Dark Minds (Class 5 Series Book 3) (6 page)

“That was the deal,” Xaro said. “If our client couldn't have the Earth woman, no one else could have her. She was too dangerous.”

“The explosion was a small, targeted blast specifically to kill the Earth woman?” Diot asked, frowning.

Barj rubbed a hand over his face. “That's what I thought, when he told me. But no.” He lifted his head at last. “They . . . the client and Xaro . . . had decided that was too risky. If Xaro didn't know where the woman was, a small blast wouldn't work. So the explosion was big enough to take out the whole of Larga Ways. Xaro used everything the Tecran spies had.”

“Kill thousands of people, just to ensure the death of one?” Olan's voice sounded high and almost sing-song.

“Are you saying,” Cam rolled to a crouch, “that Larga Ways was destroyed?”

He caught Barj's gaze, and the mercenary didn't look away. “It was imploding as we flew away.”

T
he passageways Imogen
was herded along were empty. It was a stark contrast to when she'd arrived. Gau had led her past numerous Krik, either going about their business, or standing talking, when he'd taken her down to the hold.

They were all gone.

The doors off the passageways were closed, now, too. Some had been open on her way in and she'd tried to look inside but Gau had pushed her forward and she hadn't managed to get more than an impression of neatly laid out rooms.

She wanted to ask where everyone was, but when she opened her mouth she found she couldn't make her voice work. Something about the eerie silence, and the disinterest of the three drones left escorting her, made her reluctant to attract their attention, for any reason.

The one holding the Vanad had peeled off to the right at the first intersection of passageways they'd come to, and she had felt a wave of relief at not having to listen to the sound of a dead body being dragged behind her.

When they reached the stairwell Gau had brought her down only a few hours ago, the drone rose up into hover mode to navigate the steep staircase, spinning in place while they waited for her to haul herself up.

Despite the yoga she'd done, she had been a prisoner for over two months, and all this walking and now climbing stairs was taking its toll. It reminded her of what had been taken from her with every gasp for breath and she had to consciously rid herself of the anger that rose up.

She lifted her shoulders to ease the tension and tried to focus on where she was going and the route they'd taken from the hold, so she could come back this way if she ever had the chance.

Her legs were trembling when at last they reached the floor they wanted her on, and one of the drones held the door for her.

As they approached a junction in the corridor, she heard a noise to the right and adrenalin surged as she thought they had somehow crossed paths again with the drone dragging the Vanad's body.

The sound was clear and sinister in the quiet, and she slowed her steps. When she reached the corner, she forced herself to look.

A drone was pulling a Krik by his hair along the floor. He was dead, his eyes open and staring blindly at the ceiling.

Imogen couldn't drag her eyes away, and the silence all around her pressed in, suffocating and menacing.

“This way.” One of the drones indicated to the left with its mechanical arm.

“What happened to him?” Imogen glanced at the drone, then swung her gaze back to the Krik.

“They are very volatile.” The words seemed different. More human. There was a hint of a sigh to them.

“The fighting spirit,” Imogen said.

“Yes. They felt in danger, and the fighting spirit overcame them.” The words were spoken with no hint of regret, it merely was what it was.

The manic glee with which they'd killed the Tecran crew still had the power to catch her in its grasp, like a cat playing with its food, and when she looked back at the Krik's body, she could not find any emotion at all.

“The Krik are a mistake the Garmman must take responsibility for,” the drone said. “They tried to woo the Krik into declaring themselves Garmman vassals, which would have extended Garmman territory. To persuade them, they broke protocol and gave the Krik access to United Council technology. But while the Krik are quite capable of working out how to use things, left to their own devices, they would still be fighting each other in their interminable wars. And the Garmman did not understand the Krik would never allow themselves to be vassals to anyone.”

That explained a lot. She still remembered wondering how a race that could allow itself to be lost in a violent haze for minutes at a time could be as advanced as it was. Then she remembered the fear in Toloco's eyes. “They seemed to be taking instructions from you.”

“Well, they thought they were getting the better part of the deal. And they thought to cheat me, if they could.”

The boxy little drone seemed such an unlikely avatar for the cynical, world weary tone coming from it, Imogen had to hold back a smile.

“Cheating me was a serious mistake.”

Whatever humor she'd felt died at the last sentence, icy and just a little smug.

“What do you mean?” She had turned in the direction they wanted her to go but took one last look over her shoulder in time to see the tip of the Krik's boot disappear around a corner.

The drone didn't answer her question, but as they moved down the passage, she had to press close to the wall to allow another drone to pass. There was a dead Krik in the box that made up most of its bulk, and it dragged another Krik by his head, the clamp digging in on either side of his skull.

“How many are dead?” She had meant to ask boldly, to demand an an answer, but her voice was only capable of a whisper.

“Nearly all of them.” The drone turned back to face the way they were going. “Come along.”

* * *

I
mogen sat in a comfortable chair
, the back lowered a little and the feet raised, while one of the drones moved a slim silver wand gently over her bruised eye and cheek.

It put the wand down and placed two small packs on her face with some kind of adhesive on the back. She instantly felt a pleasant warmth seep deep into her bones.

It wasn't enough to make her relax, though.

Something had happened in the med chamber.

There was a hole in the ceiling on one side of the room and medical instruments lay scattered on the floor. There was also a scrape along the inside of the door. A chair lay on its side, damaged, and Imogen guessed the chair had caused the scrape. As if someone had tried to use it to batter their way out.

The other two drones had immediately started picking things up and straightening the room, but they couldn't erase the sense of panic the long, deep gouge evoked.

She hadn't thought herself a coward. She'd fought where she could, cooperated when it was clear it was her best strategy, and she'd survived.

The encounter with the Krik had been different.

