The Captive (23 page)

“Falkon?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure.”

He kissed her soundly, then stood up and pulled her to her
feet. “Let’s do it.”

Exhilarated by the promise of freedom, they dressed quickly.
Falkon helped her mount, then swung up behind her.

It was, he thought, shaping up to be one of the best days of
his life.

When they were within sight of the house, Falkon dismounted
and Ashlynne activated the shackles on his wrists. Trailing a respectful
distance behind her horse, he followed her through the massive side gate and
around the back of the house to the stable.

A man came forward to help her dismount. His gaze moved over
Falkon, his expression blatantly disapproving as he took the stallion’s reins
and led it into the barn.

“Come along, Number Four,” Ashlynne said.

He fell into step behind her. The new house was even more
impressive than the old one, he mused, and wondered if, one day, she would be
sorry she had left it all behind for a man who had nothing.

When they reached the house, she turned to face him. “Wait
here. I’m going inside to tell Kerolena that I’ve decided to go shopping in the
city.”

Falkon nodded.

“I won’t be long.”

Ten minutes later, she was back, followed by a tall,
sour-faced man. Falkon recognized him as one of Hassrick’s bodyguards, but he
had eyes only for Ashlynne. She had changed her riding clothes for a green
dress that made her eyes glow like emeralds, and a pair of low-heeled white
boots. She had a large bag slung over one shoulder.

“Let’s go, Number Four.”

He obeyed without question.

The sour-paced man opened the door of the shuttle and handed
Ashlynne inside.

“Thank you, Brill,” she said coolly. “Get in, Number Four.”

Falkon ducked inside and sat in the last seat. A moment
later, the shackles on his ankles snapped together.

Brill slid into the driver’s seat.

It took the better part of two hours to reach Partha. It was
a large city laid out in concentric circles. The shopping area was in the
center. It was a beautiful city. The buildings, made of white sandstone and
glass, reflected the sun’s light, so that the whole city seemed to sparkle. The
streets were wide, lined with trees, trees that had almost become extinct only
a few decades ago. Fortunately, the people of Partha realized their value
before it was too late.

Brill parked the shuttle on the landing strip, exited the
vehicle and opened the door for Ashlynne. She released the shackles on Falkon’s
hands and feet and stepped out of the craft.

Falkon followed her. He stood to one side, his head bowed,
his hands clasped, trying to look properly submissive.

“Oh, Brill, I think I left my bag on the floor.” She smiled
at him. “Would you get it for me, please?”

With a grunt, Brill leaned into the vehicle.

As soon as his back was turned, Ashlynne pulled the stun gun
from her pocket and fired it at his back. He dropped to the ground like a rock.

“Where’d you get that from?”

She shrugged. “It’s the one I took from Casman’s quarters.”

“You’ve had it all this time?”

She shook her head. “No. Niklaus took it from me. I found it
in his room.” She glanced around, afraid someone might take notice of what was
going on, but, luckily, the area was deserted, at least for the moment. “What
are we going to do about him?” she asked, nodding at Brill.

Falkon found a length of rope in the back of the shuttle. He
quickly lashed Brill’s hands and feet together, then, slinging the big man over
his shoulder, he carried him to a large recycling receptacle and dumped him
inside. The man landed with a resounding thud.

“Hurry,” Ashlynne called, and climbed back into the shuttle.

Falkon scrambled into the driver’s seat, hit the controls,
and the shuttle shot forward. It was a remarkably speedy craft, easy to handle.
He looked over at Ashlynne and grinned. “Nice work, sweetheart.”

She grinned back at him. “Thank you. Where are we going?”

“We passed a small space port on the way here. We can hitch
a ride to Nardin and get transport to Cherlin Four from there.”

* * * * *

It was remarkably easy to find transport. There was a
cruiser preparing to leave for Cherlin Four when they arrived. Ashlynne signed
for the necessary credits ten minutes later, they were on their way.

Ashlynne took hold of Falkon’s hand as the ship lifted off.
She had packed one of Niklaus’s shirts in her bag and Falkon had slipped it on
before they entered the space port. The shirt was dark blue, with a high neck
and long sleeves, effectively covering the collar and cuffs that marked him as
slave.

She hadn’t said anything to him before, but she didn’t care
for space travel. The wild flight from Enjine Base Nine had been her first
experience. She had hoped it would be her last.

