Queen of Swords (15 page)

Chapter Seventeen

The codes got them into Sanctus’s atmosphere with no questions asked. The stealth-mode wasn’t foolproof, since all anyone had to do was look up and see them, but the lack of alarms concerning their presence helped. It took less than an hour to set down on the island, but by that time Ophelia was so tense, she was practically vibrating. Despite her best intentions, her mind kept chanting two words, over and over again.

Boone’s baby
.

She was having Boone’s baby.

Once she’d accidentally admitted it to herself, there’d been no going back. There was too much evidence stacking up for her to hang onto denial. Ophelia may have felt the Lady’s presence on occasion, but she sure as hells never heard her goddess speak. Between that and the sudden paralyzing chill every time her intuition nudged her, and there was no other rational option. The only way to reach the level of
Tyche
was to become pregnant.

It didn’t matter that Ophelia had no intention of shacking up with him or marrying him or any other absurd notion of happily-ever-after. He couldn’t die. She’d be damned before she had to explain to her child that his or her father was too stupid to live, that he’d got caught by Sanctify when he wasn’t even supposed to be in this part of the universe.

“You ready, lady?”

“Shove it.” She didn’t glance at Gee, keeping her gaze trained on where the triplets sat across from her. Her entire body went cold with warning every time she looked at him lately, and if Ophelia had any say in it, she’d keep him right where she could see him.

“Now, lady, I know you have your titties in a twist over the Cap’n being taken—”

Ophelia turned, grabbing her knife from her boot and setting it gently against his throat. She sent a warning glance at the other men before giving Gee a little jab. “I’m not in the mood, Evarven. It would be best for everyone if you kept you Ladydamned mouth shut.”

It was as if everyone in the room held their breath, waiting to see if she’d finish this. He gulped, his throat pressing against her knife. Ophelia didn’t give Gee a centimeter and a thin trickle of clear fluid oozed from the cut. Guess Evarven didn’t bleed red.

The intercom crackled to life, making Gee jump. Ophelia had to jerk the blade back or risk slitting his throat. Jenny’s voice sang over the static, “We’re here.” The woman herself strode into the hub a few seconds later, pausing in the doorway. “Play nice with Gee. We need him.”

Ophelia sat back, wiping the blade on Gee’s pants before sheathing it in her boot. “I’m ready.”

“Good. Come along, boys. It’s time to play.”

They followed Jenny through the halls and down the hatch. Every second Ophelia spent on the ladder, she expected to hear weapons firing and people crying an alarm. Instead there was only silence. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she moved out of the way, taking her first look around.

Sanctus was truly beautiful, the distant trees lush and green on one side and the deep blue ocean on the other. Ophelia should feel something, finally setting foot on the ancestral land of her people, but all she could think of was the blood that had been shed in this place. There was nothing for her here.

Nothing except Boone.

Then she realized exactly where they were. In a damn shipyard. Ophelia turned to ask Jenny what in the hells she’d been thinking, but the other woman was already on her way to the squat building on the far side of the open space. Cursing under her breath, Ophelia followed, drawing the laser from her right hip. They were in enemy territory now, and nothing would save them if they screwed this up.

They passed three of the huge white warships Sanctify was so fond of. Ophelia mentally tallied the visible weapons they sported, not liking what she came up with. There were the traditional lasers, four cannons a piece, and…

She stopped walking, unable to tear her eyes from the antimatter gun. “What in the Lady’s name have they done to my ship?” The monsters had painted it white, had turned it into the very symbol of everything she fought against.

One of the triplets—Hadriel, the cocky one—paused next to her and raised an eyebrow in question.

She pointed, thinking fast. “We need that ship.” They didn’t have enough people to crew both
Psyche
and
The Dutchman
, but she was loath to leave it behind. “Jenny said you can pilot. She better not be wrong.”

