Warrior's Valor (24 page)

“Let's see if this can't buy us some time.” She reached into her breast pocket and pulled out the small canister that she'd picked up from the ground after Dwyn Izontro's collapse. “This is Izontro's medication. It's an aerosol, with a potent cooling agent in it.”

“You're going to spray it with medication?” The look on Oches's face would have been humorous if his situation hadn't been so dangerous.

“Yes.”

“How cool can it be, since it's supposed to be inhaled?”

“Not very, but enough, combined with the miniscule aerosol drops, to keep the bot's circuits in contact with each other. This way it'll think it's not so broken after all and won't self-destruct quite yet.”

“Ah. Clever.” He closed his eyes as she scanned one more time before she administered the aerosol. “There.”

“Is it working?”

“You're still here.”

He smiled faintly. “I sure am.”

Suddenly the bot gave a soft beep and wound down at the same time. Kellen took a sharp breath, expecting it to self-destruct in a deadly blast.

Instead, nothing. The bot lay there, snug against Oches, and appeared lifeless.

“Everybody all right in here?” Rae poked her head in between the tent flaps. She blanched at the sight of the bot. “Stars and skies, what happened here?”

“It…eh…chased us in here, ma'am,” Oches said, a half-grin on his face. He gently nudged the bot off him and edged over to Kellen. “If the protector hadn't given it Ms. Izontro's medication, I'd be dead, most likely.”

“Medication?” Rae blinked. “You gave the bot medicine?”

“Yes. Healing it so it lives until we kill it permanently, you could say.”

Rae shook her head. “You're going to have to explain that to me later. We need to head out now. This adventure delayed us.”

They left the tent and Kellen turned and fired on the bot, just to be safe. It went out with a small puff of smoke. She looked at downed bots littering the clearing. “Casualties?”

“Ensign Noor, Commander D'Artansis—Emeron, I mean—and one of the junior officers in D'Artansis's team. Apart from your injury, only minor cuts and bruises. No fatalities. The Disian youngsters stayed low and aren't harmed.” Rae stopped in the center of the clearing. “To think this can be such an idyllic, beautiful place one minute and a living hell the next.”

“I know.” Relieved that nobody was hurt badly, Kellen wrapped her arm around Rae. “I'm grateful you're all right.”

Rae's features softened and she melted into the touch for a few moments. Resuming her professional stance, she dragged both hands through her short hair and drew a deep breath. “Let's go find out how much of the Cormanian equipment we managed to kill. I hope we still have communication capabilities.”

She spoke with irony, but Kellen knew that if they couldn't communicate, they might be too late to save Dahlia.

Dahlia woke, cold yet clammy, shivering as the morning mist seeped inside her clothes. She had worn the same outfit for almost eight days, and she frowned at it. Dirt, smoke, and blood created new, ugly patterns on her former off-white caftan, and she'd stepped on the hem of her pants so many times, they looked like tattered lace around her ankles. Insects, particularly mosquitoes, had bit her exposed skin and drunk her blood. She shuddered at the thought of what biological hazard they might transfer to her. It wasn't like Weiss Kyakh had a state-of-the-art med-kit box with her to tend to her prisoners.

“I need new dressings,” M'Ekar moaned as he lay propped up against a tree trunk. “My bandages are oozing.”

Dahlia could care less, but she wasn't going to stoop to the others' callous actions. She looked at the bandages that White had wrapped haphazardly around his arms and legs, and also around his forehead. His head wasn't too bad, but both his shins were in terrible shape.

“He's right,” Dahlia said, raising her voice. “He may be contemptible, but he's rotting away.”

“God, woman.” M'Ekar made a disgusted face. “No need to be crude.”

“It's the truth.” She swatted at some flies that hovered around his bandages. “You're nearly gangrenous.”

“Oh, damnation, I'm going to lose my legs, Kyakh, because of your incompetent assassin-turned-medic.”

“Calm down,” Weiss Kyakh said, and knelt next to them. “You're making too much noise to be dying.”

“Joke all you want, but look at that,” Dahlia said, and pointed at the soggy bandages. “You need to make camp and tend to him and some of the others. That man over there,” she pointed, “has even worse-looking wounds. Even if you don't give a damn about M'Ekar, and frankly who could blame you, your own crew member should be a high priority.”

Weiss glanced at her people, and her face still didn't give away any emotions. “All right. White, the med kit.”

The small box, now looking as dirty as they did, magically appeared, and Weiss opened it with quick fingers. She stared into the box. “Where the hell's the rest of the stuff?”

“I've used most of it,” White said expressionlessly. “This is our emergency kit. There wasn't much in it to begin with.”

“She certainly didn't use it on me,” M'Ekar complained. “If she had, I wouldn't look like I had the Typperline Plague.”

“Never heard of it. Be quiet now.” Weiss rose and waved a young man over. He and she were the only ones unharmed. All the others suffered from burns, trauma, or smoke inhalation. “Take care of the
ambassador's
wounds.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“No,” M'Ekar said, and pointed at Dahlia. “I want her to do it.”

The young man looked between Dahlia and Weiss. “Captain?”

“Fine with me.”

Tossing the med kit box into Dahlia's lap, Weiss walked away with her crewman in tow. Dahlia opened the box and saw a few imbulizer ampoules and a portable disinfector almost without power. There were only five dressings left. “I'll do what I can.” As she moved over to M'Ekar, sickened to have to be near the man responsible for killing so many people and hurting members of her own family, herself included, she shrugged. “I can't imagine why you'd want me to help you.”

