Starkissed. Part 22

At first he thought she must have sensed the terrible ache in his chest. Then he realized she meant the throbbing of his injury. The intensity of his search had driven everything from his mind except his desire to find Leith safe. During his search, he had twisted his limb again and now he was aware of pain rolling in burning waves to his hip.

He had never felt more useless in his life.

Servitor Nura listened intently as the watcher relayed information in the liquid tones of Artilian. Nura fired off orders and the watcher disappeared.

"Please come with me, Warrior. Until the watchers have gathered information, there is nothing either of us can do."

J'Qhir nodded his a.s.sent.

As Nura led him through the door, M'bat'h barged down the corridor. "Where are you going?"

J'Qhir refused to show disrespect by speaking Zi in front of one who did not know the language.

"I am going with Ssservitor Nura," he said in Terran Standard. "I will return when Msss McClure ha.s.ss been found."

He bowed stiffly and followed Nura through the door.

Chapter 15.

J'Qhir propped his leg upon a stool and absently ma.s.saged his swollen knee. Nura, as she insisted he call her, left him in her chambers while she attended to matters. One matter, he noted as he watched the large viewer mounted on the wall, was explaining to the a.s.sembly in the Hall that the conference had been delayed indefinitely for reasons she could not divulge at this time. No one was allowed to leave or enter the building or grounds until further notice. He muted the sound.

The Biian monk. If not for the monk, everyone would think Leith had wandered off somewhere to be alone. Garrison had said the media reporters upset her. He had sensed her unease when their images had been recorded earlier.

At that time, she had called him Commander. He approved of the way she kept formality between them in the presence of others. It was the Zi way. He didn't completely understand why she used Commander when she knew it was not his t.i.tle. Perhaps she had used it for so long prior to their use of birth names, that it slipped out before she thought. He could tell she was nervous and upset. He tried to be as supportive as he could, but there were too many others surrounding them, waiting to pounce-the Council as well as the reporters.

He should have spoken to her sooner, but he had never found an appropriate time. Others were always near during their rescue and onboard the small s.h.i.+p. When they landed on Artilia, Leith and he had been taken to the medical facility immediately. He had refused treatment other than a mild medication to suppress pain. Leith remained behind, but he had been sent to a guesthouse.

Good food, a comfortable bed, and the medicine put him to sleep until Rohm'dh awakened him late the next day. The Council had arrived with orders for them to report to the s.h.i.+p at once. He would have ignored the command anyway, unwilling to leave without speaking to Leith, but his injury had worsened so that he could not walk without excruciating pain. Instead, he allowed them to transfer him to the medical facility.

When he declined surgery, the technician injected him with other medication and suggested he stay off his feet a few days if he wanted to be ambulatory for the conference. He readily complied because it would delay a meeting with the Council.

At his release, only a few hours before the conference, a technician had given him a syringe containing a powerful pain suppressant to be used if the pain became unbearable. Injected directly into the knee, the drug would alleviate the pain for a standard hour, long enough for him to reach the medical facility. Although one thoughtless twist then another had aggravated the pain, it hadn't intensified enough to use the syringe yet.

He watched images flash across the wall viewer. Somehow he and Leith had been thrust into the roles of heroes. How that came about, he did not know. He had never felt like a hero at any point in his life, now least of all. Once again he had failed Leith and could not atone for the failure. He had promised her that he would never perform the ritual of failure and he would keep that promise.

The picture he and Leith posed for caught his attention. If only he could go back to that moment. Rewriting history, he would resist the Elders leading him away. He would never have let Leith go. He would have asked her the question he had asked several times before, but this time he would explain the meaning. He would hold his breath until she gave her answer. The Biian monk would never have come near her.

The Biian monk was not a real Biian monk. Whoever he was, he used the cowled robes to s.h.i.+eld his true ident.i.ty. If J'Qhir had not known Hanc.o.c.k died in the destruction of the Brimstone, he would be the logical choice. If not Hanc.o.c.k then one of the others, who had helped him with his plans, carried out the vendetta.

Apparently, the reporters were mystified by the latest developments. In order to keep their viewers from switching channels, they replayed earlier transmissions.

J'Qhir grimaced as he watched himself limp clumsily into the Hall. He followed along behind the Council of Elders in the manner of a trained pet. The Elders refused to speak with the reporters, and J' Qhir, taking their lead, shook his head. With nothing to gain from the stoic Zi, they moved on.

