Stark Surrender (8 page)

Kiri shook her head, echoing his grimace of disbelief.

But as she walked across the cruiser to sit in one of the comfortable chairs, deep and wide and covered in skrog leather so soft they tempted one to curl up and stay, her nerves returned, full force. Kai moved to stand behind her, leaning on the back of her chair, and the others disposed themselves around the comfortable seating area.

The gangplank hissed shut behind them. Kiri eyed the sealed hatch, wishing it could remain open to the sunny afternoon. Then she wouldn’t feel so trapped, as if once again she were about to be swept into space under someone else’s control.

“All right,” Joran said, his deep voice drawing her gaze to where he stood. “Kiri, you know Logan is off the grid. What you don’t know, and I did not want to explain out on the concourse where anyone could use the intel to harm Logan or LodeStar, is that you were the last one of us to have spoken more than a few words with him before he disappeared.”

Kiri drew a sharp breath. Joran nodded, his face tight, before going on.

“He left your place. That same night, Logan inexplicably boarded, not one of his own space cruise liners, the Cassiopeia, which was waiting to take off from here, or even this, his fastest cruiser. Instead he bought passage on The Star Slider, a fast ship but one with questionable creds and a crew of reputed smugglers, headed for a first stop on Dardaan space station. And from there ... he vanished.”

“You think he was shanghaied?” Kai asked behind her, voicing the question that was stuck in Kiri’s throat like a shard of cerametal. Had space devoured Logan, another victim of its ravening hunger for unwary life-forms?

“No,” Bronc answered from his post by the hatch, where he stood, feet wide and massive arms crossed like a guard. “Not really, and here’s why. When Mr. Stark boarded the other ship, he gave a fake name. And when he deboarded on Dardaan station, he bribed the ship’s captain to forget that he and his crew had ever seen him.”

Kiri stared, her mind a blank. “But why would Logan do that?”

Bronc shrugged massively.

“I don’t understand any of this.” Kiri’s hands were clenched so tightly they shook. The rest of her was equally as tense.

“Neither do we, sweetie,” said Taara, her green eyes full of distress.

“Taara’s right,” said a new voice, quiet and deep. Creed Forth’s blue eyes were shadowed in his young, but hard face. “Kiri, from the way you described him, Logan is under stress. He’s definitely not behaving like himself. His exec assistant and Bronc noticed the same thing. We’re afraid he may even be ill—there are alien viruses that react in weird ways on the brains of beings from off-planet, ways our medtechs are studying but don’t yet understand. He’s been traveling a lot, and although he gets regular innoculations, he may have picked up something.’

‘Whatever the reason, he’s gone off the satcom,” he went on. “All we have to work with now is that Dardaan is a refueling stop used by many ships headed for Earth II—a planet to which Logan has a close connection. After checking the passenger manifests of all craft docking in the forty-eight hours after Star Slider, we found three human males boarded other ships, any one of whom could be him. One was on her way here to Frontiera. The other two were fast cruisers, bound for New Seattle”

“You think he’s gone back to Earth II?” Kiri seized on this to delay thinking about Joran’s other words. Logan might have some horrible alien virus eating at his very brain? Oh, please God, no.

“But if he wants to go back to his home on Earth II, why wouldn’t he board the Cassiopeia or the Arcturus? Travel in style.” She waved a hand at the luxe passenger area around them.

Bronc nodded. “Right. Our thoughts exactly.”

“I don’t get why you’re so worried,” Kai said. “Stark’s a law unto himself, from what I’ve gathered, and plays his own game. Why wouldn’t he decide to just take some time off the grid?”

“Fair question,” Bronc said. “But for those of us who know him well, there are some major signals. Before he left, Mr. Stark signed off on the Frontieran expeditions. But today he was due to vidconference with Prince Azuran of Aquarius about the prince’s upcoming visit. He also has other big deals in play, including one on Cirrius, where he’s supposed to be in three days. None of which he would just blow off.’

‘He might leave without informing us of the particulars of his trip, though that’s unlikely, but he would never do it so covertly, or at this time. Separately, each of those is odd—together they tell us something is wrong—badly wrong. So, we follow him.”

“Can’t you just link the New Seattle space port authorities to bring him in, or at least have the NSPD track him?” Kai asked.

Bronc shook his head. “Another great suggestion, but again, we don’t dare alert anyone that there’s a problem. With a corporation as vast as Lodestar, if word gets out there may be something weird going on with the CEO, the possibilities for disaster are as endless as space. The company founder goes off the grid, people lose confidence, stocks fall, and downward from there. Lot of folks would lose their jobs, Mr. Stark might lose everything. Once we get to New Seattle, maybe we can find some answers.”

