Rystani Warrior 04 - The Quest (3 page)

“IF YOU DON’T SELL slaves, why did you ask what price I’d bring?” Kirek didn’t budge from his stance or his determination to remain free.

Some issues weren’t debatable and slavery was one of them. Seven years ago, at the mention of anyone selling him, he wouldn’t have been able to restrain his seething temper. But after a good part of a decade spent traveling through the galaxy, he’d healed from his time spent on Endeki, where he’d been a hostage and suffered at the hands of a woman with an unusual taste for cruelty.

While Captain Angel Taylor might be space-hardened, she didn’t emit a cruel psi, at least from what his own blast-damaged one could pick up. Kirek found his new handicap tiresome and limiting but reminded himself that until the last century, most of humanity never had more to go on than he did right now—his instincts.

Angel stared hard at him, and while her tone had an edge, it was cut with understanding. “I asked what they would pay for you to learn your value to them. And,” she continued, grinning, “to see if my threat would make you answer my question.”

He couldn’t help admiring the way she thought. A good brain always attracted him as much as a pleasing face and a toned body. Angel seemed to have both. Taller than Tessa, a Terran woman who lived with his family on Mystique, their new home world, Angel’s slender frame still showed enough curves in her dark green suit to make him appreciate that he was back in his body, even if he was damaged.

Eight years ago, while astral projecting, Kirek had been caught in a wormhole explosion. His mind had been blasted out the far end of the wormhole, all the way into the Zin Galaxy. It had taken him seven years to return—eight, if he counted the reintegration of his mind with the body machines had meticulously kept alive, thanks to huge efforts from family and friends.

After his reintegration, doctors had warned repeatedly that his psi remained fragile and told him that his body couldn’t handle astral extension again anytime soon without risking his life. So his injured psi, which had once been one of the most powerful in the Federation, had been reduced to what others considered a normal level. While he still had the unique ability to prevent scans of his body from registering on machines, he hadn’t been able to hide from Angel, and he didn’t know why. She shouldn’t have known he was there, waiting for her or another scavenger ship to transport him to Dakmar undercover.

Her finding him necessitated a change in plans. During Kirek’s astral extension into the Andromeda Galaxy, he’d found the Zin home world, the beings who had tried to wipe out the Federation with a virus. With his powerful psi, Kirek had learned the Zin still planned to invade. Unfortunately, his psi touch had made the Zin aware of his presence. So he’d stayed away from Mystique and those who could help him in fear that the Zin would find him.

But the Zin were probably now hunting him through other races. His cover was blown. In order to continue his mission, he needed to meet his contact on Dakmar and disappear again.

Now, Angel had found him. Without his extraordinary powers, he had to rely on his eyes and his ears and his intellect to convince her to give him a ride.

What he’d seen so far of Captain Angel Taylor pleased him. He liked her risk-taking attitude mixed with a cautious practicality. He liked that after she’d realized she’d touched a nerve, she’d admitted her threat to sell him had been a bluff. He liked her smarts. He most decidedly liked her intelligent green eyes that set off her straight nose and full lips to perfection. She also attracted him, which was not unusual for a man who hadn’t had sex in almost a decade.

“I don’t know who is after me.” He told her the truth.

“Captain, the other ship is closing,” her officer informed her.

Angel eyed Kirek warily. “Start walking. Why do they want you? Why are you valuable?”

“Good questions. I can only guess at the answers.” Since Kirek could no longer steal into Dakmar without her help, he assessed his options with hyperdrive efficiency. He could make up a cover on the spot, but any decent computer would poke credibility holes in his story, and if she caught him in a lie, it would be difficult to regain her trust. He could refuse to speak but sensed that wouldn’t win him her assistance, either. Besides, he did require help. It would be useful to have an ally on Dakmar. The moon housed the thickest base of thieves, murderers, traders, and blackmailers this side of the galaxy, intermixed with legitimate businesses. As a salvage captain, Angel likely knew her way around and could introduce him to the right beings, putting him on a fast warp in the right direction—if he could gain her cooperation.

