In Enemy Hands (23 page)

It seemed she and Srin could live or die now at another’s whim. What a terrible way to live a life, she thought sadly. But that was still in the future. Right now, they were safe and dry, huddled together against the cold. Srin brushed her again and she felt a shiver of awareness set fire to her skin.

Slowly, she unzipped her pants, peeling them off her legs one at a time until she felt the rough, cold concrete beneath her.

“What are you doing?” Srin’s voice sounded harsh. His hand reached out and touched Moon’s bare thigh. “Moon?”

She shifted, lifting one leg over where she thought Srin was, hitting his right knee. He extended that leg immediately—she heard his heel slide along the pipe’s interior—and held her waist as he guided her down across his lap.

“I’m getting a sense of perspective,” she said. “A reason to keep going.”

She searched for, found, his lips with a questing fingertip. And kissed him.

Heaven again, and she forgot the chill against her knees. Grabbing his hands, she forced them under her top. They were cold and invigorating against her heated flesh.

Srin needed little additional urging. He massaged her breasts, seeking out her nipples with his thumbs, pressing them against his hands until they hardened into sensitive, aroused peaks.

She pushed her body forward while she entered his mouth with her tongue. Eyes open or closed, it didn’t matter in the absolute darkness. The sense of touch was supreme in their small, underground shelter. Her tongue ran along the even edge of his teeth as she fumbled with his trousers, then his cock sprang free, already half-erect. It wasn’t a monstrously long organ, but it was thick and smooth and Moon ran her fingers over it lovingly, stroking the head until she felt a bead of lubrication at its tip. Taking the moisture onto her finger, she broke away from the kiss and slowly guided her finger to his mouth. The exhalation of Srin’s breath was hot against her digit, then his lips engulfed her and he licked himself off her.

Moon groaned and lifted herself before ruthlessly settling on Srin’s erection. She was so wet, it only took two strokes for her to take him in completely, her groin resting against his. She loved the feeling of Srin inside her, stretching her, and she squeezed against him. With her hands on his shoulders, she began moving, sliding up and down while he pinched her nipples and softly bit her through the material of her clothes.

The sounds of their lovemaking seemed loud in the subterranean cavern, but they were little more than groans and choked moans, accompanied by the scrape of limbs and slither of clothes against the uneven texture of the concrete.

She didn’t feel cold anymore. Instead, Moon felt the heated blood rushing through her arteries, warming the ends of her toes and the tips of her fingers. In the darkness, she heard the pounding of her heart, a frantic staccato, as she mercilessly rode Srin.

“Moon…”

Srin’s voice was strangled, his fingers searching out her sex. Moon pulled his hands to one side and kept riding him, not resting until he reached orgasm with a shuttered cry. Convulsing, he emptied himself into her. She continued milking him, squeezing and relaxing against him, until he tore his hands free from hers and stilled her hips.

“You,” he whispered. “You didn’t…”

She kissed him, hard, on the lips. “You owe me,” she said. “And I mean to collect.”

They rested, even their light touches against each other more intimate, more meaningful, in the dark. Then, without a word, they dropped back to the tunnel floor and kept walking.

The tunnel met up with another network through which Srin led them with only the occasional pause to get his bearings at branching tunnels. They continued for what seemed like an eternity until Moon noticed a brighter glow coming from the ceiling some distance ahead. Soon enough she could make out the light source—a shaft. When they got under the opening, she saw that it was capped by what had to be a circular lid punctuated by holes that let sunshine in. It was daytime, then. They must have walked through the night.

The sunlight lit the edges of the utilitarian rungs that led up to the lid and

Moon sighed. Getting down into the tunnel complex had been easy enough—Srin had been in full control of his physical reactions then—but the trip upwards was going to be…difficult. She glanced over at her lover. She had been right. Savic had changed the drug dosage and Srin was already suffering the after-effects. The tremors wracking his body were frequent and unstoppable but there was no choice. They
had
to get out. They had to get to a comms station. It was their only hope.

Looking down, she flexed her forearms. They had no choice, they had to do this. “Srin.” She grabbed him and forced him to look at her. It was a small mercy that his face was still swathed in darkness. She thought her heart would break if she clearly read the suffering on his face. “Srin, we’ve got to go up.” She shook him gently to emphasise her point. “Up. Do you understand?”

He didn’t answer but nodded in a jerky fashion.

“You go first, but I’ll be right behind you, supporting you.”

Srin shuffled to the rungs, put his hands on the first rung…and waited. Moon, biting her lip, said nothing.

Then, with immense effort, he pulled himself up and she breathed a sigh of relief as his feet cleared the floor. Quickly, she moved up below him, making sure he could feel the contact of her body against the backs of his calves. Slowly, with many pauses, they ascended the shaft.

