She blinked, coming fully awake, hardly able to believe that she had dozed off while standing against a stack of shipping containers. She, Beck, and Mica were in a rail yard across the parking lot from the Spaceman’s Wharf, the restaurant Major Mladenovic had picked for their meeting place. The sky had lightened a few shades since the last time Alisa had opened her eyes.
Numerous cars were parked on the asphalt around the restaurant, while fliers perched in a separate rooftop lot. People walked in and out of the building, the scents of eggs and baking bread wafting out, but Beck wasn’t pointing in that direction. He was looking toward their left, at dark shadows inside the rail yard between two rows of shipping containers stacked three high and towering thirty feet above the asphalt.
Alisa had decided to wait here, where cargo was removed from ships and put onto trains to transport across the continent, rather than in a booth inside the restaurant, because she hoped to see Mladenovic walking in. More specifically, she hoped to see Mladenovic and however many men he brought with him walking in. He shouldn’t need more than a couple of people to ensure she cooperated and to give her the information she needed. If he brought an army, she would assume it was a trap.
Following Beck’s pointing arm, Alisa spotted a man in unremarkable civilian clothes walking out of the shadows. It was the major, his glasses reflecting the light of a lamp near the edge of the rail yard. Two men in mismatched combat armor strode after him.
“Thought you said this fellow would be wearing an Alliance uniform,” Beck said.
Alisa had summarized the message for him on the way over here, leaving out the details about her daughter. Beck had assumed she was turning the orb in for money, or just because the Alliance had ordered her to, and it had seemed simpler to let him believe that than explaining the truth.
“I’m not surprised he isn’t,” Alisa said.
“He would have the police or imperial soldiers jumping on him if he wandered around here in one of our uniforms,” Mica said, pushing away from the post she had been sitting on and yawning. She might have been dozing too. “There’s a police flier parked over there in the restaurant lot,” she added.
“Hope that means that they’ll come out to help if those two thugs in combat armor try to get rough,” Alisa said, debating whether she should step out of the shadows to greet the major or wait for him to cross the street and go into the restaurant. She wasn’t likely to have trouble with him in an eatery full of people.
“Are you making implications about the kinds of people who wear combat armor, Captain?” Beck asked.
“Just that they probably get crabby if they spend all day and all night in all that gear.”
“Actually, the padding inside mine is quite comfortable. I’ve been known to lock the leg servos and take a nap while standing up.”
“That’s a revelation that’ll make me feel particularly safe with you guarding my back in the future.”
“I don’t nap while guarding people, Captain.”
They weren’t talking loudly, but one of the men in armor caught up to the major and tapped him on the shoulder. He pointed at Alisa’s group. So much for the safety of a booth in the restaurant.
The three men veered in her direction. Mladenovic’s mouth moved as he murmured something. It might have been to his men or he might have had an earstar. It was too dark to tell. Alisa did not like the idea of him reporting to some superior that he had located her. Nor did she like the idea that he might have other men around that he could be checking in with. When she and Mica and Beck had arrived, Alisa had led them on a stroll around the rail yard and the restaurant, looking for any hidden trouble—such as squads of men poised to leap out and grab her. They hadn’t seen anything, but it had still been fully dark then, leaving plenty of hiding spots, especially among the shipping containers.
“Want me to look tough and menacing, Captain?” Beck asked, shifting closer to her.
“Is that hard to do when you’re outnumbered two to one?”
Technically, they were three to three, but Alisa did not have anything with her that could hurt someone wearing combat armor. She did not know what Mica had. She wore her big purse and was known for carrying homemade explosives and smoke bombs in it.
“Yes, but I can manage,” Beck said. “I’m a veteran.”
When he got close, Major Mladenovic lifted a hand, and the two armored men stopped. He continued forward a few steps, his eyes locking onto the bag Alisa had slung over her shoulder.
“Captain Marchenko,” the major said, his gaze shifting to her face.
