Morgan's Return (5 page)

The crowd tittered.

"We're foreign. We're on our way back to our ship. We just want to find our way to the space port." Ravindra felt, rather than saw, Morgan look up at him, and he grasped her arm in a grip she wouldn't be able to shift. Sometimes she was a complete and absolute idiot.

The man with the metal bar spat deliberately on the ground, his eyes on Ravindra's face. The crowd around them was growing. This was degenerating into a mob. Judging by the lowered brows and tense expressions, they wouldn't get any help here. Time to take charge.

"We'll be on our way." Ravindra strode forward, dragging Morgan with him, thrusting between the bodies pressed around him. He stumbled on a broken slab. And there was Metal Bar, his teeth bared like a snarling dog, the bar hefted in his hand.

Ravindra snatched the weapon before his attacker had finished the step. "I think you'd better go. Don't you?"

The look of surprise faded from the man's eyes, replaced with red-faced rage. "Yeah? Yer big, but ya can't beat us all. Get them." He lunged forward.

Ravindra dodged, tripped him and flattened him with a blow to the back with the iron bar. Somebody shoved him in the back. He swung around and floored the thug with a punch to the jaw while he rammed the metal bar into the gut of another. "We can't afford this. Prasad, get her out of here."

But Prasad had his hands full, twisting the knife out of a second boy's hands, followed up with a push that sent the lad cannoning into some of the spectators. The shouts merged into a roar, a many-headed monster looking to maim and gouge. Ravindra picked up the next attacker, and tossed him at a new group of attackers, who fell into a struggling heap.

The throb of an approaching engine drowned out the wail of a siren. The crowd not immediately involved in the fight scattered. Authority was the last thing they needed. Ravindra picked Morgan up, threw her over his shoulder and ran.

Chapter 3
 

R
avindra dodged down the nearest alley, a noisome tunnel between the buildings. Judging by the stink, it was commonly used as a toilet. Morgan had stopped struggling while he ran, but now she wriggled. "Put me down," she hissed. "I'm not a sack of taters."

Swallowing the snort, he set her back on her feet, eyeing the entrance, looking for Prasad or the police. Prasad had been right behind him. Ravindra's stomach muscles clenched. Prasad was as close to a friend as any man he knew. If they lost him, it would be all her fault. Sometimes her stupidity defied belief.

Morgan's voice was a whisper behind him. "If we go down here, we should be able to get back to a main road, and around to the space port."

"We're waiting for Prasad."

"Of course we are," she snapped.

Anger raged into his gut. He'd give her annoyed. He glared at her over his shoulder. "What possessed you? The last thing we can afford is a run-in with the authorities."

She glared back at him. "I hate seeing innocent people being beaten up by bullies."

"Innocent? She was a prostitute trying to steal the rest of his money."

"Maybe. So why was she a prostitute?"

Did she really expect to take on the social system on a planet they were just passing through?

She pursed her lips. "Okay, I'm sorry." She certainly didn't look sorry, her eyes like slits. "Just don't treat me like a little kid or a… a sack of taters."

Outside in the street, the mob roared. Sirens wailed, voices shouted, footsteps thudded past. Ravindra's heart pounded. Somebody would be looking down here very soon, and then it would be run, or act the innocent. A figure slipped into the alley. Ravindra pressed back against the wall, ready to strike. Prasad. Ravindra sighed with relief.

"Okay?" Ravindra asked.

Prasad brushed his hand down his sleeve. "Filthy, bruised, but a lot better than the fellows who attacked me."

Weren't they all? "Morgan has a way out. Hurry."

Ravindra followed Morgan, jogging along between the slimy walls. This place stank so badly, his eyes were watering. His foot slipped as he stepped in something. Behind them, the racket became a muted hubbub.

"Slow down," Ravindra said when they had turned a corner. He didn't add the rest; they would both realize that running would be seen as guilt—although running would get them out of this stinking warren faster. Their footfalls, little more than a rustle or a squelch, disappeared as if swallowed up by the fetid fog surrounding them.