“Oh, my God,” Kiri mumbled. That was a bleak picture. She wrapped her arms around her middle, shivering despite the warmth of the afternoon.

“But first we must find Logan.” Taara gave Kiri a pleading look. “Please come with us.”

Kiri pressed back in her chair, her stomach knotting, adding to her malaise. Travel all that way in this small cruiser, like an egg in a fragile shell being sling-shot through space?

“Oh, no. I just can’t.”

The others stared at her, Taara with sympathy, Joran frowning as if he were trying to figure her out, and Bronc with a scowl.

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Kiri had a horrible experience on her only other space journey,” Taara said.

“Yeah, we know about Tal Darkrunner’s shanghai move, tossing you on that old freighter,” Joran said impatiently. “What’s that got to do with traveling on a new, powerful, smooth cruiser like this one?”

“A lot, if it terrified her,” Kai snapped back. “So back off, all of you.”

He squatted at Kiri’s side, his hand on the arm of her chair. “You don’t want to go, you don’t have to,” he told her, his jaw set adamantly. “Say the word, and we go back to your place.”

Her heart swelled with sweet pain. Her brother was coming to her defense, even though really, he scarcely knew her. They were truly family once again.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She held his gaze, gathering strength for what she knew she had to do. “But I think I have to go with them.”

“Why?”

“Because, Logan saved me when I was down about as far as I could go. I can’t refuse to do the same.” And she didn’t want to refuse, which did not say good things about her intelligence, but oh well.

His hand brushed hers, warm and light as a feather. “Okay. If you’re going, I’m with you.”

Kiri searched his gaze wonderingly. “You ... you would? I mean, you will?”

He nodded. “If it’ll help you.”

Oh, it would—immeasurably. Family. They were family again.

“And we’ll all be here, too,” Lady Ellianne put in. “I’m not crazy about space travel myself, Kiri. Maybe you and I can hold hands if we get nervous.”

Nervous didn’t even begin to cover the emotions gnawing in Kiri’s middle. But this was for Logan. Even though they were no longer a couple, she could never turn her back on him if he was in trouble of any kind.

She managed a tiny smile for Kai, and turned back to the others, waiting with their gazes on her. All except Bronc, who was looking over her head at the man behind her, a small smile tipping up his wide mouth.

“Okay,” Kiri said. “We’ll come—Kai and I. If you think we can help.”

“Although Kiri’s only packed for one night, and I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back,” Kai added. “So you’ll have to give us time to go back to the condo.”

This was true. She wore a sundress and flats, he a sleeveless shirt and light pants, with woven sandals on his feet.

“We need to get underway,” Joran said. “We’ve already wasted enough time talking. You can borrow from one of us if you need anything on the flight. When we get there, New Seattle has some of the best shopping in the galaxy.”

“This is true,” Taara said, nodding enthusiastically.

Creed turned his head and gave her a chiding look. “We’re not goin’ to shop, sweetheart.”

She gave him back the same look. “I know, honey, but we have to get Kiri and Kai outfitted for cold, damp New Seattle autumn weather, so we may as well get them nice things. And since this is all for Logan, LodeStar can buy.”

His mouth quirked. “Can’t argue with that.”

Her smile said she knew this. He shook his head, but his blue eyes were warm as he pulled her closer to his side.

“Now will everyone please strap the hells in, so we can go?” Joran demanded in a way that said he didn’t know why they were even still discussing it.

Kiri still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go. A short delay would be nice to get used to the idea, or at least allow her brain to catch up with her big mouth. Why had she said yes? She should have said she had no one to work KK II, or something like that.

No, because Joran would just link LodeStar and instantly find someone to supervise her two baristas while she was gone. He might be an easy-going ex-pirate, but he had the same cerametal will as his older brother. When Logan was in his right mind, that is.

Oh, Logan, where are you? And why?

* * *

Creed and Taara were snuggled down in one of the four luxe, private sleep cubbies aboard the Arcturus. The cruiser thrummed steadily under them, the motion slight considering the speed with which they were hurtling through space. Joran and Zaë were across the passageway from them, Bronc alone in the next cubby. Kai had refused a bed, saying he’d sleep in one of the chairs in the cabin, near his sister.

“You feeling okay?” Creed asked, rubbing his hand up and down her bare arm under the covers. “Not nauseous or anything?”