“Major,” she said.
“You’re early. And not in the Wharf.”
“I assumed clandestine deals went on in shadow-filled places like this rather than at cheerful booths with yellow-flowered tablecloths.”
“You’ve been watching too many spy vids.” His gaze again shifted toward her bag, but he also eyed Mica’s big purse.
She was leaning against the post, her arms across her chest, looking calm. It was hard to tell if Beck was flexing his shoulders and thrusting his chest out when he was in that armor, but either way, he was looming effectively. Too bad the major’s men were just as good at looming. They carried rifles as well as their built-in weapons, and in the dim lighting, she thought she saw a grenade launcher poking up over one man’s shoulder. Interesting choice for a meeting at a restaurant.
“One has to entertain oneself somehow during long flights.” Alisa shrugged. “While I’m enjoying the small talk, you said—”
Her comm beeped, startling her. Out of habit, she almost reached for it, but she did not want to talk now. Besides, it might be Alejandro, having woken up and realized that she, Mica, and his orb were missing.
“Not going to answer that?” Mladenovic asked mildly when it beeped again, quite insistently.
“No, it’s possible that’s the owner of something I recently acquired.”
His gaze sharpened. “You stole it? You didn’t kill the monk?”
The monk? Was that what he thought Alejandro was? Interesting that an intelligence officer wouldn’t know the full story, that Alejandro had been a doctor working for the emperor’s family. Of course, maybe he did know and assumed that she did not.
“You didn’t mention that as a requirement,” Alisa said, boggled that he seemed to find the idea of theft more unappealing than killing people. And then taking their stuff. “Look, I have what you asked for. You said you have information to trade.”
Beck’s helmet swiveled toward her, but only briefly before he returned to glowering at his counterparts.
“The Starseers took her,” Mladenovic said.
“I know that. But where?” Alisa’s fingers curled into a fist. If all he had was the same information she had… Hells, maybe he’d seen the same video she had seen and that was it. All of this stress would have been for nothing.
“We can help you find her, but I need to see the artifact first.” He held out his hand.
Alisa did not move. She needed time to consider. Was this truly the right thing to do? So many people wanted this thing. Did the Alliance have more right to it than the remnants of the empire? Maybe neither of them should have it. If it was some Starseer artifact, maybe they should have it. The thought that she could possibly trade it for her daughter if necessary jumped into her mind. Not that it was hers to trade. Three suns, what was happening to her morality? Before this night, she had never considered stealing. She had always believed she was an honorable person, someone who did the right thing. But what was the right thing in this situation?
“Captain,” Mladenovic said, his voice growing cold. “If you think you’re going to keep it for your own personal gain—”
“I don’t care anything for personal gain. I just want my daughter, damn it.”
Mladenovic took a step forward, his hand still out. “And I told you: we can help you find her.”
The men in armor took a few steps forward too.
“Captain?” Bec
k whispered, lifting one of his arms, readying the embedded weapons.
“Can you help me, Major?” Alisa asked. “I don’t think you know anything more about her kidnappers than I do.”
“Not now perhaps, but I have the resources of a battalion of intelligence officers at my disposal. I can help. Once you give me the artifact.”
“I fought for the Alliance for four years, nearly died more than once. One would think the army would offer to help me with this situation whether I give them anything or not.”
Mladenovic’s jaw tightened. “Enough of this.” He lifted a hand toward his men. “Take it.”
Beck stepped in front of Alisa, the energy weapons on both of his forearms popping up from their ports. “Don’t even think of touching her.”
One of the men fired at Beck as Major Mladenovic tried to lunge around him, reaching for her. Alisa leaped back, her shoulder blades brushing the shipping container behind her, and pulled out her Etcher. She glimpsed Mica ducking behind her post and throwing something to the ground behind the major and in front of his armored men.
