Finding Lara (Distant Worlds Book 3) (2 page)

“I’m sorry, have you met
Lara?”  She asked pointedly.

Tolan Lark sighed. “Point
taken,” he said to Barnos’ amazement. 

The girl must be a right
hellion
, Barnos thought, grimacing at the idea of dealing
with an underage spoiled party girl.  Thankfully, there was no way Tolan Lark
would take this job.  They had bigger game.

“So, what do you need
from me that the High Ambassador’s connections can’t provide?”

Barnos looked at the
mercenary as if he had lost his mind, then took another look at the marines. 
Shite.
 
If they were after the High Ambassador’s child, they were the best of the best,
and he was neck deep in Alliance Business — somewhere he definitely did not
want to be. But the she-cat went on like it was a foregone conclusion that the
mercenary would help, which Barnos would bet good platinum would never happen.

Since Nori was once again
struggling with her nature, whatever she had to say was going to be bad.  Her
eyes flashing lavender told the story, as she fought to spit the words out, but
it was the grim voice of her mate that finally clued them in. “We tracked her
captors to a transport heading for the outer sectors of Montrouge.”

Both Barnos and Tolan
Lark froze at that.  Lark went from an easy ready stance to pissed Shakien cat,
complete with blue fur rippling up and over his human-looking skin to sparking
lavender eyes.  Barnos understood the rage he fought.  If he could think of the
worst place for a teenage girl to end up, it was Montrouge.  Located well past
Alliance space, and incidentally beyond the jurisdiction of any law but “Might
makes Right,” it was known throughout the galaxy as the slavers’ paradise.  A
pleasure planet where you could wallow in any vice man could dream up for a
price.  And they specialized in pleasure slaves.

***

Lara woke up abruptly,
her head pounding from whatever drug they had knocked her out with.  The room
was dark, but the console on the entry hatch blinked red at her, giving the
room at least enough light to make out shadows.  She swallowed hard, trying to
work some moisture back into her mouth.  Looking around as she did, she tried to
remember how she came to be here, but her brain was still fuzzy and didn’t want
to engage.  “Lights,” she called weakly, then had to cough and try again when
she barely made a sound through her scratchy throat.  The second time was
louder, but the computer refused to respond.  Finally, she was able to sit up, but
had to hold her head when the pounding in her temple intensified so that the
pain beat at her.  She gasped, tears leaking out of her squinted eyes.  It was
probably a good thing the lights didn’t go on. The way her head felt a flash of
bright light would probably kill her.

She changed her mind when
she heard movement beside her.  Her eyes snapped open and her head twisted
despite the pain it caused; she searched the room frantically for what had made
the noise.  Then she heard crying, so soft and muffled it took her a moment to
identify it for what it was. The pain and fear in that barely there voice was
enough to bring fresh tears to her own eyes.

“Is somebody there?”  Her
voice broke in sympathy even as the crying stopped instantly.  “Please,” she
said searching the dark in the direction of the sound, “I’m not going to hurt
you.  I don’t know where I am, or how I got here.”

“Stop talking,” someone
whispered frantically from the other side of the dark room.  “If they hear you
they’ll come back.”

“Who?” Lara made an
attempt to lower her voice but her own whisper was just as frantic.  “Who will
hear me and come back?  Where are we?  Why are we here?”

“Shut up!” came the voice
again.  “You’ll get us all in trouble!”

Lara opened her mouth to
say something else, but before she could, there was a pounding on the walls. 
It was clearly a warning as she felt the tension and fear in the room rise like
a stench to choke her.  Whatever was on the other side of that wall, clearly,
everyone else knew what it meant and it was nothing good.  She breathed in and
wrapped her arms around her raised knees. Laying her aching head down, she hid
her face and tried to breathe through her panic.  What was it Nori always said? 
Panic never saved anyone from anything.  Keep your head down and watch for
your chance.

She nearly jumped out of
her skin when a small hand found her hair in the dark and then quickly
retreated when she gasped.  She raised her head and looked around, but there
was still nothing to see in the dark and shadows.  Then she felt something
small move closer to her side, and the hand return.  Realizing what it was Lara
latched onto it gratefully in the dark and held on.  The hand was half the size
of hers.  A child’s hand, shaking even as it asked for comfort.  She did not
stop to think; she just wrapped her arms around the child and pulled it into
her side.  The wings were a shock, but as they folded in tightly to the small
back tiny enough to fit into the curve of her waist, she felt tears come to her
eyes.  This time in sympathy to the shaking fear that curled so trustingly into
her side.

