Resistance: Hathe Book One (9 page)

“
Another abandoned Lieger? Your step-cousin, it seems, my
dear.” She was unable to answer him, her throat too full. Suddenly,
with a strength the Terran did not expect, she flung herself away
from him and into the shoulder of her childhood friend.

“
Jaca, forgive me. I can save you if I answer their questions,
but I can’t,” she pleaded in their own tongue.

At
first there was no lessening, no giving way in her oldest friend.
Then he looked down into her face. What he saw, she couldn’t say,
but there was a tightening of his mouth and he met her eyes for the
first time. “Hush, Mimi. It’s all right, I understand. The Terran
has been playing his games with you?” She nodded. “Don’t worry,
he’s probably bluffing. The depths of Hathe keep you safe,” he
managed to add before they were pulled roughly apart.

The
Major dragged Marthe towards him, pinioning her arms behind her as
he harshly ordered that Jacquel be taken out.

“
Very touching, madame, but I do not bluff. Whatever your
friend
may say.” He spoke in Harmish—just to remind her of
his fluency, she didn’t doubt. “And don’t count on des Trurain’s
value as a prisoner. I am fully aware that he is potentially as
useful as you, but I need information now. If one of you must be
killed to make the other talk, then so be it. Sadly for des
Trurain, he doesn’t possess the advantage of your sex, and so he
will be the sacrifice. I need the information you hold and I will
do anything to get it.”

“
You’re mistaken. I know nothing of use to you.”

“
I
don’t think so. In half an hour, unless you start talking, des
Trurain dies. You see the red light there?” She nodded. “When that
goes out, so does he.”

Marthe
stared, transfixed. She did not move, not a muscle, not an eye, for
the entire half hour allowed, staring intently at the light and
willing it to stay red.

“
Five seconds to go. Well?”

Slowly, as if in pain, she shook her head. The light went
dead. It was over. She slumped to her feet, silent tears cascading
down her cheeks.

A long
while later, she looked up.

“
I
grew up with Jaca,” she said as if in a dream. “I dare say that one
day we would have married. Now I’ve killed him.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Hamon
said nothing, turning abruptly and walking from the room. It was
many hours before he could bring himself to return. He knew he
should have pressed the attack while she was vulnerable; every
single thing he had ever learnt told him he must. He refused to
listen. There was nothing under the stars that could have made him
keep questioning her then, not with that sheer human misery in her
eyes. Nor could he forget her words as the light signaled the death
of Jacquel des Trurain.

“
We
would have married…”

Haunted by her face, he spent the day searching through the
files for every piece of information he could find on the Hathian
man. Maybe in knowledge of his enemy, he could find a justification
for his actions.
Or relief from your guilt,
jibed the silent
thought.

He was
not to be so lucky. Despite his hopes, it was an intriguing picture
that emerged. On the one hand, des Trurain seemed to be nothing
more than an irresponsible sprig of his world’s political elite,
ready at any time to join in with the more daring of the juvenile
pranks of his friends—among whom, he noted in particular, Bendin
asn Castre and his twin sister, Marthe. So, she had been honest
there. Even through the spare lines of the news reports, he caught
an image of a close threesome. If one was mentioned, so were the
other two. A triplet of bright young things, eager for whatever
adventures their world could offer.

But
that was too simplistic a picture of Marthe, and it seemed the same
was true of des Trurain. The man had been active in student
politics and was also a highly regarded scholar of history—his
particular area of interest the early development of the modern
Alliance, that loose confederation of the planets that had been
settled long ago by people from Earth.

Hamon
cringed as he read des Trurain’s work, with its caustic analysis of
the warmongering prevalent in pre-Alliance societies. He couldn’t
fail to recognize how the current actions of his own people
repeated the time-worn cycle of greed and conquest.

It was
a relentless and unforgiving academic self-flagellation, but he
forced himself to persevere. He must understand des Trurain.
Perhaps in understanding Marthe’s friend—he refused to grant the
man any closer name— he would find an explanation for his own
turmoil. How had he come to be in sole and vicious charge of one
proud and learned woman who deserved to be pitied more than
tormented, whatever the truth might be? He knew all the clichéd
reasons, but his own, more personal ones … were they good
enough?

Grimly, he brought up screen after screen of damning records.
Was he seeking justification for his present actions or escape from
the burden of his Terran birthright—a heritage that seemed to
promise only pain and dishonor whichever path he chose? Whatever
Marthe asn Castre might be to him, she was also the key to this
planet. She alone could deliver the secret to securing the
quantities of urgonium Earth needed so desperately. He had to
continue his plan, must believe that success would soon be in his
grasp … if he could but live with himself for long
enough.

He
returned to his apartment, heavy-hearted and angry. He’d undertaken
a project in good faith, and whose fault was it but his own that
he’d not foreseen the consequences? He passed through the doorway
with a quick check of the security lock then looked through the
lounge towards the balcony.

There
was no sign of his prisoner.

He
checked all the rooms, hurrying into the bedroom to see if she’d
managed to bypass the controlling fields cloaking the apartment and
fall asleep. No sign of her. Panic goading him, he activated his
screen, ordering a heat sensor scan of every room.

There,
in the service cupboard.

So,
her grief was not too deep to stop her trying to escape. He moved
swiftly, warily alert, slamming the door opener and erupting into
the cupboard. Then came to an abrupt halt. Marthe was there, still
sleep deprived but not trying to flee. Her elegant shift covered by
an old tunic of his, she was occupied in nothing so extraordinary
as that. Instead, she was mundanely emptying the contents of the
rubbish bin into a recycling chute.

“
What are you up to?”