She tipped her head back to give him an embarrassed smile in the glow of the lamp they hadn’t turned off yet. “I’m fine, honey. I only got sick on that one flight to LodeStone. I’d never flown in a cruiser, and Mae is kind of a daredevil.”

“She was showin’ off,” Creed said. “Tryin’ to impress you.”

Taara rolled her eyes. “I certainly didn’t impress anyone that night.”

His chest quivered against her back. “That’s not true. You impressed the hells out of me in that red dress—up until you nailed my boots with vomit.”

She kicked back at his leg with her bare heel. “Creed! I was scared out of my mind.”

His arm slid around her, holding her snugly in the cradle of his big, powerful body. “So was I, once I figured out why you were there.”

She giggled softly. “We were such deerbitts. And look at us now.” She sighed. “I wish everyone was as happy as we are.”

“I know Kiri’s your best friend,” he said quietly, “but you’ve gotta accept, caramel girl, it may never work between her and Logan.”

“She still loves him,” she insisted. “And he’s always wanted her back. Although, if we find out he’s off with some new woman right now, I’ll-I’ll ... take him down.” And she could do it, too, being Serpentian.

Creed made a soothing sound in her hair, his thumb stroking the slope of her breast, and her thoughts returned to him and the present.

“We’ll find Logan, won’t we, honey?” she asked. “We’ve just got to—for you and Joran, and for Kiri.”

“We’ll find him,” he agreed, his deep voice solid with conviction.

She smiled to herself. That was her man, strong and stable as the irridium he mined.

Wriggling around so she was facing him, she draped her upper leg over his lean hip. “I can’t sleep,” she murmured, trying to sound pathetic. “Can you help me?”

His big, calloused hand closed on her ass, bare under her short silk nightie, and he pulled her closer, his soft lips curving against hers. His beautiful eyes gleamed, and she felt his cock twitch in his thin sleep pants.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I can help with that.”

Chapter Eight

On a dark, foggy street under a sign advertising cheap rooms, a human nudged his partner, a lean Serpentian, and indicated the lone man walking down the middle of the thoroughfare.

The two slipped out of their hiding place, and split up to stalk the stranger. Their prey was big for a human, tall and lean with the easy stride of an athlete, but there were two of them and he’d ventured alone into this area, so he was new and thus vulnerable. Also, he wore high-quality leathers that would make their risk worthwhile, and he might have some good stuff in the bag over his shoulder.

The stranger paused on the corner to let an airbus lumber by, then crossed the street behind a group of aircycles idling slowly along, the riders leathered and helmeted, most with a partner riding pillion. They bore the insignia of one of the local gangs, an old-fashioned digital clock with the numbers broken by a red laser beam. The Time Outers.

The stranger paused to survey the café open on the corner, a noodle shop, then walked on, toward the bar next door.

The Serp hissed in frustration, but his partner snickered. “No problem. He comes out with Raly’s rotgut in his system, he’ll be easy to roll.”

They settled in to wait, but the stranger did not reappear. At least not through the front entrance. When the human of the pair finally ventured inside the bar, the man was gone.

“Shit,” he swore viciously.

He slammed back outside, and around the corner to the alley, where his partner waited. He stopped short when he saw the Serp lying flat on the ground, face down.

Something hard poked him in the back, and he froze.

“I’m here to stay,” a deep voice said in his ear. “Try for me again, and I’ll kill you, instead of giving you a friendly warning.”

Then something crashed down on his skull and the wet, filthy pavement leapt up to smack him in the face.

Lode relieved the second thug of his weapons as he had the first. He examined the array, then carried most of them into the pub, where he presented them to the burly, ebony-skinned bartender.

“For the defense of your business,” he said, dropping two blades, a stunner and a laser weapon on the bar.

The man stared from him to the weapons and back. Then he raised his brows. “And what d’you expect in return?”

“Maybe a drink from your best stock,” the stranger suggested. “Instead of what you serve over the bar.”

The bartender narrowed his eyes. “Ain’t payin’ for protection from nobody.”

“And why should you, when you have a laser weapon of your own, and holocams tracking everything outside both doors,” Lode agreed. “Not to mention your woman keeping watch with a weapon ready. No, I don’t want anything from you, except mutual respect.”

The bartender turned his gaze on the statuesque, dark woman in red sitting under a holovid of singing star Chaz Jaguari crooning a smoky tune. She shrugged, and he looked back to Lode.

“Sounds fair to me. I’m Tok. What do they call you?”

The stranger nodded back. “Call me Lode. Who’s Raly?”

“I’m Raly,” said a contralto voice.