The next challenge came when they reached the last handful of rungs. Moon knew Srin was pushing himself to the limit and had no strength to shove against the heavy metal lid above them. With a tug on his trousers and pats against his legs, she managed to move him to the very edge of the cold metal treads, then cautiously stepped up to his level, struggling to ease the lid out of position. It finally moved out of its niche with a loud grating sound, showering them with a brief rain of pulverised rock and rust. The height of the sun in the sky that beat down on Moon’s head—and the glare in her eyes—told her it was some time in the afternoon.

They were no more than two hundred metres from a town. A mining operation, by the looks of it. Except for a huge warehouse, the buildings were smaller and older than those of the spaceport city near which they’d landed the day before. None of the buildings were more than three stories high, and the place appeared to be largely abandoned. Moon was about to assume the town was completely deserted when she spied the glint of a flyer’s exhausts just beyond the corner of a wall. Was the place still inhabited? She would need to be cautious.

She pulled herself out of the tunnel as quickly as she could, helping a shivering Srin after her, then kicked the circular lid back into place.

In the unforgiving light, Srin’s face was drawn and pasty and his hair was slick with perspiration. Moon didn’t need to hear his laboured breathing to know he was in pain; she could see it in his clouded grey eyes. Damn that bastard, Savic. She was sorry there wasn’t a chance to kill him before she left the
Differential
.

She had been debating her next move, hoping that she’d have just one more day of her usual Srin before he began deteriorating, but now she had no choice. She desperately needed help. With no time to think of any alternate plans, there was only one person she could turn to.

“Lean on me,” she told him. “We’ve got to get down to the camp.”

“I…don’t…think….”

“You can’t leave me like this, Srin,” she hissed through gritted teeth. She knew it wasn’t his fault, but she needed him to fight the shivering and the fever for as long as possible. “Not after all the planning we’ve done. Not after we’ve made it this far. Come on.”

He let her take his right arm and sling it over her shoulders while he cradled his middle with his left. He was so obviously in pain, but they couldn’t stop now.

Over the faint whistle of wind and the rattle of loose sheets of metal, Moon heard the muted sound of conversation. While they looked neglected from a distance, close up the buildings showed signs of maintenance. Soldering repairs gleamed a dull silver against the brown-red of the walls and the windows contained their full complement of glass. Occasionally, they passed a shed half-concealing newer-looking equipment, protective paint still adhering to the metal panels.

Stumbling, they made it into the town. Moon was working up the courage to enter a building and ask for the loan of a comms console when she heard the downdraft of a vehicle in the direction of the main street. She left Srin leaning against a wall, shivering and sweating, while she ran to the nearest corner and peered around it.

Damn, but it was one of the
Differential
’s shuttles! The door opened and a figure stepped out briskly. Drue! And he didn’t look happy. Moon ducked back out of sight and swore under her breath. It was too far back to the maintenance shaft and over open ground. They’d be spotted for sure. She took a couple of steadying gulps of air and hurried back to where she left Srin, trying every door she could find along the way.

Finally, one door on the opposite side of the lane creaked open. It was the entrance to a storage shed, ancient and dilapidated. Moon half carried Srin over to it, blindly shoving him through the doorway and up against a wall. She quietly closed the door.

The only source of light was a window with a thick coating of grime and dust inside and out. Barely enough light filtered through for Moon to make out a jumble of canvas-covered shapes and metal scraps, rods and containers scattered around the room. She helped Srin along the wall and behind the nearest large shape—a shrouded cube about the size of a desk. She swiftly piled scraps of this and that atop the cube, to help shield them from the view of anyone who might look into the shed.

“It’s Drue,” she whispered to her companion, crouching beside him and hunching over to make herself appear smaller. She pulled Srin’s jacket over his head, to make it look like he was nothing but a discarded sack of something. “We got here just before a search party did. If we’re lucky, and stay still, they might restrict themselves to the major buildings.”

Moon didn’t know if Srin heard a word of what she said. In the dusty shafts of light that arrowed into the small room, she could see that his eyes were dilated. His breathing was rapid and shallow. He vibrated beneath her touch like a drop of water on a hot plate. Trying to keep him away from anything that might tip over, she pressed against him, keeping a firm grip on his hands.

“Hold on,” she told him. “They’ll be gone soon. Just hold on.”

She heard voices close by, but couldn’t make out the words. Then the shadows of two people fell across the dirty window, blocking the sunlight.

Please walk past, she mouthed soundlessly. Please walk past. Please—

The door creaked, then opened with a shudder.

“—I’ll check in here.”

She knew that voice. Drue Jeen.

Moon’s entire body turned to ice. She looked up through a mesh of metal scraps, tins and rods, willing Drue to look quickly around—at eye level, then up at the ceiling—and leave. He looked haggard and angry, his usually immaculate hair ruffled, as if he had repeatedly run his hands through it. Despite their positions on opposite sides of the Republic fence, Moon felt sorry for him.

He glanced at the ceiling, and then at the haphazard shelves against the back wall. Then he dropped his gaze—

—and met Moon’s.

She froze, too scared to utter even a squeak of dismay. His gaze locked with hers for a second, then flicked past her to take in Srin’s shivering form. Even under the jacket’s bulk, it must have been obvious who was with her.

