Warrior Rogue (The Drift Lords Series) (22 page)

Yet that wasn’t likely, since you couldn’t always tell an individual had been confounded. Maybe it was the missing people who’d raised alarms. Either way, any investigation would be dangerous and would have to be deeply covert.

A chill shuddered through her. It appeared she’d stumbled onto something a lot bigger than she and Paz had expected.

Chapter Fifteen

Paz regretted leaving Jen to her own resources, but he had no choice. After parting from her at Manga World, he followed his nose to where the smell of burnt filaments was strongest.

The olfactory trail of cors particles led him, as he’d thought it might, to a door labeled
Staff Only
in the back of a souvenir shop at a Flying Wizards attraction. From there, he bet it would take him into a series of underground utility tunnels like at Drift World.

He eyed the staff members, mostly Asians. A uniform would help disguise him in case security cameras were trained on the staff door.

He selected a taller than average man as his target and signaled him. “Excuse me,” he said in English plus sign language. “Can you direct me to the men’s room?” When the guy jabbered back, Paz frowned. “Sorry, I don’t understand. Would you mind showing me the way?”

Outside, he lured the fellow behind a planter and subdued him with a Morabi nerve jab. A few minutes later, he walked into the store wearing the man’s uniform and headed for the private door. If the design of this place was anything like Drift World, a room below would hold the portal back to Togura Island.

He descended a concrete staircase into a series of utility corridors. Wondering which way to go at a junction, he adjusted his backpack across his shoulders. He’d feel a lot better with a stash of weapons. All he had for defense were his own hands and a pocketknife.

Paz missed the weight of his personal dagger. That treasured item, given to him upon graduation at the Academy, had been lost along with his clothing in the ocean. He’d lost more than his belongings in that final battle. Adrift without his team on an alien world, he felt isolated and alone.

If he hadn’t met Jen…it frightened him how much he needed her. Whenever he grasped her hand, he felt stronger, more capable, and able to accomplish any task. How did she do that to him? And why was he thinking of her when his mind should be on his mission?

Hearing voices coming from around the corner, he slid into a recess and sucked in a breath. A couple of beasts stomped past wearing military-cut trousers and belted tunics. They carried laser carbines. He was definitely in the right place.

Should he follow them? They might merely be on patrol. He needed to find the transfer station.

A couple of human staffers came into view from around the corner. They escorted a small group of guests who stared straight ahead in a blank manner. Paz waited until they passed and then dashed forward to take a position at the column’s rear. He mumbled a noncommittal reply when one of the employees shot him a question.

His muscles tensed as they approached a door flanked by two armed Trolleks.

Their entourage halted. The guy in the lead exchanged a few words with one of the soldiers. The beefy Trollek surveyed the unhappy lot of visitors, six men and two young women. He said something that made his friend chortle. Then they stepped aside to allow the group passage.

Paz’s heart pounded in his chest as he sauntered by, head lowered. Would they notice he was too tall for an Asian? That he was a lot more muscular than these puny humans? That he wore a backpack and they didn’t?

Evidently not, because his presence didn’t raise any alarms. They were used to unquestioned obedience from their mind slaves, including the staff members among them. He fixed his face into a mask so as not to betray his excitement when he saw the apparatus ahead. An archway formed over a raised circular platform, its canopy supported by four columns. One post held a control panel.

At a barked command from the lead staffer, the guests stepped upon the dais. Paz carefully observed the code punched in by the fellow at the touchpad. The air under the archway shimmered, and in the blink of an eye, the people vanished. Paz wrinkled his nose. The chemical smell of burning filaments that accompanied vector shifts pervaded the air.

When the other employees turned to leave, he waved them on, stooping as though to fix his shoe. Hopefully they wouldn’t notice his boots under the uniform’s pant cuffs.

He’d have to wait until the reception committee met the victims on the other side. He pitied them if they were destined for Tent Ten. None of those folks would survive.

Didn’t anyone ever miss them? He supposed their companions at the park were confounded, too. They’d be sent home with the excuse to tell everyone their friend or family member had been called away. But what happened when they never returned? Surely some people must make inquiries.

