Dark Minds (Class 5 Series Book 3) (30 page)

“What I planned all along if this happened. Imogen, you need to run faster.”

She'd slowed to a dragging sort of Igor limp, she realized, and forced herself to move again.

“Last turn,” he told her. “There on the left.”

A door opened and she stepped inside. Found she was back in the maintenance bay. She fell into the pod, and the lid closed with a snap before she'd even buckled herself in.

She couldn't buckle herself in, she realized. Her hand wouldn't work. So she wriggled into the inclined chair as best she could and lay back, panting. The sudden acceleration as Paxe shot her out of the maintenance hatch jostled her, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself crying out.

The pod didn't drift when it left the ship. It moved away at a steady rate. She caught a glimpse of the Levron to Paxe's right, and never felt smaller or more insignificant. Oris was nowhere to be seen, so at least he must have managed to get back to the others safely.

“Talk to me, Paxe.”

“They found me.” He seemed calmer now. The panic was gone.

“What are they going to do? Put you back in the lock-safe?” She closed her eyes, and breathed through the pain as feeling started coming back to her hand one agonizing, fire ant bite at a time.

“I think they're going to try.” Paxe paused. “They're walking back to it with me now.”

“Paxe, I'm so sorry.” Tears escaped her closed lids, running down into her hair. “I failed you.”

“You didn't fail me. You did more for me than anyone I ever met. Risked your life for me, when all I'd planned for you was to kill you.”

“You didn't understand.” She whispered it, wondering what she could do to make this right.

“I didn't understand,” he agreed. “But now I do. I know why the slave girl saved Ali Baba. She wanted to belong somewhere.”

She fought back a sob, unable to say a word.

“I'm sorry, Imogen. I would have liked to——” He made a sound, like an animal caught in a trap. “They've reached the lock-safe and I've waited as long as I can. I hope you're far enough away.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Far enough away?”

She had to lift up on her left arm to see out, and saw the hostage ships were just in front of her, that Paxe had sent her away as fast as the pod would go.

“They should never have reconnected the self-destruct.” There was a vicious, grim satisfaction in his voice. And then he exploded.

Or imploded, perhaps, was the better way to describe it.

It was as if the massive ball of the Class 5 contracted, scrunching in on itself, and then, when there was nowhere left to go, it blew outward, a rage of light and heat and force.

Imogen felt her pod being picked up and tossed like a piece of driftwood on a raging sea.

And as she slammed into the lid above her, she saw the ball of flame engulf her before the world went dark.

A
t last
, it was the fast cruiser's turn.

Ever since he'd seen Oris come forward as if to give himself up, and then after a long wait in front of the Levron, arc elegantly up and away to slide into place bracketing the
Illium
, he'd felt the pressure of time slipping away.

If Oris had done it to draw attention away from what Cam was doing, it was a gesture Cam appreciated.

He piloted the explorer into the launch bay, pleased to be coming in to a space he knew would be big enough.

He'd scraped the sides more than once in the last hour, only just fitting in to some of the traders. But every single one had been happy to see him, had pulled on the space survivors, and headed away from the fight. Even the Vanad's crew had greeted him like a friend. And he supposed he was the best friend they had right now.

Pren was waiting for him, shockgun raised as he opened the door.

Her look of surprise was priceless, and as he stepped up to her, she got him in a soldier's one-arm hug, and slapped his back a few times.

“It is very good to see you, sir.” She had a massive grin on her face.

“Vraen driving you mad?” Cam reached back into the explorer and took out a stack of space survivors, handed them to Pren.

She let out a snigger. “Yes, sir. Space survivors?” Her tone turned to confusion.

“You need to not be a hostage anymore, Pren. We can't give the Tecran what they're demanding, so if they decide to shoot another vessel, or all of them, it would be better if there was no one onboard.”

The beauty of working with someone with the same training and background was how quickly they caught on.

Pren counted the boxes in her arms. “Three more will be enough.”

He grabbed three more, and when he turned, Diot was in the launch bay, too, Olan and Vraen right behind her.

“Where did you even come from?” The Bukarian asked as she enveloped him in a tight hug.

