food and water would all come down to everyone’s interest-level in keeping each other alive.

  “The important thing is to keep calm,” she said, all too aware that nothing they did now would make any difference to the rebels about to board the freighter. Her only hope was that they had pursued them because of the value of the ANI project team aboard. Whether for ransom or for the interface technology, it would give them another chance for survival.

  They soon felt the thump of a large ship locking onto one of the bays, momentarily jarring the gravity depth of their ship.

  “They have to come through that lock,” a lieutenant standing beside Nova said. “We can pick them off one by one.”

  She turned to him. “You will follow my orders, soldier. You can take out a handful and then what? They’ll disengage the cruiser and blast us out of the sky just for spite. Your priority is the civilians.”

  He seemed unconvinced but decided to stand down.

  “Do nothing,” she addressed the others. “Do not incite them and maybe we can get out of this. Please just stay calm.”

  They all stared anxiously at the air lock gate when it finally opened to admit the boarding party. The civilians crowded back against the bay walls when they saw four Centauri and two Humans, likely chosen for their size and menace, step through the door. They were heavily armed, weapons ready. All were dressed in a mix of body armor, combat uniforms and civilian clothes, as patched and scuffed as their scarred faces and arms.

  Nova winced when one of the Union soldiers took a step toward them.

  “Drop that gun, boy,” a Centauri rebel barked. The Human beside him was not so accommodating. He raised his gun and shot the lieutenant. The soldier was thrown back into the huddle of civilians cowering behind him. The Centauri scowled at his companion before speaking again. “The rest of you, hand over your weapons.”

  Nova and the remaining soldiers complied. Another rebel quickly collected their guns and returned to the air lock. Moments later a different Centauri emerged from there, accompanied by an elaborately tattooed Feydan woman. He still wore the Air Command uniform that had disguised him on Dannakor, proclaiming himself as major. It was one normally issued to Human soldiers but the short sleeves and trouser legs didn’t seem to strike him as awkward. His violet eyes moved slowly from one of the escapees to the next as if taking measure of each of them.

  “Who is the captain here,” he said finally.

  After a silence one of the crew members spoke up. “She was on Dannakor. I think the com officer is still on board somewhere. Other than that it’s just regular crew here.”

  The Centauri nodded. “Didn’t expect an admiral on a cargo plane. Who is your spanner?”

  There was some uneasy shuffling of feet and a few stolen glances in Nova’s direction.

  “He’s dead,” she said quickly. “Still at the helm. Didn’t survive the jump.”

  The Centauri turned his glowing eyes to Nova and stepped closer to her. He reached out and pinched her face in his hand to turn her head, bringing her neural interface in view. “You’re a pilot.”

  “I am,” she said and pulled out of his grasp.

  “Let me save you some time.” They turned when Sao Lok stepped forward. Two of the rebels turned their guns on him but he waved his hand to shoo them aside. “That pilot is an Air Command officer. The interface you see there is the new ANI model. I am Sao Lok, of the Arawaj, and was on Dannakor to obtain a copy of the interface and the files for our leader, Pe Khoja.”

  Nova rounded on him. “What?” She reeled with the information the Caspian had so casually tossed into the room. Not only was her new acquaintance a member of a rebel faction, but what was that about Pe Khoja? “Pe Khoja is dead,” she said. “I was there.”

  “Thank you for confirming that, Captain,” Sao Lok said. “And in time you’ll pay for your part in that. His mission, and that of the Arawaj, is not dead.”

  “Shut up,” the Centauri leader snapped. “Both of you.” He glared at the Caspian. “I don’t give a damn about your leader. Right now we’re just looking to get back to Trans-Targon.” He turned back to Nova. “And you will get us there.”

  “I can’t,” she said. “I don’t know how. I’m a Level One chartjumper. If I tried this we could end up in an even worse place. I have no idea how to get us back to Trans-Targon.”

  The rebel leader raised his hand and struck her across the face. She stumbled backward and resisted an urge to retaliate. The guns pointed at her helped to fight the impulse.

  “Stop that at once,” Sao Lok said. “That implant is new. You’ll only damage it by hitting her.”

  The Centauri leader looked over the semi-circle of people. “How many more on board?” he asked.

  “Someone on the bridge, three down that hall. Couple in one of the cabins,” a rebel with a scanner told him.

  “Which of you were working on the ANI project?” the leader demanded and saw a few hesitantly raised hands. He gestured for them to move toward the corridor. “Medics?” A few more joined them. He scrutinized the remainder, civilians and four Union soldiers, before gesturing to Jovan to step aside, as well. Delphian hostages were easily sold back to their families at very worthwhile rates. He pulled a few more people from the group and Nova realized that all four of them were attractive women.

  “Look,” she said. “We have other options. There may be habitable planets around here. Or we can try to send a message back to Trans-Targon. That’s what the interface is designed for, after all. Just ask Lok. Leave these people alone.”

