Chapter 4
Nia’s heart threatened to burst from her chest. The mines went on as far as she could see, packed together tight.
She glanced at the warrior beside her. He was unhinged, psychotic. Even a slight jostling could destroy them. Her stomach rolled. Instinctively, she reached for her PALM, needing a suppressant to tamp her emotions, then flinched when all she touched was her own skin.
With no way to regulate her internal turmoil, she gasped each breath. Her fingernails dug into the arms of her seat as they veered sharply. The ship leveled out then banked in the opposite direction.
It seemed like they weaved in and out of the mines for an hour. Finally, the space between the mines grew wider, allowing the ship more room to maneuver. As her breaths slowed, something large glinted ahead. She squinted.
A space station flashed into existence. Her lips parted. At first it looked like an elongated version of one of the mines, but as they neared, longer extensions became visible, as well as voids near the center.
In a heartbeat, it was gone again. She blinked. Did she have some sort of brain injury from the attack? But no, it was still there. Faceted shielding fooled her eyes, concealing a station like none she’d seen before. A Tellusian Destroyer docked to the side of the dark, oblong shape, looking like a miniature toy—and those warships rivaled CORE Guardians in size.
The closer they flew, the more the bulk of the station blocked out the minefield. She gripped the arms of her seat tighter, her eyes scanning the ships and shuttles of every size entering and exiting docking bays. Larger vessels used docking ports like the Destroyer.
“What is this place?” she asked around the lump in her throat, her trepidation growing.
“Orion,” he said, then switched to that language she couldn’t understand. His comm buzzed in his ear, someone’s voice on the other end.
How did she not understand it? She was fluent in the main CORE languages and had a grasp of all the others. What dialect was he speaking?
The cockpit darkened. She leaned forward, looking upward as they flew beneath one of the station’s long arms. They entered a shaft, the black of the crisscrossed construction and the lights ahead the only things she could see. He stopped the ship, then they descended, surrounded by the metal composite of a chute. She squinted against the bright as they lowered into a docking bay.
Ships moved everywhere, coming and going, settling onto pads or lifting off. She peered through the side viewer, watching people in brown coveralls scurry beneath them. Tiny at first, they grew in size as they descended. The Raven landed with a thump. Maintenance workers disappeared under the ship.
When the warrior undid his buckle to rise to his feet, Nia reached for hers. A heavy hand settled on her shoulder, and she gasped, gaze flying to his.
“If you behave, I won’t bind you. Do you understand?”
Her nod was automatic.
Heart pounding and limbs made of liquid, she unclasped her buckle. The heat of his hand lingered on her collarbone underneath the fabric of her uniform. He slapped the control by the door, and it slid open to reveal the ramp already half-lowered, whining.
She followed him to the hatch and stiffened when he grasped her upper arm.
“This way.” He tugged her down the ramp.
She hated his hand on her, but resisted the urge to yank it away, knowing it would be futile. On the far side of the bay stood a line of people wearing black uniforms, medical officers from her station. Some cried, others had their arms wrapped around their bodies defensively. Armed Tellusians in blue uniforms with hefty guns patrolled the line. Bile rose in her throat along with the panic.
I can’t do it.She couldn’t just stand by, submissive, and be turned into a slave. There had to be a way out.
Someone screamed. A medical officer attacked a warrior. The line fragmented, people panicking, trying to get away. Pop. The blast of a laser weapon echoed. Someone else screamed. The warriors moved in some choreographed formation, subduing the captives with barked orders.
But the one who attacked first was on the ground, unmoving, a laser wound spanning his back. She reached for her PALM again, needing a suppressant, but felt more panic when it wasn’t there. Bile rose in her throat. Her legs collapsed. A strong arm caught her around her waist before she could fall, turning her away from the sight.
“Do not look, izar.”
Her fingers dug into the skin of his arm, and she shook her head, swallowing the wretched taste in her throat. She’d seen countless laser wounds in her triage bay. The gore didn’t bother her. Death was an every day occurrence in her triage bay.
It was the violence of it. And the loss of an innocent man, one who’d vowed to heal, not hurt others.
