The Space Colonel's Woman (Dragonus Chronicles Book 1) (14 page)

Chapter 13

Colonel Archer had been asked to host a State Dinner in honor of the dignitaries who had arrived from Earth, for a week-long inspection of Phoenix City’s operations.  Attending would be the dignitaries and their entourage, Colonel Archer, Mark and Julia, Anora - in her official capacity as Queen of the Zefeiran people - with Hayden as her escort, representatives from all departments, and every leader of the Dragonus worlds Phoenix traded, or had alliances with.  It was a big deal.  Nothing like it had been held since the Zydonic Age.  The gathering of such distinguished attendees would be marked down in the histories of both Dragonus and Milky Way galaxies, with much pomp and flourish as Fate’s calligrapher could muster.  A sumptuous affair, even if the conversation would lean toward politics.

The part Julia had been looking forward to since Mark had told her about the event, was meeting all the guests from other worlds.  What would they wear?  How would she understand them?  And what would they make of the menu?  Technically she had more in common with the off-worlders than with the dignitaries from Mark’s Earth, she was an alien too.

Julia was excited and nervous as she smoothed the imaginary wrinkles from the front of her deep purple evening gown, with its gold embroidered empire line.  She had managed to tame her fiery tresses atop her head and the chunky gold earrings matched the Zefeiran armlets Anora had loaned her for the occasion.  It had been a long time since she’d had an excuse to wear anything other than jeans and boots, and the strappy gold heels took a bit of getting used to. 

Mark hadn’t seen her yet.  He was under orders to help Colonel Archer schmooze the VIPs, and she was to meet him in the grand ballroom of Phoenix City’s central building.  It had been all hands on deck to help with the decorating.  A u-shaped banquet table had been assembled from Mess hall tables hidden beneath white floor-length cloths, and decorated with blue candles in crystal holders.  The botanists had been tasked with vouching for the huge arrangements of red and white blooms and over-sized exotic foliage that adorned every horizontal surface.  It wouldn’t do for a guest to be harmed by a lack of attention to detail.  As a final touch each world had sent a flag ahead and they hung like ribbons from a maypole.  A myriad of colors, shapes, and sizes strung as high as ladders would allow.

When the power went out Julia was taking the stairs.  She clutched for the railing, trembling in shock and her heart pounding in her chest at the thought of tumbling headfirst to her death.  While at the same time relieved she hadn’t been stuck as a stream of molecules mid-way between relocator destinations.  She stood in the pitch black for what seemed like decades, her eyes wide as she listened.  The lights flickered on at the same time as an explosion rocked the building around her.  Not a glitch in the power grid then. 

Just in case exiting the stairwell was as easy as waving her hand over the door control, Julia waved her hand over the door control.  Nothing happened, so she tried thinking them open.  Maybe Mark’d had a point about practicing opening and closing the doors of their quarters until it was second nature.  Julia huffed; annoyed.  She could do without the image of Mark’s teasing smirk, thank you very much.

Without a radio, or any sign of an emergency door release, she would have to rely on herself to get out.  Her stomach went hollow at the daunting prospect; but she’d never let herself down before.  Julia ran her hand over her thigh and felt the sheathed knife.  She almost hadn’t worn it. 

“I want you to have this.” Mark said in a voice that brooked no refusal.

“What on Earth for?”

“Because we’re not on Earth.”

Julia felt the heft of the military knife in her palm and wondered how she would wield it with any effectiveness.  It was a dull grey, had square teeth like the walls of a medieval castle along one edge, and a wickedly sharp blade that curved to a blood-chilling point.  Her fingers curled around the ergonomic hilt.

“Strap it to your calf, your forearm, or your thigh if you’re wearing a dress.” He advised.  “You never know when you’ll need it.  Dragonus is a dangerous place – and it’ll make me feel better.”

He smiled a crooked grin and stroked Julia’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Your assailants may think you’re helpless, but we both know you’re not.”

