Catwalk

The Garrison Book Three

CATWALK By

Angela Verdenius Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.net

Triskelion Publishing 15327 W. Becker Lane Surprise, AZ 85379 Copyright 2006 Angela Verdenius

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher except, where permitted by law. ISBN 1-933874-50-3 Publisher’s Note. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to a person or persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

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The Garrison: Catwalk

Chapter one Zurin Five Penitentiary, Andromeda Galaxy, 3033C.E. Underground Level Six, The Garrison Gymnasium With ease, Lucia Isles raised the heavy dumbbell above her head. Her movements were slow and smooth, just as they were meant to be. Perspiration sheened her skin. Her mind, however, was on anything but the weights she was lifting. Instead, her thoughts were on a certain member of the penitentiary guards. Thrower. What an absolute corker. His voice carried down the corridor, and he didn’t sound happy. The words ‘cheating card shark” and ‘con artist’ were loud and clear. Jonathon Thrower was not a happy man. So what else is new? And what the hell is his problem? “I should have known better than to play poker with you, Amanii!” Thrower was snarling to the Banoi guard. “You almost cleaned me out of all my bennies!” “Ah, what do you need them for here anyway, friend?” Amani’s deep, easy tone carried clearly through the corridor. “It’s not as though you can buy things down here.” “Shit!” Thrower swore. He was a hot-tempered bastard, she’d realized not long after she’d met him just twenty short days ago, at the beginning of their Tour at the prison. Arrogant and provoking, the man needed his teeth pulled, and if he kept going the way he was, she was going to be the one to do it. Everyone thought she was cute, but they didn’t know that her half Banoi side gave her the strength to almost pummel them to death. Thrower needed a bloody good pummeling. And speaking of the devil, here he comes. One brow raised in ironic amusement, Lucia watched as Thrower came stalking through the door. His thick, dark brown hair cut military short, just the way it would have been worn back when he was still a soldier. Thick brows angled angrily down over dark brown eyes. That square jaw of his clenched tight. Yep, one happy guard. Not. Thrower barely spared her a glance before crossing to the big pool near the back wall. Stopping near the bench, he stripped off his shirt to show the very impressive six-pack of his abdomen, and his broad shoulders. Toeing off his boots, he yanked his pants down to reveal swimming trunks–oh look, ex-army issue. Surprise me some more–and then he stopped and contemplated the water. The swimming trunks revealed his muscular legs, and bared to plain view the mangled mess of flesh on his right thigh. Lucia knew he’d injured it during the Urban Battles on Andromeda, and it had also forced his retirement. At times it seemed to bother him, for she’d seen him limping several times. He must have been on good medicine, though, because she’d also noted when he’d disappear into his cabin and come almost bounding out within a half an hour. Taking a deep breath, Thrower dived cleanly into the water and commenced swimming laps.

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Lucia continued to pump iron, her thoughts drifting away, perfectly happy to have silence between them. It didn’t, however, last for long. Thrower swam six laps of the pool before pulling himself up onto the edge of it. Looking directly across at her, he drawled, “Like what you see?” “Pardon?” Blinking, she focused on Thrower. “You’ve been staring at me since I came in here.” “I might have been looking at you, Thrower, but I wasn’t seeing you.” Lowering the dumbbell, Lucia took a towel from the bench nearby and swiped at the sweat rolling down her temple. “No need to be shy, love.” He grinned at her. “No need to be conceited…love. Not everyone lusts after you.” “I’ve noticed you watching me.” Drawing one leg up under him, he pushed lithely to his feet. Lowering the towel, Lucia studied him coolly. “I’ve noticed your arrogance and your hot temper. Obviously I can add conceit to the growing list.” “My, you have been taking notice of all my endearing qualities.” He smiled mockingly. “Kind of hard not to, Thrower. You’re such a charmer.” “So, what are you doing after our Tour? Want me to meet you somewhere and charm the hell out of you?” Placing the dumbbells back into their holders, Lucia didn’t even spare him a glance. “So, what do you say, Isles? “I’ve better things to do with my time.” “Ouch.” He sounded amused. “Got a boyfriend?” Lucia started for the door. “Mind your business.” “Touchy, sweetheart. I could help you with your frustrations, you know.” Anger flickered through Lucia, and she swung around abruptly and strode across to where Thrower waited by the poolside with one brow arched arrogantly. Stopping directly in front of him, she asked in a deadly quiet voice, “Who’s your superior on this Tour?” The smirk left his face, and he straightened. “You are.” “Then give me the respect I demand of my position, Thrower.” “Ma’am.” Ramrod straight, Thrower looked like he was ready to salute her, but restrained himself. “Keep a civil tongue in your head,” Lucia continued in quietly. “Keep your mind on the job. Act like a jerk in your own time. While you’re on Tour, your time is as a guard. Keep acting like an ass, Thrower, and I’m going to kick it for you. Understand?” “Yes, Ma’am.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. The soldier in him reacted to her order, but the man inside him didn’t necessarily like it. But one thing about Thrower, he was honest to himself. He knew she was his superior, second-in-command to the captain, and he had to obey her orders. Life can be good. Restraining the grin that threatened to reveal itself, Lucia swung around and walked away sedately. Yep, life can be ruddy good. ***** Thrower scowled after the departing, luscious babe. Second-in-command, cute, and with an iron self-control he admired, Lucia Isles was his personal wet dream. A thick cloud of

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dark, wavy hair that just brushed her shoulders, a curvy figure that made a man’s tongue fall out of his head, elegantly arched brows over thickly-fringed, fierce cat-like eyes, and full lips that made his groin tingle…yep, she was one luscious babe. She was also a bitch at times. But hey, you couldn’t have everything. And he was turned on by her hardnosed and fearless attitude. It tickled him pink to provoke her and see how long it took to shake her calmness. He was one sick puppy. Anger trickling away, he grinned. Making his way to his own cabin, he felt the twinge in his leg and frowned. He needed a shot of Styx, but he didn’t have a lot left. He needed to get some more. Closing the door securely behind him, he didn’t take notice of the lavish furnishings. A soldier’s life was one of hardship, so the luxuries given to the guards didn’t mean a whole lot to him. A place to lay his head, shelter and food. They were his main priorities. And now he added Styx to that list of priorities as well. In fact, it rated pretty highly on the list. Glancing up at the camera that gave a view of his cabin to the Control room, Thrower leered at it. Rhonda Alendresis was on watch in there right now, and he just knew she wouldn’t watch while he went into the bathroom. Unlike the other guards, who had no problems with checking in to ensure security in all cabins, Rhonda was a little shyer. This was perfect, because it allowed him the time to get the drug and swallow it without risking anyone noticing the difference. Security was great, but sometimes it could be a real pain in the proverbial. Stripping off his swimming trunks, he showered quickly, then completed his ritual by filling a glass with water and taking down the little bottle of analgesia that the doctor had given him before he’d come on Tour. And what a quack that doctor had been, for the pills were as useless as tits on a bull. His leg still hurt like hell. However, Thrower had something much better mixed in with the pills. Styx. Humming to himself, he unscrewed the cap and tipped the pills into his palm. And scowled. Amongst the little red pills were two little pieces of Styx crystal. One little piece was enough to kill the pain for about ten hours. Bloody hell. I’ll have to check out the stash that hopefully Grinlin or Mertz have stored for me in the cleanbot. But he couldn’t go down tonight, that would bring suspicion. No, he’d have to go down in the morning on a ‘check’. Damn. Scowling, he swallowed down one piece of Styx crystal, got into bed naked, waved at the comscreen, and went to sleep. ***** Underground Level Six, The Garrison Quarters Pulling on the gray, one-piece uniform of the Penitentiary guards, Lucia grinned to herself. The material was a mix of stretch microfiber and kevlar, and protected the wearer against blades and bullets while remaining light and comfortable to wear. Phaser fire, however…well, that would penetrate even the best of armor. Rhonda, however, didn’t like the drabness of it, and Lucia had noticed how she tried to brighten it up with a colorful scarf.

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She’d also noticed how that irritated the hell out of Captain Riggeur as well. Stomping on the grey boots, Lucia chuckled. The camscreen suddenly flared to life. “Isles,” Rhonda said, her voice worried. Surprised, Lucia looked up at the screen. It wasn’t often Rhonda actually spoke to anyone in their cabins. “Yes?” “Something’s going on. Captain Riggeur wants everyone in the Control room for briefing.” Lucia nodded. “Right there.” Riggeur must have a good reason to wake the crew up. Wondering what had happened, Lucia left her cabin. She met Thrower in the corridor. Already dressed, he was just coming out of the cabin and was busy buckling his phaser belt around his waist. “Isles.” He nodded to her as they fell into step. “Did Rhonda fill you in on what’s happening?” “No. I presume we’ll know once in the Control room.” “Same here.” They entered the Control room at the same time as Nya and Amani. Captain Riggeur wasn’t yet present. Report.” Lucia looked from Rhonda to the monitors. “Where is everyone?” “That’s the problem.” Rhonda nodded towards the monitors. “It appears that there’s no one on the surface.” “No one?” “No civilians.” Lucia looked up at the high-vaulted ceiling to the Artificial Intelligence that ran the facility, regulated the life-support systems, and clothed and fed the hundred thousand prisoners detained at the facility at any given time. A sophisticated network of conduits allowed fully automated maintenance. Except for transfers and security emergencies, the prison required no human intervention. Skipper also supplied the civilian restaurants and the Garrison’s kitchen with high quality preserved ingredients. “Skipper, is there an emergency in the upper levels?” “All is as it should be, Miss Isles.” The annoyingly cheery voice of the A.I filled the room. “Nothing to report.” Rhonda grimaced. “Skipper told me the same thing.” Crossing to the monitors, Lucia saw that all the prisoners on the lower levels were secure with no apparent problems. Flicking some switches for the higher level prisoners, she did a complete scan of those levels as well, but again all was in order. Frowning slightly, Lucia did a check of the civilian sector, but there was no sign of life. “Captain Riggeur requests that I send some teams up to the surface to check what has happened,” Rhonda said. “Good, but first, Thrower, you check for any biohazards in the upper levels.” Tapping the keys on the keyboard, Thrower read the data that accompanied the digital image of the upper levels. “No sign of anything.”

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“Okay. Nya, Amani, Javel and Xerna, rug up and go top-side.” Lucia turned to look at them. “Be careful. Report back what you find.” They nodded and left, passing Raylor who was yawning and wandering leisurely into the control room. “What’s the rush?” he queried. “We appear to be the only people left on this planet, apart from the prisoners,” Thrower informed him. “Really?” Crossing to the monitors, Raylor squinted up at them. “What happened?” “That’s what we’re trying to find out.” Turning her back to the monitors, Lucia rested her hips against the bench and looked at the remaining guards. Silently she pursed her lips in thought. The guards looked back at her questioningly. Well, right now there was nothing to tell them that they didn’t already know. She was as much in the dark as they were. Captain Riggeur’s voice came through her external implant, the one all the guards had implanted at the base of the neck above the right collarbone. It was easily recognizable, as the thrum of blood flowing through the veins in the wearer’s neck could be heard faintly. “Control Room? Any trace of biohazard in the upper levels?” “No Captain,” Thrower replied. “Already checked.” “Any luck contacting the surface?” “No, Captain.” “Keep trying.” Lucia watched the door of the Control room, and Captain Cole Riggeur entered. Quietly she awaited his response and actions. He nodded to the guards and glanced up at the bank of monitors displaying various parts of the giant facility. Nothing looked amiss, except for the three screens showing the offices just above, between the Garrison and the frozen surface of Zurin Five. She’d seen exactly what he was now seeing. “Good morning, Captain Riggeur.” The A.I.’s synthetic voice sounded chirpy as usual. “Morning, Skipper.” Riggeur walked to the wrap-around console where Thrower and Raylor sat. “What did the systematic sweep turn up?” “Nothing, Captain.” Thrower replied. “No trace of any office employee or mining worker, not even in the engine room. Should we send a call for reinforcement off-world?” “Relax, Thrower. Let’s find out what we are dealing with. Maybe it’s nothing serious. How far are our guys up there?” “They’re still on Level Four. Found no one there. They’ve not reached the offices yet.” Lucia wasn’t surprised. For security reasons, stairs and elevators only linked two levels at a time. With each level entirely sealed off from the next, traveling up or down the many levels took time. She gave voice to a sudden thought. “Could they have been attacked from above by some disgruntled customers? No matter how you cut it, Styx is still an illegal drug in many sectors of this Galaxy. Duran has powerful enemies.” “It’s unlikely that they were attacked. We’d know if there had been a skirmish. There would be signs.”

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Thrower gave Lucia a sidelong glance. “The last ships to attack Zurin Five didn’t do so well. With the kind of weapons Duran has on the surface, even a whole fleet wouldn’t stand a chance to land on this rock.” “Skipper,” Riggeur addressed the A.I.’s main screen. “Did you activate any defense weapons in the past twelve hours?” “Negative, Captain Riggeur.” “So we weren’t attacked. What do you think happened to the corporate employees, Skipper?” “I do not think, Captain, I compute.” Lucia raised one brow slightly as Riggeur’s nostrils flared, and she wondered if her Captain was going to blow his stack at the computer. Instead, Riggeur took a calming breath. “What do you know about the whereabouts of the civilian personnel?” “They all left at 0300 hours.” There was a definite smugness in the A.I.’s electronic voice, and Lucia looked up at it thoughtfully. They left in the middle of the night?” Riggeur was openly stunned. “Where did they go?” “Home.” Oh great. They all went home and left us here like sitting ducks. Lucia glanced at Thrower, noting the alertness in his face and body, the way his eyes studied Riggeur while his brain was more than obviously mulling over something. But knowing Thrower, he wouldn’t say what he thought unless he had something figured out. He never did anything half-assed. Sometimes. “Are you sure?” Riggeur queried. “Check my scanners,” the A.I. replied. “The main hangar is empty and the transport is missing, as well as all the private vessels.” Oh shit. That’s not good. Lucia caught the look of alarm on Rhonda’s face and carefully kept her own expression bland. No need to panic anyone…there might be time for that later. “Why didn’t you tell us that before, Skipper?” Riggeur glared at the computer. “I was instructed not to, until four hours had passed, and only when specifically asked.” “And who in hell gave that order?” “The corporate manager. But he is not in hell, as far as I know.” Thrower glanced at Lucia, his eyes intent. She could just about guess what he was thinking, for the same thought had occurred to her as well. If the transport had left, they were stuck on Zurin Five until the next transport arrived, and that wouldn’t be for twenty days. “Why did they leave?” Riggeur demanded. “I do not have that information,” came the A.I.’s response. Reclining in his chair, Raylor started an irritating drumming of his fingers on the console. “Maybe the civilians got scared about the recent tremors. It seems we’ve had a few more than usual lately.” “Ridiculous.” Riggeur shrugged. “This facility stood steadfast for five hundred years and has never suffered from the quakes, no matter how violent. Duran built it to withstand any kind of seismic activity.”

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Rhonda stepped forward. “I know for a fact that Duran would never abandon their precious mining operations. The Styx crystals are too valuable. It’s the lifeblood of the corporation.” No, Duran wouldn’t abandon anything that was bringing them in good money. Lucia scratched her forearm lightly. Duran had the rights to Styx, a drug that created a pleasant euphoria and a small hallucinogenic after effect. A drug available only on Zurin Five, and worth billions on the black market. Nope, no way would Duran abandon the moon unless the shit was somehow really going to hit the fan. Or somewhere. Somewhere being right here. Riggeur glanced at Lucia. “Skipper, who is supervising the mining operations?” “The machines have stopped the extraction, Captain Riggeur.” Thrower slammed a fist on the console. “Bet you they took the last load of Styx crystals with them.” “Affirmative, Jonathan Thrower,” the A.I. chirped. “But I do not take bets. Gambling is against the rules.” Styx was given to the prisoners to calm them down and keep them under control. Thrower must be worried because if they didn’t get their Styx…Lucia looked sharply at Riggeur. Obviously the same thought had occurred to Riggeur. “Did the prisoners get their daily dose this morning?” “Negative, Captain Riggeur,” the A.I. replied. “My Styx vault is empty.” “Good God!” Rhonda exclaimed. Lucia transferred her gaze to Rhonda as Riggeur turned to face her and ask, “How long before they get agitated?” Glancing at the standard clock above the console, Rhonda counted on her fingers. “They’ll show the first signs of withdrawal before noon. Within two days, they’ll all be as psychotic as the worst Monacks, then many will get sick, some will start dying.” A loud rumble shook the Control room. The floor moved and everyone grabbed onto the nearest console to remain standing. The lights flickered and red warnings flashed on several monitors. When the tremor ceased, the blue glow of the control room had dimmed. A number of monitors had shut down and a strident emergency siren accompanied the rhythm of more flashing lights. That couldn’t be good. Lucia looked at the monitors and saw that the monitor showing Level Nineteen, the level that housed the most violent of criminals, was black. “I have lost the feed from Level Nineteen,” said Skipper’s mechanical voice among the tumult of emergency warnings. No kidding? Lucia looked at Riggeur. Riggeur’s voice was tight. “Turn off the damn sirens, Skipper, will you?” “Yes, Captain Riggeur.” The raucous quieted. Only the red and blue lights flashed on the A.I.’s panels. Waiting for orders, Lucia calmly gazed at Riggeur. They had to move now, had to investigate, but he had to give the order first. Thrower still stared at his console. “We have a transformer short in the engine room. That’s probably what screwed up the feed.” “We’ve got to fix it before we lose sight of the whole facility.”

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“Captain? There is worse.” Thrower spoke louder, his tone more urgent. “The temperature levels are rising in the nuclear reactor.” “The cooling system failed?” “Must be a leak in the coolant.” “Aren’t the cadmium bars supposed to drop automatically to stop the reaction in case of leak?” Thrower shook his head. “Looks like they didn’t drop. They must be stuck. Could be because of the quake.” Lucia peered over Thrower’s shoulder at the monitor and saw for herself the line of temperature climbing on the screen. She didn’t understand much of this side of things, but it obviously wasn’t good. In fact, the day was turning into a bad one. Fast. “How much time do we have?” Hands braced on his hips, Riggeur frowned. “It’s a small leak, it won’t get critical for a few hours. But we’ve lost control of Level Nineteen. I can’t order the robots to start on the modular repairs from here.” Thrower turned to Riggeur. “Someone will have to go down to Level Nineteen and direct the repairs from the control panel there.” “Damn! What about radiation?” Radiation? Just going down to Level Nineteen with no idea of what was going on down there was dangerous. Lucia didn’t like it, and she straightened up and looked at Riggeur. Thrower shrugged. “Should be okay at Level Nineteen. The reactor itself is much deeper underground. Only the robots affecting the repairs will be exposed. Want me to go, Captain?” “No. I need you to check the Engine room. Take Isles with you to fix the problem there.” Lucia moved up beside Thrower as he stood. At least they were going to start doing something constructive. Standing here debating things while hell knew what was going on around them, was something she didn’t like. Action, now, that she knew. Find the problem and fix it. “We can’t remain blind to Level Nineteen.” Riggeur looked at Thrower. “I’m counting on you to re-establish full control ASAP. Step on it.” Thrower nodded. “Sure thing, Captain.” “But just in case you don’t get it working fast enough, I’m starting down to the bottom of the facility to direct the robots to repair the coolant leak.” Lucia knew his smile was forced, just as all his smiles had been. She was good at reading expressions. “Keep in contact and let me know the minute you re-establish control. I hope I won’t need to go all the way down, but if I do, at least I’ll have a head start.” As Lucia followed Thrower from the Control room, she heard Riggeur order Raylor to stay and monitor the communications. Knowing Raylor, he’d probably sit back and take it easy. He was one man she hadn’t figured out yet. The newest addition to the Garrison crew, and a man of many facets. ***** Thrower could feel a slight niggling in his thigh. A twinge, and an indication that unless he was able to get the little piece of Styx in his pocket into his mouth without anyone

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noticing, his thigh was going to get really sore. Painful. Maybe even downright agonizing, depending on the severity it chose to hit. The sooner he got the transformer leak fixed, the sooner control was brought back to the prison, and the sooner he could check the cleanbots…and the Styx that would be stashed for him. He had to replenish his stock. Turning left after coming out of the Control room, Thrower and Isles walked in silence. They passed their cabins and the gym and went straight into the passageway that led to the Engine Room. Just before they got there, they turned into a small, windowless room to the left and the door slid shut behind them. “All right?” Pulling the heavy suit down from the wall, Isles lowered it to the ground and put her booted feet into the legs of the suit. “Yeah.” Thrower grunted. “Why?” “I see you’re limping a bit—“ “I’m fine,” he snapped, annoyed that she’d notice. “Okay.” She shrugged and pulled the suit up over her legs. Slipping his arms into the sleeves, Thrower took a deep breath. He knew he had at least four or five hours before the niggling in his thigh would start to turn into a dull ache. After that…well, suffice it to say, he had to have some Styx now, and here was the ideal opportunity. Isles had her back to him as she zipped up her suit and reached for the helmet with the visor. While she was diverted, Thrower slipped his hand into the opening of his unzipped suit and withdrew the tiny shard of crystal, which he quickly popped into his mouth. Pulling the helmet on, Isles drew on the heavy gloves next before turning to face him. “Ready?” “Always.” Feeling more confident as the crystal Styx evaporated in his mouth, he grinned. She raised one brow. “Get your helmet and gloves on, Thrower. We don’t have time to waste.” “Yes, Ma’am!” Saluting her sharply, he yanked on his gloves. Dropping the helmet over his head, he slapped the visor down and added, “Lead the way.” Isles gazed at him intently for several long seconds before lowering her own visor with a more unhurried movement. Thrower grinned. How he loved her coolness. He wouldn’t mind seeing if he could shake it sometime. Approaching the heavy door before them, they both laid their fingers on the scanners to each side of the door. The heavy metal slid open and they entered the Engine room. Immediately the light and heat from the huge sphere penetrated the room behind them until the door slid shut behind them. But the luminance still penetrated a lot of the Engine room. The twenty foot sphere pulsed with multi-sided facets of pure energy. Leads from the top of the engine connected into the ceiling high above them, and energy drew upward from the engine to travel along the leads to the AI computer, where the power was then directed outward to the many areas of the prison. Approaching the engine, Thrower found himself once again fascinated by the pulsing lights. All that energy…

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“What?” Lucia’s voice cut through his almost fascination. “Thrower? What’d you say?” Realizing he’d spoken his thoughts aloud, Thrower shook his head. “Nothing.” He had to concentrate on the job at hand. Moving up to the engines console, which wrapped around the base of the main engine, he tapped several keys, trying to find the leak. Isles did the same on another console, and slowly they worked their way around the engine. It took time as they thoroughly checked every section of the engine. Each section they studied pulsed blue until they moved on to another console. It was about half an hour later before the one of the sections glowed red. “Found it,” Thrower announced with satisfaction. “Isles, it’s the transformer up near the top.” “Great. Wonderful.” Stepping back, she tipped her head back and gazed up at the pulsating facets. “Couldn’t be easier.” The irony was plain in her tone, and Thrower laughed. Her helmeted head swung around to face him and titled slightly. He wondered what she was thinking. “Right.” He crossed to the door leading into the small room where the engine stores were kept, quickly found the spare transformer, came back into the engine room, and moved across to the machinery neatly fastened to the wall. Selecting the hydraulic bucket, he stepped inside it and tapped in the co-ordinates. Silently the bucket lifted, and the heavy iron arm extended up and out, moving across the room and lifting up until it stopped near the pulsing red facets. Giving Isles the thumbs up, Thrower reached out and placed his gloved hand on one of the planes and pushed hard, accompanying it with a twisting motion. The facet clicked and withdrew slowly out of the engine. Attached to it was the transformer. Gripping it carefully, Thrower disengaged it and lowered it into the bucket. Picking up the new transformer lying at his feet, he connected it back in and twisted the facet in the opposite direction and pushed. It slid neatly into place. Pressing the reverse key, Thrower felt the bucket shift, and then the extension arm withdrew and lowered until the bucket once more rested on the floor against the wall. Stepping down, he crossed to the console and re-engaged the transmitter. It glowed, the red facet turning golden once more. “Yeah!” Exuberantly, he punched the air with his fist. “Cool it,” Isles said calmly. “We’ve work to do. Captain Riggeur?” Unable to stop grinning, and even though hard-nosed Lucia Isles, his ice-cool-in-anemergency second-in-command couldn’t see him, Thrower blew her a little kiss. How about a reward, luscious babe? “Captain?” Isles waited silently for several seconds, then motioned to Thrower. “Try to call the Captain. He won’t answer me on our implanted comchips.” “Captain?” Thrower obediently said. “It’s Thrower. Answer please.” Nothing but static greeted him. Aw hell. “Raylor?” Isles tried again. “Javel? Nya? Can anyone hear me?”

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“The communications are down.” His humor vanishing, Thrower walked around the engine and studied the glowing facets. “But we can hear each other,” Isles pointed out. “That’s because of the mikes in the helmets.” Thrower knocked on his helmet. “Can you get the communications back?” “Sure, if I can figure out what has happened.” “Then hurry. I don’t like being out of contact with the others. God knows what’s going on in the prison, and we won’t know while we’re out of contact.” Resisting the urge to salute smartly once more–hell, Isles would probably kick my ass if I did–Thrower started keying instructions into the console. Static greeted him several times and he focused on the task. The longer this took, the longer it would be until he could get his next stash of Styx. “What can I do?” Isles queried. “Get onto the scanner over there and try to key into this frequency.” Thrower gave her the numbers. “Keep repeating it until we get a reply from the communication tower.” “So what are you doing?” She crossed to the scanner. “Trying to establish communication with our implanted chips.” Static met his every attempt and communication, and Thrower tried another tack. Reprogramming the communications detail, he attempted to link up to only one implanted comchip. One was better than none. Suddenly he heard it faintly, a scratchy sound that gradually came louder until Nya’s voice suddenly came through clearly. “Hello? Can anyone hear me?” She shouted. “Hell!” Thrower keyed the volume down. “I’m here, Nya.” “We lost contact with you,” Nya said. Hearing the urgency in her voice, Thrower turned his head to find Isles looking back at him. Thanks to the mikes in their helmets, she was able to hear Nya’s voice. “Report,” she ordered. “You won’t believe it, Isles,” Nya replied. “The place is breaking apart!” “Report what you see.” Her voice was calm and commanding. “Deep channels have formed, and it looks as though huge plates of earth have shifted. There’s something very hot quite a few miles away–you can see the steam in the air from here.” “Any signs of life?” “No, just we four guards.” “The facilities?” “Breaking apart. The glass house dome that’s situated on top of the Heat shaft to heat the air inside has shattered, possibly due to the earth tremors that can be felt easily up here. Cracks show heavily in the outer buildings.” Even as Nya spoke, Thrower felt the floor shift slightly below his boots before settling again. “The planet is destabilizing,” Nya informed them, a catch in her voice. “Are there any ships or transport of any kind?” Isles queried. “Not that we can see.”

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Amani’s voice came through statically. “Comm…tow…gone…” Thrower’s head snapped up from where he’d been gazing down at the floor. “What? Amani? Nya, what did Amani say?” “The communications tower. It’s collapsed.” “The tremors?” “No. Amani says it’s been done deliberately.” “You’re kidding me!” Disbelievingly, he stared across the space at Isles. He wished he could see her expression. However, she sounded calm when she spoke again. “Is there any way to link up to the emitter?” “No.” Nya drew a deep breath, and static shattered through the comchip. Instinctively Thrower slammed his hands over his ears, only to be met with the helmet. “No chan…all…destroyed…” Nya’s voice was replaced with silence. Relieved, Thrower sucked in a deep breath. “Nya? Nya, answer me.” Isles crossed to Thrower. “Try to re-establish us. While you do that, I’ll get Skipper to bring up the computer projection.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned to the computer in the wall and ordered, “Skipper, show us a projection of Zurin Five.” Quickly Thrower de-programmed and re-programmed several times. Finally giving up on Nya, he concentrated on Javel then Xerna. Silence fell between them as he worked on the communications while Isles studied the program. “Well, hell.” Her voice was bland. “Looks like we’d better find a way off this lump of rock fast.” Thrower glanced over his shoulder, did a double-take, and crossed over to stand beside her. The computer projection showed the moon slowly turning. Tunnels littered the moon, digging deep, and cutting into volcanoes. Plates of ice and moon were shifting, and hot magma flowed in different areas of the moon. A huge sea lapped on the other side of the moon. A sea where there never had been one. The planet of ice and snow was becoming unstable, hot magma flowing into the various tunnels, and plates shifting and lowering, shattering the stability of the moon. Ice caps were melting, and the prison was in the very real danger of being flooded. An earthquake was in progress, splintering the surface of the moon not far from the prison facility. “What’s the cause of this, Skipper?” Isles asked without any inflection of emotion. “Heavy mining has triggered a fault line, creating a domino effect across the planet,” Skipper said cheerfully. “And what does this mean for the planet in the near future?” “It will explode. It cannot take such drastic destruction. The environment is already fragile.” “Nothing can stop it?” “No.” “How soon do we have to be off the planet?” “Eleven days at the most. I compute it may be even less.” “Less by what? A couple of days? Ten?”

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“I cannot guess, Isles, I am not programmed to guess.” Skipper replied. “Your guess is the nearest estimate I can agree to.” Lucia looked at Thrower. “If we can establish communication with the outside world, we send out a call for help.” “No can do without the communications tower.” Thrower felt rage bubble up inside him. “Bloody Duran! Bastards of scientists! Fuck ‘em all!” “Not on my list of to-do things right now.” She nodded back towards the console. “Try to get hold of someone.” “How can you be so bloody calm at a time like this?” “Thrower,” her voice was annoyingly reasonable, “Neither of us is going anywhere, so apart from running around in circles and screaming, let’s try and regain control of what we can. All right?” Right at that moment, Thrower wanted to hit something. He would never hit a woman, so he punched the wall instead. “Feel better?” Isles asked. “No!” He punched the wall again. “Get back to work, Thrower.” She stared him down, and even though he couldn’t see her face, he could practically feel those fierce cat-eyes burning at him through the visor. “That’s an order.” Furious, and with a smidgen of panic beating at the back of his brain, Thrower did what he did best. Obeyed orders. Going into soldier mode, he continued de-programming and reprogramming–furiously. Finally giving up on contacting the guards up on the surface, he concentrated on Riggeur. Suddenly static sounded, and then came the faint sound of blood flowing through veins and heavy breathing. A murmur of voices, and suddenly he could hear Nya, Xerna and Riggeur faintly. Yes! Thrower drew a deep breath. “Got someone?” Isles guessed. “Xerna, Nya and Riggeur.” Holding his breath, he tried to fine-tune the sound. “Good. Concentrate on Riggeur. He needs to know what’s happening. I’m still not getting communication, so you’ll have to tell him what’s happening and get the orders.” “Captain Riggeur. Captain Riggeur, this is Thrower. Can you hear me down there?” Thrower waited, heard another burst of static, then breathed a sigh of relief when Riggeur’s relieved voice came through loud and clear. “I see you fixed the com, Thrower. Good job! It’s good to be connected again.” “Everything okay, Captain?” “Not exactly. It’s worse than anything we expected. All the prisoners are loose on Level Sixteen, and we have bodies, lots of them.” Thrower whistled through the implant. “Gee whizz! How is Rhonda holding up?” “Rhonda’s doing just great, but we need reinforcements. I have reasons to believe more inmates are loose on the lower levels, and we may have problems keeping them at bay while we program the repairs. What about sending us one of the teams from the surface? What did they find out up there, anyway?”

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“Doesn’t look good, Captain. We found out why the Duran employees left. It’s really bad news here, too.” Thrower cleared his throat, knowing Riggeur wasn’t going to be happy. “The suspense is killing me.” Riggeur snapped. “The hell with it, Thrower, spit it out!” “The off-scale seismic activity is only the beginning. All the plates are moving now. We expect the planet to destabilize.” There was a second of silence before Riggeur spoke again. “How much time do we have?” “A few days, ten at the most, before it gets critical.” “How critical?” Thrower clenched his fist. “Looks like the planet won’t make it, Captain. According to the computer projections, it will eventually blow up.” When continued silence greeted this, Thrower said hesitantly, “There’s worse, Captain. They’ve collapsed the communication tower.” “You mean the quakes did?” “No, Captain.” I wish. There might have been a chance then. “It was deliberate. Someone sabotaged the emitter. I can’t send any message off world.” “Damn!” “Looks like we are stuck here without possibility of rescue.” Thrower gritted his teeth, feeling the urge to punch someone all over again. “A transport would take weeks to get here anyway.” Riggeur sounded as calm as Isles. “We just have to find our own way off this rock.” “How do we do that?” Did Riggeur know something Thrower didn’t? “Don’t worry, Thrower, we’ll make it. Send the team closest to the surface looking for a ship, anything that can fly.” “Amani and Nya are on the surface now,” Thrower said. “I’ll send them on a search. But given the circumstances, I doubt they left any ship that’s space worthy.” “We don’t need a real ship. There might be a few reconnaissance flyers and small cargo shuttles that can jump us into high orbit and hopefully a little farther. Tell our guys to search the maintenance bay and the old abandoned hangars. See if they can come up with something, anything.” Rhonda must have said something, but Thrower couldn’t make out anything more than a faint static. Riggeur’s reply to her was clear. “True. But from space, we can send an SOS to other planets and wait to get rescued.” “Like an escape pod?” Hope blossomed in Thrower. “That’s the idea. We’ll need food and water for at least three or four weeks.” Now that he had more direction to go in, Thrower felt a whole lot better. “Okay, Captain. I think we can do that.” “Send Javel and Xerna down to Riggeur and Rhoda,” Isles interrupted Thrower. “They’ll need them with those prisoners being loose.” “And I’m sending Javel and Xerna in your direction,” Thrower added. “Wait. We are on lockdown. I’m disabling all the doors below Level Fifteen. Let me send you the new code.” There was a pause. “Got it?” Right at that moment, a violent quake rumbled through the Engine room, making the multi-facets flicker redly. The bucket on the metal arm actually clattered against the wall.

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Sparks came from one of the consoles. Thrown to the floor, Thrower and Isles rolled and slammed into the wall as the floor beneath them buckled. As quick as it came, it slowly rumbled away. The floor flattened, but there remained a buckling of the metal in places. Once the aftershocks shivered away to silence, Thrower scrambled back upwards and tried to reestablish communication, only to swear when he saw that the console was sparking the program he used to contact Riggeur. Now totally screwed up.

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Chapter Two Zurin Five Penitentiary, Andromeda Galaxy, 3033C.E. Underground Level Six, The Garrison Engine Room “Captain Riggeur?” he called, but there was no answer. “Can you get Javel and Xerna?” Lucia stepped over a buckled section of the floor. “I don’t know.” Swearing beneath his breath, Thrower went to the next console and tried. “Javel? Can you hear me?” When only static reached him, he slammed his fist on the console. “Damn it all to hell and back! We’ve lost contact again!” “We have to keep trying,” Isles informed him. “If I go to the Control room, I might be able to fiddle the computers—“ “It’s too dangerous.” “What?” “We need to establish communication with the other guards and hopefully the outside worlds, and this is the best place to do so. The earthquakes can come at any moment and we need to stay together. We don’t know how much damage has been done and how many prisoners are running free. It’s imperative we stay here and continue.” “I can cross wire the computer systems and attempt to plug into the communications—“ “That’s dangerous. You could be electrocuted, and very likely will be. We don’t know what electrical damage has been done by the quakes already.” “Not as dangerous as Riggeur and Rhonda being stuck down below with those rabid mongrels running around.” Thrower scowled. “My priority is to get those I can to safety. Rhonda and Riggeur will have to take their chances—“ “What the hell are you saying, Isles?” Furious, Thrower stomped up to her. “That we desert them?” Her damnably calm voice came through his mike. “Two against seven, Thrower. Riggeur would do the same. Safety of the most comes first, and then I go back for survivors.” “Survivors? Don’t make me bloody laugh! There won’t be anything but a pile of blood and bone left of Riggeur and Rhonda! How would you like it if I left you below?” “I’d expect it, Thrower. If you’d bothered to pay any attention to our training, you wouldn’t be arguing now.” “Where’s your loyalty, damn it?” Her thump to his shoulder was unexpected and hard. Damned hard. He actually staggered back a few feet. “Don’t ever question my loyalty, Thrower.” Her voice was so chilly a lesser man would have shivered. “If we could have contacted Javel and Xerna, it would be fine. Those two are the ones who could make it through to Riggeur and Rhonda. Their Karatzin blood makes them ideal. But we can’t contact them, and you and I are not able to hunt Riggeur and Rhonda without being sensed by some of the aliens. We’re needed here to try and save the others.