As Mladenovic lunged for Alisa, smoke spewed forth from Mica’s weapon. Alisa pointed her Etcher at the major, but he threw something as he lunged to the side. She fired, but was distracted by the object he’d thrown, and her shot went wide. Black threads snapped out, and something akin to a giant spider’s web smacked into the front of her body, the strands sticking to her skin and her clothing. An ugly version of a fluidwrap.
She jerked her arm toward Mladenovic as he approached from the side, fighting against the restrictive embrace of the web to aim her Etcher at him. An instant before she fired, he kicked out, his boot striking the bottom of her hand. She kept her grip on her gun, but pain exploded where he’d struck her, and the sticky strands stuck to the barrel. She could not aim her weapon except by turning her entire body around. She got off another shot, but it again flew wide.
The major sprang at her, crashing into her and taking her to the ground. Alisa was aware of Mica shooting from behind her post and of Beck now grappling with one of the armored men. The second one was running toward Mica, her bullets bouncing uselessly off the chest plate.
Alisa yelled, enraged that she had allowed herself to be taken down, that she couldn’t help. Mica had no way to defend against an armored man. Not only was Alisa helpless to do anything, but worse, the major had her pinned. He pulled out a dagger with a serrated blade, and fear surged through her. Would he truly stab her in the chest?
No, he sawed at the strands wrapped around her—around the shopping bag. He meant to cut it out and run off with it.
Growling, Alisa bucked, trying to knock him off her.
“Stay still, you dumb bitch,” he growled, grabbing her neck with one hand while he kept cutting with the other. “You should have just given it to me, you imperial traitor.”
“Traitor?” she roared, too furious with her stupidity in getting herself into this to be afraid of the fingers clasped around her throat. “I risked my life to take this. For the Alliance. I’ve always been loyal to the Alliance. I just want my daughter back.”
Mladenovic kept cutting, his face utterly impassive at her plight.
A gust of wind came down from above, some ship flying overhead. Alisa did not pay it any attention—she was too busy trying to figure out how to get out of her predicament—until it swooped lower, right over their row of shipping containers. A hatch in the back opened, and people starting firing.
“Alcyone’s wrath,” the major cursed, looking away from her and toward the sky.
She finally managed to land a useful blow, driving her knee upward and into his groin. He yowled and rolled away, grabbing his crotch.
Bullets and blazer bolts slammed into the ground all around them, stealing Alisa’s momentary feeling of satisfaction. She couldn’t get up—the cursed strands were sticking her arms to her torso—so she rolled toward the sturdy wall of the shipping container, hoping it would provide some shelter.
Wind caused by the blades of a rotary ship whipped her hair free of its braid —and the netting—so that it lashed her in the eyes. No less than four men in black with masks pulled over their faces leaned out of the hatch, shooting at the people on the ground, her people and Mladenovic’s. The snipers seemed to fire without aiming, not caring who they hit.
Someone cried out. Mladenovic? It was a horrible thought, but Alisa hoped so. Better him than Beck or Mica. Or her.
A white form lunged in from the side, blocking Alisa’s view of the sky. Beck.
He grabbed her and slung her over his shoulder, netting and all. She lost sight of the ship and of everything as her face was mashed against his armored back. He took off at a sprint, racing deeper into the rail yard. He fired backward as he ran, alternating between shooting at Mladenovic’s men and shooting at the ship.
“Mica?” Alisa yelled, not able to see her as she bounced along on Beck’s shoulder.
“She’s ahead of us,” he blurted, still firing. He raced around a corner and then another one. “There she is,” he added, pumping his legs harder.
All Alisa could see was his back and the asphalt blurring past underneath them. A boom sounded, rattling the ground and the stacks of shipping containers.
“What was that?” Alisa asked.
“Grenade launcher.”
One of Mladenovic’s men had been carrying that.
