Vanquished (20 page)

Chapter
Ten

Calling on his
self-control, Vayne took his chair on the bridge and put all thoughts of Neira
aside—or as far aside as he could. His crew cast sidelong glances,
then
settled into their tasks. Leric updated him and he had
brief conversations with the commanders of the other ships. He didn’t know any
of them well, but their records were exemplary, all of them, and he had full
confidence they’d manage the Outriders without having to produce Rush.

“Take us out of the
Falls
, all necessary speed and in defense formation
only.” No sense in provoking the Home World ships.

“Sir.”
Leric ensured his
commands were followed and the future began to unfold.

In a surprisingly
short time, the helm reported the other ships within sensor range and they were
hailed.

“Captain Franks.
Home World.
Permission to come on board.”
It was difficult to really tell anything from the other man’s voice, but to
Vayne it lacked certainty, even if the request was framed more as a demand.

The other three
Shadalla ships were using the cover of the
Falls
to
flank the Outriders—if all went well and Vayne’s efforts were distracting
enough.

Vayne identified
himself, then denied Frank’s request and asked the reasoning. “The Home World
and the Shadalla have a treaty. Explain why you would presume to have the right
to board us.”

Upon ascertaining
Vayne’s rank and status, the other captain very obviously became flustered. “We
have reason to believe you have a criminal on your ship.
Perhaps
someone who went aboard under false pretense.”

So they were going
that route. Not a rescue mission, then,
cleverly avoiding
any implication that the Shadalla were kidnapping human females and thus upping
the ante. That woman—Toya—must have made a transmission. Vayne again refused
and refuted the idea that he harbored any criminals, even if having the
ambassador on board begged that assertion. They went back and forth, with the
threats escalating on the Outrider captain’s side and resolute resistance on
his.

The other man
closed the com and Vayne’s crew increased their alert status. He wondered if
the Outriders were seeking direction from the Home World and weren’t receiving
any, seeing as Vayne had the person ultimately directing them, in a cell on his
vessel. He hoped they would withdraw, not wishing to threaten a treaty that had
taken a very long time to negotiate.

“Sovereign?”
Captain Franks finally hailed again and it actually made Vayne start, the
tension so thick that the air on the bridge felt difficult to inhale.

“Captain?”

“Accept our
apologies. We are withdrawing.
An error.”

Keeping his
reaction under control, Vayne gravely acknowledged the other man and listened as
his helmsmen reported that the Outriders were grouping in an apparent flight
formation. He was at the end of a long exhale when weapons fire was reported.

Leaping to his
feet, he barked out a demand for clarification even as his helmsman took
evasive action.

“Not
sure, sir.”
Leric frantically worked his panel. “One of our ships fired on
an Outrider!”

Chaos reigned in
the next several stints as his ship withdrew to the
Falls
at highest possible speed and the others withdrew on his orders, giving the
Outriders a wide berth. The battle was over almost as soon as it began, thanks
to the lack of combatants and the apparent reluctance of the Outriders to
pursue, now that they realized Vayne’s ship wasn’t alone. The
Tomodr
escaped any fire, but two of the
other ships weren’t as lucky. Fortunately there were no fatalities, but one
cruiser was crippled and an evacuation was in order, leaving only a skeleton
crew on board in deference to the damaged life support. The Outriders sustained
minimal damage, something Captain Franks conveyed when Vayne again made
contact. Leric had advised there’d been an accidental firing from one of those
ships, and Vayne ordered an investigation.

“An
accidental firing, Captain.
We’ll be happy to make recompense for damages. Send the information
to our embassy on the Home World.”

With a sharp
comment about untrained crew and trigger happy individuals, the captain led the
rest of the Home World ships in the direction of Earth. The Shadalla bided
their time until certain they were once again alone in this area of space.

“Orders,
sir?”

“See to it that the
other captains arrange for the crew of the disabled ship to be distributed
amongst the others and a salvage operation organized. And have the hunters
return to pick up Rush, take him to Nibiru. We’ll escort him but I don’t want
him on
Tomodr
.”
Especially
now that he didn’t need him.
“The others can stay behind to shelter the
disabled ship.”

Vayne really didn’t
need to issue any of those orders, other than the one concerning the
ambassador. His military were all well trained—despite some idiot’s accidental
weapon discharge—but he wanted to reinstate his control. It was unnecessary in
truth, but nothing about this mission had been without its twists and turns.
Without waiting for Leric’s confirmation, he took his leave and went to await
the hunters, knowing Rush would be at the boarding dock shortly. He paused only
to contact Neira and give her a summary of the events. The relief in her voice
and her heartfelt if halting expressions of support made him even more
determined to return to her as soon as he rid his ship of a certain vermin.

The contingent of
hunters that boarded the
Tomodr
consisted of three males, all fit and combat toughened, if their cocky
attitudes were anything to go by. One was even taller than the rest, an amazing
specimen, indeed. He sported heavy bandages around his face, nearly concealing
his features. He looked strangely familiar regardless, but Vayne was distracted
by the arrival of Rush, who protested bitterly as he was towed along by one of
the loading dock crew. He made a mental note to find out the wounded hunter’s
identity and offer recompense.

“Sovereign?” Leric
spoke at his shoulder, having joined him under the cover of the ambassador’s
futile rhetoric. “You’re required on the bridge for a transmission.”

“Have them relay it
here,” he said irritably. He wanted to oversee Rush’s transfer.

“It’s coded.”

With an abrupt nod,
he strode away, but not before telling Leric to keep the ambassador in place
until he returned. Upon gaining the bridge, he determined the message was
indeed coded, and puzzling. Annis was dead.
Murdered.
No lingering, unpleasant death for him, but a quick one, immediately after the
hunter had delivered him to the ghetto. The fine hair on the nape of his neck
lifted as he considered what might have transpired. Shaking his head, knowing
he’d wait for answers, he made his way back to where Rush waited, the confines
of the lift a burden on his senses.

