Final Protocol Page 5

  My vision slowly cleared enough that I could make out the code. Aw, no. Not this.

  Hitting the tron system I rarely used, I said, “Clarify the outlying vessel.”

  A polite, computer-generated voice said, “Interplanetary sec. Governing personnel likely onboard, considering the number of escorts. Within our flight plan within three stan-hours. Within scanning range in one hour. Please advise.”

  Please advise?

  “Get me the fuck out of here.”

  Chapter Five

  They knew I was there.

  Sons of bitches.

  I don’t know anything about my lineage, but to my knowledge, I was just the everyday, average human assassin. For all I knew, though, I had something else in my bloodline—either the weaker psychic skill common to some humans or the very diluted blood of one of the psy races, possibly a few generations back.

  I wasn’t psychic in the purest sense of the word, but I was sensitive. If there was a psychic probe going on, I’d feel it. It was how I’d managed to avoid capture more than once.

  As I cut through space, my dark-speeder tearing up the distance between me and Hsain, the starship stayed far too close.

  Starships didn’t sustain those speeds unless absolutely necessary. This one had been built for it, but maintaining it took a massive amount of energy. Why would they follow?

  My body felt too tired and my head ached, the precursors to space sickness, and if I didn’t get some rest, some nutrition in my body, it was only going to get worse. It would just have to get worse and I’d have to deal with it, because I couldn’t risk sleep with a starship so close on my backtrail.

  I checked the shields around me once more.

  They were holding.

  I checked the distance to Hsain.

  I’d land within a day.

  My gut twisted in a big, hard knot. Keep this pace for another day?

  I spent hours poring over reports, only surfacing to check the systems, look in on the starship. I’d altered my flight path slightly, choosing one that would take me through a meteor belt as I neared the planet. I’d have to slow down and handle the controls myself, but no starship pilot was going to fly a ship full of bureaucrats through a pile of rocks. It was too risky. One or two bad hits and that starship would be stuck on Hsain until their mechanics had the vessel cleared for takeoff.

  This way, at least, I’d be able to land without them being around.

  As I drew nearer and nearer to the point where our flight paths would diverge, I finally managed to find just who might be on that starship, and it was enough to make me want to pound my head.

  It wasn’t easy to access the information. Accessing government rosters was never particularly simple, but a contact of mine had shown me a few back doors in exchange for a favor. I’d had to kill the man who held control over the man’s gambling debts. Normally, I let others find their own way out of that kind of mess. People dig their holes, they had to find a way out.

  But instead of going after my contact, he’d gone after the man’s family, sending home pieces of his mate’s body to taunt him. First her left ear, then the tip of her finger.

  I didn’t believe in using others to settle debts.

  I’d done the job, happily.

  The first thing I’d done was take the target’s ear. Then every last finger—actually, he had claws, but it was still the same premise. He was crying and begging for mercy by the time I slid my knife between his ribs. I would have taken his penis, but his kind had a protective sheath and there was no way it would emerge and I didn’t want to waste the time carving him up.

  It had been a rewarding job, and it had left me with useful information. Now as I studied the schematics for the flight plan, I tapped my lip with my finger and brooded. No names were listed. Passengers were identified by number. I couldn’t tell the species, the age, the gender, anything. But the Galactic Embassy had sent a convoy out, and unless somebody was very, very good at creating ships that were identical to the ones the Embassy used, that was the one on my backtrail.

  The comm panel made a soft, low hum, followed by the melodic voice.

  “Adjustments were made to flight plan. Shall I continue?”

  “No. I’ll take over from here.”

  “Be advised, there is a meteor belt. It is recommended you continue on your current flight plan.”

  “I recommend you kiss my ass.”

  “Recommendation received…cannot comply. Please advise again.”

  Tron systems had no sense of humor. It was sad, really. Moving away from the table, I paused at the nutrition station, grabbing a prefilled packet of the nutrigel that served as my meal for the duration of the flight. Protein, calories, vitamins and nutrition, tailored to my metabolism and taste, it filled the hole in my belly and provided me with everything I needed until the next mealtime. But it wasn’t like sitting at a table with a bowl of stew, a hunk of fresh bread and a chilly server of ani cider.

  Of course, if I finished this job and made it back to face Gold again, I wouldn’t be tasting ani cider again. It was unique to the planet, made from the fruit of the ani tree, grown only in the warm, wet rainforests of the planet’s southeastern region. That was acceptable. If I killed Gold and made it offplanet, I’d settle for never having that cold, tart taste glide down my throat.

  With the cool tang of the gel lingering on the back of my tongue, I settled behind the controls and shifted from auto to manual. Already the false bump of energy was vibrating through me and my own senses were rocketing into high gear. I slid my hand across the panel and adjusted the trajectory a few minute degrees. As I did so, I watched the path of the starship. How long would they continue to follow?

  I made it through the meteor belt without my enigmatic escort. They’d given up a long time ago. Now I was dealing with entering a hostile atmosphere without being detected, in a compromised speeder.