She rattled off the codes Mac had integrated into each of their ships, ensuring they could always take back control. The man really was a genius. “I need you to get her running. Now.” She held up a hand when he started to sign. “Jenny already told me you can talk so don’t try those bullshit games with me. Go.”

“As you wish.” His voice was rusty with misuse. Hadriel made a face, but he started for
The Dutchman
without more questions. Thank the Lady. She didn’t have time to argue with a man who may or may not be mute.

Ophelia turned back to the building and spit out a few choice words. While they’d taken five seconds to examine their surroundings for threats, Jenny charged on, heedless of anything but saving her brother. Even as Ophelia watched, she threw open the main doors and shot two men lounging behind the main console before they had a chance to react. Damn, she was even better with a gun than she was with a knife.

Ophelia sprinted after her. “Jenny, stop.”

Jenny ignored her, striding down the hallway as Ophelia ran through the front door. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned in time to shoot a man coming through a side door. The shot clipped him in the shoulder—she’d been aiming for his head—but it was enough. He shuddered and fell, the smell of burnt meat tainting the air. Ophelia gagged, but Jenny was going to get killed if she didn’t keep up. So much for the plan.

“Jenny,” Ophelia whispered. “Wait for us.” She glanced over her shoulder at the remaining two triplets. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

Jenny—once again—ignored her, disappearing around the corner. Ophelia promised herself she’d beat the crap out of the other woman as soon as this was over. She swung around the corner, laser raised, in time to see Jenny pause in front of a split in the hall.

The only sound in the hallway was the harsh breathing of the two remaining triplets. A mad grin from Jenny sent dread spiraling through Ophelia’s stomach. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “What took you so long?”

Ophelia prayed for patience. “Don’t ever do that again or I’ll shoot you myself. How am I going to explain to my baby that their auntie was just as stupid and suicidal as their father?” And mother, if they were going to be perfectly honest. There was no other explanation for her being in this idiotic situation. The blind leading the blind and all that.

Jenny’s eyes lost their cold fury and nearly bugged out of her head. “
Baby
? I was joking earlier.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m not joking now. Shadrach, you’re with me.” Ophelia headed down the right fork, ignoring Jenny’s sputtering. Hopefully the information would be enough to keep her from rushing into danger without thinking first. “Jenny…be careful.”

“You know me, careful like a stampede.” She grinned and turned away, disappearing down the hallway and around a corner.

Ophelia almost laughed at the thought. Be careful, indeed. They were in the very heart of Sanctify’s territory—if that wasn’t dangerous, she didn’t know what was. Her baby was going to inherit stupidity from both sides.

Strange how she could think the word without cringing now.

The hallway narrowed and sloped steadily downward, turning several times but never branching off. Ophelia shuddered. Despite the pristine white walls, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being buried alive. They should have seen someone by now, or someone should have raised an alarm. Something.

There was another branch, one side going down steps and disappearing into darkness and the other around a blind corner. Ophelia glanced from one to the other. “What do you think?”

Shadrach cleared his throat and pointed to the hallway.

Yeah, it was probably best to clear the area before moving downward. Without another word, she went left, sliding around the corner and keeping low. Less than fifteen meters away, a guard leaned back in a chair, his eyes closed. Napping on the job. Shadrach shot him, barely waiting until he spasmed to the floor before moving down the hall, Ophelia dogging his heels. Now was not the time to be lax—there could be reinforcements coming at any moment. Hells, even if there weren’t, there were at least twenty other men wandering around this building somewhere.

Four doors were situated at the end of the hall, two in each wall. Ophelia took in the control boards on each wall. Cells.

Boone.

The need to see him, to know he was okay, hit so hard she staggered. Ophelia shook it off—this was no time for weakness—and moved to the control board on the right. There was no way of telling who was in the cells unless she opened them. After a quick examination, she found the button to open each door. She paused, her hand over the first one. It would be smarter to do this one at a time. Who knew what kind of people Sanctify had holed up here? Victims, for sure, but that didn’t mean they were harmless.