Falkon looked over at her and smiled. “You all right?”

She nodded. “How long will it take us to get there?”

“We should arrive tomorrow afternoon.” He squeezed her hand.
“You’ll like Darf and his wife.”

“Where did you meet them?”

Falkon chuckled. “I met Darf about four years ago in a
run-down cantina on Cherlin Four. A couple of drunken Hodorians were giving him
a hard time. They had him shoved up against a wall. One of them had a knife.
They were laughing at him, said they were going to shave his whole body so they
could see what was under all that hair.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “I was a little drunk myself and looking for a
fight, so…”

“So you went to his rescue?”

“Yeah. Those Hodorians are big, but soft. When they were
gone, Darf and I celebrated our victory. By the time the bottle was empty, we
were good friends.”

“Is he married?”

“Yeah. You’ll like Chaney.”

Ashlynne nodded uncertainly. In her sheltered life, she had
rarely met people from exotic planets. She had seen pictures of other races;
the hairy people of Cherlin Four, the yellow-skinned people of Cenia, the
giants of Andoria.

“Relax, sweetheart. People are pretty much the same all
over, no matter what they look like.”

* * * * *

The flight to Cherlin Four was uneventful. Ashlynne stared
at the tele-screen located on the back of the seat in front of her, but her
mind was elsewhere. Brill had probably made his way back to the house by now.
No doubt he had contacted Niklaus. One thing she was sure of, Niklaus wouldn’t
let her go without a fight. He wanted the mine. That was why he had married
her. Not because he had promised her father, not because he wanted her, but
because of the mine. But it would never be his. She had seen to that.

It was late afternoon when they arrived on Cherlin Four.

Ashlynne couldn’t help staring as they made their way
through the space port. Cherlin Four had been designated as the neutral planet
for this quadrant by the Confederation and people from every race and culture
intermingled. Giants and dwarfs moved side by side. She had never realized
people came in so many sizes and colors.

Outside, they found a shuttle for hire. Falkon gave the
driver directions, then climbed into the back seat beside Ashlynne.

Moments later, they were underway.

Falkon frowned as the driver kept glancing at him.
“Something wrong?”

“Those shackles you wear.”

Falkon cursed softly as he tugged the sleeve of his shirt
down over the cuff on his left wrist.

“Get them off you, I can.”

“Really?” Ashlynne leaned forward. “How?”

“Expensive, it is.”

“It doesn’t matter. Can you do it now?”

“Now, yes.”

The shuttle made a sudden turn, snaking back the way they
had come. A quarter of an hour later, the driver stopped in front of a rather
disreputable looking building.

Ashlynne looked at Falkon. “I don’t like this,” she
whispered.

“Give me the gun.”

She slid it to him while the driver exited the shuttle.

“Coming, are you?” the driver asked.

“What is this place?” Ashlynne asked.

“Live here, I do.” The driver opened the shuttle door.
“Coming, are you?”

“Let’s go,” Falkon said. He got out of the vehicle, turned,
and offered Ashlynne his hand.

The driver led the way. Ashlynne stayed close to Falkon, her
heart pounding with trepidation.

The house was just what Ashlynne expected: small, dark, and
dirty. A large spotted hound growled at them from a corner.

The driver waved at a dingy couch. “Down, sit,” he said.
“Back soon will I be.” And so saying, he left the room.

Ashlynne glanced at the couch, and remained standing. So did
Falkon.

“We shouldn’t have come in here,” Ashlynne whispered. She
sent a wary glance at the dog. The animal stood in the corner, hackles raised,
teeth bared.

The driver emerged a few minutes later carrying a long
silver metal tube. “Pay first you must,” he said.

“How much?” Falkon asked.

“To my account, one thousand credits.” The driver punched
his account number into a grimy-looking comport, and Ashlynne made the
necessary transfer of funds.

Falkon lifted his arms. “Get busy.”

The driver nodded, and then, in a quick move, he drew a
knife and pressed the point into Falkon’s belly.

Falkon had been expecting something like that and he was
ready for it. Palming the stun gun, he fired it at point blank range. The knife
and the silver tube clattered to the floor; the driver dropped down beside
them, paralyzed from head to foot.

Falkon picked up the silver tube and turned it over in his
hands. There was a single switch at one end.