  The deflectors had taken most of the damage caused by traveling through a bunch of space rocks, but one of my engines had been hit. I had the supplies to fix it and get me to one of the lunar layover stations in the next systems, assuming I made it off Hsain, if I could land.

  Gritty-eyed from too much time awake, jumpy from the adrenaline rush, I took the dark-speeder in on not much more than a wish and prayer, gliding in with a convoy of scout ships and separating once we’d cleared the security sweepers.

  I didn’t feel like I even breathed until I’d cleared the city.

  I didn’t let myself relax until I touched down, miles away from anything that looked remotely populated.

  Then, as the adrenaline drained out of me, I went to stand.

  That was when the space sickness that had been hovering around me hit.

  It hit hard.

  Somehow, guided by instinct and self-preservation, I activated the cloaking mechanisms that protected the speeder. I had vague memories of trying to rise, trying to make it to the lone bed. The floor came rushing up. There was a bright, vivid pain. Then—darkness.

  “We can’t run. He’ll find us. I know too much about him. He’ll find us and he’ll take his anger out on you.”

  Gentle hands cupped her face and she found herself staring into warm, jade-green eyes. She had to tilt her head back to keep the connection. She wasn’t a small woman, but he dwarfed her. He almost made her feel delicate.

  He didn’t treat her as something delicate though.

  His thumb stroked across her lower lip. “We run, and maybe die, or stay here as his toys. He’ll use me, me estril. He’ll do to others what he did to us. I cannot bear it. Can you?”

  My star. She closed her eyes at the sound of the name he used for her. Not the name she’d been given by her keeper, but a name he’d chosen for her.

  She was his star and he was her heart.

  Laying a hand on his chest, she leaned in.
>
  “I cannot. But…” She swallowed. “I’m afraid.”

  “Yes. So I am.” Warm arms came around her.

  Sinking into his embrace, she closed her eyes. She was afraid, yes.

  But in that moment, she was warm and happy and loved.

  If only it could last.

  I was roasting alive.

  I could all but feel my skin cooking, yet I clung to the dream with desperation.

  “Warning…”

  The polite, electronic voice prodded me and the dream fell around me in shatters. Already, the memory of it was gone, although the odd twist in my chest remained. It had been…a good dream.

  Behind my eyes, a weird, reddish light glowed. I panted, while my lungs screamed for air and sweat bloomed along my skin.

  It was hot. Too hot.

  A warning buzz sounded in the air.

  “Warning. Cabin temperature is dangerously high. Regulating systems were damaged in landing. Please advise.”

  A moment of silence and then the beeping started again, followed by that low, melodic voice.

  “Cabin temperature is dangerously high. Regulating systems were damaged in landing. Please advise.”

  If I’d had a blaster at my hip, I might have just laid that entire system to ruin.

  Instead, I opened my mouth, managed to croak, “Silence alarm. I’ll deal with it in a minute.”

  Or maybe a thousand of them.

  It took at least ten to roll onto my belly, another four or five to get my hands and knees under me. Once I managed that, I huddled there, shivering, shaking, while nausea rolled through me, having its merry way. Eventually, I got the upper hand, if you can call it that. I wasn’t going to puke. That was a victory.

  On the other hand, a lingering headache pulsed behind my eyes and I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d be willing to claw my eyes out to make it stop.

  “Activate emergency medical,” I said, my mouth feeling like it had been stuffed with cotton.

  “Should I send out for assistance?”

  “No.” Fuck, no. That was why I’d put the medical system on standby before we’d even come close to this system. I’d rather die than reach out to them for help. Some things really were worse than death. “Medical droid. Activate.”

  There was a faint hum, and then not even a few heartbeats passed before a miniature, nearly humanoid form was in front of me. It looked closed to human with its old, wizened face and its small, delicate hands. I’d always thought they were creepy, but others thought they were comforting.

  Others were crazy.

  It cocked its face in a mimicry of human expression. “How may I be of assistance?”

  “Diagnose. Treat. Stabilize. I think it’s space sickness.”

  It nodded and I felt the warmth of a laser as it scanned me. A few seconds later, I hissed as a pressure syringe injected me with some concoction of hormones, vitamins, mood stabilizers and other shit. As the headache eased, I decided there was a painkiller in the mix too.

  The droid started to rattle off the ingredients and I grimaced when it went on to list all of the ones I’d suspected, plus a few others, including a nutrient booster, an anti-emetic and antibiotics. It made sense—the travel depressed the immune system, and going into an unfamiliar environment made you easy prey for any number of diseases. Normally, I didn’t get quite such a cocktail though.

  “What’s the deal?” I asked as it went to lean forward and check my eyes.

  It ignored me as it focused on my eyes. The tron eye flashed as it scanned me, the backs of my retinas. I couldn’t deny the sensation that it saw deeper in me than anything—living or animated—had a right to.

  “You are overheated and your body temperature is abnormally high. You suffer from nightmares. Phobias. Lack of sleep,” it said, detailing a list of things I already knew. I didn’t need others to know. Even something that wasn’t alive.

  Curling my lip, I said, “Be sure to erase that information from your memory bank.”

