Captive Surrender (10 page)

She needed a new last name.

“Safan. Maurra Safan.” It was the first name to pop into her head. The apartment manager nodded and jotted the information down in her book as she handed the room key over to Maurra. For sixty-six creds and a first and last name, anyone could rent a room in this ramshackle place for a month. It was as simple as that.

She was on Alintarus, a tiny planet in the Duro Chivvan system, and a short two-hour flight via shuttle pod from Jora. Although it was relatively close to Jora, Alintarus was, in many ways, a backward planet. Mainly agricultural, it had been settled by several humanoid species strictly for the purpose of growing produce on its nearly limitless land to sell to other worlds where others of their kind existed.

The largest city, or rather town, was Belunerr. An hour by rented slider found Maurra in Vi Worr, a tiny burg on the outskirts of one of the major crops. She easily found work as a reaper, helping in the fields. It would be manual labor, hard and tedious, but it had three things going for it. The inhabitants here were a peaceful species. She was in no danger of having to use her power and thus drawing attention to herself. There was no background check done on her, as the turnover rate for this kind of backbreaking job ran at almost ninety percent. And technology was at least two decades behind the norm, if not more. The vid monitors on this world were incapable of receiving transmissions from more advanced galaxies, which meant the chances were good no one here had seen the vids.

All she needed to do was keep a low profile, and life might be tolerable. Keyword being “might.”

Maurra dumped the last carton of supplies she’d brought with her on the floor and straightened up. She grimaced as she looked around the apartment that would be her home for the next…what? Days? Months? Years? It was barely two rooms. The bedroom was also the living area and kitchen.

She felt gritty, dirty, hot and sweaty. Alintarus was a subtropical planet, lush and green, with a rich soil similar in texture to coarse sand. Her blouse lay plastered to her skin. A window fan pumped barely cool air into the room. Otherwise there was nothing to break the heat from the midmorning sun.

She walked over to the window and tried to wipe some of the grime from the single pane. The view from the second story was of the edge of town. Not a hundred yards beyond that, fertile fields waited. Harvest would be here soon. She had arrived just in time.

An elderly Gori Vicorrian exited a shop and limped out of view. The Vicorri system was a good dozen or so light years from this place, which made her wonder how many inhabitants on Alintarus were fugitives like herself. Fugitives. Cast-offs. Pariahs.

She lifted her blouse to let the fan blow over her bared breasts. It provided a moment of respite. She would start work tomorrow morning. If the muggy weather bothered her now, she’d be miserable after a few hours of labor.

She glanced out the window again. It was a picturesque landscape. Had she been a casual visitor, she might have looked upon the scene and thought everything was right and good. Funny how she’d spent most of her life preparing herself, training endlessly and learning to expect the unexpected when performing her duties. And in the end, being the target of a man she had sent to the K’ro Kriall penal colony had brought about her downfall.

She was no longer a JoJo, but she would always have her psi powers.

And her memories of Safan.

Tears clogged her throat. They always did now, every time she thought of him.

I see the sun. You see the dark. I feel the wind on my face. You will never smell fresh air again.

She sniffed and wiped her cheeks with her fingers. When she had awakened in the Ellinod hospital, she had believed she was the one who had made the greatest sacrifice in order to get herself and Safan free from the Kronners. She’d been wrong. Even if she had died, nothing would be able to match what Safan was enduring. With death, her suffering would be over. Safan was suffering in ways she couldn’t imagine, and he would never find an end to it. Not for as long as he lived.

Do you blame me, Safan? Do you ever stop to think that if I hadn’t been there, your fate would have been different?

Do you ever think of me?

Sexually speaking, Maurra truly believed she was ruined, but not in an unhealthy way.

Long ago she had realized she wanted more than a hard fuck. She also wanted intimacy. She wanted tenderness and caring. Most of all, she wanted permanence. She wanted to believe being with her partner was of paramount importance to the both of them. That parting would leave cold, immense, emotional holes in the psyche. Dreeson never gave her that feeling. Neither had any of the others she had chosen.

But the one male she hadn’t selected…he had come close. So awfully close, it was painful to think about it. The one male who hadn’t been her choice, but the choice of a group of sleazy Kronners. Even before they had fucked, he had touched her with a gentleness that had shocked her. After that first time, even with the translation device chewing through her spinal cord, she’d sensed an honest affection. This man would never mistreat her. He would never lie to her. He would never give her any reason to think she wasn’t important to him.

The other night she had tried to pleasure herself, but she’d failed miserably. It took focusing on her memories of Safan and their lovemaking before she had gotten any sort of meager release. In the hours afterward, she had come to the miserable conclusion that her body would never respond to another man. If her future looked pathetic, her sex life was definitely the pits.

Her stomach cramped. She needed to eat. Locking her apartment door behind her, she headed for the stairs.

The landlady was in her office. The humanoid Xvasus saw Maurra walk by and gave a little wave. Maurra managed to paste a smile on her face and waved back. There was no sense asking the woman where she could find a place to eat. Vi Worr was so tiny, she could easily walk the town’s perimeter.