“
Cleaning the apartment, of course. Since you see fit to
imprison me here, you’ve had to forgo the usual cleaning maid. And
while you may fancy living in filth, I do not.”

“
My
apologies. I didn’t realize a Lieger would notice such
things.”

She
ignored his deliberate use of the insulting Lieger, instead of the
more proper Haut Liege. But he knew she had heard it.

“
It
is years since I had servants to attend to such matters. I learned
very quickly after you Terrans arrived that if I wanted my
surroundings to remain in an acceptable state, I would have to do
it myself.”

“
Then you have my permission to continue, and my thanks, but I
should point out that it won’t get you back on the rations list,
though the stars know you look as though you need it.”

She
looked ready to claw his eyes out at the reminder of what must by
now be serious hunger. She had free access to water, but that alone
wouldn’t stave off what must be a very empty stomach. Yet she
refused to give him the satisfaction of a reply, glaring her
resentment as she brushed past him to continue with her work. A
pity. A fight was just what he needed. Anything to bury his guilt.
He caught her by the wrists and held up her hands, noting
triumphantly the fresh burn marks on her palms.

“
So
you had come in here to check whether my security fields covered
this entrance. Even on such short acquaintance, you should know me
better. You’ll be sore all over soon. How are your other
burns?”

He
reached out to feel her stomach but stopped when he saw her flinch.
Ignoring her curt comment that she was rather better qualified than
he in medical matters, he drew off the tunic and lifted the shift
to inspect her skin. A pink flush only remained of the angry burn
marks. “Good. I would hate to mar such a beautiful
body.”

Suddenly, unable to stop himself, he pulled her into his arms
and for one crazy instant gave release to this misplaced passion of
his, this mad aberration that he knew not whether to curse or
welcome.

And
for one moment only, his kiss caught her unawares and he felt her
response. There was warmth and a haven here and, buried deep within
him, a long-neglected core of need flared up and demanded
satisfaction. He could swear it was echoed in the pressure of her
lips on his, her body clinging for one joyous moment to
his.

For
one moment only. The defensive shell she hid behind was too strong,
forged in fires he could only guess at. He felt her fight to
restore her self-control and saw the struggle on her face as she
sought to hide her desire for him, before pulling angrily
away.

Hamon
watched as she jerked the shift to rights again, attempting to
cover the telltale signs of her response. Disappointment wavered
with amusement inside him at her abrupt change of attitude, and a
sad wish rose in him: If only they had met under other
circumstances. As it was, he feared sleeplessness and hunger would
overcome her before he could achieve any of his goals, personal or
professional. It was not something he dared consider, and he too
sought safety in retreat. Hamon was too vulnerable here. Only the
Major was safe.

He let
a practiced grin lift the planes of his face. “It seems, madame,
that this forced intimacy may be more enjoyable than either of us
had expected.”

“
Enforced by you, Major; and you can spare me further
exhibitions of your much vaunted talent for seduction.” Another
angry tug at her shift. “You may think to flatter your ego by
adding a true Hathian Lady to the list of unfortunate women who
have been lured into your keeping, hoping to find a man behind the
tricks. But I am awake to you and owe too much to the memory of
what your race has done to mine. Leave me be!”

“
But
you would be quite one of the most desirable I have kept,” he
teased. “And who, may I ask, taught you to think of me in such
unflattering terms? Your friend, des Trurain?”

“
He
always was a good judge of character.”

“
Then it’s a blessing he is no more. You seem to have had far
too good an opinion of the man.” He put his hands on her hips to
tug her close, his touch gentle despite his intentions. He managed
to at least school his face into grim resolve. “I spent a
considerable part of the day searching the records for his details.
If you ask me, the universe is well rid of him. Which reminds me,
madame: fifty others detained wore those unusual patches. They must
also be disposed of. One a day, until you start to talk, if you
remember.”

She
pulled back, the blush on her face and deliciously peaked breasts
giving the lie to her defiant glare. “You, sir, must be the most
callous man it has ever been my misfortune to encounter. To kill
innocent people because they use a common wound dressing is
ridiculous. And all to extract non-existent information from one
very much abandoned Haut Liege, not much better than a peasant
herself. What a waste!”

“
You’re lying, just as you lie when you claim to be
indifferent to me. Perhaps you hope I’m bluffing. Do not. All those
so innocent people will die. One by one, a day at a time, for as
long as you maintain this stubborn silence.” He stared at her,
trying by sheer will power to break through her shell. It didn’t
work. He lifted his hands from her hips in disgust, and escorted
her over to the table.

Marthe
had no choice but to sit in the proffered chair. He was just too
strong for her. Or rather, for the pampered Haut Liege Lady she
must appear to be. Once again, she was forced to watch as he slowly
worked his way through a tempting array of gourmet delights. Always
the dishes were just out of reach, but close enough to set off her
digestive juices. And, again, her night afforded little rest. At
irregular periods she was jerked awake by the hated force field.
Some time during those long, dark stretches of loneliness, a dismal
hopelessness crashed down on her. She couldn’t withstand such
treatment forever. One day, soon, she would talk, and there was
nothing she could do to stop it.

Next
morning, she once more watched the inhuman red light, waiting for
the off signal. Who was the unknown man she condemned? Did he have
a family, waiting somewhere for his long spell of duty to end? Or
did anyone really die? Truth to tell, she wasn’t convinced. The
extinguishing of a light seemed so far removed from the reality of
a life gone.

As it
was, she missed the crucial moment. Her eyes closed and she sank
into blessed sleep. The harsh voice of her captor jerked her
back.

“
That is two you now have on your conscience, and forty-nine
still alive. How much longer can such indifference
last?”