By stretching his chain out to its fullest, Tyr was able to just reach
Beka's body. Concern bloomed as he took in her pale countenance, and real
fear awakened when he found the remains of nearly a dozen incisions into
her skull. What had they done to her? Face set in a ferocious scowl, Tyr
lifted Beka as gently as possible and laid her on the pallet in his cell.
For a while he sat and looked at her, absently smoothing her hair away from
the incision on her temple with one large thumb. His rage grew as he
counted the needle marks, lacerations at her wrists and ankles, various
bruises and the incisions on her scalp.
Then Beka's body began to shake. Almost imperceptible at first, the trembling intensified until it became long, convulsive shudders wracking her whole body. With a clutch of fear, Tyr lay down beside her, gathering her shaking body next to his to try to warm her. Curving his body protectively around hers, he wrapped her with one strong arm, pillowing her head on his other with his own head on his wrist. His hand splayed over her belly as he pulled her to him, trying to quell her shaking with the warmth and closeness of his body. Face set, Tyr closed his eyes and endured the terrible tremors of the woman in his arms, willing her to quiet.
"I am a physician by training," Galil began, her melodic voice shaky, "with a specialization in human and alien brain functions. For the past several years, since the. death of my husband, my son Ian and I have been living quietly on Saskill, treating the various ills of the local population. But then the Szezhume came, and our lives were - completely destroyed.
"The Szezhume are an engineered race that is seeking to perfect several classes of workers. Rather than relying only on genetic engineering, the species relies on a combination of genetics and physical - err - adjustments. They are particularly interested in mapping, and then duplicating, the brain folds of extraordinary individuals in the hopes of also duplicating their skills.
"Unfortunately, the Szezhume had -- heard of my research, mine and my husband's, in the area of brain topography. For several years after my husband's death, I did very little new research, concentrating on my practice and on my son, instead. Last year, however, I published a new paper, and the Szezhume used that to track me down.
"When they got here. let's just say the negotiations for my services were not pleasant, but I was able to resist them until they made me an offer I could not refuse. They took my son, Ian." Here, her voice started to really fall apart, and Dylan moved to put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she buried her face in her hands. Her voice was muffled as she finished. "And now I'm afraid they're going to kill him." Harsh sobs shook her frame, and Dylan patted her shoulder gently.
Eventually, the tremors died down, and Beka slid into a more relaxed state of unconsciousness. Loosening his hold only a little, Tyr continued lying beside her, encircling her with his warmth and strength.
After letting her cry for a while, Dylan spoke again. "So the Szezhume have been forcing you to work for them? What have you done? And why did they want us?"
Galil gulped as she tried to get her voice under control. "I have been mapping the brains of unusual and highly skilled humans. Carefully, so as not to kill them in the process. And you're here because they're interested in piloting skills."
"Beka," Dylan said, on a note of enlightenment.
"Beka," she confirmed flatly.
This time the trembling fit seemed even more violent, and as Tyr held onto her he began to truly fear for her survival. What, he wondered again, could they have done to her to cause this? Holding the slim form whose trembling seemed almost too violent to endure, Tyr frowned fiercely. Deliberately, he positioned his bound leg so that he could quickly snap the chain securing him to the wall. No matter how successful the purple- skinned freaks had been at subduing him before, this time, he vowed, he would fight to keep Beka from them. His jaw was tight with resolve as he held on to her.
"So, you're telling me that the Szezhume captured us so they could get Beka, and you performed some kind of surgery on her brain?" The captain's question was not a friendly one, and he sounded horrified at the end of it.
"Yes," Galil confirmed, head drooping. "Yes, I did, Mr. Hunt. I had no choice. They have Ian. My surgery didn't permanently hurt her, though. The only thing is."
".Is?" Dylan prompted.
"Well, she seemed to be having some kind of reaction to the drugs I was giving her. That's why I freed her in the first place."
"What kind of reaction?"
"Some kind of toxicity problem. Has she had some negative experience with drugs?"
"Yes," said Dylan, flatly.
"Well, Mr. Hunt, I'm not sure exactly what will happen to her from here. She and your other friend are on their way off planet - where and why, I don't know. But there was definitely some sort of drug interaction, I'm afraid. I'm very sorry."
There was a silence for a long moment, then Dylan sighed, rubbed his eyes and said, "Captain."
She darted a questioning glance at him out of tear-drenched eyes, and he clarified. "I am Captain Hunt. But you can call me Dylan."
Galil nodded, too lost in misery to respond. After a while he said, "OK, so, now you're going to help me figure out a way out of here, right, Galil?"
With a child-like sniff, she nodded, then ducked her head again. "OK.Dylan." Despite his anger, he marveled again at the clear green color of her eyes.
When the grating of the key into the lock came again, Tyr steadied himself and pulled, with a smooth strong jerk, on the chain fastening his leg to the wall. At first even his strength made no difference on the metal; Tyr inhaled deeply and pulled again, focusing his might on the recalcitrant binding. With a ping, the chain separated at the cuff, just as the fire of a nerve disruptor caught him again. His last thought was an incandescent rage at being unable to help Beka, then all was dark again. Neither he nor Beka stirred as their bodies were hefted down the corridors and into a transport.
For a long while, Rommie could hear nothing from the surface of the planet Saskill. Mostly agricultural, the planet, according to Rommie's most recent data, was settled by a mixture of different species. A few ships orbited the planet, ships of an unusual design that matched some ships that had been orbiting Wormhole Drift, but that was the only thing moving about the sleepy little planet. One of the ships suddenly departed in a flame of acceleration, but there was nothing unusual in such routine comings and goings. Even the ships' similarities to those at Wormhole might be coincidence.
"Trance?" Harper's voice had the edge it got when he was particularly stressed. "What now?"
Trance eyed him for a moment, then sighed a little, rubbing her forehead. "I don't know, Harper. I'm pretty sure Dylan is down there somewhere, but I don't know how we can help unless--."
"Hold on, here's something happening!" Rommie interrupted. Trance and Harper both rushed to their stations, focused in the planet's surface.
The familiar sensation of entering Slipstream aroused Tyr from his place on the rough floor of another cell. For a moment, after he pushed his upper body off the floor, he paused, his locks hanging, while the world did a slow roll around him. Was this the ship's movement or some lingering effect from being shot twice with a nerve disruptor? Tyr wasn't sure; he shook his head slightly to try to clear it, then pushed himself up to a sitting position.
The first thing he saw was Beka, lying prone a few feet from him. With a rush, the past hours came back to him, and Tyr crawled swiftly over to see how she was faring. So far as he could tell, the shaking that had so concerned him had not returned, but she was still very pale and showed no sign of regaining consciousness.
Tyr sat back for a moment as he considered things. They were in Slipstream, so obviously he and Beka had been moved from the planet. Why? Had they - whoever they had been - accomplished what they needed with the strange surgery on Beka's head? And where was Dylan? Tyr contemplated these questions for a moment, and then, with a brief shake of his head, dismissed them as currently unproductive. Time now to learn as much as possible about their current surroundings.
As he prowled the length and breadth of their cage, Tyr was relieved to find his physical situation much improved. He was only limping a little as he surveyed the enclosure, concluding that they were no longer in a space designed by the aliens that had made his former cell. For one thing, the metals and design used were very different. And this cell had primitive sanitation faculties, and a smaller door to pass items between the cell and the hall - most likely food and other supplies. A longer-term holding pen, Tyr had to believe.