So the truth not only might work best, the truth worked with his morals. Kirek didn’t like lying. Although, for the greater good, he could override his inbred Rystani morality, but he preferred to operate on the sunny side of the truth.

“What’s your best guess?” she asked.

He scratched his cheek and gazed over his shoulder at her but kept his feet moving. “You won’t believe me.”

“Start talking.” Gesturing with the blaster toward the shuttle bay, she scowled as if expecting lies.

He could probably take away her weapon before she fired a shot, but he wouldn’t risk losing whatever goodwill she might have. But his story was long and complex and the best place to start was at the beginning.

“Twenty-eight years ago,” he began, speaking as if telling a story to a favorite child as he headed toward the shuttle bay, “I was born in hyperspace.”

“Stars,” she swore without rancor. “I’m beyond the age of fairy tales. Birth in hyperspace is impossible.”

“There’s no point telling you all my secrets,” he teased, “if you refuse to keep an open mind.”

“Fine.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone. “You were born in hyperspace. Do you think we could skip to the present?”

He refused to let her skepticism throw him. Instead, he enjoyed pushing her over the edge of incredulity. “When I was four, I traveled to a planet halfway to the galaxy’s rim, and the Kwadii proclaimed me their Oracle.”

“Right.” She snorted, and he turned to catch her rolling her eyes in a Terran gesture so like Tessa’s he had to restrain a chuckle. “Forgive me if I don’t think you look holy.” She eyed him with wary cynicism. “Perhaps you’ve spent too much alone-time on this abandoned ship.”

“Actually, I’m in a mood to enjoy the right kind of company,” he flirted back. “You arrived right on time. It’s only been a few days since I put out word about the Vogan ship.”

“You set me up? You were expecting me?”

“You or another salvage ship. I needed a ride to Dakmar.”

“Undercover?” she guessed.

He nodded.

“So, the other ship out there wants to stop you from going to Dakmar because
…
”

He shrugged. That others seemed to know his mission was of great concern, but Kirek had lived through many dangerous situations. When he’d been a child, he’d been alone on Kwadii, totally separated from the adults who’d been captured. Even though he’d been terrified, he’d still managed to make new friends. He’d found other children and played computer games to earn credits to buy what he’d needed. Later, as a sexual hostage on Endeki, he’d often managed to enjoy himself under dire conditions. So even under the most trying circumstances, he’d learned to enjoy life. “My years have been eventful.”

“Whose haven’t? Get to the point.” When Kirek didn’t immediately respond, Angel prodded him lightly with the blaster. “Now.”

“When I was eighteen, the Endekian leader’s wife took me into her confidence and—”

“Even I know the Rystani and Endekians are enemies.” She gestured again with the blaster, urging him through the shuttle bay.

Petroy interrupted. “Captain, the other ship is Kraj. Ever heard of them?”

“No.”

“I have,” Kirek admitted. “A most unpleasant race. Narrow-minded, intense, warlike.”

“Several Kraj just showed up on our sensors.” Petroy’s tone turned sharp. “They are inside the Vogan ship.”

“Stars. How close?” Angel asked.

“Right above you.”

Kirek craned his head back. The Kraj must have hidden behind the warp engine’s shielding. If his psi had been healed, he would have known they were there. But he hadn’t felt their presence and obviously the
Raven’s
sensors were antiquated or malfunctioning.

Without hesitation he snagged the weapon he had hidden in the fold of his suit and reached out to grab Angel to pull her behind the cover of a column. But she’d already dived, rolled, and hidden behind twisted
bendar
hull–plating right before four Kraj dropped through the ceiling panels.

Kirek swore under his breath. Did she have to pick the worst spot in the entire cargo bay to hide? The Kraj practically descended right on top of her. Big, ugly, gray creatures, twice Angel’s mass, they attacked at the speed of thought, using their psi suits to strike in formation. But as Angel fell to her back and fired her weapon into their midst, taking out one Kraj almost immediately, Kirek noted she also had the perfect counterattack spot.