She had thought she would die, no matter what she did, and her bravery with Toloco had a nihilistic edge.

But looking at the scrape, remembering the sight of the Krik being casually dragged by his hair to wherever they were disposing of the bodies, she had the sense of being on a tightrope.

There may be a right way to do this, to get out alive, but one wrong move, and the mysterious person or people she was dealing with would think nothing of crushing her.

She took a deep breath. “Why am I here?”

The drone made a tiny movement back and forward, almost as if it was prevaricating, and then it slid back and using its long, telescopic arm, offered her a cup of water. She hadn't had anything to eat or drink since before the Krik had taken her prisoner, and she gulped it down thirstily. Before she got to the last swallow, though, she started feeling guilty about Captain Kalor and the other prisoners.

“Do the others in the hold have water and some food?” She tried to make the final sip last, holding the water in her mouth.

“No.” The drone sounded like a drone, now. Devoid of emotion.

“Will you send them some?” She made the question as respectful as she could.

“Why?” The voice was different again, no longer monotone, but curious.

She blinked. “Because they are stuck in there without anything because of you.”

There was a beat of silence. “That is true.”

“Why are we here, all of us?” She tried the question again. The gel packs on her face had lost most of their heat, and she peeled them off, and then jerked in surprise when the drone held out a tray for her to put them on. When it moved back to throw them away, she slid out of the chair.

The built-in tap where the drone had gotten the water from was above the counter in front of her, and she took her cup and filled it again. When she turned from the wall, all three drones were lined up, watching her.

The cup shook as she brought it to her lips and swallowed.

They had put the shockguns they'd been carrying in the boxes that made up most of their body when they entered the med chamber, but there was something very disturbing about the way their lenses focused on her now. As if she was a particularly ugly bug.

Her heartbeat was deafening, and the water she'd just swallowed sat uneasily in her stomach.

“You need food.”

The words were so surprising, she choked as she swallowed another sip. “So do the people in the hold.”

“Come.” They all turned precisely together, sending a shiver through her, but she followed them out into the passageway and back the way she'd come.

One of the closed doors opened, and she found herself in a comfortable room, with dining tables and chairs to one side, and couches and low tables on the other. A large screen sat on the far wall, but instead of lens feed, like she was used to, it exuded a pale turquoise blue light that gave the room the feel of being under water.

“Sit.” The drones indicated one of the dining chairs, and she sat, noticing everything was clipped to the floor.

One of them rolled off and went through a narrow door at one end of the room, and the other two took up position on either side of her.

Imogen put her hands on the table and stared at them. They were clean, although the nails were ragged. She had managed to negotiate showers with her guards on Balco, but not every day. On the runner, they'd been happy for her to shower whenever she'd wanted to, there being no danger of her escaping.

She looked up, but the drone hadn't come back. They seemed to be waiting for it. “Do you mind if I do some exercises?”

There was a moment of silence. “Exercises?”

“Move my body, to keep it healthy.”

“You need to do this?” He was back, whoever the puppet master of these drones was, speaking straight to her.

“I do.”

The drones moved back a little, giving her room. “Then you may.”

She stood, and then went into some warm-up tai chi, the smooth, fluid movements calming her, helping her gain her serenity again. She had progressed to some core yoga exercises when the third drone returned, a tray in hand.

Food.

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, breathed out, and sat down. Her hands were shaking with eagerness. Her heart lurched again at the thought of the hold full of people, feeling just as hungry.

The tray was covered with small bowls and excitement stirred within her that she'd perhaps get something other than the protein and vitamin bars the Tecran had given her. But when the drone set it in front of her, most of it looked desiccated or was less than a mouthful.

She gingerly picked up what looked like a slice of bread but it tasted musty and she grimaced as she swallowed.

“You don't like it?”

“It tastes as if it's going bad. Is it old?”

The drone took the small plate and seemed to study it. Then it turned and went back through the narrow door.

“Is this the ship that abducted me?” The question came out before she could think better of it.

She didn't look at either drone as she asked, concentrating on grasping a thin slice of dark purple fruit from a bowl.

“Why do you ask?”

“The hold where I was earlier looks the same.” She hadn't thought about it until now, but if this was the ship that had taken her, where were all the Tecran?

The Krik might have boarded the ship and taken it from them, she supposed. It would explain why they'd murdered all her guards on the runner, but now the Krik had all been killed, too.

How many dead did that make?

The small piece of bitter blue fruit she'd put in her mouth seemed to lodge in her throat, and she had to choke it down, appetite gone.

When the drone returned, the bread he was holding was steaming a little. “This is fresh.”

She hadn't eaten in nearly a day and she swallowed back the gagging sensation and forced herself to pick up a slice, careful of the heat, and take a bite.

It
was
fresh, the texture chewy and soft. “Can we give some of this to the others?”

Silence again.

She ate another piece, but she couldn't keep trying to bring the issue up and then letting it slide when she got nowhere. The prisoners would be getting desperate for water now.

And she still had that promise to herself. She'd go out with a bang, not a whimper. If she was going to die, at least trying to get food and water for Kalor and his people was a noble way to go.

She stood up. “If you won't give them water and food, I will.” She maneuvered around the drones and headed for the narrow door, which she guessed led to the kitchen.

She didn't turn to see if she was being followed, but she guessed she was.

She didn't run, they'd catch her no matter how fast she was, so she forced herself to keep her stride smooth and even and determined. She was so surprised to reach the door, she shoved at it when she reached it.

The room beyond was a kitchen, but instead of the neat, clutter-free space she'd expected, it looked like it had been the scene of a massive battle.

There were scorch marks on the walls and ceiling, and it looked as if the attack had happened while the cook was preparing dinner, and he or she had thrown whatever they had at hand in their defense.