Starlaw (19 page)

Within the protective confines of its superior hull, they stood a chance against any weaponry the vamphieres' vessel might unleash. They must
not
attempt a rescue. That his mind wandered to that possibility resulted from either his need to be rid of the pain, or his knowledge of his crew's loyalty. Despite other mistakes in his personal life, engendering their loyalty was one thing he'd done right.

“What will you do with the commander now?” Char softly asked in a dejected tone of voice.

“Take Starlaw away,” Garron ordered as he nodded toward the Gloxynian and his comrades. “It will do me good to watch him suffer.”

Darius was aware of being lifted. The foul stench of vamphieres told him who carried his limp frame. The darkness he'd so valiantly fought now claimed him.

• • •

Laurel boldly stepped onto the bridge. Since red alert lights had come on all over the ship, and she couldn't find either Gemma or Barst, she headed to the bridge. Gazing around, she saw that most if not all the crew was there. With one very large, tanned exception.

Scanning bodies and faces, she couldn't see Darius Starlaw.

Since the incident involving Goll's stasis chamber, three months ago, the dauntless commander and she hadn't seen that much of each another. Encounters were limited to passageway conversations of limited and cordial length and quality. She'd dined with Gemma and Barst or alone in her quarters, using computer research time to advantage.

But in those brief passageway encounters with Darius, she'd come to learn he wasn't the taciturn, harsh individual she'd once believed. In fact, he'd become much friendlier, much more approachable. There were several encounters, during times when her heart ached, when she'd wanted to ask how he'd survived the deaths in his life. The question would have only been posed as seeking advice concerning her personal losses. But on every occasion she'd found a way to tactfully word her queries, doing so had always seemed inappropriate. Especially since she'd have to reveal an utter lack of experience in such matters as loss. A pampered upbringing shielded her from strife. In her job as a cop, she'd yet to witness the loss of brethren. But when it
had
happened, it had been massively tragic. She'd not only lost her best friend and partner, but her shift mates and her entire world. How did one deal with it? How had he gone on after the loss of his wife and little girl?

She'd kept her feelings and thoughts to herself. She'd kept her distance from the commander of the
Titan,
which resulted in no more trouble. It had also resulted in no opportunity for physical contact. And that, she found, left her feeling somehow starved.

When he'd held her and kissed her, time stopped. All anger and pain fled, if only briefly. She'd felt needed and trusted. The contact was the most riveting of her life, and she wasn't without experience in such matters.

All other men aside, Darius Starlaw was the most enigmatic yet breathtakingly virile male she'd ever met. If she'd been angered to the point of hatred before, the other side of that coin now applied. During that almost sacred contact of their kiss, the softness of his breath on her skin, the gentle way he'd caressed her, and the heat of his lips pressed to hers were the only things in existence. And though she wanted more, she knew why he kept his distance even as she'd kept hers.

Whatever had happened between them, that night—whatever caused the significant change between them—they needed time to sort it out. He was the superior officer on a spaceship commanding many; all their lives were in his hands. She daren't attempt to move closer to the man, physically or spiritually, until the time was right. They'd both know when that was. But the feelings were still there and had increased. She'd seen it in the way he looked at her, heard it in his voice when he'd spoken softly and without the previous rancor. She knew it in the very air around them. Instinct any law enforcer possessed didn't go amiss. They were attracted to each other and were biding their time. For her part, she had to wait until they could truly be alone and without duties or her insecurities getting in the way. But once they
were
finally alone—and there was no crew, no duty, and no trial ahead—she meant to find out the deepest secrets of a spaceman who was quickly becoming the center of her life. She no longer feared him. With each passing day a growing yearning took the place of any fear at all. And now, something about his absence signaled trouble that frightened her on his behalf.

Tonight, anxiety concerning some unknown circumstance—along with the alarms signaling it—drove her from the serenity of her quarters and into the company of others. Whatever was happening, it involved every man and woman aboard. This included the only person from Earth.

“What's happened?” she asked one of the crewmembers as she searched for familiar faces.

When a gray, tentacled being with gill slits might have answered, Gemma came into view, pushing through the crowds to get to the bridge hatch where Laurel stood.

“Gemma … what the hell is going on?” Laurel asked when her new friend was close enough to query.

“Vamphieres. They took Darius hostage during what was supposed to be a diplomatic meeting,” Gemma responded, anxiety causing her to use her superior's given name. “There are others being held. Everyone will die if we don't release Goll.”

“If you let them have your prisoner it won't make any difference. From what I saw the night my friends were killed, vamphieres aren't partial to mercy,” Laurel insisted. “Why doesn't someone arm a rescue team and go after the commander?”

Gemma put her hands on her hips and sighed in frustration. “That's just it … Barst was given strict orders to keep every crewmember aboard. When an Arjus official asked to see him, Darius knew he might be walking into a trap and planned for it. He's made himself expendable.”

Laurel considered the news then put one hand on Gemma's shoulder. “The commander gave orders for every crewman to stay aboard? Are you sure about that?”

Gemma simply nodded then absently turned to look at the large holographic view screen—now darkened—mounted on the bulkhead, opposite the commander's chair. It was as if she hoped there'd be some transmission from her superior, a transmission that likely wouldn't ever come if someone didn't do something right away.

“He's being tortured, Laurel. We saw it—”

The look on Gemma's face as well as the faces of others was telling. They believed their commander would die excruciatingly. “Get Barst!” Laurel demanded. “He's still second-in-command. I need to speak to him …
now
!”

Gemma's head snapped back in her direction. “Why?”

“
Please
… just do it. I don't think we have much time.”

