Page 49 of Hunted By the Wraiths
“The Raptor is coming,” Maris said. Defiant to the end.
“No, they’re not.” Vashil pulled out a datapad with a flourish. “See, I sent them a message. From yourship’scomm unit, back on The Quarry. The one you so helpfully left logged in. I told them you’d found another route and were running dark. That you’d meet them at the backup rendezvous in three days. They wished you luck and jumped out two hours ago. They’re your crew. They trust yourship’spersonal codes. They had no reason to question it.”
I felt something in Maris crack. Just a hairline fracture. Hope dying by degrees.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m really not.” Vashil turned the datapad so we could see. There it was—sent from our comm, received, acknowledged. Serak’s authentication code confirming receipt. “Your crew thinks you’re safe. They won’t even start worrying for another three days. By then, you’ll be in a Consortium lab, and I’ll be setting up my new operation on a station they’re giving me. Everyone wins. Except you, obviously.”
More soldiers entered. Fresh ones, no injuries. They’d held back reserves. I counted six more, plus the three still aiming at Maris, plus Vashil, plus however many were outside.
We were alone. Outgunned. Outmaneuvered. Bleeding.
Completely fucked.
“Cuff them,” Vashil ordered. “The special restraints for him. The ones rated for augmented strength. And dose him with something for the blood loss. Can’t have him dying before delivery.”
A soldier approached with a med-injector. I thought about fighting. One last surge, take as many with me as possible. But Maris caught my eye, gave the tiniest shake of her head.
Not yet, that look said. Not yet.
The injector hit my neck. Cold spread through my veins—coagulants, probably some stimulants to keep me conscious. The bleeding slowed. The room steadied slightly.
They cuffed me with restraints that hummed with their own power source. Electromagnetic locks. I’d seen these before. Day 1,744. They’d needed three guards to hold me down while they figured out the right settings.
“Move,” Vashil ordered. “We have a schedule to keep. The Consortium doesn’t like delays.”
They marched us out of the room. The corridor was a disaster—blood on the walls, injured soldiers being treated by medics, the Rigelian couple’s door hanging off its hinges. We’d fought harder than they’d expected.
Small comfort.
As they herded us toward the docking bay, past more soldiers, past scared Haven residents pressing themselves against walls, I caught Maris’s eye. She gave me the tiniest nod.
We weren’t done yet.
But we were very, very close.
The docking bay was full of Consortium ships. Not just Maris’s stolen vessel. Three military transports, enough to carry a full company. Vashil hadn’t just brought backup. She’d brought an army.
All for us.
MARIS
They marched us toward the docking bay. Thirty Consortium soldiers for two people. Either massive overkill or they’d read Thoryn’s file. Probably both.
I cataloged our situation. Three transports visible through the bay doors. My stolen ship sitting there like a monument to Vashil’s betrayal. Forty-seven meters to the nearest cover, which wouldn’t stop a determined sneeze. Thoryn bleeding through his shirt, leaving a trail of drops on the deck plating. My blaster confiscated, but they’d missed the knife in my boot. Amateur hour. Vashil walking ahead of us, not even bothering to look back. That would cost her.
Thoryn stumbled. Just slightly, but I caught it. The stimulants they’d given him were wearing off. At this rate, he had maybe twenty minutes before he passed out. Less if he had to fight.
“Move faster,” the soldier behind me said, prodding me with his rifle.
I considered seventeen different ways to take that rifle and shove it somewhere uncomfortable. Filed them for later.
The docking bay was a hive of activity. Soldiers loading equipment. Medics treating the injured from our fight. Acommand post being dismantled. Vashil had brought an entire operation just to collect us. I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or just annoyed.
“Load them on transport two,” Vashil ordered, still not looking at us. “Separate cells. I want?—”
The universe exploded.