But if that was so, why was it on a starship? And where were they headed? Frustrated at the lack of answers, Tyr returned to Beka's side to lay himself down again. If he could do nothing else, he would rest, so he was ready for whatever opportunity presented itself for escape. Tyr turned toward Beka, checking again on her well-being, and closed his eyes.
Some time later, Beka awoke. At first, before the pain and exhaustion caught up with her, she drifted, not particularly concerned about her surroundings or situation. Gradually, she became aware of a presence beside her. She turned her head to find him sprawled out along side her, his head pillowed on one brawny arm and that glorious mane spilled carelessly around him. Still in that dreamlike state, she reached out one hand toward him. Absently, she noted its unsteadiness as she put two fingers, gently, on the clipped beard that framed his mouth. Luscious mouth, she corrected herself dreamily, smiling.
At the touch of her fingers, his eyes snapped open, and they were frozen for a moment in an intimate tableau. The dreaminess persisted, and Beka felt her smile grow until it reflected, unguarded, the feelings she had been hiding from him. For just a second, a precious moment that lingered as fragile as a soap bubble, she looked at him with the affection and desire she had come to feel for him openly in her gaze. She saw his eyes widen under the impact of that look. An expression leapt into his own gaze in response, a heated and intent look that she had never before seen from him. This, then, was the lion in passion, she thought, still insulated from reality by the lingering effects of the drug on her system.
Her own look heated in return, her eyes turning suddenly slumberous. Slowly, she put her tongue out to moisten suddenly dry lips, and the slight dilation of his pupils in response to her provocation pleased her. Again they froze, motionless except for the pulsing of their feelings. Beka was breathless as she lay, ensnared by the intensity of his gaze. The sudden clash of the door beyond their cell walls opening was an unpleasant and jarring intrusion. The bubble popped, and despite their peril Beka took a moment to mourn it, wondering if it would ever return.
The Ogami who entered alongside the aliens from the planet looked vaguely memorable to Beka, and Tyr's low growl confirmed her sense of familiarity. Beka looked on, still dazed, as Tyr rose lithely to his feet and began conversing through the bars with the strange-looking creatures in what she supposed must be their dialect. As the argument continued, Beka allowed the unfamiliar syllables to wash over her, watching and admiring the flex of muscles in Tyr's strong throat as his voice rose. The louder the voices got, the more distant they seemed to Beka, until a strange buzzing noise drowned them all out, and the next thing she knew was the now-familiar darkness as her consciousness faded.
"So, the first thing you should know is, they have two points of vulnerability based on their physiognomy." Dylan eyed his cellmate, brows raised, as he waited for her to continue. "First, their knees are structurally weak, and a good swift kick in the kneecap should disable them. They are careful to guard against that, however. Second, the elongated structure of their spinal column should makes them particularly susceptible to blows just there," she gestured to a point on the back of his neck, "if you can hit it just right."
Dylan nodded.
"You've seen that they're pretty good at hand to hand, but I think you could defeat more of them if you fight in, close to them. That'll keep you out of range of their longest, most powerful blows."
Dylan looked speculative at her words, then said, "And you're expecting me to fight them."
"Well," her voice trailed off, then continued, "I do have one idea about avoiding that, but I wanted you to be prepared. No matter how much I hate these guys, I am not strong enough to beat them physically. You are, and if we get caught you'll probably end up fighting them."
"So, let's don't get caught."
"My thoughts exactly, but Dylan, we ARE going to rescue Ian. There is no other alternative." Her voice was fierce as she spoke, and she eyed him challengingly.
Dylan was already nodding, however, by the time she finished. "Yes, if there's any way we can do it, we will rescue your son. Now what's your idea?"
"Well, behind this block of cells is an access hall. You must have wondered about sanitation and food--"
"Particularly food, by this point," Dylan interjected.
Galil looked conscious-stricken for a moment. "Of course. Dylan I'm so sorry--"
He interrupted again. "Never mind. Continue."
She swallowed for a moment, then went on. "I think we could probably break through the cell wall here and get access to that corridor. This area here," she pointed to a square of blocks, "is the area that opens to allow food to be passed into the cells."
"You think we can break through solid stone blocks?"
"Well, that's the thing, Dylan, they aren't solid stone blocks here. I think you could get through it."
"All right, then - I'll try." With that, Dylan moved as close to the wall where he was tethered as possible, gathered his strength, then broke his ankle shackle with a strong kick eerily similar to Tyr's move to free himself. Dylan's fetter broke, tearing at his skin as it grudgingly released him. His face spasmed briefly at the pain, then, setting it aside, he ran across the cell and let fly another kick directly at the center of the area that Galil had indicated.
The thud as the blow landed sounded amazingly loud, but also hollow, and the stone façade gave perceptibly beneath his blow. With a deep breath, Dylan tried again, aiming his foot directly at the indent he'd already made. The rock crumbled away at the force of his kick, making an opening nearly as large as his shoulder span. One more kick and he was all the way through.
Behind the stone was a primitive locking gate, but this one was far less sturdy than the main cell gate. With a few more hammering kicks, prompting nervous looks from Galil at the clangs that rang through the cell, Dylan broke the lock and the gate flew open. Cocking one eyebrow, he turned to her. "After you," he said with an elegant wave of his hand.
Galil rolled her eyes slightly as she darted though the opening. Without any hesitation, she turned left and began jogging through the hall, trying to make her footfalls as soft as possible. With Dylan by her side, she navigated a tortuous set of cross-tunnels, weaving back and forth until he had some doubt that he could find his way back to their cell unaided.
Finally, as every cell in his body was urging him to haste, she came to a large door. Here she stopped, and, putting her ear to it, began listening intently. When Dylan would have spoken she held up an urgent hand to silence him.
What she heard apparently satisfied her, and with a careful hand she reached up to open the door.
The next time Beka came to consciousness, she was lying clasped in Tyr's arms. Even though her back was to him, she was certain it was he; she'd felt the warmth and hardness of the body pressed against hers in hand-to- hand too often to mistake it. This time, the dreamy separateness was missing from her brain, and her eyes widened as she took in the implications of her position.
Why was Tyr - Tyr of all people - holding her as she rested? She vaguely remembered waking up beside him before, but this was different. What was going on?
For a while, she lay absolutely still and wondered about her situation, then she succumbed to the growing ache in her head and lifted her hand to her temple, groaning a little despite her efforts at stoicism.
The body behind her stirred. "Beka?" came the deep voice, grating slightly.
"I think so, but did you get the registration of the ship that spaced me?" she quipped, trying to keep things light.
Tyr ignored that remark. Moving away from her back - No, don't leave, a tiny unbidden part of her pleaded - he crawled around until he could study her face. Beka felt her color rise a little as she met those concerned dark eyes.
"How are you feeling?"
"Umm.I've felt better," she responded with massive understatement. Actually she really did feel as though she'd been spaced - or at best, beaten and mauled. Her head hurt, her wrists and ankles hurt, and her whole body was wracked with a punishing sort of weariness. Thinking about that for a moment, Beka gave a puzzled frown. "What did happen to me, anyway?"
Tyr shook his head. "I am not sure. All I know is this: when we all came to on that planet, you were strapped to a table with medical equipment all around you. It seemed obvious that some sort of medical procedure was intended. Dylan and I fought as hard as we could, but we did not succeed in preventing them from. doing whatever they did to your head. After whatever that was, you were put in the same cell with me. You had had some kind of surgery, been restrained against your will, and I believe you had been drugged."
