Vanquished (2 page)

Anxiety mounting, she peered
forward and believed she heard the faint whine of the turbos that dropped the
lifts between decks. There had been no announcements. No reassurance from the
captain. It was too much to believe there had been such widespread malfunctions
that all the communication options were neutralized. So it had to be pirates.
Fuck. Maybe she’d given the wrong impression by remaining neutral. Maybe she
should have told everyone to head for the pods. Her faith in her ability to
command and make good decisions had been so shaken by past events. Unbidden
thoughts threatened to flood her brain and immobilize her, and Neira
automatically practiced the techniques the therapist had taught her.
Concentrate on your feet, remain grounded,
feel your surroundings, know you aren’t back in that place. Breathe.

Slowly the sensation of breathing
underwater eased as the tested approach kept her in the present as usual, and
while the hair at her temples grew damp and her chest ached, it was enough to
push past the trauma and gain control of her body. Neira reapplied her focus to
the situation. All she had left was to try to make this a choke point, give any
other survivors a chance to fend off those attempting to gain access to their
cabins. Maybe buy some time for the Outriders—those smaller but well-armed and
nimble craft—to return and engage the pirates and drive them off. Hope was all
she had.

The policy of sending those
escort ships racing ahead to clear space, instead of tending the slower vessels
like
Astris
, was another foolish
choice in Neira’s opinion. She might not understand astrophysics or gravity
infusers, but she did grasp the art of war and the techniques contained within
that art. And her opinion had just been supported. The passenger ship was
indeed like a fat ewe for the
plucking,
no matter they
weren’t supposed to be at war with anyone any longer. A few Outriders should
have been left behind.
Der’mo
. Not
that cursing in her native language was going to change anything, except
everything did appear to be going to shit.

A panel worked open behind her
and she whirled, weapon at the ready, too wired to mute her trained response.
Yuri emerged, a closet support rod in his hand and a determined look on his
Slavic features. Neira wondered if he saw a similarity in her own facial
structure as his gaze met hers. They had never exchanged last names—people on
vessels like these rarely connected for more than polite social necessities,
loners almost always without exception, although she suspected Toya had had an
affair with one of the crew.

“It is pirates,” Yuri announced,
clearly having thought things through. When she didn’t attempt to dissuade him,
he asked, “What’s your plan?”

“Hold them at the lift, block the
doors, anything to give our escorts time to figure it out and get back to save
the day.”

Yuri arched a brow at the
bitterness in her tone but didn’t respond to it. He nodded,
then
looked at the doors and back at her.
“How?”

“If they use a phase weapon we’re
fucked. But I can’t think they’d be so stupid. It was probably one of the crew
who objected to being cut down, slaughtered.”

“You think the crew…” Yuri’s face
paled even more and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“I don’t think anything, really.
I don’t
know
anything. I’m trying to
make some educated guesses and make the appropriate choice to respond. I’m now
wondering if this deck shouldn’t abandon ship while there is still time.”

“They’ll destroy the pods.” His
tone was colored with despair.

“If they have anyone left on
their ship to do it, they will,” she agreed. “But they may all be on board
except for a skeleton crew, and if so can’t watch all the ejection points. Hard
to weigh the odds because we can’t be sure they are really pirates.”

“Who else?”
Yuri blanched. She knew he was
thinking again about the possibilities. Being captured and sold as a slave and
worked hard was one thing. There was always the chance of escape or a decent
life. His next statement confirmed her supposition that he wasn’t thinking
positive. “What if it’s the Juxtant?”

“The Juxtant are scattered,” she
dismissed, willing another surge of bile back down. “The Home World and its
allies dealt with them, and the Shadalla are cleaning up the dregs.”

“We can hope that’s all true,” he
muttered. “At least the Shadalla treats slaves well, and sometimes they
ransom—”

“The Shadalla don’t buy slaves
anymore, Yuri.”

“So the treaty says,” he agreed,
but with true Russian pessimism.