“One of the Class 5s next to the
Illium
.” He started handing out the space survivors. “Can you get the rest of the crew?” he asked Pren, and still smiling, she set her boxes down and left.

“Get the crew for what?” Vraen took a space survivor and then frowned down at it as if he'd never seen one before.

“You need to get off this ship now. As quickly as possible.” Cam watched Olan open his box. Was it his imagination, or did the elderly scientist look even more frail than he had.

“Olan, there is room for one extra person in my explorer. Perhaps it's best you come with me.”

The Fitalian looked up, and Cam saw his hands were trembling a little. “I think that might be best.” Olan smiled. “It is good to see you, Cam. We were worried about you.”

“You expect us to go through the gel wall in space survivors?” Vraen's tone, after the gratitude and quick action of every single other hostage, made something hot and corrosive rise up inside Cam's chest.

He had left Imogen to do this. He had risked everything. He turned to look at Vraen. “You can stay here, Vraen, and you can die when the Tecran finally believe us when we tell them we cannot give them back their Class 5s, and they blow up every single one of these ships in retribution. Don't let me stop you.” He pointed to the door.

Silence flash-froze every single person.

The doors opened, and Pren appeared, with Yari and her three crew in tow.

They stumbled to a halt in the frigid atmosphere.

“I was only asking a question.” There was bluster in Vraen's voice.

Cam didn't give it the benefit of a response, he simply turned away, and held out a space survivor to Yari.

She came at him in a rush, pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.”

“You're my team. I wasn't going to leave you hanging here in the middle of a battle field.” He grinned at her and pressed the box against her chest. “Suit up.”

They all did, with Pren ready before everyone else, although she'd been the last to start. Vraen was a sullen presence in the midst of them all, pulling on his suit with bad grace and frequent curses.

“Ready?” he asked them.

Pren nodded. “Good luck, sir.”

“We'll come for you as soon as it's safe. You have ten hours, and you all have beacons. Wait a few hours before you activate them, when you're far enough away.”

Diot, Yari and Pren acknowledged that, but Vraen stared stonily ahead.

Cam gave Pren the formal Battle Center bow and climbed into the drone. Olan was already inside, strapped in, and Cam lifted off carefully with so many in the launch bay, and slid out through the gel wall.

He looked back, saw Pren had pushed her way out and was waiting, hanging in space, to help pull Diot and then Yari through, then the others one by one.

He would see her promoted when this was over. She had proved herself again and again.

“Where are we going?” Olan asked from below, where he was strapped to the backboard.

“The Class 5 on the left. If you are all right with putting yourself in the hands of a thinking system.”

“I'll take a battleship, no matter how dangerous, over free floating, thank you.” Olan's voice was dry. “I see you have a Fitalian battleship in your entourage. Are my colleagues in the Horde providing assistance?”

“No.” Cam looked down at his upturned face. “Your Fitalian colleagues tried to kill me, shoot a Class 5, and then threatened to destroy Larga Ways. All to cover up that their terra-forming on Huy elevated the grahudi to near advanced sentient status, and the Tecran found out about it.”

Olan blinked. “Now this is a story worth hearing. Which idiot in the Horde is responsible, because I can assure you that most Fitali would not approve.”

“Ipsos,” Cam told him. They were halfway back to Oris and the others now.

“Ipsos.” Olan was thoughtful. “What a pity. He's had a good career.”

Cam opened his mouth to respond, and then a giant picked them up and flung them, tumbling the explorer end over end.

Cam braced his legs against the control panel as they spun, face pressed up against the screen, and saw Paxe had exploded.

He waited for another turn, saw the Levron on either side of Paxe take damage, waited another turn, saw the hostage vessels blown toward the Grihan line.

How far had the hostages got from the path of the explosion? The suits could withstand extreme temperatures, so as long as they weren't ripped by debris, they would be okay.

Had he forced them out of their ships, only to get them killed five minutes later?

“What is happening? Cam? Cam!” Olan's shouts finally registered.

“The Class 5 on the Tecran side has exploded.” They turned again, but slower this time. There was something tumbling lazily near the explorer. Something that looked intact, rather than a piece of debris.