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Now I want you to continue trying to make contact with the other guards and the outside worlds.” “You’re a cold-hearted bitch, Isles!” “Don’t make me hurt you, Thrower.” She pointed to the console. “Move it.” Grinding his teeth, Thrower turned back to the console. Isles watched him for several minutes before returning to the scanner and continuing to type in the numbers he’d given her earlier. Furious now, Thrower glared at the useless console before him. It was a complete waste of time. He just knew he could go to the Control room and fiddle the wires, do a complete bypass of the normal system and possibly regain control of communications. Of course, it would be dangerous, Isles was correct. But there was no way he was going to fart around with this bloody hopeless console when there was something more powerful in the Control room. He just had to find a way to get pass Isles without her noticing until it was too late. Thrower watched for his chance. Isles didn’t trust him completely, for she kept glancing back at him now and again over her shoulder. The only thing to do was somehow get her diverted onto something long enough to enable him to slip out of Engine room and back to the Control room. Glancing around, his gaze fell upon the doorway of the small room to the side. That room led to the stores supply for the engine. If he could somehow convince Isles to spend time in there searching… Dropping to his knees, he undid the four catches holding the front panel of the console shut. Lowering it, he glanced over his shoulder as he leaned forward and saw that Isles was watching him. Good. Reaching in, he fiddled with the switches and pretended to be checking them. They were all perfectly good, but she didn’t need to know that. “Isles, I think I’ve found part of the problem,” he said. “What?” She moved over to stand behind him, bending down and peering into the maze of wires, discs and switches. “This disc here. See?” He pointed to a tiny silver disc. “It’s blown.” “How can you tell?” Why are you so nosey? “Because the space behind it has a black mark.” “I can’t see it.” “That’s because of the angle you’re on.” Moving forward, he blocked her view a little more and started undoing the catch holding the disc in place. “In the store you’ll find a small box of these discs. Can you get the box and bring me a new one?” “Where do I find them exactly?” “They should be on the third shelf, but I noticed the last Tour have changed things a bit. It might take you a few minutes to find them.” Especially since the discs are on the top shelf at the very back. “Why don’t I continue working the scanner and you get the discs?” Isles suggested. “You know what you’re looking for.” You, lady, are too bright for your own good. “Because while you’re looking for the discs, I’m going to check out what else is damaged. There looks to be a few things, but it’s going to take me a bit of time finding out what else has burnt out. I can either waste time looking for

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the discs, or spend it discovering what else is wrong while you look for the disc.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Unless you’re not in a hurry anymore. If that’s the case, I’ll go look and do this later.” “Never mind.” She flapped her gloved hand at him. “I’ll set the scanner to do an automatic two minute scanning on different sections of the galaxy while I’m in the store.” He grunted and turned his attention back to the insides of the console. He had no doubt his hard-nosed second-in-command wasn’t going to trust him fully. And he was right. Bending forwards lightly, he looked to his right at the inside console panel, and saw Isles checking up on him from the doorway of the store. Grinning to himself, he waited until she checked on him again about five long minutes later, then as soon as she disappeared a second time, he straightened quickly and left the engine room. Isles would spend a bit longer this time searching, especially now she thought he was absorbed in the console. Moving out into the small, windowless room, he took off his helmet and stripped off the gloves, dropping them onto the bench. Quickly he keyed in the exit code that all the guards knew for the Engine room, and the heavy metal door slid open. Stepping out into the passageway, he heard it slide shut behind him. Moving quickly, he unzipped the suit while running for the Control room. The passageway walls were cracked down one whole side, running the length of the wall. Coming out near the cabins and gym, he saw the water from the pool seeping through the doorway. Glancing in as he passed, he stopped and stared. The gym hadn’t fared as well as the Engine room. Here the floor was pushed right up under the pool, cracking the tiles and leaving it lopsided, half of the water covering the gym floor. Dumbbells and other gym paraphernalia were littered over the floor. Shaking his head, he ran past the cabins, not bothering to look into them, and hurried into the Control room. ***** Underground Level Six, The Garrison Control Room “Raylor!” he shouted. “Quick! Get the console above the monitors open and—Raylor?” He looked around. “Raylor?” The Control room was empty. “Raylor?” Thrower turned full circle, looking around the room. Raylor was gone. But where? He was supposed to stay in the Control room and monitor the communications. Not only that, but the monitors were flickering. “Skipper?” Thrower demanded. “What happened here? Where’s Raylor?” Silence greeted him, and looking up at the huge A.I. in the roof, Thrower saw the red light flickering on it. The A.I. was damaged, and that meant the Guards were up crap creek without a paddle. Shaking his head, Thrower strode across to the consoles above the monitors and opened them. Raylor he would have to worry about later. The A.I. was out of his league. Right now,

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he had to establish communications with Riggeur quickly, before Isles found him AWOL and decided to shoot him. Reaching in, he traced his finger over the wires and discs, identifying the connecting wires to certain discs. With great care he withdrew two discs and looked for the green wires behind them. Little sparks emanated from them as he brought them forward. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the little cutting device from the floor of the console and did a quick cut of the wires. The resulting sparks burnt his fingers and he swore. Holding the wires gingerly between his fingers and thumbs, he eyed them grimly. To join them could mean a shock. To prevent unauthorized tampering of the system, it had been rigged to be unpleasant to anyone who tried. He was unauthorized and trying. A recipe for disaster. Taking another deep breath, he moved suddenly. Forcing the wires together, he gave it one quick twist as he did so, looping them together loosely right before the sizzling blast sent him hurtling back halfway across the room. Stars exploded before his eyes, and his hands tingled. Gasping, he lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. His ears buzzed, and his heart pounded. The sparking sound still came from the consoles. He had, in effect, electrocuted himself. Not enough to kill him, but enough to make him feel a might shaky as he pushed himself up onto his feet. His thumbs actually had a black powder on them, the result of the electricity sizzling across his skin cells. This was what Isles meant as being too dangerous. It could have killed him. What is life if you didn’t live it dangerously? Thrower grinned weakly. Staggering back to the console, he gazed up at the sparking wires. Dare he touch it again? His flesh shrank from the thought. One of the monitors flicked, and Thrower sat down and keyed in the comchip codes. Static came from the once silent monitor. A faint voice stuttered and died again. Frowning, Thrower tried different combinations. Any second he expected Isles to come running into the Control room breathing fire and brimstone, but so far so good. This time the voice of Riggeur was stronger. Thrower breathed a sigh of relief. His gamble had worked–he now had communications with Riggeur. Touching the comchip on the base of his neck, “Thrower here, Captain Riggeur. I have communication established with you and will soon have it with the others. We’re all alive after that last quake and—“ “Well, well,” a nasally voice sneered. “What do we have here?” “One guard, all on his lonesome,” a deeper voice growled. Prisoners! Riggeur had said prisoners were loose and they must have gotten up here! Goddamn! Reaching for his phaser, Thrower cursed as his hand encountered his suit. The phaser was beneath it. His day just kept getting worse. Spinning around on his chair, he looked at the three prisoners. And blinked. And grinned. Then again, it might have just taken a turn for the better. *****

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She was going to kill him. She was going to pound him to a bloody pulp and kick his ass from here to the sun and back and then toss his worthless hide to the bearcats. If he wanted to live, the arrogant jerk had better take off running when he saw her. Fuming, Lucia strode along the passageway. Thrower had tricked her into searching the storeroom, while he disobeyed her orders and went off to the Control room. After the quakes, and knowing that some of the prisoners were loose, he should have had the sense to stay with her. Lucia cared about Riggeur and Rhonda, but her priorities lay in ensuring the safety of the guards left, and once she had them sheltered, then she could go back for the other two. Or even better, send Xerna and Javel, both of whom were much better equipped with their senses to go on a search party. Thrower was an arrogant bastard who thought he knew best. Still carrying her helmet in one hand, she moved past the gym, noting the wreckage of the pool. Water was in the passageway, and a dumbbell rolled across the floor. Maybe she should pick that up and use it to knock some sense into Thrower’s thick head. Nearing the control room, Lucia slowed down as voices issued clearly from it. Not Raylor’s voice, but unknown male voices. Thrower was talking to them, and…wait a minute. He sounded very businesslike… Coming to a halt just before the doorway, she angled her head to the side and listened. “You want some?” one voice queried. “Of course,” Thrower replied. “And I know you have it.” “You always know I have it.” “How much do you have?” “A small bagful.” “How much? The usual?” “Well, now, seeing as you’re looking a little desperate…” “Don’t jerk me around, Grinlin. I’ll pay the norm.” “Now how badly do you want it?” “Not bad enough to kill you. Maybe.” Frowning, Lucia peered cautiously around the corner of the open door. Her eyes widened when she saw Thrower facing three prisoners from Level Seven, the Pink Zone. One of the prisoners was human, a small blonde man. The second prisoner was a Juzzaar halfbreed, a golden-skinned humanoid wearing the dark glasses issued to them to protect their sensitive eyes from the light. But he wasn’t as tall or as strong as the full breed Juzzaar. The third prisoner was a woman, a Karatzin, one of a reptilian race, was a big problem. If she decided to get agitated and let that poisonous substance in her scaled skin go, then trouble was going to really start. The Karatzin was a worry. If it wasn’t for the scent of burnt wires filling the air, and the sizzle of electronics somewhere in the consoles, then the reptilian woman would have smelled Lucia through her highly-sensitized, flared nostrils that were two holes flat against her skull. Her hearing through the two holes that were also flat against her skull could normally hear even a heart beating, but with the creaking of the walls, and the sizzling of wires, there were too many sounds to sort through. Her own agitated state was also making her senses confused.

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“How much have you got on you right now for the Styx?” The human queried. Pushing the top of his suit down, Thrower thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small wallet. Quickly he counted out the notes and held them up. “Two hundred.” “Okay.” The human handed him a small plastic bag, and pocketed the notes. Lucia’s eyes arrowed. That bag contained Styx, the same drug mined by the Duran Corporation, and the same drug used to keep the prisoners docile. Why the hell did Thrower want it? Why was he trading in drugs? The woman sneered. “Why don’t we just kill the guard?” Thrower froze, his gaze flicking over her. “Because he pays good money for drugs,” the human replied. “There’re other buyers.” “He’s all right.” “He’s a guard. He’ll call for help.” Angrily the woman straightened up from her slouching position against the console. The human looked at Thrower. “Don’t be stupid,” Thrower said calmly. “I don’t think you’re going to let us just run around,” the Juzzaar ‘breed rumbled in a voice much too deep for his stature. The Karatzin woman’s nostrils flared. “He is a danger to us.” The human stepped back warily, his uncertainty reflected on his face. Lucia silently slipped her hand into her open suit and withdrew the phaser. Turning back against the wall out of sight, she set it on KILL and took a deep breath. Before she did anything she had to find out how far this scene would play. “Don’t be stupid,” Thrower snapped. “You think I honestly believe you’re going to just let us walk out of here?” the woman demanded. “Three prisoners on the loose?” “You were going to try and shoot us until you found out who we were,” the Juzzaar agreed. “Because you’re dealers.” Thrower gave an exasperated sigh. “Why would I kill my dealers?” “Because we’re escaped prisoners.” The Karatzin woman snarled, stepping forward. “Tell me what your plans are for us now?” “Go back to your cells,” Thrower said reasonably. And arrogantly. Lucia rolled her eyes. Thrower was an arrogant bastard through and through, and playing a dangerous game. “By the way,” he added, “how exactly did you get out of your cells?” “How do you think?” the Juzzaar queried. Lucia wondered what was going on in Thrower’s mind. Would he blurt out that Levels Sixteen down to Nineteen were loose? “The ‘quake cracked open your cells?” Thrower suggested. “Just kill him!” The Karatzin woman snapped. “He makes me nervous with these questions. He’ll turn us in or kill us, Grinlin!” The human looked a little sorry, but his whole demeanor had changed. “Sorry, Thrower…”

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“Damn!” Thrower looked incensed. “Since when do you two get told what to do by a female?” The Karatzin started to get really angry, her agitation sounding plainly as another rumble swept through the floor beneath them. “I’ll kill him.” Lucia peered around the doorway once more and took in the scene. The Karatzin looked agitated all right, her green/yellow eyes started to bulge. Her skin shivered, it looked clammy and her pores formed little pockets as her body readied itself to release the poisonous toxins. “I’ll do it.” The Juzzaar stepped forward. “You’ll kill us all with your poison, Serta.” There was no more time to waste. Lucia swung around into the doorway, firing off a shot from the phaser at the Karatzin, who dropped with a hole burned between her eyes. The Juzzaar was caught dead in the heart while he still stared open-mouthed at Lucia, and Grinlin, the human, made a grab for the wires in the open console above. Knowing he hoped to somehow fry them all or use it as a weapon, Lucia simply shot him in the back of the head. Thrower looked around at her, his surprise turning to relief, then wariness. “Nice to see you, Isles.” “Give me answers.” Holstering her phaser, Lucia walked steadily across the room until she stood directly before him. “What the hell is going on?” “It seems some of the Level Seven prisoners are loose—“ “I mean this, Thrower!” She pointed at the packet of Styx he held. “What the hell are you doing dealing drugs?” His jaw tightened, and she could see he didn’t want to answer her. “Tell me,” she growled. “That’s an order, Guard.” A muscle ticked in square jaw, and his dark eyes narrowed. “I use them for pain.” “For your leg?” “Yes.” “You bloody idiot! It’s addictive!” “I only use a little…” His gaze dropped slightly. That explained his mood swings, angry one minute, cheerful the next, even morose on occasion. And his limp…so bad one minute, then not a sign of it the next. “Do you realize the danger of it?” “There’s no danger,” he said tightly. “You bloody fool! What do you call dealing drugs with three escaped prisoners in the middle of a disaster, and with who knows how many more loose?” Lucia swore. “Give me the bloody drugs, Thrower.” “Get off my case, Isles,” Thrower snarled. Suddenly Lucia grabbed out at the bag of Styx, catching the corner of it. Before she could pull it from his grasp, his fingers snaked around her wrist. “Let go!” They both ordered angrily and at the same time. “You first,” Thrower breathed, his eyes glittering. “Give me the drugs,” Lucia returned. “And that’s an order, Thrower.” “Let go,” he repeated between clenched teeth.

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“This is your last warning—“ Her words were cut off as the floor beneath them shuddered. Letting go, she stepped back as a crack appeared in the floor and ran along it, splitting the tiles. Both of them stared at it as the crack ran up the far wall and onto the ceiling with incredible speed. “Run for the Garrison!” she yelled as the ceiling gave an alarming creaking sound. They both spun on their heels, but it was too late. A shower of dirt cascaded down upon them, there was a mighty roar and debris started to fall. They hadn’t gotten five steps before part of the roof came crashing down upon them. Metal screeched, tiles shattered, lights flared, electricity sizzled and sparks showered. A small explosive sound came from the console, and the screens of several of the monitors shattered outward, shards of glass flying through the air. Lucia thanked God she wore her suit as she felt a shower of glass hit the thick, impenetrable material on her back. A metal bar struck across her back, and something heavy shoving against her pushed her forward to the ground. Instinctively she tucked her head down between her arms and drew her knees up, trying to make herself a smaller target as more rubble came tumbling down. An explosion sounded, deafening her, and bright light flared along with a burst of sparks. Glancing up through the smoke, she saw the large metal plate that protected the underside of Skipper’s brain–the A.I. system shake, causing heavy pieces of roofing to buckle and split, and dust to shower down. Part of the plate bent and cracked under the strain, and with a tortured squeal of metal, it broke off from the A.I. unit. The ground shook as it hit, and metal and glass flew everywhere. A heavy piece of pipe that had protected the now exposed wires high overhead rolled towards her, she scrambled back, trying to get a heavy console between herself and the rolling tube of pipe containing electrical leads that hung out blackly. Even as she scrambled backwards, something smacked her on the back of the head and she literally saw a burst of light at the shock of the impact. Shaking her head, nausea swelling in her throat, she looked up, but it was too late. The heavy tubing rolled onto her, and a piece of wall crashed down to pin her right arm beneath it. Time seemed to stand still as the crashing of falling debris and breaking instruments went on and on. Unable to move from beneath the heavy tubing and other debris that pinned her down, Lucia could only try to protect her face with one hand. Closing her eyes, she tried to control her breathing, tried to ignore the fear that pounded at her. How was Thrower? Where was he? Gradually the noise died down until only the distant rumble of an earthquake sounded faintly. The floor moved slightly, then all became silent. Then Skipper’s voice rang out, “All Garrison personnel, please evacuate the facility immediately.” The phrase was repeating over and over. “All Garrison personnel, please evacuate the facility immediately. All Garrison personnel, please evacuate the facility immediately.” Squinting up into the dimness, Isles saw that the A.I. unit was still attached to the ceiling, but broken leads and wires hung out from the area where the metal plate had torn away and come crashing down. The lights dangling from wires flickered, casting a changing

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strength of light across everything. Rubble lay strewn everywhere. And she was trapped in it. Raising her head, she spat out a mouthful of dust and coughed. Now she could make out that the heavy tubing covered her abdomen painfully. A heavy console lay across her legs, the tubing preventing it from crushing her, but not enough to stop it pinning her down. Her arm was caught beneath a heavy sheet of wall. Pushing at it with her left hand, she grunted. Nothing happened. Looking around, she couldn’t make much out in the dimness. “Thrower?” Her voice was loud in the eerie stillness. A shower of sparks made her look up again sharply, but it came from the ceiling where the damaged A.I hung. “Thrower?” she called loudly. “Where are you? Are you all right?” Fear skittered through her. What if he was dead? What if she was the only one alive? She could lie here, she could— A sudden cough and swearing made her heart leap hopefully and she peered towards the sounds. “Thrower?” “Hells bells!” A dark shape pushed up from beneath a mound of debris, and Thrower staggered to his feet. “What the hell happened?” “Another earthquake, I guess.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “Are you all right?” “Yeah. Sort of.” He grunted. “You?” “I’m pinned down.” “Shit.” He staggered towards her, skidding on the debris and sliding the last few steps. Squatting down near her head, he studied the debris that covered her. “Damn.” “You can say that again.” “Are you hurt, Lucia?” “I don’t know.” “Can you get out?” No. Not by myself.” He pushed at the tubing. “Bloody heavy.” “Please, help me get out.” “Sure…” His voice faded away, he looked down at her consideringly. A chill crept through Lucia. Why was he looking like that? Was he thinking that she was the only one who knew his secret? That he dealt in drugs with the prisoners? If she got out of here, she could so easily ruin his career with a few words, but if she died…if she died, his secret was safe. She swallowed. She could beg for help. She could plead with him, promise him anything. Do anything. But I won’t. I will never ask more than once. I won’t beg. ***** Thrower looked at Isles, his gaze sweeping over her trapped body. What would be the best way to get her out from under the debris? Without moving, he looked at the heavy tubing, which was easily three times his own width. The console trapped her legs, but it didn’t look as though the full weight of it was on her. And her arm…the piece of wall lay upon it, trapping it securely.

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But she wasn’t in pain, and that could only mean a few things. Either she was paralyzed, God forbid, which meant she couldn’t feel anything, or she as in so much shock she couldn’t feel the pain, or more hopefully, she was pinned down but not badly injured. Carefully he picked his way around the debris, careful not to dislodge anything and send it rolling towards her prone and helpless body. If he could get the console off, that would leave more room to roll the tubing back. The console had it effectively lodged in place. Retrieving a long beam, he wedged it under the console and pushed, using his body weight against the leverage of the beam. The console creaked, and debris trickled down. Leaning his weight against it more, Thrower felt the sweat trickle down his hairline. Above him he could hear the metal groaning in what remained of the ceiling, but he was damned if he was going to leave Isles here alone to possibly die. He might be a bastard, but he was loyal one. “Be done in a minute, Isles,” he panted. “The ceiling—“ “Is not coming down yet.” Planting his feet more firmly in the debris, he pushed down on the beam. “That would be plain rude.” The heavy console shifted and desperate not to let it settle again, Thrower strained against the beam, feeling his muscles start to burn. The console shifted again, and he exerted one last burst of pressure. Dislodged, it slid sideways on the debris and suddenly skittered away, slipping down the small hill of debris and away from the tubing. “Damn!” Thrower wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to face Isles. She was looking at him steadily, her face expressionless, but the strain showed in the whiteness of her lips. Trying to make her feel a little better, Thrower grinned. “You really want my body now, don’t you?” “We’ll see how far you get first,” she replied. “Is that a promise?” He winked. Her smile was faint, but it was there. “We’ll see.” Turning his attention to the tubing, Thrower placed the edge of the beam under it and pushed. As he’d hoped, it didn’t take much to make it roll. Certainly not easy, but not as hard as the console. Being round in shape made it so much easier. It rolled away, bouncing and jolting across the debris until it landed against the wall in a shower of sparks from the smashed monitors and live wires poking out of them. Thrower looked down at Isles. He couldn’t see any blood coming from the torn suit pants. “Can you move your legs?” Cautiously she moved first one leg, then the other. Relief showed on her face, the same relief he felt. “Apart from hurting a little, they seem fine,” she said. “My stomach aches, but it’s fine.” “Great. Last problem about to be dealt with, then.” Moving across to her trapped arm, Thrower studied the wall. “Using the beam, I can lift it enough for you to slide your arm out. Okay?” “More than ready.” Isles looked up at him. “Go for it.”

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“Yes Ma’am!” Growing serious again, Thrower placed the end of the beam under the edge of the wall and using a small piece of console under the beam to form a brace, he pushed down. The wall lifted under a shower of debris, but it was enough for Isles to pull her arm free and she rolled away quickly. Dropping the beam, Thrower quickly squatted down beside her as she slowly sat up. Supporting her with one hand behind her back, he ran a critical gaze over her. “Apart from dirt and the torn suit, you came through remarkably unscathed.” “You don’t look so bad yourself.” Isles touched her finger to his cheek. “A few scratches.” Wiping his hand across his cheek, Thrower saw the smear of blood on his fingers and shrugged. “It’ll only add to my good looks.” Shaking her head, she started to push upright. Quickly Thrower helped her with one arm under her own, providing her with something to lean on as she stood and regained her balance. “All right?” he asked. Nodding, she took a few steps. “I’m fine. A bit wobbly, but I’ll get over it.” The distant rumbling suddenly grew louder, and an ominous cracking sounded overhead. They both looked up to see more large chunks of the ceiling start to crack, and above that again, the roof of Level Five splintering. “It’s going to come down!” Isles yelled. “Run!” Thrower swung around, only to find their way blocked by a heavy sheeting of metal, which effectively pinned them in against the far side of the Control room. “The way into the rest of the Control room and the doorway is blocked!” Thrower cursed wildly and swung around. “How do we get out?” “Here! Through here!” Grabbing his arm, she tugged with one hand and pointed with the other at the same time. He could see only one opening, and that was a broken section of wall with a shaft behind it. “Run!” She yelled above the thunderous roar that rolled down from above them. Grabbing her hand, he bounded over the debris, slipping and sliding over the destroyed equipment, dragging her along with him. A steel beam narrowly missed their heads as it came crashing down behind them. A live wire snapped past their faces, and a shower of glass spattered in front of them. The roar sounded louder, deafening and frightening, the floor shook, and the squeal of tortured metal vibrated through the air. With a last desperate lunge, Thrower shoved Isles ahead of him through the open section in the wall and tumbled in after her. They landed in a tangled heap upon the floor, and struggled to right themselves. Suddenly everything went pitch-black, the sound muffled, and then silence rang almost as loudly in their ringing ears as the roar of falling and tearing metal and debris had just seconds before. “What’s happened?” Thrower looked around uneasily in the dark.

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“Take it easy.” A small light flared, and Isles’s face appeared in the glow of the small torch she always carried on her belt. She aimed it around the shaft. “We’re in the Environmental shaft.” “But why is it so dark?” Thrower looked around. “Where’s the opening into the Control room?” The torch beam slipped over the walls and came to rest upon the broken section of wall. Sheet metal covered the opening completely. Getting up, Thrower moved across to it and shoved hard. It didn’t budge, and he swore, shoving hard again.“It’s wedged hard.” Angrily he kicked the metal sheet. “Guess we need to find another way out, then,” Isles said calmly. “Guess so.” Feeling the ache in his leg from the debris that had rained down upon them and landed on his leg as well, Thrower silently thanked God he d been able to get more Styx, and reached into his pocket. It was empty. Alarmed, he patted all his pockets. Wait minute. I didn’t put it in my pocket, did I? I was holding it–we were both holding it–when the roof collapsed–oh Fuck! Swinging around, he started to push desperately at the metal sheet blocking the wall. “Thrower? What’s wrong?” Isles didn’t move, the light of her torch flicking over him. “It’s blocked, remember?” “I have to get through!” “You can’t.” “I have to, damn it!” He started to kick at the wall, shoving and panting. “I have to!” “Thrower!” She sounded closer. “Stop!” “You don’t understand!” Frantically he started to claw at the wall. “I have to get it!” “Get it? Get what? Thrower, what are you on about?” “The Styx! The Styx is in the control room!” There was silence for several seconds before she stated quietly, “Thrower, you can’t move the blockage.” She didn’t understand. She could never understand. Just knowing the Styx was on the other side waiting for him, while the excruciating pain was right here waiting to claw into him…He pounded on the metal. “Open up! Damn you, open up!” “Thrower, listen to me, we can get out if you’ll calm down—“ “Bugger you! Bugger you, Isles! You have no idea! I need that stuff! I need it!” Desperately he pounded at the metal, pushing and shoving. “Thrower, calm down.” Ignoring her, he dropped to his knees and started scratching at the dirt floor, seeking to dig his way underneath if he had to. Isles’s hand fell on his shoulder. “Thrower, stop and think for a minute. You’re panicking—“ “Get off me!” Thrower shoved her hand off his shoulder and resumed digging, his fingers clawing into the dirt. Suddenly her hand hooked into his uniform top, hoisted him up and swung him around. One second he flailed out wildly, the next stars burst behind his eyes as a fist connected solidly with his jaw.

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He dropped to the ground like a rock. Shocked, his jaw throbbed, his leg aching with the fall, he lay stunned and blinked dazedly into the blackness. The torch light shone partially onto his face, not enough to make him cringe from the brightness, but enough to bring him to his senses. “Thrower,” Isles said calmly, her voice full of that annoyingly reasonable tone. “I’d advise you to save your energy. If you think this is bad, there’s worse to come.” He shook his head and touched his throbbing jaw. “What could possibly be worse?” “Wait until you go into withdrawals.”

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Chapter Three Underground Level Six, The Garrison Environmental Shaft Looking down at Thrower as he lay on the ground rubbing his sore chin, Lucia sighed inwardly. As if this wasn’t going to be hard enough, now she had a guard who was addicted to Styx and going to go into withdrawals. Great. Strung out inmates and now one of my own guards. Can life get any more interesting? And speaking of inmates…Sliding her hand into the open zipped top of the suit, Lucia withdrew the compad from her belt and switched it on. Oddly enough, the only people on Level Six were the three unmoving red dots back in the control room, and the two blue dots which were herself and Thrower. Where were the other prisoners from the lower levels? In fact, Level Seven should still have been behind bars, as Levels Sixteen to Nineteen were loose, Riggeur had stated. There was no mention of the other Levels, and he would have warned them at the time if they’d been loose. Another mystery. Why were those three prisoners loose? And where the hell was Raylor? Thrower looked up at her. “Did you have to hit me so hard?” “Trust me, it could have been harder.” Moving his jaw gingerly, Thrower climbed to his feet awkwardly. “You pack quite a punch, Isles.” Ignoring him, Lucia turned full circle, holding the compad before her. The only dots were still those of her, Thrower and the three dead inmates. Lucia faced Thrower once more. “Those three prisoners you were dealing with- “ “Don’t give me grief about it!” he snapped. She leveled a hard gaze on him. “I’ll do that later, Thrower, don’t you worry. What I’m asking now is, if those three were on this level, how come no one else is in the vicinity of the Control room?” “How should I know? Maybe they went another way.” “The Control Room is the best way out of here.” “They probably aren’t aware that the prison is breaking up.” Thrower shrugged. “So why would they be looking for a way out?” “Are you really that dense? Has the Styx withered away what little sense you have left?” “You’re going to make similar statements every chance you get, huh, Isles?” “Whenever you talk or think like a moron, yeah.” Lucia flicked the torch light around the shaft. Thrower looked around. “So where are we?” “The main Environmental shaft. The off-branches—“she swung the torch to the openings on each side, “Lead to different areas. Ventilation, heat, water, sewerage—“ “Ugh.”

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She ignored him. “Each branch leads from the surface to this main shaft, which links into the A.I through this.” She trained the torchlight on the computer lying in a mess of broken material on the far side of the shaft. Broken leads lay strewn beside it. “Well, it used to link to the A.I.” “You know a fair bit about this stuff.” “It’s my job to know a bit about everything.” Thrower shifted slightly, his expression serious as he gazed at Lucia. “So how long until I go into withdrawal?” “Depends on how much you take, how good the Styx is, and how long you’ve been on it.” “I’ve been on it since I started working here, which is one year now.” “We’ve never crossed paths before, so you’ve obviously worked other Tours.” “Yeah.” “How much Styx do you take?” “A couple of little pieces of crystal a day.” “For the last year?” “I used to only take one piece a day. Now…” He flushed a little. “Now you need more.” “Yeah.” He said it almost defiantly. Blowing out a breath of air, Lucia looked around the shaft again. Half of her mind was on his problem–wrong, their problem now–while the other part of her was wondering how they were going to get out. “Isles?” “Mmm?” “Did you listen to a word I said?” “Oh yeah, I did. Your body craves more Styx than it used to. You’re hooked.” “So how long until I start to withdrawal?” Lucia transferred her gaze to Thrower. His square-jawed, good-looking face was tight, his dark eyes watchful and worried. “To be honest, Thrower, a drug user is always in a state of withdrawal, it just depends on which stage you’re at. As soon as the drug has been absorbed into the bloodstream, it starts to work, and you’ll gradually get the craving for more. I can’t say when the full impact of withdrawal will hit you, but I have no doubt we’ll know.” “I thought you said you knew a bit about everything?” “That’s the bit I know.” “Shit!” Angrily he kicked at the wall. The metal barely sounded a muffled thump. “How did you get the drug, Thrower?” He looked moodily at her. “How?” “Guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?” He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Confession time?” “They say it’s good for the soul.” Absently, he ran his palm down his sore thigh. “The dealers are on Level Seven, the Pink Zone. They’re the only ones allowed out of their cells in pairs.”

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“Because Level Seven prisoners are non-violent, they’re there more for the political upheavals they’ve caused. Some would say traitors.” Lucia nodded. “But how did they get the drug to trade with? It’s put into their food, not handed to them.” “I don’t know.” “You didn’t think to ask?” “No, I forgot to find out before I touched the nasty stuff.” Sarcasm dripped from his words. “Cute.” A sudden thought occurred to her. “Is that why you came to work here? Because Styx was mined here?” “No. That was just an added bonus. The Styx I found had been placed on the cleanbot when I checked it, and as I’d heard of its strong analgesia effect, I decided to try a little. When I found it worked, I put some money in the cleanbot and checked it daily until about three days later there was another bag of Styx on there.” “So someone else is dealing in drugs.” “Apparently.” “So your routine was established?” Lucia wondered who the other dealer amongst the guards could be. “Yep. I was able to establish who the dealers on Level Seven were, by waiting and watching. When on patrol, I’d mentioned to them if I needed more Styx, and during their next exercise period, one of the dealers would check the cleanbot to see if I’ve stashed money in the small compartment. If I’d placed the money, he’ll take it and place a bag of Styx in there for me. When the cleanbot comes back to the maintenance area, I check it for the Styx.” Well, that explained that. The cleanbots were always checked by a guard to ensure nothing had been done to it or taken off that could be used as a weapon of any kind while it was amongst the prisoners. Thrower had the duty of checking the cleanbots. “Sneaky.” Lucia glared at him, allowing disgust to creep into her voice. “So you deal with prisoners for drugs. That’s low, Thrower, even for you.” “You have no idea of the pain I live with!” He snarled back. “You’re on painkillers from the doctor.” “And those pills are bloody useless! If it wasn’t for the Styx, there are times I can be rolling around practically screaming in agony!” “Well now you’ll be hallucinating, psychotic and practically climbing the walls. What’s worse?” Thrower’s jaw clenched and his nostrils flared with his fury. Just as suddenly, his shoulders slumped and he leaned wearily back against the wall. “Maybe you’d better go on without me, Isles.” “Why?” “Because it’d be a hell of a lot safer.” His eyes glinted seriously in the torchlight. “You’re not strong enough to handle me if–when–I go psycho.” His words touched her, mostly because of the ring of sincerity within them. “We’re in this together.” “No.” “Yes. I won’t leave you behind.” “Don’t be a fool, Isles. I’ll be a hindrance and a danger.”

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“Let’s see. I am in the presence of one would-be psycho. Elsewhere in this prison are a whole heap of psychos. Thrower, I’ll take my chances with you.” For the first time since she’d discovered he’d gone AWOL from the engine room, Lucia smiled. “Guards against inmates.” “Isles—“ “That’s an order, Thrower. You do as I say, when I say it. Now you’re coming with me.” Dismissing the subject, Lucia slid the torchlight around the shaft again. Thrower swore and pushed away from the wall, giving a wince as he did so. “I’d save your energy for our trip out.” Lucia debated which tunnel to take. Still swearing softly, Thrower watched her before finally saying impatiently, “Where now? This one?” He stalked over to the nearest tunnel, a slight limp in his leg. “Only if you want to be wading in body waste.” “Then which one?” He scowled. Oh, this trip with laughing boy should be fun. “Well, the heat shaft apparently has a way out. The glass dome on top that helped heat the air by acting as a glass house was shattered. So we might be able to get out that way.” “There’re stairs or a lift or something?” “There’s a platform that goes up. It enables a person to check the shaft.” “Isn’t that what the maintenancebots are for?” “Never place all your faith in robots. They’re not infallible.” “But—“ “I actually noticed the platform when I came exploring one day. The platform gets off on every floor.” Thrower’s face brightened. “So we get the platform lift, take it up and get out!” “That’s the plan.” “Then let’s go.” Flicking the light over the signs at the entrance to each tunnel, Lucia located the heating shaft and led the way into the dim depths. The last time she’d been down here, the corridor had been well-lit, but now the power was out, and the only light was a dull globe from the emergency back-up power supply. The globe was positioned every twenty feet, allowing a weak glow that just enabled them to see. Now and again the light flickered. Obviously the back-up power supply wasn’t going to last too long. But while it lasted, she intended to conserve the torch energy. She clicked it off and slipped it back into her belt under the suit. As they walked along, Lucia wondered about the Styx. The drug was supposed to be available only in liquid form, and was put into the prisoners’ food just before it went out the serving hatch into each room. A measured dose per inmate, adjusted to their body weight and strength. The Styx that Thrower was getting was in its mined form of crystal. So who was supplying the Styx crystals to the prisoners, and why? And even more worrying, why did the security cameras never pick-up the exchange of money and drugs? Who was fiddling the cameras? Could it be one of the other Guards on the shift while the transfer was being completed? Lucia frowned. The other guards, apart from Riggeur, she didn’t know too well, but none appeared to be crooked. But obviously someone was. Which brought another troubling

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thought to mind–were they in cahoots with Thrower? Was he being paid to do some dirty dealings inside the prison? Things just kept going from bad to worse. Deciding to keep her thoughts to herself for now, Lucia glanced behind to see Thrower following her, his slight limp now more than evident. How dangerous was he now? Hell, he was going to be really dangerous soon, but now? No, if he was crooked as a dog’s hind leg, he wouldn’t attack her until they got topside. Right now, he needed her to get out. They needed each other. Whoopee. Not wanting him to be right behind her, Lucia dropped back until they were walking side by side. Moodily, Thrower glanced at her but didn’t say anything. The tunnel moved steadily inwards, and it took a half an hour before they stepped out into the heating shaft. Their boots crunched on the broken glass that had been shattered 6 levels up. What was once a warm shaft, almost hot at times, was now chilly. Not only that, but the platform lift was standing by the wall with only one cable attached. The other lay snapped on the floor. Crossing to the platform, Thrower and Lucia studied it. “Dangerous,” Thrower commented. “The remaining cable might not hold the platform.” “We’ll just have to check out the other tunnels,” Lucia replied. “What if they’re all in as bad a condition as this one?” “Then we take whichever one looks the strongest.” “That’s insane.” “You have a better idea?” Lucia squinted up the shaft but was unable to see the top. The iron walls, now buckled under the pressure of the quakes, soared upwards. Even the huge fan that drew in the heated air wasn’t visible, nor could it be heard. “Scale the walls, perhaps?” “You’re a barrel of laughs, Isles.” “And yet, you’re not laughing.” Thrower snorted. “Come on, laughing boy.” Lucia turned away. “Let’s go to the next one.” The trip back down the tunnel was made almost in silence. The only sound was Thrower’s slightly choppy breathing, and going by the way his limp was worsening, Lucia related the two. “Want to rest?” She finally asked. “Keep going.” “Fine.” It was better to go while his mind was still functioning normally, anyway, though normal with Thrower could be questionable at the best of times. Coming back out into the environmental shaft, Lucia swung the torch beam onto the other tunnels. “I vote we don’t go to the sewerage,” Thrower said, a hint of wry amusement in his tone. Surprised, Lucia flicked the torchlight at him. “Is that amusement I hear, Thrower?” “Make the most of it, sweetheart.”

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“Oh, I will. I’d frame it if I could, for future reference.” At least he wasn’t being so morose right now. “Well, two choices left then. Ventilation and water.” “Blown or drowned. What a choice.” “Blown it is, then?” “Could I be so lucky?” “Thrower, if you don’t want to be slapped silly, I suggest you keep those comments to yourself.” “Lead on.” Smiling, Lucia swept the light over the tunnels, then frowned. “Crap.” “What’s wrong?” “Where are the signs?” Thrower moved forward. “They were right…here.” He stopped, then bent over and picked up the two signs. Holding them up, he studied them closely then turned to her with a strange expression on his face. “Isles, give me some light.” Moving up to his side, Lucia shone the light on the signs. At first she couldn’t understand what the problem was, apart from the fact that they now didn’t know which tunnel was which. Then she saw what he was staring at, and she cursed. The signs bore claw marks. Someone–or something–had clawed them off the walls. “Monack?” she guessed. “A shape shifter could do this, yes,” Thrower agreed. “But there’re no shape shifters on Level Seven. No Monacks for quite a few levels down. They’re too savage. They’re in the lower levels, like fifteen to nineteen.” “You think the Levels could have broken up that quickly? The inmates escaped that fast through the Levels?” “Not likely. The Levels are equal to three stories, and is a maze of staggered rows and blocks of cells.” Lucia nodded. It was next to impossible. The prison was a design of efficiency, a huge, underground fortress designed as a three-dimensional maze that could be locked down at any level. Each level had a totally different layout for its seventy-seven hundred cells of nine square meters each. A blueprint, security codes, and the DNA of two guards on duty was needed to get out, so no prisoner could ever work his or her way up to the surface. Even for the guards and in the best of conditions, the way down or up was long and time-consuming, with square turns and double-backs along several kilometers of staggered corridors on each level. “So if not a Monack, then what clawed these down?” she queried. Puzzled, Thrower studied the claw marks. Lucia shone the torchlight on the tunnel openings, allowing the light to trail across the walls where the signs had been. A chill went through her as she saw the claw marks on the walls. Claw marks that were upside down, sideways…in fact, all over the surface near where the signs had been. “Something else is in here,” she said quietly. “No doubt about that.” “It–or they–could still be in here.” Immediately Thrower looked around, squinting into the darkness.

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“I think we need to get a move on.” Lucia moved the light over the tunnels. “Left or right?” “At this stage, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” “Right it is, then.” This tunnel, too, was lit by flickering bulbs placed twenty feet apart. Again, Lucia put the torch in her belt. The walls in this tunnel had been breached by the look of it, for holes gaped in the sides of the torn metal, and she could see nothing but darkness beyond. That creeped her out, and there wasn’t much that could do that to her. But with some unknown creature clawing its way through the environmental shaft, she was starting to wonder if it had come through the holes in the walls. She stopped moving. “Thrower?” “Yeah?” His warmth was right behind her, indicating how close he stood. “I don’t like those holes in the wall.” “I was just thinking the same.” “Maybe we should turn back.” “You’re thinking about whatever made those claw marks?” “Yeah.” He was silent for several seconds before he said, “I think you could be right.” About to reply, she froze as a weird clicking sound came from behind them. Turning slowly, she peered around Thrower back into the dimly lit tunnel. He moved aside as he, too, turned. The clicking grew louder. “What is that?” Thrower queried. “I don’t know.” Reaching into the suit, she took the phaser from her belt and set it on STUN. Thrower did the same and together they waited as the clicking sound grew closer. Lucia wasn’t sure if it was such a good idea to wait. Whatever was coming also now had a weird dragging sound. “I think I’d better scout ahead.” Thrower moved forward. “No.” She grabbed his arm. “We don’t know what it is.” “But we would if I could see it.” “There’s no room in these tunnels for a fight.” “Then what do you suggest?” “I think we should go forward and come out in the shaft.” “And what if whoever or whatever made those claw marks is waiting for us there?” “Whatever made it could be coming towards us right now.” They looked at each other. “We’re at a bit of an impasse, aren’t we?” Thrower finally said. “Facing trouble either way.” Lucia frowned. “However, standing still isn’t going to do us any good.” “Let me go back and see what it is.” “We’re not separating, Thrower. We stay together.” “So we’ll go back together.”

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Either way, they were facing the unknown. With a sigh, she nodded. “We go together. Lead on.” Holding his phaser, Thrower moved ahead while Lucia followed close behind, but he was enough to the side to enable her to fire her phaser if she had to. Aware of the dimness, they moved cautiously. The clicking grew louder, as did the slithering sound as something approached them in the gloom. Big, the bulk of it hunching and elongating slowly as it moved towards them, the impression was that of a large worm with its upper torso raised off the ground. It easily reached up to their thighs, the head coming up to their shoulder height. “What the hell…” Lucia muttered. Thrower quickly reached back with one finger up in indication for silence, and she obeyed, giving way to his military training. When he motioned her to move slowly to the side, she did as bidden. Thrower moved to stand beside her, but placing himself between her and the approaching…thing. “What is it?’ Lucia whispered. “Buggered if I know,” he whispered back. “I’ve never heard of anything like it in these tunnels, have you?” “No.” As it neared they could see it was a dull red/brown in color, and the dim light gleamed off the back. It looked as though it had a shell of some kind instead of skin, or some kind of armor. Steam rose from its body, and as it drew closer, warmth emanated from it. In its wake, it left small dobs of some kind of matter, and from the back of it rolled— Lucia couldn’t believe her eyes. Some kind of…lava? It moved closer, and slowly she started moving backwards, touching Thrower to indicate her movements. He moved with her. The creature stopped moving, and the front part of it lifted, stretching, and suddenly she could see, in the dim light that it looked like a hard-skinned giant worm of some kind. Its eyes were huge and glistening with what appeared to be some kind of protective netting over them. The back part of it dragged behind it, but the torso was upright on two heavily-muscled legs with flat, splayed claws. The legs pulled the body along. But it was the front arms that extended suddenly from slits in the chest that made her cringe inwardly. The arms reached out, long and smooth, red/brown, hard-shelled, and with huge, raking claws on each end, like talons. One slash from those claws could pretty much cut her in half. The dim light still caught the razor sharp edges. “Hell,” Thrower muttered. “I think we should make for the shaft,” Lucia suggested, keeping the phaser trained on whatever-the-hell it was coming up the tunnel. “I agree. But keep to the wall and move as smoothly as you can, no sudden gestures, okay? It may not see us—“Thrower began. Suddenly the creature let out a series of high-pitched clicks and the head swung around, one eye glistening in their direction. The arms snapped forward, the claws raking the

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air. The clicking of its claws clashing together and the dragging sound on the tunnel floor as it pulled itself towards them was nightmarish. “But what the hell,” Thrower finished. “It’s seen us anyway. Run!” He shoved Lucia back towards the shaft they’d been heading for earlier, and scrambled behind her. The creature let out a rapid fire clicks, the sound of its claws faster on the floor. It was after them. ***** Running behind Isles and trying to ignore the sharp ache in his thigh, Thrower glanced over his shoulder to see how fast the creature was gaining on them. Luckily, it had to rely on those arms to pull its bulk along, because it wasn’t making fast progress. Still, he didn’t want to be around to see what other tricks it might have up its shell. They raced along the tunnel, their phasers in hand, and halted only when they heard the rush of water up ahead. Coming to a halt, they looked at each other. “This is the water shaft,” Isles stated. “I kind of guessed that.” Thrower shoved one hand through his short hair. “Damn!” “Maybe that thing won’t like water.” “Have you ever been in the water shaft before?” “Once.” Isles nodded. “To check it out.” Of course, Isles was ever efficient. Thrower hid his grimace. “Any outlets there apart from this one?” “Again, only the platform lift that goes up the side.” “Let’s take it, then.” Isles nodded and led the way quickly towards the shaft opening ahead. Suddenly the wall near the opening of the shaft bulged outward and dirt showered out from the cracks that appeared in the heavy metal. Grabbing Isles, Thrower pulled her back, and they both trained their phasers on the wall. “I have a bad feeling about his,” he muttered, glancing behind them. “No shit?” Isles changed the phaser from STUN to KILL. “I couldn’t even begin to imagine why.” Thrower couldn’t even begin to imagine how his second-in-command could keep such a dry sense of humor. He’d noticed her dry wit before, on the odd occasion, but now it was just the two of them, he noticed it a lot more. Especially as a lot of women would be panicking by now. Not to mention the same number of men. As they backed away, the wall exploded outward with a groaning crack and a shower of dirt, and a head with glistening black eyes came out of the opening. As the head rose up, its jaws opened to show jagged teeth and a loud snuffling snort came from it. Its head swung around and it spotted Thrower and Isles. Immediately the two arms emerged, the claws flexing and slashing. “Shoot!” Isles commanded. “Kill it!” Thrower didn’t need any telling. Already training the phaser on it, he fired off a round. The laser fire seared across the head, leaving a gouge, and the creature let out a highpitched, squealing cry. Lowering its head, it used its powerful front legs to pull itself further through the hole it had made.

