Dark Minds (Class 5 Series Book 3) (10 page)

“
K
rik
?” she whispered over the whine of the shockgun.

“Yes, two of them. One got away.”

Imogen watched as the drone who'd been shooting landed back down again and disappeared around the corner. She started to move, but the drone beside her blocked the way.

“Wait.” Paxe's voice was sharp.

“What is it?” She leaned against the wall, tried to hear what was going on.

“I'm having the body moved. Will it upset you to see it?”

She gaped. “Yes.” She crouched down, eye level with the drone's lens. “Thank you, Paxe.”

He didn't respond, the lens zooming in and out, like he wasn't sure where to look.

“How did the other Krik get away?”

“They're fast, and these drones are designed for the cargo bay and the store, not offensive duties. They've served me well, but they aren't battle capable.” He sounded resigned.

“You seem to have an amazing control over them, especially as you're juggling three at once.” Juggling them quite independently of one another.

Again, he said nothing. Then the drone that had disappeared to dispose of the body reappeared, too quickly to have done anything more than simply dump the dead Krik down a side passage.

The other two drones flanked her again, but before she'd taken more than a few steps down the passage, all three of them suddenly stopped, frozen in place.

“Paxe?”

“Something urgent has come up.” His voice was the strangest she'd heard it.

“What's wrong?”

“Perhaps nothing. The drone will be on autopilot for awhile.”

She nodded, not sure what to say, and when she started walking again, they followed beside her.

She wasn't sure if it was because she knew Paxe wasn't personally manipulating them, or whether there was a real difference, but they seemed jerkier.

They passed passages branching off to the left and the right, and she thought she saw a body lying in deep shadow halfway down one of them and hurried on. The thought of the Krik who escaped lurking down one of them wouldn't leave her and she readjusted her hold on her whip and looked behind her often.

No one leaped out at her, and they reached the double doors of the hold in less than five minutes.

All three drones produced their shockguns.

“Do you have to?”

“The prisoners are not to leave.” The words were crisp and clear, but there was no life in them.

Imogen sighed. “How do I open the doors?”

A drone reached across and tapped a small silver device against the screen on the wall and they slid open.

The prisoners were dozing, giving Imogen a jolt. She had no idea what time it was, but seeing everyone lying quietly sent a wave of exhaustion through her and she had to reach out and steady herself against the door frame.

“You are the orange.” One of the thin, insectile aliens, the Fitali, she remembered, was in front of her so fast, she gave an involuntary squeak and stepped back.

The hum of the drones' shockguns ramped up suddenly, and everyone went still.

She very carefully stepped in front of the barrel of one of them. “Don't shoot.”

She looked back, and the drone lowered the shockgun a fraction as the Fitali retreated, hands up to show they were empty.

She remembered Kalor had introduced her to him. She caught his gaze. “I apologize, but I can't recall your name.”

“Chep. I apologize for startling you, we are simply desperate for . . .” He trailed off as the doors closed.

“I've persuaded them to bring you something to eat and drink.” Imogen lifted out the first container of water and Chep took it, then passed it on behind him. They soon had a chain of helpers, passing water around until everyone had some.

“There are nutrition bars, as well.” As she said it, she realized Kalor was nowhere to be seen. “Where is the captain?”

The slim, golden-skinned woman with the sharp teeth stepped in front of her, crowding her. She picked up a bar, and looked at it suspiciously. “What is this?” Her words were irritable, but there was something in the way she stood, a nervousness about her than made Imogen sure she was simply trying to distract.

Ularunda Diot. Imogen remembered her name because it had sounded good on her tongue. She looked beyond the Bukarian and caught sight of a hole in the ceiling.

Her gaze snapped back to Diot's and the wariness in her eyes made Imogen frown.

Kalor wasn't here and there was a hole in the ceiling.

Most likely, he'd escaped, and they were trying to draw attention away from the fact.

She looked down at the drones, and realized Kalor's team had every reason to believe Paxe would be angry about it.

He probably would, but why was she getting the impression they were as nervous she would sound the alarm as the drones?

Why would they assume her loyalty was to Paxe?

She looked over at Chep, recognizing his original actions as the same type of distraction Diot was providing now. He was watching her, tense and ready to move, and she breathed in a deep, stuttering breath.

She'd asked Paxe why he'd singled her out, and he'd prevaricated, giving her a non-answer. But there must be a reason, because at least some of the people here knew what it was.

Maybe that's what Kalor had been trying to tell her when the drones shot him. No, she reminded herself. When Paxe shot him.

