Enemy Within (20 page)

She dropped her chin to her chest and sucked in a harsh breath. Get a grip, Ari. She was seven seconds from condemning Augie and everyone on Kebgra to death, even assuming she could outrun Turrel. Granted, she knew far more about Kebgra than Seaghdh and his men. She could conceivably hide from them. But she had some evidence that she couldn’t hide from the mutated soldiers that had been sent after her.

Any question of playing hide-and-seek in the fields and forests of Kebgra evaporated as the engines ramped and lifted her from the ruins of her life. She closed her eyes on the thought that while she wasn’t shackled and neuro-locked, she was as much at someone else’s mercy as she had been the day the Chekydran had captured her.

A prisoner for three months, free for three months, and now, who knew? Was it better or worse that she’d walked into this captivity half willing?

They passed six thousand meters. She opened her eyes as Seaghdh’s copilot began a melodic, if disjointed, conversation with the Stalker Class cruiser in orbit.

Seaghdh glanced over his shoulder at Ari. Whatever he saw in her face made him frown. He turned back when the copilot spoke to him.

Funny. She’d have thought she’d catch his name when the copilot addressed him. But then, maybe she’d simply said “Captain.” The reference to his boss, the Queen’s Blade, that Ari caught. How bad a sign was it that the Auhrnok Riorchjan was aboard the Stalker? She’d heard plenty regarding his interrogation techniques. She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t get a firsthand demonstration.

Nodding at the information the copilot relayed, Seaghdh changed course. The Stalker looked knife-edge sharp hanging in space, sleek and deadly. They came in under the cover of her forward guns. Ari felt the shuttle hesitate as it passed through the outer shield layer. She sat up straighter and scanned the darkness visible through the viewports.

Nothing.

Yet the Claugh obviously expected something. From whom? Armada? They were inside the TFC border. They had to know the border sensors had alerted Command the moment they’d crossed out of the Buffer Zone. Or did they suspect Chekydran? This close to the Buffer Zone, they were a possibility.

A shimmy ran through the plating beneath her feet. Seaghdh and his copilot took their hands from the controls. Guidance beam. Interesting. Ship’s weapons and shields hot, but taking the time for shuttle guidance. Ari was sure it meant something, she just couldn’t work out what it might be. She supposed it meant that stealing a shuttle and making a break for it would be much harder with the little boats locked by guidance.

They set down in a shuttle bay, white and gray deck plates scorched by engine discharge. It looked like every other shuttle bay she’d ever seen. Just bigger. She waited until Seaghdh unhooked his harness and rose. Turrel and V’kyrri stood. All three men looked different, somehow. Worn, apprehensive. Like the worst was yet to come. They studiously avoided looking at her.

Seaghdh offered her a hand. She rose without it. The concern in his face deepened as he dropped his hand back to his side. Despite her challenging stare, he didn’t say anything, didn’t give any hint about what to expect.

He keyed open the hatch. Turrel and V’kyrri took position behind her. Showtime. Spine straight, chin high, she marched down the ramp before Seaghdh could order her escorted off the shuttle.

A woman in a stiff, khaki uniform, two conspicuously armed guards at either shoulder, stood at the bay door. Dark brown, curly hair, secured at her nape, gleamed like a criot pelt. She strode, fluid grace in every move, across the floor, smiled, and extended a hand. Ari could see the faint tracing of veins through her fair, freckled skin.

“Captain Idylle,” she said. Her accent turned Ari’s language into poetry. “I am so pleased you agreed to assist us. This cannot have been easy for you.”

Ari took the elegant woman’s hand and noted the grime embedded in her own skin. Her filthy, rumpled uniform reeked of death and fear. She’d killed one of her own crew today. Easy? Yeah. Thrice-damned hell of a day.

“I am Eilod Saoyrse.”

Ari’s breath stopped in her chest. The queen of the Claugh nib Dovvyth. By all that was holy, she was screwed.