“What’s your name?” she
asked as quietly as she could.  There was a silence so long that she switched
to Avian, figuring the child must be from the winged people of Avia.  She felt
the thrum of shock go through the small body when she asked the question again
in that language.  Still, she thought when the silence lengthened that she
would get no answer.  She pulled up in her memory everything she had learned of
the Avian people.  A winged warrior class, they healed rapidly, and were
ferocious fighters when cornered, though they were not a warring people. 
Keenly intuitive to the intentions of others they considered most humanoids to
be deceptive tricksters, making them rabid isolationists. 
So how did one
end up alone in the big universe? 

Then she heard a small boy’s
shaky answer in the same language.  “Thaos.”

Lara sighed and hugged
him closer trying to share her warmth to ease his shivering body, even if it
was fear rather than cold that caused it.  “Don’t worry, Thaos,” she said in
the same small whisper, her words holding all her naive faith in happy
endings.  “I’ll get us out of this.”  More pounding on the wall, louder and
angrier this time, and she felt Thaos clutch her tighter.  With barely any
voice at all she finished, hiding her small niggling doubts with an effort.  “As
soon as I figure out what ‘this’ is.”

They must have fallen
asleep because the next thing Lara knew was the flashing on of lights and an
angry voice bellowing in ship standard.

“Up.  Everyone up for
inspection!”

Lara looked at what were her
captors.  She felt Thaos hovering at her back where she had pushed him
instinctively when the lights went on.  She was not thrilled to see the
reptilian Maize people, even if they did have an exotic beauty in their
iridescent scaled skin and luminescent eyes.  They moved with a sensual grace
that could only be described as a slither, and while most humanoids shuddered
in fear whenever they saw one, she had always thought there was a wild beauty
to their graceful form.  But whatever fascination she had with their outer
appearance, the fact that they were known slavers negated it significantly.  If
she had learned nothing else on her father’s knee, it was the inside that mattered.

When one very angry
hissing Maize approached her brandishing his whip when she did not move fast
enough, she sunk into the Maize formal bow of greeting.  Honestly, as supple as
they were she was lucky she had studied dance in many cultures or it would have
been an impossible contortion.  As it was she held herself completely still
with an effort her pounding head and aching body did not appreciate, and waited
for either an acknowledgment or, more likely, the whip.  Instead, a heavy
silence fell on the cargo area, which Lara noted in passing was much bigger
than she had supposed, and right now the entire long length of it seemed to be
hushed and looking at her.  She held the form, even though her raised leg and
bowed head were in an awkward and painful position, and as per her education,
she held perfectly still as if she could hold it all day.  Which incidentally
she had once had to do when her father caught her smuggling a hurt Farno into
her room.  She had been young enough to overlook the poison of his fangs and
old enough to feel his pain — a deadly combination, even for Hetians who were
born with the ability to calm aggression just with their presence.  She was
very much hoping that stood her in good stead here.  She really did not want to
be whipped.

Then she felt it; the
cool touch on the back of her head that signaled acceptance of the honor
bestowed.  Lara relaxed her stance back to a more human stand that she could
hold without shaking and raised her eyes.  The Maize slaver before her was taller
than her by a solid foot.  So short for a Maize, which explained the
unfortunate job of wrangler.  It held very little distinction for their people,
unlike the traders and security forces.  But looking into the small orbs of
glowing light that were the Maize eyes, she was careful to show the correct
respect due him.  Her hands stayed clasped before her as she spoke the hard
click clack and hiss of the Maize tongue without emotional cadence.  “Greetings,
honored host.  I fear I have arrived in error and with rudeness.  Might I
trouble you for information on my present circumstance?”  If anyone had ever
heard the click clack of the Maize tongue and had no idea what it meant, they
would assume a primitive dialect, but the interpretation was actually surprisingly
formal in all circumstances.

After a tidal wave of
shock seemed to coast over the room, the Maize responded with the same
formality.  “What is your designation?”

“I am the Honorable Lady
Lara of Heti, daughter to the great and honorable High Ambassador Tryne of the
Alliance Peace Keepers.  And Yourself?”

