Chapter 9 #2
One of the raiders approached him. Shorter, leaner, a species Evie didn’t recognize. “The docking ports are secured. Their bridge crew is contained. We’ve locked out their internal communications and taken control of navigation.”
“You better have,” Durik snapped. “We planned long enough for this operation. How long until the Coalition detects the breach?”
“Eight tiks, maximum. We cut their primary distress signal before it could transmit, but they use a continuous feedback pulse as a backup. Cutting distress signals also cuts the pulse, so the Baylan fleet will be alerted.”
Durik nodded. “We have enough time. Sweep this bay. Pella Rin is in this section. The manifest lists him as Patient Nine, agricultural labor detail.”
Evie’s heart hammered. She didn’t blink as she stared through the crack, barely breathing.
“Sir.” Another raider approached. “The research staff on deck four are secured. The lead researcher is not cooperating.”
Silca. Evie’s stomach dropped.
“She’ll cooperate once she understands the situation,” Durik said. “I want the implant data. All of it. Frequency settings, neural mapping, override codes. If Pella Rin’s implant needs to come out, I need to understand what it’s doing to him first.”
“You want it removed?”
“Depends on what we are working with.” Durik turned slowly, scanning the rows.
“Pella Rin built the Sifters into the most feared force in the outer quadrants. Since his capture, we’ve scattered, driven into holes.
But the name still carries weight. Every criminal faction from here to the Kernian border knows Pella Rin.
If I can bring him back, the Sifters will reform overnight.
” He paused. “But I need him somewhat operational. Not a drooling lug on a Baylan leash.”
The rise and fall of Jarran’s breathing changed against her back. He’d heard every word.
“Search the bay,” Durik ordered. “Every storage unit, every utility closet. He’s here and he’s got a doctor with him. A human female. Bring them both. Gently. Pella Rin is not our enemy. He’s our future.”
The raiders spread out. Pairs moving down the rows, pulling open equipment panels. Getting closer.
Evie turned her head up to Jarran. “He’s here to take you back,” she whispered. “He wants to restore Pella Rin and rebuild the Sifters around your name.”
Jarran’s eyes narrowed. “I am not Pella Rin.”
“I know.” She squeezed his forearm and swallowed hard. “But they’re going to find us.”
He said nothing, but she felt him reach to the side for the tools. Evie glanced over to see his hand close around a long-handled cultivation tool, like a hoe, but with some shallow teeth on it. He gingerly lifted it, trying not to make any sound.
The footsteps grew louder and so did Evie’s pounding heart. Two raiders worked their way down the row closest to the storage shed. She could hear them pulling open panels, kicking over containers.
It was inevitable when the shed door wrenched open and red light flooded in. A raider filled the doorway, weapon raised, mouth opening to shout.
Jarran moved. He shoved Evie behind him with one arm and struck with the other.
The tool swung so fast, she couldn’t track the movement.
The hooked blade caught the raider’s weapon hand and ripped the blaster free.
Jarran’s left hand snapped forward, palm-heel striking the male’s throat.
The raider dropped, choking, and Jarran caught the falling blaster before it hit the ground.
The whole sequence took less than two seconds.
Evie pressed herself against the back wall of the shed, her hand over her mouth, staring.
The raider was on the ground, gasping, clutching his throat.
Jarran stood over him with the blaster in one hand and the harvest tool in the other.
His stance had changed. Shoulders squared, weight centered, feet positioned for maximum stability and range of motion.
His head was tilted slightly, his gaze tracking the bay for the next threat.
She recognized what she was looking at: muscle memory and combat training so deeply embedded in his procedural memory that they overtook his conscious thought. This was Pella Rin’s reaction. Pella Rin’s reflexes. The movements were fluid, devastating, and lethal.
He glanced back at her and for a fraction of a second, she saw the flatness she’d glimpsed earlier. It was that same calculating emptiness that had flashed across his face after the kiss. The ghost of the criminal who commanded raiders and built an empire on suffering.