The sound of hundreds of nutrition bars spilling onto the floor jerked her out of her thoughts, and she looked over with a frown, saw the drone had tipped the full contents of its box out.

“What . . .?”

“I need to speak to you privately,” Paxe said in English from one of the drones. “Right now.”

She could hear the stress in his voice and she nodded, backed away from Diot and Chep. Some of the prisoners looked at her with gratitude, and, more uncomfortably, reverence, which she guessed came from Kalor forcing her to sing earlier. But there was a coolness, a distance, coming from Kalor's team.

As she stepped back into the passageway, her gaze shifted to Olan, and the elderly scientist gave her a small smile that somehow emphasized the loss of the connection she thought she'd forged with them before.

The doors closed behind her and she crouched down next to the closest drone.

“We will be under attack by a Tecran Levron battleship within ten minutes.” Paxe's voice was the least human she'd ever heard it.

She closed her eyes. “You think it'll try to destroy this ship?”

“I . . . don't know.”

She lifted her head, opened her eyes at that.

“I think the Tecran will try to save it, but if they absolutely don't think they'll get it back, they will attempt to destroy it.”

She looked over at the hold door. “Will you let the prisoners go, then? Before they arrive?”

“I don't have time for that.” Absolutely stone cold.

“Make time.” Imogen leaned in, her nose almost against the lens.

“Why?” There was a challenge in his voice.

“Other than it's the right thing to do?” She bared her teeth. “Okay. If you're looking for more time to prepare, if you let them go, the Tecran will most likely first try to find out who they are, what's going on. They won't attack immediately.”

“There is some logic to that.” He sounded stiff.

She guessed that was a yes, and she was taking it as such.

“If there's only ten minutes, we need to get them moving.”

The drone tapped the screen again and the doors opened. Imogen rose up, realized her grip on her whip was almost painfully tight, and loosen it a bit.

“The person in charge tells me the Tecran are ten minutes away, and that they plan to attack this ship to try and get it back.”

All the murmurs that had started up when the door opened stopped.

“If you follow this drone, it will lead you to the launch bay, and you can get to your vessels and leave as fast as possible. The Tecran will most likely hold fire until you're clear.”

“How big is the Tecran attack fleet?” Ularunda Diot asked.

Imogen shrugged. “I don't know. Something about a Levron battleship. I only know they'll be here soon, and if you want to get off, you need to do it now.”

Diot shared a look with Olan and together they turned to stare at a woman leaning against the far wall.

Their pilot, Imogen remembered. She looked much better than she had done before.

The prisoners started streaming past her, rushing for the open door. A few had to be helped, but the hold was emptying fast.

Olan was swept along with them, the two other Fitalians on either side of him, but Ularunda Diot didn't follow. She moved deeper into the hold, her gaze fixed on the hole in the ceiling.

“Captain Kalor is reconnoitering?”

Diot looked over her shoulder at Imogen's polite inquiry, amusement gleaming in her eyes. “He is. Along with Lieutenant Pren.”

“I have some communication with the person running the ship. I'll see if he can contact them, let them know what's going on.”

Diot looked back at the gaping hole, her fingers tapping in a quick, nervous rhythm on her thigh. She walked right under it, and the way she moved her head, Imogen guessed she was trying to hear if the captain was coming back. When she turned back to Imogen, her face was drawn tight with worry. “They went left. That's all I know.” She hesitated. “You should come with me, to be honest. It's clear you aren't the Earth woman whose presence we were sent to investigate, but you still fall under the parameters of our mission and, in any event, you're welcome onboard our ship.”

Imogen blinked. She hadn't expected that. “Thank you, but I don't think anyone else could persuade Paxe to find the captain other than me, and when I find him and Pren, I'll come with them, if Paxe agrees to let me go.”

“You think he will?”

She shrugged, but no. She didn't think he'd let her go.

“Diot.” The call came from the sulky Garmman she'd been introduced to as part of Kalor's team. He stood in the doorway, impatience in every line. “We need to go.”

The hold was almost empty now, and Diot gave a sharp nod. “I'll see you in the launch bay with the captain and Pren.” The Garmman had already gone, and she moved to the door and disappeared.

There was one drone left, waiting for Imogen outside the hold. “Can you call Captain Kalor and Lieutenant Pren over the ship's speakers or something, tell them to meet their team in the launch bay?”

“No, I can't.” The words were distracted.