“How does it work?” Ashlynne asked.

“I’m not sure.” Sitting down on the edge of the couch, he pressed
the tube against the shackle on his right foot and depressed the switch. The
shackle on his ankle opened and fell to the floor.

In moments, he was free.

He lifted a hand to his throat, turned his head from side to
side, sighed with pleasure at being able to move with the edge of the collar
cutting into his skin.

Ashlynne glanced down at the driver. “Let’s get out of
here.”

With a nod, Falkon grabbed her hand and they left the house.

Ashlynne glanced up and down the deserted street. “Now
what?”

Falkon opened the door of the shuttle. “Get in.”

She didn’t argue. “I’ll say one thing,” she murmured as she
closed the door. “Being with you is never boring.”

* * * * *

Ashlynne peered out the window while Falkon parked the
shuttle. The house, which was round, was located in the middle of a patch of
stubby yellow-green grass. Several shaggy sheep grazed in the shade of an
enormous tree, the likes of which Ashlynne had never seen. The leaves, a
peculiar burnt orange in color, were huge and diamond-shaped.

She followed Falkon up the narrow pathway that led to the
front door.

He took her hand in his. “Relax.”

“What if they don’t like me?”

“They’ll love you.”

He rapped sharply on the door. It swung open a few moments
later to reveal a tall male covered from head to foot with pale beige hair. He
was, Ashlynne thought, rather homely, with his wiry hair and pale yellow eyes.

“Falkon! Bless the stars, what are you doing here?” The
Cherlin threw his arms around Falkon. “Damn, I’m glad to see you.”

“Easy, Darf,” Falkon said, laughing, “you’re gonna smother
me!”

Darf backed off. “I forget how weak you humans are,” he
said, a grin spreading over his face. His gaze rested on Ashlynne. “Now, who’s
this pretty little thing?”

Falkon slid his arm around Ashlynne’s shoulders. “Ashlynne,
this is Darf. Darf, Lady Ashlynne of Myrafloures.”

Darf stared at Falkon, his expression one of surprise, and
then respect as he bowed to Ashlynne. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, my
Lady,” he said. “Welcome to our house.”

“Thank you.”

“Darf,” called a female voice, “who’s at the door?”

Darf clapped Falkon on the arm. “What are you waiting for?
Come on in.”

They followed their host inside, to be met by a female with
long brown hair. Her eyes were also yellow, though of a brighter, more golden
hue than her husband’s.

“Falkon!” she squealed, and hurled herself into his arms.

The female was as pretty as the male was homely, Ashlynne
thought, only then noticing that neither of the Cherlin wore clothing, but
then, covered as they were with hair, she supposed there was no need.

The living room was large and airy. There were fur rugs on
the floor, modernistic paintings on the walls, a shelf of vidbooks and movies,
another shelf filled with a variety of exotic animals and fish carved from
ebony wood.

Falkon introduced her to Darf’s wife, Chaney, who also bowed
to Ashlynne, then fluttered around, inviting them to sit, asking if they wanted
something to eat or drink.

Ashlynne declined, but Falkon accepted a drink.

“Now,” Darf said, when they were all settled, “tell us
everything. Last we heard, you had been sent to the mines of Tierde. We feared
you had been killed in the attack.”

“Obviously not,” Falkon replied.

“Obviously.”

Chaney leaned forward, her eyes alight. “Tell us, Falkon,
how did you get away?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have time,” Chaney said.

“Yes,” Darf said, “start at the beginning.” He glanced at
Ashlynne, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “And don’t leave anything out.”

* * * * *

“Well,” Chaney exclaimed an hour later, “that’s some story.”
She looked at Ashlynne and smiled. “We are expecting our first child, as well.”

“Is that right?” Falkon said. “Congratulations, you two. I
know you’ve been trying for quite a while.” He grinned at Darf. “I was
beginning to wonder about your…ah…” He glanced at Ashlynne and Chaney.
“Virility.”

Darf punched Falkon’s shoulder. “Very funny.”

“When is your baby due?” Chaney asked.

“I’m not sure. In about six months, I think. Yours?”

“Any day now.”

Ashlynne nodded. “You don’t look it,” she said, then
blushed.

Chaney laughed good-naturedly as she ran a hand over her
hairy belly. “I can hide quite a bit under all this.”