A
thud
signaled the
arrival of the lift, cutting Yuri off before she could remind him he was lucky
he didn’t possess a vagina. As far as she knew, the Shadalla were primarily
heterosexual, although that was but a fleeting tidbit of information she’d
recalled. An understanding of the sexual proclivities of other species hadn’t
mattered back then. But now…the majority of the passengers on the ship were
female, and it was a damn good possibility someone had told the pirates that
very thing. She knew there were species
who’d
prefer
Yuri. A particularly nasty flash surged up from the guarded recesses in that
dark room in her brain, battered itself into oblivion, and she blinked back
into the present once again.
Breathe.
Attend to your surroundings.

She’d boarded this fucking ship
to avoid all the triggers, choosing civilian life after her discharge, and this
was so unfair—like life was fair. Neira felt her lip curl at her pathetic
musing.
Best to get on with it.

The dual panels of the lift
shuddered but didn’t part company as she motioned Yuri into position on the far
side of the conveyance. She supposed the doors were affected by the same issues
as the ones to the passenger quarters. A tiny slit manifested in the middle as
the business end of a blade poked through the joint. Neira moved swiftly,
bringing up her
palka
, and slammed
the blade back into the recesses of the door. She distinctly heard a foul curse
hard on the heels of her action.

“What do you think they’ll do
next?” Yuri spoke in a hushed tone.

“If I was on the other side of
the door I’d try a couple of blades at once and hope whoever beat back the
first attempt is alone, or got lucky.” She ran a finger down her weapon,
relieved that there wasn’t a mark.

Her only supporter tried a smile,
totally at odds with the look of terror in his pale blue eyes. “I’ll do my
best.”

“All I can ask, Yuri,” she
reassured him, blessing the faulty mechanics that were the only thing standing
between them and some very real nastiness. She didn’t tell Yuri that repairs
might already be underway, in which case the lift doors would fly open and
they’d be overwhelmed in an instant, because she’d never be able to hold back a
concerted attack by herself. And pirates weren’t stupid; they existed in space
where others couldn’t, so they’d developed a way of surviving she couldn’t
pretend to understand. Lots of things she didn’t understand on this trip. Like
why she was really here. What had she been thinking?
And should you have stayed on the Home World? Let them find a way to
bring you back into the fold?

“Are you a soldier?”

Glancing at Yuri, she nodded,
wondering if he’d somehow read her mind.
“Was.
Not for
a few months now.”

“You quit? Do they allow that?”

“It’s called a discharge, my
friend, and yes, one can quit.”
Not the
way you quit, though.
She gave her head a quick shake to shove that thought
away and kept her attention on the doors.

“You look like a soldier still.
You’re fit in ways different than the farmers and the others. And your hair…”

She involuntarily passed a hand
over her closely shorn locks, so unlike the majority of the other women
aboard—and some of the men. Her hair had grown out a little since she was
discharged and she’d tried to leave it alone, tried to be more feminine, but
old habits die hard.
People die hard too,
don’t they?
Fuck. She couldn’t let herself think about this crap now.

“It’s easier to care for,” she
said, wondering why she even bothered to assuage Yuri’s curiosity, except maybe
their dialogue would keep him calm and up to the task.

“The sonic shower is something
less than desirable,” he agreed, chatting desultorily. Anxiety was apparent in
his stance, and his voice echoed down the long corridor. “There’s actual water
in showers on some ships. Better recycling or something.”

Their only warning was the slice
of steel against steel as the two blades Neira had forecast pushed through the
narrow crevice of the lift doors. It snapped them both out of their superficial
conversation and she mentally cursed her lack of focus. Stepping up, she
successfully whacked one back inside, and a crack beside her, accompanied by a
muttered profanity, dealt with the other. Yuri blinked her way and the closet
support, now in bad repair, dangled from one hand.

“Good job.” Her troops wouldn’t
require praise, but he looked overwhelmed.