  The Centauri grasped Nova’s arm and shoved her toward one of his men. “I told you to shut up. I don’t intend to risk my neck on an unexplored planet or let you send a message to Air Command.” He gestured for his men to herd the selected group away, toward the cargo areas, before speaking to the brutish Centauri holding Nova in a painful grip. “Lock her up somewhere. Maybe give her something to think about.” He started to walk back into the umbilical to his own ship. “Get the others to quit breathing my air.”

  And so she found herself, hours later, cuffed and alone in the dark. And dreading the return of the Centauri who had thrown her in here.

  He had struck her but had pulled his punches to avoid serious damage to the one person that might see all of them home again. Her wrists were tightly bound with an elastic strap that immediately cut into her skin. Finally, he had searched her for weapons and took away the laser tool, a knife and her communication array.

  She cursed when he moved on from checking pockets to exploring her curves. When he thrust a rough hand between her thighs she twisted away and tried to reach his gun. In answer he whipped her around and shoved her against the wall. He outweighed her by half again and she felt his large body press against her back and his hot breath on the nape of her neck. Centauri liked to use their teeth when aroused but there was nothing playful about the bite that now sunk into her neck.

  When she felt his hand fumble with the fastener of her trousers her fury overtook her training. To hell with passive resistance, never mind that an all-out fight would only bring more rebels into the assault. This was personal. She struggled to maneuver her bound hands to activate the little ring she still wore on her thumb. Twisting as far as she could, she pressed her hand to his face.

  A surprised shriek broke from the rebel’s throat as he recoiled, clutching his face. Nova leaped aside and barely avoid
ed the full force of his fist as he swung blindly in her direction. She ducked low and swept his legs out from under him, lurching out of the way when his hefty body crashed to the ground. His head slammed into the wall where he had pinned her and she saw with some satisfaction a splatter of blood left behind.

  The door to the hall opened. “What the hell are you doing to her?” a Human rebel exclaimed. He grabbed Nova’s collar and shoved her back when he saw her haul back to kick the prone Centauri. He laughed harshly when he understood the situation. “That was you screaming like a little girl, Lef?”

  Nova jerked out of the Human’s grasp and retreated, clenching and unclenching her numbed hand.

  “Bitch!” the Centauri swore, still holding the side of his head. “She stung me with something. Get it off her.”

  She did not struggle when the rebel twisted her hand to remove the ring. A broken finger was not something she wanted to add to her problems right now.

  “Making you work for it, is she?” he said. “Looks like you’re done with her for now. Rakh wants us to get the others rounded up.”

  The door shut behind them, leaving Nova in perfect darkness and aware that only luck had saved her this time. She crumpled to the ground, gasping, trying to fight back the memory of a less fortunate incident so long ago on Bellac Tau. Long ago, dealt with, gotten over, she told herself. The doctors had said so.

  According to Air Command manuals there were worse fates to suffer at the hands of an enemy. All female Union soldiers received training in how to deal with the physical and mental impact of violations such as this until it was reduced to little more than an unpleasant occupational hazard. Nova understood all too well the need for desensitizing and of the tedious post-mission psych evaluations that all of them underwent. But preparing for this and living through it were not even in the same sphere of reality.

  All that had been hours ago. No one had come back since. She had stayed in a corner of the room, curled on the metal floor and had sought escape from her pain in sleep, grateful for the Delphian training Tychon had passed along to make that possible.

  Nova sat up, wiped her face on her arm and tried to assess the damage to her body. She ached everywhere but it felt mainly like bruises. Her shoulder had been scratched by something sharp along one of the walls or perhaps on the floor and she suspected that she was bleeding from the Centauri’s bite. But everything seemed to work when she moved.

  Tychon had been foremost on her mind when she had felt the rebel’s rough hands on her body. The ghastly murder of his first wife still haunted him and it had taken a long while before Nova had told him what happened on Bellac Tau. He would never know how close she’d come this time, she promised herself, knowing quite well that the threat wasn’t over.

  The thought of Tychon, always seeming so rational, so calm, even when upset or angry, helped her organize her thoughts. He would assess the circumstances, ignore the pain in his body, and look for opportunities to resolve the situation. Of course, all of these things seemed to come easily to Delphians, who simply dropped into another level of consciousness when the current one wasn’t up to the task. But what would he do, floating around in the middle of nothing with a pack of Shri-Lan rebels and a bunch of frightened, abused civilians? She bit her lip hard enough to hurt. He would not give up, that was certain.

  She had no allies here and by now the rebels would have eliminated the handful of poorly-disciplined soldiers that had escaped the facility. Her options were non-existent. The only thing, she realized, that would help any of them was to try to make the jump back to Trans-Targon. Perhaps she would be luckier than Luce if she took her time and relied on her experience with more complex ships than he would have piloted.

  She squinted when a sharp slice of light cut into the darkness. The door to the corridor opened and then someone used the control in the hall to turn on the overhead lamps. She blinked and raised her bound arms over her head to shield her eyes before realizing that she now appeared to be cowering in fear. She dropped her arms again and looked up at the Centauri.

  She gasped in surprise when he pushed the Delphian youth she had met earlier into the room. Jovan stumbled over her legs and nearly fell.

  “Get her fixed up, Delphi,” the Centauri barked. “Rakh wants to talk to her.”