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Isles let loose a fire of deadly laser power, this time drilling it between the eyes. Again, it threw its head back, squealed… and started forward again, its claws slashing the air furiously. Behind them another bug squealed followed by the dragging and clicking of claws. “The other one is coming!” Thrower swore. “We can’t go back!” Isles trained her phaser on the creature again. “We have to go forward!” “There could be more of them inside the shaft!” “And there could be more coming through the walls at any second! Kill this bastard and we can get past it!” Cursing, Thrower fired blast after blast, but it was Isles fire into the eyes of the creature that finally killed it. With a last squeal, it slumped forward, the last of its body spilling over into the tunnel. The blood running from its body was black, and steamed. Steam came from the holes burnt into it from the phaser fire. And it blocked the tunnel. “Aw, crap,” Thrower said, wiping his forehead with a slightly shaky hand. “We have to get around it.” Isles moved forward warily. “We don’t know if it’s dead yet.” Thrower moved around her. “Then I’m about to find out. Cover me.” Keeping his phaser trained on the creature’s eye-sockets, from which oozed glutinous, steaming messes, Thrower followed close behind as Isles carefully stepped over the creatures immobile claws. “Don’t touch it,” Isles cautioned him. “I can feel the heat coming from its body.” “What the hell is it?” Seeing Isles safely past the creature, Thrower followed her path, moving carefully. “I haven’t heard of anything like them,” Isles replied. “But I do remember a vague reference in some history papers to do with a couple of tunnels found deep underground once. The tunnels were old, capsized. They seemed to be leading downwards towards the center of the planet.” Thrower looked sharply at her. “You don’t think these things come from near the center of the planet?” She shrugged. “Why not? They are very hot, their blood steams. They must live near the lava center.” Mulling that thought over, Thrower blinked as his gaze blurred for a few seconds. “You okay?” Isles was frowning at him. “Yeah. Must be the heat getting to me.” He grinned reassuringly. The clicking and dragging sound coming from behind them made her attention focus elsewhere. “Here comes that other thing. Let’s move it.” Running forward, they glanced back several times, but the creature wasn’t gaining on them. Ahead Thrower could hear the muted roar of water, and when Isles started to slow down with a frown, he realized it wasn’t a sound commonly heard. This didn’t bode well, in his book.

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Suddenly the wall to his left bulged, the metal splitting with an ear-piercing shriek, and the earth poured out from the growing hole. He trained his phaser on it, knowing the monstrosity that was going to make an appearance, only to swear when just inches from his shoulder on the right, the wall started to crack. This time the walls burst forth more easily, and two of the creatures pushed their heads through and started roaring at the sight of Isles and Thrower. Even as the guards swerved to avoid them, the walls buckled just ahead of them. “Run!” Isles yelled. “There’s more coming!” One coming up the tunnel behind them, two coming through the walls behind them, and another trying to break through ahead of them. And they had to pass it and run blindly into the water shaft. Thrower felt like he could have happily downed a whole handful of Styx right then. However, it wasn’t an option, so he gritted his teeth and ran after Isles. When she glanced back over her shoulder to ensure he was behind her, he couldn’t stop the little spurt of gratitude at the concern in her eyes. But he waved her onwards and kept running behind her. They passed the break in the wall just as a claw snaked out and snapped in the air, catching Isles by the shoulder of her suit. Jerked to a halt, she swore and tried to wrench free. “Look away!” Thrower yelled. “Now!” She did as bidden and he fired rapidly into the claw. It jerked open, releasing her, and Thrower shoved his hand in her back to propel her forward out of reach, narrowly missing the claw himself as it slashed downwards, hot blood spurting from it. They burst through into the water shaft and stumbled to a halt. Breathing harshly, Thrower looked around quickly. The shaft soared upwards to the surface, and a huge pipe ran down the middle with smaller pipes heading off it onto the different levels. But the main pipe was severed off partway and fresh water, crisp and cold, gushed down into the depths below. Uncontrolled by the A.I., it was almost a raging torrent, pipes and heavy iron blockages. The shelf they stood on was narrow, large parts of it broken away. It was unsteady below their feet, and cautiously they balanced. “Thrower.” “Isles.” “This doesn’t look good.” “That’s the understatement of the year.” A snuffling roar sounded behind them and wildly Thrower looked up and around. The platform lift was gone, only the thick cables swinging free partway up the wall. Part of a pipe was wedged not far from them and made an uncertain bridge to the other side of the shaft. “If we can cross the pipe,” Isles suggested over the roar of the water, “We can get to the other side.” “And we could be trapped.” “What, you don’t think we are now?” The snapping of claws and dragging sounds multiplied, Thrower swung around carefully to face the coming threat. “We stand here and fight and probably die, or we try and cross,” Isles stated firmly.

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“And we cross and die.” “We’d have a chance.” He looked incredulously at her. “Those things may not want to chance crossing the pipe.” “And if they do?” “What do you suggest, then?” There was nothing to suggest. There was no way out except past those creatures and back out the tunnel, but who knew how many more were coming through the walls in that tunnel? They were hard to kill… “Let’s go over the pipe.” Thrower started to sidle cautiously along the rim towards the pipe. Carefully Isles matched him step for step in little shuffling movements. The ground beneath them crumbled slightly, but they kept moving. Suddenly one of the creatures lurched through the opening into the shaft, its head swinging around until the dark, glistening eye spotted them, and it let out rapid, high-pitched clicks and started dragging itself forward, the front claws reaching out and slashing. Isles fired her phaser at it, and immediately hot blood spattered from inside the hard shell. Its muffled roar came from between jagged teeth and it lurched forward. Unlike Isles and Thrower, it wasn’t taking care, and even as they both tried to move sideways and fire simultaneously at it, it lurched forward carelessly. The ledge crumbled. Thrower felt it give way beneath them, and he grabbed Isles collar, trying to throw her forward, but the creature suddenly fell through the fragile rim and flipped over, its rounded stump of a tail slamming into Isles’s side, sending her backwards into the shaft after it. Still clinging to her collar, Thrower spun in after her. The fall was a long way down, and he hit the surface hard. Ice cold water closed over his head, and he immediately tried to push upwards towards the surface. Kicking powerfully, he nevertheless felt himself being dragged downwards, the pull of something drawing him further down. The nightmarish head of the creature flashed close past him, making his skin crawl even as his mind was taken up with the instinct to survive. A sharp claw raked down his arm, and red tinged the water immediately, but the ice cold water numbed any pain. Isles face appeared before him as she spun downwards. Her teeth were clenched, and she blinked and reached out as she suddenly saw him. Grabbing her wrist in a fast, instinctive move, Thrower felt himself tugged sideways. Lungs bursting, he looked around frantically, and then he saw that Isles had hold of a cable with one hand. He made a grab for the cable as well, but a heavy piece of rock surged downward past him and glanced off the side of Isles’s head. She fell limp, bubbles pouring from her mouth, and Thrower knew he only had seconds to save both of their lives. His lungs screamed for air, and Isles had just let her last bit go. Even as the depths darkened around him, he felt a sudden sucking sensation, and then he was being drawn rapidly into a side tunnel. Keeping tight hold of Isles, she was drawn with him, and now he saw the light above him. Surface! Air!

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In a last burst of remaining energy, he surged upwards and gasped as his head broke the surface, allowing his breath to gush out and suck in more air. Something bumped up against him, he looked down and saw the dark swirl of hair in the water. Isles! Grabbing her under the arms, he tipped her over so that her head was above the water level. Spotting the shelf on the side of the tunnel, he dragged her over to it and pushed her up onto it. Her chest moved sluggishly, as though finding it hard to move, and he heard the gurgle of water as she breathed. Not knowing what else to do, he pressed his mouth over hers and breathed in fast. Immediately she started to choke, coughing and gurgling, and he pushed her over onto her stomach as the water she’d swallowed gushed up. She coughed up water, and relief spread through him. If she could cough, she could breath. “That’s it, Isles,” he whispered, his voice shaking with cold, shock and fatigue. “Cough it out.” He hauled himself up to lie beside her. When she finally stopped coughing, she lifted her head to stare blearily up at him through half-closed eyes. “Thrower?” Choking again, she coughed up more water. “Yeah.” Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Nothing more was said between them. Taking in deep breaths, they rested. Thrower became aware of his arm throbbing, not to mention his thigh, and finally he dragged himself up into a sitting position. The sleeve of his uniform and suit at his upper arms was slashed open, and blood streaks stained it. Wincing, he pulled the fabric open and studied the slash in his arm. “I’d have thought there’d be more blood.” Crawling across on her knees, Isles studied his arm. “Cold water is good for getting blood out of material, you know.” “I’m so glad to know that.” He glanced up at her. Her dark hair, now wet, hung in a straggling mass around her shoulders, and her face was paler than he’d ever seen it, but her dark eyes, tilted cat-like at the corners, were intent and concerned as she checked his wound. A bruise started to darken on one high cheekbone, and her small teeth caught her plump bottom lip in concentration. Isles was pretty. Pretty wet, pretty bruised, pretty tough, and simply pretty. And now was certainly the wrong time to be thinking about that kind of thing. “What are you staring at?” she queried. “The bruise on your cheek.” “Mmm.” Shrugging out of the suit top, Isles took a knife from her boot and hacked off a sleeve. “Bandage?” Thrower guessed. “Very good, Thrower, I am impressed.” “Do you think it’s wise to cut up your suit?” “What else are we supposed to do?” One fine brow quirked. “Sew the edges of the wound shut with a strand or two of hair?” “I just bet you would if you had a needle.” He couldn’t stop the ghost of a grin.

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“I could do a lot of things if I had a lot of things.” She wrapped it around his arm. “Now hold still.” He waited patiently while she strapped up his arm. Near the end, she cut up the middle of the reminder of the sleeve then wound the two sections in different directions around his arm and tied it off. “Nice.” He flexed his arm then winced again. “Ouch.” “It’s going to hurt,” she said. “I think I worked that out already.” Standing up, Isles cut the remaining sleeve off and then shrugged back into the now sleeveless uniform, but she left it unzipped so that the phaser and compad at her waist were within quick and easy reach. The knife she slid back into the scabbard inside the top of her boot. “Do you know where we are?” Thrower squinted into the gloom. “In some side tunnel off the main water shaft, which means it leads onto one of the levels.” She glanced briefly down at him while she retrieved the compad from the belt at her waist. “Which isn’t good news.” “Why?” Was that something in the shadows? He reached for the phaser at his own waist. Swinging around, Isles peered into the gloom as well. “What’s wrong?” “I thought I saw something…” There was nothing there, he saw, when he blinked several times. “It’s nothing.” She looked intently at him for several seconds, and he felt a chill go through him. He knew exactly what she was thinking. Am I starting to hallucinate? Isles’s gaze fell to the phaser in his hand, and Thrower immediately slid it back onto his belt, half expecting her to ask him to hand it over–which he wasn’t about to do. Being unarmed in the middle of this hellhole was something that wasn’t going to happen, uh-uh, no way. Instead, she looked back down at the compad and pursed her lips. “There’re no prisoners in the close vicinity, anyway. That’s the good news.” “What’s the bad?” He tried to ignore the throbbing of his arm and thigh. “We’ve washed down quite a long way through several levels. We could be anywhere in the depths of the prison.” Silence ticked past for several seconds as Thrower digested this latest information. “Any idea how far down?” “The water tunnel should lead out into a minor Environmental shaft from which the water, ventilation, sewerage and other pipes meet and the contents distributed throughout the Level. On the wall of the Environmental shaft will be written the Level.” “That’s good. I guess.” “Alternately, we could meet some prisoners and the color of their clothes will let us know what Level we’re in as well.” “That’s not so good, and that doesn’t need guessing.” “Why, Thrower, you do have a sense of humor.” Holding the compad loosely, she extended her hand down to him. “Grab hold.” “I’m fine.” “Just do it.”

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Placing his hand in her’s, Thrower was surprised when she pulled him easily to his feet. About to comment, he stopped as the ground beneath them trembled, the water near their feet splashing. A dull, muffled roar echoed down the tunnel, a roar that made his blood almost freeze. “Bearcat,” he breathed. “How could it have gotten in?” Isles looked down at her compad again. “It might be a Monack.” “Is there any sign of prisoners?” “No.” “Then that sound is a bearcat.” “How could it get down here?” “The heating shaft, the dome was broken,” he reminded her. “That’s an entrance.” She pursed her lips. “True. But it’s a hell of a long way down.” “We don’t know what other openings have occurred due to the quakes.” The roar sounded again, closer. “I think it prudent that we put some distance between us and that bearcat or whatever it is,” Isles stated. “We need to find out exactly where we are, and find a way out.” “Preferably not in the midst of prisoners or bearcats,” Thrower added. “You are such a comfort.” She started forward. “Do you know where we’re going?” He queried. “In the opposite direction to the bearcat.” “Good choice.” They moved cautiously through the tunnel, careful not to slip and fall back into the water that flowed not far from their boots. Time passed before they finally came to a heavy door. It was broken in half, and the water flowed through it and spilled out into the room beyond. Looking through the opening over Isles’s shoulder, Thrower saw that another pipe blowing cold air lay brokenly through another wall, and he guessed it was the ventilation tunnel. Thank God the other two tunnels were still intact, because one of them just had to be the sewerage. Instead of going into the main control system in the centre of the room, it arched down and disappeared into the floor. The door on the opposite side of the room was closed. Stepping over the broken bottom of the door, Isles walked carefully around the control system, which now lay silent, her boots sloshing through the water that was collecting on the floor. Moving over to the closed door, she titled her head back to read a sign. “Well, hell.” Turning around, she eyed Thrower. “Level Eighteen.” He felt his stomach lurch. “You’re kidding.” “I wish. This Level has some very naughty boys and girls, Thrower. We might as well be wading in the sewerage.” “But they haven’t come through here.” “Yet. Maybe not.” Studying the compad, she added, “No prisoners near here, anyway. Not in the immediate vicinity.” Relief made his shoulders sag.

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“Of course, they wouldn’t be near here because this shaft is in the middle of the Level walks, and smaller pipes come from this big pipe.” She pointed at the one big pipe that traveled up from the control system through the roof. “And another pipe goes below.” She pointed to the floor. “What’s on the other side of that door?” “Maintenance tunnels.” “Then let’s take them up to the higher levels and get out of here.” Without a word, she turned back to the door and tried the handle. It didn’t budge, and she put more force into it. Finally, she threw all her weight against it. “Stuck,” she said. “Crap!” “Here, let me try.” Sloshing through the water, he placed his hand on the handle and winked at her. “Let a man handle it.” She rolled her eyes. Thrower tried. He swore, he pushed, he pulled and finally he kicked the door in frustration. “So glad I have a man around.” Isles palmed her phaser. “Stand aside.” “You’re going to waste power? We might need it for what’s on the other side.” “I’m just going to blow the door handle.” The phaser fire blew the handle off, and slowly the heavy door swung open. Tensed in case escaped prisoners rushed them, Thrower could only gape at the buckled iron blocking the door securely. “You’re kidding,” he said. Isles attempted to move it with his help, but the metal was stuck fast right across the door. It was as though the other side of the room had collapsed against it, securely locking the control system inside. “Guess that’s it.” Swinging around on her heel, Isles sloshed back through the water. “Where are you going?” Thrower asked. “Back down the tunnel to find another way out.” Not liking the option but with no other choice, Thrower followed her. This time he kept his phaser in hand in case the bearcat was close. They hadn’t gone far down the tunnel when the ground shook beneath them, and the metal above them cracked. Fully expecting it to be more of the creatures, they started to run. The ground shook and part of the tunnel collapsed ahead of them, but even as it collapsed, part of another tunnel appeared to their left. With no other choice, they veered into it as clods of dirt and bits of metal fell to the ground behind them. Partway down the new tunnel, they turned back to see nothing but darkness. “Bloody hell,” Isles swore. “The tunnel is blocked!” “It capsized behind us, Isles,” Thrower snapped. His thigh hurt like the very devil now, and he was really irritable. She didn’t bother to reply. Instead, she flicked on her torch and trained it down the new tunnel. It was a dirt tunnel, and moved straight off into the darkness. Even as he stood behind her, Thrower knew there was no real choice. They had to walk into the darkness, because there was no other way to go. Moodily, he followed her as she moved cautiously forward.

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The way was straight, but Isles suddenly stopped and trained the light on the ground. “What?” Thrower shook his head as his vision blurred slightly. “Tire tracks.” Hope flared inside him. “Mining tunnels?” “And too close to the prison. This must be one of those mining tunnels that have destabilized the planet.” He pushed past her. “Tires mean there must be a vehicle somewhere, and if we find it, we’ll make better progress. It also means a way out of here.” “Wait up, Thrower.” She grabbed at him. Snatching his arm from her grasp, he glared down at her. “Now what?” Her expression was unreadable. “You’re walking into the dark. We don’t know what else is ahead, and need to proceed with caution.” “In case you haven’t realized it, Isles, everything down here is dangerous. Now come on, or I’ll go without you.” “I’m the senior commanding officer here, Thrower. You don’t give me orders. I give them.” He wanted to hit her then. Stupid little female telling me what to do! He actually contemplated it, his hand rising just a fraction, but suddenly he realized what he was thinking and recoiled in horror. God, I’ve never hit a woman in my life! What am I doing? But he knew, and by the wary expression in Isles’s eyes, so did she. The withdrawal was starting. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. The silence stretched between them, and then she said softly, “I’ve changed my mind. You go ahead and I’ll follow.” “The dark—“ “I’ll shine the light ahead.” Shame filled him. “Isles, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Isles simply looked at him. “We’re in this together, Thrower. But I still want you ahead of me.” But not behind me. With a short nod, he did as bidden. They continued down the tunnel in a heavy silence, the easy camaraderie of earlier between them now strained.

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Chapter Four Underground Level Eighteen In The Tunnels…Somewhere As they strode back along the tunnel, they suddenly came to a fork. “Hang on.” Isles looked at the two tunnels. “Which one do we take?” “The one that angles upwards.” “And we find out that how?” He bit his tongue at the irritation in his voice. His very skin prickled with impatience, and annoyance was bubbling so close to the surface. And my goddamn thigh hurts while we stand here trying to make up our goddamn minds! As usual, Isles’s pretty face remained calm. “By taking one of them.” I’d like to shake that calmness from her! Thrower glanced away, immediately regretting his thoughts and hoping Isles didn’t read anything in his expression. “After you,” she said pleasantly. Obviously she had read his expression. Maybe. Or she was just continuing to be cautious. Shame, irritation and a feeling of helpless rage at his own addiction, of which he hadn’t been aware–or chose to ignore–created mixed sensations inside him. But he held his tongue and turned down the tunnel. “Oh, one more thing, Thrower.” “Yeah?” “Give me your phaser.” He swung around to face her incredulously. “My phaser?” She held her hand out. “We’re in the depths of this hellhole facing all kinds of hellish creatures–and I don’t just mean the prisoners–and you want me to give you my only weapon?” “You’re becoming unpredictable, Thrower.” “You mean you don’t trust me.” “You’ve got it.” Her cat-like eyes gazed calmly into his own eyes. “The phaser, Thrower.” He couldn’t believe she was really asking him to give up his only source of protection. “I’m all right, Isles.” “I saw that look in your eyes seconds ago, Thrower. You wanted to do me a bit of damage.” Her slender fingers waggled. “Give me your phaser.” “I thought you said we were in this together?” His nostrils flared angrily. “We are. I won’t leave you alone. But I also don’t want you to blow me apart during our little journey together. The phaser, Thrower. Now.” Looking down at her, he thought how small she was, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder. She had curves in all the places he liked on a woman, her hips and breasts. But she was still slim, still so much smaller. How had she ever reached the rank of second-in-command?

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Probably her calmness under pressure. But how had she handled direct confrontation with someone so much bigger than herself? “What would you do if I refused, Isles?” He asked quietly, even as some distant part of himself gaped in horror. “I’d have to take it from you,” she replied evenly, not revealing her thoughts by even the flicker of an eyelash. “And I’d hate to have to hurt you.” He laughed outright, the sound grating even to his own ears. “You? Hurt me? You’re a little small for that, Isles.” One fine brow arched over her dark eyes. “One would think so. This is the last time, Thrower. Give me your phaser.” Seconds ticked past while he contemplated handing her the phaser, or simply making her fight for it. A fight would be good. To feel that soft little body struggling against mine, to take control of her. Show her who is boss. Show her who is stronger, the more dominant of us both. He could just about feel it, the picture already in his minds eye. Those soft breasts against his chest, those slim legs tangled with his as she fought him and finally he bore her to the ground. The screams for mercy resounding in the tunnel coming from between those full, plump lips. He actually found himself raising his hand, reaching out for her. The sight of his hand was enough to make the hot thoughts cool abruptly, and he was about to stutter a mortified apology when a hand suddenly fisted into his shirt and Isles pushed against him with her body at the same time she snaked her heel behind his leg and snapped it back into the curve of his knee. Unbalanced and taken by surprise, Thrower fell backwards, the only thing preventing his head from hitting the floor Isles’s hold in his shirt. Maintaining the grip on his shirt with ease, she reached down with her free hand and yanked the phaser from his hold. Then she dropped him like a hot brick. Lying in the dust, shame crawling all through him, he could only gaze mutely up at her. Slipping his phaser into her belt, she maintained hold of her own phaser and studied him with a lazy regard that was at odds with her stance. Her legs were braced slightly apart, her free arm swinging loose. Not once did her gaze leave his. She was waiting to see what was going to happen next. “I’m sorry, Isles,” Thrower managed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t normally…I don’t…” “It’s the Styx withdrawal,” she stated. “I know it’s not your normal behavior.” The ache in his thigh was intensifying, but he remained where he was, on his back with his hands braced in the dirt either side of his body. “Now what?” “Now you get up and we continue down this tunnel and see what’s up ahead.” “I’m surprised you’re not going to shoot me,” he said bluntly. “I’m becoming a danger you don’t need.” “I don’t leave my guards behind.” She stepped back. “Let’s move.” Trying to hide the grimace of pain, Thrower used the wall for support as he sat up and then pushed to his feet. Once standing he looked down at Isles. Even after what he’d done, or had been thinking of doing, she still hadn’t shot him. She was either very stupid, or very compassionate. Or stupidly compassionate.

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“Whatever you’re thinking, Thrower, don’t try anything,” she warned. “I was just thinking that you’re not what I expected.” A shadow of a smile curved her lips. “People seldom are. Now come on, let’s move it. I want out of this place and up to the surface.” There was nothing else to say. Turning, he started walking down the tunnel again, trying not to limp. Nothing further was said for a time, and they continued onwards in silence. ***** Lucia watched Thrower trying not to limp. Yep, that thigh of his had to really be hurting by now. The Styx was depleting in his system, and he was starting to go into withdrawal more seriously. She’d seen the rage in his eyes, and knew that in those minutes he would have jumped her, had actually been contemplating taking her down. Even raping her. She’d seen the heat in his eyes as well, the way his gaze had dropped to her breasts and lower. Fear had no place in her feelings right then. She didn’t fear Thrower. She had no doubt she could take him on in a fight and win. No doubt at all. But once the Styx got full control of him, he’d believe himself invincible, and then there’d be trouble, because he would fight like hell and madness always lent strength. She might be forced to kill him to save herself, and that was something she didn’t even want to contemplate. No, she had to see Thrower through the whole withdrawal, and she had no idea how bad it would get. And she had to get them up to the surface somehow, and to safety. Except where was the surface? With tunnels collapsing behind them, bearcats and unknown creatures and prisoners roaming around, there was no telling where was safe and where was danger. It was turning into a really nice day for a stroll. Mentally, she rolled her eyes. ***** Zurin Five Penitentiary, Andromeda Galaxy, 3033C.E. Underground Level Two, Offices Civilian Area, Unmonitored Feverishly, Manya tried to re-establish contact with Grinlin. There was no answer, just as there hadn’t been for the last six hours. It was getting late. Too late. Chewing her nail, she gazed almost blindly around at the broken monitors on the cracked walls. There was a way off this cursed planet, she’d ensured that, but first she had to get to Grinlin. She wasn’t going to leave without him. Getting up, she crossed to the cupboard on the side wall and slid the door open. Inside were several small bags of Styx, a couple of reefer, and three phasers. Pocketing them all into her lab coat, she also added several torches. She’d come too far now to allow a simple thing as quakes take her from her goal, the goal she’d been working towards for the last year. That of releasing Prednal, her shape-shifter lover, imprisoned in the bowels of the prison planet.. Only Grinlin was down on Level Six somewhere, along with his two cohorts. But no fear, she was more than equipped to get down there, get him and go further down and get

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Prednal. Of course, if things hadn’t gone all to hell and the scientists fled, then she would have had more time. But time had run out. Crossing to the elevator door, she placed her hand on the single scanner and the door slid open. Unlike the prison below, the entrances and exits up here were not as restricting. And why should they be? Hitting the down button, she braced herself as the elevator lurched. This isn’t the prison up here. We’re not even monitored, more fool to Duran Corporation, but good for me. The elevator whined, lurched, then the lights above the door started to flash and the door slid open. She was now on Level Three, and the elevator wouldn’t go any further down. Swearing softly, she hit the descend button several times, but the elevator wouldn’t move. Obviously the cables below had snapped. It was the stairs down to the lower Levels, then. Getting out of the elevator, she went across the corridor to the door in the side wall, and went down the stairs. It wasn’t good going. Many of the railings hung lopsidedly, a testament to the damage done by the quakes. Broken light bulbs swung from the ceiling, suspended by hanging wiring. Sparks issued off the wires as they snapped. Several bulbs still lit the way, but their brightness fluctuated as power threatened to cut out altogether. Manya was half tempted to go back up and get off the planet, but she reminded herself what was at stake, and continued downwards into the uncertain and dangerous depths. Halfway down, she found the way blocked by debris and broken metal. Cursing, she turned and retraced her steps. She had to find another way down to Level Six, and that meant using the other stairs. ***** Underground, Level Eighteen In The Tunnels…Somewhere They were in a mine tunnel somewhere. Lucia knew it as soon as they came across the overturned, two-seater, mintun rider. It didn’t take a genius to see that the two dead pinned beneath it were engineers. Everything was still, the mintun a wreck beneath the heavy boulder that had fallen from above and crushed it just as the unfortunate engineers drove under it. The quake had claimed more lives. “I wonder if they knew anything about the instability of the planet before coming down here?” Thrower queried. “They would have had to, which makes it even stranger that they came this far down.” She frowned. “And it worries me that they were mining so close to the prison foundations.” “The tunnels have bisected so much of the planet already, it’s amazing they didn’t collapse part of the prison.” Thrower knelt down beside the bloodied bits of bodies sticking out from the wreck. Leaving him investigating their pockets for any identification–not a chore she wanted herself–Lucia crouched down to peer through the windowless ruin of the door, which now hung open. On the back bench was just what she was looking for, a pouch containing water bottles and food.

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Carefully she managed to wedge herself sideways through the cracked door, grateful for the suit she wore as it snagged on a sharp piece of metal. If that had been her skin, she’d have a nasty laceration to match the numerous scratches and bruises she’d already sustained. Stretching out her arm a little further, she managed to grab the handle of the pouch and draw it to her. Backing out of the mintun rider, she was startled to find Thrower waiting behind her, his face expressionless. Admonishing herself for being careless, she opened the pouch and investigated the contents. Two full water bottles and two packets of dried fruit. Yummy. But it wouldn’t last long. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to survive too long on the meager food. Slipping the strap of the pouch over her shoulder, she settled it across her back. “Want me to carry it?” Thrower offered. “I’m fine.” She nodded at the silver chips in his hand. “Who are the engineers?” “Not engineers.” He flipped the chips at her and she caught them. “Scientists.” “Scientists? Down here?” Frowning, Isles studied the discs. Prison guards had bronze I.D. chips, miners had black, civilians had white and scientists had silver, and these chips were definitely silver. “Yeah, seems odd.” Thrower glanced around. “Do you think they were studying the Styx or something?” “Engineers would scout out anything unusual that miners found, and the scientists would study the samples. There’s no need for scientists to be down here.” She glanced at the bodies. “Anything else? Any clues?” “Only this.” He held up a key. Taking it, Lucia scratched her head. “A key is a bit old-fashioned. Why would they need a key? Everything on this planet is electronically scanned to open.” He shrugged. “Oh well…” Giving an identical shrug, she pocketed the key. “I guess we might as well continue onwards. Hopefully this mining tunnel will lead to an exit shaft.” She pulled a water bottle from the pouch and handed it to him. “Go easy on the drinking. We don’t know how long we’ll be stuck down here.” His hand trembled slightly as he took the water bottle, but he only took a small drink before handing it back to her. Replacing it in the pouch, she started forward, keeping pace with him. But she ensured that there was at least three foot between them, enough room to leap away if he flipped out and went psycho on her. In the distance the sound of rumbling could be heard before subsiding again. The earth beneath her feet trembled but nothing big happened, for which she was thankful. If things remained steady, they might find a way out unscathed. At least the worm-like creatures didn’t seem to be this far down. Maybe they were only on the upper level. An hour passed of solid trudging, and she was about to suggest to Thrower that they rest, mainly for his leg though she wouldn’t say that, when a low-pitched throbbing sound caught her attention. “Hear that?” Thrower cocked his head. “Someone’s coming.” “Not someone, something,” Lucia corrected him.

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“No, it’s someone. Someone big.” Sweat rolled down from his temple, and his eyes were showing the whites around his dark pupils when he turned to face her. “Someone big is coming.” Oh great. Now’s a good time for you to start flipping out on me. Lucia put on her calmest face and used her most reasonable tone. “Thrower, whatever is coming is not a breathing being. It actually sounds more like… I don’t know. Machinery?” “It’s someone. I can hear them breathing.” His chest started heaving and he stepped back against the earthen wall. “Okay, even if it is someone–and I’m saying it isn’t– hey may be as lost as we are.” She held out her hand. “But that’s a good idea. You stay against the wall and we’ll let whatever it is get past.” “But they won’t just go past us.” His eyes started to get a wildness to them, and he kept looking from the right to the left of Isles. “They’ll kill us. They’ll kill us dead.” “Well, yes, if they kill us we will be dead, Thrower. But I’m telling you whatever is coming won’t hurt us.” I hope. The low-pitched sound was deeper. Closer. Suddenly Thrower pushed away from the wall and started running down the tunnel. Towards the noise. “Oh, wonderful!” Lucia took off after him. “Thrower! Thrower! Damn it, Thrower, come back! You’re heading for the noise!” He didn’t answer, but he did gain speed, and how the hell he managed that with his gammy leg was beyond Lucia. She just thanked goodness that she could keep up with him. Until he sprinted even faster, then she started to really push herself. Okay, she’d just found out a new side-effect of Styx–Thrower was able to run faster on a gammy leg. Yay for him. Unfortunately, she found it harder to keep up with him. The tunnel curved, and he was lost to sight for a few seconds. When she rounded the bend, her phaser in hand, she saw him disappearing around another bend. “Thrower!” She yelled. “Damn it, Thrower! I order you to stop!” And wouldn’t you know it, she fumed to herself. He didn’t even falter. The low-pitched noise was now a full blown roar, and the ground beneath her feet trembled. Whatever was coming was big, all right. Big and noisy and she had not a clue what it was. Until she rounded the bend and saw it. A big machine coming straight down the tunnel, a cable attaching it to the top of a line that ran along the tunnel roof. The front of it held a huge drill used for boring into the dirt to form new tunnels. It was a bore machine for bore mining. The drill was turning, and the deadly sharp tip coated in a rusty-looking color. But where was Thrower? How could he get past the ore machine when it took up the whole width of the tunnel? About to turn and run herself, Lucia heard the familiar rumble of a quake, and she glanced over her shoulder to see dirt spew out of the dimness beyond. Part of the roof caved in even as she looked, effectively blocking the way back. So there was no way forward, and no way back. Backing away from the bore machine, she tried to spot Thrower, and then she saw him. Somehow he had managed to get up onto the bore machine and pull himself up onto the top of the flat area, where he pulled and wrenched at the cable that led up to the electrical lead in the roof overhead. Screaming obscenities, he was almost frothing at the mouth.

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How the hell had he got up there? And how the hell am I going to get past that thing? It rolled along on big tires, the drill turning with deadly intent. There was no way Isles wanted to get on board with Thrower going nuts, for the danger was that they could get into a fight and one of them end up under the wheels… Under the wheels. Peering at the ground beneath the wheels, Lucia squinted in the dimness, then flashed the torchlight under the bore machine. There was a three foot gap beneath the ground and the chassis of the bore machine. If she laid down and it went over top of her, she’d be all right. Then she could figure out what to do about Thrower. The bore machine drew closer and she wasted no time. Aligning herself so that the wheels would pass either side of her without crushing her, she laid down on her back and waited. The ground shook beneath her, the roar almost deafening, she held her breath and shut her eyes as the dust rose around her. Then the bore machine was on top of her, the hot blast of the air hitting her full in the face, the dust choking her. The wheels passed either side of her body, the bits of grit popping under the tires. The smell of rubber was strong, and the whirring of the drill squealed in her ears. The bottom of the chassis was an odd shading of yellow and rust. Then the bore machine passed over her and she was left lying in the dirt, coughing and thanking God she’d come out of this one alive. Of course, she had yet to take on Thrower, but hey, one job at a time. Rolling up onto her feet, she wiped her streaming eyes and retrieving the water bottle from the pouch, she took a swig of water and swallowed, thought what the hell and took another mouthful. Recapping the bottle, she dropped it back in the pouch, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, flicked the dust from her hair, straightened her shoulders, and started walking after the bore machine. And there was Thrower, she saw, still yanking on the cable and swearing. Spittle flew from his mouth, and he was screaming about some bastard trying to kill him with a hand drill. Boy, did he have it wrong, she thought wryly. That was more than a hand drill on that machine. Now how was she going to get Thrower to come down? Once the bore machine hit the collapsed tunnel, it was going to start boring through. It would keep boring until it eventually came to the prison walls and bored straight through that, too. Okay, now it’s not funny. Isles had to stop the bore machine somehow. There was one way…Stopping in the middle of the tunnel, she aimed her phaser at the cable attaching it to the electrical lead at the ceiling. “Thrower!” she yelled. “Get down!” It wasn’t really a surprise when he kept right on tugging at the thick cable. “Thrower! I’m going to blast it! Stand back!” He started kicking at the cable. Any second, she expected him to start gnawing on it he looked so rabid.

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Either way, there wasn’t a whole lot of choice. The man risked getting an electrical jolt, but there was no other way that Lucia could see of stopping the bore machine from continuing until it broke through the prison walls and released the prisoners from one of the worst Levels. Taking a deep breath, she aimed at the cable near the wall and fired the phaser. Sparks flew, there was a loud crackling, and Thrower was blown clean off the back of the bore machine. He hit the wall and fell in a heap. The smell of burning lines was in the air, the cable fell to the top of the bore machine and it thundered to a halt, hiccupped, gave a last spurt of power and the engine died. The drill squealed to a stop. Running to where Thrower lay, Lucia was relieved to see him breathing. Kneeling down beside him, she felt for his pulse and found it strong and steady. One of his palms was a little burnt, the skin red, but he’d live. Standing beside his inert body, she sighed. She had to wait until he woke up now, and hopefully that wouldn’t be too long. If he didn’t, she’d have to carry him, but she’d give him the chance to wake up himself first. Besides, it gave her a breather and him a chance for the pain in his thigh to ease. Meanwhile, she’d have a look over the bore drill and see if there was anything useful on it she could use. Pulling herself easily up the back of the bore machine, she stepped up onto the barrel and looked down at it. It was a compact machine, with no machinery items hanging off it that she could use as a weapon. Her gaze drifted to the drill at the front. Massive, the tip of it rustcolored, streaky… Frowning, she peered at it through the gloom. There was something on the side of it, something flapped a little. Moving across the barrel, she dropped down to the ground on the other side and studied the drill closer. The rust was dried blood. And the part flapping on it was a piece of white material. The kind scientists wore. What was going on down in these tunnels? ***** Underground Level Eighteen Research Station One Watching the Juzzaar, Yeum gritted his teeth. His vision blurred, but he was able to maintain control. Of the four of them–the Juzzaar, the Monack, the Karatzin and himself, the human, he was the one most able to maintain control. That made it scary, but as long as the others still weren’t quite nuts, he figured he was all right. He could make a break for it later. After all, he knew the signs of when the others were going psychotic. Not that he’d be much better. They hadn’t gotten their morning dose of Styx…or reefer. Or the mix of both. Whether that was part of the experiment…well, who knew. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d been left to go through the withdrawals while it was all documented. Hemla, the Karatzin, laughed as he kicked the remains of the dead scientist. He had donned the lab coat and looked bloody ridiculous, to Yeum’s way of thinking. The reptilian being looked like a snake dressed up in dolls clothes. At least there was no danger of him releasing the poison substance from his skin.

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Prednal, however…Yeum slid his gaze to the shape shifter. Though small of stature, the shape shifter was strong enough to tear a man limb-from-limb. He was in a state of excitement now, his normally stone grey skin a vibrant blue and green. Prednal’s dull yellow eyes were round, an unholy light of excitement and bloodlust gleaming in their depths. “We’re free!” He grated. “We have been for about an hour,” Arcor, the giant Juzzaar, pointed out. Yeum wondered how the Monack would take Arcor speaking to him like this, but suspected the shape shifter wouldn’t say much to the hulking humanoid with the pale gold skin. Arcor’s light-sensitive eyes were hidden behind the prison-issue dark glasses, so it was always hard to know what he was thinking. “And it is time we moved upward and find the remainder of these bastards.” Prednal looked towards the tunnel opening. “The scientists in their mintun rider went this way.” “Then this must be the way out,” Yeum stated, stepping forward. Discarding the lab coat, Hemla swung away from playing with the dead body and quirked an eyebrow at Prednal. “We go this way,” Prednal agreed. They moved out from the doorway of the room with the holding cells and the dead bodies of the two unlucky scientists who’d been caught by the power failure that allowed the release of their experimental subjects. Packing their equipment in a hurry, they’d failed to notice the electricity in the bars disappear, much to their detriment. Linked by the common factor of having been the four experimental subjects, bonded together in their shared pain and hatred of the scientists, they now stayed together for survival and revenge. But Yeum had no doubt that when push came to shove, he’d be first to die. Or then again, maybe last. After all, he was no threat to the stronger species. His three companions were all dominate males, while he was a mere human with no great strength, poisonous substance or shape shifting abilities. Nope, his lacking just might be his saving grace until they were free. Right now he needed the other three, so he was going to stay sweet and biddable and make use of their combined skills until the way was clear for him to get away from the planet. He followed the others as they started down the tunnel in the direction the mintun rider had taken just an hour ago. ***** Underground, Level Eighteen Mining Tunnel Thrower squinted up into the dimness. His thigh throbbed, his hand felt like it was on fire, and he felt like he was almost hung-over. There was also something crawling on his skin. Lifting his arm hurriedly, he couldn’t see anything, but he could feel it. Crawling under his skin now. He stared at his hand, bringing it almost up to his nose, but his skin remained unmoving. Bloody unbelievable. It must be part of the withdrawal, surely? “I see you’ve finished your beauty sleep.”

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Rising up onto his elbows, he looked in the direction of the voice to see Isles leaning back against the… bore machine? He had a faint memory of something to do with the bore machine, but couldn’t quite remember what it was. “Isles? What happened?” She looked at him over the small slate she held. “You flipped out and took on this bore machine.” He stared at the broken cable lying over the side to the ground. “I broke the cable? You’re kidding!” “No, you’re kidding, Thrower. I blasted it and you got a shock from it.” “Accidents happen.” He got shakily to his feet. “No accident.” He looked at her this time in astonishment. “You knew I’d get shocked and still you did it?” “Of course.” Looking back down at the slate in her hands, she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “But you were as mad as a cut snake, so I figured it wouldn’t worry you all that much. Besides, the bore machine was heading for the prison.” “And your point is?” His legs felt wobbly as he took a few experimental steps. “My point is the bore machine would have drilled straight through the prison walls of Level Eighteen and allowed the prisoners entry into the tunnels and shafts. That is something I couldn’t allow.” “Good point.” The ground titled under his boots, and he braced one hand on the wall. Isles glanced up at him once more. “You don’t look crash hot, but your pulse is fine. You’ll feel better in a little bit. Have a drink of water.” She crossed the distance between them and handed him the water bottle from the pouch on her back. Taking it with a nod of thanks, he took a good swallow, but knowing they needed to be careful, he recapped it and handed it back. “Want some fruit?” She held out an opened bag of the dried fruit. His stomach roiled at the sight of it, but he figured he could use the sugar to get him started properly, so he took a few pieces with another nod of thanks. Legs braced apart, Isles tapped the slate. “I found this on the bore machine. It’s a slate map.” “Of the tunnels?” “Yes.” “Thank God!” Eagerly he looked down at the map. “So where are we?” “I have absolutely no idea.” Calmly she handed him the slate map. “We could be anywhere.” Taking the slate map, Thrower studied the tunnels. They wound through the ground and around the prison, some of them alarmingly close to the prison walls. There were hundreds of tunnels. “Well, this is Level Eighteen.” He tapped the slate map. “But are we on the left or right of it, back or front? Oh yeah, one more thing…” “What?”