“Uh, thanks. I imagined it was a
predator coming close to the barns.”

Not such a bad analogy, Neira
thought, as she considered his now useless weapon. The substance it was made
from was no match for tempered steel. “You’ll need another rod. You might want
to hurry.”

Watching him
hustle back to his quarters while she waited for the next foray chiseled away
at her equanimity.
She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled fully. When their attackers came
through those doors, barring the miraculous arrival of the Outriders, she’d
acquit herself to the best of her ability…and die trying. A calm resolve
overtook her and she prepared. This was what she’d been seeking, if only she
had admitted it. Not some stifling half-life on a planet nobody else wanted,
but death in battle. Guarding the innocent, even if she wouldn’t be able to
save them either.

Chapter Two

Vayne Palldyn bent a look on his
executive officer. “Why is this taking so long?”

Leric Hastel lifted a shoulder
and barked a question into his mouthpiece, wincing when a retort clearly filled
his ear. He fished the earbud out and turned to Vayne. “They’ve secured the
bridge, the crew quarters and the first deck of passengers. And of course the
cargo hold
.
Some problem on gaining access
to the second deck.”

“Explain.”

“I can’t, sir. They won’t say.
They’re clearly agitated.”

That wouldn’t do. Vayne knew the
second deck held primarily women, the soft, curvy women of that Home
World—Earth—he’d had cause to visit after the conflict. After his kind and the
humans became allies. The place he was no longer welcome to call upon, despite
the détente, because someone had figured out he had ulterior motives, someone
with a guilty conscience. He’d been lucky to receive forewarning in order to
leave a few stints ahead of the assassination teams. The ambassador’s daughter
had foolishly believed he was committed to her and passed on the message her
father had received. No doubt she now wished him ill, considering he hadn’t
contacted her again as promised, but she wasn’t a chosen. In truth it had
pained him to use the girl, but she’d been a means to a very essential end. If
only he’d had more time. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t brought her intense
pleasure.

Now here he was, breaking every
kind of rule. If not for his position on his own planet, this action could get
him executed. If he was found out it would still create some issues, maybe even
a scandal. And while his information stated the
Astris
carried a large female passenger contingent, he had no idea
of the age of said females, yet decided to take the risk. He was that
desperate. His species was that desperate, the treaty and all its old,
doddering males who supported
it,
be damned. “We
should have taken the
Astris
ourselves.”

“No, sir.
The
pirates
seizing her gives
you plausible deniability.”

Vayne snorted a laugh despite the
circumstances. His exec had adopted several interesting political sayings from
their previous enemy and used them well. “This is true, Leric. But you’ve
already said there was a phase weapon discharged. Who is to say they won’t
completely fuck up the remainder of the mission? I hope to find an appropriate
mate in one of those women.”

“I understand that. But you can’t
think to go over there.”

He cogitated. His ship,
Tomodr
, stood off from the pirates’
battered one, using the profile to screen it from any possible detection by the
Astris
in the event someone on that
bridge had detected the attack coming. He knew the Outriders would soon be on
their way back, because their slower charge had been at a standstill long
enough for the security ships to have lost the old style ion beacon. He decided.

“I’m going. You have the con.
Send two troops with me.”

“Sir!”
It was Leric’s job as first
officer to protest, but he would know the futility in it as he knew his
sovereign. Vayne wouldn’t change his mind, not with his possible prey—
some
Shadalla male’s prey—so close.

“Tell those fools to cease
whatever they are doing to attempt to take that deck! And tell them not to kill
anyone else.” Surely everyone worthy of being an opponent was now subdued. It
was a
passenger
ship, for fuck’s
sake.

At Leric’s resigned acceptance,
Vayne made his way to the lift, relieving another officer of his weapon as he
did so, the shocker being far less dangerous in closed quarters than a fucking
phase weapon.
Assholes.