Taking a deep breath and readjusting her grip on her laser, she pushed the button. As soon as the door slid open, a huge furry shape barreled into her. Ophelia bit back a scream as she dodged a nasty set of claws, and shoved her laser into its throat. “Do not move.” She hoped to hells this thing understood Common.

It rumbled, a distinctly masculine sound. “I was not aware Sanctify employed females. How progressive of them.”

All at once she realized exactly what she’d been about to kill. Hells, she would have figured it out sooner if he hadn’t insisted on attacking her. “You’re a Beshmaiite.”

His weight was gone almost as quickly as it had come. “How do you know that name?”

Now that she could see all of him, Ophelia noted his distinctly catlike features and the pale brindle coloring that was really quite pretty.
He
was pretty if you ignored the teeth large enough to rip out a human’s throat and the retractable claws nearly as long as her fingers. She realized she was staring and cleared her throat. “My great-grandfather was Jeremiah.”

Instantly all threat was gone from his posture. He made a deep coughing sound that might have been a laugh. “He was a good friend to our people, that Diviner…which would make you a Diviner as well.” He cocked his head to the side. “Perhaps the same one Boone can’t shut up about?”

“I don’t know anything about that.” She beat down a surge of warmth threatening to spread through her body, and took his offered hand, letting him pull her to her feet.

“No, I don’t suppose you do.” The Beshmaiite inhaled deeply and froze, the longish hair running over his skull and along his spine standing at attention. “You’re pregnant.”

Ophelia choked. Oh Lady, this was just what she needed. Hearing those words aloud sent a sharp pain straight to her heart, twisting it viciously. Great-grandpa once told her you could never fool a Beshmaiite’s nose. There was no more room to doubt her instincts. She was pregnant. Really, truly pregnant.

“I suppose congratulations are in order.” He coughed—laughed?—again. Before she could say anything, the Beshmaiite bounded to the door. “We have to hurry.”

He hit the button to open all the doors and five human men rushed into the halls. A dark-skinned man clapped Shadrach on his shoulder hard enough to make the triplet stagger. “Hadriel, man, haven’t seen you in ages.”

Ophelia considered correcting him, but Shadrach only flipped him off.

“Can’t blame me for the mistake.” The dark man shrugged, completely unrepentant. “So, we staging a jailbreak or what?”

Ophelia ignored him and walked to each door to check the room, panic rising when she didn’t find Boone in any of them. “Where is he?”

The Beshmaiite didn’t ask which “he” she was talking about. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since we were taken off the ship.”

Locking her fear into a little box and shoving it away, Ophelia took a deep breath. “We have to keep looking.” She handed her back-up laser to the now-clawless Beshmaiite. He checked the charge and flipped the safety off, the ease of his movements assuring her he was familiar with the weapon. Thank the Lady. Papa had ensured she knew her way around lasers, even though he despaired at her ability to hit anything smaller than a Bolkerian. “There are stairs back this way.”

The Beshmaiite moved smoothly in front of her when she turned to walk back down the hall. “Forgive me, Diviner, but I’m going first. Boone would skin me alive if I let something happen to you.” To the child she was carrying.
Boone’s child
.

The unspoken words hung between them as Ophelia’s pride battled with the desire to protect the life growing inside her at all costs. She finally took a step back. “Fine. Lead on.”

Shadrach handed over his extra weapons and, between the two of them and the dead member of Sanctify, that left most of Boone’s crew armed. They moved swiftly, making it to the stairs just as alarms blazed, the flashing red lights making the hall look like it was bathed in blood. Ophelia exchanged a look with the Beshmaiite. She turned to the five men behind her. “You two, head back to
Psyche
. She needs to be ready to take off. Now. And you and you help Hadriel get the
Dutchman
running so we have a chance to get off this Ladyforsaken planet.” They would need the antimatter gun, and she didn’t trust anyone else on her ship.