• • •

The black uniform that comprised Laurel's only choice of clothing was gone. In its place she now wore borrowed brown leather pants, soft high boots in a matching shade, and a green leather jerkin with a white blouse beneath it. It was clothing that looked very similar to what was being worn by the townspeople milling around in the marketplace.

To further blend in, she wore her hair loose like other women. No one seemed to notice her as she moved toward the most prominent stone structure in town.

As she'd been told, the large gray stone structure—appearing more like a castle than any home—was where Council Char lived. It was also the place from which Darius had last been traced.

When she'd conveyed her quick plan to Barst and Gemma, they'd resisted—as did all of the bridge crew. But she'd severely reminded them of her status as a civilian and as a law enforcer with experience in her own right. She'd persisted, and with such virulent passion, that they'd given in. Moreover, there simply wasn't any other choice.

As to her own feelings, she drove out thoughts of what Darius must be going through at the hands of vamphiere torturers. She had to shove down what could be one more death she'd have to endure, and one that was now so precious to her that she couldn't imagine going through life on another world—at least not without seeing his face from time-to-time or hearing the gentle timbre of his voice. Of late, that voice was so caring during even the briefest of encounters. Whatever that distant horizon brought, he was part of it. He couldn't die now.

Everything was conflicted and confusing. But she knew another good man couldn't die. Not if she could stop it. She couldn't help Cory or her other friends, but she could damned sure do something now. In the end, the crew had seen that her plan might work; it was all they had, there was no time left to plot anything better.

Now, she was alone on the alien world of Arjus and the plan was enacted. Somehow, she wasn't afraid but excited and worried for Darius's sake. Still, she drove one thought in her head above all others.

Get the job done.

As she moved, the city to her appeared positively medieval. The exception in the Merlin-era scenario was the appearance of so many creatures of various shades, heights, and builds. Many of the denizens had multiple eyes and limbs. Some of the appendages were of a number and size that was startling. But as she moved among them, she understood every word being said. Gossip about someone's husband sleeping with someone else's wife, a bad deal or the state of politics, reminded her of Earth. She tamped down a wave of utter homesickness and kept to the task at hand. It took everything she had to paste on what she hoped was her best nonchalant expression. She moved from one venue to the next as if she were examining sales goods.

A credit to her acting—or to her utter unimportance on this planet—most of the traders and market people had their own business to mind.

Without being questioned, Laurel strolled from one place to the next and finally ducked into an alley to check her bearings.

On the chance Darius was no longer in the council leader's residence the pocket-sized device Barst provided would lead her to the commander. No matter where he was, its vibrating speed was supposed to increase as she came nearer to Darius. The small black box, barely the size of a deck of cards, was supposed to be covert enough to escape electronic detection, but advanced enough to react to some transmitter Darius concealed on his body. All this was assuming Darius's device hadn't been located and disabled.

There were so many things that could go wrong. For starters, the enemy should have known some sort of tracking device would be installed on the
Titan
's commanding officer. If that were the case, she could be walking into a trap. Darius, along with the other hostages, might already be dead.

Laurel tried not to think about that possibility. She simply kept moving and forced herself to assume all was going as planned.

As she moved northward in the alley, her device indicated she was very close. The vibrations from her receiver were faster and stronger. She was at the back entrance to Council Char's residence. Darius, or his tracking device, was still inside.

She leaned against a wall, pretending to straighten her jerkin. There were no guards at the rear, ground entrance. But no one was leaving, either. Anyone looking her way shouldn't believe she was up to anything.

She took a deep breath and walked toward the arched wooden doors. The laser weapon in her tall right boot was ready if she needed it. She prayed there'd be no devices inside that might indicate she'd entered and was armed. Barst had given her a tiny deactivation cube in that event. But as she saw it, if vamphieres were present and they were alerted to her presence, she'd be set upon before any piece of equipment could silence an alarm.

She put out one hand, then took a deep breath to stop shaking. As she pushed down on the first, old-fashioned latch she'd seen since leaving Earth, elation filled her. The servants' door—as schematics perused aboard the
Titan
indicated—was unlocked. She glided inside and found herself in a darkened foyer. No one was near.

It took time, but rushing now wasn't going to help matters. Clearly, the vamphieres and the so-called wizard Barst told her about were nowhere in sight. Neither were the employees. She guessed they were all being held with the other hostages, in some room away from any access point. Sad for them, this made any escape attempt very difficult.

With such enhanced powers as vamphieres possessed, they obviously believed themselves superior. Only three had been seen in the holo images transmitted to the
Titan
, but there could be more. But
if
three was all Garron brought with him, so few could still do a hell of a lot of damage. She'd seen the carnage wrought by one.

Taking great care, Laurel slowly walked down a hallway past a huge, unbelievably equipped kitchen. There was no time to study alien cooking apparatus; the tracking device in her left hip pocket vibrated even faster.

The sound of voices made her stop and move behind a large, white floor planter bearing a tall purple plant with orange blossoms. Armed vamphieres strode by her location. Her hopes for only three were dashed.

She sent up a silent prayer for their not having advanced senses legend attributed to mythic Earth vampires. But as the cadre moved by and took no notice of her in her hidden niche, she took heart. It might be that there were too many
other
humanoids near to discern her presence. For whatever reason, she was still alive and still undetected.

Once again, the vibrating functions on her tracer silently whirred harder as she moved from her hidden location to the left. If Darius's tracker had been located by his enemies, all this was for nothing. But she had to try.

With her heart pounding so loud she was sure someone would hear, she moved on.

Darius woke slowly. The pounding in his head subsided only slightly as time passed. He heard voices around him long before his eyes focused in the torch-lit room. Typical of many old-style residences, Char evidently preferred the ambiance provided by antiquated lighting. Without the harsh glare of modern fixtures, the lower light actually helped him concentrate.