Beka felt her eyes widen as Tyr spoke of drugs. "More drugs? Did they seem to - err - affect me?"
Tyr's eyes were grave as he met hers. "Yes," he said simply.
Beka closed her eyes and turned away. "Damn," she said, heartfelt. "I didn't need that."
Tyr was quiet for a moment, then he said, "Hopefully, the worst is already over. This is the first time you've been - lucid."
"You mean I've been conscious before and not lucid?" She looked at him, troubled. "I'm sorry, Tyr."
Tyr's smile was amazingly gentle. "No need." For a moment, their eyes met, and Beka felt as though she was trembling on the brink of some enormous shift, some change so profound that it frightened her at a level nearly primal. With a wrench, she tore her gaze from his, instinctively resisting that fundamental change. When she risked a look back at him she was taken aback to find his cheekbones accentuated by his trademark hidden grin. In his eyes she surprised a very masculine smile, one she had never seen before.
Beka's brows drew together, but she decided to focus on her next question. "Where are we, Tyr? What happened after I ended up in your cell?"
"The creatures from the planet used a nerve disruptor and we awoke on this ship. Apparently, the Ogami had some interest in meeting up with me, and you seem to be along for the ride."
Beka was horrified. "The Ogami? That can't be good." Tyr simply shrugged, wordless. "And Dylan?"
Again Tyr shrugged. "I haven't seen him since we arrived on that planet."
Beka frowned, troubled. "I don't like this, Tyr. I hope Dylan's OK, and I am in no mood to be somebody's weird medical experiment any more."
Tyr smiled a little, obviously - if uncharacteristically - trying to comfort. "I know, Beka. I know."
The knees of the Szezhume were very vulnerable. Dylan had to acknowledge that the information he'd been given was right, even as he deplored his sudden pressing need to use it. They'd gotten undetected through the heavy metal door and into the main elevator to the above-ground level, but that was where their luck had run out.
Five of the Szezhume had been walking through the corridor that Galil had picked. A patrol, Dylan's mind had handed him the analysis before he'd consciously identified them, and then they were upon him.
With a low grunt, Dylan kicked out again at the third alien. Two were down, but three were left to fight, and with a sardonic corner of his mind Dylan noted that he'd been deserted by his erstwhile escort. Still, he fought with a will, hoping to free himself and find out where Tyr and Beka had been taken.
A vicious blow from behind rattled his teeth, and Dylan swung to face the new threat. He felt himself tiring rapidly, but with a grim strength of will he held on, ready to launch another attack. He was delighted to see the woman Galil back with him, and slightly amused to see her take out the third alien with a blow to the back of its neck with what looked to be a cooking pan of some type.
Dylan whirled back to the other two aliens, and disabled one with a kneecap blow. As Galil moved in to finish off the alien who had just fallen, Dylan punched the last alien in the stomach, and then in the back of the neck as it bent forward. Panting slightly, Dylan leaned his hands on his thighs for a brief rest.
"C'mon!" Galil said, her voice urgent. Using the back of his hand, Dylan wiped blood from his mouth and lurched to follow her. She swung around and nearby corner, and as quickly darted back out with a young boy in her arms.
"Ian, I presume?"
"Yeah, but let's worry about intros later, OK? Let's get moving!"
Dylan followed her at as fast a pace as he could manage.
Beka began to feel marginally better as a little time passed. With Tyr's help, she managed first to sit, and then, despite his objection, to stand, swaying in place. She shook her head a little to try and clear it, then winced at that obvious mistake. Tyr, watching her, was frustrated by her persistence in pushing herself, but felt the familiar - if unwilling - admiration of the will and guts she displayed.
When she was steadier on her feet, Beka walked slowly around the cell, unconsciously retracing Tyr's earlier examination. Stopping by the door, she stooped to look carefully at the lock; the head-down position made her so dizzy she had to grab the bars of the door to stay upright. Tyr reached a hand out to steady her, but pulled it back as she turned to glare at him. Obviously, he reflected, she did not welcome his help.
Beka made the circuit of their cell again, this time looking up as she walked around. After the second trip, she focused on the cell corners, looking carefully at them. When she'd finished her mysterious examination, she sat on the ground, hunched over in a very awkward position. Tyr, puzzled, walked around to face her. He was startled to find her unbuttoning her shirt, and withdrew quickly at her snapped, "Privacy, please!"
After a few intriguing squirms, Beka made a faint clink that sounded like metal on metal. Even more puzzled, Tyr waited, eyes glued to Beka's back, until she staggered back to her feet and shot him a look of mingled mischief and triumph. In her hands, incredibly, was what looked very much like a lock pick. Tyr's identification was confirmed when Beka crossed to the cell door and, straining to reach, put the pick in the lock of the door.
An agonizing couple of minutes followed, as Beka, with her arm outstretched as far as possible, struggled to manipulate the picks enough to get the cell unlocked. Tyr watched with concern as her complexion grew paler, but her unlocking the door was a matter of survival for both of them. Once, he began to offer to try it himself - he, too, had some experience with unlocking recalcitrant doors with unorthodox methods - but he got the same glare he'd gotten the last time he offered assistance, so, with some difficulty, he kept quiet.
Finally, the "ping" of the lock rollers dropping into place sounded loudly in the cell. For a moment, Beka sagged in relief, weariness etched in her countenance. At some level that Tyr didn't even want to acknowledge, pride and a sharp concern for her warred. Then, with another obvious effort of will, Beka straightened. She pushed the cell door open and, with an ironic wave of her hand, ushered him from it. A reluctant smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, despite the urgency of the situation, as he made his way out into the alien ship.
A loud klaxon alarm began sounding as Galil led them at a run toward a field filled with spaceships. Aliens poured from nearby buildings, and Dylan's heart sank and he took in the display of personnel. Even though they were closer to the ships, how could they hope to steal one in the time required? The situation was clearly desperate, and Dylan fervently trusted that Galil had something more up her sleeve.
Aboard the Andromeda, Rommie's scanners were able to pierce the atmosphere and get a pretty good fix on the field. The flurry of internal and ship-to- planet communications that had first alerted Rommie originated at the airfield, and she honed her monitoring in on the activity there. Harper's heart sank as he recognized the limping figure of Dylan nearly surrounded by a large group of purple-skinned aliens. An absent corner of his mind made a note of the similarity of the skin tone's to the color Trance had once sported, but for now, more urgent matters consumed his attention.
"Rommie, planetary fighters, now!"
Rommie shut her eyes for a moment, then reported, "Four Phoenix fighters launched. Planetary ETA four minutes."
"Rommie, that's not fast enough. Can you do something to distract them from Dylan?"
Rommie shut her eyes again, and opened them to say, "Missile away. ETA fifty three seconds."
"You're not going to hit anything are you?" Harper sounded abruptly concerned, but he rolled his eyes a little to acknowledge the seeming stupidity of that question when both Rommie and Trance turned to stare at him incredulously. "I mean, hit anything significant?"
"I've targeted an open field about 2 kilos from them."
"Good." Harper's voice was full of relief as he turned back to the viewscreen.
"I hope that's fast enough," said Trance, worry clear in her voice as they watched the alien figures move in on Dylan.