“You will not be harmed if you don’t resist.”
She wanted to resist—to kick and scream and tear this place apart. The strength of her emotions truly startled her. She pressed against his arm, needing him to let go before she puked. He got the message and set her on her feet.
A slight turn of her head, and she witnessed the dead man being dragged away by his feet. She fisted her hands, her breaths leaving her in gasps. The Tellusian stepped in her line of sight, blocking her view. Through her mess of her hair, she glared, willing him to justify the death, wanting to hate him more.
His face was stony mask. Brow furrowing, his eyes swept over her. He opened his mouth to speak when a shout jerked his gaze away.
“Mace!”
Her captor turned, his face relaxing at the appearance of a newcomer. I would rather not know his name. She didn’t want to humanize him.
A man with dark brown hair cut close to his scalp wove though the foot traffic in the bay. His navy blue sleeveless uniform showed off the tattoos wrapping around his upper arms. A gun was strapped to his thigh and he wore knives at his waist. A length of metal wrapped around his left forearm, tech embedded in its surface. She’d seen them on images of Tellusian warriors on the media reels.
As soon as they were close enough, both men grabbed hold of the other’s wrists before pulling together for hearty slaps on each other’s shoulders. She cringed at the crudity of it, the hitting, the skin-to-skin contact. No civil bowing.
“I thought you were dead,” the other man said once they’d broke apart. He wore a wide smile, eyes filled with relief.
Cool air swirled where her captor had held her. Free from his touch, she took a step away.
“It was a close thing,” Mace replied, his gaze darting to her.
The other man stiffened. “Going to processing?”
Her captor switched over to that other language. When they looked away from her, she took another step back. Heart pounding, she focused on a recently landed transport, its wide hatch humming open. A thick crowd disembarked, moving en masse between ships toward them. Nia flicked her eyes to the two warriors ignoring her and held her breath.
Closer the tide of passengers came, until she retreated inside the crowd, allowing it to swallow her. It pushed and pulled. I can do this. She could escape, steal a ship, become a stowaway, anything to get away from this place.
A clogged junction ahead had her heart beating an optimistic rhythm in her chest. If she reached it, there wouldn’t be a way to know which direction she’d taken. Freedom was so close. Just a few more meters.
Mace frowned when Grey stopped talking mid-sentence. “And…?”
Grey’s mouth upturned at the corner. “You know your captive ran away, right?”
“What?” Mace spun around and realized Grey was correct. He ran a jerky hand through his hair. “I told her to behave.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard all captives are agreeable and do exactly as you instruct.”
“Of course.” Mace shook his head as they joined the crush of the crowd. He was not cut out to be a warder. He’d lost his captive in the first five minutes on the station.
“You’re not going to call it, are you?” Grey asked.
Mace shook his head. He’d find her the old-fashioned way. He didn’t want to degrade her escape attempt. Didn’t want to scare and humiliate her further.
“We’ve got a runner!” Grey shouted.
Mace narrowed his eyes at him.
Grey shrugged. “Look, she’s right ahead. Easy.”
Everyone in the corridor had frozen at Grey’s words—everyone except Mace’s captive. The circle of bodies around her raised their arms, indicating her position. Mace could hear her hushed and frantic voice as they neared.
“No, no, don’t do that. Put your arms down. I just want to leave. Please, let me out. Oh, no.”
His captive tried to squeeze her way between the people without touching them, angling her body then backing up because they weren’t separating for her. Mace knew CORE citizens avoided contact with strangers as much as possible. Not a helpful phobia at the moment.
He broke through the circle of bodies.
She whirled around to confront him, her russet eyes flashing, a snarl on her lips. “You killed everyone.”
Mace reached for her upper arm, and she jerked away. Her eyes had gone wild as she searched the crowd.
“You act as if nothing happened,” she said it so quietly he had to strain to hear her, but her words were broken.
She fell to her knees before he could catch her, and dry heaved, deep, wracking sounds. His chest ached to hear it. What he’d done to her ate at him. What she still had to go through created a bitter taste in his mouth.
“All clear!” Grey shouted. The crowd resumed their frantic pace.