Anyway, he couldn’t think about that now.

After a sweat-inducing interval, he stepped onto the platform, punched in the code he’d seen the Trollek input, and gritted his teeth for the bone-jarring sensation of a vector shift. The room tilted, lost focus, and rematerialized into the chamber at Shirajo Manor that held two portals.

Paz let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. No one occupied the room. In two quick leaps, he made it onto the larger platform. Cables snaked from the basement, which housed the generator, to receptacles on the arch itself.

He took out the specialized scanner he’d constructed in their hotel room, cobbled together from the electronics he’d acquired at a consumer store. Taking a reading from the other side of the dimensional rift should give him the information he needed. Along with the copied data from the room downstairs, it would tell him how the Trolleks forced open the gates.

Poised to go through the barrier, he swallowed hard. He’d only been to the Trollek home world once before, and it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. They had guards on the other side and weapons aimed at the gate. He didn’t have any sonic grenades to toss through this time to disable the enemy. He’d just have to make this visit a quick one.

Remembering the activation code, he keyed it on the control panel. The disorienting sensations that followed were much worse than a simple spatial shift between locations on the same plane. He felt an instant of disembodiment, where he appeared to be weightless in a void.

Another presence loomed from the depths. He sensed its anger, its challenge at his invasion. It pulled him down, siphoning his energy. He resisted by strength of will, picturing himself on the other side.

Then he was there, facing a contingent of guards who fired at him as soon as he stepped across the threshold. He merely had to wait until the scanner light turned green, meaning it had completed its job. Come on, he thought, dodging laser beams.

From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed woods in the background and two moons in the sky. He smelled wood fires and the fresh scent of rain.

A loud ratcheting noise came from a construction off to the side. He couldn’t see past its housing but it made a steady
gud-a-lump
,
gud-a-lump
sound. Cables snaked from the thing to the archway. He looked up, noting the bits and pieces of metal imbedded in the arch. A frown creased his brow as he tried to make sense of it.

Light reflected off an array of mirrors facing the gate. They reminded him of radio satellite dishes on Earth aimed at space the way they were laid out in even rows.

He dove sideways as a laser bolt sizzled past. His move put him in the path of a disruptor beam which he barely dodged. Ozone tinged the air along with cors particles.

Suddenly, the barrage of fire stopped. A quick glance told him the troops were gathering to rush him.

He was running out of time.

The light on his scanner turned green.

He whirled, punching in the return code. A hot, blazing pain stabbed his leg, making him falter. He squinted as lights flickered around him, and the world spun. In the next instant, the room back at Shirajo Manor sprang into sight. As soon as his vision cleared, he staggered off the platform.

Searing heat burned his leg. He gasped, sweat dotting his brow as he limped forward. His glance dropped to his thigh.

He’d been hit.

Fortunately, he still wore the staff uniform over his own clothing. The double layer of fabric had taken some of the brunt from the laser. He grimaced at the scorch marks, not wanting to imagine what his flesh looked like beneath. At least the hot beam had cauterized the wound, so he wouldn’t bleed out.

He gritted his teeth against the agony. He’d been hurt worse. He would deal with it later.

He stored his scanner in a pocket as he dragged himself toward the opposite platform. Each step felt like a mile. He climbed onto the dais while shards of pain made his breath hitch. Pressing his lips tight, he reversed the code from before and ended up back at Manga World.

Somehow he made it through the utility corridors and up the stairs to the surface while avoiding detection. That final effort nearly undid him. He hesitated before entering the gift shop, his chest heaving. The Trolleks might be looking for an intruder at Shirajo Manor, but not here. Although, they’d trace where he’d gone soon enough.

He glanced at his chronometer. Nearly time to meet Jen. He must have spent more time down in the utility corridors than he realized.

Inside the shop, he snatched a kimono-type robe, a fake gray beard, and a wizard’s hat with an attached wig and paid for them with cash Jen had given him. In a nearby restroom, he exchanged his staff uniform for the disguise. The robe would hide his leg injury.