“Can't or won't?” She hadn't honestly thought he'd refuse her, and now she couldn't understand why she'd been so optimistic.

It was the core of her personality, but as she'd learned in the last two months, this new world she'd been dumped in was one place she really had no power to influence events.

“I can't. Just like the tubes. Just like the lens feed. The Tecran captain has shut those facilities down.”

She went very still. “Paxe, are you saying the captain of this ship is still aboard?”

“I told you there were Tecran onboard.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “You did.” So he didn't have access to the lenses. Toloco had guessed correctly, but somehow Paxe had still found out about her. “How did you see me, then? When Toloco bundled me down here?”

“Every now and then the captain switches the lens feed back on, just to see what's happening. He knows I have access when he does that, so he keeps it quick, but I was able to see you.”

“And so was he.” She wondered if it mattered that the captain of this ship knew who she was and that she was onboard.

The last of the prisoners disappeared down the passage and she set the information aside. No time for that now.

She started moving left. “What's this way?”

“The engine room.” The drone kept up easily.

She half-jogged, and decided she had no reason not to call out. Time was too short for anything else. “Captain Kalor. Lieutenant Pren.”

She was approaching an end to the passage, a t-junction that would force her to make the choice of going right or left. She heard movement, running, from the left.

“Captain Kalor?”

The drone moved ahead of her, lifting into hover mode and turning to face left when it reached the t-junction. The purple flash of shockgun fire as it hit the drone was so unexpected, Imogen stumbled the last few steps, watching in dismay as the drone fell and lay like a discarded toy.

She'd already raised her whip, so when a Krik stepped out from the corner she reacted on instinct again, swinging her arm down wildly, with no form or control. She would have to teach herself not to be such a scaredy cat and learn a little technique.

Although . . . she looked at the downed Krik, glad she could see the rise and fall of his chest, and blew out a shuddering breath. Learning not to shriek and hit out wildly would be more a matter of pride than anything else, because whatever she was doing worked. She studied the whip. It really was very effective.

And the Krik's face had been almost comical in its disbelief as she'd taken him down.

A sound behind her, quiet and stealthy, sent a prickle of fear rushing down her arms, and she spun, flicking the whip as she did.

Lieutenant Pren's face contorted in a flash of pain, and Imogen cried out, pulling her arm back sharply, but the whip, as she'd already noted, was very effective. Captain Kalor, just behind Pren, was falling, too.

Silence descended as he collapsed to the floor, and Imogen looked around her. She had just thought she was the least threatening being here, and yet, right now, she was the only one left standing.

S
he had really messed up
.

Imogen righted the drone, but it seemed to be dead. Or maybe just rebooting, because she felt a vibration in the metal as she set it back on its wheels, although she couldn't hear anything.

It meant she would get no help from Paxe. She was on her own.

She ignored the Krik, leaving him sprawled facedown on the floor.

She'd checked both Pren and Kalor, and they were breathing easily, to her enormous relief. Now she pulled and maneuvered them into position on their backs so that she could grab hold of the collars of their uniforms, one in each hand, and stooped over, began to drag them toward the stairs.

They were lighter than they looked for their height and musculature.

Imogen only reached Pren's shoulder, but she was pretty sure she weighed more, even though she was thin by Earth standards after two months in captivity. A difference in bone and muscle density, she guessed.

She was just grateful it made it possible for her to drag two adults by herself, however awkwardly.

At least the floor was smooth, and they slid in her wake easily.

The ten minutes Paxe had given her to evacuate the prisoners had long come and gone by the time she reached the stairs. And she couldn't ask for an update. Could do nothing but continue on as if it were still possible for Kalor and Pren to get on their ship.

She was breathing hard, and her hair was damp with sweat at her temples. She bent over, hands on knees to get her breath, and then decided she'd have to carry Pren up the stairs, and ask for help from Captain Kalor's colleagues to move him, because she didn't think she could get him up herself.

She turned her head to look at him as she straightened.

He was beautiful.

Her brain kept telling her it was so unlikely, there had to be a mistake after everything she'd been through, everything she'd seen up until now.

Finding someone who looked so human was surely impossible.

But Pren was beautiful, too.

Her features were more delicate than Kalor's but she had the same high forehead, the same spiky hair and the pointed ears.

Imogen crouched down beside her and hefted her up and over her shoulder in a fireman's lift, using the wall to help lever herself to a standing position.

She was breathing hard, and she hadn't even started up the stairs.

One step at a time, she told herself. That was the best she could do.