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“The tunnel behind us caved in, and I’ve heard the distant sound of other tunnels maybe giving way. Or mining shafts.” “Mining shafts?” “This is a mining tunnel, so a shaft is somewhere nearby, and that means a possible way up.” “Oh.” Thrower handed the slate map back to her. “This is hopeless Isles. We don’t know here we are.” He felt a prick of panic at the sudden realization that they were really lost in the underbelly of the Prison. Or planet. Both. Whatever. Isles placed the slate map carefully into the pouch and re-slung it onto her back. “But we may find out later. Meanwhile, we can only go onwards.” Thrower looked around at the dim lighting. The earthen walls seemed closer, somehow, the smell of the dirt strong in his nostrils. He’d never had a problem with closed in places before, but that had been when there was a clear way out. Be it through enemy fire or not, he always knew the way out. He hadn’t a clue of the exits here. We could die, wandering around aimlessly miles below the surface. His hands started to shake, but when he met Isles’s steady gaze, he clenched his fists by his side. “Onward and upward,” he agreed. “Mmm.” She turned and started moving, glancing back over her shoulder as she did so. “Walk beside me, Thrower and keep me company on this pleasant stroll.” It never ceased to amaze him how cool she could be in such a dire situation. His skin crawled, the walls seemed to be closing in, and he was getting the heebie-jeebies. So he sought to divert his attention. “Isles, seeing as how we’re wandering around in the underground, I don’t see any reason not to get to know each other a bit more.” She glanced sideways at him. “Is that so?” “Where are you from?” “You first.” Thrower squinted at the gathering darkness along the sides of the walls. Don’t think about the darkness. “I actually lived on Mirtz, in the middle of the Andromeda Galaxy.” “Ah, that would explain why you fought in the wars there. Mirtz was right in the center of the war.” “You know about that?” “I know about all the guards under my command.” She studied the way before them with pursed lips. “Or thought I did.” “That’s a thinly-veiled reference to my taking Styx, isn’t it?” Annoyance filled him. “Let’s just say I know more about you now.” “You’re no angel yourself, I’ll bet.” He glared at her profile. How someone so pretty could be so irritating amazed him. She was like an attractive mosquito. Tiny and bites. “Never claimed to be. So, have you been home to visit your parents before coming down on this Tour?” “I last saw them three months ago.” “They’re well?” He swatted at a big bug that skittered past his face. “Fine. They want me to come home. They think prison work is demeaning.” He swatted at another bug.

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“Mmm.” “What about you?” “I was home four months ago.” “Family?” “Parents and brothers. My parents are proud I’m second-in-command at one of the largest prison centers.” “Figures.” Thrower looked down at the crawling sensation on his hand and shuddered as a nasty, black bug tried to get under the opening of his sleeve. Quickly he slapped it away. Isles looked down at his hand then back up to his face. “You all right?” “Don’t these bloody bugs annoy you?” He shuddered. “I hate bugs.” “Really?” She looked around then back at him. “I’m not being bothered by them.” “Yes, you are.” His eyes widened as he spotted a huge black beetle crawling up the back of her suit. “Shit!” Isles just managed to stay on her feet as he frantically brushed the beetle off her back. He couldn’t believe she wasn’t bothered by the bugs. He could hear them, their chittering and the clacking of their legs and shells behind him in the dimness. Wildly he swung around, searching the tunnel behind them. “Thrower, there’s nothing there,” Isles said softly. “There’re bugs, Isles! Bloody big ones! Look!” He pointed to one that came from the darkness and scuttled up to him. Frantically he stamped on it, hearing the crack of the shell and smelling the sharp tang of beetle guts. Stepping in front of him, she held his gaze with her own. “Thrower, you are having hallucinations brought on by withdrawal from the Styx. Do you understand me? There is nothing there. No bugs. No beetles. No creepy-crawlies of any kind. It’s just an hallucination.” “Are you sure?” Sweat trickled down his temple, and he wiped it away with a shaking hand. “Oh God! Isles, there’s one in your hair! “No.” She grabbed his hand when he reached out to swipe at it. “Watch me. There’s nothing there.” Horrified, he watched as she placed her hand on her hair. The beetle crawled up on her hand and little pincers buried themselves deep into her flesh. “Isles! Your hand!” “Nothing there, Thrower. Take a deep breath.” Christ, can’t she see the strips of flesh the bug is pulling from her hand? Wildly he tore his gaze from the sight, only to see another beetle scurrying up under her sleeveless suit. It slid down the front, and seconds later a little spurt if blood appeared out of the top of the material. The other beetle had scuttled down her hand and arm, and across to her cheek where it started to feed upon her flesh. “Isles!” He swiped out at her, and she dodged him. “Thrower, no! There is nothing there!” She lowered her tone. “Look at me. I am all right. You are all right. Just turn around and start walking.” He tried. Some rational part of him agreed yes, it’s a hallucination. You’re in withdrawal. But the bugs sound was so real, the tangy odor of their spilt guts as he stepped on them so real,

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the sight of them so real. When one skittered up the front of his jacket and up his neck, the pincers clawing at his mouth, he screamed and slapped at it with his hand, trying to rip it off his face, but it had hold of him, and no matter how he pulled, it hung on grimly. And more skittered up his legs. Swinging around, he saw Isles just standing there, her eyes concerned. And bugs crawling all over her. He snapped. Grabbing her hand, he hauled her after him. “Run! For God’s sake, run. Isles! They’re everywhere!” He was surprised when she simply ran with him. Half expecting her to fight him, he felt relief wash through him as she ran beside him easily, her steps swinging loose and easy. Hand-in-hand they ran down the tunnel. There was no pain from his thigh, but his skin crawled, and he could hear the bugs, so hungry, so ravenous for his flesh, scurrying behind him. He could imagine them coming along the walls, the ceiling and the floor. ****** Underground Level Six The Garrison The Garrison was a mess. Water from the pool swept through the corridor, private belongings littered the floor, and everything was just…a mess. Picking her way through the wreckage, Manya slipped on some debris and swore as she gashed her leg on the sharp metal prong sticking out of the wall. Her pupils dilated, and claws shot from her fingertips as her half Monack side fought to get out. But as usual, her human side was stronger, subduing the predator. Coming to the Catwalk, she walked beneath it and passed the enormous floor-to-ceiling wall of monitors that normally displayed images from cameras throughout the prison. Only one of the monitors was working–or trying to. It kept flickering, the picture unclear. It seemed to be of some transport room or something, but she couldn’t make out the figures or what was happening, for thick lines kept running through it. Disregarding it, she continued to the Control room. She had other concerns on her mind apart from non-effective monitors. Finally reaching the doorway to the Control room, she stepped in and glanced around. It looked like a disaster area. Wires, consoles, monitors…so much was damaged. Cautiously she looked up and her breath caught in her throat as she saw that a part of the A.I was missing from the cracked ceiling. Bits of it were still lit, indicating some control over certain areas. That had to be why the lights were still working in some places. And the infernal voice of Skipper was repeating over and over, “All Garrison personnel, please evacuate the facility immediately.” A boot caught her eyes, a leg encased in pink. A Level Seven, Pink Zone prisoner lay under the rubble near the far wall. Grinlin was a Level Seven. Manya’s gaze flickered around the room. He and his two cohorts had gotten free because she’d opened their cells using the controls from the unmonitored, civilian area. A code known only to a select few from the Duran Corporation. They were supposed to have found a way to Level Two using the directions she’d given them about the secret shaft. Stupid bastards had gotten themselves lost

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instead…or roamed around for God knew what reason. Probably trying to find rich pickings, thinking the guards were all gone. Carefully she studied the rubble, and it wasn’t long before she saw a severed Karatzin head emerging from beneath a heavy pipe. Okay, the head and legs were a distance apart, so did that make it two of the prisoners? And where was Grinlin? He had to be there. Staying near the doorway, she squinted, trying to make out the myriad of shapes. Then she saw him, crumpled against the far corner of the room near the consoles. Or what had been the consoles. He was as dead as a door nail. “Idiot.” Manya frowned as she spotted the phaser burn in his forehead. “Shot by a guard? Possibly. The Tour that had been left down here. But where are they?” She restudied the partial wreck of the Control room, but could find no sign of the guards. Presuming they’d left before the partial cave-in, or were buried beneath it, she shrugged and stepped back out of the room. There was only one thing for it. Deep within the mining tunnels her lover was languishing in a cell. She had to get him out, kill his cohorts and flee the destructing planet with both him…and the little item that would ensure their wealth for the rest of their lives. Picking her way through the wreckage, she passed the wall of monitors outside the Control room and made her way to the Engine room. The sliding door was open, part of it blown outwards. It was easy to get through, and she crossed to the cupboards in the far wall. Amazingly, they were still intact. Sliding one open, she pushed aside the suits and reached to press a lever high up on the right. The wall slid back and she passed through it into the secret tunnel beyond. The prison should have insisted on every area being monitored. This secret tunnel bisected every Level of the prison. For anyone who knew of the tunnel, there was no level they couldn’t get onto, and because of that, it had been so very easy to get the Styx to Grinlin to plant for Thrower. Laughing softly to herself, she walked into the depths of the tunnel. Parts of it had suffered from the upheaval of the planet, but she was still able to climb over the debris and into the transport room that was used by the scientists to hide their mintun riders and high skimmers. Debating which one to use–the two-seater mintun rider or the four-seater skimmer, Manya decided on the skimmer. It would lull the other subjects to think they were coming, if Prednal didn’t kill them due to the withdrawals they would suffer, and give her time to kill them with the phasers. Also, if the tunnels were unable to be driven through, the skimmer would be perfect for going over the debris and holes. Getting into the skimmer, she strapped herself in and started it. It came to life with a roar, but settled into an almost silent hum as the power took in the engine. Lifting from the ground, she set it to manual so she could direct the height and speed, then turned it on the spot to face the opening in the far wall. Taking a deep breath, she refused to think of what might lie beyond apart from her lover and immense wealth, and flew the skimmer over to and through the opening, then into the tunnel beyond which snaked down gradually into the underbelly of the prison.

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Chapter Five Underground Level Eighteen Mining Tunnel Lucia allowed Thrower to tug her along. Seeing as they were already lost, and he wasn’t attacking her, it seemed to make sense to keep him by her side even if it did involve running. Fighting him and then trying to drag him around wasn’t going to get her anywhere, and at least they were going somewhere. Deeper into the planet. Well, so what? It wasn’t as though there was really anywhere else to go. For all she knew, they could be heading in the right direction. With the tunnels caving in and new openings appearing, it wasn’t as though the slate map was of any use. They ran down the tunnel, rounding the curves, and gradually Thrower slowed down. He glanced over his shoulder, then gradually drew to a stop. They were both breathing heavily, but Lucia looked at him warily. Thrower still held her hand in a tight grip, and he released it abruptly. Sweat beaded his brow, and he looked pale and sickly in the dim overhead light that flickered with power surges. “Isles.” “Thrower.” “What just happened?” She raised one brow. “You don’t remember?” “Something scared me. I know that…Bugs?” “You were seeing bugs, but there were no bugs.” “No bugs…” Closing his eyes, he ran one hand down his sweat-streaked face. “Oh God, Isles, I’m losing it!” “Hallucinations, Thrower. It’s to be expected.” She gave his shoulder a tentative pat. Dropping his hand, he looked at her hopelessly. “You need to leave me, Isles.” “No.” “I’m a danger to you, you know that.” “Thrower, we’re in danger everywhere we turn. You’re one of my guards and I’m not leaving you behind.” She squeezed his bicep, unsurprised at the bulge of muscle. “Now here, take a sip of water and have some dried fruit. You’ve used a lot of energy and need to replenish it.” Mutely he watched while she drew the water bottle from the pouch and one of the packets of dried fruit. There was a strange expression in his eyes when she proffered both to him, and she was uncertain whether he was about to say something or flip out again. He did neither. Instead, he laid his hand on her shoulder. “Thanks, Isles.” “For what?” “For staying beside me.” His smile was a ghost of its former taunting self. “Poor officer I’d be if I left my partner,” she joked, but the smile died on her lips when he leaned forward suddenly and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It was the briefest of touches, but with a tenderness that touched her.

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Pulling back, he took the bottle of water and dried fruit from her hand, holding her gaze as he did so. “I won’t forget this, Isles.” Caught by surprise by his gesture, she could only shrug and grin. “You can repay me with a meal in a fancy restaurant when we get out of here.” “Isles, if—“ “When.” “When we get out of here, you have the choice. I’ll even throw in flowers.” “Why, Thrower, you romantic, you.” Settling into an easy camaraderie, they sat down on the floor and leaned back against the wall of the tunnel, sipping at water and eating some of the dried fruit. Knowing Thrower’s leg was really paining him now, Isles decided they should rest for awhile. “You catch some sleep and I’ll keep watch,” she said. “Why don’t I take first watch?” She gave him a long look, and he sighed as he answered for her. “Because I might flip out while you’re asleep and kill you.” “And I need you alive to pay for a meal in a fancy restaurant,” she teased, trying to put him a little at ease. Closing his eyes, Thrower made himself as comfortable as he could and drifted off to sleep within minutes. Watching him, she noted how he tossed and muttered, the corner of his lips twitching, and a muscle in his cheek jumping. His hands shifted restlessly, and sweat continued to trickle from his hairline. Even in sleep, the withdrawal got to him. Studying him, Isles thought how good looking he was, something she hadn’t really noticed much because he was always being such a jerk. He had a sharp sense of humor, and she had no doubt his hot temper came from a combination of not only his nature, but the pain of his thigh as well. Taking Styx might have eased the pain, but it had brought on far bigger problems of which Thrower had been unaware, among them an addiction as the need for larger doses gradually crept up on him. Lucia’s father was a well-known healer on her planet, a respected medicine man who knew a lot about painkillers. If–when–they got out of here, she was taking Thrower to meet with him. She had no doubt her father could help him. If she was right, Thrower had unfortunately made a common mistake. The word of several doctors only, and no looking further a field to other therapies. The stubborn man needed to be educated, and she was just the one to do it. Smiling to herself, Lucia leaned back against the wall and relaxed, conserving her energy whilst remaining aware of her surroundings and companion. ***** Yeum eyed Hemla nervously. The Karatzin was sharp-tongued, his movements quick. If the bloody over-grown lizard started flipping out, he could exude that damned poison from his skin and kill them all. Obviously recognizing the signs of growing agitation in him, Prednal snarled, “Keep your distance, Hemla, and regain control! Do you want to kill us all?” “I’m fine.” Hemla hissed.

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“If you even start to think about poisoning us, I’ll snap you in two.” “Perhaps if you walk ahead of us,” Arcor suggested. “You don’t trust me?” Hemla narrowed his eyes at the big Juzzaar. “We’re going into withdrawals, Hemla. I don’t trust anyone. But you’re more of a liability right now.” Arcor hesitated and glanced at Prednal. “Maybe.” “I’ve control,” Prednal snarled. “Let’s keep moving. And you, Hemla, keep your distance if you feel like you’re losing it, all right?” Hemla’s head bobbed up and down, the shadow of it grotesquely copied on the tunnel wall. They continued in silence, Yeum being sure to keep Arcor between himself and the shape shifter and the Karatzin. In a fight, he’d lose against all three, but he figured the Juzzaar would kill him cleanly, whereas the Karatzin would poison him and the Monack rip him limb from limb and laugh about it. If he had to go, he’d rather go quick, but preferably not all. The floor of the tunnel became more rocky, debris trickling down the walls. The ground was uneven, and now he could see the effects of the faraway shaking they’d all felt faintly over the last ten hours. “What’s happened here?” Arcor queried as they came to a pile of rock and rubble. Squinting up at the damaged ceiling with the broken globe, Prednal frowned. “The roof appears to be caving in.” “Just the roof?” Arcor brushed his hand over the sections missing from the wall. “I think the tunnel is collapsing.” “It’s the rumblings we’ve been feeling.” Hemla placed his own palm against the wall. “This tunnel is not stable.” Yeum felt the first prickle of unease. “So the power going out wasn’t your girlfriend’s doing, Prednal?” “What are you saying?” The Monack looked hard at him. “I’m–I’m just saying that you thought she’d put the power off long enough to enable us to break free, but maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe it was the instability of the tunnel?” Storming across to him, Prednal bared his teeth. Yeum swallowed and took a step back. “He has a point,” Arcor stated. “If your girlfriend had turned off the power, she would have sent us a way to get out of here. We’re on our own.” Prednal swung around to face him, his eyes glittering. “Otherwise,” Arcor continued calmly, “Where is our transport?” “It will come.” A dull roar sounded, muffled and far away, and the ground beneath their feet trembled. The four men looked at each other, the first sign of unease crossing Prednal’s face. “Do we stay here or keep moving?” Hemla queried nervously. “I don’t like this, Prednal. If the tunnels are collapsing—“ “The tunnels are not collapsing!” Prednal started forward at a faster pace. “So where are we going?” “To find the scientists, just like we first planned!” “Going by the distant rumbles, maybe we should be looking for a way out of here instead.” Arcor suggested.

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The silence was thick with threat as the shape shifter and the big humanoid looked at each other. “Those scientists will spread the word of our escape,” Prednal growled. “Those scientists are long gone. They fled as soon as they saw us breaking out.” Nostrils flaring, claws flashing sharply in the dim light, Prednal swung his stare to Hemla. The Karatzin shrugged. When Prednal transferred his hard gaze to Yeum, he looked away nervously. “You’re all scared of the sounds of mine machines!” Prednal spat. “Mine machines? There are no mine machines in this area, and not once have we heard them in this vicinity,” Arcor said. “I say we go on!” Prednal started forward again. “On! Or do you cowards wish to stay back here alone?” Yeum certainly didn’t. Prednal had a lover who was in the ideal situation to help them escape. He intended to stick like glue to the shape shifter–unless he went nuts, of course, then it was every man for himself. As one, the remaining three males followed Prednal. Beneath their feet, the ground still shook, and rumblings sounded in the distance but grew nearer as the seconds ticked past. Rounding a corner, they came to a shocked halt at the sight before them. Sitting back against the wall of the tunnel were two prison guards. ***** Lucia stared right at the four prisoners. The Karatzin and the Monack had red uniforms on, the human and the Juzzaar yellow. Levels Nineteen and Sixteen. In one motion she surged to her feet shouting out, “Thrower! Escaped prisoners!” The Monack wasted no time. Even as Thrower struggled to his feet, the Monack had shape shifted into a two-clawed, hard-shelled corpse beetle. Which was bad luck for him, because Thrower took one look at him out of wild eyes and screamed, “Bugs!” One part of her felt like laughing, the other side crying. Face-to-face with four escaped prisoners from the worst levels of the prison, and a flipped-out partner. Drawing her phaser, Lucia yelled, “Stand fast!” The Monack kept coming, his claws clacking sharply. The big Juzzaar, the Karatzin and the human watched the shape shifter. Thrower threw himself right at the shifter, shocking everyone. Cursing, Lucia tried to see around them, but Thrower and the Monack were in a close huddle, the shifter unable to rip at him with his claws, as Thrower was hard against him doing some frenzied tearing of his own. The shape shifter screamed in combined fury and pain as his antennae was ripped away. Screaming, spittle flying from his mouth, Thrower cursed him with every breath and clawed at the tender flesh showing in-between the cracks of the shell. The Juzzaar started forward, his black glasses giving nothing of his expression away, and the Karatzin stepped forward on the other side. Lucia transferred her attention to the approaching prisoners. “Last warning! Stay back or I shoot!”

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They kept coming, but they used a maneuver she had never before seen . They kept dodging around so that Thrower and the shifter were between them and her, so she couldn’t fire without risking hitting him. Which meant that she had to keep moving around to try and get a beam on them, which in turn meant she eventually would have her back to the human prisoner. “Hells bells,” Lucia muttered. “Sorry, Thrower.” In one smooth motion, she fired her phaser, singeing Thrower’s ear and going straight through the shifter’s shoulder. The fire power continued and hit the Juzzaar in his side. The Juzzaar yelled and staggered back, and the Karatzin, seeing that she wasn’t above risking one of her own to kill them, changed tactics. His skin started to shine. “No, Hemla!” Yeum shouted. “You’ll kill us all!” The Juzzaar swung around and gave the Karatzin a closed-fisted thump to the jaw, catching him unawares, then he shoved him aside. The shape shifter screamed at the pain of his shoulder and shifted to a reptile, clawing away at Thrower to get loose. Thrower stomped on his tail and reached for his jaw, screaming abuse the whole time. Taking advantage of the diversion, Lucia aimed the phaser again at the Monack. Thrower moved to the side, and she started to press the trigger. Then the wall behind her exploded inwards, and hot lava dripped onto the floor, closely followed by the sound of clicking claws. Instinctively she threw herself forward, knowing exactly what was coming through the wall. The prisoners obviously didn’t, for they all spun around to stare at the big worm that was clawing its way through the hole, its jagged-toothed mouth stretch open wide as it squealed. Big, bulbous eyes mirrored their stunned expressions. The wall crumbled on the other side, and they all jumped back. A claw reached out and the sharpness glinted wickedly. Steam poured out from the hole, and lava dripped down it. “Bugs!” Thrower yelled. For one awful second Lucia thought, he was going to throw himself at it, but instead he released the shifter and grabbed for her. In imitation of their earlier flight, he broke into a fullon run, towing her behind him, but this time they were joined by the four escapees. The worms squealed and pushed through the wall. “What the hell are they?” The human prisoner yelled as he ran beside Lucia. “No idea!” She yelled back. “But I’m not hanging around to find out, either!” The tunnel exploded inwards just as they passed, and another head with big, bulbous, black eyes pushed through. The lava this time spilled out with it, leaving the shell steaming. It squealed, arching its head towards them. Thrower, Lucia and the four prisoners skirted it and continued running. It was weird. For a moment in time the mixed humans, humanoids and aliens were linked in mutual fear and instinct for survival. But then the Monack decided to try something. Turning around, he threw himself at Lucia, intending to knock her back. “Filthy whore guard!” he swore, slashing at her with one curved claw. “Be a meal for them!”

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Pulled along by Thrower, she was unable to avoid the claw, and it cut through the shoulder of her suit, but thank God for her guard uniform beneath, for it acted as lightweight armor, and the claw scraped off her. Thrower almost flung her to the side as he rounded again on the Monack, his crazed eyes glittering wildly. Laughing, the Monack started to leap forward, but then the wall behind him exploded again, only this time red-hot lava poured out and coated his arm in a steaming, cooking heat. The shifter screamed, his shape shifting and changing so fast it was almost a blur, a mockery of anything breathing being remodeled and melting into one species after another, some human in appearance, some the things of nightmares. Still shape shifting rapidly, he tore up the tunnel ahead of his friends, passing them and disappearing into the dimly lit depths, his agonized screams echoing eerily behind him. Thrower swung around to face her, his eyes glittering wildly, and Lucia groaned as he threw back his head and snarled. “You idiot! Not now!” She pointed to the lava flowing sluggishly down the wall to the floor, the tide of red-hot crimson coming towards them. “Run!” Like an animal sensing danger, Thrower eyed the lava, then he turned and ran, but his glittering gaze kept cutting to Lucia as she ran beside him. Now she had more to worry about. Prisoners ahead, all going into withdrawal, Thrower in the midst of withdrawal and looking like he could cheerfully cut her up right now, and hot lava creeping up behind her. Could the day–or night–get any worse? They pounded down the tunnel, and the lava spewed hotly, running faster. It was so friggin’ hot she could scarcely breathe. The Juzzaar and the Karatzin were somewhere up ahead, she couldn’t even make them out. The human, though, he was keeping pace with them, his breath coming fast and hard as he stumbled onward. Suddenly Thrower staggered, his hand going to his thigh, and he snarled in mingled rage and pain. Oh yeah, the day–or night –could get much worse. Desperately Lucia looked around, trying to find a way out. Thrower wasn’t going to last much longer. Normally she could carry him over her shoulder, but while he frothed at the mouth and looked like he could murder, that wasn’t an option. Then she saw it. An opening above the rubble on the left. An opening into another tunnel. There might have been more creatures on the other side, but compared to the unforgiving, molten lava almost lapping at their heels, she’d take on the creatures. “Up!” She yelled at Thrower, pointing in the direction of the opening. “Up there!” Lumbering forward, he came after her, his sweat-drenched face flushed and full of murderous rage. His fingers were curled, reaching for her. And the day just got worse. Springing out of his way wasn’t too hard, for his painful thigh was giving him problems, but how the hell was she going to get this nutter up the rubble and into safety, where she could knock the sense out of him and hope he recovered? Everywhere she backpedaled, he followed. And then she got the idea.

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In a flash, she turned and sprang up the rubble, noting absently that the human prisoner was already halfway up to safety. She scrambled up the rubble and looked over her shoulder to see Thrower following grimly. Okay, the day/night looked just a tad brighter. She continued pulling herself up the rubble, checking periodically on Thrower. The exsoldier clawed his way up, his gaze fixed on her. The lava flowed beneath and onward down the tunnel. As long as no-one fell, they’d all make it. Then Thrower slipped, his leg sliding down the rubble. She caught her breath as he grabbed a huge rock with one hand and hung on. And wouldn’t you know it, while she was all concerned about the nutter, he could only look at her with hatred and start clawing his way back up again, regaining ground slowly but surely. Reaching the opening, she saw that the human prisoner watched, and she drew her phaser and pointed it at him. “Back up!” “I won’t hurt you!” He hastily obeyed. Right. You wear one of the three worst colors, buster. Of course you wouldn’t hurt me. You’d kill me. Scrambling up into the opening, she could see that the tunnel beyond was caved in, but there looked to be an opening above it with a long cable hanging down. “Against the wall, buddy! Face it, sit with your legs crossed and your hands behind your head!” He did as she ordered. Now for problem number two. Thrower neared the opening with murder in his eyes. She set the phaser for STUN, then backed away from the opening until she was well inside. Thrower entered, dragging his agonizing leg like some horror zombie. Reaching out for her, he lurched forward. She hit him with the STUN power, and could only swear in astonishment when he simply staggered, shook his head, then started forward again. Twice more she fired on STUN before he finally dropped, his eyes rolling back in his head. Cautiously she moved over to him, checked he was breathing, and sighed in relief. After checking that her prisoner was still facing the wall, Lucia moved to the opening and peered down. In the tunnel below, lava flowed in a boiling hot wash. The lava deep in the middle of the planet had come free from their pits and was now slipping through the tunnels higher up, as were the monstrous lava worms, as she was coming to think of them. “W-what’s happening?” stammered the prisoner. Stepping back from the opening, Lucia checked that Thrower was still unconscious while asking at the same time, “What’s your name, prisoner?” “Yeum.” He turned his head a little to glance at her out of the corner of his eyes. “Ma’am.” How did you escape from your Level, Yeum? And how many more escaped with you?” “No one. We four were kept in a holding cell in a disused mining tunnel.” “What?” “We were kept in a holding cell—“

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“Don’t be ridiculous.” She sat down on a rock where she could keep Yeum, Thrower and the opening to the tunnel all within plain sight. “I’m telling the truth.” “There are no holding cells anywhere but in the prison.” “So you’d think, but we were chosen for testing.” “Testing what? Mixing of the two colors? Makes orange, you know.” Angrily he looked away. “Whatever.” Silence fell upon them, but she caught him glancing at her several times. His eyes were unusually bright. Great, another one ready to flip out at any moment. Maybe she should just shoot him now to prevent any further problems— “Ever wonder why only four prisoners are running around down here, instead of the whole lot?” Yeum finally bit out from between clenched teeth. “I have no doubt there are more, considering there are you four already.” She watched Thrower’s chest rise and fall evenly before transferring part of her attention back to Yeum. “There are only four this far in the mining tunnels, Guard, and that’s because we were kept prisoner down here—“ “For experiments. So you’ve already said.” “You don’t know everything that goes on in the Duran Corporation, you know.” Yeum looked grimly at her. “In fact, you don’t know everything that goes on in the prison.” “Everything is monitored,” she said evenly. “Not everything. How do you think the Styx got planted for your partner to find? Yeah,” he added when she involuntarily glanced down at Thrower’s prone form. “Don’t deny he’s in withdrawals…Ma’am.” Rubbing her chin, Lucia studied Yeum more closely. He did know more than he should have. That she knew of, she was the only one who had found out Thrower’s secret. And coming from Level Sixteen, there was no way Yeum should have been able to know that. The prisoners didn’t mix, the only level allowed to being Level Seven, the Pink Zone, and even then they only came out in pairs for short periods. So how did this Level Sixteen prisoner know what was happening to the prison Guards and other Levels? Could he be speaking the truth? After all, someone had been getting the Styx to the dealers, someone from the outside. And the only areas not monitored were the civilian areas. Scientists. “Got you wondering now, haven’t I?” Yeum nodded with satisfaction. “Yeah, I know more than you think about some things.” Some strange things had been happening lately, such as being deserted without warning and left to die on a planet that was crumbling all around them. A planet mined for Styx. “Tell me what you know.” She rested her chin in her hand. “Who’s to say you’ll believe me?” “Humor me.” He looked at her oddly, took a deep breath, and then nodded. “Down in the tunnel below, where the lava is flowing, you might have stumbled upon a mintun rider with two scientists on board?”

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“Yes.” “What did they say?” “They were dead. A boulder from above gave them a little knock on the head.” “I see.” Lucia gave her head an idle scratch and studied the prisoner’s face. He might be a mean bastard at times–would have to be, he wore a yellow uniform–but his gaze was steady as he continued talking, and she could tell a lot from a man’s eyes and gestures. And he knew about the scientists, which was even odder, because the Monack would have been able to catch them and kill them in seconds, and the four prisoners would have absconded in the mintun rider. Something didn’t smell right, so she determined to find out what was cooking. “Anyway,” Yeum continued. “The three prisoners I was with, Arcor the Juzzaar, Hemla the Karatzin, and Prednal the Monack, we were chosen and brought down to the holding cell in the disused tunnel below us there, Called Research Station One.” He gestured to the opening. “Scientists were experimenting on us.” “Experimenting with what?” “Styx.” “We already know what Styx does to prisoners.” “But it wasn’t just Styx they tested on us. They were combining it with reefer.” “Reefer?” “Oh, come on, you’ve heard of reefer?” “No.” “You must have.” More intrigued than irritated, Lucia shook her head. “Impossible,” Yeum muttered and then explained, “It’s the street name for the more potent cousin to Styx.” “There’s another drug similar to Styx?” “Reefer is cruder. More volatile in unmeasured amounts.” “Volatile how?” “Pretty much all the withdrawals that someone gets if they don’t have their Styx dose, is what someone gets from taking an unmeasured amount of reefer.” Okay, that doesn’t sound good. “So this reefer, why was it being tested on you?” “Because the Duran Corporation is looking for a way to make Styx legal everywhere, and they hope to do it by mixing it with something else and changing the name. By using reefer as the mixer, they hoped to dilute the withdrawal effects.” “But the new drug is more unstable.” “Yeah.” Yeum glanced away for the first time. “Yeah, it is.” Could he be speaking the truth? Lucia knew Styx was mined on this planet, hell, you’d have to be a blind fool not to know, after all, Styx was legal in some parts of the galaxy. It didn’t surprise her that the Duran Corporation would be trying to somehow make it legal everywhere. “Oh yeah, one other thing,” Yeum added. “By combining reefer with the more pure Styx, Duran Corporation will be able to stretch the good stuff further out and still charge the same amount.”

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“Now that makes some sense,” she mused. “Styx will fetch an even higher price, considering it won’t be available anymore with the planet falling down around our ears.” Of his story, she still wasn’t sure how much to believe, though. “What?” He looked at her then glanced around. “What do you mean?” “You must have heard the rumbles and felt the tremors.” “Only lately.” “News flash for you, Yeum. Duran has mined this planet so much that it’s literally falling apart.” Yeum stared at her. “The boulder that killed those scientists came from a collapsing tunnel? And that lava is from a lava pit that’s sprung free due to tunnels collapsing.” “Shit. You’re kidding.” Wide-eyed, he glanced at the opening and the steam that was starting to curl up from the hot lava flow below. “I wish.” “So how come they didn’t get us out? Oh…” His gaze became bitter. “We’re just prisoners.” “And we’re just guards.” Uncomprehendingly, he looked at her, then blinked. “How come you’re here? How come you didn’t leave?” “Because we didn’t know, prisoner. Just like you, we were left behind with no warning.” Yeum jumped to his feet, fear spreading across his face. Immediately Lucia raised the phaser and trained it on him. “Don’t do anything stupid.” “I don’t–we’re stuck–how do we get out of here?” Panic spread across his features. “Well that’s the hell of it, Yeum,” she replied easily, trying to keep him calm. “We have no idea.” “You have no idea?” “Give the man a prize. That’s exactly what I mean. However, I figure if we keep heading up, we should get out of here.” I hope. “How do we get up?” He looked around wildly. “Settle down, Yeum, or I’m telling you right now, it’ll only be me and my partner who will get out. If you start panicking, you’re on your own.” Her voice hardened as she slipped into Guard mode. “You do as I say, when I say it, and how I say it. One foot out of place and I shoot you. Understand?” When he didn’t acknowledge her, she repeated harshly, “Understand?” “Yes,” he finally said. Glancing around, he looked back at her. “Now what… Ma’am?” Getting to her feet, Lucia looked outside the opening and down into the tunnel. The sight that met her gaze chilled her. The lava boiled along and the height had climbed. It was now halfway up the side of the tunnel, and getting closer to the opening every minute. And slipping through the thick lava were the lava worms, their shells steaming, the coating on their eyes thick and dull. One raised its head and squealed before sinking back into the depths. But it didn’t burn alive, it rolled with the lava–not feeling the immense heat.

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“Now we move.” She looked at the prisoner. “What was your crime, anyway?” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Murder.” “How many?” “Twelve.” “Children? Babes? Elderly? What?” “I—“ “Don’t lie to me, prisoner!” “Family,” he muttered. “You were sentenced to life for murdering a whole family.” “Yes.” His face became rigid, and sweat trickled down from his temple. Lucia noticed that his hands trembled when he wiped the sweat away. Withdrawal possibly. She would have shot him right then and there, knowing he’d be big trouble later, but she had a use for him first. Going to Thrower, she knelt down and checked that he had nothing in his pockets that could be used as a weapon. His ear lobe was singed, but that was the least of her worries. Pocketing the extra torch, she flicked it into the dark depths of the tunnel on either side. The left was collapsed and blocked with debris, so that left going to the right, which, hopefully, would lead back to the prison somewhere. Or out further into the planet. Ignoring the little voice that beat almost panic-stricken inside her, she straightened up and gestured to Yeum. “Pick him up and carry him over your shoulder. We’re moving.” Without argument, Yeum obeyed. With a grunt he managed to tug Thrower upright and placing his shoulder in Thrower’s midriff, he stood up with another grunt, steadied himself and regained balance, then looked at Lucia, awaiting her command. “This way.” She shone the torch down the open tunnel. Walking along just behind and to the side of him, Isles ensured that Thrower was on his opposite shoulder, just in case Yeum had the bright idea of trying to drop him onto her. Not that he’d be able to get much of a toss up, going by the way he walked so carefully. Obviously, Thrower was a little heavier than he appeared. Then again, the man did love lifting weights, and muscle weighed more and, well, there was no fat on him anyway. It was all muscle. So Thrower was heavier than he appeared. She grinned a little before growing sober again, her thoughts turning back to the conversation. Was Yeum speaking the truth about Duran Corporation? Nothing Duran did could really surprise her, and now she thought about it, using prisoners would be something they’d do. Experimenting with a coarser drug to extend the amount of the more pure Styx they had seemed like a viable idea, too. “Say, Yeum,” she said casually. He grunted in reply. “How did you escape the holding cells?” “The power must have fluctuated, and when it did, so did the high voltage power running through the bars. Prednal shape-shifted and got through the bars, and Arcor managed to bend his enough to get out. The scientists weren’t prepared for any of that, and the Juzzaar and Monack overpowered them easily. Then they freed us.” “Why free you?”

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“Safety in numbers.” Lucia nodded. “We thought at first that Prednal’s girlfriend…” He stammered to a halt and missed a step, nearly falling to his knees in the process. He had to grab onto the wall to regain his balance. How interesting. What’s going on now? “Prednal’s girlfriend…what?” “Uh–He thought she was…was…” “Lie to me, Yeum, and I’ll kill you here and now.” Stepping up close behind him, she stuck the end of the phaser against his ribs. “What about the girlfriend?” “He’ll kill me if he every finds out I told!” “I’ll kill you if you don’t. Now spill the truth.” Moving around to face him, Lucia ensured she was at a safe distance. “I’ll know if you’re lying, Yeum. It’ll be your decision if I pull the trigger and fry your ass or not.” His eyes darted desperately from side to side. “I might even shoot you in both kneecaps and leave you crawling around in here until the lava or the lava worms reach you. Or a cave-in suffocates you. Whichever.” “You need me to carry your friend—“ “I’m strong enough to carry him, Yeum. Now tell me about the Monack’s girlfriend.” His throat worked several times, and then he nodded and made to put Thrower down. “Uh-uh, keep holding him. We’re not staying here long.” After shifting his heavy burden a little, resentment in his eyes, Yeum said, “Prednal’s girlfriend was supposed to be freeing us from this place.” “How?” “Coming with transport. We thought it was her who had caused the power to fluctuate, but when she didn’t appear, and we felt the tremors, we knew we were wrong.” “Where does Prednal’s girlfriend work? Civilian area?” Lucia guessed. “Maybe. He never told us much, just that she knew where we were and she was planning an escape. She needed the help of a guard, and was working on ensuring she could blackmail him. We didn’t know who or how.” Lucia had an idea who and how, the who slung over Yeum’s shoulder and the how being the cause of his withdrawal. She had no doubt the Monack’s charming girlfriend had somehow got the Styx to the dealer to be planted for Thrower to collect. It was the only thing that made sense. There had been an outside plant, and it had been in the civilian area, the same area Captain Riggeur had gone ape-shit about when he’d discovered it wasn’t under monitor. Well, the Captain was right again. And if all areas had been under monitor and guard, this whole mess might not have happened to start with. If nothing else, it made Isles feel a little better to know that none of the guards were involved in underhanded business. Watching Yeum closely, noting his gaze which kept dropping nervously to the phaser in her hand, she knew he spoke the truth. “So when did this most loyal girlfriend intend to come and set you all free?” “There was no set time just that she would as soon as she could. That’s all I know.” “Would you happen to know her name?”

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“Prednal would never say for fear we’d accidentally let it slip where the scientists would hear.” “This Prednal was very good at keeping you all in the dark.” She arched one brow. “What makes you think he was really intending to take you all with him and his little girlfriend?” Yeum smiled tightly. “He would only need us for phaser fodder, nothing else. My plan was to let him use me as far as he wanted, then bail out at the last second.” “Risky plan.” “Risky business.” Lucia gestured him to start walking again. “So, what sort of transport was she bringing down?” “Don’t know that either.” “Do you know where she intended to come through?” A thought struck her. “If the holding cells were unknown to all except a select few, how did she plan to get down here? The mining tunnels were out of the question.” “I’m guessing there’s a secret tunnel or shaft or something.” A flicker of excitement shot through her. A secret tunnel to the upper levels meant being saved from dying down in this hellhole maze. “Prednal, of course, never mentioned where this secret tunnel was?” “I’m guessing he didn’t know, otherwise we’d have headed straight there instead of going looking for the scientists who’d managed to get away from us.” “How many scientists were involved in this?” “We only ever saw the same six.” “All six were scientists?” “Well, only four wore lab coats. The other two were a tall, distinguished looking man dressed in a brown suit, and the other was a woman who just came and collaborated all the data.” Digesting the information in silence, Lucia almost missed seeing the hole in the roof with the broken cable hanging down. Cursing her own stupidity in not being more observant, she pointed to the far wall, and Yeum obeyed without speaking. Once he was against the far wall and unable to take her by a surprise attack, she approached the cable and ran the light up it. It went through a thick hole in the floor of the tunnel above and seemed to go up even further. Even better, a dim light shone up in the further tunnels. That meant she could conserve torch light once up there. Hope beat to life inside Lucia, and she shone the torch back at Yeum. He looked from her to the cable, hope in his own eyes. It was then she noticed the feverish brightness of his eyes, and the flush in his cheeks. Fever, another sign of withdrawal. Combine that with shaking hands, and she wondered if he’d get worse or if this was the tail end of the withdrawal. “How long since you last had Styx?” she queried. He looked at her. “This morning, but I was only on a very low dose.” Yeah, right. Looking at Thrower, she debated what to do. He was still unconscious, and she certainly wasn’t going to hang around while this golden opportunity was waiting. She’d just have to carry him up the cable with her. She only had to tie him to her somehow.