Other amba.s.sadors from other worlds, members of the Galactic Alliance Board, entered. Some preened before the cams, some spoke hesitantly, and others were as unresponsive as he and the Council had been.

Then Leith entered the Hall. She nervously twisted her hands in the delicate material of her silvery tunic. She kept her head bowed so that her l.u.s.trous hair fell over her shoulders and hid her features. He craved the full sight of them and was rewarded when she stopped and turned slightly to greet Garrison with a fond smile. Her head dipped close to his and her lips moved.

Garrison slipped an arm around her protectively and something snapped and spasmed in J'Qhir's chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. Once again, he rewrote history. He should have been there to meet her, not Garrison. He should have protected her from the reporters.

Instead, he had allowed the Council to intimidate him, to make him think that at this point in time his relations.h.i.+p with Leith was not his most important concern. How could he have allowed his duty and obligation to cloud his judgment? The conference would go on without him. Zi would survive without him, if need be. He would survive without the t.i.tle of Warrior. He didn't think he would survive without Leith.

Why could he not still be stranded on Paradise with Leith where life was much simpler?

No...he would not rewrite the history of their rescue even if he could, but he didn't completely understand why returning to civilization complicated everything.

His eyes flicked toward the images on the wall viewer. Now there were scenes of the crowded Hall, and he searched for another glimpse of her. When he saw himself hobble across the room, he knew she had already gone into the privacy room. He picked up the pad, to find another channel that showed earlier scenes.

Before he could key the pad, the scene cut off abruptly. A female reporter stood outside the Great Hall, a brisk breeze ruffling her pale yellow hair. She spoke frantically to the cam. J'Qhir fumbled with the pad and finally found the mute b.u.t.ton.

"...of the Artilian government has given no official word on who the jumpers are or what they hope to accomplish at this time. It has been speculated that it is a protest against admitting Zi and Crux into the Galactic Alliance. Yet, no one offers any explanation why Biian monks would be against-"

J'Qhir lurched to his feet. Having forgotten his knee, the joint gave way and he crashed to the floor. The thick, soft carpeting did little to cus.h.i.+on his fall. A supernova of pain exploded underneath his kneecap and he almost blacked out. He lay on his side and cradled his leg, clenching his teeth. He tried to focus on the wall viewer, but his eyes refused to adjust.

"...not a Biian monk at all. Leith McClure, heir to Earth-based McClure s.h.i.+pping, is being held hostage. No one has identified the kidnapper..."

He shook his head and concentrated on the wall viewer. A cam panned up the face of the building and zoomed in on one of the figures. Dressed in monk's robes, the cowl fallen away, her long brown hair fluttered in the stiff wind.

"Leith..." he moaned.

In a blinding haze, he reached into his pocket for the syringe. He flicked the cap off and jammed the end against the side of his knee. The pain quickly eased until he felt nothing. The cessation of pain did not lure him from his purpose.

A standard hour was more than enough time to kill whomever had dared touch Leith.

Wispy lavender clouds drifted lazily across the deep violet night sky as Leith peered through the opening of the domed roof of the Great Hall. Five of the seven small moons of Artilia, visible in various lunar phases, cast enough light to see clearly.

Steve had moved them ever upward through the complex until he at last found the utility stairway to the roof hatch. Leith hadn't been able to prod him into telling her what he planned. All of her questions had been answered with silence. The only time he spoke was to snap orders when she slowed or hesitated.

Now, Steve roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her through the hatch. She fell to her hands and knees on the coa.r.s.e roofing as he slammed the cover shut. Leith sat back on her heels and watched him aim the Blaser. He fired off a series of short bursts, completely sealing the hatch cover and latch.

"That should get someone's attention," he said and strode to the edge where the dome curved away.

Leith carefully stood. "What are we doing up here?"

When he didn't answer, Leith looked around the flat apex of the circular roof. On two sides, the dome dropped about seven meters to flat roofs covering the wings of the Great Hall. At the other two sides, the front entrance and the rear of the complex, there was an additional fifteen-meter drop. Leith might survive a tumble to one of the flat roofs, but she would die-and her child with her-if she fell toward the front or rear.

Then she noticed the maintenance ladders, no more than rungs constructed to blend in with the corrugated roof design, leading off in the four directions down the slope of the dome. Leith glanced at Steve, but he was still searching for signs that the Blaser blasts had drawn attention.