She staggered over to the stairwell door, half fell through it, and then used the wall of the stairwell to help as she stepped, breathed, stepped again.

When she got to the top and laid Pren down, she didn't know how much time had gone by, but guessed it was at least another ten minutes.

She straightened and stretched out her aching muscles, then pulled Pren as fast as she could toward the launch bay. She was halfway there when a drone swooped up from behind her.

“You're all right!” Paxe spun the drone around her, as if doing a 360 degree check. “When the drone's lens showed a Krik and then cut out . . .”

“Yes. The whip saved me again.” Imogen blinked away tears of relief and massaged her aching shoulder. “Please take Pren to the launch bay. Are the Tecran here yet?”

“Yes.” The drone levered Pren into the box. “Captain Kalor's UC vessel is still in the launch bay waiting for them, and they've had a window of calm as the Tecran are observing the ships leaving. It's given them some time, but they don't have more than a few minutes left before the Tecran will assume everyone who is going to come out has already done so.”

“Okay, well get Pren there, at least.”

She turned and ran toward the stairs again, taking them two or three at a time.

When she burst out the bottom, she tripped and fell over Kalor, landing across his chest and only just getting her hands out in time to break her fall. He'd been moved, or maybe had dragged himself forward.

He grunted, and she turned her head to look at him.

“You're conscious!” She pushed herself off him and placed her feet on either side of his hips, held out a hand to him. “Come on. You need to hurry.”

He hesitated, his eyes narrowed.

“The Tecran are attacking. Your ship is waiting for you.”

“Where's Pren?” He sounded so suspicious, she flinched.

“I just carried her up two flights of stairs. Come on!” She thrust out her hand again.

A noise in the stairwell had her turning, hand going to the small of her back where she'd shoved the whip. But it was the drone.

“Captain Kalor isn't fully recovered. Get him in the box and then go, go, go!” She stepped to the side, crouching to get her hands under his arms to lift him, but the drone didn't lower itself to the ground.

“It's too late,” Paxe told her in English. “They've gone.”

“They can't have gone, their captain is still here.”

“Someone called Vraen made the decision over the objections of the rest of the crew.”

Imogen realized Kalor was weakly pushing her away and she let him go, straightened and stepped back. “Oh. The Garmman. I thought he was an asshole from the moment I met him.”

What sounded like a laugh came from the drone. “I like you, Imogen.”

Imogen looked down at Captain Kalor, at the suspicion and anger on his face. Sighed. “You might be the only one in this galaxy who does.”

* * *

“
W
hat did
you use against me?” Feeling was coming back to Cam's limbs, and the debilitating weakness was slowly retreating, but with it came a bone-deep chill that made him stiff and achy. “That wasn't shockgun fire.”

Imogen crouched down beside him again, her eyes big, her expression worried. “No. It's a weapon I found in the store. An electric whip.” She held it out to him.

He stared at it without touching, even though he could see she meant for him to take it for a better look. When she drew back, he knew she'd picked up his rebuff, her features closing into blank neutrality, instead of the open friendliness of before.

He tried to shove the guilt that rose up in him back into the hardest part of his heart, but it stubbornly wouldn't go.

She stood again, held out her hand for a second time. “You think you can stand now?”

Behind her, the drone she'd been talking to in what he guessed was her own language had settled out of hover mode on to its wheels, and something about the way it moved made him think it was back to being a plain old drone again, rather than an avatar for the thinking system.

He surprised himself by actually taking her hand, and was even more surprised when she levered him up with far more strength than she looked capable of.

“I'm sorry, but your ship's left without you.”

He frowned. “What do you mean? We're not prisoners any more?”

Suddenly, the whole ship tilted at an extreme angle, and they were both thrown to the ground.

Cam managed to twist as he fell, landing first and taking some of Imogen's weight with a grunt as their limbs tangled together. They slid along the floor until the ship leveled out again.

“Did you say the Tecran were attacking, earlier?” He'd barely been listening, had been trying to work out how he'd gotten to a completely different part of the ship, and where Pren was.

She nodded, her head in the curve of his neck. The feel of the smooth skin of her cheek rubbing against his throat was more pleasant than he wanted it to be and he clenched a fist that was somehow resting on her lower back.

“They're trying to get their ship back.”

“Are they attacking with another Class 5?” There were only two left, by his reckoning, now that Sazo had come over to the Grih, and Bane had aligned himself with Sazo. Technically, that meant they had both free Class 5s on their side. This one had obviously staged a mutiny of its own, which left two of the original five.

