Tor (Women of Earth Book 2) (25 page)

"I have to go." Tor was already moving when another voice chimed in.

"The ring is up and holding steady, Cap. Say the word and this bird is ready to soar." Truca sounded as if she was ready to soar with it. "I told you she was a beauty."

"Actually, she told me it was a piece of flying shit," he chuckled as he broke into a trot.

Wynne trotted behind him. After the Sea Goose's rocky start, she wasn't sure she wanted to see the shift, but this was Tor's life and she wanted more memories, too.

"What have we got?" Tor asked as he took the time to settle Wynne into her seat.

Posy answered without looking back. "Two ships on our tail, approaching fast. They're too far out to identify, but with all the noise we made taking off, my guess would be Wynne's peacekeeper friend."

Ish snickered, but never took her eyes from her screens. One of them prominently displayed a series of rapidly changing figures like those movies that kept you on edge with a countdown to when the bomb would go off.

With Tor's touch to his shoulder, Posy moved back to his original seat.

"Let them get a little closer," Tor said. "Navigator?"

"On course and holding, but we're cutting it close."

"That's what we want, Ish. Make them think the old rust bucket can't shift until it's too late. Send me the count."

Ish's fingers moved and the screen with the rapidly moving figures appeared before Tor.

"Engine room, are you ready?"

"I said I was, didn't I?" the girl's voice snapped with tension.

"Excuse me?" Tor's voice snapped back.

"Oh, uh, sorry. Yo, Captain. Ready and waiting for the count."

"That's better."

"Captain?" The usually unflappable Ish sounded nervous.

"I got it. On my count. Three, two, one, shift."

With the words 'On my count' everybody braced, so Wynne did, too. She gripped the arms of her chair like her life depended on it. When Tor said, 'Shift', she was pressed back into her seat with such force she thought her body flattened to a Wynne shaped pancake. Before she had time to be frightened, it was all over and the windshield before them was filled with a fireworks' display of color and light. Streak after steak of brilliance surrounded them, though none were reflected inside the ship.

She knew Tor was issuing more orders and the others replied, but Wynne heard none of their words. Her mind was consumed with radiance.

She gasped at the beauty of it and laughed with delight as she was reminded of a picture she'd imagined as a little girl. This was what the entrance to heaven would look like. The pearly gates would open before them at any minute. Was this the rush Tor spoke of? She couldn't say it was better than sex, but it was a sight she would never forget.

Truca's worried voice broke through Wynne's amazement.

"Captain, the ring's oscillations are beginning to waver. She won't hold."

"Reduce to two." Tor ordered.

"You can't hit the tunnel at Shift Two, Captain," Posy reminded him in his calm and sultry voice.

"We're not going to make it anyway. The tunnel's closing," Ish added, sounding not nearly so calm.

A dark spot vacillated in the center of the windshield. The edges wavered like a living thing.

"Engine room, reduce to one, then wait for my count."

It was Mohawk's voice that answered. "She heard you, but she's a little busy holding this crap heap together."

The lights began to slow, but Wynne felt no difference in the movement of the ship.

"On my count, Truca."

The dark spot had grown to a pulsating blob and they were headed right for it. Wynne gripped the arms of her chair again.

"Captain," Posy warned.

"Drop her down and disperse the ring. Three, two, one. Now!"

This time, Wynne felt the loss of power. Restraints pressing into her shoulders and chest, she was thrown forward in her seat, but felt like she was being thrown into the blackness that now filled the windshield.

"Fuck," Ish muttered, but she sounded pleased.

"We did it!" Truca shouted.

"And that's why you call me Captain," Tor crowed. The relief in his voice was the only indication of the tension he'd felt before.

Unlike the light, the surrounding darkness penetrated the cockpit and con. The lights from the computer screens glowed brightly against the black.

"Um, where are we?" Wynne asked. She'd loved the light show, but this darkness made her feel cold.

"Ammon's Tunnel. Creepy, huh?" Ish was enjoying Wynne's discomfort.

Posy showed more compassion. "It will be over shortly. The tunnel will save us time and put the peacekeepers too far behind us to follow."

"We'll arrive on the same day as Honarie," Tor added, before he pressed the button and called out to Truca. "How's my favorite mechanic doing?"

"Other than my wet pants? Pretty damn good. And that's Engineer from now on, Captain. I'm giving myself a promotion."

"You've earned it. Now all we have to do is get you the education to go with it."

Truca laughed. "Too expensive, but there are a couple of texts I'd like to have."