Cam touched the control panel and moved the lens, zooming in. It was a maintenance pod of some sort, the claws and clamps tucked neatly into its sides.

The transparent lid turned his way, and he stared.

Imogen. Limp and bleeding.

He wanted to get out, to somehow reach her, but that wasn't possible in either of their small ships.

He touched the comms. Who cared now if the Tecran could track where he was? “Oris.”

There was a long pause. “Captain.”

“Why can I see Imogen?” He tried to swallow, and had to clear his throat. “Why can I see Imogen in a maintenance pod?”

“He got her out in time?” Oris's voice was a shout in the tiny explorer.

“She's hurt. Badly.” The explorer had stopped spinning, and he couldn't see her anymore. He started moving the lens, trying to find her again.

“I see her, now you've told me. Paxe set the pod to return to me. You'll probably arrive at the same time.”

Half an hour, by his estimation.

“Come to us, then.”

“Already coming,” Oris said.

“What's happening with the Tecran?” Cam had to shuffle aside as Olan pulled himself into the small control area.

“Both Levron are damaged. I don't think either can light-jump. One of the smaller battleships was right behind Paxe and it's gone completely. The other two are still there, but I think have taken damage, too.”

The lens caught glimpses of the debris left by Paxe, of the Levron, even the traders and the fast cruiser, but no maintenance pod. Cam slammed his fist into the side of the control. “Where is she, relative to my explorer?”

Oris gave the coordinates, and Olan edged him aside and with steady hands, swung the lens.

The pod came into view, and he zoomed right in.

“Imogen Peters is in there?”

“Yes.” Again, his throat closed, tight as if someone had turned a lever.

“What about the Tecran? Is it likely they'll engage despite their damage?” Olan was asking all the questions he should be, but Cam couldn't think of anything but the tiny pod just outside.

“Who is that?” Oris asked.

“Olan. One of my team. He chose to come with me in the explorer, rather than use the space survivors.” Cam narrowed his eyes, because a solid wall of black was suddenly behind Imogen.

“Is that you, Oris?”

“It's me.”

The maintenance pod was suddenly gone, sucked in to the maintenance bay.

Cam realized Olan had taken over the controls, and was guiding them toward the gel wall of the launch bay.

“The Tecran must be a little nervous to see you moving toward them,” Olan commented.

“Even though they're damaged, one of the Levron shot at the
Illium
, and one of the smaller ships shot at the hostages.”

Cam tried to come up with the correct response. “Is everyone all right?”

“I shielded the
Illium
, and because Sazo and I thought they would react that way, he was quick enough to get in place to shield the hostages.”

The explorer hit the gel wall, slid through.

Cam was out as soon as it touched down. “Where?” he asked.

Oris called the directions to him, and he ran. “What was she doing on Paxe?” It was a question he hadn't even come to yet. “What was she doing?”

“What do you think, Captain?” Oris's voice was soft now. Dangerous.

Cam didn't care.

“She's not a soldier, and you sent her onto a Class 5 full of Tecran?” He didn't hold back his fury.

“On the left,” Oris said in response, and Cam saw an open door and the maintenance pod.

The lid was open.

Imogen pushed herself up awkwardly with one hand, and smiled at him.

It was the sweetest smile he'd ever seen.

He carefully slid his arms under her, braced himself and lifted her out, looking for injuries. She kept her right hand curled against her chest and she had struck her head on something. Blood dripped from the cut at her hairline into her light hair.

The surprise of her weight hit him again. And it calmed him. She may look delicate, but she was strong.

“So, you went off to save Paxe?” He tried to keep his voice even. He'd seen a med chamber on his way here, and he started walking toward it.

“Tried to.” Her voice came out rougher than he'd ever heard it. “They had dismantled so many of his systems, when I got him free, he was helpless.”

“What happened?” Oris asked.

“The one thing they'd reactivated, rather than dismantled, was the self-destruct.”

“He blew himself up.” Oris said it slowly.

“Just before they caged him again.” Imogen's voice was thick with tears.

“You could have died.” Cam tightened his grip on her, walking even faster than he had been.

“So could you,” she whispered against his chest. “That's what we do for our friends, isn't it?”