The plane stopped and the man stood up, checking Raven with another punch. A woman appeared near Raven’s head; the pilot. She wore khaki slacks and a black vest and Raven didn’t need to hear her speak again to recognize her. One of the assassins from the Chinese state. She used to be sanctioned by the government until Raven had exposed a plot of hers to eliminate a group of monks living in the mountains. The monks had peacefully declined to be in the Chinese state, preferring instead to remain outside the world governments’ control. Normally Raven would have approved of forcing resisters to join the government, but the monks were an exception. They were pacifists and only had limited communication with the outside world. When this woman had tried to kill them, Raven had stepped in and she was exiled. He hadn’t seen or heard of her again, until now.
The man and woman conferred in low voices before popping open the door. Heat poured in. Wherever they were was much farther south than NeoLondon. Raven tried to learn as much as he could without moving. Dry air, no humidity. Desert area. Probably one of the African states, maybe the Chinese state. The woman leapt out of the door, probably to get steps or a ramp. Most planes were a good height from the ground and there was no way they could carry an unconscious body—which they thought he was—without some sort of assistance.
Raven considered his options. The woman would be gone for a few seconds. Raven could attack the man, jump from the plane, and hope they were in a public airport with access to the outside. Or he could continue biding his time and wait to see if they were in a military enclosure. There was no point giving up the element of surprise if it turned out the plane was completely surrounded by enemies. He wanted to attack now, his fingers trembled with the urge, but he fought it. He needed more information before he acted.
Steps appeared out the door and the woman climbed up and secured the plane. The man grabbed Raven roughly and tossed him over his shoulder. Raven let his arms and legs hang limp. His face was pressed against the man’s rough ebony shirt and it smelled of sweat and sour vinegar. Traces of the poison they used, Raven thought. The smell had an affect; he felt dizzy again and it wasn’t hard to pretend that he had no control over his body. He was jostled down the metal staircase and tried to look around.
Heat waves wafted from the black asphalt and made vision difficult. Outside. Raven tried to avoid breathing in the sickening poison fumes and wondered how the man wasn’t affected. Some people around, but not too many. He caught a glimpse of a military uniform and unconsciously flinched. It bore the seal of the United Western World.
“Don’t wake up yet,” the man said, reaching around to slap his head.
The pain was extreme and for a few moments Raven could barely breath for fear of vomiting. The West. He couldn’t be in the West. The man grabbed his waist and dropped Raven to the ground. He was dizzy and sick with fear and pain. His captors were focused on three approaching figures so he didn’t have to worry about being seen as he squinted to see who was coming. His heart shuddered as he saw the sunlight reflecting crimson off the central figure. Atheus.
Raven barely had time to collect his strength before he was on his feet. The man and woman had no time to react: Raven crippled them with blows to the face and groin. Nonfatal. But painful. Atheus shouted something and Raven ran. No fence enclosed the airport and Raven sprinted. Each step jarred against his temples. His legs trembled but he urged them to keep running, keep going until he found something. People were following him on foot but they were no match. Raven had always been fast and he had a reason to run now. He was in the Western World, and so was Atheus. Raven would be killed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Scott introduced Lydia to his fellow writers, his editors, the copy staff, the technicians, everyone, in fact, who happened to be in the United Eastern Press building. He couldn’t contain his wide grin and loved the compliments and congratulations from his peers. This was the first time any of them had met Lydia in person before and Scott preened as he presented his beautiful wife. She looked especially beautiful today, he thought. She was dressed in white, the traditional color for the moon, with silver earrings and bracelets. Even her shoes were silver sandals. She looked like the stereotypical moon girl from advertisements, only far more gorgeous.
Scott’s colleagues were duly impressed, maybe even jealous, Scott thought happily. He endured a fair share of teasing since his wife lived so far away. A few of his colleagues even suspected that the ‘wife’ was an invention and Scott really had secret lover in the government. The rumor had probably started when he and Raven had been living together, and some of Scott’s co-workers found it suspicious that he always knew where to get the latest scoop on government stories. They knew he had some connection with an insider and romance was far more interesting and easy to understand than the deep-rooted, unreserved love Scott and Raven truly felt for each other.
Lydia smiled and greeted everyone, but the minute they were in Scott’s private office and the door closed, she collapsed into his chair.
“Oh, I’m so glad that over! Did I really have to meet everyone all at once? I’ll never remember any of their names.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Scott said. “I just want them to know you.”
She laughed and slipped her sandals off, tucking her legs underneath her on the chair. Scott watched her. He sat in that chair nearly every day. From now on, he knew would always imagine this when he sat there—her slender legs folding up, her dimpled elbow resting delicately on the armrest, her long ebony braid trailing down the back of the seat. He swallowed and was aware that he was incredibly turned on watching her like this, and from the mischievous gleam in her eyes, she knew exactly what effect she was having on him.
Lydia held out her arms and he melted into them, mouths joining as he pulled her out of the chair and against the wall, pressing against her and feeling the body he dreamed of every night. She took his hands and guided them to her belly. He attempted to slip them lower but she held them still. Scott met her eyes and saw excitement there, and doubt.
“I’m pregnant,” she whispered.
Scott went numb. He staggered back, staring at her belly. He had nearly smashed his body against her belly, he realized with shock. What if he had hurt the baby? A baby, he repeated to himself. The reality sunk in and he stared at Lydia.
“When? How long?”
“I found out yesterday,” she said shyly. “We— well, it was when we were on the moon together last week. 9 days ago, to be precise.”
Scott laughed and some of the worry around Lydia’s eyes vanished. Raven’s impulsive decision to leave the moon had one good result, at least. Scott studied Lydia’s body, glowing and swathed in white, and laid his hands delicately on her stomach, hoping to feel something.
“It’s a little early for that,” she said dryly. She was smiling, happy.
“We don’t have a license,” Scott said. “How could you get pregnant without a license? I thought it was impossible. Don’t they do something to stop women from conceiving?”
“Not on the moon,” Lydia said. “I didn’t tell you because— well, I wasn’t sure anything would happen. But they want to increase the moon’s population so conception isn’t limited and getting a license should be easy.”