Her vibraknife thrust into his gut, low down, ripping up through his chest.
He tried to scream as he fell beside the AG cart she had been towing. The world turned gray before Zsem's swimming vision while she pulled cases of blasters and armor past his face. Outside, a swelling roar rose in angry throats. Fleet pounded through the armory as Targans armed themselves before spilling into the night.
Skyla turned to the monitor as it hazed and wavered. Something was coming in on a scrambled channel. She sat in the familiar seat of her personal yacht, the worry-cap lowered onto her ice-blonde hair. One by one, the systems came to life on the instrument panel as she completed the preflight check.
Tyklat's face formed. "Wing Commander? I just thought I'd check and make sure you made it through customs without problems." He hesitated. "You wouldn't consider turning Nyklos loose, would you?"
"I will, as soon as I get Staffa off Targa."
"I take it the Master is in good health?"
She chuckled. "He must be. You ought to hear him curs ing back there. Don't you Seddi have rules about the kind of language a Master can use?"
Tyklat gave her a flat look from tired eyes. "Masters are not used to being held hostage."
"Consider the stakes, Tyklat, and then you tell me what you'd do in my place. By the way, how'd you get us such an easy clearance? I've already got a flight plan from orbital traffic control. Not even a single delay."
Tyklat grinned evilly and held up a golden badge with a cat's face and lily design. "Ily's jessant-de-lis. When she finds out you used it to clear her ship, I'm hoping she'll be so embarrassed she won't think twice about using me for a scapegoat."
"My systems are powering up and I can see Ily's cruiser on the monitors. I guess they haven't figured out what's gone wrong?"
"They're curious about the alert but not panicked yet. I imagine things will be interesting by the time Ily gets on board." His dark features went tense. "Minister Takka is coming to. I've got her in a med unit, but I can't keep her down any longer. You've had all the time I can safely grant you without creating awkward explanations or incompetent misdirection. Good luck, Wing Commander." His lips curled over white shining teeth, eyes sparkling. "I am sorry to have to let you go. Ily promised I could put a collar on you — and keep you!"
"Might not have been so bad, Tyklat." She gave him a wink and a saucy smile. "The Lord Commander's on his way to Targa, huh? You put together a hell of a rescue. If you need anything from us… the Companions do not forget a debt."
"I will remember, thank you. And good spacing, Wing Commander."
"Farewell, Tyklat. And thanks."
"Take very good care of Nyklos." The screen went dead.
She cleared with planetary orbit control and powered out of orbit, laying a vector for deep space — setting a false trail of plasma in the direction of Rega before shutting the reactors down. Changing her ship's attitude, Skyla blasted reaction mass from time to time to change vector without leaving a consistent trail. Satisfied no one could follow, she let her cruiser float on automatic. For long moments, she stared out the main port at the billions of stars that shimmered in double and triple images beyond the Forbidden Borders. A whole universe lay out there — beyond human ability to reach. An unfamiliar depression settled on her, a
feeling the universe had changed, that nothing would be the same again.
Skyla, you're tired. You haven't had a full night's sleep in a week.
The worry-cap gleamed in the cockpit lights as she lifted it off. She stood and took one last glance at the controls before she palmed the cockpit hatch and stepped into the main cabin. Using a special security code, she locked the cockpit hatch and turned. Nyklos remained firmly bound with EM restraints where she'd shoved him into one of the cushioned sofas.
Not that he was suffering. Her private yacht had once belonged to the Secretary of Economics on Formosa. The interior had been paneled with sandalwood and Riparian ebony. Velvet upholstery was the rule, and gleaming gold accented tasteful decor. The table Nyklos sat behind had been cut from a slab of Vegan marble and Myklenian silk had been used for the draperies. The thick spongy rugs had come from the finest Ashtan manufacturers.
He cocked his head curiously and asked, "Everything is all right? We're spacing for Targa?"
Skyla sighed and shook her head. "Afraid not. It will take quite a while for Staffa's cargo canister to arrive on Targa. Meanwhile, Ily Takka is going to come boiling out of Etana with an anger the likes of which not even the Rotted Gods could imagine. Rushing off to Targa might put us right in her net. Want a cup of stassa?"
"I'll pass. So what are we going to do? You're not going to keep me tied up the whole time, are you?"
Skyla shrugged. "Depends on how you act, and what I decide to do, but first things first. I'm going to feed you, get you something to drink, and let you take care of nature. Then I'm going to tie you up, lock you in one of the after cabins, and I'm going to sleep for as long as it takes to get my brain functional again. After that, I'll let you out, feed you again, and then I'm going to sit around and do nothing but think until I can tack some kind of plan together and initiate it."
"While I'm tied up again?"
Skyla raised an eyebrow. "It could be worse. This isn't exactly a pigsty." "And I can always fantasize about you."
"You already did that."
He gave her a suspicious glance. "When?"
"Under the Mytol."
He colored. "Well, I guess there are no secrets between us."
"Oh, there are plenty," she told him coolly. "But they're all mine."
His smile grew until it curled his mustache. "Uh, I don't suppose you'd sleep better with someone close. Just because you're my captor doesn't mean we couldn't—"
"No."
"Oh, come on. You know how I feel about you. The Mytol wouldn't leave any doubt in your mind — or mine, for that matter. You know that what I told you was the truth. I think you're one of the most wondrously beautiful women in all of Free Space."
"If this is some sort of psychological warfare, forget it. I've been flattered by the best, Nyklos, and you don't have a chance. Over the years, I've learned that there is no limit to the amount of lust that can be packed into a male body."
Skyla fed him, showed him to the toilet, and finally locked him — well tied — in one of the cabins. She programed the security monitor to go if the door to his room were tried and then went to the elegant master cabin. There, she stripped and enjoyed a hot shower before tumbling into the decadently comfortable bed.
In her dreams, Staffa twisted just beyond reach of her frantic fingers. Condemned to eternal suffering, he spun slowly while a laughing black-garbed woman sliced at his body. Try as she might, he always turned a whisker beyond Skyla's fingertips — beyond rescue from the vicious knife. Skyla cried her anguish and the woman in black glanced at her with features that molded into Ily Takka's.
Ily regained consciousness in a small room. She blinked and tried to move. Nothing happened. She glanced down to discover herself encased in a hospital unit. Staffa! He and that Kaylla had. Yes. It all came back. She pulled her scattered thoughts together.
"Awake at last?" She turned her head to see Tyklat's
pensive dark features measuring her from where he sat in a cushioned chair.
"What happened to you back there?" She asked through a dry throat.
"We were attacked. Moriai and I organized the defense of the Internal Security Directorate on Etarus." He frowned. "So far as we can determine, they must have been Companions. The Ministry offices are totally wrecked, fifteen people are dead. I immediately ordered a planetary emergency and confiscated Skyla Lyma's craft. She, however, cleared its release on your personal ID — which I did manage to recover. Evidently, they didn't recognize the power of the jessant-de-lis."