  “All medical information is confidential.” It paused, cocking its head. “DNA structure is—”

  The alarm blared once more.

  “Life-forms detected.”

  Shoving to my feet, I nudged the droid. “That’s enough. Delete all medical data now.”

  “The medical workup isn’t complete. You should take sleep enhancers. You will start to suffer effects of sleep deprivation without proper rest. You are undernourished.”

  “I’ll take that under consideration. Abort program. Delete all medical data and shut down.”

  Its face went blank as it complied.

  My head no longer pulsed and throbbed and I didn’t feel like I was going to hurl my guts up with every passing second. It took an effort, though, to turn away and walk to the view port. Even more of an effort to concentrate on the data feed coming at me. “Identify life-forms,” I said.

  “Two males. DNA scans show them to be indigenous to Hsain. They are moving on a route to intercept a caravan that is traveling east. The caravan appears to carry spices and fabrics. Further scans show bodies hidden within transport vehicles.”

  My gut twisted.

  “Rebels,” I murmured.

  Any planet where slavery was the norm had those who’d fight for freedom.

  Hsain was likely no different.

  Sadly, the oppressors here had the upper hand, and they’d had it for a very long time.

  “Probability of 93.1 percent that the caravan belongs to the rebel movement. Odds of survival slim if they are discovered. Concealed bodies are female, DNA scans show them to be from Nir.”

  Scowling, I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  “If I leave now, can I get there before the Hsainiens do?”

  There was a brief pause. “Probability that you will arrive before the Hsainiens is 98.7 percent.”

  I slicked my tongue across my lips. That was…acceptable. “Doable. Can I intervene and survive?”

  This time there was a lengthier pause and I almost started to explain. A computer, no matter how advanced, would never be able to be human. But finally, it processed what I was asking. “A rescue attempt is unadvised. Chance of survival 84.1 percent, but the chance of success 42.6 percent.”

  I made a face. “So the odds aren’t in my favor.”

  “A rescue attempt is unadvised—”

  “I got that, thanks.”

  I turned away and headed to the storage, hoping the gear had come through intact. I’d never been one to make safe wagers anyway.

  “Activate the repair drones,” I said over my shoulder. “Lock all travel logs and any other incriminating material to my voice print and my security codes alone. If there is any attempt to crack them, destroy all data.”

  “So noted.”

  Hsain was hot.

  Hot like an ugly, sweaty bitch from the Ylori deserts hot, with its four suns and nonexistent nights.

  Sweat trickled down my back, and the headache that had all but disappeared was now whispering at the back of my skull. It wouldn’t take much for it to return in full, shining glory.

  I should take a few more hours to rest. I should take a few hours to plan, evaluate.

  I should—

  Stop.

  The instinct slithered up from a place inside me that I barely understood, but I never questioned it.

  Freezing where I stood, I twisted my head around. I was behind one of the monolithic litir trees, bizarre, twisted creations that looked more like a skeletal, spindly spider with its legs reaching toward the sky, while the body—and maybe the head—was planted in the ground. Other desert planets in neighboring systems had similar vegetation—the trunk and strange branches were capable of storing more water and they also provided for shelter—but I had images of those branches creeping down, wrapping around
me, tucking me inside one of those cavernous cracks that ridged the trunk. I’d be swallowed alive there, eaten whole.

  Breaths came slow and shallow as I waited. As I listened. Minutes passed. Sweat stung my eyes, soaked my shirt. My hands cramped from holding my weapon at the ready, and the muscles in my thighs practically trembled from being trapped in that position. But I didn’t move.

  Time dragged by, and just when I thought I’d go mad, I heard it.

  Voices, far off.

  They rose. A panicked scream.

  Tapping the device clipped to my ear, I waited for it to relay the words and translate. My blood chilled.

  Make it to the litir field. We can—

  Another scream.

  I ran along the cover of the trees and took a position, staring down the sweeping sand dunes.

  “Give me a head count,” I ordered, my voice hardly more than a whisper.

  The words were fed into my ear. “DNA scans reveal ten Hsainiens and counting. All armed. Outgoing encrypted message intercepted. They’ve notified others of their discovery. Reinforcements expected within sixty minutes. Embassy troops en route—”

  My brain clattered to a stop. “Embassy?”

  “Detachment from embassy starship en route. Initial scan shows armed guards.”

  “What are they doing?”

  “Although inconclusive, it is probable that the detachment is en route to provide support to the caravan. The embassy is against slavery in all its forms.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Tell that to the monster who owns me.

  I reached for my blaster and continued to inch my way along the litir field. “Engage cloaking.”

  “Engaged.”

  I had an excellent view of the skirmish that wasn’t.

  The Hsainiens arrived from the west just as the embassy detachment arrived from the southwest. I was situated along the northern perimeter, hidden behind the cloaking shields and watching, wondering if I’d be able to save anybody if this went bad, wondering if I should even try.

  I would. I already knew I would, because my skin still crawled thinking of that dream I’d had, thrown away into a dark pit, left there until somebody came to pull me out. Not to freedom, but into a lifetime of slavery, a lifetime of brutality. A lifetime of suffering.