  Jovan crouched beside Nova. “What, by the Gods, did you do to her?” he exclaimed, like the Centauri using the common trade language of the Trans-Targon sector.

  Nova bared her teeth, about to snap something caustic at the rebel when Jovan passed his finger over his lips. She remained quiet.

  “Teaching the Human some manners. Get on with it.”

  “She is practically catatonic! How can you possibly expect her to jump any site, not to mention an uncharted one, if she in such a state? Just look at her!”

  Nova kept her eyes directed at nothing and mumbled something unintelligible.

  “I barely touched her,” the rebel said without conviction.

  “Go immediately and fetch some clean bandages and disinfectant,” Jovan said sharply, with all the arrogance of a Delphian among lesser creatures. “I’ll see what I can do to make her coherent before your master sees what you’ve done to her. I suggest that you keep your hands off this woman if you expect to find your way home again.”

  Incredibly, the Centauri withdrew and slammed the door behind him.

  Nova looked up at Jovan. “Nice work!” she said, speaking Delphian. “Have you actually ever talked to a rebel before?”

  He collapsed to sit on the floor beside her. “I’ve not ever been so frightened!” He laughed nervously. “And I’ve never been away from Delphi before, since you seem to be alluding to my lack of experience.”

  “You did that well, Jovie. How did you get in here?”

  “It’s Jovan,” he pointed out. “I told them I was a Shantir. Most of them seem to think that means healer. I figured they’d get rough with you.” He had spotted the smear of blood on the wall. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, all’s well. That’s not mine. Thanks for worrying about me.” She held up her wrists and winced when he tugged on her bonds to untie them.

  He shrugged. “You’re Tychon’s mate. I don’t want to see you harmed.”

  She came to her feet. “Thanks, kid. Not wild about Humans, either, are you?”

  “They’re all right,” he said with an air of someone who has met hundreds of them. “He must have good reason to have taken up with you.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “I don’t,” he admitted. “I’ve seen him once or twice. He came by the enclave when Lord Phera stayed with us a while. Some of us waited around to get a look but we didn’t speak with him. He sort of nodded when he went by. Sami was going to say something to him but then she changed her mind. I think he frightened her.”

  Nova smiled. Air Command actively, if discreetly, recruited Delphians for their unfailing ability in combat and vast capacity for mathematics and engineering. Those who joined the military tended to work in more crucial parts of the Trans-Targon sector and rarely returned to Delphi except to meet familial obligations. Tychon, like other Delphian officers, had taken on heroic proportions among their younger kinsmen. It irritated him as much as it amused Nova.

  “There is always much talk about him in the enclave. He has seen so much, done so much. And he takes a Human woman and cares not one bit what the Council thinks of it! A Human soldier, at that!” He contemplated for a moment. “Is it true you used a lava flow to save an entire city?”

  “It was a smallish city.”

  “I’ve wondered what it’s like being off-world, fighting rebels, seeing new places. It sounds so fantastic.”

  “Well,” Nova said, testing the air lock on the other side of the small chamber. The key plate beeped encouragingly but kept its secret as to what was behind the door. “You get beat up a lot, I can tell you.” The display near the lock told her that the cargo pod behind it was depressurized. “And shot at. A lot.” S
he looked around the small room, seeing nothing but bare metal and sealed doors. She slapped her hand onto the one leading to the hall. “And locked up when what you really want is a toilet!”

  He gasped. She suspected that interacting with Humans had not been on the Shantirs’ daily lesson plan for him, after all. Off-worlders tended to overestimate the younger Delphians whose intellect and education easily surpassed those of most other races. She reminded herself that they aged emotionally and physically at a much slower rate and this boy, in particular, had likely not experienced much outside the confines of the enclave.

  She half-turned away from him and pushed her hair out of the way. “How does that look back there?”

  He peered at her neck. “Bad bruise. That rebel did that? Are all Centauri such monsters?”

  “Most of them aren’t a bad lot.” Her shirt had adhered to the blood on her shoulder and she hissed when he tugged it away.

  “That one could use some tape,” he said. “Your face is bruised around the eye. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  She shook her head. “How many rebels are on board the freighter?”

  “Just a few on the bridge. Most of them left to go back to the battle cruiser. We can move around the cargo bays. They found the guns and they took all the food.” He stared at nothing for a moment and took a few slow breaths. “They... they killed the soldiers and some civilians. It… it was…”

  Nova watched the troubled look on his face dissolve into a distant expression formed by both his training and his adolescent need to appear unaffected. She knew better than to try to comfort him.

  “How many are left? Of our people?”

  “I’m not sure. No more than a dozen.”

  “I’m going to have to jump us,” she said. “Back to Trans-Targon.”

  He wrinkled his brow, puzzled by something. “This is all very new to me. How much harder is it to go through a keyhole than through a regular jumpsite?”

  “A lot. All jumpsites used to be keyholes, of sorts.” Nova looked around. “That door there is like a jumpsite. Someone made that door; you can go through it. It’s not that hard and most pilots can do it. Your ship does most of the work. But going through a keyhole is like finding your way through the molecules of that wall and then making a hole big enough to hop through.”