Page 133 of Throwing Fire

“Well done,” I echo back to her. “Thank you, Payton.”

“Bring Kez home,” Payton responds.

“I will,” I promise.

We landin what probably started as a gathering of Ojos but has escalated into a full-blown riot. Bottles and other handy trash ping off the underside of the Infinity as we descend. The rioters aren’t suicidal, fortunately, and scatter before my ship crushes them.

The Infinity rocks precariously as it settles into the sand, then levels itself. Good ship.

I climb out of my flight harness and extend my hand to Exeter. Pull him out of his seat. He’s pale under his tan from the gees but checks his equipment like the pro he is as we gear up in the hold.

“So I’m clear on the mission parameters—” he begins.

“Retrieve Kez by whatever means necessary.”

“The presence of the Cloudland authorities may hamper my ability to use the big gun.”

I nod. “Then use the little one. Tyng will cover you. Our second-in-command has been abducted by people who have tried to kill her before. We do whatever it takes to recover her.”

“Clear,” Exeter says with a nod.

I finish strapping my katanas over my body armor and test my draw. “Clear.Let’s go.”

He follows me out of the hold, stands at my side as the ramp cycles down to deposit us on the chaotic sands.

I’m not sure if I’m looking at a riot, an insurrection, or a beach party.

The old desal plant rises in ragged columns and half-collapsed storage blocks ringing the southern edge of the beach. The Eff Tubes are somewhere beyond it, closer to the port. Kez and I never came this far before we found a friendly tube in which to spend the night. Maybe a hundred people have gathered between the desal plant and the far end of the beach which rises in a crumbling cliff. Their clusters are broken by dozens of tubes sticking out of the sands. Two of the tubes are on fire, flames leaping above the half-naked people dancing around them, smoke spreading into a dull haze over the beach. Another tube has some kind of holo set up in it and is projecting a glimmering, green DJ two meters overhead, who blasts a fast beat over the sands.

Always good to have a soundtrack for your riot.

There are as many people dancing, drinking, making out as there are holding signs and chanting, demanding water rights. There’s a line of C.P. in white uniforms close to the desal plant, but they don’t seem to be engaging. They’ve just established a line to keep the riot, or party, from spreading toward the port.

What I don’t see in the mayhem is my kitten. Or any rats. Or anyone wearing Tyng insignia.

I turn my head until I find the huge skimmer. It’s docked at the third of three piers stretching into the placid ocean. I would have said the crumbling piers were abandoned if not for the Tyng skimmer and two other ships berthed at them. There’s no movement along the piers except for the gentle swaying of the skimmers.

“Doesn’t look like they’re unloading,” I say to Exeter.

He shakes his head. “Are we investigating?”

Since I don’t see anything else worth my attention, I nod.

I close up the Infinity and wait until its shields come down. The rioters,and partiers, have moved away from us but the ship’s an easy target once we leave.

Exeter follows me as I trudge across the hard pack to the pier. Sweat beads on my cheeks and the back of my neck, rolls down my spine; it has nothing to do with the bright, late spring day. I somehow thought I’d land and find Kez immediately. Maybe fight my way through a couple of Ojos first. I promised her I’d be here waiting for her. It’s been too long. I shouldn’t have gone to Hemos to interrogate Myhre. Maybe they’ve moved Kez somewhere so Jaxon can take his time with her.

What if I can’t find her?

What if I never find my kitten?

I shake the doubt away. Kez won’t give up. She’s smart. She’s a fighter. She’ll do everything she can to delay them, to say alive until I find her. I can’t let doubt or fear or anything else distract me from what I’m here to do. I have one job: get my kitten back. And I’m going to do it.

From the top of the pier, the deck of the skimmer shimmers in the day’s heat. I don’t see any movement. I’d give a lot for a scanner that could pierce the skimmer’s hull and show me whether there are any heat signatures below decks or whether this is a wild kemwar chase.

I draw my kukri, roll my shoulders, and kick off down the pier at a run. I’ve got no reason to think anyone on the skimmer has a range weapon pointed at me but no reason to think otherwise, either. After all, Dom Fox managed to get his hands on a mag gun. Faster a target moves, the harder it is to hit.

Exeter keeps up with me, his “little gun” in hand.

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