Leith gathered up the long robe. As she took a step, one of her flimsy sandals caught on the gritty roofing and sent her sprawling. She put out her arms and landed hard, her hands sc.r.a.ping across the roof. The sudden jolt of pain brought tears to her eyes and made her cry out, but she crawled toward the edge. She had just reached for the top rung when Steve grasped her from behind and slung her back toward the center.

"Not that easy," he sneered and aimed the Blaser at her.

Leith searched for a way to stop him or at least delay him until help could arrive. They would have to either force the hatch open or come from one of the other roofs by way of the ladders. Either way Steve would hear and see them. It would give him time to do whatever he planned to do.

"What do you want, Steve?" Leith repeated the question she had asked him the last time he held her at Blaserpoint.

"Right now, I just want it to end, but not without a show for them." He angled the Blaser to the front of the building.

"It doesn't have to be this way. It's not too late if you stop now." Leith spoke the cliched words, but she had no hope they would sway him.

"It's been too late for a while. There's Carter, Wiley, and Phillips. I caused all their deaths. And the two Biian monks whose robes we wear. They're dead. One more doesn't matter. Two more, counting the child you carry." He pulled her to her feet and forced her to the edge, his arm tight around her middle. "They can execute me as easily for seven as for five. Or give me life in a penal colony and I'd rather die. This way, I make sure I die."

Leith's cowl had fallen back and she raked the hair out of her eyes. She looked down into the wide expanse of front lawns and parking areas. A crowd had gathered, many of them media reporters. She couldn't distinguish anyone in particular at this distance, but she could see the ones with arms raised, focusing their cams. They would be able to hear everything as well as see them as if they were only a few paces away. By law, they couldn't transmit the audio portion of what they recorded. A group of Arcs, several larger than any she had seen and almost as tall as the building minus the dome roof, glistened in the pale moonlight.

Was J'Qhir in the crowd? Or somewhere inside watching them on a viewer? Did he still feel it was his duty to protect her? She hoped not. Steve would kill him instantly if he somehow made it onto the roof.

"Why do you have to take me with you?" Asking questions should prolong his final action. "I never encouraged you, Steve. I never-"

"I know!" he snapped. "You never. You never had any interest in McClure s.h.i.+pping, but when Cameron became ill he chose you to take his place. You never had a clue, but I had to answer to you."

"That's not my fault, Steve. That was Dad's decision."

"You could have turned it down."

"How could I?" Leith cried out. "He asked me to do it. How could I tell him no again? I had told him no so many times before. I never considered myself in charge, Steve. I never would have managed if not for you."

"It's too late for that," he growled into her ear. "Too late for everything. I didn't fall in love with you, Leith, but you and me-Cameron's daughter and his protege-couldn't have been more perfect. It would have secured my future at McClure s.h.i.+pping, only you wouldn't go along."

"Why couldn't you be happy the way things were?" Leith shot back. "Dad let you run the company the way you wanted-"

"No, he didn't."

A loud pop sounded behind them, and Steve turned.

"They're breaking through the hatch!" Leith allowed a small glimmer of hope to fill her. If she could keep him distracted a little longer. "They're almost here, Steve. Please throw away the Blaser."

Instead he aimed the Blaser at the hatch and resealed the cracks with short bursts.

"The metal won't hold much longer," he observed, then turned back to face the crowd with Leith. "Cameron shot down every suggestion I ever made to expand McClure s.h.i.+pping. We should have had an office and fleet of s.h.i.+ps on every major planet in the galaxy, but Cameron wouldn't hear of it. He wanted to keep the company small. He didn't want it to get bigger than one or two could manage. Cameron has no vision."

Steve had let the Blaser drift away from her and, without planning the move, she lunged for it. Steve jerked back and she fell into his arm. The force knocked the weapon from his hand. They teetered on the edge as it clattered down the side of the dome, disappearing over the far edge.

Steve pulled them back at the last moment. "You know," he said, and she could feel him shaking against her. "All I ever wanted was to be part of your family. I thought if I could do that then Cameron would take me seriously."

Leith tried to wriggle free as he wrapped both arms around her, but he held her tightly and she couldn't move. Where there's life, there's hope. As long as she was alive, there was always a chance. Leith clung to the thought like a lifeline. She heard another loud sound from the hatch. They could break through at any moment before Steve made them jump. If only she could keep him talking.