As quickly as it appeared, it vanished. Jarran looked down at the blaster in his hand. His fingers loosened, as if to drop the blaster, but stopped short, as if remembering that their situation was dire. He looked at the groaning male on the ground in confusion and horror.
“I didn’t…” He swallowed. “My body just—”
“Jarran.” Evie stepped out of the shed. “More are coming.”
He looked up. The second raider was already rounding the end of the row, weapon up, shouting. Jarran raised the blaster and fired. The shot caught the male in the shoulder and spun him around. He went down.
Another two appeared from the adjacent row. Jarran handed Evie the harvest tool and pulled her behind a raised planting bed. It was scant protection as blaster fire scorched the air above their heads. He fired twice, then crouched behind the planter. One shot connected. The other went wide.
This time, he fought with basic survival instincts. His hands shook. His brow was furrowed. He looked around with an expression of raw, terrified disbelief. This was just Jarran, trying to keep her and himself from being killed or captured. Evie knew he was no match for Durik’s crew.
More guards converged from multiple directions.
Durik’s voice cut through the noise, shouting orders.
Soon, they were surrounded. Six raiders closed in from three sides, weapons leveled.
Jarran stood in front of Evie, the blaster raised, his breathing ragged.
He turned in a slow circle, tracking targets, and she could see the dismay on his face.
He was counting enemies, trying to identify any way to escape.
Like her, he wasn’t seeing any way out, except with Durik and his guards.
“Put the weapon down.” The closest raider shifted his aim to Evie’s head. “Durik wants you both alive, but I suspect he’d settle for just you, if you want to make this harder than it needs to be.”
Jarran’s grip tightened on the blaster. His jaw worked. She could see his finger on the trigger, the tendons in his forearm standing taut.
“Jarran.” She put her hand on his back. “There are too many.”
He glanced at her. His dark green eyes were agonized. Then he lowered the blaster.
They took him down fast. Two raiders hit him from behind, driving him to his knees. A third wrenched the blaster from his hand. They secured his wrists behind him and she watched the fight drain out of him, replaced by a rigid, shaking fury.
Hands grabbed Evie’s arms and yanked them behind her back. She struggled, twisting against the grip, but the raider holding her was twice her weight and didn’t budge. Restraints clicked around her wrists.
Durik walked toward them. He stopped in front of Jarran, who was on his knees between two raiders, breathing hard. Durik crouched down and studied Jarran’s face. A slow, appraising look that made Evie want to scream.
“There he is,” Durik said quietly. “For a moment, I saw it. Pella Rin is still in there.”
Jarran’s head came up. “I don’t know who that is.”
“You do.” Durik straightened. He turned to his raiders. “Treat them gently. Both of them. The great Pella Rin is not our enemy. He’s our salvation.” He looked at Evie appraisingly. “And his doctor comes with us. She’ll be useful.”
They hauled Jarran to his feet. He struggled in their grip as his gaze found hers. Red emergency lights pulsed across his face. Blood from one of the downed raiders streaked across his knuckles. His expression was raw and desperate.
“Evie.” His voice was rough. “I will keep you safe. Whatever it takes.”
She believed him. That was the part that made her chest feel like it was cracking open. She believed him completely, and that terrified her because keeping her safe might require becoming the thing he feared most.
The raiders dragged them toward the blasted-open bay doors, with Evie being propelled close behind Jarran.
She stumbled over debris. Her wrists ached in the restraints as she was guided through the smoking wreckage of the doorframe.
She spared one last glance back at the planting beds where she’d sat with Jarran and begun to fall for the gentle male who had given her fruit and made her forget that he was her job, before she was propelled through the door and into the smoke-filled lift.
She didn’t know if the Baylan guards elsewhere on the ship had mounted a defense, or if the whole vessel had been taken.
She didn’t know what Durik would do to Jarran and her now that he had them.
But she knew one thing: some part of Pella Rin still lived in Jarran’s mind.
She just had to hope that Jarran was strong enough to resist the monster who’d built empires, because unless she was mistaken, he would soon be fighting for his mind as much as his life.