What was he thinking? Moon couldn’t tell. The expression on his face seemed carved there, impassive and permanent. They looked at each other again for several long seconds. Then, with slow deliberation, he backed out of the shed and closed the door. His shadow fell across the window, then disappeared.

Moon almost fainted with relief. Drue had just saved their lives.

Despite the reprieve, she remained stiffly in position, listening to occasional fragments of muffled conversations beyond the closed door. After a period of silence, she heard—and felt—the low rumble of what must have been the shuttle departing.

She felt under the jacket for Srin’s face. The fierce heat from his cheek threatened to scorch her fingers. She pushed back the jacket’s hood, but the shed was too cramped for her to remove it completely from him. With his full weight slumped sideways, she knew she only had strength to stagger outside with him, not guide him down a long or complicated route.

Hoping she was making the right decision, she left him, half-conscious and shivering while she eased out of the small hut. Whatever few inhabitants were still living in the ramshackle town would be on the alert for her now. Her best chance lay in getting her hands on some transport and heading north, away from the major population centres and the commercial spaceport.

She crept cautiously around the corners. At one point, her satchel banged against her back. She jumped—she’d forgotten about the bag—then closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. Everything now depended on her. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. Phase four of their escape had arrived with a solid bang. If Moon couldn’t find some way of keeping them clear of the troop sweeps, and get medical help for Srin at the same time, then they were done for.

The flyer she eventually found in an off-street parking space looked as old as the rest of the town but was still serviceable. It was fifty metres or so from what sounded like an informal eating house, its music carrying to where she stood. There were other, newer modes of transport here, parked on angles next to each other, but they were all palm-locked, keyed to their owner’s print and DNA. Only the small, faded flyer was unsecured, wires protruding from a jagged squarish hole where its lock panel should have been.

Moon climbed in, switched on the engine and carefully throttled the flyer out of the corral, heading back to the shed. A gauge indicated it was three-quarters full of fuel.

She kept the engine running as she fetched Srin, bundling him awkwardly into the seat beside her, not caring anymore how much noise she made. Speed was of the essence. With a brief look at the controls, she twisted the small craft left and headed north.

It was nighttime and Moon was colder than she had ever been in her life. The mining town was five hours behind them. She had been cruising steadily, trying to look like she was a native traveling on legitimate business. She eventually decided to set down at the third large town they approached, circling in low and landing in one of the rougher looking neighbourhoods on the northwestern fringe of the town. With any luck, the stolen flyer would blend straight into the urban destruction around them, ready for a quick getaway. Or, depending on how the call to Kad went, it might end up as a prize for some opportunistic thief.

The uncooperative navigation computer finally spat out the name of the place they had landed, after she punched at the console several times in frustration. She knew it was a sign of the stress she was under, but she couldn’t help herself. It felt good smacking an inanimate panel. Wessness. The name was faintly otherworldly, as though humans had displaced an alien community and twisted the original title into something they could pronounce.

Wessness was as dirty as the previous two places they had tracked through. There was the same scar of destruction running through the northwest district where Moon decided to take refuge. She saw figures skulking in the shadows but the half-anticipated attack did not occur. Maybe she and Srin looked like an addict and his girlfriend, part of the normal population in such locales, and so were left alone. Moon didn’t know, but she was happy for the sliver of peace. But the safety of a destroyed stretch of commercial buildings extracted its own price. It took her almost an hour of scouting, then shifting the flyer, from one broken street to another, before she found a comms booth that wasn’t vandalised into its component parts. An hour of watching Srin’s sweaty, shaky form convulse itself into spasms, while the high fever burnt him up.

Trembling, she peeled off the chip from where she’d hidden it, inside her shoe under her foot’s arch. The presence of that small square was slight but enough to make her feel a bit unbalanced the entire time she’d been on her feet. She was relieved to fish it out from under the shoe liner.

With trepidation, she shoved it into the too-big card slot. The screen threw up jagged lines of white before it cleared and a human face appeared. However, it was not the human face Moon was expecting to see.

“Galaxy Accounts. How may I help you?”

It was an AI, patched into the comms signal. Moon could tell the female looking back at her was a construct because the eyes were vacant-looking and the smile on her face never wavered. Considering the desolation in the street behind Moon, it should have.

Moon stared at the woman. A wrong number? After all she had been through, how could it be a wrong number? What was she going—

To add insult to injury, the screen blacked out at that moment. Moon was too exhausted to even react. Then it brightened again, and a familiar pair of marine-blue eyes stared back at her.

“Moon? What a pleasant surprise!”

She almost collapsed then, but fell forward instead, on hands she placed on either side of the small, dirty screen, pushing into the metal casing, using the discomfort against her palms to keep her alert. She had to be quick and quiet. The smoky privacy screen that normally surrounded a comms booth had been destroyed a long time ago. Some of the glass-like fragments still littered the ground around her, crunching underneath her shoes.