Still on her hands and knees, his captive looked at his friend with hate-filled eyes.
“Whoa,” Grey said, raising is hands in surrender.
“Do you have bindings on you?” Mace hated to do it, but if she tried to run again, she’d get herself shot.
Pressing his lips into a line, Grey reached into his pocket and passed him a thin strip of polymer.
Mace nodded his thanks. “Tell Cache I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Sending his captive one last, sympathetic glance, Grey tipped his head and merged with the flow of foot traffic.
Quickly, Mace grasped his captive by the hips and set her on her feet. Taking her two wrists in his hand, he wrapped the binding around her flesh, and pulled it tight, only leaving a finger width of space. If she struggled, it would only get tighter.
Her eyes spat fire at him, her jaw locked.
“Do you want to be shot by an enforcer?” he said in Common, keeping his low voice.
“Shoot me then. Get it over with.”
Letting out a frustrated breath, he tugged on her bound wrists, against the flow of traffic, toward processing.
Nia bent her head, avoiding the stares of the people around her. Misplaced shame wracked her body. She kept her gaze fixed to her bound hands and the fingers pulling her with insistence. The uselessness of trying to escape pressed on her.
Mace. The brutality of his name suited him, a sharp, blunt instrument of death.
They crossed the docking bay, the sound of their footsteps lost among the noise. The line of medical officers had shrunk, but the scent of weapons fire lingered. Two men, faces she didn’t know, waited beside two warriors. She took a shuddering breath as they were shuffled forward into a scanning area.
She watched, her breath caught in her throat, as a red light passed over the men one after the other. Then they were escorted through doors on the other side, disappearing from view.
It was her turn. Mace moved her between two columns of red lights. They pulsed over her body, then turned off. A sexless, disembodied voice announced, “Positive on a necklace.”
Her chest tightened, her bound hands flying to her sternum. My locket. She needed it if she was to be rescued.
A man in gray coat, a matching satchel over his shoulder, came toward her, his face a mask of grim determination under his white-blond hair. Panic clawed through her.
“No.” She pressed her bound hands against her breastbone, protecting the locket her mother had given her.
“If you don’t cede it willingly, we’ll take it by force,” the man said, features pinched as he jerked his head to the warriors near the entrance.
Mace stepped in front of her. “That won’t be necessary.” His naked back blocked her view. The air around them crackled. She held her breath, uncertain of what would happen if the warriors challenged him. Then, finally, Mace turned toward her.
His brow was furrowed, but his eyes were soft. “It needs to be scanned. If it checks out, it will be returned.”
But would they find something? Or was it scan-proof like her mother had insisted? She kept her hands where they were.
“I promise, izar.”
Promise.What was the word of a Tellusian? The two warriors behind him shifted their positions until they were on either side of her. Mace tossed them each a scowl. They hesitated, then stepped back.
Swallowing, Nia lowered her hands. He moved behind her and she closed her eyes. The hair at her nape stirred, his fingers handling the clasp. The chain skimmed against the bare skin of her throat.
When she opened her eyes, the blond man placed her necklace in what looked like a reclamation chamber inset in the bulkhead. Her heart lurched.
“It will be fine,” Mace asserted from behind her.
She shook her head, doubting his words. Already she missed its weight and pressed her bound hands to her sternum. The red light of the scanner pulsed over her body once more.
“Negative,” came the same monotone voice from overhead. “Please proceed.”
Mace’s hand settled on her shoulder.
“Commander,” the blond man stopped before them. “Would you like to see someone from medical before we carry on?”
“I’m fine,” Mace replied.
“He needs a blood transfusion and hydration,” Nia contradicted.
His fingers twitched. “I can deal with it later.”
The man lifted a brow looking between the two of them. “Very well. And your vambrace?”
Mace hesitated, then said, “Lost.”
“I’ll order you a new one.” Turning, he cast a glance over his shoulder. “This way.” He opened the door, revealing a long corridor.
Her feet wouldn’t move.
“This needs to happen,” Mace said, his voice rumbling through her. “I don’t want to force you, but I will if I have to.”