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Tugging on the cable, she judged it safe enough to take her weight and looked at Yeum. “Move closer and put him down over there.” She shone the torch on a spot not far from her. “Then get back against the wall, turn and face it.” Yeum did as ordered, laying Thrower flat in the dirt. When he moved back against the wall, he leveled a long look at her. “If you’re going to shoot me, I don’t want it in the back.” “What, like you gave your victims a choice of dying or not?” She gave a snort of disgust. “I want you facing the wall while I get ready. You can turn around and start climbing the cable only when I call to you.” It was more than obvious by his tenseness that he didn’t believe her, but he had no real choice, either, so he did as ordered. Knowing he couldn’t see her, Lucia pulled the knife from her boot and cut the suit from her body, leaving her in her guard’s uniform. Cutting strips from the strong suit, she resheathed the knife in her boot, and then tied one strip to his wrist and the other to his ankle. Hoisting him onto her shoulder wasn’t exactly easy, but that was due more to the position than his actual weight. Being half Banoi sure came in handy at times, as did scrapping with her older brothers while growing up. She’d quickly learned the advantages of being able to carry someone bigger than herself when she’d knocked them out by accident. Ah, childhood. What fond memories. Grabbing the strips that hung from his wrist behind her and his boot in front of her, she tied the strips diagonally across her body. That was the best she could do, she could only hope Thrower wouldn’t slide off and pull them both down with his weight. “Keep your face to the wall until I tell you, Yeum.” Placing one hand around the cable, she gave it another strong tug. Yeum was silent but still kept his face to the wall, no doubt waiting for the burn of phaser fire to cut short his life. It wasn’t a bad idea considering he’d wiped out a whole family in cold blood, but she might still have need of him, otherwise she’d be quite happy to leave him to his fate down here. After ensuring both phasers and torches were secured on her belt under the suit, she caught hold of the cable in both hands and pulled herself up hand-over-hand. And hells bells, Thrower’s heavy. What does he eat for breakfast, nuts and bolts? But not heavy enough to stop her. Hand-over-hand she agilely went up the cable, her strong feminine muscles bunching and stretching with her movements. Using her boots to brace against the cable was a no-go, for it slid straight off, so she maneuvered up the cable by arm and shoulder strength alone. Coming to the hole, she hesitated. What if the lava worms were up there? Or even worse, the remaining three prisoners? What if they’d managed to get up here through another hole? Oh wait, the Monack was having his arm cooked somewhere, she doubted he’d be in his right mind to think anything right now, but that still left the Karatzin and the Juzzaar. And what good to hang around beneath the hole, thinking dire thoughts? The only way was up, so she’d have to take her chances anyway. Using one a burst of strength, she came up through hole quickly and spun around on the cable, hearing it creak and groan, sending a shower of dirt skittering into the tunnel below. The tunnel she’s just come into was empty, a tiny trickle of water running down from a corner.

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Relieved, she continued to haul herself hand-over-hand up the cable, calling down to Yeum as she did so. “Prisoner, get near the cable and be ready to climb as soon as I reach the next tunnel above me.” When she felt a slight pull on the cable, she snapped, “Don’t climb until I’m up! You’ll shake the cable and make us both fall. And if you do start, when I get up the top, I’ll shoot you down! So obey orders prisoner!” The cable stopped moving and apart from a muffled oath, all was silent. Thrower started to become a problem, his belt buckle now digging sharply into her shoulder blade. But there was nothing for it but to keep going. Sweat trickled down her temple and she swore softly as it stung her eye. Blinking rapidly, she continued grimly to climb hand-over-hand. Finally, her head came through the opening and she found herself in a dimly lit shaft. No holes in the wall, no hot lava, no lava worms and no prisoners. Whoo hoo. That evened up the odds a bit for her. Climbing up and into the tunnel, she looked up to see that the cable was fastened to the ceiling and again, no holes in there. Damn, she could have done another couple of levels after a rest. If she had to, she’d have been more than happy to climb every single level until she broke out of these nightmarish tunnels and out into the open. Hell, she’d even kiss the snow and sit in it bare assed if she had to. But it wasn’t to be, and she staunchly told herself to stop whining silently and get on with the job at hand. Stepping onto the tunnel floor, she looked down at Yeum, who was a very small figure anxiously peering up, and called down to him, “Start climbing.” Moving well away from the hole, she untied Thrower’s wrist from his ankle and lowered him to the floor. He stirred, moaning softly, and she stretched backwards and worked her shoulders around to ease the kinks while watching him warily, trying to judge his mental condition. ***** Underground Level Ten Secret Shaft Manya was more than glad that she’d taken the skimmer. Even the secret tunnel hadn’t escaped damage, and holes gaped in the flooring as it slanted gradually but surely downwards. There were several times she knew she wouldn’t have made it in a mintun rider. A cold wind swept through cracks in part of the walls, and she was honest enough to admit to herself that she was worried. Scared. She had eight more levels to go down, and it looked as though things below were as bad as the Levels above. And what if some of the prisoners had escaped? But then, even if they had, they couldn’t have made it through to the mining tunnels, surely? Somehow, even her own arguments didn’t sound good. Sure, there were metal walls between the prison inmates and the mining tunnels, but she’d seen what the quakes were doing to the metal walls in the upper levels. Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, Manya chewed her bottom lip as she concentrated on rounding the bend. In front of the skimmer’s lights, the shaft angled downward on a gradual slope, and she flew further into the depths, reminding herself why she was putting her life at possible risk.

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Wealth and her lover. Everything that could make them rich forever was down in that Research Station. Everything. She hadn’t worked in this hellhole of a grim place only to leave without the one thing that would make her happy for the rest of her life. Correction, two things. Manya giggled slightly when she realized she’d forgotten to count her lover in the equation for a few seconds. Sobering, she bit her lip. Of course, he could also be dead, depending on what was happening in the mine tunnels. There could have been a cave-in… No! No cave-ins there! If there’s a cave-in and I can’t get that one little item…! Shaking her head furiously, Manya started down the shaft faster. Time was of an essence. Even though she couldn’t feel the tremors, she could here the rumblings in the tunnels. And even eerier, the roar of some beast came to her, drifting through the cracks in the wall. Shivering, she ordered herself to stay focused. ***** Underground Level Eighteen Research Station One Arcor and Hemla stumbled upon Prednal down by the holding cells. Slumped against the wall, he gazed around with glittering eyes. The smell of cooked, burned flesh was rife in the air. Warily they looked at him. A long line of drool ran from the corner of his mouth, and every now and then he’d shape shift into something else, only it seemed to just add to the pain as his hurt arm elongated and changed. “Hell,” Hemla hissed. “Look at his arm!” The dimness allowed Arcor to lower his glasses, and he stared at the cowering shape shifter out of bright orange eyes. Prednal’s arm was, to put it frankly, a little…yuck. Somehow, he’d managed to get the lava off along with big chunks of flesh. What was left was a withered, skeletal arm covered in raw, blackened flesh and sinew. Monacks might be able to withstand a lot of injuries and heal quickly, but obviously red-hot lava wasn’t one of them. Arcor also had a feeling that the rapid shape shifting the shocked Monack had gone through, hadn’t helped. It had probably allowed the heat of the lava to get into areas normally protected. Though how protected a Monack could be from lava, who knew? Going by Prednal, not a lot of protection. “Prednal?” Arcor asked in a low voice. The Monack growled low, trying to hold his injured arm close to him. “Prednal,” Arcor said, louder. The gaze the shape shifter turned to him was crazed with pain, and terrified. “We’ll have to kill him,” Hemla whispered, his gut clenching. “He’s the only one who knows what his girlfriend looks like.” “What are you, insane?” Hemla scowled. “It wasn’t his girlfriend who set us free, but earth tremors.” “Maybe she’ll come back for him.” “You think?” Hemla sniffed the air. “All I smell down here is fear, an injured Monack and you. As Prednal, once our leader is now useless, what do you say we should do?”

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Arcor cast him a shuttered look. “Are you placing me as leader in Prednal’s place?” “What do you think?” The Karatzin pointed in disgust at the Monack. “That we follow him?” “You have a point.” The Juzzaar nodded. “You get rid of him.” “Me?” “It’ll be easier for you. I’ll move well away, and you release the toxins from your skin. That’ll kill him and we can get going.” “Well, sure.” Hemla shrugged and moved forward cautiously towards Prednal. Arcor moved further away, his eyes gleamed, within their depths a flash of red, hidden quickly with his glasses. He didn’t stop until he was at a safe distance. Then he watched dispassionately while the Karatzin secreted the gas from his skin. Hemla was already agitated, so it didn’t take much for him to secrete it. The vaguely yellowish, dense mass of air lifted from him to fill the area. It covered Prednal, who shrieked, his body shape shifting involuntarily as he fought the poison, his body falling to lie prone on the ground, twitching in the last throes of the poison. When he finally lay still, Arcor waited while Hemla checked him and pronounced the Monack dead. Then gesturing to him, Arcor led the way in the opposite direction to which they’d just come. Somewhere there had to be a way out. Going back wasn’t an option, for hot lava was filling the tunnel behind them, along with hellish creatures. At the reminder, he broke into a run, the Karatzin following close behind.

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Chapter Six Underground Level Fifteen Mining Shaft Thrower hadn’t yet come around properly, he was simply giving little moans. Lucia pulled him over to a sitting position against the wall, and turned her attention to Yeum who was still coming up the cable. She could hear him grunting with the exertion, and smiled grimly. A bit of pain would be good for him. It was nearly ten minutes before he finally came through the opening, his breath coming in gasps, sweat streaking his face. “Hell!” He jumped off the cable to the floor of the tunnel. “That was murder!” “Nice choice of words.” Lucia looked at him. “Murder is something I know about.” He grinned at her, and she was struck by the glitter in his eyes. Palming the phaser, she held it on him. “Get over by the wall.” “Or what?” He cocked his head to one side, a little line of spittle trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Or I blast you to kingdom come.” “You really think that little burst of power can hurt me?” He thumped his chest with one fist. “Do you?” Immediately she knew what was happening. The human prisoner felt invincible. One of the signs of withdrawal was the feeling of invincibility, followed closely by psychosis, hallucinations–pretty much what Thrower was going through. Well, there was no way she was going to risk her life for a family-killing, psychotic prisoner. “Smile for the flash,” she said, and squeezed the phaser trigger just as Yeum leaped towards her. The tunnel shook with the force of a tremendous quake. Dirt rained down, momentarily blinding her, and then a force hit her on the back of the head. A brutal force that made her see stars and threw her forward at Yeum, who howled triumphantly and reached for her. Even as she threw out one fist in instinct, a chunk of rock flew from the wall behind her and thumped her in the back of the head. Knocked unconscious, she dropped to the floor, the phaser skittering from her hand to land at the prisoner’s feet. ***** Groggily, feeling so sick he wanted to vomit his guts up, Thrower opened his eyes. First he heard voices, and then he felt the huge quake. Instantly he rolled to his feet, the sickness temporally forgotten, and his gaze fell on Isles as she was thrown forward from the blast. In front of her was a prisoner in a yellow overall, and he howled and reached for her, stumbling across the earth as it shook beneath him. Fear for Isles, and a primal urge of protectiveness, made Thrower push forward as Isles threw out one fist in a very cock-eyed punch, and then horror filtered through him as a chunk

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of rock, dislodged from the wall, flew straight out and hit her on the back of the head. She dropped to the floor like a stone. Not waiting, Thrower lunged forward just as the prisoner reached down for the phaser that had clattered to a halt at his feet. Catching the prisoner around the waist, he brought him down to the ground. The prisoner was crazy all right. Frothing at the mouth and howling, he tried to bite Thrower, then claw at his face. Rage bubbled up inside Thrower, and he felt like ripping off the prisoner’s face. Fury tore through him, blinding him to everything but the need to kill, he rolled so that he was on top of the prisoner. Grabbing him by the ears, he smashed his head down on the rocks that littered the floor. Over and over he smashed the head down, until blood spattered the dirt along with bits of brain matter. When it finally registered that his enemy was dead, Thrower drew back onto his knees and wiped his bloody hand across his mouth. The taste was bitter, like iron, and salty. It made his gorge rise, and along with it came rising sanity, which pushed the darkness back. Leaning over to the side, he vomited what little he had left in his stomach. It took awhile before he had the retching under control, and when he finally did, he crawled over to where Isles lay still on the floor. “Isles?” He reached out and gently touch her head, his hand shaking with the fear that she might be dead. “Isles?” She was breathing, he saw with relief. Long, slow, shallow breaths. Did she have concussion? He lay his hand gingerly on her head, and immediately felt the wetness. Drawing back his hand, he saw fresh blood on his fingertips. “Oh God, Isles!” Feverishly, he looked around, spotting the fallen torch in the dirt nearby, he scrambled over to it, picked it up and returned to her side. Flicking the switch, he shone the light on her head. Gently, he moved the thick hair aside to show a rising bump. The skin across it was split, but it didn’t appear too bad. The bleeding wasn’t heavy, and all head wounds bled anyway, right? He had no way to staunch the blood, so biting his lip in silent apology, he pressed his sleeve against the wound. She groaned but didn’t move. After several minutes, he lifted his sleeve and saw that the bleeding had stopped. Breathing a sigh of relief, Thrower took the pouch containing the water and dried fruit off her back, then carefully turned Isles over, cradling her head in his hands. The skin that managed to show between the dirt on her face was pale. Her breathing was still slow and deep. Concussion? Thrower looked around. They were in a shaft or tunnel or whatever the hell it was called. It was dimly lit, and he saw the opening in the floor where the cable snaked down. He wasn’t sure where they were, but so far, there was no other threat. No other prisoners… Breath catching, he reached down and took the compad off Isle’s belt. The only red dot was the dead prisoner. There were no other prisoners. For now, they were safe. Or as safe as they could be.

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His stomach heaved again, and he turned his heads, but it was only dry retching. Tired, wrung out, and sick, he scuffled backwards, dragging Isles with him, until he rested against the wall. Carefully laying her head in his lap so that her cheek rested on his thigh, he leaned his own head back against the wall. With a fever running through him, Thrower dozed while his partner lay unconscious. One hand he rested on her shoulder, the other held the second phaser that he pulled from her belt. He could only hope he’d be aware if anyone or anything approached. Vaguely he knew he was too sick to be of much use, but he figured that between him and Isles, it was up to him to save them if something or someone came along now. What a choice. He grinned weakly to himself. ***** Underground Level Twelve Secret Shaft Steering the skimmer above the wet earth, Manya swallowed as she heard another roar. A cold wind whipped down from above her, as though somewhere there was an opening that allowed the freezing air from outside into the depths. It shouldn’t have been possible. The Environmental shaft should have been filtering the different temperatures through, but then, she remembered the destroyed control room. The A.I. that controlled everything was wrecked, or so she presumed. But what caused those roars? She’d seen bearcats topside at times, but never down in the tunnels. Had they come in the same way as the cold wind? Had they somehow gained entrance to the tunnels? Bearcats were shaggy monsters that moved with unbelievable speed, and they were well-suited to their frozen environment. Larger than bears and swifter than cats, they had dagger-like fangs and three rows of bared teeth sharper than that of those ancient reptiles that had been regarded with so much awe and fear, the crocodiles. Whomever the bearcats sank those teeth into was a goner. The first roar was joined by a second one, and she shuddered and accelerated. Part of her was wondering if it was all worth it, but another part hissed that she’d come too far to back off now. And it was too late to turn back anyway, for the roars came from behind her. The skimmer went down the slope into Level Thirteen. The other weird thing she noticed was how unnaturally warm it got the deeper she went down the tunnels. Too warm. She took off her lab coat and laid it on the seat beside her. Trying to take her mind off the troubling things happening around her, Manya smiled as she imagined her lover’s look of astonishment and his gratitude when she released him. Manya much preferred her fantasy to the reality crashing down around her. *****

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Underground Level Sixteen Mining Tunnel They hadn’t found a secret tunnel, but Arcor and Hemla had stumbled upon a series of holes in the tunnels leading upwards, and as far as Arcor was concerned, that was all that mattered. And seeing as he didn’t quite know what a secret tunnel would look like, for all he knew, they might very well be in one. What he did know was that the lava worms were breaking through the tunnels below, and even he didn’t want to take them on. And Hemla was a worry. The Karatzin had a hard time keeping control of his secretions. Growing increasingly agitated, his skin started to shine several times, and only Arcor’s harsh warning kept him from flipping out. Arcor himself had bit of an easier time. He’d been kept on low doses of Styx, so his main problem was nausea and irritation, but he didn’t have the killing rage. Not that that mattered. He could kill anyone without a qualm. But right now, there was safety in numbers– unless Hemla went out of control, then he’d have to kill him, or dispose of him some other way. Maybe push him into a lava pit or something. Grunting to himself, he lowered his glasses and looked around the dimness. Many of the bulbs in the ceiling had popped, and only a few scattered here and there along a cable kept light inside the tunnel. Neither of them had to worry, for Hemla was able to see in the dark, and Arcor’s sight was suited to dimness. “Do you think Yeum was taken by the guards?” Hemla queried. “They either killed him or made him a prisoner.” “Capturing him wouldn’t be hard,” Arcor stated. “He always was a follower.” “Someone has to lead, and someone has to follow.” Hemla cast him a look from eyes that held a decidedly shifty look. It made Arcor wonder how much Styx or reefer the Karatzin had been given during the tests. Being in separate cells, he didn’t always know the amounts the other prisoners had been given in their food, but going by the way the Karatzin acted, well, shifty, and had moments of agitation, it was more than obvious that he’d had a bigger dose of drug than the Juzzaar. Arcor would just have to see how much longer the Karatzin would last before he became too dangerous. ***** Underground Level Fifteen Mining Shaft The first thing Lucia was aware of was the pounding of her head. It felt like someone had a jackhammer and was happily throbbing away inside. The second thing she became aware of was the hard, muscled thigh beneath her cheek, the wrist that flopped over her shoulder and the attached hand that lay not far from her face. The hand had dried blood on it.

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In seconds she bolted upright, blinking against the whirling sensation that immediately overtook her. Gasping, her gaze fell on the dead prisoner laying not far away, his dried blood and bits of– yuck–brain stained the dirt. His eyes stared unseeingly up at the dirt ceiling. She hadn’t killed him, that much she knew. Then how...and whose hand had been over her shoulder, and…? Whirling around, she saw Thrower looking at her blearily. He waved his bloodied hand weakly. “Hi.” She would have said something, but the contents of her stomach heaved, and she had just enough time to lurch upright and stagger to the opposite side of the tunnel, where she vomited. And vomited. Her head pounded. Lucia felt like she just wanted to lie down and die. By the time she had regained control of herself, sweat streaked her face and embarrassment coursed through her at the knowledge that Thrower had witnessed her humiliation. Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath and moved back towards Thrower. He smiled weakly. “Welcome to the ranks of the spewers.” “Huh?” She reached for the pouch. “My spot is over there.” He pointed to an unsavory area near the body. “Your spot is over there.” His finger went in the other direction. “Just don’t let your spot encroach on my spot, okay? The members of the Spewers Club have their own designated areas.” “Ha ha.” Unscrewing the cap off the bottle, she tipped some water into her mouth without allowing the top of it to touch her lips, rinsed her mouth and spat, and repeated. Finally, she took two small swallows of water, and closed her eyes blissfully as the freshness swept through her. “Feel better?” “Much.” And she did, even her embarrassment had disappeared. Opening her eyes, she proffered the water bottle to Thrower. Nodding, he gratefully took the bottle and tipped a portion into his mouth, following her example. When he finally drank two mouthfuls, his blissful sigh echoed her own. She glanced across at Yeum. “What happened?” “How much do you remember?” “He came up through the hole and was intent on causing me a bit of damage. Then something hit me from behind—“ Her gaze snapped back to Thrower. “Not guilty.” He held up a hand. “The wall collapsed a bit, and a chunk of rock hit you on the head.” That explained the pounding headache. “I woke up in time to see that the prisoner try to attack you. I got to him first.” “You smashed his head in.” “I’m not going to apologize for it.” His tone hardened. “Thrower, I could kiss you for killing the creep.” She smiled at him. “Oh, well, don’t let me stop you.” He grinned. For a heartbeat they stared at each other. Both grimy, bloodied, and injured, they shared a moment that was closer than just companions. Lucia cleared her throat. “We’ll hold that thought until you’re clean, Thrower. Right now you look like an accident that already happened.”

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“And you look like your accident happened along with mine.” Thrower grinned. “I’ll hold the thought, don’t you worry. An expensive dinner for you, and a kiss for me. That’ll keep me going.” A strange warmth spread through her, a sensation she wasn’t used to feeling. She was starting to see Thrower in a slightly different light, and it wasn’t something she felt up to pursuing right now. Maybe never. Or at least, not down here. “So, you knocked Yeum off and looked after me while I was out cold. My hero.” “I can’t take all the credit. I did have this.” He held up the phaser and compad. Isles froze, her gaze on the phaser. How could she have forgotten how unstable Thrower was? Idiot! He obviously interpreted her expression correctly, for he held the phaser out to her. “Here you go. The other phaser is near the body.” “Thanks.” Relieved, she took the phaser and attached it to her belt. Trying to ignore the pounding of her head, she crossed to the prisoner and picked up the phaser lying near a pool of dried blood. For now, Thrower was normal. Well, as normal as Thrower could be which was a relief. When she turned around, he stood with his back against the wall. The compad was in the shaking hand he held stretched out to her. “From what I can see, this is the only prisoner close by.” He squinted at her. “Where did he come from?” “You don’t remember?” “Would I be asking if I did?” Oh look, the old Thrower was coming back. In an odd way, the thought appealed to her and she grinned. He scowled. “You have no idea how much I missed your smart mouth,” she said before she could stop herself. Oops. “Oh, really?” His brow rose in arrogant pleasure. “Don’t get too big-headed, boy. I’ve cut down bigger than you in my time.” “I’d like to cut you down.” “Promises, promises.” Christ, that bop to the head had really rattled her brains. “Are you flirting with me, Isles?” The conversation was taking too intimate a turn. “Stop preening. Do you want to hear about the other prisoners?” Immediately he went on the alert, which in his condition meant looking around quickly, his trembling fists clenched, and taking a wavering step forward. “There’re others?” “Not here.” Steadying him with one arm around his shoulders, she leaned him back against the wall. “Here, munch on some dried fruit while I fill you in on what you missed out on.” “How could I have possibly missed out on seeing prisoners?” “Seeing them?” She grinned in amusement. “Thrower, you took on a Monack with no fear.” Even Thrower looked shocked. “I did? What was I, mad?” “Give the man a prize.”

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“God, I’m sorry, Isles. I—“ “You probably saved both our hides, Thrower. Anyway, settle back and have a little munchie to rejuvenate your strength, and I’ll tell you the little story.” “Is this going to be a bedtime story?” He managed a ghost of his normally cocky grin. “Now I remember why I always wanted to smack you, Thrower.” “I like the thought of being smacked by you, Isles, but I promise to be good.” She gave him a dubious look, but she didn’t bother to hide the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. Thrower was a charmer when he wanted to be, albeit a teasing one. It had to be the circumstances they were in that brought them closer together. Shrugging the thought away, she gave him a brief explanation. “We were running from a hallucination you were having about bugs, when we come face to face with four prisoners–a Monack, a Juzzaar, a human and a Karatzin. The Monack made the mistake of shifting into some kind of hideous bug and you went for him. I managed to shoot the Juzzaar, but then the walls collapsed and those lava worms appeared. We started to run but then the Monack turned back and tried to attack me. You rescued me, but before you and the Monack could go for it again, the walls collapsed and this time red-hot lava came out, and it happened to hit the Monack on his arm. In fact, it covered his arm. I’ve never seen a Monack shift to so many different species so fast. He high-tailed it off, and we ran after him.” “We chased him?” “We ran from the lava stream, moron.” “You sweet talker, you.” “Yeum, the human prisoner, kept pace with us, and hence was with us when we found the opening to the tunnel a couple of floors below. At that time, he was…well, you couldn’t call him normal, but he wasn’t withdrawing enough to be too much of a danger right then, so I used him to help me get you around.” “Around?” “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you.” Isles patted his arm lightly. “I had to stun you three times, and you sort of went unconscious.” “Sort of?” Both brows were up so high she wondered they didn’t disappear into his hairline. “Thrower, don’t take this personally, but when you were after my blood, I had to do something.” His features hardened, but she read the shame in his eyes. “Isles, I would never hurt you when I’m not going through this cursed withdrawal, you know that, don’t you?” “Yeah, I know.” “I’m sorry.” “There’s an interesting piece to your addiction, too. Want to hear the rest?” “Yeah.” “Yeum was going on about being kept in a holding cell in the disused mining tunnel, and how they were being experimented on with a combination of reefer and Styx. Do you know about reefer, Thrower?” “I’ve heard a whisper on the streets. It’s sort of like Styx, but more potent. Unpredictable.”

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“Well, it was news to me. Anyway, these prisoners were supposed to be set free by the girlfriend, who was coming down a secret tunnel or something to rescue them at some time.” “He didn’t know when?” “He only knew enough to intrigue me.” Thrower frowned. “Anyway, this prisoner, who is a Level Sixteen, knew you were in withdrawal. I’m putting two and two together here and I think it’s all adding to four. I think this girlfriend was planting the Styx drug for the dealer to put on the cleanbot for you to find. They wanted you addicted, obviously for blackmail later.” “Blackmail, how?” Going by the look on Thrower’s face, he wasn’t the least bit amused. “Think about it. If what Yeum said was true, how could this girlfriend free her lover boy without the monitors picking it up somewhere? Now if she were able to blackmail you through addiction, you’d be able to fiddle the monitors somehow so no-one would know of the escape.” “That’s stupid.” She leaned back and arched one brow. “Why?” “Because I’d never assist a prisoner to escape, that’s why!” “Sunshine, I’ve news for you. If you’re so addicted to Styx, you’d do anything for it, and then allowing one prisoner to get free might not be so bad.” Thrower’s scowl grew thunderous. “I’m no traitor.” “You’d be blackmailed, and your thigh would be giving you agony, no relief unless you did one thing…and let’s not forget, you’d be seriously addicted.” There was no way she was going to be able to convince Thrower of anything, she could see, so now it was time to hit where it hurt. “If you’re mad enough to try and kill me, Thrower, and you knew the consequences of the withdrawal, don’t you think allowing one prisoner to escape would be worth no blood loss, no pain and no violence?” Thrower’s jaw clenched, and then he looked at her furiously. “Read my lips, Isles. I would not be a traitor. If it came to that, I’d have turned myself in to Riggeur and told him what was happening. I would never allow myself to be blackmailed.” Not so certain about that, Isles kept silent. “I took the Styx because I could buy it. I had no idea I was so addicted. But never in my right mind would I have been blackmailed to allow any of the scum that reside here free. You have my word on that, Isles.” His eyes narrowed. “My word as a guard, a soldier… a man.” It was obvious he truly believed what he said, which made Isles wonder if she’d been too quick to judge him. But drugs and addiction were powerful tools, and wielded by the right person… “Anyway,” she said, changing the topic, “What do you think of the story?” “Yours or the prisoners?” “My, we are recovering well, aren’t we? Almost back to our bad tempered old self.” Dropping his head back against the wall, Thrower blew out a tired breath and remained like that for a whole minute.

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Never one for wasting time, Isles debated which direction they should traverse down the tunnel. To the right was the prison…maybe. To the left out further into the planet…maybe. “Sorry,” Thrower snapped. “What?” “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to lose my temper.” Isles nodded. “Seriously. I’ll try not to snap and snarl.” She nodded again, refraining from arching one brow. Thrower had a quick temper and there was no way he was going to be able to keep that little promise for long. “You don’t believe me.” “I believe you’ll try.” Until you flip out again and try to kill me. Again. He sighed. “Okay, the story. The prisoner’s story sounds wild, but I’d put nothing against the Duran Corporation. And if you haven’t seen other prisoners apart from those four, maybe it’s all true.” Isles nodded. “That’s what I thought.” “Maybe.” He stressed the word. “Or it could be a complete bullshit story.” “True.” “And guess where that leaves us?” “Still in this tunnel?” “Exactly. Still lost in these damned tunnels.” Grimacing, he glanced around. “With three dangerous prisoners somewhere—maybe more.” “Don’t forget the lava worms.” “How could I? Ugly bastards.” He pushed away from the wall and braced his legs apart. “Now what? Which direction do we go in?” Glad that Thrower focused on their predicament and not losing it just yet, Lucia rubbed her jaw consideringly. “Just what I was wondering. I think if we go right, we might end up near the prison. Maybe. Left, we might end up further into the planet. Or not.” “I think that way was the prison.” Thrower pointed to the right. “Or was it…” He looked to the left. “No, no. I’m sure it was the right. Maybe.” “You’re as decisive as me.” “How about we toss a coin?” “Oh, that’s an intelligent move.” Retrieving the pouch, she checked the water bottles and dried fruit. “One and a half bottles of water, and still a packet of dried fruit. We’re doing okay.” “For now.” “Don’t rain on my parade, Thrower.” “You’re just so much fun to tick off.” She slanted him a wry look, enjoying the banter which helped make the seriousness of the situation a little easier to bear. “So.” Thrower looked around. “Which way?” “I wish I knew.” Surprised, he stared at her. “What?”

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“You’re normally so sure of everything, Isles. I think this is the first time I’ve heard you say otherwise.” It was her turn to stare at him in surprise. “Isles,” he stated, “You’re one of the most self-sufficient women I know. You put up with no crap, and you know what you want and where you’re going. You don’t sweat the small stuff.” “This is hardly small, Thrower,” she returned dryly. “I know. I’m just so used to you being sure about everything.” “Now I’ll feel bad if I get us even more lost.” She smiled, glancing away to hide the sudden fear in her eyes. What if she led them the wrong way? “Hey.” Thrower touched her shoulder. “Mm?” “Isles, you got us further than anyone else would have. I’m grateful for that. We’re already sort of lost, how much worse can it get?” “We could get eaten by lava worms.” “The lava worms are below us. I think. What’s your strategy for that?” “I say we should head up wherever we can.” “So what matter if we go right or left? Every chance we get along the way, we head up.” Lucia touched his hand on her shoulder. “You know, Thrower, you’re such a likable man when you’re not being a total ass.” “Gosh, thanks.” Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath. Looking left and right, she deliberated. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Thrower take a few limping steps, the pain etched into his face. Whichever route they chose, it was going to be hard for him. “Ready when you are,” he said. Moving across to him, she edged her shoulder beneath his armpit and started forward. “I can walk myself.” He baulked. “This is no time for manly pride. You’re hurt.” “So are you.” “And when I need some help, you’ll give it to me. Until then, I’m the stronger, so let’s move.” And my head is pounding but I won’t think about that right now. ***** Thrower didn’t like leaning on Isles, but as they progressed further down the tunnel, his head swam, nausea roiled in his gut and his thigh throbbed. It was either lean on her or fall over. Expecting her to start buckling beneath his weight, he was surprised when she kept moving with no sign of strain. Her slim body was stronger than he expected. True, he’d noticed how she pumped weights back at the gymnasium, but in all truthfulness, the times he hadn’t been battling pain, he’d been battling a bit of lust for his second-in-command. Every weight she lifted, every resistance pulley she strained against, made her breasts press most enticingly against her shirt. Every darned time. But his training in the military had made him respect her seniority, and one didn’t fool with the upper ranks.

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Bugger that. Thrower grimaced. Life, he decided, was too short. Look around, he told himself. You’re lost in a tunnel, in a bad way, your second-in-command isn’t too crash hot herself, and who gives a flying fig about seniority for ranks? Isles is an attractive woman and I like her. And once we get out of here, I’m taking her to that dinner. No joke. “No joke,” he stated. “Pardon?” Isles flicked a glance up at him. “I’m taking you to dinner when we get out of here.” “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not letting you go back on that word.” They continued onwards. It seemed as though they walked for hours. Several times they stopped to rest and doze. Time had no real meaning now. ***** Thrower leaned more heavily on her, his eyes bright with fever and his breathing labored as they pushed onwards. Lucia herself felt so tired, the exhaustion finally setting in on her. It took all her strength and determination to keep moving, and the another hour passed as she automatically placed one foot in front of the other. Her eyes felt gritty, and several times she caught herself slowing right down and her eyes starting to close. She’d never felt so weary in her life. “Isles.” Thrower’s voice was a quiet rasp. “Yeah?” “We need to rest.” “A bit further—“ “You’re going to fall where you stand. You’re exhausted.” He looked at her. “I’ll be fine.” “Then leave me behind—“ “That is not even up for discussion.” She stumbled, swore when he gasped in pain, and steadied them both. “Isles, if any escaped prisoners attacked now, we’d be in no condition to fight back.” His arm around her shoulders tightened a fraction. “We need to rest, rebuild our energy, otherwise we won’t make it anyway.” It made sense, but she didn’t want to stop. If they could just push on a bit more, cover a bit more distance. Blinking, she looked up into the dimness. “Isles, listen to me.” Thrower met her gaze with his fever-bright eyes. “I was a soldier, I know what I’m talking about. There is a time to rest, and we’ve reached it.” “Thrower—“ “Exhaustion breeds carelessness.” And they couldn’t afford to be careless, Lucia knew. With a sigh, she drew to a halt. Silently they looked around. “Okay.” She eased her weight off one aching foot, then the other, switching positions. “But we need somewhere a bit more sheltered to lie low in just in case any prisoners come through here. I can’t risk them finding us while we rest.” “Fair enough.” Thrower nodded. “We can continue until we find a safe place.”

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Taking a deep breath, Lucia started forward again. Once she’d stopped it was harder to regain the monotonous momentum of movement, but through sheer determination she managed. It was another twenty minutes before they stumbled across the ideal ‘hidey-hole’, as Thrower called it. A minor cave-in had made a pile of boulders on the right, and behind it was a small, natural alcove hidden by the rocks. They would have passed it unnoticed except that they were looking for a sheltered spot. The alcove Lucia discovered when she clambered over the rocks to see if there was room to hide behind them. It went back a fair way, and was out of sight from anyone passing through the tunnel. It was the ideal spot to recuperate in dubious but relative safety. Getting Thrower over the rocks took the last of her energy, and by the time they had slumped down inside the alcove, she doubted she could have gone another step. Determined to doze while Thrower slept, Lucia struggled to keep her eyes open, and before long she slipped into a light sleep. It was the soft moaning that woke her, and she came awake with a start, stumbling to her feet and looking around wildly, already in a defensive stance. Nothing moved in the alcove except Thrower, who shifted restlessly on the ground, his brow furrowed with pain. Even in deep sleep, his teeth were gritted together and another moan slipped through. “Crap.” Moving to his side, Lucia knelt down and placed her hand on his brow. It was burning. Taking the water bottle, she patted down his face as best she could. Restless, Thrower turned his face away. Laying the bottle aside, she gently trailed her fingertips down his rough-hewn cheeks, speaking soothingly as she did so. “It’s all right, Thrower. I’m here. You’re not well, but it’s okay.” As okay as it can be, considering we’re in the underbelly of the planet with God knows who or what else running around. She started when he turned his cheek into her palm. Nestling closer, his moans eased a little. With a small smile and an unexpected flash of tenderness, Lucia rubbed his cheekbone lightly with her thumb, and was rewarded with an easing of his furrowed brow. When he quieted, she made to shift away, but as soon as she did so he started moaning and shifting restlessly again, his hand seeking her out to latch onto her arm. “Thrower, it’s all right.” Even deeply asleep he hung onto her. Lucia knew instinctively what he sought, the companionship of another being. In his fevered state, he needed the reassurance of someone being near. Compassion welled up in her, and she eased herself down beside him, intending to simply hold his hand or stroke his cheek, but she was caught by surprise when he rolled onto his side against her, his cheek coming to rest on her shoulder, his short hair tickling her jaw. One strong arm flopped over her belly and he slipped deeper into a more restful sleep, his breaths coming long, slow, and easy. Uh-oh. Now what? Biting her bottom lip, Lucia gazed down at his face to see his lips parted slightly. In sleep, he looked like a tired, sick boy. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right.

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Thrower couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a man, but he did look younger with the furrows of fevered distress easing from his forehead. The strength of his body was more than obvious in the hard planes pressed to her softer curves, and she felt a strange warmth slip through her. He was good-looking, she couldn’t deny that, and combined with the little bit of humor she’d seen at different times, she was starting to find him… Hells bells, I can’t think like that right now! The man is sick! We’re stuck in this nightmare, and I’m thinking how attractive he is! She bit her lip. Oops. I did not just think that! I’m tried, that’s all. Exhausted. I just need to rest and I’ll be back to normal. Pushing any thoughts she didn’t deem appropriate from her mind, she closed her eyes, intending to doze once again. Without thought she curled her arm up around his shoulders and held him in her embrace. Strangely comforted herself by his nearness, she slipped into weary sleep. ***** Blinking slowly, Thrower thought how wonderfully soft his pillow was, and nestled his cheek against it. His throbbing leg had dulled down to a dim ache, something that happened at times for unknown reasons. The pain just came and went, or stayed, but at different levels. This dim ache was something he could tolerate, and he sighed in relief. Still slightly feverish, he was more lucid than he had been, and when he blinked again, he saw where he was. In the small alcove behind the rock fall, with his head resting on…Isles’s breast? Surprised, he raised his head and looked down the length of her curvaceous body, and then he tilted his head back to find that he had, indeed, been resting his cheek on her plump breast. Well, well. Grinning, he propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at her. In sleep, his no-nonsense second-in-command was really cute. That was the only word he could think to describe her. Those soft, full lips were slightly parted, and her lashes were thick, dark fringes on her high cheekbones. Her thick hair was in disarray, yet it only added to her wanton innocence. Whoa! Wanton innocence? Where’d that come from? With interest, he took a second look at her face. Those plump lips were made for kissing, the fullness making him curious to see if they tasted as sweet as they looked. I must still be feverish. Isles will kill me if I even dare to kiss her. But then, I could blame it on withdrawals or something. Am I mad? Shaking his head, he started to push away, only to be distracted by her low sigh and the sight of her little pink tongue flicking across her lips before she settled into sleep once again. Swallowing, Thrower glanced away and lowered his hand from where he’d unconsciously been reaching to trace the tempting fullness of her lips. His palm landed right on her breast, the mound of it filling his hand, the little nipple budding through her uniform against his palm. Closing his eyes, Thrower took a deep breath, only closing his eyes only made him more aware of the sensation of her nipple pressing into his hand. Heat shimmered through him, and he swallowed again.

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Isles murmured softly and shifted her back, arching up slightly as she unconsciously pressed into his hand. Legs shifting, she turned her head to face him. He had to taste that lush mouth. She’s so deeply asleep, she’ll never know. Just one taste, one quick kiss. Leaning down carefully, Thrower lightly laid his lips against hers, and when she didn’t awaken or pull away, he gently moved his lips in the lightest of caresses. It caught him by pleasant surprise when she opened her mouth slightly, and unable to resist the temptation, he deepened the kiss, angling his head to fit his lips comfortably over hers. When her lips moved beneath his, searching almost, he traced her bottom lip with his tongue, groaning mentally when the tip of her own tongue brushed against his. Heat washed through him as her body arched up more into his, and he moved his hand to cup her breast, thumbing her nipple lightly but consistently, feeling it pebble into begging hardness. Shifting, Isles turned into him, her arms slipping up around his neck. Forgetting all caution, Thrower slipped his tongue past her lips and entered her mouth, flicking deep inside, tasting her and absorbing her honeyed sweetness into him. Her mouth was a hot cavern of hidden delights, her taste tantalizing him, making him seek more of her delicious nectar. As she responded to him, he became more demanding, plundering the depths of her mouth, taking control of her kisses, making her moan for more even as he took from her. Sliding his hand to her other breast, he placed his palm on the soft mound and massaged the fullness, feeling the answering bud of her other nipple. Curvy hips moving restlessly, Isles pressed against his body. Lifting his head to take a deep breath, he found himself looking down into her dark, slumberous, very much bedroom eyes. Her kiss-swollen lips were pink and begged for more, he sucked in another breath as she slid her tongue along her lips and whispered, “You taste so good.” It was like a match to kindling. The heat that swept through him now started to sizzle, and he felt his staff, already partially aroused, stiffen even more. ***** Lowering his head, Thrower touched his lips to the pulse that fluttered so heatedly in the side of her throat, and Lucia gasped as he swept his tongue across it roughly, the damp rasp of it making her shiver and grow hotter. Her breasts felt full, heavy, aching for his touch, but that magical hand was sliding down her stomach before finally stopping just at the base of her abdomen. His fingers traced circles, bumping smoothly over the top of her mound, and she could feel every movement even through her uniform. Then his hand slid lower and he wedged the width of it between her thighs in a silent command to open for him, and she obeyed. As his hot mouth nibbled down the side of her throat, his palm cupped her sex through the uniform, he pressed his palm high against her, rubbing carefully but firmly. The friction of the material and the insistent movement of his palm against her tender flesh made her gasp out his name as she pushed her hips into his hand, seeking relief while her blood coursed heatedly through her, little sparks dancing just beneath her skin. When he removed his hand and trailed it back up her abdomen, she caught his jaw in her hand and moved him back up to her mouth.