Tyr was exceptionally good at skulking for such a big man, Beka thought wryly as she followed him. They'd been free for a couple of minutes and had discovered that the ship was fairly large. They'd ducked into passageways a couple of times to avoid approaching footsteps, but had so far avoided any direct confrontation. To Beka's way of thinking, this meant the ship was probably not too heavily crewed, and their chances of taking her had gone up. When she expressed that view to her companion, however, she was met only by a quirk of the eyebrows.
When they came to the next corridor, Beka indicated that she would take one branch and Tyr should take the other. She met his darkling look with raised eyebrows. Tyr shook his head emphatically; putting his mouth next to her ear he breathed, "We need to stay together!" with unusual emphasis.
Beka felt a flash of impatience. She was no weak female who needed to rely on a crew member, no matter how strong and capable the man in question. With an equally emphatic shake of her head, she motioned him down one corridor, turned on her heel and marched down the other.
Tyr watched her go with the same mixed feelings as before. He admired her fierce independence, but still, her color even now was not good. With a quick shake of his head he went the direction she had indicated.
When Galil stumbled, Dylan knew they were in trouble. The running aliens were seconds from them; if they chose to fire Dylan knew it would all be over very quickly. With a strong arm he wrenched Galil back to her feet; he heard her gasping sob as she hoisted her son in her arms again, but then it was too late. They were surrounded on every side by a hoard of the purple-skinned aliens, and Dylan's heart sank as he took in the savage purpose on every face. Putting Galil behind him with a smooth shove, Dylan turned to face the most menacing alien.
Sounds of fighting carried a long way in the ships' corridor, and Beka's heart sank as she heard it. A faint shrilling that sounded like some type of alarm also rang through the passageway. Abandoning caution, she turned back the way she had come and went after Tyr as quickly as possible.
But others were also drawn to the sound of the fighting, and Beka had gone only a short distance when she found herself in the middle of a fight of her own. Two of the purple skinned aliens erupted from a passageway just behind her; at the sound of their footsteps she whirled and let fly one of the kicks that Tyr had so painstakingly drilled into her. Aiming for the alien's thigh, she connected squarely with its kneecap, but this turned out to be a good thing as the creature's knee broke with an audible crack and it sank to the floor in front of her.
Beka, eyes wide at her unexpected success, turned to square with the other, and the fight was on. For many minutes she feinted, dodged, and kicked, unwilling to get close enough to the strange being to actually land a punch. For its part, the alien seemed equally wary of her, and even though she was really pushing her body with the effort required to fight, the alien seemed reluctant to mount an all-out challenge. Beka was tiring, though, and things might have turned out different if the ship had not suddenly bucked and turned so quickly that its anti-grav and stabilization units were unable to keep up. Beka and the alien were tossed to the floor, and in the ensuing confusion Beka was able to land a fierce kick on the back of the alien's head. Soundlessly, it crumpled to the ground, joining its colleague who had apparently fainted from the pain of its injuries.
Picking herself up from a heap on the floor, Beka dusted off with unsteady hands and, amid other drastic turns and swoops from the ship, alternately walked and crawled down the corridor toward Tyr.
The explosion drew cheers from the Com deck of the Andromeda, where Harper, Rommie and Trance were locked on the visual monitors of Saskill's surface. For a moment, it had seemed that Dylan - along with the woman and child who were apparently traveling with him - was in big trouble, but the loud crashing roar of the missile that Rommie had fired off successfully distracted the entire group. Rommie could focus closely enough on Dylan that they all saw his assessing look, the squinted eyes into the sky, and the dawning hope that the missile had come from his ship.
"Do it again, Rommie!" Harper urged. "Let's keep those guys off balance until the fighters can get in there."
With a nod, Rommie launched another one. "ETA 48 seconds, Harper." At Trance's quick look she answered the unspoken question, "We're closer."
Trance nodded. "Good, Rommie. Let's keep them guessing down there."
All three trained their eyes on the screen as the second missile flamed through the planet's surface.
Taking advantage of the babble of discussion from the alien hoard surrounding them, Dylan put his lips next to Galil's ear and said, "I think that's my ship. And I bet she's got a shuttle on her way here."
Just as softly, Galil replied, "I have the authorization codes for that bird over there if you can get us there."
Dylan measured the distance to the ship-to-surface shuttle Galil had indicated and decided that he probably could, especially if Rommie had another missile up her sleeve. As if in answer to his thought, the streak of another projectile tore through the sky, scattering the aliens even before it landed. This time the crash was closer, and in the ensuing confusion Dylan pulled Galil and Ian onto the small ship. With a slap of his hand he closed the entry hatch on the cacophony outside.
"Can you fly her?"
Galil shook her head. "Probably not nearly as quickly as you could."
"OK, enter the codes and let's get out of here."
Without any further conversation, Galil spoke the codes, and Dylan fired up the ship just as blows on the hull made it obvious that at least some of the Szezhume had figured out where they'd disappeared to. With a roar, Dylan blasted into the atmosphere, bound for the ship he knew in his heart was waiting for him.
By the time Beka made it down the corridor to what turned out to be the bridge of the ship, she'd passed more than ten bodies and the evidence of a great deal of fighting. The ship continued to writhe and buck as she got closer to the bridge, and the jarring sounds of combat and shrilling alarms got louder. Kicking herself for not thinking of this sooner, Beka briefly searched the next body she came across for a weapon, but she found nothing. With a quick shrug she dashed off toward the sounds of conflict.
The temperature of the ship was beginning to heat up, and as Beka entered the bridge her experienced eye quickly told her that the ship was in unrestrained entry into the atmosphere of a planet. With a clutch of relief she saw that Tyr, off to her left, was bloodied but still fighting fiercely against the two Ogami. No other aliens were in view, and Beka, heart racing at the new threat posed by uncontrolled atmosphere entry, quickly moved to the pilot's chair. Though the controls were unfamiliar, Beka was an experienced pilot; she soon found the brake thrusters and engaged them to slow the ship's entry into the unidentified planet's atmosphere.
The ship's stabilizers and anti-grav units had apparently been damaged by the period of uncontrolled re-entry, so the ship's abrupt swerve as the braking units kicked in toppled all three of the contestants in the corner of the bridge. Beka's eyes swept the pilot's chair urgently for something to use as a weapon; another severe jar and the shrilling of additional alarms convinced her, however, that she needed to keep on top of things in the pilot's realm. Tyr would have to deal with the Ogami alone.
Frantically, Beka's fingers danced over the controls to the ship, trying to straighten her course and get her acceleration under control. Even with brake thrusters firing the ship was still going too fast; Beka's eyes widened as the viewscreen cleared in front of her and she could see the velocity with which the ship was approaching the planet's surface.
Her entire being was focused on pulling the ship up, slowing her angle of descent and her speed. She fired brake thrusters again and she poured over the surface of the navigation computer, entering and refining angles, learning by trial and error. Gradually, the ship slowed, but they were by then so close to the planet's surface that Beka could make out individual trees. Ahead, a copper-colored lake gleamed in the light of the twin suns that Beka could now see.
With a gulp, Beka steered toward that gleaming pool, hoping to skim the ship along the water's surface and avoid an all-out crash. "Brace yourselves!" she shouted, knowing that Tyr was otherwise occupied and probably could do no such thing.