“You detest me, but you have a conscience.” He sounded tired and his hands trembled as he tried to brush some of the dirt off his coat. “Deplorable circumstances, but I'll do anything to regain my freedom.”

“Even kill innocent people.”

“I didn't know Weiss's helmswoman was so incompetent.” He raised his voice.

“I'm not talking only about the Disian casualties.” Dahlia kept her temper in control as she began to unravel the bandage on his head. “I'm also talking about the people on Gantharat whom you threatened, tortured, and killed, and I'm talking about how you hurt my family.”

“And you, Madame, incarcerated me solely because you and that daughter of yours wanted custody of the prince.” He groaned as she ran the disinfector over his wound. “Damnation, that stings.”

“Just grin and bear it.” She worked slowly, since this was a great opportunity to find out more about his plans. “These are superficial flesh wounds, but if you don't sit still and let me clean them, you're in big trouble. I don't have to tell you what happens if gangrene spreads.”

“No.” He paled further. “I'm grateful for the mildness of your touch, Madame.”

“You're being awfully polite,” she said sardonically. “Usually you think of me as a royal bitch.”

“We're in a serious situation. I didn't think my escape would be like this.” He obviously tried to mimic her tone, but they were the same age, even considering that Onotharians' life span was more than thirty years longer. Dahlia also realized that even without his serious flesh wounds he wasn't in shape for this type of “adventure.”

“And neither am I,” she murmured, and kept working with the pitiful dressings.

“Madame?”

“Nothing. Simply a reflection on age and how much I'd rather be at home, tucking in my grandson and reading a good novel.”

A joyless smile grazed his dry lips. “Or having a glass of Dhakaria wine in front of a holo-fireplace, listening to the latest recording by Thoros Kolos.”

“You enjoy opera?” Dahlia didn't understand how this conversation with a most despicable man almost comforted her, but talking about something resembling normalcy gave her new emotional strength.

“It is
the
art form, Madame Dahlia. Have you listened to our great national hero on the opera scene?”

“Not a lot. I've heard of him, though.” She wrapped the last of the bandages. “Have you listened to any of our opera companies from Vitaporta Prime? Opera is a lifestyle itself on their homeworld.”

“Oh, yes.” M'Ekar's face softened, and she had no problem envisioning how dashing he'd once been. He'd probably charmed his way into the Onotharian nobility with ease and married a young woman in the M'Aido dynasty. She knew he came originally from simple circumstances, and if he'd used his driven personality for the greater good, he could have made an impact for the better. Instead, he had remained scheming and opportunistic, always putting himself first, ever ambitious.

“As a young man I always wanted to go to Vitaporta Prime,” he continued. “I even dreamed of a career in music.” He smiled self-deprecatingly, and she was mesmerized that he could be so charming, even disarming. She considered herself a shrewd, even hardened diplomat who, after a lifetime in the SC diplomatic corps, could see through any hidden agenda and outsmart any adversary. Still, when he talked eagerly about his opera dreams as a mere teenager, she could easily picture him then—tall, striking, and no doubt with a good voice. Even to this day, it was resonant and pleasing.

“Why didn't you?” she asked spontaneously.

“Why, I… Oh, that wasn't for me. It was only a dream.” His smile faded, and his dark eyes lost their light. “I was destined for other things. My family trusted me to be the one to succeed. They sacrificed everything to send me to the finest schools and to literally buy me a ticket to the finer social functions on Onotharat. You found all this out from your spies while you were interrogating me, no?”

“Yes, some, at least.” She pictured the young M'Ekar, carrying the hopes and dreams of his entire family, as well as the burden of striving for success.
He took it a bit too far, I'd say
.

“You done yet?” White's cold voice interrupted the exchange.

Dahlia was annoyed with herself for not having pried more useful, tactical information out of M'Ekar. But she was sure the information she had obtained instead might be handy when it came to understanding him.

“Yes,” she answered to White's question.

“The captain says you should hang onto the med-kit box.”

“Sure. I need something to carry it in.”

White stopped one of the crewmen nearby and made him remove a small pouch from his large back-strap security carrier. “Here.”

Dahlia attached the pouch to her belt and carefully tucked the few remaining items into it. She knew she would have to use it again soon.

“All right, people. We're moving out.” Weiss stalked along the line of crew members and stopped by M'Ekar and Dahlia. “You look like you could be best buddies if you put your differences away,” she said scornfully. “Don't become too chummy, M'Ekar. We still expect to get paid.”

“And you will, handsomely, if you get me across the border in one piece.”

“Don't count on it, Hox,” Dahlia said, deliberately using his first name. Now she knew why it had been such a good idea to be personal with M'Ekar. Even if she didn't trust him for a second, she could keep Weiss guessing and off balance. “The SC would never treat even their worst enemy this way, so be careful whom you trust.”

Weiss towered impressively over Dahlia, who wasn't short. “Shut. Up.” Weiss's tone was menacing, but it took more than that to intimidate Dahlia.

“You don't need to sound so harsh,” she said innocently.

“Don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you, and so is everyone else.”

“Very flattering for a woman my age.” She didn't look away and finally Weiss broke eye contact first.

“Move out.”

They resumed their journey through the protected forest. Just before they left the clearing, Dahlia took her hand out of her pocket and released her last small piece of gold.

*

Ayahliss stood by the transparent aluminum view port, looking down at the planet Corma as the
Dalathea
hummed very faintly beneath her feet, where it lay in low orbit. The shuttle had delivered Armeo and her, with Judge Beqq, only an hour earlier. She glanced over at the couch where Armeo had fallen asleep while he browsed through the games and other entertainment.