The two troopers he’d ordered
joined him at the shuttle, and a pilot was already at the controls. Vayne
decided to let the smaller man fly her. He was an excellent pilot himself, but
he wanted to concentrate on the more immediate—getting this mission
done
. They gained the docking port on
the beleaguered ship in a few moments, and upon entering the bay he surveyed
the motley human pirates milling about as they alternately cursed and glared
his way.

“Captain?”
He afforded their leader the
respect the pirate probably didn’t deserve, but it accomplished what he required.
The other man—previously seen only on vids—stepped forward and gave Vayne his
attention.

“There was no need to attend,
Sovereign.
None.”
The captain spoke quietly but with
intent.

Vayne’s gut clenched. The pirate
had figured out who he really was, despite using false names and considerable
currency to blur the reasoning. He rose above it, ignoring the title. “Explain
the problem.”

With a faint sneer, Captain
Ristos gestured toward the corridor. “Come.”

Leaving everyone behind except
for his troops, who’d fanned out to protect his flank, Vayne followed Ristos.
Assorted
Astris
crew members wearing
the distinguished green-and-gold uniforms of the transport line were tied up
and stacked against the walls, and all were blindfolded. At least his orders not
to use ultimate force had been followed. Ristos came to a halt and gestured.
Vayne noted how well made the other man was, tall and muscular, and he’d
clearly seen the inside of a sonic shower recently. A quick glance around
determined the remainder of the pirates were also well set up and tidy about
their persons despite their mismatched appearances and frustrated demeanor. It
struck him he was dealing with something quite different from that of the
killers and marauders he expected.

“It’s the same on the bridge. We
killed no one. The captain refused to tell the crew to stand down, so he was
…
made an example, and the rest
followed suit for the most part. Stunned several, beat a few into submission,
but we have control.”

Surveying Ristos with new
interest, Vayne saw what the vids hadn’t shown him—the man was intelligent and
obviously a leader of men. That much was evident in the deportment of the ones
who followed him.
Perhaps some kind of disbanded military?
“You don’t have control of the second deck.”

“Yet,” the other man agreed
grimly. “We thought it was a mechanical problem. The gravitational systems were
damaged by an overenthusiastic crew who thought he was releasing the fucking
docking clamps and dissuading us. It’s made every door on the ship either slow
to open or, in the case of the lift, impossible. Then some fool used a phase
weapon and destroyed the back-up systems.”

Vayne waited, and Ristos’ black
eyes narrowed as he explained in detail. “We thought the second deck lift doors
were also merely stuck, needed a manual push. But the man I had prying it open
insists both his blade, and that of his comrade, were pushed back on them. It’s
a ridiculous stand-off, and we don’t know who is on the other side.”

“I apologize for thinking you
less than professional,” Vayne offered.

“Well, don’t praise me yet,
Sovereign. We lost a pod too. One passenger, female, probably a passenger and
unlikely to be skilled at avoidance, but there’s still a risk—”

“Of the Home World getting a
transmission, even via an outpost or another ship,” Vayne concluded.

“Your part in this won’t likely
be in that report, but it does mean we need to get moving and retrieve that
pod. And so far we haven’t been able to repair those damn doors!”

“Are you suggesting we cut our
losses?” That was most definitely not happening, and Vayne’s tone reflected the
fact.

Ristos shrugged. “We got the
cargo, what there was of it. The Home World isn’t sending as much out to its
colonies anymore. I expect they’re self-sufficient. More tends to come back.
For import, as it were. But they like to make their stamp on whatever they
touch.”

Vayne wasn’t going to respond to
that resonating comment, because he’d likely lose his temper and destroy a few
things, waste too much time. Would he ever move past the rage? “What was the
number of males to females in the first deck?”

He was determined to hide his
real reason for waylaying the
Astris
,
though Ristos clearly wasn’t stupid. He also regretted the severe injury to the
Home World captain and made a mental note to find out who the man’s family was
and ensure they wanted for nothing in the event the man wasn’t able to work
again. Vayne hated only the politicians, and those high up in Earth’s military,
the ones who gave the orders…and collaborated with his worst enemy.