She exited into the heat-soaked day and automatically took a deep breath. She could smell dirt and metal and green growing plants. And smoke. Not ordinary smoke. Smoke scented with something cooking on an open fire.

Her nose led her down the one street in town until she reached an open patio between two stores. Underneath a large awning were several tables, some already full.

They glanced over at her standing at the entrance, then dismissed her to go back to their discussion and meals. Maurra felt her nervousness ease a bit. They didn’t recognize her. When it finally occurred—and she had no doubt that sooner or later she would be outed—she would have no choice but to move on to the next backwater planet or moon or asteroid.

“You want to eat?”

Maurra jumped, startled by the voice at her elbow. She looked down to see a vavelt staring up at her. The creature wore an apron and a questioning stare.

“If you want to eat, take a seat.” The vavelt flashed a smile and scurried away. Maurra found a table as far away from the other patrons as possible and sat down. The table was greasy to the touch, but the odors wafting through the air smelled fabulous. The kitchen was a tiny hut made of scrap metal, which sat on the edge of the patio. A stovepipe jutting through the roof was the source of all the wonderful odors.

Guilt clutched her gut and squeezed. Did Safan have enough to eat? For the hundredth time, she wished she could send her powers across the galaxy to check on him. Her range was far, but it wasn’t strong enough to traverse space.

The kitchen door burst open, and the vavelt she’d met earlier waddled over to her. The creature climbed up on the other chair at Maurra’s table and perched two of its hands on its hips.

“What will it be? Corfu buds or mordri?”

She’d never heard of either. “I don’t know. I’m new here.”

“Are you a veggo or a carniv?”

“A what?”

“Plant eater or meat eater?”

The vision of a nice juicy brolto burger popped into her head. “Uhh, meat eater.”

The vavelt nodded and yelled over its shoulder. “Slab of mordri at table two!” It turned back to her. “I’ll bring you a mug of proctering juice, unless you’d like something harder.”

“No. No thanks. The juice sounds fine.”

The little creature jumped off the chair and made its way over to the next table full of customers.

Maurra wiped her hands on her thighs. She wished she’d thought about washing her hands before heading out. Too late now. A glint of light off the tiny translator still embedded in her wrist caught her eye. The hospital staff had offered to remove it once the doctor’s orders came down to release her, but she had declined. Without her JoJo uniform with its translator woven throughout the fabric, she’d be lost in a sea of indecipherable noise if she didn’t have the little device. It wouldn’t be as strong or as capable as the one woven into her old uniform, but it was better than nothing until she could afford a better one. And considering what the pay was here on Vi Worr, that might take some time.

A blaring sound erupted from the depths of the kitchen. Someone turned it down until Maurra could make out a single voice speaking in a singsong tone. She couldn’t see the source of the voice, but she assumed it was an old-fashioned radio device. Someone had turned it on to get the latest news or whatever.

“JoJos have offered to intervene in the riot, but officials from the mines have declined.”

JoJos? What? What mines?
Leaning over her table, Maurra raised her wrist closer to her ear and tried to concentrate on the broadcast.

“At last count, eight bodies have been recovered. As a result, Ellinod supervisors are refusing to open the shafts down into the lower depths until the rioters have surrendered.”

She was on her feet without being aware of it.

“Change your mind?” a little voice by her knee asked.

Maurra gestured toward the kitchen. “What’s that about the mines?”

“You mean on the news? There’s been a riot over in the Bansheer system.” The vavelt shrugged. “I don’t know much more than that. Why are you asking? You got stock in the mines? I got stock in them. I hope to make enough off that billir so I can buy myself a little place and retire some day. Hey! Where are you going? You want me to cancel your order?”

She had to get to Bansheer Prime as soon as possible, and somehow she had to stop the riot. Safan’s life might depend on it. He needed her now. She knew it, the same way she knew, for some unexplainable reason, that her life depended on reaching him.

She barely had enough creds to buy the old trade ship. It was the best she could do on such short notice. At first glance the
Lorrmandi II
appeared to be just a few clicks shy of retirement. The engines needed a complete overhaul but they blew without any noticeable danger signs when she’d tested them. The interior and exterior looked as though someone had blowtorched them. Still, the craft was built for interstellar travel, which meant it was sturdy and very well preserved, despite its age and appearance.

The captain’s chair was the old standard model—a raised cushion in the middle of the deck overlooking the main front viewscreen. There were no cuffs, no extensions, nothing to help her facilitate running the vessel from any other part of the ship other than the bridge.

After throwing herself into the worn, padded seat, she strapped herself in and pulled up the driving console from beside one of the wide arms. It locked it into place, and she began warming up the dual engines. She relayed her destination to the small landing tower at the far end of Belunerr. This tiny strip stood on the complete opposite of town from where the larger and more modern landing port was located. It was easier to get a better deal on a used ship by scouring the smaller bays and staying clear of the commercial area.