"Consider it done."

Wynne raised her finger and Tor laughed at the gesture. "She's thinking," he said to the others.

"If this, uh, tunnel puts us a day ahead, and I assume that means it will be yesterday, what makes you think we'll arrive on the same day as Honarie? Wouldn't he use the tunnel, too?"

"Those ships we saw at Alamandria's were light years better than that dinky hopper, but they can't shift," Ish explained. "From Celos, Imperial City is well within their range, but only if they fly a direct route. We, on the other hand, travelled a longer distance but shifted and hit the tunnel before it closed not only skipping time, but leaving that sleazy peacekeeper like a tiny and twinkling little star behind us."

"Out of the darkness and into the light," Posy intoned. "Feeling better now?"

At the receding darkness, Wynne nodded. "Much."

"Engineer?" Tor called. "Ready to build that ring and shift again?"

"Don't see why not, Captain. My pants are already wet," Truca answered cheerfully. "But can we keep it at two? Mohawk wasn't nearly as adorable once we hit three." Mohawk's muttered curses could be heard behind her giggles.

"Keep me informed." Tor released the button before he added. "I think our girl is back."

Ish exchanged a glance with Wynne. "I'm wondering if I was wrong. I'm wondering if maybe..."

"She's stronger than you thought?" Wynne asked sweetly because she knew Ish hated sweet. "Strength lies in knowing what weapons you have and how best to use them. You taught me that, Ish, when you were prattling on and on about knives. You've probably taught Truca that, too. Her genius with machinery and knowledge of engines are her weapons. With her weapons in hand, she isn't feeling powerless anymore."

Wynne was hoping for a conceding grin, but was just as happy with Ish's eye roll and reply.

"I'm wondering if maybe you aren't as stupid as you look and only half as weak."

"Why, thank you, Ish. I like you, too."

Chapter 25

Plans changed. Tor didn't like it, but Wynne's idea was the best by far and the most likely to succeed.

"It only makes sense, Tor. I still have these doohickeys on my face and Alamandria loaded me up with everything I need to launch my burgeoning career as a cosma mordata, so I may as well put them to good use."

"Mordata cosma," Truca corrected.

Wynne laughed. "Oh, yeah, I guess I had it backwards."

"How the hell are you going to be one if you can't remember how to pronounce it," Mohawk grumbled.

"I'm not going to be one. I'm going to pretend to be one. I don't think I'll be required to say it," she huffed. "I won't have to say anything at all, just strut my stuff." She shimmied her shoulders and hips.

Posy groaned. "Prayers to my goddess, don't do it like that."

"You want his eyes on me, don't you?"

"No," Tor said.

Posy ignored him. "Yes, but a mordata cosma does flaunt, she entices." The Basker gracefully glided across the floor, hips swaying. He stopped, and with big feet daintily poised, turned. Elbow bent and forearm raised, he tipped his hand backward in a haughty and very feminine gesture. With a long cigarette holder and a martini, he could have made it big in the movies of the 1940s.

"Wow, a navy blue Bette Davis. Do that again."

He did and Wynne followed his every move. "How's that?" she asked.

"Better, but use a little less sway in the hips." He looked around at the others. "What? I was raised as an assassin. You do whatever it takes to get close to your assignment. I'm very good with cosmetics, too. This..." He touched his cheek and cocked his head in another very feminine gesture. "Is not an easy complexion to disguise. By the way, my dear, I hope Alamandria had the good sense to pack gloves. Your hands are atrocious." He held out his hand to her. "Let's go get you dressed."

"Over your dead body," Tor snarled. That was exactly how the big blue guy got women naked. He made them believe he was harmless. Combined with his tribe's dangerous reputation, it was a winning combination.

"I wasn't going to touch," Posy protested and then threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine, Ish can go with her, but no leather," he warned.

"I got it. Tastefully enticing, not doxie on the dock."

They were in there now. Posy was allowed in only after Wynne was dressed. Tor, at the helm, had no opportunity to see the result.

"We're approaching the city," he called, wishing they had individual units instead the all-call ship's system. "Engineer, acceleration control to the pilot."

"Yo, Captain. Pilot has the controls."

Posy was at his side, ready to take his place. He slipped into the pilot's seat while Mohawk took the co-pilot's.

"What do I do?" Mohawk asked.

"Look bored," Posy answered. "That's what I do. Go away now, Tor. The Captain has the helm." He proceeded to contact the Dock Master. "This is Posituralonius, Captain of the Sea Goose, requesting to make port and debark."