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Now it was her turn to devour him, to demand entrance so she could taste his masculine essence, and she reveled in it. The top of her uniform being unzipped went unnoticed, but she sure noticed when his bare palm, rough with calluses, once again massaged her breast. Fire burned from her nipple to her hot core, the invisible strings of desire making her moan. It was epicurean and so much more. In turn she pulled at his zipper, hearing the dull rasp of it as she tugged it right down to his flat abdomen. Instinctively they both rose up onto their knees, urgently kissing still, the storm of desire consuming them both. She pushed the uniform from his shoulders and down to his waist, freeing his arms. Now she could run her fingers over his muscles, explore the dips and rises of his torso, and marvel at the strength she’d seen but never felt. His skin was warm, his chest smooth. Dipping his head again, he captured her lips to demand entrance once more, taking command as he seemed wont to do. At this stage, she was quite happy to allow him to take control, for she enjoyed a bit of mastery. And Thrower, it seemed, enjoyed being the master at times. Her uniform top was tugged down, freeing her breasts to his hands, he cupped them, pressing them against her body before pressing himself against her, flattening her breasts against the hard planes of his chest. Even as she shoved his pants down over his lean hips, he was doing the same to her. Then he laughed, low and throatily, and she lifted her head inquiringly. “Sweetheart, I doubt we’re going to get anything off with our boots on.” He nipped her chin playfully, a touch aggressively. “I can fix that.” In one smooth motion, she stood and toed her boots off. “Wait.” Rising up on his knees, he hooked his fingers into the uniform where it bunched at her waist, and looked up at her with eyes that were totally hedonistic. “Allow me, Ma’am.” “Oh, I’m Ma’am now.” She grinned sultrily down at him. “Am I in charge?” “Another time. This time it’s me, baby.” He slid her uniform down over her hips, past her knees, and used his hands at the backs of her knees to raise her feet from the ground so that he could whip the uniform off completely. Dropping it to the floor, he placed his lips against her stomach and breathed, “Just beautiful.” About to reply teasingly, she sucked in her breath when his tongue dipped into her belly button, and the fingers of his free hand slipped around to her bottom. Trailing in shivering-inducing movements, his fingers tickled lightly along the crease of her buttocks, stopping only when he couldn’t go any further. The whole time he nibbled her belly, making her insides melt into what felt like molten lava-laced desire. Lucia was surprised she didn’t go up in flames when he drew his hand back to slide one finger through the curls protecting her sex. “Spread your legs, Lucia,” he commanded almost roughly. “Now.”

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Instinctively she obeyed, arching her head back as his finger slid through the protective folds of her labia to the hidden treasures within. Unerringly he found her clitoris, rubbing the swollen little bud until she heard herself whimpering and felt her knees trembling. But still he wasn’t finished with her. Laying his finger against the seam of her body, he rubbed the full length against her, ensuring he pressed on the opening to her body, and growled with satisfaction. “You’re so wet already, Isles. So wet and hot and needing.” “Oh, God, yes,” she breathed. Flames licked under skin, and desire pooled hotly, achingly, in her loins. “Jonathon…please…” “In a minute, baby.” He stood up smoothly, almost seeming to have forgotten about his leg. “Thrower, your thigh,” she began hazily, reaching for him. “It’s fine at the moment.” He toed off his boots and stripped his uniform off. Turning, he laid it down on the ground, and then moved to face her again. “Now come here—“His words ended on a gasp. When he’d turned away and bent to lay the uniform on the ground, Isles had a view of his tight buttocks, muscular back and strong legs. The need to touch him again, to explore him as he’d done her, had her stepping forward and reaching for him. No sooner had he turned to face her than she placed her finger right on the swollen, throbbing tip of his penis. Catching it, she rubbed the end, slicking the drop of semen that seeped out over the head. He was large, thick, long, and she licked her lips as she looked up at him. Thrower’s cheeks were flushed, his nostrils flaring slightly as he looked directly into her eyes. Hot passion, tightly leashed but dangerously near the edge, was banked in his dark eyes. Feeling the power of having him under her control, for however short a time it might be, Isles dropped slowly to her knees before him. Angling her head, she swirled the tip of her tongue around the little slit in the swollen head of his penis before running the very tip of her tongue down the heavy shaft. The tight, heated breath sucked in by her lover made her smile inwardly. She slid her tongue back up the other side of his shaft, and flicked the head once, twice, three times before he grabbed her hair in an almost painful grip and tipped her head back so she could look up at him. She smiled wantonly and licked a drop of his moisture from her lips. “Christ, Lucia!” His words were harsh with pure sexual need. Reaching down, she cupped his heavy sack in one palm and carefully, but firmly, pressed it up against his perineum. Thrower nearly fell to his knees with the sensation. Gently she drew the heavy sac away from his body and massaged with the lightest, most careful of movements. “Enough!” Nostrils flaring, eyes burning hedonistically, Thrower grabbed her upper arms and dragged her up his body, claiming her lips in a searing kiss. His erection pressed between their bodies, the heat of it branding her invisibly with its imprint.

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He ravaged her mouth, plundering the depths, before releasing her to swing her up into his arms. Turning, he dropped to his knees to lay her on top of his uniform, and then in one quick maneuver, he moved over her, his thigh pushing unapologetically between her own. Needing no second bidding, craving him, as she’d never craved any other man, Lucia parted her thighs, cradling his lean hips. Expecting him to simply thrust into her, she was surprised when he laced the fingers of one hand through hers and brought the back of her hand to his lips. Braced on one arm, the muscles bunching powerfully, he positioned himself so that the head of his penis separated the protective folds of skin and came to rest directly against her clitoris. Moving his hips, he massaged the head of his penis against her, making them both moan and arch. It was the most exquisite torture Lucia could ever have thought possible. His slit seemed to suck onto the tip of her clitoris, seeking to devour her even as his seed coated her in a hot slickness. “J-Jonathon.” She stuttered to a halt, moaning as he ground against her a little harder, and she actually felt the slit in the head of his penis open a little and take a bit more of her clitoris. “Oh, God!” His laugh was harsh, hedonistic, and she opened her eyes to see him grinning down at her, his face hard planes of desire. She would have been almost afraid, except for the tenderness in his eyes. “It’s all right, sweetheart.” He dipped his head to kiss her thoroughly, stabbing his tongue deep to raid her mouth of all essence, swallowing her into himself before raising back up again. “Hold on.” Releasing her hand, he braced both his hands on the ground either side of her, pulled back his hips and dragged his hot, engorged erection down to the entrance of her body. “Lucia,” he whispered roughly “Normally I’d go slowly, but I can’t. Not now.” Raising her hips, she whispered back, “Please.”

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Chapter Seven Underground Level Fifteen Mining Shaft Needing no second invitation, Thrower thrust hard and fast into her, filling her with his hard, hot, thick length. Giving no quarter, he thrust hard, his rhythm even, pushing her higher and higher. Slipping one hand beneath her hips, he titled her so that the new angle made him slide against her channel in a slightly different angle. Desire like she’d never felt before surged through her. The sensation of his thickness shoving through her channel, forcing her tight muscles to give in to him, had her squirming, crying out, grabbing his shoulders as she scrabbled for a way to center herself. Thrower was having none of it, pushing her higher relentlessly, almost ruthlessly. Shifting himself so he thrust at a slightly different angle, he moaned in pure, sensual, exquisite pleasure. He stopped against her, buried to the hilt, tipping his head forward so he could watch her as he rotated his hips, the base of his phallus moving around the opening of her vagina, the tender entrance so wet now that it made movement easy–and so wonderfully, slickly erotic. Reaching down, she grabbed his hips, nearly sobbing with the sensations assaulting her in so many ways and so fast. With each little change he made, he sent a different sensation spearing through her, a shiver, a hot flash, a flicker of fire… Tension was in his body as he pushed not only her but him as well to greater heights, searching for that pinnacle he was determined to hurl them over. Heart pounding, body throbbing, Lucia dimly wondered how she could even stay sane. Just when she thought there was nothing else he could do to her, his thumb rubbed her clitoris firmly, and she shattered. Head arched back, she cried out, uninhibited as she flew straight over the pinnacle to shatter in a thousand pieces of bright, hot, electrical shards of pure ecstasy. Dimly she hard Thrower roar her name, and felt his seed spurt deep inside her body. He came and came, just as she orgasmed not once, but twice, as he continued to drive into her until there was nothing left in either of them to give anymore. Collapsed in each other’s arms, the only sound Lucia could hear was their heavy breathing and the pounding of her own heart. She’d just been to the most concupiscence, erotic paradise and back, she was sure. Smiling, she closed her eyes and buried her face in Thrower’s neck. Rolling onto his side, he took her into his arms and cuddled her against him. Closing her eyes, deliciously spent and exhausted, she slipped into sleep. ***** Underground Level Fifteen Mining Tunnel Sometime later

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Lucia awoke with a start. Her naked body was cuddled up to the long, naked body of Thrower. “Oh shit!” Pushing back, she came up onto her elbows to stared down at him. Thick eyelashes fluttered, lifted and his dark eyes gazed up at her. For a moment he was puzzled, but then he grinned faintly. “Hello, Isles.” “Hello?” Turning over onto her back, she scanned the area for her uniform, and seeing it not far from her, she rolled to her feet and hurried over to it. Grabbing it, she hurriedly shoved one foot into a trouser leg, hopping to keep her balance as she started to pull it on. “Isles?” Frowning, Thrower sat up slowly, and as he did so, his mouth dropped open. “Oh!” “’Oh’ is right!” She pulled the other pants leg on. Getting more slowly to his feet, he winced. Looking down he saw his own uniform and picked it up. Shaking the dirt form it, he limped painfully over to the alcove wall and leaned against it while he pulled his uniform on. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, Lucia turned her back to him as she zipped up the front of her uniform with a shaking hand and stamped into her boots. Finally dressed, she blew out a long breath and swiped one hand down her face. Her skin smelled like Thrower. A touch dusty, true, but masculine. Yummy. “Oh, crap.” She shook her head. “Isles?” “What?” Her voice came out sharper than she intended. “Look at me.” Like I want to do that! However, apart from spending the rest of their time together without looking at him, there was no choice but to face him now. Besides, she hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of. Oh right, like you didn’t just boink a sick man! Decently dressed, but with a definite pain-filled pull to his mouth, Thrower met her gaze soberly. “I guess I should apologize.” “You were ill,” she muttered. “It was my fault.” He was silent for several long seconds, then he sighed. “Isles, I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to apologize after all.” “Like I said, my fault.” Seeing him have difficulties getting his boots on, Lucia took a deep breath and crossed to his side. Kneeling down with one boot in hand, she steadfastly avoided looking at his groin, which was directly before her eyes. Oh God, I was licking him…right there! Oh God…God, it was yummy! It was– No! “That’s not what I was thinking.” Thrower waited silently until she’d encased his foot securely in his boot and had started to slide the other on. “Isles, I took advantage of you.” “You reckon?” She pulled his boot in place and stood up. “I think it was the other way around.” When she would have stepped back, he took hold of her arm in a firm grip. She looked down archly at it before transferring her gaze to meet his…and immediately felt her cheeks flush under his warm regard.

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“I woke up first, and I couldn’t resist kissing you,” he stated simply. “I didn’t mean for it to go so far.” Lucia cleared her throat. “I should have had enough sense not to continue with a sick man.” “You think I was hallucinating or something? That’s why I made love to you? Mindblowing love,” he added. She thought that was rather unnecessary, and frowned. “Thrower, you’re not well and in my care. I was careless in not thinking of our surroundings, and of…of…” “Giving in to me?” “Uh-huh.” This was harder than she thought. “Tell me, Isles, did you enjoy it?” Surprised, she blinked at him. “Because I sure as hell did.” Concerned, she placed her hand against his brow. “You’re still not well, are you?” Catching her hand, he brought it down to rest on his chest, and when she attempted to withdraw it, he held on a little tighter. “We could die down here.” Tugging on her hand, she replied, “I know that, Thrower.” “So I want you to know something.” “Let go—“ “I was completely lucid when I made love to you.” He ignored her skeptically raised brows, a determined expression coming onto his face. “If I had been running a fever, I wouldn’t have had the strength to do what we did, and if I hadn’t been lucid, I sure as hell wouldn’t be remembering what we did.” His gaze dropped to her lips. She bit them uncertainly. “In fact, I enjoyed it.” His voice dropped a little. “Did you, Isles?” “Thrower, I—“ “Did you?” “This is really not the place—“ “When is the place? We could die down here, and if this isn’t the place to be truthful, then there will never be the right place.” Allowing her hand to slide free, he met her gaze steadily. “Did you enjoy it, Isles?” Taking a deep breath, Lucia regarded him back just as steadily. He was correct in that they might not make it out of here alive, so what matter if she admitted that yes, he’d practically burned the short and curlies off her mound with his carnal lovemaking? “Yes.” Immediately she felt her cheeks grow hot under his dark eyes. But no coward, she straightened her shoulders and looked just as steadily back at him. “Was that so hard?” he asked softly. “You have no idea.” He grinned openly, yet seductively, making her tingle in places she thought had burned out not long ago with the fire he’d lit inside her. “I admit to enjoying it, Isles, and wanting to repeat it another time.” “My God, you are feverish!” Instead of the anger she’d expected to come at his words, she felt the ridiculous urge to grin back at him.

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Stars above! I can’t believe I’m standing here discussing the sex we shouldn’t have had, with a man who normally annoys the hell out of me, and I feel like giggling like some giddy flirt! Or a flirt that’s attracted to Thrower a little voice said in the back of her mind. Aw crap. “No, I know exactly what I’m saying. Isles, I’ve been attracted to you for a long time.” Her mouth fell open. “What?” “You heard.” He didn’t look even a little embarrassed, his expression frank. “I was just too caught up in my own problems. But down here—“ “It’s the situation,” she replied. “Everything.” “Maybe,” he conceded, “But Isles, if we ever get out of here, I’m warning you, I think I’m going to come courting.” The very idea made Lucia give a spontaneous burst of laughter. “Is that such a revolting thought?” he asked quietly. Instantly sobering, she looked at him seriously. Really looked. Never one to try and fool herself–heck, if she couldn’t be honest with herself, she was an outright coward–Lucia ran her gaze over his face, taking in the determined, square jaw, the masculine lips and his steady, honest eyes. Okay, she was attracted to him. She’d thought him attractive before they’d made love, and that was when he was feverish. Now…now she found him even more attractive. The glimpse she’d had of his humor, however fleeting at times, and the fact that…yes, even the fact that when he’d been hallucinating and thought there were bugs chasing him, he’d thought of her and dragged her along with him to what he thought was safety. And he was honest. She couldn’t fault him there. Well, apart from the Styx, but she had no doubt he was regretting it now. What harm to admit that she found him attractive? “All right.” She took a deep breath. “I find you attractive. But!” Forestalling anything further he might say, she held up one hand. “But Thrower, there will be no more hanky panky until we’re safely away from this planet.” A strange expression was on his face, a glint of laughter and relief in his eyes. “You mean there’s hanky panky after we’re off here?” “That’s not quite what I meant—“ “Well, what quite did you mean?” “Suddenly I feel like punching you.” “I’m a sick man, remember?” “Sick my ass.” “Can I answer that about your cute little ass?” “No.” His grin was pure devilment, but what caught her attention more was the tenderness in his eyes. Stepping back, she regarded him seriously. “We’re in a lot of danger here, Thrower. There are lava worms, cave-ins, red-hot magma, and dangerous prisoners. You’re not well. We have to get out of here. That’s what we need to concentrate on now.” “You’re right.” Soberly, he pushed away from the wall. “I can’t forget what happened between us, Isles, but you’re right. Now is not the time to pursue it, or my intentions. Once we’re safe, we can discuss it.”

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The man had no shame, no embarrassment, and a lot of hide. Any woman who finds that a turnon is sick. I am a sick woman. “So is this going to make a difference between us now?” Thrower asked quietly. “Awkward? I can tell you it won’t on my part.” “No,” she replied slowly. “I mean, I do know more about you now–are you smirking?” “No, Ma’am.” How the hell she could feel comfortable with him after what they’d just done and said, Lucia had no idea. But she was damned relieved she did, for it allowed her to say with assurity, “We stick together and work through this first. Later…” “Later?” “Later, we’ll see what happens.” “Over dinner?” He started to move forward, staggered, and gritted his teeth against the pain. Quickly moving to his side, she took up her position with her shoulder in his armpit, taking his weight easily. “This dinner is going to cost you.” “I hope so.” Resting his arm across her shoulders, he adjusted his weight. “You’re a sick man, Thrower.” Unable to hide her amusement, Lucia helped him across to the boulders that hid their little sanctuary. “You could always kiss my hurts better.” He coughed. “Later.” “You are such an ass.” “Thanks, Isles. From you, that’s a compliment.” And just like that, they fell back into their easy-going relationship, though Lucia had to admit she was more aware of Thrower now as a man, than just a workmate. And oddly enough, that wasn’t even alarming. ***** Underground Level Fifteen Mining Tunnel Looking down at the dead body, Arcor pursed his lips. Yeum was dead, his head bashed in by someone, probably one of the guards. “How did they mange to kill him?” Hemla asked. “Yeum was pretty high on Styx.” “Maybe they managed to kill him before he became psychotic.” “You think?” “How else?” Peering down at the dirt floor, he studied the footprints, but apart from a lot of scuff marks, there was no real answer there. But there were several things he found interesting. “There’s blood on this rock.” He picked it up. “Maybe the guards used it to hit Yeum with,” Hemla suggested. “Maybe. The other thing is this.” Arcor pointed to the floor. “Footprints.” “Leading that way.” Hemla licked his lips and grinned. “The guards, two of them, one female and the other male.” There was a light in the Karatzin’s eyes that Arcor recognized. Lust. It had been a long time since the Karatzin had had a woman. In fact, it had been a long time for himself, too, but he was more intent on other things.

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“I want the female alive.” Hemla started forward in the direction of the footsteps. “Until I’ve had enough of her.” “Fine.” Arcor shrugged. “But don’t kill her until we get out of here.” “They’re as lost as we are,” Hemla scoffed. “They must have a better idea of where they’re going than we do.” “They’re guards, Arcor, not miners.” The Karatzin’s lips twisted in disgust. “We’d be better off if we’d stumbled across miners instead of guards.” There was no arguing that statement. They continued onwards, following the footprints. The hours were ticking past, but he knew they were gaining on them. One of the sets of prints was dragging slightly, and there were markings where they’d sat and rested. “Wounded,” Hemla pronounced with satisfaction. “Which one, though?” “Doesn’t matter. Neither of them are strong enough to take us on. Guards are only brave when we’re behind high voltage and can’t touch them.” Arcor took a sip from one of the water bottles they’d taken from the scientists before leaving the holding cells. There hadn’t been any food down there, which was a shame. He was so hungry he could eat a bearcat. He slanted a glance at Hemla. But not hungry enough to eat a Karatzin. He grinned to himself. Around them sounded distant rumbles, and he looked up at the dirt ceiling above them. The earth might be compacted, but little bits of it came skittering down now and again. It was only a matter of time before it collapsed. Even as he thought it, a huge chunk of ceiling came crashing down in front of them. Swearing, they both backed off and looked around, worried more might follow, but when the dust cleared they found themselves gazing up a pile of rubble to an opening in another tunnel above them. “Up,” he stated, and crossed to the rubble. “The woman.” Hemla scowled. “Hemla, if screwing a guard is more important right now than getting up to the surface, you go for it.” Arcor started climbing the pile of stone and dirt. “I’m going up.” Scowling, his eyes glittering, the Karatzin looked at the direction they’d been going in, then up at the opening into the tunnel above them. Even in his escalating psychotic state, the survival instinct was strong. With a curse, he followed Arcor. Pulling himself up into the next tunnel, Arcor dusted off his hands and gazed about. It was dark, but his eyes adjusted easily, and he took the glasses off and stowed them in the pocket of his overall. Like most tunnels, he could go left or right, and as he’d been going to the right anyway, he turned and strode off in that direction, Hemla not far behind. Another hour passed, and then he heard them faintly. Two voices talking, one trying to reason, the other impatient. Raising his hand, he halted. The voices echoed, coming through the rock, and he looked at Hemla, who shrugged, perplexed.

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Cautiously he moved forward, poised to duck if anyone came around the corner. The voices were male and female. The guards. But the tunnel ahead was still empty. Then he saw it, an opening in the floor through which the dimmest of lights shone. Creeping forward, he stopped once he got them in view. The guards were in the tunnel below, standing almost directly beneath the hole. The man looked sick, his skin sweaty and pale. He was leaning on the female guard’s shoulder. And the female guard had dried blood in her hair. The tension from Hemla was more tangible when he spotted the female, and he let out a low hiss. Instantly Arcor scowled at him, and he subsided. But the guards hadn’t heard anything, and Arcor listened with interest to their conversation. “Isles, I’m slowing us down.” “We stick together, Thrower,” the woman, Isles, replied. “You’d go faster without me. You could get help and—“ “We’ve been through this already. We don’t separate, we go everywhere together. Now sit down and rest.” Slowly, painfully, they started to make their way to the far wall. Now was the time to act. Arcor nodded to Hemla, rose, and dropped down through the hole, landing in a crouch on the dirt floor not far from the guards. Hemla dropped down almost immediately behind him. Shocked, the guards swung around, but Isles was hampered by Thrower’s clumsy, painful movements, and she staggered even as she reached down to her belt. Using the moment to his advantage, Arcor threw himself forward at her, knowing her for the greater threat. But he’d forgotten about Hemla. The Karatzin pushed past him and flew at the woman, grabbing her around the waist and flinging her away from Thrower. Hemla followed her. Swearing to himself, Arcor concentrated on the male guard. It was almost too ridiculously easy. The man went down beneath the Juzzaar’s weight like a plant beneath a boot. Bearing him down to the ground, Arcor felt Thrower start to fight, but his blows were more feeble than they should have been. It was easy to pin him down. Too easy. And he knew why as soon as he saw the guard’s face. Thrower’s pupils were dilated, his face pale with a red patch on each cheek. His lips were dry, his eyes bright, and the heat from his body all combined to tell Arcor that the guard was sick with fever. Drug withdrawal. It all made sense now. The way the guard had been screaming about bugs and attacked Prednal instead of running. Anyone with brains would run from an enraged Monack, but this man had rushed at him. Something only a psychotic would do, something only a man on Styx withdrawal would do. The guard was as hooked on the Styx as the prisoners were. How bloody ironic. He tried to fight, though, but was too weak. With ease, Arcor pulled him to his feet and slammed him back against the wall. The he turned to watch Hemla and the female guard. This guard, he quickly realized, wasn’t in drug withdrawal.

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Attention focused on the Karatzin, she fought with strength and cunning. Hemla rushed her, and she met him head-on, swinging her upper torso at the last second so that her elbow slammed into his jaw, snapping his head to the side. As he veered to that side, she neatly ducked under his swinging arm and came up at his side. Slamming her heel into the back of his knee, she kicked him off balance brought him to his knees. Quickly she jumped onto his back, her hands reaching for his forehead and jaw. Hemla dropped to the floor and rolled, his legs between hers tripping her up so that she fell heavily to the side. He immediately rolled back on top of her, trying to pin her wrists above her head, his harsh laughter of triumph resounding against the walls. “You bastard!” The male guard struggled weakly in Arcor’s grasp. “Leave her alone!” Ignoring him, Arcor watched the fight intently, studying the woman. Slipping her hands free, she swung several hard punches, and blood flew from the corners of Hemla’s mouth. He was shocked by her strength, and stunned by the blows, so when she shoved at him he again flopped to the side, and she followed fast, shoving him over onto his stomach and kneeling above him. Again she reached for his head, her intent to kill him very plain to see. The female guard was going to break Hemla’s neck, and while that didn’t particularly worry Arcor, that left two guards against him, one of them this female who fought with a strength he had never seen elsewhere. In one fast movement, he shoved the male guard back against the rock wall hard–the dull thunk of his head colliding with the surface, effectively stunning him. Then he dropped the guard and moved silently up behind the woman. Sensing him, she threw herself to the side, but it was too late. With one sweeping swipe of his hand, he caught her across the side of her head, the strength behind the blow knocking her to the ground. Following quickly, he grabbed the back of her uniform and swung her around. Already she was coming to and reaching for him, her leg snapping out and her foot catching him just above the knee. Balling up his fist, he threw his strength behind his punch, and one hit to the jaw knocked her out cold. “Bloody bitch!’ Hemla scrambled to his feet and kicked the unconscious woman’s leg. “I’ll kill her!” “Control yourself!” Arcor snapped upon seeing the dull sheen of the Karatzin’s skin. “You’ll poison us all!” Hemla bared his teeth, but at Arcor’s glare, he dropped to his knees beside the female guard and took several deep breaths. Arcor walked back to check the male guard, who moaned softly and crouched down to search the guards belt. Nothing. No weapons, no compad, no nothing. On the ground beside him was a pouch, and opening it up, Arcor found two water bottles. That was something, anyway. “Stop!” The male guard at his feet groaned. “Stop! Leave her alone!” Arcor glanced across at Hemla, to find the Karatzin palming the female guard’s breasts through her uniform top. Hemla breathed heavily, his eyes glazed. Shrugging, Arcor looked down at the guard.

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“For the love of God, stop him!” “Your name’s Thrower?” Arcor asked. “Yes. Please, you must—“ “I don’t have to do anything, Thrower. Now you’re the prisoners, and we’re your guards.” Laughing, Arcor gestured around. “And this is your prison.” The guard looked at him for several seconds, then said softly, “And your grave.” “No. You’re going to tell us the way out of here.” “No, I’m not.” Digging his fingers into Thrower’s shoulders, Arcor watched dispassionately as he shuddered in pain and swore. Slowly he eased his grip. Thrower glanced once more to where Hemla played with the female guard, then he looked up into Arcor’s eyes. “I know the way, but it won’t matter if you kill me, because I’m dying already.” “Withdrawal?” Arcor shrugged. “So?” “So if your friend hurts my partner, I’ll tell you nothing.” “She’ll tell us then.” Thrower shook his head. “She’s second-in-command, which means she lives in the Garrison. Topside. She hasn’t been down to the mines. But I’ve been around a bit longer, I’m a bit nosier. In fact…” his smile was ghostly and weak. “I was screwing one of the female miners, and we came down these tunnels a few times. I know my way around.” “You’re lying.” “No.” “I could torture you, guard. Cut you up into itty bitty pieces until you talked.” “I won’t talk. Hell, I hardly feel a thing now. My nervous system is almost shot. But hurt my friend there, and I’ll tell you nothing. Make that bastard leave her alone, and I’ll lead you out of here.” “I think you’re just saying things to keep my friend from having a good time with your friend.” “You’ll never know if we all die down here, will you?” Thrower’s eyes narrowed. “The planet is falling apart. It’s been mined to hell and back, and there’s no one left here but us. A couple of guards and prisoners.” “You’re lying.” “She knows more.” Thrower nodded towards the female. “But if she’s hurt or killed, she won’t be talking either.” The guard could very well be lying, probably was, in fact. But Arcor wasn’t about to take the chance. He wanted out of this hell hole. “Why do you think we’re trapped down here?” Thrower added. “Why do you think we’re stumbling along, wounded and unable to contact anyone? Because there’s no one there.” “So how do you plan on getting away once you hit the surface?” “There’s a ship up there. My ship. In the parking zone. We get topside and leave in that.” Thrower’s gaze hardened, the look oddly deadly combined with the glitter of fever. “But I’m dying, and that ship is for my friend. If she gets hurt or dies, I tell you nothing. I have nothing to lose you have your life.”

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Without looking around, Arcor snapped, “Hemla. Leave her.” “He’s going to hurt her, Juzzaar,” Thrower rasped. “Time’s running out.” Pushing up, Arcor swung around to see that Hemla already had her uniform top zipped open, and started to rip open the front flap of his overalls. There was only one way to stop him. “Hemla!” he snapped. “Guards!” The Karatzin started, then lunged to his feet and shoved back against the wall, his gaze going wildly from one side to the other. “These guards,” Arcor added. “Know the way out.” “What the fu— what the hell are you doing?” Hemla snarled. “The woman—“ “Listen to me, Hemla. This male guard, Thrower, knows the way out.” “So beat it out of him. I’m busy.” Scowling, Hemla moved towards the woman. “He’s dying, and won’t tell us anything unless the woman remains unharmed.” Crossing to his side, Arcor laid his hand on the Karatzin’s shoulder and added softly, “We need him, Hemla.” The Karatzin shrugged him off angrily. Seeking to reassure and reason with him, Arcor said quietly, “Once he’s led us as far as he can, he’ll die, and you can take the woman any way you want. But we need his cooperation.” “She’ll still be alive even after I’ve had my fun with her,” Hemla snarled. “You rape her and Thrower will tell us nothing. We’ll die down here.” Placing his hand back on Hemla’s shoulder, Arcor added, “I’m not going to die here for a piece of woman. Any woman. I want out of this hell hole, away from these worms, away from these damned tunnels. I want fresh air and freedom, and Thrower and this female guard will get us out.” “You really think they’re telling the truth?” Hemla pointed at thrower. “He’s just anxious to save his own hide and that of his woman! Have you asked him how he came to be trapped down here?” Arcor raised his brows at Thrower. “The control room collapsed, up in The Garrison,” Thrower whispered. “We were trapped and could only get out through the Environmental shaft, but we were attacked by these lava worm things, and fell down the shaft. Came out in a tunnel…came to…Level…” his eyes fluttered, his breathing becoming more labored. “Cave in…here…” his eyes shut and he stilled, apart from his breathing. “Thrower?” Frowning, Arcor crossed over to squat beside the fallen man. “You still with us?” He certainly didn’t want him to die if he really knew the way out. The guard appeared to be unconscious. Probably the fever. So maybe he really was dying. Hemla looked from Thrower to the female guard. “He’ll never know now.” “And what if she wakes up, Hemla? Use your head!” “Use your head, Arcor! These two pieces of offal are from those who imprisoned us! They’re nothing, and Thrower is probably lying! He might not know the way out, but because you’re worried that he might, you’ll do anything he wants!” Straightening to his full height, Arcor pulled his shoulders back and stared down at the Karatzin. He had to be careful. The Styx withdrawal was entering the bad stage now for

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Hemla. He was becoming careless, and even though bad-tempered now, he’d soon become psychotic. But until then, Arcor had to handle him carefully. He’d kill him now if he could, but he needed him to help with the guards. You can only use what you have at hand, and you, Hemla, are it. Without giving his thoughts away, Arcor said slowly and carefully, “Hemla, you’re going into withdrawal. You need to maintain control if you want to get through this. I promise you, if it proves these guards don’t know anything, then you can kill him and rape her to your hearts content. I won’t even watch. But until then, we need them in one piece. Understand?” Fury burned in the Karatzin’s eyes, his skin again getting that low sheen. He was becoming agitated, his fingers balling up into fists. Baring his teeth, he growled long and low. “The woman is yours, Hemla,’ Arcor said firmly. “You just need to wait a bit longer.” “You have no say in what I do!” Hemla was breathing heavily. “True.” Arcor made a calculated gamble. “You’re free to go on your own way. Me, I intend to go with the guards.” “I could just kill you know, Arcor. You know that, don’t you?” “That’s true. In hand-to-hand combat I’d win. But you could let that gas go and kill me. But you know what else, Hemla?” Arcor dropped his gaze to the female guard stirred slightly. “You’ll kill the two guards as well, and then you’ll be all alone in these tunnels with the lava worms and everything collapsing.” Even as he spoke, a tremor slipped through the earth at their feet, and dirt showered down from above. It couldn’t’ have come at a better time, for Hemla looked up, and Arcor saw the wariness his eyes. Finally, Hemla looked at him and snarled, “Fine. I won’t touch the bitch yet. But one wrong move from these guards and the deal’s off!” Arcor nodded. Now all they had to do was wait for the guards to regain conscious. From the looks of the woman, it wouldn’t be long. Squatting down to see if she had any weapons on her, Arcor added, “There may be other guards topside. We may need these two to swing a bargain for our own lives.” Unappeased, Hemla grunted and slouched back against the wall of the tunnel. ***** Underground Level Eighteen Research Station One The tremors were getting worse. Even this secret shaft showed cracks in the walls. Steam trickled out from one crack low near the floor as she passed, and Manya shuddered inwardly, imagining the hot lava on the other side. Not long now. Another few bends she’d be at the holding cells were. She could get what she came for and get back to the surface, get on the ship and fly. Within twenty four hours she’d be a lady well on her way to a wealthy life…along with her lover, of course. When she finally came to the area, she slowed down and stopped the skimmer. Looking around, she could hear nothing. Had everyone down here fled as well? Shit! Had they taken the disc as well?

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Bolting from the skimmer, she ran towards the station with the holding cells, but at the entrance she stumbled to a halt. Prednal lay on the ground, his mouth stretched open in a silent scream. His arm…Oh God! What was left of his arm was withered, bone covered in dried, blackened flesh and sinew. What had happened? Rushing across to him, she knelt down and bit her lip, tears trickling down her cheeks. He looked like he’d been in agony when he died, the white of his eyes showing, his other arm partly shape-shifted into something. Reaching out, she hesitated. Maybe what had killed him might still be here. What could possibly kill a Monack, though? Who could…Karatzin. The thought swept through her mind, and with a gasp she swung around, her gaze wildly flickering around, searching for the other prisoners. All was silent, expect for a faint hiss of something in the distance. The prisoners were no longer in their cells, and the two scientists were just old, bloodied bodies on the floor. Torn to pieces, no doubt, by Prednal. Wiping a trickle of sweat from her brow, Manya sniffed and swallowed. Had the other prisoners killed Prednal? And what had happened to his arm? Choking back a sob, Manya started to turn away, but then her gaze fell on the console and she remembered the other reason she’d come down here, the one thing that would make her such a wealthy woman. Moving quicker, more nervous now in case the other prisoners appeared, Manya slipped the disc from the recording module and placed it carefully inside the pocket on the inside of her tunic, zipping it securely. The disc was safe. Lingering at the body of her lover, she swallowed back the tears. Then she heard it. The clicking of claws, the squeals, and the sizzling sound. And it was so damnably hot and getting hotter every minute! Not really wanting to know what was coming–maybe it was the Karatzin and that Juzzaar–Manya went back to the skimmer and climbed in, starting it quickly. She’d just gotten it turned around when she saw the shadows on the walls at the bend now behind her. Something long, monstrous, with clacking claws reared up and squealed, another creature of some kind close behind. The smell of heat was in the air, sweat beaded on her brow and drenched her underarms. What the hell could be coming? Shape shifters? The wall not far from her burst open and a nightmarish creature like some kind of worm crossed with a lobster squealed as it came through accompanied by a slow stream of hot lava. Manya didn’t know of any shape shifter with that much power. Fear seared through, followed closely by panic. She didn’t wait any longer. Facing the front, she let loose power and shot off, nearly crashing the skimmer with the sudden surge. The violent swerve caused her lab coat to fly off the seat into the air and disappear behind the skimmer into the dirt. Quickly regaining control, she started back up the shaft, cursing. Her phasers were in the lab coat! But there was no way she was going to be able to get it back. She’d just have to hope she had no need for phasers.

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The squeals faded quickly behind her, but she didn’t feel as though there would ever be enough distance between her and the creatures. Accelerating, she soared up the secret shaft, passing Levels Seventeen, Sixteen, and higher. It took several hours, even with the shaft. In several places she had to slow down as the cracks in the walls widened. Steam came through several, bitter cold through another. She’d just reached Level Twelve when she rounded the bend and came face to face with the legendary bearcat. Standing in the middle of the shaft, it stood like a huge, shaggy nightmare come to life. Seeing her, it reared up and gave a guttural cry, its open mouth revealing the dagger-like fangs and three rows of bared, razor sharp teeth. Flexing long, curving claws, it gave another guttural cry. “Shit!” Slamming on the brakes, Manya did a complete turn and started down the shaft again, this time with the sound of the bearcat crying out angrily behind her. Gradually it faded, and she drew the skimmer to a halt, her heart thudding in her ears. Now what? Below waited some kind of nightmare worm, and above waited a bearcat. Only the bearcat wouldn’t stay there for long, would it? If it did, she could try to fly past it, but the shaggy monster would pounce her in seconds. Trapped. Manya felt like crying. Trapped by the bloody creatures in this godforsaken planet! After an hour had passed, she slowly moved the skimmer back up the shaft, only to come to a stop when she heard several guttural cries. More bearcats and they were closer, coming down the shaft. There was only one thing for it, then. Patting the disc in her pocket, assuring herself it was still there, Manya started moving the skimmer slowly downwards. Now she looked for the tunnel that came off the secret shaft. Unfortunately, she’d have to walk, but once she got into it, she could find her way to the ladders that interlinked the Levels. The tunnel was down on Level Fourteen, and she lowered the skimmer to the ground. Getting out, she picked up the pouch with the water bottle in, and the packet of dried fruit, and started into the tunnel, clutching her torch on one hand. The way she figured it, once she found the steps, it should be smooth sailing. She hoped. It would take her some time to get to the top, but she’d make it. Somehow, she’d make it. She’d come too far, braved too much, risked her entire career, to back out now. Setting her jaw, she started briskly down the tunnel, keeping her eyes trained on the walls as she looked for the steps to freedom. ***** Underground Level Fourteen Mining Tunnel I thought the other day was bad, with the lava worms, and then Thrower going psycho, but this day just has to qualify as the worst. Hands tied behind her back, Lucia Isles worked her jaw, feeling the dull ache within it. Not that I know how many days have passed. One? Two? Maybe.

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She glanced at the Juzzaar who walked ahead of her. Half Banoi she might be, stronger than a lot of human men she might be, but a Juzzaar was more than her match. But if she could get her hands untied, she’d take the big bastard on regardless. Thrower stumbled along beside her, his eyes feverishly bright. After waking up and finding themselves prisoners of the, well, prisoners, she’d been informed by Thrower, in a low voice, of what had occurred. Talk about being up the proverbial creek without a paddle, only Thrower paddled with an imaginary paddle and being pretty convincing about it to. Too bad they were as lost as paradise itself. She had to admit, he’d done a good job of telling the Juzzaar that they had to go up, but it seemed the big humanoid already figured that out. He’d tossed Thrower up at the hole, and the Karatzin who waited above in the tunnel grabbed him carelessly, allowing poor old Thrower to drop to the ground. It was all Lucia could do not to yell abuse to the reptilian lunk-head. Arcor snarled a reprimand, and this time the Karatzin caught Thrower and hauled him up. When her turn came, she was tossed up and relying on the Karatzin to catch her. Bound up like a Christmas turkey with her hands and feet tied, she was helpless. It didn’t stop the slimy bastard from running his hands over her breasts, his eyes glittering with gathering psychosis. Thrower swore, but was helpless to do anything. His shame at his lack of strength shone in his eyes when he looked at her. His rage towards the prisoners was tangible in both his words and tension. She knew he wanted to protect her, hold her close, save her from the prisoners, but they were both helpless. Being helpless wasn’t something either she or Thrower were used to. She tried to convey her understanding to him with her eyes, but she wasn’t so sure he understood. But one thing she did know that Thrower would have given his life for her if he’d been strong enough and free to do so. There was something between them now, something that seemed to have grown from their closeness back in the tunnel. Something that had been growing between them since they’d been trapped in this hellish place. The attraction they’d felt between them, however unacknowledged or unnoticed in the safety of the Garrison, had had time to grow and flourish. It was ironic really that whatever ties they were starting to feel for each other had grown stronger down here. Life was like that, holding surprises wherever you turned. She wasn’t wholly sure how strong her feelings were, but feelings she did have for Thrower. It was more than likely they’d never have the chance to explore those feelings more in-depth if they didn’t get free and out of danger from both the prisoners and the selfdestructing planet. She sighed inwardly, and turned her concentration back to the grim situation around her. The Juzzaar had followed and after obligingly cutting the ties around her boots, he led them down the tunnel. The slimy Karatzin followed, keeping watch on both her and Thrower, but she could feel his gaze on her bottom as they walked, and hear him making lip-smacking noises now and again. Pervert. She had no doubt what he thought when he looked at her.