The lake came up beneath them, faster and faster, and Beka labored to pull the nose of the ship up so she wouldn't cartwheel when she first hit the resistance of the water. Whether it was the unfamiliar nav computer, a burst of wind, or a miscalculation was unclear, but as the ship touched the water its nose was pulled underneath. Without any warning, the ship was thrown over and over and over again, spinning along the surface of the water like a skipping stone. It finally came to rest near the far shore of the massive lake. Slowly, it began to sink.
Then Beka's body began to shake. Almost imperceptible at first, the trembling intensified until it became long, convulsive shudders wracking her whole body. With a clutch of fear, Tyr lay down beside her, gathering her shaking body next to his to try to warm her. Curving his body protectively around hers, he wrapped her with one strong arm, pillowing her head on his other with his own head on his wrist. His hand splayed over her belly as he pulled her to him, trying to quell her shaking with the warmth and closeness of his body. Face set, Tyr closed his eyes and endured the terrible tremors of the woman in his arms, willing her to quiet.
"I am a physician by training," Galil began, her melodic voice shaky, "with a specialization in human and alien brain functions. For the past several years, since the. death of my husband, my son Ian and I have been living quietly on Saskill, treating the various ills of the local population. But then the Szezhume came, and our lives were - completely destroyed.
"The Szezhume are an engineered race that is seeking to perfect several classes of workers. Rather than relying only on genetic engineering, the species relies on a combination of genetics and physical - err - adjustments. They are particularly interested in mapping, and then duplicating, the brain folds of extraordinary individuals in the hopes of also duplicating their skills.
"Unfortunately, the Szezhume had -- heard of my research, mine and my husband's, in the area of brain topography. For several years after my husband's death, I did very little new research, concentrating on my practice and on my son, instead. Last year, however, I published a new paper, and the Szezhume used that to track me down.
"When they got here. let's just say the negotiations for my services were not pleasant, but I was able to resist them until they made me an offer I could not refuse. They took my son, Ian." Here, her voice started to really fall apart, and Dylan moved to put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she buried her face in her hands. Her voice was muffled as she finished. "And now I'm afraid they're going to kill him." Harsh sobs shook her frame, and Dylan patted her shoulder gently.
Eventually, the tremors died down, and Beka slid into a more relaxed state of unconsciousness. Loosening his hold only a little, Tyr continued lying beside her, encircling her with his warmth and strength.
After letting her cry for a while, Dylan spoke again. "So the Szezhume have been forcing you to work for them? What have you done? And why did they want us?"
Galil gulped as she tried to get her voice under control. "I have been mapping the brains of unusual and highly skilled humans. Carefully, so as not to kill them in the process. And you're here because they're interested in piloting skills."
"Beka," Dylan said, on a note of enlightenment.
"Beka," she confirmed flatly.
This time the trembling fit seemed even more violent, and as Tyr held onto her he began to truly fear for her survival. What, he wondered again, could they have done to her to cause this? Holding the slim form whose trembling seemed almost too violent to endure, Tyr frowned fiercely. Deliberately, he positioned his bound leg so that he could quickly snap the chain securing him to the wall. No matter how successful the purple- skinned freaks had been at subduing him before, this time, he vowed, he would fight to keep Beka from them. His jaw was tight with resolve as he held on to her.
"So, you're telling me that the Szezhume captured us so they could get Beka, and you performed some kind of surgery on her brain?" The captain's question was not a friendly one, and he sounded horrified at the end of it.
"Yes," Galil confirmed, head drooping. "Yes, I did, Mr. Hunt. I had no choice. They have Ian. My surgery didn't permanently hurt her, though. The only thing is."
".Is?" Dylan prompted.
"Well, she seemed to be having some kind of reaction to the drugs I was giving her. That's why I freed her in the first place."
"What kind of reaction?"
"Some kind of toxicity problem. Has she had some negative experience with drugs?"
"Yes," said Dylan, flatly.
"Well, Mr. Hunt, I'm not sure exactly what will happen to her from here. She and your other friend are on their way off planet - where and why, I don't know. But there was definitely some sort of drug interaction, I'm afraid. I'm very sorry."
There was a silence for a long moment, then Dylan sighed, rubbed his eyes and said, "Captain."
She darted a questioning glance at him out of tear-drenched eyes, and he clarified. "I am Captain Hunt. But you can call me Dylan."
Galil nodded, too lost in misery to respond. After a while he said, "OK, so, now you're going to help me figure out a way out of here, right, Galil?"
With a child-like sniff, she nodded, then ducked her head again. "OK.Dylan." Despite his anger, he marveled again at the clear green color of her eyes.
When the grating of the key into the lock came again, Tyr steadied himself and pulled, with a smooth strong jerk, on the chain fastening his leg to the wall. At first even his strength made no difference on the metal; Tyr inhaled deeply and pulled again, focusing his might on the recalcitrant binding. With a ping, the chain separated at the cuff, just as the fire of a nerve disruptor caught him again. His last thought was an incandescent rage at being unable to help Beka, then all was dark again. Neither he nor Beka stirred as their bodies were hefted down the corridors and into a transport.
For a long while, Rommie could hear nothing from the surface of the planet Saskill. Mostly agricultural, the planet, according to Rommie's most recent data, was settled by a mixture of different species. A few ships orbited the planet, ships of an unusual design that matched some ships that had been orbiting Wormhole Drift, but that was the only thing moving about the sleepy little planet. One of the ships suddenly departed in a flame of acceleration, but there was nothing unusual in such routine comings and goings. Even the ships' similarities to those at Wormhole might be coincidence.
"Trance?" Harper's voice had the edge it got when he was particularly stressed. "What now?"
Trance eyed him for a moment, then sighed a little, rubbing her forehead. "I don't know, Harper. I'm pretty sure Dylan is down there somewhere, but I don't know how we can help unless--."
"Hold on, here's something happening!" Rommie interrupted. Trance and Harper both rushed to their stations, focused in the planet's surface.
The familiar sensation of entering Slipstream aroused Tyr from his place on the rough floor of another cell. For a moment, after he pushed his upper body off the floor, he paused, his locks hanging, while the world did a slow roll around him. Was this the ship's movement or some lingering effect from being shot twice with a nerve disruptor? Tyr wasn't sure; he shook his head slightly to try to clear it, then pushed himself up to a sitting position.
The first thing he saw was Beka, lying prone a few feet from him. With a rush, the past hours came back to him, and Tyr crawled swiftly over to see how she was faring. So far as he could tell, the shaking that had so concerned him had not returned, but she was still very pale and showed no sign of regaining consciousness.
Tyr sat back for a moment as he considered things. They were in Slipstream, so obviously he and Beka had been moved from the planet. Why? Had they - whoever they had been - accomplished what they needed with the strange surgery on Beka's head? And where was Dylan? Tyr contemplated these questions for a moment, and then, with a brief shake of his head, dismissed them as currently unproductive. Time now to learn as much as possible about their current surroundings.
As he prowled the length and breadth of their cage, Tyr was relieved to find his physical situation much improved. He was only limping a little as he surveyed the enclosure, concluding that they were no longer in a space designed by the aliens that had made his former cell. For one thing, the metals and design used were very different. And this cell had primitive sanitation faculties, and a smaller door to pass items between the cell and the hall - most likely food and other supplies. A longer-term holding pen, Tyr had to believe.
But if that was so, why was it on a starship? And where were they headed? Frustrated at the lack of answers, Tyr returned to Beka's side to lay himself down again. If he could do nothing else, he would rest, so he was ready for whatever opportunity presented itself for escape. Tyr turned toward Beka, checking again on her well-being, and closed his eyes.