“Were the people on that ship there to get him?” Alisa asked, trying to think even as her brain was rattled by her bumpy ride. Could the imperials have spotted the major skulking about and come after him? If they had, wouldn’t they have come in a military ship and with uniformed men? Those people in black had seemed more like—
“I don’t think so,” Beck said. “That ship was white with a dragon snout painted on the front.” He kept running as he spoke, weaving through the maze of shipping containers. “They aimed at me first, I think. Then probably fired on the major’s soldiers because they fired at them. I’m not complaining, but we need to get inside somewhere. Hide until they go away.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Alisa said.
What else could she say? She couldn’t even demand to be set down, not until she figured a way out of the web. What a mess. She still had the orb, for all the good it had done. She didn’t know any more about her daughter’s whereabouts than she had the night before.
Chapter 12
“You’ve definitely gotten yourself in a mess, Captain,” Beck said as he carefully cut away the horrible black strands that seemed to stick to every inch of Alisa’s body.
“I wish I could say that it was the worst mess I’d experienced in the last twenty-four hours, but I think the sewer wins the contest.”
“Yes,” Mica said, wrinkling her nose.
They stood together in a family lavatory in the space base, the door locked to keep out others—the concourse had grown increasingly busy as the morning progressed. Mica leaned against a diaper-changing table while examining the remaining explosives in her purse. They were certainly a strange “family.”
“This is perhaps more humiliating than the previous mess,” Alisa added. “I hate being helpless. And needing to be saved.” Technically, Leonidas had saved her in the sewers too. This was not her day.
“Aw, I like saving people, Captain. It’s my job.”
“And I do appreciate that you were quick to do it, but that doesn’t make me feel better about myself.”
“Well, Captain—” Beck tugged some of the sticky netting off her back, “—that’s not my job. Maybe you could hire a therapist for the crew.”
“For a crew of three?”
Alisa arched her eyebrows at Mica, realizing that her entire crew of three was spending time in a family lavatory together. If she hadn’t been in a dour mood, she might have laughed. But she didn’t laugh. Seeing her entire tiny team there only made her realize that nobody she truly trusted was on her ship right now, and that men who were probably in the mood to shoot her right now m
ight be there instead. She hoped Leonidas and Alejandro had run down the ramp to look for her and had been locked out, as she and Mica had planned. She also hoped that, after they had realized they had been locked out, they had taken off looking for her, ideally in the wrong direction.
Mica waved toward the sink. “You may need to stick your head in water to get that goop out of your hair.”
“No opinion on the therapist, eh?” Alisa asked.
As Beck continued to cut the threads away, Alisa grabbed some of the sanitizing gel in the dispenser and rubbed it into her hair, hoping it would break the bonding agent.
“I’m sure Yumi can give you something if you want to improve your state of mind,” Mica said.
Alisa smiled bleakly. She had never experimented with drugs, unless one counted the occasional second-hand dosage acquired from walking through the rec room in the dorm at school, but the idea of using something to numb her aching brain—and ego—right now did have some appeal.
Her eyes ached, too, tired and gritty from lack of sleep. While it might have been wiser to wait a few hours—or a few days—before returning to the ship, she wanted to curl up in her bunk and pass out. She also had the notion that if Alejandro and Leonidas were still aboard, they might react less harshly if she returned the orb of her own free will.
Just took it out to get some fresh air, boys. You’re welcome…
“Think that’s as good as I can get with my knife, Captain,” Beck said, stepping back and eyeing her from head to toe. “Might need a woman’s touch to deal with the rest.” He looked at Mica.
Mica raised a frank eyebrow. “I have paint thinner and a welding torch in engineering.”
Alisa held up her hand. “I can manage the rest on my own. At least I can walk now.”
“Might need to run if your cyborg buddy is waiting at the ship for you,” Mica said.
Alisa picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, still hoping that Leonidas and Alejandro would be gone when she returned. But maybe it would be better if they weren’t gone. Then they would take back the orb, and that would be the end of her criminal career. If they were not there, she might be tempted to enact that plan she had envisioned, of finding the Starseers and trying to trade the orb for her daughter.