It was during this conversation that they had come up with a plan.  The plan she was about to implement.  The plan Mark had made her memorize until she could relay it to him word perfect; until it was second nature.   He had been making sure the other half of him wasn’t defenseless in her new environment; so if something happened, if they were separated, then Julia would have the tools she needed to get back to him alive.

“Your number one priority is to get armed.” He lectured, holding her gaze to make sure she was hearing him.

“The armory is on level five, a left and a right from the stairwell, then to the end of the corridor.”

Julia nodded.

“Where is it?”

“Level five, a left and a right from the stairwell, then to the end of the corridor.” She repeated and Mark nodded, pleased.

Another explosion struck.  Too close for comfort, and the stairwell rocked again.  Cracks appeared, spreading like the roots of a fast-growing tree across and up the pristine white walls.  The alien equivalent of plaster chips and dust rained down.  Julia jumped; the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck standing on end as an army of goosebumps marched over her skin. 

It was time to act.  If the door in front of her wasn’t responding to commands, it was unlikely any of the others were either.  There was little point in going up or down a level to try them.  Julia flicked up her skirt and unsheathed her knife.  They weren’t elevator doors, but the concept was the same; slide the blade between them and twist, giving enough room to slip her fingers in and pry them apart.

She was panting like a dog for water, but the blade had moved the doors an inch and Julia had her fingers curved in the gap.  Ignoring the sweat trickling down her spine and between her breasts, she pushed, white-knuckled grip gaining her another inch.  Her hair had started coming loose from its pins and she huffed a breath, one curled tress lifting free, only to fall back over her face.  These situations looked far more glamourous and a hell of a lot easier in movies. 

Julia grunted and heaved, biceps burning under the strain as the gap widened enough to get her elbow, and maybe a foot through.  The hem of her gown was trapped under the sole of her shoe and she pitched forward; the hilt of the knife thunking her brow as it fell to the floor. 

“FUCK!”

Julia scrambled to stay upright and maintain her hard-won gap in the door with her shoulder.

Now all she had to do was wedge the doors open long enough to give her time to jump out.  The knife would be perfect, but she was bound to need it later.  Julia stood between the doors, panting and grunting with the effort of keeping them apart, and skimmed through her limited options; disregarding each in turn until…an armlet.  If she wedged it between floor and door she would only have one door to contend with, and she could jump free; thus avoiding being juicily squished.

Julia braced with her shin and back and slid down to wiggle the armlet’s cuff under the door in front of her.  She stood up before easing back her hold on the door.  It slid with an abrupt screech of worked gold on alien tile before catching.  Julia stood frozen in the gap while her brain yelled at her to
MOVE!

She lunged; rolling out into the corridor in a tangle of chiffon, gold heels, and wild bourbon curls.  It took a moment to figure out which way was up, then she scooped up her knife and got to her feet.  The blood rushed back to her brain with a prickly sensation that had Julia pressing her thumbs to her temples, while she leaned against the wall.

“Whew!” Relief surged, leaving her giddy with numb fingertips.

It was good to know that she wasn’t a horror film bimbo, but an intelligent, confident woman with a plan.  Julia gave a regretful sigh and used the blade to slice a new above-the-knee hemline; tied her hair back with the strip of fabric and kicked off her heels. 

She ran on bare silent feet to the end of the deserted corridor.  On first glance all the corridors in Phoenix appeared identical, but with the help of her X
2
gene the city projected holographic maps at each intersection.  All Julia had to do was place a palm on the silver square embedded in the wall and she’d know what level she was on.

Level ten, the projection displayed in bright red digits above her head.  Julia inhaled lungfuls of much-needed air to ease the ache in her chest.  She would have to descend five levels, go left, and then right down the corridor to the armory at the end.  It would be a piece of cake.  Provided she didn’t run into anyone unpleasant along the way.  And if she did, she’d just have to make sure she caused enough damage to her attacker, so she could run.  There was no way she’d survive a drawn out fight against a hulking battle-trained warrior with blood lust fogging his brain.