"How many in your party, Captain, and what is your purpose?"

"Four. A mordata cosma and her Companion, my co-pilot, and myself. Our purpose is pleasure, though I doubt my co-pilot can afford it," he joked.

"Can you?" the Dock Master chuckled.

"I only get here once every few years."

"I hear that. I live here and can't enjoy it but once every few years. Welcome to Imperial City." He gave his instructions. "I'll need your papers and manifest prior to debarkation."

Tor joined Ish and Truca at the rear hatch where they wouldn't be seen. This was something else he didn't like. He would have preferred Truca stay with the ship, but she was half Mohawk's weight and she would recognize the Sky Hawk no matter its new name. Also, as the girl herself pointed out, her age would be questioned if she tried to pose as co-pilot.

Everything went as planned. Posy brought them in with experienced ease and when the giant sliding doors sealed behind them, he taxied to the slip at the direction of the Dock Master. It was almost directly in front of the master's windowed office, which wasn't ideal, but couldn't be helped. Engines turned off and left to cool, Posy left the ship without hurry.

Mohawk called to Wynne when their pilot was in full view through the Dock Master's window. He then called out her progress.

"She looks like a queen ordering her guard to leave her alone. She's walking to the front of the ship. She's walking back and forth. She's got that swivel hip thing down pretty good. She's giving the guy an eyeful and he's enjoying it."

Tor wanted to give the Dock Master an eyeful of his fist.

Ish snickered and called back to Mohawk. "Just tell us when it's safe to leave, hopefully before the Captain's head explodes."

Moments later, Mohawk made the call.

"Good hunting. Let me know when you're back and I'll flag you when it's safe to board."

Fully armed, they crept from a rear hatch and began their search. The two women went one way while Tor went another. This part of the port was meant for passenger arrivals and while the floor of the wide walkway was brightly lit, the docking slips were not. Overhead lighting from the high dome cast wavering shadows and as planned, they used those shadows as cover to avoid the notice of the security guards that patrolled the dock. It was a matter of trotting from hull to hull until they found the right one. Much sooner than Tor expected, Ish was back.

"Where's Truca?"

"Keeping an eye on our ship and trying to get a head count of the bad guys."

"You left her alone?"

"She's not a child, Tor. She needs to pull her weight. She needs to know she can. Besides, what's it to you? You're leaving her to fend for herself."

"You've been talking to Wynne."

"I almost said smart man, but you're not. Come on. It's this way."

They had to pause when they reached the Sea Goose. The lights were on in the cockpit and the glow spread like a beacon across the dock. That wasn't part of the plan, but it wasn't hard to discern the purpose. Four guards stood over by the Dock Master's office, enjoying the show, a show for which Tor had no seat. The flat face of the ship prevented him from looking in without chancing exposure.

"What are they looking at?" he complained. "What the fuck did you dress her in?"

Ish grabbed his arm, leaned out and grinned when he yanked her back. "Whoa, it wasn't that. I, at least, showed some good taste. She must have changed."

Into what? The Osana's evil grin said she wanted him to ask, but Tor wasn't about to add to her enjoyment. Instead, he made a fool of himself and scolded like an old woman.

"You should know better than to take a risk like that. You could have been seen."

"Sorry, Dimi." Ish's use of the Osana diminutive for father told him what she thought, and then she snorted. "There was no risk. No one would notice me, not while she's dancing in the window."

He wasn't sure what Ish meant by dancing in the window, and wasn't about to ask that, either. That didn't, however, stop the vision in Tor's mind of the second floor sex shows on Celos. He started to grind his teeth.

"Let's get this over with," he growled. "I don't like leaving Truca alone."

"Get used to it," Ish told him before she ducked beneath the Goose and took off. Get used to what? Thoughts of Wynne dancing in front of other men or Truca being alone. He'd never get used to either.

Truca met them one dock slip away from the Sky Hawk. With two ships between them, they were free to speak in whispers.

"Chubo and Nix are in there," Truca told them. "There are only two guards, at least that's all I saw. I heard them talking about the two, um, well, you know. One said he had to give them another dose."

Tor's face hardened. "Tell us what you learned." It wasn't much, but it was enough. "Let's get this done. Ish, make sure those eyes are still on Wynne. Take the nose when you're sure it's clear. I'll take the rear and draw his attention. You take him from behind. When the other steps out, I'll take him."

Ish needed no more explanation. They'd worked so long together none was needed. She pulled one of her wicked looking knives from its hidden sheath and grinned. Blazers made no noise, but their firing would come with a flash of light that was bound to draw attention.