“Fifty-two
females, sixteen males.”
He yanked his thoughts away from the Juxtant Monarch as Ristos supplied the
information.

“And their
stats?”

“All females well above forty,
sent to oversee or work in the installations on Vector Seven.
Skilled.
I suspect they are going because there is nothing
left for them at home. The men are all in their prime, farm labor.”

“Are the men willing to work for
better wages and conditions?” Vayne made another effort to mask his real
intent.

The other man shrugged. “None agreed.
They think it’s a trick. I do suspect that if they thought we’d kill them
they’d take the deal.”

“We want those willing to move.
We aren’t interested in guarding people who will try to run, or worse, sabotage
our facilities.” Vayne heard
himself
confiding in a
pirate captain and wished to call back the words.
Except the
man somehow was felt to be his equal, if not in birthright, then as a warrior.
It was puzzling and something he needed to consider at a later date. His
species didn’t tend to play well with others.

“Uh-huh. And the women are too
old? Well, then I suggest we leave them locked in their quarters. Second deck
will likely yield the same results. We’ve downloaded the computer files but
they’re encrypted. So we don’t know everything, yet.” The pirate leader’s
features gave away nothing but Vayne felt his thoughts and silent queries. The
sovereign knew there were women on board, as he was privy to the manifest, and
females of childbearing age were worth this risk.

Forcing a casual gesture, Vayne
said quietly, “Best not look too closely, my friend. Speculation can be
dangerous.”

Ristos regarded him with
interest—and no real fear. It took Vayne aback. His threat had been
unmistakable for such an intelligent man to discount it. “I don’t care what your
game is, Sovereign, although I suspect it isn’t just about manning your
facilities. If you want access to that deck, then you’ll have it.”

Accompanying the pirate captain,
Vayne approached the lift. It was sizable but would hardly hold an assault
force. Ristos clearly had the same opinion, motioning out the four pirates
already there before heading in himself. He looked at Vayne, one brow raised in
invitation, and Vayne stepped inside.

“Barek and Duff, you come with
us. Want one of your troops, sir?”

Aware Ristos had deliberately not
afforded him his title, now that others were within
earshot,
Vayne shook his head and ignored the look of concern on his guards’ faces.
“Stand down. Aid in the clean-up and any transfers.”

The doors hitched closed on their
startled faces and his stomach dropped as they fell to the lower deck, the
whooshing
sound of the lift very apparent in the silence. He sincerely hoped the
difficulty with the systems didn’t extend to the conveyance, because being
stuck like a
lorat
in a cage didn’t
appeal.
Nor did ending up as a broken bundle of flesh should
it free fall.
When it stopped without incident at its appropriate
destination, he turned to the captain, hiding his sigh of relief.
“Your plan?”

“Same as
before, only with three blades.
Whoever is on the other side can’t defend forever with whatever weapons they
have. And with any luck my tech officer will have the repairs made shortly. If
it wasn’t for that escape pod I’d counsel we wait.”

Standing back, Vayne observed as
Ristos and his men inserted their long daggers into the crack between the doors
simultaneously and began to pry from opposite directions. The pirate called
Barek was a great hulk of a man, and he grunted loudly as his efforts offset
the other two. Then he and Ristos staggered back, blades vibrating visibly in
their hands. Duff almost immediately took one step back, but his blade didn’t
leave the door completely. He resumed prying, but his weapon visibly shuddered,
and he too retreated.

Curses filled the air, and Ristos
turned a wry smile on Vayne. “It appears we have determined opponents, sir.”

Daggers at the ready, the three
once again approached the crack when there was a mechanical sigh and the doors
opened. Vayne spied a young, fair-haired male standing wide-eyed, his mouth
dropping open as the pirates charged from the lift. Vayne followed on their
heels, wincing as they mowed the young man down with a hit to the head, the
impact throwing him into the corridor wall. Then all chaos descended.