He stepped out at
the boarding dock—and into chaos. Rush’s slight form lay sprawled and bloody,
the body of a hunter slumped beside him, his head battered misshapen. A second
hunter clasped a bad gut wound, his back against the hull. Leric was defending
himself against the bandaged warrior, the body of Vayne’s crew member near his
feet. Vayne freed his blade and rushed forward on a roar, but he distracted
Leric, who caught a vicious slash across the shoulder as a result. A great
spray of blood accompanied the injury and his exec wobbled, then collapsed.

Blinded by the
crimson wash of Leric’s blood, the big, bandaged male was easily brought down
by a hard blow to the temple from the butt of Vayne’s knife, crashing to the
floor in a loose welter of limbs. Vayne was already ripping a sleeve from his
uniform and attempting to staunch his exec’s wound. An artery had been severed
and a tourniquet had to be applied in an extremely difficult place. The coms
were down, so that meant getting his friend stabilized and to medical on his
watch alone. He worked frantically, his hands wet and slippery with the other
male’s hot blood.

****

Neira’s query to
the bridge was initially met with silence before Eltrast identified himself.
“The sovereign is overseeing the transfer of the prisoner, my lady.”

Thanking him, she
considered. The battle was over, with the Outriders discouraged and heading
home. If it hadn’t been for that undisciplined shot someone had taken there
wouldn’t have even been a battle—skirmish, as Vayne termed it in their very
brief conversation. It had caused her concern, regardless, for she hated
feeling impotent, not to mention this unsettled feeling that persisted.
Paranoia should be a thing of her past. She wanted, no,
needed
, to see
Vayne, and wasn’t content to merely hear from him.

Deciding it would
be okay for her to see Rush transferred, she ran her hands over her tunic and
leggings. Vayne was clearly serious about keeping her naked and she was lucky
her clothes weren’t rags.
Another thing to discuss and reach
a compromise on, because while the sex was amazing and she wouldn’t turn it
down, this whole naked thing was over the top.
Although it did mean they
could get right down to it. She laughed at her transparency. Vayne wouldn’t be
after her all the time once the initial draw wore off. She couldn’t imagine
when that might be, however, if he felt as strongly about consummating their
union as she did.
Often and thoroughly.

On impulse, she
snatched out her
palka
and her blade,
tucking the latter into her boot and stroking the polished wood of her favored
weapon. She didn’t question the need to arm herself while trying to dismiss the
discomfort in her belly. Maybe Vayne would agree to some sparring before they
got underway, to bleed off her anxiety that had mounted as she waited. The
horizontal exercise was one thing, but she needed to pair her body with her
brain and sparring with her sovereign would do the trick.

The
crew were
going about their business, and all gave her
respectful nods, most accompanied by a slightly raised brow. She wasn’t
supposed to be wandering around without Vayne, but surely that was just on his
planet. His
crew were
disciplined individuals and with
the recent
skirmish
had enough to
occupy their time, standing down and checking systems and all. She might not
understand starships but battles were battles and the aftermath required
examining and securing weapons, tending to any injuries, debriefing and the
like. That was how they got better at what they did.

Gaining the lift,
she took it to the boarding deck, a sense of anticipation and that little lick
of worry niggling at her. She would probably disappoint Vayne by leaving their
quarters unescorted, she decided, hence the concern, but it was too late. The
door hissed open and a nightmare unfolded.

Her sovereign was
crouched over the prostrate form of a crew member, a red trail of blood all
around him. Four other bodies lay in the unmistakable posture of death, like a
child’s carelessly discarded figurines. Rush was one of them. Her reality
unfolded in slow motion as her vision narrowed on the bandaged male moving
swiftly toward Vayne, who had raised his head to look in her direction, no
doubt drawn by the sound of the lift.

“
Your
six!” Her scream of warning caused Vayne to jerk from his stance but not enough
to put any effective distance between him and the descending blade that pierced
his back. The blow slammed it in to the hilt. Then it was withdrawn and raised
to strike again as her lifemate’s big body stiffened and crumpled on top of the
man he had been ministering to.

Muscle memory kicking
in, Neira whipped the
palka
at that
hand gripping the knife. It smashed with resounding effect, pulling a yowl of
pain and fury from the big male before rebounding and bouncing across the floor
in her direction. She ran to scoop it up and face her opponent over Vayne’s
still form. The floor was littered with the dead and she wished she could risk
a check of her sovereign’s pulse.
Because surely he wasn’t
one of them.
That would be too much for her to bear, worse than anything
she’d experienced in her life. Her belly clenched hard and she fought to stay
focused on the enemy.

Cradling his
injured hand in his other, the alien male straightened to his full height. She
couldn’t make out his features, shrouded as they were by the field bandages
utilized when the medics with all their technology weren’t immediately
available.
Old school.
Her battle senses calmed her as
she assessed the situation, setting Vayne’s predicament aside for now. He
wasn’t dead. He wasn’t. But help was two decks up and the alien was between her
and the only exit—and the com was smashed.
Do
or die, Neira.

“So, we
come
full circle, pet.”

The voice called to
her terror, asleep and sated because she’d felt so safe and protected—owned—by
Vayne, and it stirred uneasily like a snake waking in a burrow.
Baraith.
She
tasted the name and the foulness of it soured her mouth. A strange and deadly
calm descended over her as her lifemate died at her feet, the pumping of his
precious blood slowing to a trickle. As it ebbed, something in
her own
chest shriveled, to be replaced by a terrible
sensation of cold. Neira edged to one side and took a stance. Baraith cast a
look at Vayne and sneered.