Lode turned to find the woman in red standing with one hand on the bar, the other on her scarlet-clad hip. She assessed him coolly, then nodded to Tok, who turned and reached for a cabinet behind the bar. It swung open and he pulled out a bottle of golden liquor. Expertly palming three small glasses, he poured a measure into each one, and slid two across the bar.

Raly lifted her glass to Lode. “Here’s to you. May the slimers you took these weapons off of not come for you in the dark of the moon.”

He returned the salute. “And when they do, may I not have to kill them on your doorstep.”

Tok’s white teeth gleamed in a smile. “That wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary.”

Lode drained his glass and set it down. “I figured as much.”

“Come in any time,” Raly offered.

“Thank you. Good night.”

As he walked out into the foggy night, Raly sauntered around the bar to stand beside her man. “Now who is he, really?”

“Don’t know, my dove, but I got a feeling that’s not the last we’ll hear of him.”

“Which could be bad or good for us.”

“Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t wanna be the one who tries to take him down.”

* * *

Lode stopped in the foggy shadows to one side of the bar and leaned against the damp outer wall. He shouldn’t have drunk the whiskey—it had gone straight to his head. Hadn’t dulled the pain, but now his legs and back felt rubbery. If he didn’t find shelter for the night, he’d be in trouble.

He scanned the street, looking for a hotel sign, and found one at the end of the street on the far side. He straightened, shook his head to clear it—a mistake, as the movement shot new bolts of pain through his skull. Then he moved out.

Across the way, a lone prostitute stood, her brief dress glittering in the acidgel-bright holomarquee of another bar, this one advertising sex booths upstairs. Her blonde hair shone in the lights, and as she cocked her head to smile at a passerby, the cosmetics on her face and enhanced breasts sparkled. She would’ve been beautiful if she weren’t too thin under those bulbous breasts, and shivering in the damp chill of the night.

As the well-dressed man passed her, she said something to him, moving to best display her body.

He paused, looked her over and sneered before shaking his head.

Her smile disappeared. “Yeah, like you’re any better, cruising down here lookin’ for sex,” she called after him.

As Lode crossed the street, the prostitute gave him her smile, thrusting out one hip. “Hello, there. You look like you could use some company.”

He nodded to her and would have passed on, but a red slider with glittering black trim glided to the curb beside her, and another man stepped out. He was clad in a black duster flashy as the slider, huge rings on both hands, and a slouch hat angled over his face. Despite the darkness, he wore goggles with bright glow rims.

“Liss,” he purred, setting his hand on the blonde’s back and smirking at Lode. “That ain’t how you do it, how many times I hafta tell you? Ya gotta work that body.”

The blonde hunched as if waiting for a blow. “Sorry, Vince. I can do better.”

Vince laughed, a falsely hearty sound, and gestured to Lode. “Sure you will. And here’s how you do it, bitch.” He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, then ran his other hand down over her body to the hem of her dress, and yanked it up to reveal her thighs and bare mons. “You show him the goods, and tell ‘im he can have it all for fifty credits.”

The blonde’s face glistened in the holovid light, this time with tears. “Okay, sure.”

A small, skinny man emerged from the slider, and leaned on it, watching. He wore a suit as red as the slider, and heavy cosmetics, his hair gelled high on his head. “Have her do him right here, Vince. I like to watch.” He giggled, a girlish sound.

“Not interested,” Lode said. “Let her go.”

The pimp’s head went back in exaggerated shock. “Let her go? Man, this snatch is my property. Ain’t you, Liss?”

She whimpered as he pulled harder on her hair. “Y-yes, Vince.”

At this angle, Lode could see old bruises on her throat, and one cheek was puffy under her cosmetics. “You have other whores?” he asked.

The pimp laughed again. “Sure I do, sure I do. I can getcha whatever you want. Young and tender or experienced like Liss here. Multiples too. Just show me the credit.”

“You bruise the rest of them the way you do her?”

“Hey, what’re you, some kinda do-gooder? Or a cop? We don’t like cops around here. This bitch owes me for takin’ care of her. She’s out here to pay off her debt, is all.”

Lode palmed his laser. “Let her go.”

Vince’s eyes widened as he saw the weapon. He gave the blonde a shove that made her stumble toward Lode. “You want her? Take her—have a free one on me, man.”

Swiveling smoothly, Lode fired. A red streak cut through the night, and the pimp’s friend fell back against the slider with a squeal, dropping the weapon he’d drawn.