“
Lorrmandi II
, you are clear for takeoff,” a voice buzzed from overhead.

“Confirm.
Lorrmandi II
out,” Maurra called back. “All right, Lorri. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“My name is
Lorrmandi II
,” the onboard computer calmly corrected her. The ship replied in standard Terrenglish, which meant the computer had been upgraded to respond in the language it was commanded in. That was good.

“My name is Maurra, and I’m your new captain. And if I want to call you Lorri, you’ll answer to Lorri. That’s an order.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The engines fired. Just as they had earlier, they gave a distinctive little second burst.

“Destination locked in. Let’s go, Lorri.”

“Yes, Captain.”

To her surprise, the little vessel rose as gently as a bubble on the wind. Within seconds she was clear of the planet’s gravitational pull.

“Ready to initiate hyper light drive,” the ship’s computer intoned.

“Then let’s do it.”

The ship shuddered as its engines opened up to faster-than-light speed. She watched as space exploded into a million colors like blossoming pyrotechnics. It was a sight she never tired of. A few minutes and several star systems slid by before she roused herself from the beautiful, almost hypnotic effect.

“Give me an ETA.”

“Estimated distance to the Bansheer system, 14.3 clicks.”

“Confirmed. Let’s come out of hyper light when we come within one full click of our targeted destination, all right, Lorri?”

“Confirmed, Captain.”

Fourteen clicks. That would be a little over eight hours. Barring any interference or unexpected happenings, she might be able to get some rest. Heavens knew she needed it.

And something to eat.

“Crap.” At the thought of food, her stomach resumed gurgling. In her hurry to leave Alintarus, she still hadn’t grabbed a decent bite to tide her over.

Unbuckling herself from the seat, Maurra walked to the rear of the vessel where the so-called living area was located, separated from the bridge by a folding wall. Originally, the
Lorrmandi II
had been a Tygrecian vessel. A low-end model, but since the Trygrecia were a large hominid species nearly ten feet tall, she had plenty of room to maneuver in what would have been cramped accommodations for them.

The food prep area was adjacent to the bathing stall. She peeked in the toilet facility. The slanted receptacle bowl came up to her chest. She’d worry about that obstacle later.

She checked the lower shelves first but wasn’t surprised to find them bare. Neither was there anything in the upper galley, from what she could see. On a hunch, she detoured to the rear of the craft, where she found several survival packets inside the minuscule life pod. A glance at the packaging told her nothing. She couldn’t read the language. And even if she could, would she try eating the contents if she knew what they were?

Fuck it. As long as it doesn’t kill me.

One silverish envelope contained a yellowish paste. Maurra immediately recognized the ration as bruulu. Many planets used bruulu as part of the diet rations for their military units. The stuff was made to last for years. No telling how old these packets were, but anything was better than starving.

On a guess, she opened another packet marked with different symbols. Grokksin, dried and jerked until it was like eating slabs of brick-shaped dirt. But it, like the bruulu, was packed with protein and vitamins. Healthy stuff. Stuff good enough to stave off starvation. Too bad there was absolutely no flavor to either.

She scarfed down two packets of each along with a tube of water. There’d been no time to supply the ship, much less check out any of the vessel’s other conveniences. But once she rescued Safan from the mines—

She froze. Maybe she’d been planning this all along, in the back of her mind. The riots had just given her the perfect excuse. So what was she going to do with Safan once she rescued him?

She had never planned ahead for things. She’d never had to. When she’d been a JoJo, her job had been to complete assignments. How she went about accomplishing her task had never been an issue, as long as it was legal. Whatever idea struck her at the time, she’d followed through with it. That was why she’d been so damn good at her job. Go with the gut and get it over with.

All right. She was going with her gut again, but this time she didn’t have a badge in the center of her chest to give her open and unrestricted access to the mines. The Ellinod had refused any help from the JoJos, which could only mean one thing. They had to be covering something up.

Or…

They wanted to wash away the taint of the Kronner vids as quickly as possible and didn’t want the JoJos to prevent that from happening.

Screw it. She wasn’t a JoJo any longer, so they couldn’t hold that over her. It would be interesting to see how this whole drama played out once she landed. The only thing that worried her was Safan’s health and state of mind.

If she saved him—

When! When I save him!

When she saved him, would he agree to leave the mines and come with her? Would he be willing to share a future, whatever it may be? Wherever it may lead them?

Maurra shook her head. She couldn’t go there. She couldn’t imagine what she would do next if he refused her.

A yawn overtook her. With eight hours to kill, she let her training take over. If she was going to face heavens knew how many Ellinod, not to mention rioting prisoners, she’d need as much rest as possible in order to build up her reserves so she would be ready.

The rear area of the galley floor slid away to reveal the bed below. There was a single musty blanket on top of the inflated mattress. Climbing over the warm pallet, she called out, “Lorri, wake me in thirteen clicks,” and feel right into a deep sleep.