"Wait," Truca said, raising her finger just like Wynne. "What if Number Two doesn't come out? You'll have to go in. You can't fire, but he can. What does he care if he attracts notice? We're the bad players here. You're trying to steal his ship. Chubo and Nix could get hurt."

"Get dead, you mean." Ish shrugged one shoulder at Tor. "It's what I'd do. They got caught in the crossfire."

"The Hawk might be hurt, too. If she's hurt badly enough, she won't fly."

Tor almost smiled at the way Truca spoke of the ship as if it was a living thing. "Suggestions?" he asked, knowing she had one.

"Let me draw them both out."

"No." Sharp and definite, the word brooked no argument. It was usually enough to shut Truca down, but not this time.

"They know me, Tor." She nodded at his questioning surprise. Her eyes focused on the ground. "They were there. They thought it was funny. I recognized Number Two's laugh."

Tor didn't have to ask where 'there' was. He glanced at Ish and knew what the Osana was saying with her eyes. Truca needed this.

"I'm listening," he said.

From behind the ship, Truca approached the first guard. The knife in her hand was clearly visible, an obvious and foolish proclamation of her intent. Her unfeigned trembling played believably into the image she needed to present; an amateur out for revenge.

"Remember me?" she asked the guard and in case he didn't, "Maybe not. I was pinned to the floor of Honarie's lair and naked at the time." Amateur mistake number two. Don't stand around and talk. Do the deed and get out.

He moved toward her. "Yeah, I remember now. Back for seconds?"

Truca froze, but recovered quickly. "S-seconds? Y-you and your f-friend in there didn't even get f-firsts. N-no one did."

Tor was sure the stuttering wasn't intentional, but it worked. The guard was becoming bolder.

"That was Horny's fault, not ours, and Horny's not here." He banged his fist on the forward hatch, the one Truca had seen them use before.

"What?" came the annoyed answer as the door opened a crack. "If you have to take another shit, that's too damn bad. I'm sick of..."

"Got something here to get rid of the boredom. The demon from the Devil's Den came to give us another chance."

"Fuck all, but she's a tasty bit. Don't just stand there. Get her in here."

"I came to kill you." Truca raised the knife and lunged.

This was not part of plan. She was supposed to back off and make them come out. The guard immediately went for the wrist holding the knife. Truca fought like a wild animal, scratching, kicking, punching, biting, and gouging at his face with her nails when he turned her and captured her about the waist.

"Don't let her scream," the guard in the hatchway hissed. "Get her inside."

He opened the hatch cover more fully while the guard struggling with the girl tried to cover her mouth. She bit him. Swearing, he raised his fist to strike, but Tor struck first.

With the hatch fully open, the view of the back of the ship was blocked. By the time the guard in the doorway saw Tor grab the raised fist and twist, it was too late. With his first step into the open, Ish released her poised knife and buried it in his neck.

Tor dispatched the first guard in the same way, coldly and silently, but Truca wasn't satisfied. She kicked the body viciously and then moved on to the next."

"Who's. Laughing. Now?" she asked in time to her kicks.

Tor had to pull her away. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Pressing her head to his chest, he bent his head and whispered. "It's all right, Truca. It's over."

"No, it isn't over." Truca started to weep. "It never will be because it's taking you away from me, too."

Ish, watching them, caught Tor's eye. She shrugged as if to say, "See?"

His nonverbal reply was a disgusted glare. He gently pried the girl from his chest, now unsure if her tears were genuine.

"Truca, I want you to go with Ish. You need to find Chubo and Nix, and help her gather what we'll need while I clean up out here. Go on now. There's a good girl."

It didn't take him long. "It's me," he called softly at the hatch when he returned, and opened it carefully. As he suspected, Ish greeted him with her knife at the ready.

"Not taking any chances," she said as she sheathed the blade.

"I wouldn't expect anything less. Chubo and Nix?"

Ish laughed and pointed to the two canvas sacks slumped in the corner. They're fine. Breathing is steady, but they're out cold. Truca was right. They're drugged. We found the sacks hanging from hooks in the cargo hold. Truca wanted to let them loose, but I figured they'd be easier to move if we keep them trussed up."

She showed him the rest of the things they collected. Com units, a few weapons including the old fashioned handloaders, clothes, and an inflatable trolley were piled on the floor, along with other bits and pieces she thought they might need. They were all ready to be packed in a trunk and carried away.