Outdoors in the afternoon sunshine, he put a blank look on his face as he headed for the exit. It wasn’t easy. Whenever he put any weight on his leg, his gut lurched and his head swam. If only he had a hypospray from his medkit.

Just get out of here. See if Jen is safe.

He clenched his jaw, dragging himself forward, once again cursing his lack of equipment and the situation that had landed him there. How would he make it to Florida now when he could barely walk?

****

Jen paced outside the front gate where Paz was due to meet her. She hadn’t waited around for the results of her finger prick, slipping away from her cubicle and back into the gift shop when no one was looking. She’d hastened toward the exit, glad to escape unhindered.

She tapped her foot impatiently, anxious for Paz’s safe return. Where was the man?

Peering over her sunglasses, she scanned the guests streaming through the turnstiles. Asians mixed with westerners but she saw no sign of her handsome warrior.

An old man dressed in a kimono and a pointy hat hobbled toward her, his robe swishing with each slow step.

He nudged her as he shuffled past. “Let’s move. We’ll take the tram into the city.”

Her jaw dropped. “Paz? I never would have guessed. But why the tram? It makes too many stops. The subway would be faster.”

“It’s too far to walk, and I can’t do the steps.”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed as he limped forward. “What happened to you? Did you get the info you needed?” She knew that would have been his priority.

“Yes, I did. How about you?” His lips pressed together.

Jen didn’t like his pale complexion but deemed it unwise to question him where they might be overheard. “I have news, but we’ll talk later.”

His face pinched as he climbed aboard the tram. He sank into a seat with an audible sigh.

She bit back her concern to gaze out the window. Tenements whizzed past, laundry strung out on balconies to dry. A stiff breeze made the fabrics billow like so many sails. Kids tossed a ball on a concrete lot, their lone playground. They dodged puddles on the ground, remnants from the storm.

Debris scattered the area, tree branches and broken awnings and trash. As they got closer toward town, hilly streets bustled with people laden with shopping bags. Vendor stalls that had been folded away for the tempest now thrived with customers.

“Where should we get off?” Jen asked Paz.

He didn’t respond. He’d closed his eyes and slumped in his seat.

“Paz, what’s wrong? You don’t look so good.”

“I’ve been shot.” His voice quaked. It appeared to be an effort for him even to speak.

“Dear Lord. Where─?”

“My leg.” A groan escaped his lips as their tram hit a pothole.

“We need to get you to a hospital.”

“No way. Take me back to the hostelry.” Before they’d left, Jen had reserved their suite for a couple of extra nights just in case they needed a safe place to stay again.

Her pulse raced. There went her hope to exchange information and then catch a flight home. She figured Paz could find someone in Hong Kong to provide him with a passport. But her warrior was in no condition to go anywhere.

She considered their only other option.

“That dog, Dikibie, said he’d give us a ship if we got him a drop of dragon blood. Do you believe him?”

“Even if I did, I’m in no shape to fight a dragon.”

“We have to get you fixed up.”

“No medics. I wouldn’t be able to explain the scorch mark.”

“Scorch mark?”

“I got hit by phase weapon fire.”

She swallowed, panic tightening her throat. “So what should we do?”

“I’ll treat my wound in the hotel room.”

Somehow he managed the short walk from the tram stop to their hotel. Jen got curious stares from strangers as she guided the feeble old man, her arm around his waist for support.

Once inside their suite, Paz slipped the backpack from his shoulders, tore off his disguise, and collapsed on the bed.

Jen disengaged her purse and pack and then rushed to his side. He lay sprawled out and unconscious.

“Paz, wake up.” She shook him, frantic with worry.

On the nightstand stood the radio he’d remodeled to emit a high frequency signal to repel the Trolleks. At least they wouldn’t be disturbed by the beasts in here.

His face looked so pale. She surveyed the crescent of his lashes, the strong angles of his jaw, and the perfect shape of his mouth. She missed his dimples when he flashed a sexy grin.