“I don't know any of the details.” She rolled off him, and what had been a sweet, warm weight lifted as she pulled herself into a crouch, both hands braced on the ground to steady herself.

He shivered. He hadn't realized until now how cold he felt. Whatever charge had come from the whip she'd used had chilled him to the bone even as it shocked him into unconsciousness.

A dart of movement caught his attention and he saw the drone was hovering again, keeping watch over them.

Over Imogen, rather.

He seriously doubted the Class 5 cared about him one way or another.

Which begged the question . . . “How come everyone was allowed to leave?”

She stood in a smooth movement that spoke of grace and control, widening her stance as if she expected another sharp dip. “Paxe let them go.”

“Paxe?” He wondered how much the thinking system had told her.

She tilted her head and watched him pull himself to his feet, her expression wary. “My guess is you know more about him than I do. I think Paxe shot you in the hold earlier to stop you trying to say something to me about him.”

Cam looked over at the drone and hesitated. He did not want to be shot again. Three times in a day was enough.

“He's not listening right now. My guess is he's got his hands full evading the Tecran attack.”

The ship tipped again, and Cam, not as balanced as she was, slid straight into her.

She grabbed his hands to steady him, and lifted her gaze up to his, shocked. “Your hands are freezing.” She rubbed her own hands over his, and the warmth was blissful.

“Something in that weapon of yours.” His teeth chattered as he spoke.

She closed her eyes, her expression pained. When she opened them again, he saw genuine regret.

“I'm really sorry. That Krik had just attacked me, and I thought there were more of them running around. After what they did when they took the Tecran runner I was on . . .” She swallowed hard. “I keep remembering the blood. The glee on their faces. When you snuck up on me, I reacted before I realized it was you.”

“We should have called out.” He'd been about to, he remembered now. Pren had moved faster than he thought she would, and he'd seen the terror on Imogen's face as she'd turned, then the dismay as she realized who was behind her. By then, she'd engaged her weapon.

He looked down at where she was still holding his hands in her own and realized the ship had remained steady. She followed his gaze and dropped her hold, and he wanted to reach out to her again, feel that wonderful heat.

“Things have gone quiet. Maybe Paxe got away from them. You could try to make a quick exit in one of the Krik's ships.” She started moving to the stairwell.

He followed her, frowning. “You're talking like I'd leave you here.”

She looked back over her shoulder. “I don't know if Paxe would let me go.”

Cam looked at the drone, which had flown over his head as he started climbing the stairs, hovering exactly between Imogen and himself. He couldn't be sure now if it was back under the thinking system's control or not. “Why wouldn't Paxe let you go?”

“He says I'm the only one who can help him. Although I'm not sure if he wants my help. So maybe it would be okay.”

“Why not just go?” He watched the drone as he made the suggestion.

She laughed. “If you think Paxe would let that happen without discussion, maybe I
do
know more about him than you do.” She looked back at him again, and something in his gut tightened as he saw the look on her face. “He's killed almost two ships worth of crews. He would shoot any ship I was on without a second thought if he didn't want me to leave.”

“If he shot the ship you were on, he could kill you. Why would he do that if he wanted you?”

“Because I'm a very good shot, Captain.” The drone sank down a little, so the lens was level with his eyes. Cam knew the thinking system was studying him intently. “I would be quite happy to simply disable the ship and bring it back in.”

“And will you? Will you force her to stay here?”

The drone didn't answer, it rose up and flew ahead, held open the door for Imogen when she reached the top, and let it swing shut before he got there.

He pushed it open, but when the drone took up its place between them again, he said nothing more. The lightheadedness, and the chill in his very core, were lessening, but he still wasn't himself, and he needed to concentrate on breathing and moving to keep up.

When he got to the launch bay, it was empty of people, but there were a number of Krik ships clipped into place, some of them clearly stolen from other UC nations.

“Can he leave?” Imogen turned to the drone to ask her question.

She looked exhausted, Cam realized. She arched her back, as if it hurt, and rubbed stiff fingers along her temples.

“Yes, although the Tecran may try to kill him. They're within firing range.”

“Why aren't they firing, then?” Cam couldn't hide the suspicion in his tone.

The drone turned to face him, lowering itself to the floor and settling down on its wheels. “They don't want to damage their Class 5.” There was amusement in that voice. “It cost a great deal to build, and it represents something to them, something I haven't quite worked out, but whatever it is, it prevents them from destroying it.”