From his position, he didn’t have a direct shot. Hampered by his injured psi, he couldn’t move faster than his opponents. Kirek lunged toward Angel, firing his weapon, but his blaster shot had no effect.

“They have a jamming device,” he warned Angel, but she had figured it out as quickly as he had and holstered her blaster and pulled another weapon. Using her psi, she lunged at a forty-five-degree angle to avoid being crushed between two oncoming Kraj.

At his words, two Kraj turned on him. But he fretted about the one still after Angel.

Before he could come to her aid, he first had to dispatch his own attackers. The two Kraj attacked together, coming in fast and hard. One punched his face—the other slammed a foot into his kidney. Despite strengthening his shield, part of the force came through. Pain radiated down his back and across his jaw.

Countering with a swift round kick to the head, Kirek knocked out one Kraj. But the other took the opportunity to choke him from behind, wrapping an arm about his throat.

Kirek shifted his hips, twisted a wrist, and flung the Kraj into a bulkhead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Angel duck behind a crate then bash the metal cage into her opponent’s face. The Kraj let out a roar and came after her with such force and speed that Kirek’s heart marched up his throat.

He lost sight of her again as his own opponent attacked with a metal bar. The Kraj swung at Kirek, and he jerked back, watching the Kraj’s eyes for an opening. The two danced forward, back, to the side, each searching for a weakness. When they edged toward a bulkhead, Kirek used his suit’s null grav to kick against the wall, come in at an angle.

The Kraj raised the metal bar, but Kirek slammed the knife-edge of his hand against the other’s throat. Letting out a pained croak, the Kraj dropped to the deck.

Angel cursed. Kirek turned in time to see her take a blow to the shoulder, shift, and ram a knife into the Kraj’s chest. He slumped, unconscious, maybe dead.

“You okay?” he asked, breathing hard, more out of fear for her than the exercise.

“Yes. You?” She placed her foot on the Kraj’s chest, jerked out her knife, wiped off the blood on his suit, then stuffed it back up her sleeve.

“Let’s get out of here.” He motioned toward the shuttle.

“I want that jammer.” She used null grav to lift herself through the ceiling panels.

Frustrated that she was wasting time, he tried to hide his irritation. “You can retrieve it later.”

“When we tow the ship, the jammer might come loose and float out the damaged hull.”

“The Kraj ship is coming,” he reminded her.

She didn’t stop, stubbornly lifting into the ceiling, giving him no choice but to follow. “It will only take a sec—”

Without air to convey sound, he could hear nothing except through the com. She’d gone silent.

“Angel?” When she didn’t answer, Kirek’s mouth went dry. Instead of entering through one of the open panels, he chose an unbroken one to burst through, hoping to take whoever was up there by surprise.

Obviously another Kraj had been working the jammer, and he’d silenced Angel. The shielding in this section was so thick, Kirek’s damaged psi hadn’t felt him and neither had the sensors on Angel’s ship. Now the Kraj had Angel.

Praying she wasn’t dead, Kirek rocketed through the panel and into the ceiling.

A Kraj turned, holding Angel across his chest and in front of him like a shield. Angel slumped in the man’s arms, her head drooping, shoulders sagging, limp and either unconscious or dead.

“Move on me and I’ll snap her neck,” the Kraj warned, his words giving Kirek hope that she still breathed.

“If you want this ship, you can have it,” Kirek replied, stalling, knowing full well the Kraj didn’t want the ship, but him. If the Kraj had had a weapon in his hand, Kirek and Angel would both be dead. But with his mothership bearing down, he need only hold out until help arrived.

“Let her go and I can make you a wealthy man,” spoke Kirek, edging his feet slowly, changing his angle to attack.

The Kraj’s eyes narrowed as if considering Kirek’s words.

Angel chose that moment to slam her head back against the bridge of his nose.

Roaring in pain, the Kraj loosened his grip but didn’t let her go. Angel kicked her heel into his shin, and Kirek launched his body into them. The three collided, lifting them into empty space. Kirek used the collision to hammer his fist against the Kraj’s temple. The big gray alien flew one way, Kirek and Angel the other.