Some time later, Beka awoke. At first, before the pain and exhaustion caught up with her, she drifted, not particularly concerned about her surroundings or situation. Gradually, she became aware of a presence beside her. She turned her head to find him sprawled out along side her, his head pillowed on one brawny arm and that glorious mane spilled carelessly around him. Still in that dreamlike state, she reached out one hand toward him. Absently, she noted its unsteadiness as she put two fingers, gently, on the clipped beard that framed his mouth. Luscious mouth, she corrected herself dreamily, smiling.
At the touch of her fingers, his eyes snapped open, and they were frozen for a moment in an intimate tableau. The dreaminess persisted, and Beka felt her smile grow until it reflected, unguarded, the feelings she had been hiding from him. For just a second, a precious moment that lingered as fragile as a soap bubble, she looked at him with the affection and desire she had come to feel for him openly in her gaze. She saw his eyes widen under the impact of that look. An expression leapt into his own gaze in response, a heated and intent look that she had never before seen from him. This, then, was the lion in passion, she thought, still insulated from reality by the lingering effects of the drug on her system.
Her own look heated in return, her eyes turning suddenly slumberous. Slowly, she put her tongue out to moisten suddenly dry lips, and the slight dilation of his pupils in response to her provocation pleased her. Again they froze, motionless except for the pulsing of their feelings. Beka was breathless as she lay, ensnared by the intensity of his gaze. The sudden clash of the door beyond their cell walls opening was an unpleasant and jarring intrusion. The bubble popped, and despite their peril Beka took a moment to mourn it, wondering if it would ever return.
The Ogami who entered alongside the aliens from the planet looked vaguely memorable to Beka, and Tyr's low growl confirmed her sense of familiarity. Beka looked on, still dazed, as Tyr rose lithely to his feet and began conversing through the bars with the strange-looking creatures in what she supposed must be their dialect. As the argument continued, Beka allowed the unfamiliar syllables to wash over her, watching and admiring the flex of muscles in Tyr's strong throat as his voice rose. The louder the voices got, the more distant they seemed to Beka, until a strange buzzing noise drowned them all out, and the next thing she knew was the now-familiar darkness as her consciousness faded.
"So, the first thing you should know is, they have two points of vulnerability based on their physiognomy." Dylan eyed his cellmate, brows raised, as he waited for her to continue. "First, their knees are structurally weak, and a good swift kick in the kneecap should disable them. They are careful to guard against that, however. Second, the elongated structure of their spinal column should makes them particularly susceptible to blows just there," she gestured to a point on the back of his neck, "if you can hit it just right."
Dylan nodded.
"You've seen that they're pretty good at hand to hand, but I think you could defeat more of them if you fight in, close to them. That'll keep you out of range of their longest, most powerful blows."
Dylan looked speculative at her words, then said, "And you're expecting me to fight them."
"Well," her voice trailed off, then continued, "I do have one idea about avoiding that, but I wanted you to be prepared. No matter how much I hate these guys, I am not strong enough to beat them physically. You are, and if we get caught you'll probably end up fighting them."
"So, let's don't get caught."
"My thoughts exactly, but Dylan, we ARE going to rescue Ian. There is no other alternative." Her voice was fierce as she spoke, and she eyed him challengingly.
Dylan was already nodding, however, by the time she finished. "Yes, if there's any way we can do it, we will rescue your son. Now what's your idea?"
"Well, behind this block of cells is an access hall. You must have wondered about sanitation and food--"
"Particularly food, by this point," Dylan interjected.
Galil looked conscious-stricken for a moment. "Of course. Dylan I'm so sorry--"
He interrupted again. "Never mind. Continue."
She swallowed for a moment, then went on. "I think we could probably break through the cell wall here and get access to that corridor. This area here," she pointed to a square of blocks, "is the area that opens to allow food to be passed into the cells."
"You think we can break through solid stone blocks?"
"Well, that's the thing, Dylan, they aren't solid stone blocks here. I think you could get through it."
"All right, then - I'll try." With that, Dylan moved as close to the wall where he was tethered as possible, gathered his strength, then broke his ankle shackle with a strong kick eerily similar to Tyr's move to free himself. Dylan's fetter broke, tearing at his skin as it grudgingly released him. His face spasmed briefly at the pain, then, setting it aside, he ran across the cell and let fly another kick directly at the center of the area that Galil had indicated.
The thud as the blow landed sounded amazingly loud, but also hollow, and the stone façade gave perceptibly beneath his blow. With a deep breath, Dylan tried again, aiming his foot directly at the indent he'd already made. The rock crumbled away at the force of his kick, making an opening nearly as large as his shoulder span. One more kick and he was all the way through.
Behind the stone was a primitive locking gate, but this one was far less sturdy than the main cell gate. With a few more hammering kicks, prompting nervous looks from Galil at the clangs that rang through the cell, Dylan broke the lock and the gate flew open. Cocking one eyebrow, he turned to her. "After you," he said with an elegant wave of his hand.
Galil rolled her eyes slightly as she darted though the opening. Without any hesitation, she turned left and began jogging through the hall, trying to make her footfalls as soft as possible. With Dylan by her side, she navigated a tortuous set of cross-tunnels, weaving back and forth until he had some doubt that he could find his way back to their cell unaided.
Finally, as every cell in his body was urging him to haste, she came to a large door. Here she stopped, and, putting her ear to it, began listening intently. When Dylan would have spoken she held up an urgent hand to silence him.
What she heard apparently satisfied her, and with a careful hand she reached up to open the door.
The next time Beka came to consciousness, she was lying clasped in Tyr's arms. Even though her back was to him, she was certain it was he; she'd felt the warmth and hardness of the body pressed against hers in hand-to- hand too often to mistake it. This time, the dreamy separateness was missing from her brain, and her eyes widened as she took in the implications of her position.
Why was Tyr - Tyr of all people - holding her as she rested? She vaguely remembered waking up beside him before, but this was different. What was going on?
For a while, she lay absolutely still and wondered about her situation, then she succumbed to the growing ache in her head and lifted her hand to her temple, groaning a little despite her efforts at stoicism.
The body behind her stirred. "Beka?" came the deep voice, grating slightly.
"I think so, but did you get the registration of the ship that spaced me?" she quipped, trying to keep things light.
Tyr ignored that remark. Moving away from her back - No, don't leave, a tiny unbidden part of her pleaded - he crawled around until he could study her face. Beka felt her color rise a little as she met those concerned dark eyes.
"How are you feeling?"
"Umm.I've felt better," she responded with massive understatement. Actually she really did feel as though she'd been spaced - or at best, beaten and mauled. Her head hurt, her wrists and ankles hurt, and her whole body was wracked with a punishing sort of weariness. Thinking about that for a moment, Beka gave a puzzled frown. "What did happen to me, anyway?"
Tyr shook his head. "I am not sure. All I know is this: when we all came to on that planet, you were strapped to a table with medical equipment all around you. It seemed obvious that some sort of medical procedure was intended. Dylan and I fought as hard as we could, but we did not succeed in preventing them from. doing whatever they did to your head. After whatever that was, you were put in the same cell with me. You had had some kind of surgery, been restrained against your will, and I believe you had been drugged."
Beka felt her eyes widen as Tyr spoke of drugs. "More drugs? Did they seem to - err - affect me?"