"What were your plans for McClure-" She broke off when she heard the intense hiss, and Steve was yanked backward. Instinctively, she pulled away from Steve who held her a moment longer. With a feral growl, he suddenly released her. The rebound sent her over the edge and she turned, trying to gain her footing. Once again the sandal caught, tripping her, and she dropped to the dome side on her stomach. She hardly dared to breathe to keep from sliding down the curvature.

J'Qhir stood, his arms around Steve the same way Steve had held her. J'Qhir's amber eyes widened as he realized her precarious position. When Steve brought his leg up, Leith knew his intention.

"J'Qhir!" she screamed out in warning, but he didn't have time to react before Steve drove his heel back into J'Qhir's injured knee. J'Qhir roared in pain and broke the hold. Steve turned and kicked J' Qhir's knee again.

The effort of shouting sent Leith sliding down the side of the dome. She spread her limbs to slow her slide, but each movement made her descend faster until her feet were dangling over the bottom edge of the dome. The robe caught on an uneven edge and she stopped momentarily. The maintenance ladders were too far away and any movement to reach them would send her plummeting to her death. If she could stay where she was until J'Qhir subdued Steve once and for all, she would be safe. Leith had no doubt about the outcome. J'Qhir would succeed.

Leith's gaze was riveted to the top of the dome, expecting J'Qhir to appear any moment. Instead, both appeared, each with a hold on the other. J'Qhir's face twisted in agony, but he did not lessen his grip as Steve once more struck his knee.

Twice more Steve managed to drive his foot into J'Qhir's knee and finally J'Qhir collapsed, landing on his good knee, the other leg turned out to the side at an unnatural angle. Steve prepared for one final blow to send J'Qhir to his death, but just as Steve's foot connected, J'Qhir threw himself into Steve and both went over the edge.

Horrified, Leith reached for J'Qhir although she knew it was impossible to save him. She heard the material rip and felt it give. All three sailed from the roof at the same time, and Steve's scream rent the air but ended abruptly.

Leith closed her eyes. She expected her life to flash across her mind's eye. She also expected fear to kill her before she could hit the ground. Neither happened. Calm flowed through her as she floated downward as light as a feather. She felt something soft and warm and pliable beneath her aching fingers, and it coc.o.o.ned her whole body. She slipped ever downward, the soft shroud moving with her until she at last gently spilled onto the carpet of gra.s.s.

When Leith opened her eyes, a wild-eyed group of spectators, many with cams recording her undignified sprawl, formed a wide circle around her. Drew broke through the ranks with Nura just behind.

"Leith, are you hurt?" Drew knelt on one side of her as Nura moved to the other. Nura spoke quietly into the communicator at her chest and issued orders before dropping beside Leith.

"No, I-I don't think so." Now that she was safe and still, she could feel all the aches and pains from her ordeal. Her hands stung, and she looked down at the raw and bleeding sc.r.a.pes from heel to fingertip.

"J'Qhir!" she cried out and tried to rise. Drew and Nura held her down, and she didn't have the strength to fight them.

"He's fine," Nura said softly.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "He survived the fall the same way you did. The Arcs."

A team of watchers arrived and started breaking up the crowd. They allowed a med unit through.

"And Steve?"

"Steve's dead. For real, this time," Drew said with no regret.

As the med unit started to prepare the anti-grav stretcher, Leith protested. "I don't need-"

"Let them take you in, away from everyone," Nura suggested. "It will be easier this way."

Leith nodded reluctantly.

Inside, meds bandaged her hands and tended the other minor lacerations she'd received. She asked Drew to contact her parents and let them know everything was fine. Soon, she was in a change of clean clothes and settled in Nura's office, a cup of hot Terran cocoa in her hands.

Her hands were covered in skinseal and felt clumsy. Carefully, she lifted the handleless cup to her mouth and sipped. "How is J'Qhir?"

Nura sat beside her on the sofa and sipped her own cocoa. "The meds have him sedated while they work on his knee. The joint is shattered."

Leith frowned and set the cup aside. She had seen J'Qhir in terrible pain from just walking, it must have been unbearable when Steve continued attacking that one spot.

"They will do what they can, of course, to mend the injury and relieve his discomfort when he awakens. The Council has refused to agree to replacement surgery which the meds recommend. Without it, he will never be completely well. But of course, J'Qhir can make that decision later."

Leith nodded. "When can I see him?"

"After surgery. You can be with him a short time without the Council's knowledge, but he won't be conscious."

Leith leaned back against the soft pillow. "What happened out there?"