An image of the Arcadians who had attacked her and Mark on the beach, flashed in Julia’s mind and chilled her blood.  The key to surviving was to actually survive, and if that meant running, then she was fine with that.  Just as long as it wasn’t upstairs into an attic with only one exit, like the buxom starlet who screamed ridiculously as the guy wearing a hockey mask and revving a chainsaw cornered her.

Julia headed for the other stairwell.  The one that spiraled down the outside of the building like a silver slinky, each level having its own open air access.  She praised the creator of the city, whoever they had been, for their forethought in providing exit strategies for enemy attacks, and jogged down flight after flight with one hand on the rail and the other gripping tight to her knife.

The explosions were louder out there.  Their concussion blasts carried to Julia on the fresh ocean wind.  What on Earth was happening out there?  But then, she wasn’t on Earth.  Julia smiled in memory of the grin on Mark’s face and the sparkle in his eyes as he teased her with another of his endless bad puns.  God, she hoped he was safe.  Surely the universe hadn’t gone to all the trouble of getting them together, to take him from her now.

Julia jerked her mind back to her own situation.  She hadn’t been on this side of the building before, but with three full turns in the stairs per level, there was no attention to spare for sight-seeing, she was too busy counting.  Level five was around the next turn, but Julia’s steps slowed as she realized she had no clue what was going on.  She couldn’t just stroll back into the building without knowing what she would be facing.

The knife blade was dull, and completely useless as a reflective surface for looking around corners, which was what Julia needed.  She’d done well so far, was still alive, and she wasn’t about to ruin it by stupidly walking out from her cover and into an open space without checking first.  Julia did a mental tally of her assets and removed the second armlet.  Its shiny surface would be more helpful than the knife blade; the image would be distorted across the curve, but it was all she had.

Silent and slow, she tip-toed to the rounded corner and tilted the armlet until it reflected a fish eye view of the corridor.  It was deserted and Julia opted to run for it, rather than dither and miss what could be her only opportunity. 
Left, then right, armory’s at the end
, ran on a loop in her mind as she sprinted toward the next turn; white tiles cool beneath her bare feet.

She pressed herself back against the wall; tried to slow her noisy breaths while she used the armlet to check the next corridor.  Empty.  She ran for it; only two hundred yards…

Stunner blasts dyed the walls blue and scorched the spot where Julia’s head had been a split second before.

Terror welled in her chest and threatened to choke her as she bolted down the length of the corridor.  It had been too good to be true.  To expect that she would be able to surmount all her obstacles to reach the armory, while the city was under attack, and without running into a single adversary – armed only with a single knife and an armlet mirror – was unrealistic at best.  And now, another was coming toward her from the opposite end of the corridor, between Julia and the double doors of the armory.

His eyes widened as she bore down on him from less than ten feet away, desperate to reach the relative safety of a room chock full of weapons.  Adrenalin surged, driving her forward amid blinding flashes as the Arcadians behind her continued their efforts to bring her down.  The blade sunk deep into the meaty flesh of his thigh, ridge of carbon fiber teeth wedging deep as Julia twisted her wrist.  All of Mark’s instruction returning in the full force of muscle memory and icy fear.

She let the knife go and tripped on the falling body, tumbled and screamed when a white-hot burn carved a furrow of seared flesh into the muscle of her upper arm.  She scrambled to her feet, teeth gritted and jaw clenched.  The pain was excruciating and blurred her vision with tears as the adrenalin began to ebb.  She had to get inside, she just had to.  Apparently she needed to be panicked to get the mind control thing to work, because the armory doors parted enough for her to duck inside before they slid shut again; a quiet bleep registering their locked status. 

Julia gulped air like it was the last she’d ever get and twisted her arm to inspect the damage.  If she’d just put the armlet back on, perhaps the blast would’ve been deflected.  Instead, there was an angry gouge with singed weeping edges marring her pale skin, and it hurt like fuck.  With one end held firm between her teeth, Julia wrapped some of the purple chiffon into a field dressing and knotted it off before taking a moment to look around her.