Tyr's eyes were grave as he met hers. "Yes," he said simply.
Beka closed her eyes and turned away. "Damn," she said, heartfelt. "I didn't need that."
Tyr was quiet for a moment, then he said, "Hopefully, the worst is already over. This is the first time you've been - lucid."
"You mean I've been conscious before and not lucid?" She looked at him, troubled. "I'm sorry, Tyr."
Tyr's smile was amazingly gentle. "No need." For a moment, their eyes met, and Beka felt as though she was trembling on the brink of some enormous shift, some change so profound that it frightened her at a level nearly primal. With a wrench, she tore her gaze from his, instinctively resisting that fundamental change. When she risked a look back at him she was taken aback to find his cheekbones accentuated by his trademark hidden grin. In his eyes she surprised a very masculine smile, one she had never seen before.
Beka's brows drew together, but she decided to focus on her next question. "Where are we, Tyr? What happened after I ended up in your cell?"
"The creatures from the planet used a nerve disruptor and we awoke on this ship. Apparently, the Ogami had some interest in meeting up with me, and you seem to be along for the ride."
Beka was horrified. "The Ogami? That can't be good." Tyr simply shrugged, wordless. "And Dylan?"
Again Tyr shrugged. "I haven't seen him since we arrived on that planet."
Beka frowned, troubled. "I don't like this, Tyr. I hope Dylan's OK, and I am in no mood to be somebody's weird medical experiment any more."
Tyr smiled a little, obviously - if uncharacteristically - trying to comfort. "I know, Beka. I know."
The knees of the Szezhume were very vulnerable. Dylan had to acknowledge that the information he'd been given was right, even as he deplored his sudden pressing need to use it. They'd gotten undetected through the heavy metal door and into the main elevator to the above-ground level, but that was where their luck had run out.
Five of the Szezhume had been walking through the corridor that Galil had picked. A patrol, Dylan's mind had handed him the analysis before he'd consciously identified them, and then they were upon him.
With a low grunt, Dylan kicked out again at the third alien. Two were down, but three were left to fight, and with a sardonic corner of his mind Dylan noted that he'd been deserted by his erstwhile escort. Still, he fought with a will, hoping to free himself and find out where Tyr and Beka had been taken.
A vicious blow from behind rattled his teeth, and Dylan swung to face the new threat. He felt himself tiring rapidly, but with a grim strength of will he held on, ready to launch another attack. He was delighted to see the woman Galil back with him, and slightly amused to see her take out the third alien with a blow to the back of its neck with what looked to be a cooking pan of some type.
Dylan whirled back to the other two aliens, and disabled one with a kneecap blow. As Galil moved in to finish off the alien who had just fallen, Dylan punched the last alien in the stomach, and then in the back of the neck as it bent forward. Panting slightly, Dylan leaned his hands on his thighs for a brief rest.
"C'mon!" Galil said, her voice urgent. Using the back of his hand, Dylan wiped blood from his mouth and lurched to follow her. She swung around and nearby corner, and as quickly darted back out with a young boy in her arms.
"Ian, I presume?"
"Yeah, but let's worry about intros later, OK? Let's get moving!"
Dylan followed her at as fast a pace as he could manage.
Beka began to feel marginally better as a little time passed. With Tyr's help, she managed first to sit, and then, despite his objection, to stand, swaying in place. She shook her head a little to try and clear it, then winced at that obvious mistake. Tyr, watching her, was frustrated by her persistence in pushing herself, but felt the familiar - if unwilling - admiration of the will and guts she displayed.
When she was steadier on her feet, Beka walked slowly around the cell, unconsciously retracing Tyr's earlier examination. Stopping by the door, she stooped to look carefully at the lock; the head-down position made her so dizzy she had to grab the bars of the door to stay upright. Tyr reached a hand out to steady her, but pulled it back as she turned to glare at him. Obviously, he reflected, she did not welcome his help.
Beka made the circuit of their cell again, this time looking up as she walked around. After the second trip, she focused on the cell corners, looking carefully at them. When she'd finished her mysterious examination, she sat on the ground, hunched over in a very awkward position. Tyr, puzzled, walked around to face her. He was startled to find her unbuttoning her shirt, and withdrew quickly at her snapped, "Privacy, please!"
After a few intriguing squirms, Beka made a faint clink that sounded like metal on metal. Even more puzzled, Tyr waited, eyes glued to Beka's back, until she staggered back to her feet and shot him a look of mingled mischief and triumph. In her hands, incredibly, was what looked very much like a lock pick. Tyr's identification was confirmed when Beka crossed to the cell door and, straining to reach, put the pick in the lock of the door.
An agonizing couple of minutes followed, as Beka, with her arm outstretched as far as possible, struggled to manipulate the picks enough to get the cell unlocked. Tyr watched with concern as her complexion grew paler, but her unlocking the door was a matter of survival for both of them. Once, he began to offer to try it himself - he, too, had some experience with unlocking recalcitrant doors with unorthodox methods - but he got the same glare he'd gotten the last time he offered assistance, so, with some difficulty, he kept quiet.
Finally, the "ping" of the lock rollers dropping into place sounded loudly in the cell. For a moment, Beka sagged in relief, weariness etched in her countenance. At some level that Tyr didn't even want to acknowledge, pride and a sharp concern for her warred. Then, with another obvious effort of will, Beka straightened. She pushed the cell door open and, with an ironic wave of her hand, ushered him from it. A reluctant smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, despite the urgency of the situation, as he made his way out into the alien ship.
A loud klaxon alarm began sounding as Galil led them at a run toward a field filled with spaceships. Aliens poured from nearby buildings, and Dylan's heart sank and he took in the display of personnel. Even though they were closer to the ships, how could they hope to steal one in the time required? The situation was clearly desperate, and Dylan fervently trusted that Galil had something more up her sleeve.
Aboard the Andromeda, Rommie's scanners were able to pierce the atmosphere and get a pretty good fix on the field. The flurry of internal and ship-to- planet communications that had first alerted Rommie originated at the airfield, and she honed her monitoring in on the activity there. Harper's heart sank as he recognized the limping figure of Dylan nearly surrounded by a large group of purple-skinned aliens. An absent corner of his mind made a note of the similarity of the skin tone's to the color Trance had once sported, but for now, more urgent matters consumed his attention.
"Rommie, planetary fighters, now!"
Rommie shut her eyes for a moment, then reported, "Four Phoenix fighters launched. Planetary ETA four minutes."
"Rommie, that's not fast enough. Can you do something to distract them from Dylan?"
Rommie shut her eyes again, and opened them to say, "Missile away. ETA fifty three seconds."
"You're not going to hit anything are you?" Harper sounded abruptly concerned, but he rolled his eyes a little to acknowledge the seeming stupidity of that question when both Rommie and Trance turned to stare at him incredulously. "I mean, hit anything significant?"
"I've targeted an open field about 2 kilos from them."
"Good." Harper's voice was full of relief as he turned back to the viewscreen.
"I hope that's fast enough," said Trance, worry clear in her voice as they watched the alien figures move in on Dylan.
Tyr was exceptionally good at skulking for such a big man, Beka thought wryly as she followed him. They'd been free for a couple of minutes and had discovered that the ship was fairly large. They'd ducked into passageways a couple of times to avoid approaching footsteps, but had so far avoided any direct confrontation. To Beka's way of thinking, this meant the ship was probably not too heavily crewed, and their chances of taking her had gone up. When she expressed that view to her companion, however, she was met only by a quirk of the eyebrows.
