Mercenaries (9 page)

Well, at least Trin had one good memory to cherish out of all this, though she figured the elder would make her pay for it. She only wished she'd had time to ride Nathan's magnificent cock. Even if he let her down in the end, the sex had been fantastic. And it was worth it, just to thumb her nose at the elders.

The big transport's engines began to growl, a low rumble she could feel in her bones. Ahead of her, the massive airlock door opened, revealing a bright spill of stars against the blackness.

The cargo vessel lifted off
Starrunner
's deck, rocked from side to side before it stabilized, then shot forward like an arrow from a bow. Acceleration pushed Trin back in her seat as the pink curve of Orville's Paradise spilled below. Grimly she watched it swell larger and larger as the cargo craft swooped down.

She'd come so close to getting away.

DAMN,
Trin thought in dismay as she stepped out of the cargo craft behind Nathan and Sebastian.
Every man in town is here.

The crowd of a hundred that Nathan had described had swelled to well over a thousand, all of them male. At least they'd left the women and children at home.

The entire mob marched across the paved landing pad toward the two
Starrunner
craft, faces grim, obviously ready for a fight. She saw with dismay that every one of them was armed with the projectile weapons that were all the Prophet allowed.

Of course, guns wouldn't do much good against the mercenaries, who wore body armor and helmets. Trin, on the other hand, felt like a sitting duck in her unisuit.

Nathan swore and turned to Sebastian. “Get her back inside and give her somebody's armor. These bastards look like they're ready to start shooting.”

The blond nodded and caught Trin by the arm. “Come on, kid,” he said to her. “Let's find you something else to wear.” Sebastian turned to the female trooper standing by the door, waiting to move out with the rest. “Hey, Shamilin—looks like you're going to be sitting this one out. We need to borrow your suit.”

FIVE minutes later, Trin adjusted her new chest plate while the trooper knelt in front of her, tightening the borrowed greaves over her boots. “It's a little big,” Corporal Shamilin told her, a cheerful smile on her dark face, “but it'll do.”

Sebastian clapped Trin on the shoulder. His gaze was steady as he told her, “You'll be fine, kiddo. And no, Nathan is not going to hand you over to those people. When he gives his word, he keeps it.”

“Sure.” She'd believe it when she was back onboard the
Starrunner
. The situation was just too dangerous, and giving her back would be too easy.

Hell, maybe it was the right thing to do. Was her freedom worth the lives of Nathan's crew—or even the lives of the colonists themselves? How many people would die if shooting broke out?

But if she went back, Trin knew she was dead herself. Maybe not now, but within the year. Maybe two, tops. Or less, if that abusive bastard Andy Makerson bought her.

As she and Sebastian walked down the transport's ramp, her knees were shaking, but Trin managed to keep her face expressionless. She hadn't walked to the Sinner's Post all those times for nothing.

Nathan was standing several meters from the transport, locked in argument with Elder Jones. Just behind Jones stood a phalanx of colony elders, along with the sheriff and Andy Makerson. Nathan himself was flanked by a hundred hard-faced troopers who scanned the massed colonists with wary eyes.

They were outnumbered ten-to-one. True, the mercs were armed with beamers, and their nanotech implants made them more than a match for anything human. It still wasn't a good situation. Trin's heart sank even more.

“There you are!” As they joined the group, Sheriff Makerson stepped forward, grabbed her by the forearm, and jerked her toward him. “Come here, you little slut!”

Sebastian's beamer appeared an inch from the sheriff's face. He'd moved so fast, Trin hadn't even seen him draw the weapon. “Let her go or die, dirtsucker.”

Fear widened the sheriff's eyes before he recovered enough to sputter, “Now, look, this isn't your affair. She's one of our flock and—”

“No,” Trinity gritted, jerking free of his hold. “I'm not. I never was.”

“Ms. Yeager, if you'll join us?” Nathan had turned to watch the byplay.

Trin moved to his side, Sebastian at her shoulder like a blond angel of vengeance.

“I was just explaining to the elders that you have applied to join my crew,” Nathan told her steadily. “And I've accepted your application.”

Jones's face flushed with rage.

Trin took a certain wicked pleasure in smiling sweetly up at her lover. Might as well enjoy this while it lasted. “Yes, Captain. I look forward to serving with you.”

“From what we hear, you've already been serving him, you little whore,” Andy Makerson snarled.

Nathan's blue gaze whipped to his. “That's enough.” He didn't draw his weapon, but there was cold death in his eyes. Andy swallowed and looked away. “In any case,” the captain continued, after an icy pause, “you can see she's leaving of her own free will.”