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As they progressed down the tunnel, it was getting chillier. Maybe they were nearing the prison after all. Or not. “Are you all right?” she asked in concern as Thrower stumbled against her. “Yes.” His eyes were fever bright as he looked at her. “You?” “Just dandy.” “I’m sorry, Lucia.” It was the first time he’d ever used her first name. “It’s not your fault. Neither of us knew they were above us.” He looked away again, and she knew he blamed himself for not being strong enough to fight. Blamed his drug dependency and subsequent sickness from the withdrawal. Well, the man had a point, but there was no use beating him around the head with it. “What are you talking about?” The Karatzin shoved himself between them, nearly sending Thrower staggering into the wall. “Unless you’ve something to say about where we’re headed, keep your mouth shut!” And so it had been the same for hours. Arcor and Hemla striding along with no problems, no doubt the drug in their system making them feel stronger than they normally would have. Thrower staggered, his limp more pronounced, but as the minutes passed, he seemed to regain some strength. She could only hope that the pain was numbing, perhaps. Behind the walls of the tunnel there sounded a faint rumble, and water trickled down in several places. “Must be snow melting somewhere,” she guessed. Arcor turned and looked at her. “The hot magma?” “Yes. There are oceans and lakes forming topside on different parts of the planet.” She looked at him coolly. “The magma is melting some of the ice and snow.” “So we must be near the top!” Hemla stated eagerly. “I doubt it,” Thrower said. “It’s probably just snow melting and trickling down the cracks, coming down into the tunnels.” Hemla scowled. “Then you better get us out fast, guard, ‘cause I don’t like getting wet!” “You wouldn’t fancy a bath right now?” Lucia groaned silently. Thrower just couldn’t stop the smart comments. “Don’t try being funny, guard. You’re only of use to us while you’re walking. If I break your legs, you’ll be useless.” “You’ll have to carry me.” Hemla gave him a backhander, which sent Thrower crashing against the wall. “Hemla!” Arcor snapped. “Leave him!” “He’s a mouthy bastard!” “Ignore him!” Arcor stabbed his finger in Thrower’s direction. “Which direction now?” “Huh?” Thrower looked up from where he was wiping blood from his chin. Looking beyond the Juzzaar, Lucia saw that the tunnel forked to the right and left. Great. “Right,” Thrower said without hesitation. “You’re sure?” “I answered, didn’t I?” Thrower coughed and spat some blood.

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Glancing past the Karatzin, Lucia eyed Thrower. His eyes were bright, but there was something else there apart from fever. Some part of him that sparked alarm bells. He looked a tad reckless. Damn. No way! Catching his eye, she frowned, trying to warn him. Thrower’s expression went bland and he staggered off after Arcor into the right tunnel. Sighing inwardly, she followed. There wasn’t anything she could do about it right now, and with the Karatzin watching her, no little signal she could send to Thrower to warn him to be careful, either. What will be will be. No point worrying about it right now, when she couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

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Chapter Eight Underground Level Fourteen Mining Tunnel They traversed down the tunnel, this one lit dimly again with a few bulbs that hadn’t yet popped. The Juzzaar had replaced his glasses. Lucia didn’t know who was more stunned when they came upon the ladder leading up into the darkness, herself, Thrower, Arcor or Hemla. Though, to give Thrower credit, he managed to replace his surprise with a bored expression when the two prisoners looked at him. “See?” He shrugged. “I told you.” “This is the way out?” Arcor asked, looking up. “Part way. Then we have to continue onwards, maybe into another tunnel if the tremors have damaged the exit.” The man was a fast thinker and an even better liar. He’d nicely covered himself in case the steps led to nowhere. He could always blame a cave-in, and who could argue with that? She smiled to herself. The Juzzaar looked at her, then at Thrower. Thrower coughed, hunching himself up. “I can’t climb with my hands tied behind my back,” Lucia stated. “We could just kill you and leave you here.” Thrower looked up from bloodshot eyes. “She comes or you’re on your own.” “We don’t need you now, anyway,” Hemla sneered. “Didn’t you hear what I said? The way could be blocked, and it only goes partway anyway. So you do need me.” Thrower smiled faintly. “I got you this far. Want me to get you the rest of the way?” Snarling, Hemla started forward, but Arcor stepped between them, his scowl fierce. Only Lucia saw the light of battle in Thrower’s eyes…a light and something else, something that chilled her. Surely he wasn’t going to flip out again? But when Thrower looked up at Arcor, he merely looked sick. “Stop it!” Arcor ordered Hemla. “You go first with the woman behind you, then Thrower will follow and I’ll come behind you. Understand?” The Karatzin’s skin had a dull sheen, and he turned and snarled at Arcor. His eyes gleamed dangerously, and spittle ran from the corner of his mouth. His fingers curled, hooking, and she thought he was going to throw himself at the Juzzaar. Obviously, Arcor thought so as well, for his gaze narrowed warningly and he took on a defensive stance. Hemla roared defiance before swinging away, his teeth bared as he grabbed Lucia and shoved her toward the ladder. “Move, bitch!” The Karatzin walked the edge of psychosis, and she glanced at Arcor, hoping he’d kill the mad reptilian before he turned on them. But Arcor only stepped forward and untied her hands with rough jerks. “Lead the way, Hemla,” he ordered.

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The Karatzin started up the steps, his movements fast. After giving her wrists a quick rub, she followed. Thrower came up behind her, and then the ladder shook as the big Juzzaar brought up the rear. The water trickled down the walls in a more steady flow as they climbed higher. It was definitely more chilly. Thrower was panting, and she could imagine how painful his leg must be with the climbing. Stopping, she glanced down to see the sweat trickling down his pallid face, his eyes shone with pain, but he pressed his lips together and shook his head at her. “Keep moving,” Arcor ordered. With no choice, Lucia did as bidden. The only thing that lightened her heart was the fact that the Levels were marked. They climbed past Levels Thirteen, Twelve, and Eleven. Arcor allowed them to rest on a ledge they came to. Glancing at Thrower’s dry lips, he silently handed a water bottle to Lucia and sipped from the other one before handing it to Hemla. Taking a quick sip, she felt the blissful sensation of the cool liquid soothing her parched throat. When Thrower took it with shaking hands, she helped him steady the bottle as he drank. “Are you all right?” she asked quietly. “I’ve had better days,” he rasped, and gave a small laugh. She noticed the glitter in his feverish eyes. “Don’t do anything rash. Not yet.” “So you’ll let me know when it’s okay to do something rash?” “Just rest your leg and your mouth, smart-ass.” “Yes Ma’am.” Lucia looked around the ledge they all sat upon. It appeared to be a natural hollow in the rock, but who knew really? Maybe whoever had put these ladders in had made the nook. A resting place. The Karatzin paced restlessly, his gaze flicking to Isles and away again, snaking over to Arcor, and flickering across to Thrower. Oh yeah, this big lizard is really on the edge. He started towards Lucia suddenly, his head moving from side to side, and Arcor stepped in front of him. “Come on, let’s get back on the ladder. There’s not far to go now.” He gave him a little push. “Only a few more levels to go, then we can do what we like. Remember?” Hemla hissed and looked as though he would strike out at the Juzzaar, but he walked stiff-legged over to the ladder and in a sudden burst, went up it. Arcor didn’t waste time, shoving Lucia towards the ladder with Thrower stumbling along behind her. “Get up there now!” She knew what his hurry was, and it wasn’t just the lava below or the planet crumbling. He wanted out of this narrow space before the Karatzin flipped out and released that gas. They were in even more danger now. Climbing the ladder, she focused on the sound of the rungs rather than the ache developing in her leg as they moved higher topside. Level Eleven, Level Ten, Level Nine. So close now… “Hey!” Hemla called down. “There’s someone else up here!”

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“Who?” Arcor called back. “Someone is high above us. I can faintly see them…and smell them. A woman.” Woman? Could it be Rhonda or Nya or even Xerna? Oh please, let it be Xerna! The part Karatzin woman would come in real handy right now, especially if Javel was nearby. Hemla started to pound up the ladder, making it creak and shudder. “Hemla! Stop!” Arcor ordered. “You’ll shake us off!” Ignoring him, Hemla continued hauling himself up the ladder as fast as he could, his snarling and hissing filling the enclosed space. “He’s flipped out!” Lucia snapped. “Ah, shit no!” Arcor snarled himself. The ladder shook beneath Hemla’s boots, and a shower of dirt came from the wall it was attached to. She caught her breath. The Karatzin would dislodge them all if he wasn’t careful. “Hemla!” she shouted “Stop!” “Piss off!” he snarled. “Useless human cow!” “You’ll kill us all!” “Only you, bitch, only you!” Stopping, he left one hand on the ladder, one foot on the rung, and swung around to hang partly in midair. “And maybe you, Thrower. And how about you, Arcor?” His eyes gleamed madly. “You want a piece of that woman up ahead, too? Huh? You want her and this one? Well, I’ve news for you, old buddy. I’m going to have the one up top, and this bitch, well, she’s a danger to me being untied. So I guess I’ll just get rid of you all!” Uh-oh. This was so bad. “Hemla, I promise you, I’ll do whatever you want-“ she began. “Don’t lie to me. You’re a guard, and you’ll kill me as soon as you get the chance.” “No. On my honor, I promise—“ “Bye-bye, bitch. So long, Arcor, it wasn’t nice knowing you, and Thrower? Well, go to hell, ol’ boy!” Closing his eyes, Hemla started to shake, his skin gleaming as the substance inside the pockets of his skin started to release. “Down!” Lucia yelled. “Move it! Get down!” But it wouldn’t be in time. She just knew it. Even as they scrambled down, a faint scent came to her, reminding her of almonds, and then she could see it exuding from Hemla’s skin, a yellowish mass of toxic gas that spread from him to drift down the tunnel. It engulfed her. Within seconds, she felt her nerves start to shudder, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from closing, casting her into a frightening darkness. “Lucia!” Thrower roared. “No! Hold on!” She couldn’t. All feeling left her fingers, her joints locked, and she slipped down. The rungs caught her shin, but there was no feeling. When her cheek slammed against the rail and split her cheek open, she felt nothing. Her heart stuttered, laboring, as poison seeped into her bloodstream. Every nerve strung tight, making her twitch. She fell back down the tunnel. ***** Thrower caught her, her weight nearly making him fall off the ladder as well, but he hung on with Isles pressed between him and the ladder. Rage poured through him, the rage

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he’d been managing to keep at bay. It had started as an irritant, but now…Lucia was in danger, was dying, and the bastard up there was laughing as he waited for them all to die. He felt a last surge of strength and knew it for what it was. The remaining Styx in his system fed his anger, his desperation, and yes…his love. His fear for Lucia. Hs fear of losing her when he’d only just found her. She needed water. They all would. Without it to saturate them and wash the poison from them, they’d die within minutes. How Lucia could even now be alive astounded him, but she was strong. The gas had enveloped him, too, but as of yet he felt nothing. It had to be the Styx that kept him going long past the time he should have collapsed. Water! They needed water…And his gaze fell on the wall beside him. Water was trickling fast from a crack, and suddenly he had an idea. The water trickling combined with the rumble that sounded in the distance just had to be… Without a second thought, he smashed his fist into the crack. The crack widened as earth fell from it, and more water tricked through. Again he hit the wall, and again. Meanwhile, Lucia was limp in his arms, her breathing becoming shallower. “What are you doing?” Arcor snarled. “There’s water behind this wall! If we can break it wide enough to let some out, it’ll saturate us before that gas gets any closer!” “Just hurry down!” “No! Lucia has the gas in her, she’ll die! Help me break the wall or, by God, I swear I’ll stay here and die with her, and you won’t get down the ladder fast enough to escape the gas!” Glancing up, he saw the yellowish cloud drifting dangerously close. “Now, Arcor!” With a vile curse, the big Juzzaar smashed his fist against the wall. Together, he and Thrower hammered at it. Desperation lent strength to Thrower’s rage, and he gave the wall another almighty hit, uncaring of the blood that coated his fist from the rough wall. The crack split straight up the wall and water burst through with indescribable force, gushing over them all, pulling them away from the adder and sending them falling down to the depths below. Grimly hanging onto Isles with one arm, Thrower kept trying to grab the rungs, desperate to break their fall. He managed several times, twisting his ankle in the process and straining his wrist, but he wasn’t aware of it as they descended. One part of him, the sane part, knew it was the Styx that prevented him feeling the pain. This had to be the only time since he’d been in withdrawal that Thrower felt like crowing with triumph. He grabbed another rung as they slipped further down, but he knew he couldn’t keep on the ladder with Isles hanging in his arm so limply. So he let himself go down, trying to maintain control rather than be swept away. Several times, he was swept off the ladder, and then his worst fear came to life. Hemla came crashing down from above them, slamming into Thrower before he tumbled past. He knocked Isles from Thrower’s arms, and she plummeted downwards. “No!” he screamed. “Lucia! Noooooo!” He tried to move quickly, too quickly, and lost his footing and hold. Scrambling to keep it, he was hit from above by another body, and he, too, went plummeting downwards.

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***** Underground Level Fourteen Mining Tunnel Coughing, Manya raised her head and peered blearily around. The ground was a soggy mess. A steady leak of water came from the tunnel above, and already the ground around the bottom of the ladder was several inches under water. Bottom of the ladder? No! She pushing herself painfully into a sitting position, she stared at the ladder. No! She was back where she’d started climbing! And not alone. For the first time, she noticed the bodies around her. A couple were stirring. Wideeyed, she looked at them. Two prison guards, one male and one female. The male sat up slowly, his eyes still not focusing properly. The female was unconscious. A Karatzin…she recognized him now. It was Hemla from the holding cells! Alarm streaked through her until she realized that his chest wasn’t moving. Getting weakly up onto her knees, she looked over at him. His sightless eyes stared back at her. His neck was at an awkward angle. The bastard had broken his neck. Well, that saved her one job. And the big Juzzaar lying against the wall, that was Arcor. He, unfortunately, wasn’t dead. His big chest rose and fell unevenly, his eyes remained shut. How had she ended up down here with them?” “Lucia?” The male guard had the upper torso of the female cradled in one arm, while pushing her straggling hair back from her face with a trembling hand. “Lucia, can you hear me?” The female guard was still unconscious, but she was breathing. The male guard looked sick and worried. As well he might, considering their plight. Mentally she checked her injuries, but apart from dozens of aches and pains in places she didn’t know she’d even had, and a lot of scrapes and small, bloody lacerations, she seemed to have survived the worst. Luckily, she’d been able to keep grabbing hold of the ladder rungs here and there to break what would have otherwise been a killing fall. Obviously, this lot had done the same. But it had shaken the lot of them up. She didn’t even know how long she’d been lying on the dirt before she’d regained consciousness. Minutes, hours…no, not hours. Minutes, probably. Getting to her feet, Manya edged over to the ladder. The male guard’s head snapped upright and he looked at her, his eyes hardening. “Who are you?” “I’m Manya.” He might have a weapon on him. “A scientist.” “Really? And what are you doing down here?” “I–I was caught in the quakes.” She swallowed but maintained a calm façade. “I was in one of the testing labs—“ “You know about medicine?” “Uh…a little.”

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“Come here.” It wasn’t a query but an order, and one she wasn’t inclined to disobey. Edging closer, her feet squishing in her wet shoes, Manya looked down at the woman in his arms. She was pale, blood trickling from a gash in her cheek. “The Karatzin poison got to her,” the guard said. “She’s still breathing, and she’s wet. I’d say that’s saved her life, otherwise she’d not be breathing now–what’s your name?” “Thrower.” He looked back down at the woman, his hand brushing tenderly along her jaw line. “And this is Lu-Isles.” Lucia. Her name was Lucia but obviously Thrower wasn’t happy to share that with her. Fine. Manya really didn’t give a damn anyway. All she wanted was to get out of here. “I know she’s been saturated with water–hell, we all have.” He laughed briefly. “I guess I just wanted some reassurance…” His words died away and he looked up at her. “You were on the ladder above us.” A statement, so she knew she better not lie. “Yes.” “You knew the way out of here?” “Up this ladder.” Nodding, she moved back to the ladder and placed her hand on it. “Where does it go to?” There was no real point lying about it now. “It leads to the Garrison.” “The Garrison?” Thrower’s gaze flicked to the ladder, hope on his face. “Really?” “You didn’t know?” Astonished, she looked at him. “But you were going up it.” “It led up, that’s all we know.” Thrower glanced across to the unconscious Juzzaar. “He sort of had us on a bit of a leash.” “I wondered what you were doing with these prisoners. I can’t imagine you all went voluntarily together.” “No.” A low groan diverted Thrower’s attention and they both looked down to see Isle’s eyelashes fluttering. “Lucia?” Gently, Thrower eased her up into a higher position, wincing as his free hand brushed the front of her uniform. Her eyes opened blearily and she looked directly up at him. “I have a headache.” He laughed shakily. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to say after we’ve been together for awhile?” “Huh?” “Not tonight, honey, I’ve a headache.” She blinked up at him. “You wish, Thrower.” “It’s top of my wish list. Not the headache bit, though.” Thrower hugged her. “I’m so glad you’re all right, Lucia.” Her own arms were around his neck as she hugged him back. How bloody touching. Not. Manya’s lips twisted derisively, and she quietly placed one foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. Thrower brushed a soft kiss on Isle’s forehead as she pulled back. Isles looked at him for several seconds, and then a small smile curved her lips. “I’m glad you’re all right, too.”

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“Which is more than I can say for Hemla.” Thrower nodded in the direction of the dead Karatzin. Stiffening, Isles looked from the Karatzin to the Juzzaar, and then her gaze fell on Manya. “This is Manya, a scientist who was caught down here with the quakes.” Thrower grinned. “She says this ladder leads up to the Garrison.” “Does she?” Taking a deep breath, Isles struggled to her feet. A flicker of discomfort crossed her pretty face, but otherwise she remained expressionless. “Is this true, Manya?” “Yes.” “How come none of us knew about it?” “It’s an emergency escape route.” “It seems there’s a few things going on that were done without knowledge of the prison guards.” Manya smiled faintly, trying to maintain a friendly façade. “This was the Duran Corporation’s decision, not mine.” Isles remained silent, her intent gaze studying Manya. Thrower struggled up, his face white with pain when he placed weight on his foot. Staggering, he reached for something to lean on, and Isles moved unsteadily to take his weight, her shoulder automatically wedging in his armpit. His arm came around her shoulders even as he protested. “Lucia, you can’t—“ “I can.” Isles jerked her chin at the ladder. “And we need to get out of here. The water is steadily pouring down and we need to move.” She started forward carefully. “Let’s go up.” Manya strongly doubted either of them would make it up a ladder, but at the challenging glint in Isles’s eyes, she refrained from saying anything. Grabbing hold of the ladder, she started to place her weight on the bottom rung, only to have the ladder shift and groan. And then they heard it. A rumble, deep and threatening. A shower of mud started to spill down lightly first, then heavier. “Get away from the ladder!” Isles yelled. Springing back in time to avoid the falling mud, Manya stumbled back and watched in horror as the mud spilled down, accompanied by small rocks. It came fast, hard, covering the bodies of the Karatzin and the Juzzaar. There was no way any of them could get to the prisoners without being caught in the mini-landslide themselves. Thrower and Isles moved back to a safe distance, watching warily as the mud continued to slop out of the tunnel. It built higher and higher and the mound disappeared up the tunnel until the rumble was a distant, muffled sound. “Well, damn,” Thrower mumbled in resignation. “The tunnel has been blocked with a mudslide.” “And Arcor had our weapons.” Isles sighed. “I should have thought to get them off him straight away.” No! Desperately Manya leaped forward and tried to claw the mud away. This was the way out, the way to safety! “Manya,” Isles said calmly. “You’re wasting your time.” “It’s the way out!”

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“It was. It’s not now.” “Damn it! Help me!” “Lady, if you think I’m going to waste my last breath trying to dig up a tunnel that goes all the way up to the garrison, you’ve another think coming. In case you haven’t realized, we lack mining machinery.” Ready to cry, Manya sat back on her heels, her white pants, already dirty and soggy, even more so as filthy mud coated it. Biting her lip, she stared at the mud. Silence filled the tunnel for several seconds, then Isles asked quietly, “Was this the way you got in, Manya?” “No.” Restraining the urge to cry, she swallowed and stood up, her shoulders bowed. “No.” “So how did you get down here?” “I came down this tunnel.” She pointed to the direction she’d spent a couple of hours traipsing down earlier. “I mean before that.” There was something in the tone that made Manya lift her head to look warily at the female guard. For one so small of stature, she looked so totally in control of herself that Manya felt an immediate resurgence of hope. Thrower nodded to her when she cast him a look. “I came…” What matter now if she told? The place was going to hell, falling apart, and everyone had left. She would need these two to get to safety, she knew it now, because of what awaited her at the other end. Straightening her shoulders, she said, “I came down a secret shaft. It’s at the end of this tunnel.” “A secret shaft?” Isles looked in the direction of the tunnel. “Did it cave in?” “No.” “So why didn’t you simply go back up the shaft?” “I was, but there were bearcats partway up, and I couldn’t get past them. This was the easiest and safest way to go.” “Bearcats?” Thrower frowned. “They must have come through the Environmental shaft, maybe,” Isles mused. “Okay, let’s get going.” “But the bearcats—“ “We’ll deal with the problem when we come to it.” At her dubious look, Thrower added, “It’s got to be better than staying here until we get caught in a cave-in or, perish the thought, drown. Besides, those bearcats may have gone elsewhere by now.” And these two guards might be a good diversion while she got away. “Okay.” Slowly and carefully, she started to move back down the tunnel towards where it bisected the tunnel. ***** Lucia wasn’t sure what to think of Manya, but before she started hitting the scientists with questions, she wanted to take stock of herself and Thrower. Thrower first. He leaned on her but trying not to, limping badly, so his thigh must really be paining now. His free hand he held close to his side. A bruise darkening on his

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square jaw, and dark shadows stood out starkly on the pallid skin beneath his blood-shot eyes. He looked like hell And she was so very, very relieved that he was alive. She smiled up slightly at him and he smiled back down reassuringly and, even more surprisingly, tenderly. Rather than alarm her, it warmed her, and she stroked her thumb softly against the skin of his hand where it rested over her shoulder. Now that she knew he was all right–or as all right as one could be who’d gone through a hellish withdrawal, and been half drowned–she concentrated on herself. She hurt in a thousand places. Her kidneys had obviously taken a blow, for they ached like hell. She’d be peeing blood for a week, probably. Ribs on the right ached, but there was no sharp pain to indicate any breaks. Her cheeks throbbed, and blood was still trickling slightly from the laceration. Throat was a bit raspy. The last thing she remembered was being engulfed in the poison from the Karatzin… “Thrower, what happened?” “What? Where?” “Hemla poisoned me, but I don’t remember anything afterwards. The water…what happened?” “I noticed water trickling down the tunnel, and knew there had to be water behind the wall. There was a crack in it and Arcor and I both pounded on it. It didn’t take long for the water to break through. More than we needed, actually.” He grinned ruefully. “But it did the trick.” “It also trapped us down here.” “We’d all have died otherwise.” He shrugged, winced and relaxed a little again. “Hemla was out to kill us all. Psychotic, you know.” “No, really?” Her wryness turned to gratitude as she titled her head back to look at him seriously. “You saved my life, Jonathon. Thank you.” “I couldn’t let you die, Lucia. You mean too much to me.” Surprised, she nearly came to a halt but he made her continue their steady walk. “I realized something back there when I thought I’d lost you.” “And what was that?” Her heart beat had picked up. “I realized that I’m falling for you, Ma’am.” His grin was fleeting, an indication that he was on unfamiliar territory but refusing to back down. “And I’d miss you threatening me.” For the first time that she could remember ever happening in her life, Lucia blushed. The pink crept up her throat and into her cheeks. “Cute.” Thrower leaned down slightly and brushed his lips across hers. “Very cute.” Warmth swept through her, and she stared up at him. Moistened her lips and tasted him faintly. He really loves me? “Are you two coming?” Manya’s voice broke impatiently through their contemplation of each other, slicing through the intimate moment like a hot knife through butter. Immediately cursing herself for being diverted from the dangers around them, Lucia faced the front again, adjusted her hold on Thrower and moved more strongly. “Your take-charge attitude turns me on,” Thrower remarked. “I forgot where we were,” she returned, then realized what she’d said and nearly closed her eyes in resignation.

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“My kiss made you forget everything? I am such a master at the art!” “Dream on.” “Oh, I will.” Glancing up at him, she saw the glint of mischief in his eyes, a little glint that came through the pain, and she smiled back up at him. “I’m not forgetting you owe me dinner, Thrower.” “I was Jonathon a minute ago.” “You’ll be Jonathon when you take me to dinner.” “With kissing after.” “Don’t take this further than you can manage.” “Oh, I can take it all the way.” His voice lowered. “And I will. I’ve done it before, but this time will be so much better…and hotter.” Not sure how to handle this new side to Thrower, one that made her heart skip a beat and a little tingle go through her sore body, along with a sweep of desire at the memory of what had already transpired between them, Lucia shook her head. She turned her attention to Manya, who was standing and looking back at them. The scientist was able to move faster, but she was also ensuring they weren’t far behind her. She really was scared of the bearcats, but then again, so was Isles. But that she could see, there was no choice. This was the likeliest way to get out of these damned tunnels. And now was as good a time as any to get some answers. “So, Manya,” Lucia said casually as the scientist fell into step beside them. “Tell me about these holding cells in the mining tunnel.” Manya stumbled in shock, but then righted herself and turned an inquiring face to Lucia. “Holding cells?” “You know the ones. Prednal, Arcor, Yeum and Hemla were kept inside them. Research Station One.” “I have no idea—“ Something doesn’t smell right here, lady, and the odor is coming from you. Deciding to play what she’d been told, Lucia raised one brow coolly. “Don’t deny it, Manya. Reefer was being mixed with the pure Styx to dilute the withdrawal effects, and this was being tested on the four prisoners in the holding cells.” “You seem to know a lot.” Manya’s jaw was tight. “We’re not completely dumb.” Manya’s gaze fell on Thrower, one of her brows raised slightly. Skeptically. Oh ho! Lucia’s gaze narrowed. Now she had a feeling she knew who had been supplying the Styx for the dealers to supply to Thrower. “Why don’t you simply tell me your side of the story?” she drawled. “My side? I have no side.” The bitch was still playing innocent. Time to draw out the big guns. “How about I tell you a little story? About a certain scientist who supplied the drug dealers from Level Seven with Styx, which they then planted on the cleanbots for a prison guard to find.” Beside her Thrower stiffened, but he didn’t stop walking or say anything. Manya paled. “I don’t—“

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“Because this scientist had found the perfect guard to get hung on Styx and would later use him to free her lover. What do you say to that, Manya?” “Who—“ “Don’t piss me off,” Lucia warned pleasantly, though what she really wanted to do was smash the cold-hearted cow’s face into the rock wall. “Or you’ll be on your own with the bearcats.” “But I—“ In one move, Lucia shot out her free hand, grabbed the scientist’s tunic in one hand, swung her around to face her and Thrower, and she lifted the scientist to her toes with just the one hand bunched in the uniform. “Wow.” Thrower was impressed. Manya went paler, her gaze shocked as she looked at the smaller woman. “Don’t mess with me.” Lucia gave the woman a shake. “Don’t piss me off. Don’t lie to me. Tell me everything, Manya. I want to see if it correlates with what I already know. If you don’t…well, I already know the way out, and I might just snap your little neck like a twig.” Manya’s eyes narrowed and she suddenly swung up one hand, claws popping through the skin. “Fuck!” Thrower yelled. “Monack!” And then pain shot through his leg as Lucia flung him aside. Even as he hit the wall he heard something snap sickeningly, a high scream and then another snap, and scream. Pushing himself up onto his elbow, he saw Lucia standing over the scientist. The scientist writhed on the floor, screaming. One hand hung at odd angles. “Shit, Isles!” he exclaimed. “You’ve broken her wrist?” “And the middle finger on her other hand. She was getting nasty.” Painfully crawling up onto his feet, he limped over to Lucia and watched Manya writhing on the ground. He expected her to change, but instead she continued to scream and cry. “Why isn’t she changing?” he wondered. “Half Monack,” Lucia guessed. “Only reason it could be. If she shifted into something else, she’d heal easily. But she can’t, so…” “So she’ll remain with a broken wrist and finger?” “Afraid so.” Lucia shifted a little uncomfortably, as though ashamed at what she’d done, then she shrugged philosophically. “Ah well, it was her or us. I’d rather it be her.” Thrower felt rather sorry for the scientist, but then again, he’d be even sorrier if she’d managed to get her claws into Lucia and killed her. “Stop screaming so much.” Lucia nudged Manya with one boot. “I happen to know the pain threshold of a half Monack isn’t as low as other species, so stop yelling and calm down. It’s more shock.” When Manya continued to scream, Lucia yelled, “Shut the hell up or I’ll break your knees, too!” That shut Manya up. Sniveling and sobbing, she rolled into a sitting position and shrieked, “You bitch! Look what you did!” “Get over it. You’ll be healed within a couple of days.” “How would you know?”

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“Because my father is a healer and he’s dealt with a lot of species, half Monacks among them. So get up and I’ll strap your wrist and finger, then we continue walking while you talk.” Thrower watched in silence as Lucia hauled the woman to her feet and then bound her wrist securely, and the broken middle finger of her other hand to her right finger for stability, using strips of material she tore from the woman’s pants legs. The woman had nice legs, but nowhere near as nice as Lucia’s. He must still be feverish if he was thinking these kinds of thoughts while stuck down a tunnel with a half Monack and the whole planet caving in above him. Once she’d finished strapping the woman’s wrists, he noticed how the scientist was scowling now and not sobbing. He wished he had such a high threshold of pain. Shifting in an attempt to ease the pain in his thigh and sore ankle, he winced. Slipping her arm back beneath Thrower’s armpit, Lucia supported his weight and started walking, ordering Manya to walk beside them. “Now I’ll tell you what, Manya,” Lucia said. “I make deals, lady. It’s what I do best. Now here’s the deal for you. Tell me everything, and I won’t break your knees. Lie to me–and I assure you I’ll know–and I’ll break your knees and then snap your neck, and leave you in this hell hole to die. By the time you’re healed enough to move, this planet will be history, and you with it. So? Going to tell me? “I…yes.” Lucia smiled with her mouth but not her eyes. “Walk and talk.” “I like it when you’re rough,” Thrower whispered in her ear. Ignoring him, Lucia concentrated on putting one sore foot in front of the other, while supporting Thrower and training her hearing on the tone of Manya’s voice. If the woman lied, then there’d be some indication of it in the tone and pitch of her voice. It was a gift she had inherited from her grandmother, who stated her husband had been a “know-it-all bastard”. It had come in handy in the past, but she had to concentrate. Before, with Thrower so sick and psychotic, and with the threat of everything else, she hadn’t been able to get close enough or able to concentrate solely on Yeum, but now she had the chance. “Thrower,” she murmured, “Keep your eyes and ears peeled while I chat with Manya.” “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied immediately. “Start,” Lucia told Manya harshly. The woman jumped. “F-from where?” “What’s your involvement in this?” ***** Thrower kept his eyes and ears peeled on their surroundings, but he also listened to the conversation with interest, not only because it was something odd, but because of this woman’s possible involvement in his drug addiction. Somehow he wasn’t surprised at Isles’s strength, he’d felt it himself several times since they’d been trapped in these hellish tunnels. Her calmness was something he admired. And her tenacity in finding out what was going on made her all the more intriguing. He just wished he’d seen this side of her topside. But then, he reminded himself, he’d been too caught up in his own pain and, his shame, his own addiction. Now he wanted to know exactly where he fitted into the whole puzzle.

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He hated the feeling that he’d been used. Scanning the surroundings, he listened as Manya began to speak. “You’re correct, Isles. Reefer is being mixed with Styx in an attempt to dilute the withdrawals. If it can be done, the Duran Corporation hope to make it legal in other areas where it’s currently illegal. But that’s only a small section of the Duran Corporation doing it, not all of them.” “Just the six scientists?” Manya looked surprised, but swallowed the question hovering in her eyes. “There are five scientists, and one overseer who reported back to someone. And before you ask, I don’t know who. We didn’t know anything, only what we were paid extra to do.” “Continue.” “We had to experiment on someone, and the easiest way was to take four of the prisoners as they entered the prison for their sentences—“ “Before they could be tagged and numbered.” “Yes. The four chosen were taken down to the holding cells in a disused mine. We tested the different mixes and doses on them and recorded the results. However, a lot of the time it was volatile. Dangerous. But we’d just stumbled upon a good mix, and were in the acts of trying it when the quakes hit.” “But you came from topside. Coming down to get your lover boy?” Manya’s lips tightened but she nodded. “Yes.” “And something else? Because I doubt a woman of your fine, upstanding prestige would come down here for a killer only.” Thrower wondered that the woman didn’t spit right into Isles’s face, she looked so mad. But instead, she simply sighed, her shoulders drooping, a habit he’d noticed on her when she felt defeated. “I was after all the information we’d collected that had been stored on a disc. The disc was in the holding cells room, where the data was being correlated. I was going to free Prednal, take the disc, and run back topside. Unfortunately, he was dead.” That was a good bit of news, in Thrower’s opinion. “So I ran.” “What about the disc?” “I had to leave it— Ow!“ She shrieked and tried to twist away unsuccessfully. “You damned near tore off my wrist!” Hoo boy, the woman sure could exaggerate! “I warned you not to lie and piss me off,” Isles said serenely. Manya sulked for several seconds, but obviously received another warning squeeze, because she jumped, whimpered and then took a deep breath. “Okay! Um…I got the disc.” “Where is it now?” A second of silence ticked past before she snarled, “In my tunic pocket.” “And what were you planning on doing with the disc, sweetie?” “Sell it back to the Duran Corporation. They’d pay handsomely to get it back.” “You think? They’d more than likely give you a little tap on the head and take it back.”

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“I wouldn’t tell them until I had copies secreted away with incriminating evidence if anything should happen to me. I’m no idiot.” “Matter of opinion. And Prednal? Where does the Monack fit in?” “Prednal and I were lovers before he was arrested and imprisoned. I knew he was here, so I wangled a job here and planned his prison break.” Thrower grinned. “No one gets out of Zurin Five Penitentiary.” There was a telling silence, and then she said, “You were part of our plan.” “Oh?” “Yes. You see, I needed a guard who could fiddle the alarms and cameras so that when Prednal got out, he would do so without any alarms. For that, I needed to get something on you, something I could blackmail you with.” A bitter taste filled Thrower’s mouth. “Styx.” She nodded but kept her gaze forward. “It was no big secret that you’d injured yourself in the wars. I’d seen you limping at times, saw the pain in your eyes and etched into your face. I saw you with those pills you keep in your pocket, and I knew the pills weren’t working. You were ideal. Intense pain can bring many a person to their knees. The plan was to get you hooked on these as painkillers and then gradually increase the dose a little at a time until you’d do almost anything for it.” “How’d you get it to the dealers on Level Seven?” Isles asked. “There’s a secret tunnel that bisects every Level of the prison. All I had to do was slip the Styx through a tiny panel just as Grinlin, the Level Seven dealer, was coming. He’d pick it up and plant it on the cleanbot for Thrower to find.” “So you must have let them loose.” “When I found out that everyone had left. Of course, I had to wait until I had the all clear, and then I allowed Grinlin and his two friends out. They were supposed to meet me on Level Two and we were going to go down to the holding cells together.” “They were your guards, in other words.” “Yes. In case we met anyone else stuck down here.” “Too bad,” Isles said easily. “They were mucking around on Level Six and I toasted them.” “It looked more like the control room collapsed onto them.” “That was after I toasted them.” “And I’m glad you did,” Thrower said softly. His leg hurt like hell and he leaned so heavily on Isles it was a wonder she wasn’t shaking. But no, his strong little woman walked along as though his weight wasn’t even on her. In spite of his fury towards Manya, the thought of what Lucia would do or say if she knew his thoughts made him smile to himself. “So the plan was basically to addict Thrower, use him to assist in the escape, and you and Prednal would retire a very wealthy couple.” “That was the plan,” Manya said bitterly. “Then the planet became unstable and everyone shot through. I had to stay behind to get the disc and Prednal.” “And just how were you going to get off the planet, Manya?” “I have a ship.”

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“Nice to know, but did you ever think someone might have taken it in this panic?” Isles raised her brows. “It’s security coded and was still there the last time I looked.” “Then let’s hope it’s still there. Anything else you haven’t told me?” “No.” “Good. Now how far down this tunnel do we have to go before we hit the shaft?” “About four hours.” Oh great. Thrower sighed inwardly. “So tell me, Manya,” Isles continued. “What were you going to do about Prednal’s buddies?” Thrower glanced over Isles’s head to see the scientists say calmly, “Kill them.” “Ah. Of course.” “Now can I ask a question?” Manya looked at Isles. “Sure. Let’s get friendly.” Hear the bite in that sentence. Thrower smiled as he limped along. “How come you’re so strong? You’re not tall, you’re not packed with muscle. What are you?” Thrower couldn’t wait to hear the reply. “I’m half Banoi.” “Half Banoi?” Thrower blurted, surprised he hadn’t thought of it himself. Isles raised one brow at him. “That explains how you’re able to cart me around so easily,” he added. “And how you were able to overpower me and snap my bones like twigs,” Manya grumbled. “It does have its good points,” Isles agreed. They continued on in silence, the only sound that of their boots on the dirt floor. Around them came the distant rumblings as several tunnels must have collapsed, and earth plates shifted. Bits of dirt showered down here and there. There was no way Thrower wanted to be trapped down here. Beforehand he’d always had other things to worry about besides the tunnels falling–his psychosis, being so sick, the prisoners–but now…now he had too much time to think. And he was thinking the tunnel was very long and, as the remaining globe winked out, very dark. “Crap,” Isles said from beside him. “Now what?” He fought the little flutter of panic that beat in his throat. “Where are you?” Manya asked, the panic open in her voice. “I’m the one you’re bumping against,” Isles replied calmly. “Everyone, stay close. Thrower, I’m going to angle you over to the side until you can touch the wall. Okay?” “Then what?” “You’ll be able to feel the wall as we walk, and we’ll know where we are. Understand?” She came up with some good ideas, he had to admit. “Understood.”

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Immediately he felt her press against him, steering him to the left. It was an eerie feeling to be walking in pitch-blackness, rather like entering a black hole in space, unsure of where you were going or ending up. His injured hand bumped against the wall and he gave a small gasp of pain. Her arm around his waist tightened. “What’s wrong?” “Found the wall,” he joked, biting back the swear word. “Good. Lay your hand against it and let us know if you lose contact with it.” Oh, that’s just going to hurt! Instead, Thrower stuck out his elbow and used it as a guide, allowing it to trail against the wall as they walked. It struck a few bumps here and there, the jolt of it making his wrist pain, but he bit back against the swear words when it did so. Isles had enough on her plate without him whining about little things. The time seemed to last forever. Surely it had to be more than four hours they’d walked? They had to be near the bisecting shaft. The blackness was becoming suffocating, pressing down on him. This is why I never became a miner. The only sound was their breathing, his, Manya’s and Isles’s, and none of them was entirely steady. “You okay, Thrower?” Isles’s disembodied voice sounded suddenly. “Fine. You?” “Still here.” She gave his waist a squeeze. “How’re you going, Manya?” “Right beside you.” “Kind of hard to miss, seeing as you’re pressed up against me.” “I’m not going to risk getting lost.” “Fair enough.” They continued onwards again, the silence broken by Isles as she checked everyone. He found himself listening for her voice. Even though the warmth of her body tucked in beside him was comforting, it was her calm tones he also wanted to hear. She was so matter-of-fact about things, so calm in the face of trouble. Did that make him a coward? No. But it’s why she’s second-in-command and you follow orders. And somehow, he didn’t even feel bad about that. One thing he’d learned early in life, was that everyone had their strong points and weak points. He was a great soldier, never panicked in battle, and was loyal and could be counted on. Isles was an efficient leader who thought things out carefully. Turning his head, he leaned down to where he guessed her head to be and pressed a kiss onto her damp hair. In turn, he felt her hand at his waist give him a gentle rub. “Lucia,” he whispered. “Yes?” In case we don’t get out of here… “I love you.” She was silent. “Boyfriend?” Manya asked, her voice loud in the hush. “No,” Isles said. “Yes,” Thrower said. “Yes or no?” Manya asked, sounding mildly amused. “I have no idea,” Isles replied. “I’m wooing her once we’re away from this hellhole,” he answered.