They turned a corner. Finally. Ravindra's spirits soared. Daylight straight ahead. Three blocks away, the space port's glowing lights beckoned.

"Let's hope Captain Davaskar has finished the replenishment." Prasad rubbed his face, and scowled at his filthy fingers. "I have no desire to hang around here any longer than we have to."

"Agreed." Ravindra glanced at Morgan, walking uncharacteristically quietly beside him. If she thought he was finished with her, she could think again.

Inside the space port, the overhead news screens showed views of a riot in the city, gangs of youths brawling. Three people were confirmed dead. Police were in attendance, and dozens of people had been arrested.

Ravindra's steward, Tullamarran, came to greet them as they entered the ship, his nose wrinkling.

"I know, Tullamarran," Ravindra said. "We all stink. This planet stinks. Get me new clothes, will you? You can probably destroy these."

***

E
llen Cruickshank closed the door to her temporary quarters and sank onto the sofa. Just a couple more days of testing, and she could go home to Torreno. Sometimes Fleet did crazy things. The new Firebrand fighters had been rushed into deployment, and she'd had to come to this ghastly planet to ensure the computer systems were running as they should. The work could have, should have, been done in the ship yards off Torreno. Inefficient, incompetent idiots.

She gazed around the room, at blank walls, worn carpet and shabby furniture. The whole damn planet was like that; over-used and showing the effects. She couldn't wait to get out of here, back to her apartment and Tom.

Sighing, she crossed over to the kitchen and poured herself a drink. Might as well watch the news, she thought. Her implant connected with the room's data port to switch on the set. A screen cleared on the far wall.

Even the news was predictable. She sagged back onto the couch, sipping at her wine. There'd been a brawl in the city, in one of the horrible slum areas, the locals versus newly-arrived immigrants from Solvaria. The police chief, a paunchy man with a luxuriant mustache, crowed over the arrest of a few of the ring-leaders. Never local, of course; they were terrorist infiltrators from Solvaria. It wouldn't be long before the two planets were involved in an out-and-out war. Then again, that's what the Coalition Government thought, too, which was why the Firebrands had been deployed here. Solvaria couldn't hope to win a conflict, but desperate people try desperate actions. Makasa had explained the politics before he sent her to Iniciara.

The news report zeroed in on a segment of the crowd, while the local Chief of Police provided commentary.

"This man, Confid Lesak, was identified on our surveillance cameras. You can see him here, starting the fight." The police chief pointed a pudgy finger at a man wielding an iron bar. The man he attacked disarmed him, and then the mob became a many-headed monster, howling for blood. The footage didn't linger, moving on to another of the terrorists, who'd been in the crowd as well.

Ellen straightened up. This fellow Lesak had been disarmed easily. Impressive. She'd like to see more of the fight. She scrolled back the footage in the newscast but they'd only used a brief snippet. Still, they must have based it on surveillance footage which presumably they'd have in the Iniciara intelligence system. Grinning, she put her empty glass back on the table. This could be fun.

The connection to the room's data port became a cyber highway, filled with a stream of data packets. Surfing the lines to the military base's servers, she found the connection to the intelligence system. The security slowed her down for a few minutes, long enough to find the record of someone on the base with sufficient clearance to access the data. It was easy enough for her to impersonate one of the officers for a few minutes; he'd never know his identity had been borrowed. Besides, daily surveillance footage was hardly top secret.

She scrolled through the list of cameras, looking for the identifiers from the newscast shots. Ah. Brigalow Street, not far from the university. The busy street appeared before her, almost as if it was real, but thankfully without the smell. Like most streets in this city, it was crowded, wending its way between the horrible apartment blocks where the poor people lived. A rare autocab passed overhead.