“No!” Jones turned toward her, his expression a blend of outrage and a surprising desperation. “Trinity, you can't mean to defile yourself with this mongrel! Just look at him! It's obvious—”

“No, actually, it's not obvious,” Trin interrupted, taking a grim joy in finally telling an elder what she thought. “I have no idea what you're talking about. And I don't particularly care. I'm joining Captain August's crew, and I'm getting as far away from you and this bigot's paradise as I possibly can.”

“You can't!”

“She can,” Nathan snapped, his voice dropping to a tone of chilling menace that had the elder shooting him an intimidated glance. Trin smiled at him in gratitude.

“You don't understand,” Jones tried again, raising his voice in entreaty. “Trinity, we never told you this, because, well—” He broke off, obviously at a loss.

Trin folded her arms and lifted a brow, beginning to enjoy herself. It was petty of her, she knew, but having the upper hand over the elder was a rare, sweet pleasure. “Yes?”

“You're a direct descendent of Prophet Orville himself!”

NATHAN lifted his brows in surprise. Here was a twist he hadn't seen coming.

Trinity's jaw dropped.
“What?”

“That's why your father applied to immigrate here. Why we accepted you. He provided a gene scan proving he was a direct descendent of the Prophet.” Jones extended a pleading hand, but she stepped warily back. “And so are you, Trinity.”

Confusion and disbelief flashed over her mobile face. “I thought the Prophet was a celibate.”

“He was, but he had a wife. She divorced him when he announced he had been Touched by the Maker. They had two children. You're the great-great-great”—Jones waved a hand, obviously not sure how many
greats
there were—“granddaughter of the Prophet's eldest son.”

Nathan frowned, surprised at the stab of disappointment he felt. That obviously put a different spin on things. If Trinity was some kind of hereditary prophet, she had an excellent reason to stay.

“So?” Trin propped her fists on her hips. “Assuming you're even telling the truth, what difference does that make?”

The crowd gasped in outrage. Nathan rocked back in surprise at her cold dismissal of the idea.

Jones spread his hands. “Child, you could be the
mother
of the next Prophet.”

Her gaze was flat and steady. “But you don't believe I could become a prophet myself.”

The elder blinked. “Well, no, of course not. You're female.”

“Riiiiight.”

Sensing he was losing her, he started talking again. “But your son could be a prophet. Think of it, Trinity! You'll be honored above all women. . . .”

“That's not saying much.” As Jones sputtered, Trin stepped closer to him until they were almost nose to nose. He was several inches taller than she was, but she didn't look intimidated. “Tell me something, Elder. Did you know I was the Prophet's descendent the last time you tied me to the Sinner's Post and ordered me whipped?”

He shifted under her cold stare. “You were in error, child. You needed to be shown the Way.”

“Yeah, sure. Tell the truth, Elder—you enjoyed ordering the Prophet's offspring whipped, didn't you? I thought at the time you were even more excited than usual before a beating, but I didn't know why. Now I do.”

The beefy blond in the uniform stepped closer, ignoring Nathan's warning glare. “This is why the elders never told you. We knew you'd take on airs!”

“Yeah, there's nothing as uppity as a woman who doesn't think you've got a right to beat her.” Trin's lips thinned as she looked the blond over. Nathan tensed, sensing how close the bastard was to exploding. “I wondered why you were so hot to marry me. You're hoping you sire the next Prophet!”

The blond sneered. “I certainly wouldn't want an arrogant little whore like you for any other reason.”

“Yeah, well, no son of mine is going to grow up to be a con man,” Trin snapped. She lifted her voice until it rang over the crowd. “Which is exactly what Orville was. His so-called ‘prophesies' are just a mishmash of thefts from a dozen other religions, from Christianity to—”

Jones huffed in outrage. “How dare you imply our Prophet was influenced by a false faith started by a Jew!”

“Try reading a Bible sometime, Elder. Oh, that's right—you can't get one here, can you? They're forbidden. Ever wonder why?”

“Harlot!” somebody in the crowd screamed.

“Heretic!”

Nathan had heard enough. “Okay, that's it.” He turned to his troopers. “Clear a path for the ground transport to bring in the food. Anybody gives you trouble, shoot 'em.” To Trinity, he added, “Come along, Ms. Yeager. We're heading back to the ship.”

The elder looked horrified. “No! Trinity, you can't mean to pollute the Prophet's bloodline by fornicating with this mongrel. . . .”

Trin shot him a glittering look. “Actually—yeah. Every chance I get. In fact, I was giving the captain a blow job when this grand-stand act of yours interrupted. I plan to take up where we left off the minute we get back to the ship.” As the elder gaped at her, she added in a clear, carrying voice, “You know, Nathan's got a
really
big dick. Which, God knows, is something I'd never get the chance to experience if I stayed here.” She curled her lip. “I mean, judging from the erections I see whenever you guys beat somebody.”

Nathan had to bite his lip to stifle his bellow of laughter.