When they came to the next corridor, Beka indicated that she would take one branch and Tyr should take the other. She met his darkling look with raised eyebrows. Tyr shook his head emphatically; putting his mouth next to her ear he breathed, "We need to stay together!" with unusual emphasis.
Beka felt a flash of impatience. She was no weak female who needed to rely on a crew member, no matter how strong and capable the man in question. With an equally emphatic shake of her head, she motioned him down one corridor, turned on her heel and marched down the other.
Tyr watched her go with the same mixed feelings as before. He admired her fierce independence, but still, her color even now was not good. With a quick shake of his head he went the direction she had indicated.
When Galil stumbled, Dylan knew they were in trouble. The running aliens were seconds from them; if they chose to fire Dylan knew it would all be over very quickly. With a strong arm he wrenched Galil back to her feet; he heard her gasping sob as she hoisted her son in her arms again, but then it was too late. They were surrounded on every side by a hoard of the purple-skinned aliens, and Dylan's heart sank as he took in the savage purpose on every face. Putting Galil behind him with a smooth shove, Dylan turned to face the most menacing alien.
Sounds of fighting carried a long way in the ships' corridor, and Beka's heart sank as she heard it. A faint shrilling that sounded like some type of alarm also rang through the passageway. Abandoning caution, she turned back the way she had come and went after Tyr as quickly as possible.
But others were also drawn to the sound of the fighting, and Beka had gone only a short distance when she found herself in the middle of a fight of her own. Two of the purple skinned aliens erupted from a passageway just behind her; at the sound of their footsteps she whirled and let fly one of the kicks that Tyr had so painstakingly drilled into her. Aiming for the alien's thigh, she connected squarely with its kneecap, but this turned out to be a good thing as the creature's knee broke with an audible crack and it sank to the floor in front of her.
Beka, eyes wide at her unexpected success, turned to square with the other, and the fight was on. For many minutes she feinted, dodged, and kicked, unwilling to get close enough to the strange being to actually land a punch. For its part, the alien seemed equally wary of her, and even though she was really pushing her body with the effort required to fight, the alien seemed reluctant to mount an all-out challenge. Beka was tiring, though, and things might have turned out different if the ship had not suddenly bucked and turned so quickly that its anti-grav and stabilization units were unable to keep up. Beka and the alien were tossed to the floor, and in the ensuing confusion Beka was able to land a fierce kick on the back of the alien's head. Soundlessly, it crumpled to the ground, joining its colleague who had apparently fainted from the pain of its injuries.
Picking herself up from a heap on the floor, Beka dusted off with unsteady hands and, amid other drastic turns and swoops from the ship, alternately walked and crawled down the corridor toward Tyr.
The explosion drew cheers from the Com deck of the Andromeda, where Harper, Rommie and Trance were locked on the visual monitors of Saskill's surface. For a moment, it had seemed that Dylan - along with the woman and child who were apparently traveling with him - was in big trouble, but the loud crashing roar of the missile that Rommie had fired off successfully distracted the entire group. Rommie could focus closely enough on Dylan that they all saw his assessing look, the squinted eyes into the sky, and the dawning hope that the missile had come from his ship.
"Do it again, Rommie!" Harper urged. "Let's keep those guys off balance until the fighters can get in there."
With a nod, Rommie launched another one. "ETA 48 seconds, Harper." At Trance's quick look she answered the unspoken question, "We're closer."
Trance nodded. "Good, Rommie. Let's keep them guessing down there."
All three trained their eyes on the screen as the second missile flamed through the planet's surface.
Taking advantage of the babble of discussion from the alien hoard surrounding them, Dylan put his lips next to Galil's ear and said, "I think that's my ship. And I bet she's got a shuttle on her way here."
Just as softly, Galil replied, "I have the authorization codes for that bird over there if you can get us there."
Dylan measured the distance to the ship-to-surface shuttle Galil had indicated and decided that he probably could, especially if Rommie had another missile up her sleeve. As if in answer to his thought, the streak of another projectile tore through the sky, scattering the aliens even before it landed. This time the crash was closer, and in the ensuing confusion Dylan pulled Galil and Ian onto the small ship. With a slap of his hand he closed the entry hatch on the cacophony outside.
"Can you fly her?"
Galil shook her head. "Probably not nearly as quickly as you could."
"OK, enter the codes and let's get out of here."
Without any further conversation, Galil spoke the codes, and Dylan fired up the ship just as blows on the hull made it obvious that at least some of the Szezhume had figured out where they'd disappeared to. With a roar, Dylan blasted into the atmosphere, bound for the ship he knew in his heart was waiting for him.
By the time Beka made it down the corridor to what turned out to be the bridge of the ship, she'd passed more than ten bodies and the evidence of a great deal of fighting. The ship continued to writhe and buck as she got closer to the bridge, and the jarring sounds of combat and shrilling alarms got louder. Kicking herself for not thinking of this sooner, Beka briefly searched the next body she came across for a weapon, but she found nothing. With a quick shrug she dashed off toward the sounds of conflict.
The temperature of the ship was beginning to heat up, and as Beka entered the bridge her experienced eye quickly told her that the ship was in unrestrained entry into the atmosphere of a planet. With a clutch of relief she saw that Tyr, off to her left, was bloodied but still fighting fiercely against the two Ogami. No other aliens were in view, and Beka, heart racing at the new threat posed by uncontrolled atmosphere entry, quickly moved to the pilot's chair. Though the controls were unfamiliar, Beka was an experienced pilot; she soon found the brake thrusters and engaged them to slow the ship's entry into the unidentified planet's atmosphere.
The ship's stabilizers and anti-grav units had apparently been damaged by the period of uncontrolled re-entry, so the ship's abrupt swerve as the braking units kicked in toppled all three of the contestants in the corner of the bridge. Beka's eyes swept the pilot's chair urgently for something to use as a weapon; another severe jar and the shrilling of additional alarms convinced her, however, that she needed to keep on top of things in the pilot's realm. Tyr would have to deal with the Ogami alone.
Frantically, Beka's fingers danced over the controls to the ship, trying to straighten her course and get her acceleration under control. Even with brake thrusters firing the ship was still going too fast; Beka's eyes widened as the viewscreen cleared in front of her and she could see the velocity with which the ship was approaching the planet's surface.
Her entire being was focused on pulling the ship up, slowing her angle of descent and her speed. She fired brake thrusters again and she poured over the surface of the navigation computer, entering and refining angles, learning by trial and error. Gradually, the ship slowed, but they were by then so close to the planet's surface that Beka could make out individual trees. Ahead, a copper-colored lake gleamed in the light of the twin suns that Beka could now see.
With a gulp, Beka steered toward that gleaming pool, hoping to skim the ship along the water's surface and avoid an all-out crash. "Brace yourselves!" she shouted, knowing that Tyr was otherwise occupied and probably could do no such thing.
The lake came up beneath them, faster and faster, and Beka labored to pull the nose of the ship up so she wouldn't cartwheel when she first hit the resistance of the water. Whether it was the unfamiliar nav computer, a burst of wind, or a miscalculation was unclear, but as the ship touched the water its nose was pulled underneath. Without any warning, the ship was thrown over and over and over again, spinning along the surface of the water like a skipping stone. It finally came to rest near the far shore of the massive lake. Slowly, it began to sink.