“Captain Alexandria Idylle, madam,” she forced herself to reply. TFC didn’t have royalty, didn’t confer titles. She had no idea how to address the head of an enemy state. She’d never been trained as a politician. “I don’t know how I can help. You are already in possession of my debriefing files. I doubt I can add to them.”

“Someone believes you can, Captain,” the queen replied, releasing her. “If you didn’t represent a danger to someone important, you wouldn’t have been attacked.” Her gaze touched Turrel and V’kyrri, then moved farther left. Her smile deepened.

Ari felt Seaghdh beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him salute. He began speaking in his language, his words hurried and his tone urgent.

“Auhrnok Riorchjan,” the queen interrupted.

Ari froze. She knew that title. Auhrnok was obscure, a title of nobility, akin to lord. She couldn’t remember how she’d come to know its meaning. But every officer and grunt in the Armada knew Riorchjan, even if no one knew precisely what it meant. It belonged to Her Majesty’s spymaster. The Queen’s Blade. Judge, jury, executioner. The queen herself had just attached it to Cullin Seaghdh.

The blood drained from Ari’s head. Feeling sputtered and died in her heart.

“You have a great deal of explaining to do, Auhrnok,” Her Majesty snapped at Seaghdh. “You will not alienate our guest by speaking a language she does not understand.”

As the woman berated him, the devil-may-care man Ari had known seemed to dissolve. Someone honed and dangerous stood in his place. She’d caught glimpses of this over the past few days, noted the dichotomy and dismissed it. How could she have so ignored the cues?

She could neither cry nor laugh at her stupidity. At least it cleared up one question. He was undoubtedly real. Not even Chekydran mind-control drugs could concoct so far-fetched a scenario as the damaged Armada captain falling for the infamously manipulative Queen’s Blade.

Her heart clenched. Cravuul dung. Had she really?

Rage scorched the cobwebs from her brain. No. It had barely been three days during which she’d trusted Cullin Seaghdh because she’d had no choice. He’d done his job, using whatever means she’d offered him to pry her away from her family. He’d exploited her need for approval, her desire to be a part of something, her attraction to him. She gritted her teeth. It was all a lie, and she’d played right into his hands.

Fine. He’d played her. Just like she’d played him on the energy blade floor. Or had she? She cast a sidelong glance at that long, lean fencer’s body and shivered. Had she ever dueled the top-ranked blade master? He’d asked her that. She’d said no, not realizing she just had. Evidence suggested, by virtue of the fact that she was a prisoner again and her captor had gotten her to walk into his trap willingly, that she’d been played from the moment Cullin Seaghdh had taken her father’s ship.

Straightening, Ari focused on the woman watching her so keenly.

“Congratulations, Auhrnok Riorchjan,” Ari said. The placid, even tone of her voice pleased her. “Match to you.”

“Ari,” he grated, warning in his tone.

“No, no,” she said, glancing at him. She strangled the chagrin trying to rise within her at the pain in his face and turned her eyes front. “Masterfully won. I now understand the distinction between first and second rank. I concede. Your skill far outstrips mine.”

He growled.

Her Majesty glanced between them, trouble flickering across her features for a moment. “Captain Idylle, quarters have been prepared—”

“You wanted my help,” Ari interrupted. “A shower and a change of clothes are all I need.” She would
not
ask what they intended to do with her. “We don’t have time for anything else. Armada beacons registered your presence in TFC space two hours ago. If my commanders aren’t lighting up your com panels, it’s because my ship, with my former first officer commanding, is en route to begin knocking impolitely at your front door.”

Eilod Saoyrse opened her mouth, then closed it, staring.

Ari reached for her handheld.

The guards twitched.

Glaring at them, Ari unclipped the device in slow motion. When she offered it to the queen, Seaghdh took it. Ari refused to look at him.

“You’ll find a com badge code,” she said. “Bring it aboard. It may require some overrides on your teleporters. ’Port directly to containment.”

The woman blinked, looking momentarily flustered. Drawing herself up, she smiled again. “Thank you, Captain. What are we teleporting?”