“No!” the pimp shouted, shoving his hand into the pocket of his duster. “No, not Rat! You’re dead, you bastard.”

Catching the woman in his free hand and yanking her out of the way, Lode fired again. With a scream, Vince doubled forward, clutching his side, and fell to the wet sidewalk beside his friend, cursing and moaning. “You … shot me. Bitch, get over here and help me.”

The blonde looked to Lode, her eyes wide with shock and fear. He shrugged, indicating she should do whatever she wanted. She hesitated for a long moment, then walked slowly to the pimp and bent to him.

“Hurry up, baby,” he groaned. “Help me. I linked the medtechs—but you gotta help me stop the bleeding.”

“You want me to help you?”

“Yes, you stupid cunt.” His face twisted with agony. “Don’t just stand there. Use your fuckin’ head for a change.”

She moved then. But instead of tending his wound, she wrenched the laser from his hand, backed up a few steps, and aimed the weapon at him. It shook wildly in her grasp, and she looked to Lode again, as if for approval.

“Do what you like with him,” he said.

“You want my help,” she repeated to Vince. “Remember last week when that Serp hurt me bad? I wanted your help then … but you didn’t give it to me. You didn’t call the cops or the medtechs. Nor any of the other times you let males do whatever they wanted to me. You just took their credit.”

“Liss, baby,” he gasped, his eyes widening in horror.

“Goodbye, you bastard.” She fired, hitting him between his glittering lapels. The pimp jerked and went still as the first raindrops splattered onto his face.

She dropped the weapon with a clatter and backed away, eyes wide. “Oh, my God. I killed Vince. Now what am I gonna do?”

“You can come with me, or stay. Your choice,” Lode said. “If you come with me, I’ll protect you. I’m sure your pimp has other friends.” Whom Lode was not afraid to also kill if they came after them.

He needed an ally, someone who knew this area, and yet was vulnerable enough to need him. If the whore wanted his protection, she was less likely to betray him for a dose of whatever drink or drug she favored.

For a moment she gaped at him, face slack with shock. Then she flinched as raindrops struck her face, and ducked back under the awning. “C’mon, we gotta get under cover. The rain will burn you.”

Lode pulled a retractable hood from the collar of his jacket, and tugged it forward to shelter his face, casting a swift, assessing look around.

A few passersby had stopped to watch from the deep shadow of awnings and doorways, but no one raised a protest at what had happened. Under his gaze, some drew farther back into the shadows. Others cast furtive looks back as they scuttled away.

Not one mentioned linking the police.

Lode squatted to rifle through the dead pimp’s pockets, ignoring the stench of overpowering cologne, burnt flesh and loosed bowels. He searched with swift efficiency, pocketing the weapons. The man stared sightlessly into the garish lights, his face slack and witless in death.

With an effort, because his hands were shaking now from exhaustion, Lode yanked the pimp’s com from his ear, and wrapped it in a bright lii silk handkerchief he’d found in a pocket along with a fancy blade and a second laser weapon.

Then he looked up. “You want his coat?”

The whore cowered against the building, shaking her head. “No. No. I don’t want nothin’ of his.”

“You need a coat. Who’s his friend?”

“Rat.”

“Suited him. This his slider?”

She nodded, then said with a burst of spirit, “I’ll have Rat’s coat. He don’t smell as bad as Vince.”

“Good,” he said. “It’s all ours now.”

She scurried out to divest the smaller man of his red leather duster and huddled into it. “What d’you mean, it’s all ours?”

He opened the near door of the slider, and gestured for her to get in. “They don’t need it anymore. You and I do. Stick with me. Maybe things will be better.”

She shrugged, the long coat flapping around her like the wings of a wounded raven, the only birds that still flew these dirty skies. “Whatever.”

She got in, and he walked around to the pilot’s side and slid in. He had to step over the former owner to do so.

“You just gonna leave them here?” she asked.

He ignited the slider thrusters, and it rumbled smoothly to life beneath them. “You think they’ll lie there long?”

She shook her head. “No, you’re right. Before the medtechs or cops arrive, they’ll be rolled for whatever’s left, and the bodies dumped in the bay or the nearest incinerator.”

She nodded at the red glow lighting the night sky behind a large building and shivered. “Hope I never end up there.”

“If you do, you won’t care,” he pointed out. “You’ll be dead.”

Liss lived in a tiny room eighteen floors up in an old apartment building where the passageways and elevators stank of urine and vomit. But it was shelter for the night, and Lode had reached his limits physically. He parked the slider in an empty stall in the building’s port, shouldered his duffel and followed her.