There was a moment of
silence before the Maize bowed his head in formal apology.  “I am Dorcet,
dishonored wrangler.  I apologize to say you are no longer Honorable Lady of
Heti but slave.  We thank you for your sacrifice as you will bring much wealth
in trade to myself and my brothers here on Montrouge.”

It took Lara everything
she had to hold her emotions in check.  She cleared her throat and spoke with
just the smallest break to her otherwise emotionless response.  “I would bring
more wealth to be traded back to my own people.  As the Honorable Lady Lara of
Heti and High Ambassador Tryne’s daughter, my people would welcome me back with
great generosity.”

It was impossible to read
a Maize because they did not have the emotional responses that Lara was trained
to read.  Nor were they an aggressive people who would welcome the soothing
presence of the Heti as many worlds did.  So it was not really a surprise when
he shook his head and bowed a shade deeper.  “The dishonored here are not
welcome in Alliance space.”  Then he motioned with great aplomb to the rest of
the slaves lined up and waiting at the door.  Most of them scared out of their
wits and some of them looking at her with suspicion and hate.  Lara sighed. 
She had expected nothing else, but it would have been nice to just once get
herself out of a jam without having to be rescued.

But she could think about
everything that led her here at another time.  For now, she raised her chin and
pulled Thaos to her side taking his hand in hers, and leading him regally to
the line of waiting slaves.  One good thing had come from this.  She knew where
she was.  Montrouge.  As far from her father’s influence as they were likely to
get.  The whip bearers were being more circumspect with their strikes at least,
and she had the chance to take in those around her while they led them with
less hostility out of the large cargo hold and down a long dark hallway.  She
looked down and found Thaos looking at her with big gold eyes, his coloring the
traditional dark of the Avian people.  Like her, his hair was black, and fell
down his back to his waist in a tangled mess.  Again, probably like her.  She
met his gold eyes with her own brown ones and smiled as best she could at his
gawking.

The other women, all
young and pretty from many different worlds, were giving her a wide berth.  But
Thaos looked at her as if she had done something more miraculous than simply
talking Maize so she shook off her worry and smiled at him.  “Everything will
work out.  You will see,” she said in Avian softly, smoothing his hair back
from the sharp planes of his face.  He was filthy, but then her ship tunic and
trousers had seen better days as well.  Her hair was still in the elaborate
braid but wisps had escaped to curl around her dirty face.  Somewhere along the
way they had taken her boots so she walked with bare feet across the cool metal
of the slave ship.  But she was still better off than many of the women who
wore the traditional wispy shift that denoted their pleasure slave status. 
They might as well have been naked and the fear and adrenaline spikes did not
help with the cold confines of the cargo bay.  Not that they seemed to notice,
if the hollow eyes and blank faces were any indication; they had long past
reached whatever limit their psyche could tolerate.  Many had checked out and
were now as good as automatons walking the halls.  It was almost worse than the
weeping and fearful ones who looked to collapse at any moment.

Lara sucked in a breath
and did her best not to show her emotional reaction to that pain, or the fear
that clung like a heavy cloak over everyone.  Holding in her emotions was not
her strong suit and the urge to try and help the poor souls surrounding her was
an almost physical ache in her bones, but the Maize were watching, and while
she could be foolish upon occasion she was no fool.  She had managed to garner
the respect of her captors.  If she kept it, she might have a chance to get out
of this, and maybe help a few others along the way.  For her captors, emotions equaled
weakness.  The crying, begging, and pleading would only get you worse treatment
in their care.  If she got a chance, she would explain to the others and hope
they listened.  In the meantime, the best thing she could do for them was show
absolutely nothing of her reactions to their plight. 

A golden-haired Forelian
girl, barely out of her youth, tripped and cried out in fear ducking her head when
a Maize came close.  As the whip fell from the disgusted captor, it was all
Lara could do to keep her eyes front and not react.  The more the girl cried
and pleaded, the more the Maize whipped her.  Meanwhile, the line was moving
around her mulling form, some girls looking away with horror and fear as the flaying
energy whips induced screams from the one on the floor, nearly stopping
themselves.  Others almost ran trying to get away from the beating.  Lara moved
at a steady pace trying to keep the others behind her from bolting or stopping
in their own terror.  Instead, when she came to the now piteously moaning
Forelian she reached down to lift her. 