“The corpse of Lt. Tommy Heisen.”

“A compatriot?”

“Six months ago, yes. After time spent with the Chekydran, no. He was one of their soldiers.”

Eilod sucked in a sharp breath and her green eyes lit. “One hour!” she commanded, pointing at Seaghdh. “Clean up. Report to medical. Captain Idylle, I insist that you submit to a full medical scan. This is for your protection as well as ours. When it is complete, I expect you both in Conference One.”

“I recommend completing teleport before the
Balykkal
arrives.”

“It’s not that simple,” Seaghdh rumbled. It sounded like he had his teeth clenched.

Ari looked at him. Muscles bunched up in his jaw, anger in the set of his lips. Good. Why, then, did her gut twist and demand she smooth away the lines in his forehead? Manipulative bastard.
Focus, Ari
. He’d said they couldn’t teleport Tommy. She frowned.

“This is a Stalker Class cruiser,” she said.

“Yes.”

“With a sizeable science team.”

“Yes.”

Ari lifted her hands from her sides and dropped them again. “They’ll understand containment.”

Seaghdh scowled. “They should, yes . . .”

“Containment isn’t independent of ship’s systems?” she surmised, resisting the urge to smack her palm to her forehead. She should have known. TFC hadn’t begun designing containment independent of ship’s grid until after the Occaltus disaster. The Claugh hadn’t yet been forced to learn from bad luck. “Fine. Call in the
Sen Ekir
.”

“Not possible.”

“We both know that between Dad, Pietre, and Sindrivik, the IntCom files have been disabled,” she countered. “They have control of the ship.”

Seaghdh glanced at the queen, then back at Ari. He cleared his throat. “That isn’t the issue, Captain.”

“They have the containment system you need, Seaghdh,” she prodded, “and an exemplary team. Explain to my father. He won’t believe you until he cuts into Tommy and finds all that Chekydran tech adapted to Armada specifications. When he does, he’ll understand. He’s worked privileged information before.” Ari hesitated, examining him to see if she couldn’t discern some hint of intent in his face.

“Unless those of us involved are slated to simply disappear,” she said. “Then I do prefer you leave Dad out of it. You might even be able to trade me back to the Chekydran and let them finish the job they started if you don’t wish to be personally guilty of my murder.”

Eilod Saoyrse chuckled. The real amusement in the sound baffled Ari. “I’ll thank the two of you to leave your personal baggage at the air lock door. We have a Chekydran-backed problem that seems to be growing in threat and complication by the moment. Captain Idylle, can you work with Captain Seaghdh?”

Could she? How about would she? Swallowing ire, she nodded. “If I can be forgiven the occasional cheap shot? Yes, ma’am. I’ll work with whoever it takes to stop the Chekydran and their allies.”

“Excellent.” The queen turned on her heel and quit the bay.

“Ari,” Seaghdh essayed, reaching for her. “Let me explain.”

Without thinking, she sidestepped his grasp and pinned him with a hard glare. “No need. It’s all perfectly clear.”

Something chirped. He activated a com badge she’d missed seeing. She didn’t catch a word of the conversation.

He closed his eyes and rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Damn it, Ari.” He sighed, wiped the pain from his face, and straightened. “Turrel. Escort Captain Idylle to medical. I will relieve you.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“V’kyrri, with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Seaghdh thrust the handheld back into her grasp and stalked out of the bay, anger in every line of his body. V’kyrri followed, but not before he tossed a disquieted glance at her and looked like he wanted to say something. He pressed his lips tight, nodded, and jogged after Seaghdh.

“Baxt’k.”

“Yeah,” Turrel rumbled. “Politics. What a group baxt’k.”

She eyed the big man standing next to her with his arms crossed and the hint of a smirk on his face. “Rank?”

“Colonel.”

“Ground forces,” Ari said.

“Different military entirely. At least, I was.”

Until someone in her government had ordered the slaughter of his people. Ari sighed. Staying pissed off at Seaghdh would have been a lot easier if he’d lied about everything.