For a few minutes, nothing happened except the usual ebb and flow of people and pushcarts. Here was something different. A woman ran out of a doorway, a man in hot pursuit. The man caught up with her, swung her around, and hit her hard enough to throw her to the ground. Oh, that was awful. The fellow was twice her size. Ellen hated bullies. She stopped the action and zoomed in to check if this fellow was Lesak. No match. Another woman stepped in. The man with her tried to pull her away. Someone else carrying a metal bar intervened, attacking the second man.

This was it. The man with the metal bar was Lesak. Ellen ran the action again in slow motion. That second man was incredibly fast. And strong. He flattened two attackers without even trying.

Ellen stopped the movement and focused on him. Wow. What speed. He'd snatched the bar out of the air so fast, the motion was nearly invisible. What a hunk. Ellen squirmed in her seat, a familiar tingle in her groin. Now there was a man she could fancy. A strong face, almost arrogant, with compelling dark eyes, finely chiseled lips. His face had too many hard planes for him to be considered handsome, but what a body. She recorded every angle so she could add him to her private file of gorgeous men. Oh man. What would he look like with his shirt off? Her mouth positively watered. Not young, but lean and hard. He wore his hair short at the top and sides, but long at the back, tied neatly in place with an ornate silver clasp. She zoomed in on the clasp and admired the intricate workmanship, something like a dragon. As she zoomed out again, she glanced at his female companion.

Ellen froze.
No. Oh,
no. It couldn't be
.

Her heart thundered. Selwood. Morgan bloody-damn-her-eyes Selwood. Ellen focused on the figure. Right hair, right build. Eyes. Blue eyes. Selwood never covered her eyes. They looked like mercury, silver and unreadable. People said it was a fault when Selwood was created, she could have used contacts, but she never did. Silver eyes. The man lifted the woman as if she was a doll, flung her over his shoulder, and ran off. The adrenalin drained, leaving Ellen trembling. Selwood wouldn't have put up with that, not for a moment.

Ellen disconnected from the data port, leaning back against a musty sofa in a borrowed apartment, her eyes closed, while her mind returned to its human state. Her heart rate slowed. Maybe she was mistaken. Selwood had disappeared somewhere near the Calisto's Veil Nebula nearly two years ago. They said everybody had a double. Perhaps Selwood had a double on Iniciara. That must be it; it had to be.

She blew out a breath.
Settle, Ellen
. Selwood was gone. Hopefully dead. But she might just take away some of those images and check them a bit further. The last thing she wanted was Selwood coming back to complicate her life.

***

M
organ stepped out of the washroom. Ravindra was waiting for her, stern, his arms folded over his chest. Without the contacts, his eyes would have glittered. She turned her back on him, opened a drawer, and took out clean clothes.

"I've seen you pull some stupid stunts, but that was… unbelievable. What would have happened if we'd lost Prasad? Been arrested ourselves? Been injured? All because of a fight between a prostitute, and a disgruntled punter." His deep voice rumbled like a distant thunderstorm. Boy, he sure was angry.

"I said I was sorry," she said, pulling on underwear.

He crossed the distance between them in a stride. Gripping her chin, he forced her to look at him. "We are aliens, Morgan. Remember how it felt when you were an alien? Remember what I did to you? What I had to do?"

She glared at him. He was right, but she'd already said she was sorry. What more could he want? "You hit me. I had finger marks on my face."

Tossing his head, Ravindra let go of her. "That was nothing. Just a slap. For a Manesai woman it was little more than a tap. How was I to know you're fragile?"

Ravindra's 'tap' had knocked her to the floor in the detention cell on his flagship. He'd never offered an apology, she'd never expected one, but it was nice to know he was almost embarrassed. One for her. Morgan tucked her shirt into her pants. "All right, it was stupid. I just don't like seeing women being beaten around. She's probably a prostitute because it's the only work she can get."

Sighing, he shook his head. "You can't right the wrongs of every world. We're here to find out where my people came from. Kindly remember that."

Morgan stared at him for a long moment, then placed a fist on her breast and bowed her head. "
Srimana
." If he wanted to play admirals, she could play subordinates. Only he'd know she was playing.