She felt the lash of the
energy whip against her arm and side, and even one across her cheek when she
bent too close, but did her best not to react to the screaming nerves where it
struck.  The weapons did not leave marks but that somehow did not make the pain
easier to bear.  It took everything Lara had not to scream from the lingering
nerve pain that felt as if she was cut open.  Instead, she hefted the slight,
nearly mindless female into her arms with gritted teeth as the strikes
stopped.  She was not exactly strong, even for a woman, but she hoped she was
faking it well enough to pull this off.  It would have been smarter to walk
sedately around the beating like she did not see it, but she couldn’t do it. 
Hopefully she would not pay a higher price for what Nori called her bleeding
heart than the pain that echoed through her arm, side, and face.

Dorcet and the rest of
the Maize were looking at her and she did her best to respectfully bow her
head, very careful not to show either the pain of the strike or the emotions
behind the act.  Any moment, she expected to feel the lash again; then she was passed.
Forelians were thin and airy beings and the woman-child was smaller than most,
but Lara was getting heavier with each step she took.  Her arms were shaking by
the time they walked off the ship and onto a gangplank.  After that, she had
her first view of the Montrouge slave markets and had another reason to shake. 
Suddenly, that dirty little planet she and Nori had visited with the stinky
geysers and all the biting slugs lost its place as her least favorite planet to
explore.

***

“This place is a cesspit,”
Tolan muttered, taking in the bustling and dirty spaceport of Montrouge.

Barnos grunted his
agreement.  It was not the nearly oxygen-depleted air or the atmosphere
processors that chugged away, pumping stale O2 and incessant noise into the
bustling dirt brown streets that brought out his disgust.  Nor the crumbling structures
or rusting cargo pods used as everything from homes to market stalls.  Frankly,
he had seen worse.  And the unwashed masses, the weak that scuttled out of the
way, cutthroats and criminals that eyed them up as possible prey and then moved
on when they got a look at them were nothing new. But the smell; there seemed
to be no escaping the smell of too many unwashed bodies, pain and desperation
in the air they breathed.  For Tolan Lark’s sensitive nose, it had to be ten
times worse, and it was pretty damn bad to begin with.

“Yes, well,” Barnos
muttered, a look of disgust on his own face.  “We aren’t here to build a summer
home.  I need to find the contact Lucan set up for us and then we can move to
the other side of the planet where the girl is more likely to be found.  These
are, for lack of a better word, the dregs.”

“Been here often, have
you?” Tolan asked with some disgust, shooing away a vacant-eyed beggar before
he could get near enough to try and pick his pocket.  Not that he was going to
find anything but nanite and steal on Tolan Lark.  But then by the look of him
he was a couple of sparks shy of an energy cell anyway. 

“How often is too often? 
But if you want to share girly confidences this is my first time,” Barnos
finished with a mutter, “which is still too often.”  He flashed cold eyes at a
punk sizing them and their fortune in weapons up. 

Tolan Lark growled and bared
sharper than normal teeth at his own would-be assailant.  The show of fangs had
the kid falling down.  He couldn’t get away fast enough.

“Thought you kept your
inner kitty a secret?” Barnos asked with a chuckle watching the boy disappear
back into the shadows he came from.

“Not here.  I’d rather
not have to kill anyone.” He thought about his statement and then amended it
with a snarl.  “I’d rather not kill anyone until we find whoever has Lara.”

“Right,” Barnos muttered,
“this is it.”

“This is it?” Tolan asked
incredulously, studying the badly rusted numbers on the side of the pod, along
with the billowing flag that proclaimed its purpose.

Barnos snorted.  “Be
happy it’s not a flesh house.”  But he could not hold back his own grimace when
they walked inside the dark confines of the dilapidated shuttle turned stall. 
The place was dark and inundated with wispy fabric floating from every surface
and dropping down from the ceiling to give it a mysterious air.  Apparently,
the contact on Montrouge was a reader of fortunes.  In the slums of the worst
planet in the known galaxy.  Talk about a shite job.

“Well, we can’t all be
pirates, now can we?”  The scratchy voice speaking ship standard came out of
the longer shadows followed by the ponderous steps of an old hag.  A blind old
hag Barnos amended in his head, nearly snorting aloud at the ridiculous drama
of it. 
Was she even blind or was this more atmosphere?

“Yes, I’m really blind
you
Henka prat!
”

Barnos raised a brow
ignoring the insult.  Quite frankly, you listened to a man’s head you took what
came of it.  “A blind seer and reader?” he asked, amused by her obvious anger.