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“You know, this attraction could simply be due to dire circumstances,” Manya suggested. “No, it’s not,” he replied with assurance. “How can you tell?” “Because I was attracted to her from the very beginning.” “You were?” Isles was surprised, and a tad suspicious. “Yeah. But my pain, and the…addiction…didn’t allow me to see it clearly.” “And you think you see clearly now?” Disbelief was in Manya’s voice. “I know it, because the Styx has just about gone form my system, of that I’m sure. My leg pains like hell, my ankle is killing me, my wrist is screaming for mercy, and all I want to do is kiss you, Lucia. I smell your scent—“ “That’s sweat,” Isles said gruffly. “I like it. I think about you, I can picture you in my mind, and I want to find a place where I can lay you down and—“ Isles cleared her throat loudly, and Thrower remembered they had company. There was silence for a few seconds. “All right,” Manya said. “I think you may be right after all.” “Thanks,” he replied. Isles didn’t say anything, but he felt her head rub against his chest suddenly, and he smiled. They were all getting tired. Several times they stopped so that he could rest his leg. Each time Isles carefully leaned him back against the wall, and she and Manya both leaned against it each side of him, ensuring they all touched. None of them wanted to risk being separated. Finally, just when he wondered if he could possibly go any further, he noticed dimness up ahead. Not blackness, but a faint dimness. “Isles?” he said hopefully. “I see it. Manya?” “I think it’s the light from the shaft. It has to be!” Manya gave a small sigh of relief. “Thank God!” The promise of an end to the dark tunnel and a way to freedom inspired them all, and without thought they increased their speed as much as they could, a sense of renewed vigor coursing through them. Thrower tried to ignore the pain shooting in his thigh and ankle. Isles suddenly slowed down. “Shit. Sorry, Thrower.” “No, don’t slow down on my account.” “Yes, for you, and also because we’ve all forgotten one thing for a minute. A very important thing.” “What?’ Manya queried. “The bearcats might be near. We need to conserve energy, not blow it uselessly in a headlong dash for the shaft, only to be slashed to pieces by them if they’re still there. We need to move with caution now.” “They might even be close by in the tunnel.” Thrower found himself trying to focus in the dark, but it was useless.

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“Exactly. Everyone stay close, and move steadily but carefully. Try and stay alert. I know we’re all tired, but we can’t afford to get careless now.” A sliver of fear and adrenaline coursed through Thrower, he felt the same tension in Isles’s body. More alert now, trying to focus on the surroundings and less on his pain, he kept his gaze on the dimness ahead that was slowly but steadily growing nearer. Now he called on his military training, using his eyes to detect any unusual movements that might cross the dim light, indicating a presence of unknown species. Any sound that was alien to what he was already hearing—the distant rumble of earth, the trickle of water, the steps of his two companions and their breathing. He listened for any growl or hiss, any noise that had no place in this dark tunnel. So far, nothing, but he remained alert, watchful, managing to put himself a little above his own pain and injuries.

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Chapter Nine Underground Level Fourteen Secret Shaft Manya was eager to get out of the tunnel, but Isles and Thrower’s wary silence held her back, making her cautious, but at the same time, she felt more confident knowing they were with her. Especially as she needed someone to drive the skimmer, thanks to that callous bitch breaking her wrist and her finger, effectively immobilizing her for any harder or fast work. She still couldn’t believe the strength in the smaller woman’s hands. But now that strength would come in handy, especially if the bearcats were still around. Dropping behind the couple, she peered over Isles’s shoulders as the guard leaned Thrower against the wall, and against his whispered protests, went cautiously to the entrance where the tunnel bisected the shaft, ensuring she kept to the side of the tunnel and crouched down low. After kneeling silently for at least a minute, her head slowly moving from side to side, Isles stood up guardedly, the weight on the balls of her feet, her arms partway up in front of her as though in anticipation of a frontal assault. When nothing happened, she stepped slowly out into the shaft. Thrower moved after her, using the wall to support himself. He couldn’t crouch down, but his movements were just as guarded, and Manya thought it wisest to follow behind him. Besides, if the bearcats were busy chewing up his tough hide, she stood a good chance of getting away. Away where? A little voice queried, but she ignored it. She followed him as he neared the entrance, glancing nervously from side to side as she did so. Isles turned and looked at them, then gestured. “It doesn’t look like those things are here at the moment,” she said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not lurking here somewhere or close by.” “Good.” Thrower looked towards the skimmer. “Even better.” More than eager to be away, Manya hurried towards the skimmer, followed more cautiously but just as quickly by the two guards. Without saying a word she climbed up into the back seat with a little help from Isles, and glanced around nervously again. Thrower and Isles looked at each other. “I’ll drive, shall I?” Isles suggested, even as she opened the passenger door and helped Thrower into the seat. He sat down with a relieved groan. “You just like being in charge.” “You got that right.” She moved around and got in behind the controls. “That makes me so hot.” “Thrower, I’m beginning to think just about anything makes you hot.” “Correction. Anything you do makes me hot.” “Sweet.” “I can’t wait to fan the flames.” “Don’t touch what you can’t handle, Jonathon.”

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“I can handle you, baby.” “We’ll see.” “Oh, a challenge! I’m up to it.” “I bet.” Having no idea how the two of them could exchange banter when things were so serious, she leaned forward. “Can we get out of here?” “Settle down,” Isles said mildly. “We’re going. Everyone strap in.” The skimmer roared to life, making Thrower swear and Isles’s lips tighten, but it settled into its almost silent hum as the power took in the engine. It lifted from the ground to hover above the dirt floor. “Well, I reckon that might have alerted anything hanging around,” Thrower said tightly. “Let’s just move it, okay?” Manya snapped, having finished securing her strap with some difficulty and pain. Putting it on manual control, Isles looked back at Manya. “I take it we turn around and go up the shaft?” It was more a statement than a question, but obviously the guard wasn’t taking any chances, and when Manya nodded, Isles turned the skimmer with quiet efficiency and started it up the incline. After several minutes, Manya realized that the skimmer wasn’t going at almost top speed, as she would have preferred. Glancing over to the controls, she saw no damage done to them. “Something wrong?” She glanced up to see Thrower looking narrowly at her. “Just wondering why we’re not going faster.” “In case there’s anything ahead of us.” “Bearcats?” “As well. There might be collapsed tunnels from above, anything.” Even as he spoke, part of the roof directly above them came loose, the dirt raining down upon the occupants. Isles poured on the power and the skimmer shot forward with a lurch, the back of it dropping and swinging slightly before settling. Manya screamed. “Quiet!” Thrower snapped, blinking the dirt from his eyes. “The bearcats might hear us!” Trembling, knowing the ordeal wasn’t yet over and they still might die, Manya shrank back in the seat and attempted to dust herself off, until she was reminded of her broken wrist by a sharp ache. Huddled down, she briefly closed her eyes, but that scared her more than having them open. She had this fear that she might open her eyes to see her own death staring her in the face. Get a grip, Manya! Sheesh! The skimmer entered Level Thirteen and up to twelve with no problems. At Level Eleven there was a distinct chill in the air, and she felt the cold draughts coming through the cracks in the wall. At Level Ten a sudden burst of static caused both Isles and Thrower to clap their hands to their throats.

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A feminine voice sounded urgently. “This is Garrison guard Nya. For those of you guards out there listening, we have good news. We found a ship...” crackling interfered with the communications, making it fragmented. “...not a shuttle, not a Duran vessel... A mercenary ship. It’s been parked illegally on a hidden landing platform for quite some time. The coordinates are forty by sixteen in the Beta sector... Get there as fast as you can. There is enough room for the whole Garrison and more. But watch your backs. If the mercenaries are still in the vicinity, they won’t like us borrowing their vessel.” The message cut off in static before falling silent. “Did you hear that?” Thrower asked Isles. “A mercenary ship? What the hell is a mercenary ship doing here?” Slowly Thrower turned his head to look at Manya. She raised her hands in protest. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I have no idea!” “Is that right? How do we know it’s not some kind of covert Duran Corporation operation? Maybe buyers for the mix of reefer and Styx?” “I was paid to correlate the data, that’s all.” Manya scowled. “I don’t do everything here that’s illegal, you know!” “Hmmm.” He looked her up and down, his dark eyes holding a hard expression. “This is another chance to get off this bloody planet.” Expertly, Isles flew the skimmer around a bend. “Mercenaries, Isles?” Thrower queried. “Don’t ask me, Thrower. There’s more going on in secret in this place than you can poke a stick at.” The skimmer glided up to Level Nine, and Isles jerked it to a halt. Startled, they all stared at the huge hole in the wall of the shaft. Shadows reflected off the wall. Bearcats. Bearcats in the tunnel on the other side of the wall. “Hells bells with frosting,” Isles muttered. “Can we make a run for it?” Manya hissed, pressing against the back of Thrower’s seat. “If you really stoked the engine with fuel beforehand, we might make it,” he suggested. The shadow on the wall disappeared, and the back of a bearcat came into view. “Crap.” Isles swore. It was the first time Manya had heard anything but calmness in Isles’s voice, and it made her even more scared, for it meant that Isles, the controlled and always calm guard, was rattled. Sweat trickled down Manya’s temple in spite of the chill. “Hang on,” Isles stated quietly. “I’m flooring it.” Taking a deep breath, she held the brake down at the same time giving the skimmer all the throttle she could. “Er–Lucia—” Thrower began nervously. “Shut it.” The skimmer shuddered with the power that surged through the engine but was held back by Lucia’s foot on the brake. The roar of a bearcat sounded and a nose started to come out of the hole. Isles let the break up and with a silent rush, the skimmer flew at electrifying speed up the incline. Manya could see her hanging onto the steering wheel with grim concentration, while Thrower hung onto the door, gritting his teeth.

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The speed was dangerous, but what was coming out of the hole in the wall was just as dangerous. The bearcat roared as it saw the skimmer coming towards it. Rearing back into the hole, it lunged forward with full power. The second bearcat spun around and roared its anger. Trying to avoid the shaggy monsters now partway across the shaft, Isles angled the skimmer, taking it right to the other side of the shaft partway up the wall so that she was basically flying it along the shaft wall. If they hadn’t been strapped in, Manya knew they’d have fallen out. As it was, she had a hard time hanging on. Gorge rose in her throat, as what passed for the ‘road’ of the shaft tore dangerously along not far from her shoulder. She screamed, unable to stop herself. The bearcats threw themselves forward, their claws raking the air. One heavy paw smashed into the side of the skimmer, narrowly missing Thrower, who swore and jerked to the side, holding onto Isles’s seat to keep him from falling back near the shaft floor. The skimmer spun, knocked off course as a heavy body thudded against the back. Where they had been flying sideways, now the skimmer flipped over and they were upside down. By some miracle, Isles managed to keep the skimmer flying. “Hang on! For God’s sake, hang on!” The ground rushed beneath Manya, and she titled her head back to see it crazily moving. Christ, they were flying upside down in a vehicle not made for it! The faint smell of burning came to her as the engine labored, power surging through leads into areas where it wasn’t meant to go. She caught a glimpse of something at the back of the skimmer but she couldn’t keep her gaze on it as nausea burned up her throat and into her nose, making her squeeze her eyes tightly shut. “Isles!” Thrower yelled. “The engine!” “Got it!” In one sudden flip, the skimmer was flying sideways, then in one neat maneuver it was right side up again. It swung crazily across the shaft, narrowly missing hitting the wall. “Are they far behind us?” Isles clung with grim determination to the steering wheel. “Thrower, can you see the bearcats?” He looked behind him, and Manya caught sight of his face and the triumphant exhilaration reflected there. Obviously he wasn’t feeling as ill as she herself. “No! Nothing!” Without a word, Isles put her foot on the brake and quickly slowed the skimmer down, bringing it under control until it was skimming slowly along above the ground again. Silence hung heavy in the air, and they continued up the incline. ***** Underground Level Eight Secret Shaft Isles felt sick. Her hands shook and she suddenly felt like crying. “That was close.” Thrower’s voice shook. “Too close.” Her own voice trembled and she swallowed.

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“You got us out of there.” His hand pressed lightly on her shoulder, elation in his words. “Isles, you did it!” “Yeah, I did.” In the back seat she could hear Manya whimpering still. “Where did you learn to handle a skimmer like that?” Thrower was awed. “I have brothers who like to play dumb games.” She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “That was one of the most awesome things I have ever seen! Isles, you’re a miracle worker!” “I’m lucky we didn’t all get killed.” Isles smiled tightly. “It was that or stay in the shaft and wait until the bearcats moved. If they had of come down towards us, we would have had to keep retreating and ended up in a cave-in or eaten by them. Or the lava worms. Or—“ “Hey, you don’t have to give me reasons, Isles. We knew the risks, right Manya?” Manya just whimpered some more. “Yeah.” Isles eased her grip on the wheel. “Hey. Lucia. You all right?” She glanced sideways to see Thrower leaning forward in his seat, his face concerned. His cheeks, normally pale since his withdrawal, had a touch of pink in them, and his eyes were bright. Well, bright but concerned. “Lucia? Sweetheart?” “I’m sweetheart now we’re past that danger?” “No jokes, Lucia. What’s wrong?” She sighed. “I hate speed.” “What?” “I hate speeding and doing stupid stunts. I did it when younger, until one of my brothers did some incredibly stupid stunt and nearly died because of it. I’ve hated speed ever since.” The lump in her throat was slowly going away. “Speed makes me nervous.” She half expected him to laugh or crow with delight at finding her weak spot. Instead, he unstrapped his belt. “Put the strap back on, Thrower. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “I’d cuddle you if I could, but as that’s out of the question. I’m going to do this instead.” He leaned across and pressed his lips to her cheek. “Lucia, you saved out lives. I love you.” The kiss was brief, and when he pulled away she glanced at him to see the warmth in his eyes. “Put your strap back on,” she ordered gruffly. “There’ll be time enough for getting gooey later.” His dark eyes were tender, but his smile widened as he obeyed. “So we’re getting gooey later?” Thrower sought to ease her nerves, and she gladly took what he offered, falling easily and comfortably into their shared banter. “I never said that.” “You said there’ll be time for it later.” “I never said exactly when.” “After our dinner and kisses.” “You expect a lot, Thrower.”

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“Call me Jonathon. Or hot stuff.” A burst of laughter escaped from her, and she felt a measure of tension disappear from her. Tightly-strung nerves eased. “Don’t laugh,” he said. “I’m hot in bed.” “Why should I care?” “Because I’m gonna burn you, baby.” She grinned, but a familiar tingle started inside her. “Burn you good,” he added throatily. “You have a lot of bragging to live up to, Jonathon.” “Oh, my word’s good.” His grin was a flash of teeth. “I’ll burn and bite.” “This sounds like it might be painful.” “A fine line between both, sweetheart.” “Still sounds painful.” “I lick any wounds…in fact, I lick anything.” Startled at the sudden heat in his words, she glanced at him. His dark eyes held a lustful light. “Hells bells, Thrower. How the heck can you get horny right now?” “Can’t help it. Thinking of licking you has made me hot.” Shaking her head, Lucia looked back at the incline. Okay, she was over her nerves. Now she had to get over Thrower’s words. She began to realize that the man was a walking lust machine when he wasn’t hung up on Styx and its effects on him. He was even witty, and surprisingly good-natured. She could easily love him. Whoa. Hold on there girl! Where had that come from? As the skimmer flew up onto Level Seven, she bit her lip. She had to concentrate on this flight, not the man beside her. But now she was so very aware of him, his quiet strength and the muscled body. His sensitivity to her moods. He was everything she’d never suspected. “So,” Thrower drawled. “Do you like satin sheets?” She started laughing. The man was incorrigible. “Maybe I’ll let you find out for yourself.” “That’s another challenge I take up with relish.” His finger brushed against her cheek, and it felt nice. Manya suddenly leaned forward. “The next Level, Isles, leads right into the transport room.” Thrower withdrew his hand and looked up at the incline. Nodding, Lucia drew her concentration back onto the issue at hand. “Level Six?” “Yes.” “Is it a clear entry?” “Just follow the shaft and you’ll go straight into the transport room.” All conversation ceased as the last level was flown up. True to Manya’s words, the shaft came straight to an opening, and Lucia flew the skimmer through the opening and directly into a huge transport room. Stopping next to a mintun rider, she lowered the skimmer to the floor and cut the power to the engine. “Thank God,” Manya breathed. “I can’t believe we actually made it.” Thrower pushed open his door and winced. “I can’t believe I’m actually glad to see this joint.”

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“I thought you had no doubt I’d get us here.” Feeling more lighthearted, Lucia laughed and shoved her door open. Getting out, she started around the back of the skimmer to help Thrower. “So much for pretty words—“ The big Juzzaar reared up in front of her. Covered in blood and bits of mud, his eyes gleamed crazily at her. Opening his mouth, he let out one savage roar before swinging a punch. Caught by surprise and the swiftness of his actions, Lucia only just managed to dodge part of his fist, but the resulting blow still made her stagger back. “Lucia!” Thrower struggled to get out of the skimmer, while Manya shrieked and leaped out. “Run!” Lucia shouted. Arcor lunged at her, and in the confined space of the transport room, she knew she was a sitting target. All she could do was fight back, swinging her foot up to slam into his stomach. He grunted and staggered back, giving her enough room to dodge to the side. He grabbed her hair, a good fistful, and yanked her back. Grabbing her waist, he lifted her up until she dangled her high above his head. “Oh shit,” was all she managed, before she found herself flung across the top of the skimmer and a mintun rider. Slamming into a mine carrier, she felt pain streak down her arm. “Isles!” Thrower yelled. “Bloody hell! Hey, Arcor! You big, bloody, ugly Juzzaar! Come over here and beat on a real man!” “Thrower, this is no time to be a hero!” Wincing from the pain, Lucia used the steps of the mine carrier to pull herself upright. She groaned when she saw the Juzzaar lumber towards Thrower, who was trying to hop back out of the way. Ignoring the pain in her arm, and the other aches that had now been reborn from the throw, she clambered over the mintun rider and grabbed a metal bar sticking out from between the seats. Holding it high, she started towards the prisoner, who was almost onto Thrower. “Hey! I’m more of a threat to you, Arcor!” Swinging around at her words, Arcor spotted the bar she held and laughed hoarsely. “I clung to the back of your skimmer while you drove like a crazy bitch through those bearcats! You think that piece of metal is going to stop me?” “Guess we’re going to find out.” She jumped down to face him. They skirted each other, wary and sizing each other up. The Juzzaar was big, but as her brothers had always proved to her, bigger didn’t necessarily mean better. Arcor sprang for her, and she swung up the bar in both hands, hearing the satisfying thunk of his arm hitting it. At the same time, she swung her foot up and caught him in the knee. By all accounts he should have gone down, but the crazed look in his eyes didn’t bode well. Catching her leg, Arcor used it to drive her back against the side of the skimmer. Her backside smacked against the skimmer, and it took all her strength to stop her knee from bending as the Juzzaar leaned against it, trying to force her knee to bend so he could fall onto her. “I’m gonna crush you!” he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth.

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Grabbing the end of the bar in both hands, she brought it down towards his head, but he dodged and it glanced off his shoulder. Drawing it back again, she jabbed for his eyes, and in a quick movement he released her leg and snatched the bar. Now they were in a tug-of-war, both hanging grimly onto each end of the bar and pulling. Bracing both legs slightly apart, Lucia suddenly pushed, but Arcor was wise to her movements, and he dodged to the side and released the bar. Caught off balance, she stumbled forward into his embrace. Grabbing her wrist, he twisted and she dropped the bar, swearing as she felt it slide from her numb fingers. Shoving her around, he twisted her arm painfully up behind her back and drove her forward over the side of the skimmer, pinning her in place with his hips against her behind. “Got you,” he sneered. “Thought you were so smart leaving me to die in the tunnels!” Bracing her free hand on the edge of the skimmer, Lucia pushed back, but he jerked her other arm up higher, making her gasp in pain. “What do you want with me?” she gritted out from between clenched teeth, trying to stall for time, knowing instinctively that Thrower had to be planning something, for he was very quiet. Tangling his other hand into her hair, he jerked her up until she was pressed back against his chest. Resting his cheek against her own, he laughed harshly. “You thought I was dead, but I wasn’t. I dug myself out and followed your voice down the tunnel. Your voice checking to make sure the others were okay was my beacon out of that hell hole.” So much for making sure they were all okay. “But how did you get here?” And where the hell is Thrower? “I was running behind the skimmer, within seconds of you moving. When that shower of dirt came down and the skimmer lurched when you finally gave it some power, I grabbed the back of it and hung on.” “There’s no way you could hang on for that whole distance without getting chewed up more than you did.” She winced as he twisted her hair more tightly around his fist. “Smart little bitch, aren’t you? Too smart for your own good. There’s a cradle underneath to carry anything needed for the miners. Repair equipment, who knows? I was able to half lie in that. This being torn up was from your crazy–albeit outstanding–maneuvers against the bearcats. Then I got banged up a little, and dragged around a lot.” He angled her back so much that her neck muscles screamed in protest. “I’m going to kill you.” She couldn’t even squeak out Thrower’s name. A big hand grabbed her jaw, the other cupping the top of her head, and she knew that the big Juzzaar intended to break her neck. And he was strong enough to do it, too. The pressure increased and she kicked back, fighting the pressure that was slowly forcing her head to turn. Oh God! Oh God! Don’t let it end like this! No! A sickening thunk sounded, and the hands loosened. The big body half turned and another thunk sounded. The Juzzaar dropped to the floor. Lucia slumped over the skimmer, her hand still braced on the edge, her other holding her throat as she gasped. “Isles!” Thrower’s arms were around her, and she felt herself being turned and folded into his embrace. “Isles, it’s all right. He’s dead.”

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For one brief moment, she allowed herself to relax. Burrowing her head under Thrower’s chin, she snuggled close and shivered. He was so warm, so alive, albeit battered. So caring and loving as he rocked her gently, gingerly, trying to comfort her even in the midst of his own pain. Whispering words of reassurance and love, dropping kisses on the top of her head. It was utter bliss, that brief moment in time when it was just Thrower and her. “Jonathon?” she sniffed. “Yeah, sweetheart?” He asked huskily. “Thank you.” “My pleasure.” He hugged her tighter, but she felt him stiffen slightly with the pain he was in. Pulling back, she looked up at him and blinked back a tear. “Let me go. You’re in too much pain to be trying to cuddle me.” He looked down at her, his eyes soft, and then he slowly lowered his head. For the life of her, she couldn’t stop from lifting to meet him. Their lips touched, warm and light, carefully, aware of each other’s hurts but needing the closeness. Slowly the kiss deepened, and when his tongue flicked over the seam of her lips, she opened willingly, allowing him in. His taste flooded her as he entered his tongue licking hotly as he became more aggressive, more dominant, taking everything she had in a searing kiss. Taking everything and filling her with deep longings and his taste, so masculine and hot. His hand reached down and cupped her breast, inching higher until his thumb rubbed over her nipple. Desire, hot and tight, shot through her and she shifted closer. He gasped with pain, flinching, at the same second she did. “Ow!” they both exclaimed at exactly the same time. Pulling apart, they both grabbed for sore spots–he gingerly laying his hand on his thigh, she her stomach. “Old injury!” he gasped. “Bruised gut,” she moaned. They looked at each other and smiled ruefully. “I suggest we take this up at a later date,” Lucia said. “Yeah. At the dinner?” “You think the other diners will understand when we start tearing each others clothes off?” “Probably not. After dinner?” “You’re on.” “Right. On top.” Shaking her head made her neck twinge, and she fingered it gingerly. Neck muscles weren’t meant to fight against brutal hands trying to break necks. She’d be tender there for awhile. “Bastard.” Thrower said flatly. “I hope he rots in hell.” Lucia looked to the side to see the big Juzzaar lying on his back. His eyes were open, the blood pooling from beneath his head. His chest was still.

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“He should’ve kept the bar,” Thrower stated with satisfaction. “I used it to bash his brains out.” “Nice touch.” “Thanks. Only for you, sweetheart.” “I think I’m falling for you, Thrower, you sweet talker, you.” “After I’ve bedded you, sugar, I know you’ll fall for me.” He grinned crookedly. Lucia doubted the bedding alone was going to do it, because what she felt for him had surpassed friendship. “I don’t think you’ll have to try too hard.” His eyes gleamed, and he opened his mouth to retort, but changed his mind. Dipping his head he kissed her on the tip of her nose. “Let’s get to the mercenary ship. I want you in safety.” Slipping her arm around his waist, she placed her shoulder into his armpit and steadied him as they both moved slowly and carefully around the dead prisoner. Skirting the skimmer, they started limping painfully towards the opening where Manya waited and watched through narrowed eyes. “About time,” she said darkly “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly see you running to save the one fighting for your life,” Thrower said bluntly. “I’m a scientist, not a fighter.” “Oh, that’s a good answer for everything, isn’t it? Let someone else get hurt for you.” She didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed or embarrassed, but it didn’t worry Lucia. She’d met enough of Manya’s kind and never considered them worth a second thought, and this just proved her right yet again. “So.” She nodded towards the opening. “This leads to the Garrison?” “Yes. We can get to the bisecting tunnel that leads up to Level Two, and get out using the exit stairs there.” “Why not down here?” “The place is a mess. The Control room is almost destroyed, and the rest of this Level has been damaged almost beyond repair. Level Two is the easiest and safest way to go.” “More stairs? Oh joy,” Thrower muttered. “Stairs are safer, Thrower.” Lucia nodded at Manya. “Let’s go.” Silently Manya led them down the tunnel, and it seemed to Lucia that it was almost as long and endless as the others. But that was only because she was sick and tired of tunnels, had had enough of them the last few...what? Days? How many days had they been down in the bowels of the prison and mines? With no way to tell time, she’d lost track of days and hours. Coming to a stop, Manya nodded towards a closed door. “That door leads into a cupboard in the small change room next to the Engine room. That’s how this tunnel bisects Level Six.” “Fantastic.” Lucia frowned. “Duran Corporation has a lot to answer for when we finish up here.” “We have to finish up first,” Thrower grunted. “When we do finish up,” she muttered, “I’m going to make sure the authorities know what everyone in the Duran Corporation has been up to.”

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Manya gave her a long look, then shrugged and pointed to the stairs. “Up here.” The stairs angled upwards, and with a sigh of resignation, Thrower grabbed the rail with his good hand. “Want me to carry you?” Lucia offered. “Good grief. No!” “I could manage to get you partway—“ “Lucia, sweetheart, you’re injured yourself. No, we’ll do this the way we’ve done it all so far–together.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. She smiled. Thrower liked to kiss and touch. How interesting. Manya gave them a moody look, and then started up the stairs. Lucia and Thrower looked at each other and then started up the stairs behind her. ***** Underground Level Two, Offices Civilian Area, Unmonitored The stairs were a nightmare for the injured guards. Thrower panted, sweat streaking his face. His knuckles on the hand clutching the railing were white. Dark eyes glazed with pain, he was almost dragging himself up the stairs. Isles was doing a bit better. Then again, she didn’t have a twisted ankle or sore thigh, but her other injuries weren’t doing her any favors, either, Manya saw. The guard’s hair was damp with sweat, her lips pressed tightly together. She favored her left side, the side Thrower wasn’t on. The next plan she’d just formed in her mind should be a piece of cake. “You could help,” Isles gritted out. “Take his other side—“ “No.” Thrower looked up. “As long as I have this rail, I’m better off. I don’t have to worry about tipping us all off balance and sending us all tumbling down the stairs.” “Thrower—“ “I swear to God, Isles, if I fall down these stairs, I won’t be able to get back up them again! You’ll have to leave me down there. I don’t think I can do this again.” “Okay, Jonathon,” she said soothingly. “You’re doing well. We’re getting there.’ “Are we? We seem to have climbed for miles. How far up are we?” “We passed the Level Four sign not long ago,” Manya was pleased to inform him. Watching the two guards suffer was a balm to her. She’d been doing some serious thinking while climbing the stairs. These two were becoming a problem now. If they survived to rat her out to the authorities, everything she’d gone through for her future would be destroyed. There was no doubt that the authorities would come after every employee of the Duran Corporation, especially the scientist, once they got a whiff of what had been really going on down here. Reefer, Styx. Experiments. And all because these two idiots were intending to inform on the Duran Corporation. Well she couldn’t allow that, not at all. However, getting rid of them here wasn’t an option. She’d learned not to underestimate the woman, and if she attacked her and Thrower now, Manya could very well find herself at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck and legs. No, better to wait for a

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more opportune moment. She was fortunate in that she knew more about the civilian areas than did these two imbeciles. By the time they got to Level Two, Thrower looked grey. It was only Isle’s strength that seemed to be holding him up, and the strain was telling on her as well. Walking through the door into the small alcove on Level Two, Manya moved through it and into the office. There were still a couple of things she could use for bargaining and gaining a bit more wealth, and those discs were in here where she’d hidden them. But first, she was parched for water, and she crossed to the cooler and poured herself a drink of cool water. Isles and Thrower came in behind her more slowly. Isles sat him down in the nearest chair, and he slumped back with a sigh of relief. Limping over to the water cooler, she poured two glasses of water and limped back to Thrower with them. Placing her glass on the desk, she helped steady his hands as he shook with fatigue. Carefully she tipped the glass to his lips and watched as he gulped the water. “Take it easy,” she warned. “Or you’ll be sick.” He obeyed, as he always obeyed. Manya’s lips twisted in disgust and she turned away to sit at the console. Tapping in a few codes while being careful to avoid hitting her broken finger against the keys, she waited as the disc inside started to collect the last of the data. “What are you doing?” Sipping slowly from the glass of water, Isles limped over to watch. “Just downloading some data.” “Now? Come on, we need to get out of here.” “This data, guard, will show what the Duran Corporation have done.” “Don’t tell me you’re wanting to turn them in to the authorities?” Isles looked down at her. Manya could feel her disbelief and frowned. “We need to get out of here and to either your ship or the mercenary ship,” Isles continued. “This’ll only take a few minutes. Besides, Thrower won’t make it anywhere if he doesn’t rest for at least a short time.” Manya glanced over her shoulder. “I can take him.” “Isles, you’re strong, but you’re running out of steam. Even I can see that.” Isles looked calmly down at her, the weariness and pain etched into her face. “Let me worry about that.” “All right!” Testily, Manya stood up. “I’ll just get some stuff from my locker.” “Bugger your locker. We’re leaving. Now.” “The locker is right there.” Manya pointed across the room and moved away quickly, knowing Isles couldn’t match her for speed. Frowning, Isles watched her. Manya reached the other side and used her personal handprint code to open the locker. Only it wasn’t her locker, but the one used to store chemicals. Inside were the items she sought, and withdrawing them, she glanced into the mirror to see exactly where the two guards were, and smiled.

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Thrower had discovered the little packet of Styx that Marson, one of the scientists, had put in his drawer for testing. Now all the guard had to do was take some crystal, fix his leg, and make it all better. It would be amusing to watch Isles’s reaction. Her gaze flicked to Isle’s reflection. The guard had her back to Thrower, and was watching his reflection in the black screen of the monitor in front of her. Her shoulders were stiff, her face anxious as she watched silently. Thrower rubbed the bag, his lips tight with pain. It was obvious he warred within himself. Though he’d been through the withdrawals and now didn’t crave the drug, he was in a tremendous amount of pain, and he knew that one little piece of the drug would have him springing around like a child within half an hour. Would he succumb? One taste and he’d be hooked again. How utterly delightful! The inner pain Isles was going through was like a balm to Manya’s soul. The guard was worried that her partner, her would-be lover, was going to take the drug. Thrower closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, his finger tracing the opening of the bag. Just centimeters away was pain relief. Sweet, blessed relief from pain. Manya held her breath in anticipation. Opening his eyes, Thrower looked at Isles’s back, and Manya knew he had no idea she could see what he was doing. Then he placed the bag of Styx back in the drawer and closed it. What the hell…? Manya’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Instead of seeking sure relief from pain, the guard had put the Styx back in the drawer, and was now rubbing his eyes with the fingers of his good hand. Lowering his hand, he blew out a deep breath, placed his elbow on the desktop and rested his cheek atop his palm. He settled in to wait for Isles’s next move. Manya’s attention switched to the female guard. Sure enough, the stupid bitch had a small smile on her face, and–oh, for God’s sake! –pride. Pride for her lover boy who’d resisted temptation and who was stupid enough to continue in agony for her. And something else, there was something else on her face when she titled it to study the reflection of Thrower in the monitor. Yeah, she was in love with the idiot. Snorting in disgust, Manya slammed the locker door shut. Well, they could die here together. Rearranging her face to replace the snarl with a serious expression, Manya turned around and crossed the room, stopping at the console to check the disc. It had finished downloading, and she ejected it and unzipping her tunic, placed it with the other in the inside pocket. In a quick movement, she refastened her tunic top, and hissed in pain as her broken finger scrapped across the zip. Isles looked at her. “Did you get what you wanted?” “I sure did.” Manya continued to the alcove. “Then let’s go.” Moving towards Thrower who got painfully to his feet, she added, “Back up the stairs?” “I’ll be going up the stairs.” Turing to face them, she smiled tightly. “You two are staying here.” Reaching Thrower’s side, Isles wedged her shoulder into his armpit again, ready to take some of his weight. “Nice of you to wait for us, but don’t worry, we’ll be right behind you.”

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“Think so?” Holding up the small bottle of liquid, she smiled. “This is a highly flammable chemical. Very unstable. Have fun.” And she threw it in their direction. Without even waiting to see it land, she turned and ran through the alcove. As she reached the stairs, she heard the crack as it hit the floor, the small explosion, and the roar of flames. Yep, sometimes being a scientist and knowing chemicals came in handy. Every dark cloud has silver lining. Laughing, she went up the stairs, heading for Level One. ***** Crouched behind the desk, Lucia cursed letting the devious, lying cow live. “I should have broken her neck when I had the chance!” Teeth clenched against the throbbing of his leg, Thrower looked around the edge of the desk. “That fire is spreading!” “I don’t think she means for us to join her, Thrower.” “No shit?” “No shit.” Peering around the other side of the desk, Lucia eyed the rapidly spreading fire, and it chilled her to the bone. The flames roared high, seeking to devour anything in its path. The spread of liquid had ensured the fire would get a good start. The heat was already tremendous, and smoke started to fill the room. The only exit was through the alcove. The fire was between the exit and them. Looking around, she could see no way out. “We have to move back!” Thrower called to her above the roar of the fire. “It’s coming towards us!” Nodding, she started to crawl back, and then she saw the trouble he was having in moving properly. Even if he stood up, he couldn’t go as fast as she could, and they had to act with speed. Getting to her feet, she crouched over him. “Thrower!” “Yeah?” He looked up at her, his eyes so glazed with pain she could have cried. “I’m sorry!” “What?” Instead of answering, she grabbed his good leg and pulled back. He let out one scream of pain and then gritted his teeth and fisted his hands as she yanked him back from the encroaching flames. The floor was smooth, polished, and allowed him to slide. She made faster progress and managed to bring them both up against the far wall, leaving a good twenty feet between them and the roaring, spreading fire. “I’m sorry.” Crouched beside him, she laid her hand on his head and coughed. “Jonathon, I had to—“ “I understand.” He wheezed with the pain. “It’s all right.” Opening his eyes, he stared straight at her. “Run, Lucia. Don’t stay here because of me.” “No. I’m not leaving you.” “You have to. I’m not fast enough—“ “No.”

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“Isles—“ “Shut up and let me think!” Groaning, he subsided. Looking around, she tried to find some way to escape. Some way to get past the flames and to the alcove. She needed something to act as a shield. Her gaze fell on the big storage cupboard to the side of them. It was filled in on the sides and back, the front open with several shelves, a partial door on the top half. Papers, discs, and other assorted stuff were stored in it. It was big and deep. It had wheels to move around. An idea started to form, and she looked towards the water container. The fire was near it, but not quite there. “Stay here,” she ordered Thrower, and pushed to her feet. “What? Isles!” Adrenalin seared through her, forcing all thoughts of pain from her mind. Focusing on the water container, she took a deep breath and in a running crouch, her hand over her mouth and nose, she ran to where it was situated. Already the top of it was hot, the lid almost burning her hand. Blinking her eyes against the sting of smoke, feeling the searing heat almost singing her eyebrows, Lucia grabbed the water container and heaved it off the stand. Flipping it right side up she turned and ran back to Thrower in an awkward, crouching run. Within seconds of her leaving the area, the water container stand became engulfed in flames. “What the hell are you doing?” he yelled above the roar of the fire when she came to a skidding stop beside him. “Wait and see.” Taking a deep breath, she tossed the contents against the far wall, kicked the shelves lose and threw them aside, too. Grabbing the edge of it, she pushed it around so it faced her and Thrower with the back towards the fire. Grabbing the water container, she tipped the contents over herself, Thrower and the cupboard. Thrower spluttered then looked up at her from red-rimmed eyes. “You better have a good explanation for ruining my uniform, Ma’am.” She grinned at him. “I have, but you might not like it.” “Oh?” Hope sparked in his eyes. “You have a plan?” “We’re going into the fire. “We’re what?” “You heard. Now hop in, and I’m sorry, Thrower, but you’re going to have to scrunch up at the back. He was about to argue, but changed his mind. He looked at her for one long second, and then with her help, he crawled into the cupboard. The pain on his face was hard to watch, but the heat and roar of the fire made her shut off her emotions and focus on getting them out alive. The way to the alcove was directly across the room. There as nothing in their way except for the fire. So all she had to do was steer them into the fire, and hope to God she had enough strength to propel them through the flames to the alcove. And hope the alcove wasn’t on fire as well.

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The terrible thought crossed her mind, and she almost baulked, but they were going to die either way. This was their only chance. God forgive her if she killed them both instead. Burning to death…she shuddered inwardly. “Lucia?” Thrower looked at her soberly. “Whatever happens, Lucia, I love you.” She looked back at him and smiled softly. “And I love you.” And in that second, with death roaring up to them with hot hungry fingers of flame, she knew it for the truth. “One other thing,” she said, placing her foot on the floor. “Yeah?” “This dinner you owe me?” “Yeah?” He cocked his head to one side and looked at her. “No barbecue. Okay? No grills.” His eyes crinkled in amusement. “Whatever you say, Lucia.” “Love you.” She leaned forward, gave him a quick kiss, then drew back, slammed the top door shut to give them some protection from the flames, and pushed off with her booted foot. The cupboard moved easily over the smooth floor, but terror built inside her as the flames engulfed the outside of the cupboard. She had to move fast, for the heat was tremendous, and it was only going to be a short few minutes before they went up in flames. It seemed like forever, and she suddenly wondered if she’d pushed them in the right direction. Maybe we aren’t heading for the alcove, but instead we’re heading for the wall beside it. Maybe we aren’t heading for freedom. Maybe we’re heading for more fire. Her skin felt like it was burning beneath her uniform top. She gave another quick propulsion with her foot, thanking God silently for the sturdy boots and almost indestructible uniform that gave her some protection. Thrower’s gaze met hers in the hellish glow of the fire as it raged around them. For a split second, they stared at each other. Then Lucia felt the lick of flame on her back and screamed. Christ, I’m on fire! Even as the thought snapped through her horrified brain, the cupboard suddenly careered through something, she felt the bump under the wheels, and then it tipped backwards, flipping them both up. She thought she’d fallen out into the fire. Even as the cupboard tipped, she cringed from the lick of the flames. Only it wasn’t flames that hit her, but a hard wall. She crashed into it, Thrower landing almost on top of her. And there were no flames. Scrambling to her knees, she slapped wildly at her sleeves, but there were no flames. No flames? Looking up, she gazed at the wild fire spreading through the room across the alcove. “Oh my God,’ she whispered hoarsely, her eyes stinging and her throat sore from smoke. “Isles,” Thrower rasped in awe. “You did it! You got us through the fire!” But before he could say anything further, the cupboard wall let loose a few flicker of flames.

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“Come on!” Grabbing his hand, she dragged him to his feet. ‘We have to get out of here! Now!” ***** Pure adrenalin kept Thrower on his feet. Fear, excitement at having survived the fire, the need to run, to live, hammered in his brain, and he stumbled alongside Isles as she pulled him into the tunnel where the stairs were. They started up, him grunting with the effort of climbing. They only got ten steps up before Isles groaned. “Oh, shit!” “What?” Panting he looked up. “Oh, fuck!” The stairway was blocked by a cave-in. There was no way up. “Right!” He rasped loudly, unable to yell with such a raging sore throat. “Right! Down we bloody go then!” “Down?” Isles stared at him. “To the Garrison. Level Six!” “But Manya said it was totaled—“ “If we get up the catwalk stairs, it leads into the mineshaft and we can go straight up to the surface doors. It’s the only route left that I can think of!” “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. You’re right. We’re not giving up!” “Not when I get to take you to dinner and then shag you senseless.” The words fell out before he could stop them. “You ass.” Keeping tight hold of his hand, Isles started stumbling down the stairs. “Let’s go!” They passed the alcove and saw the fire still burning inside the office. A heavy glass door was partially shut, and trying to close the rest of the way. “The fire shut-downs are still working!” Thrower was amazed. “They run on different emergency power to the A.I,” Isles informed him. “A small generator will automatically kick-in in an emergency, just in case of problems like this.” “But the A.I. runs everything!” “Never put all your faith in one machine, Jonathon,” she said. “No smart designer of places ever does.” As they descended lower, he became more aware of his aches and pains. His leg was agony, nerves screaming out. His ankle was giving way, and his throat was tight. He glanced at Isles, and saw the raw, red burn on the hand that grasped his. The back of her uniform was singed, but the fire hadn’t broken through the amour-like material, however, there was no doubt there would be red blisters beneath the material from the intense heat. A bit of her hair was singed, but nothing too bad. If it hadn’t been for her quick thinking in dousing them with water before rolling through the fire, he had no doubt their injuries would have been a lot worse. Now he was in pain. There would have been no pain if he’d taken the Styx, but he wasn’t sorry that he hadn’t. After putting Isles through hell with his withdrawals, there was no way he could turn around and take it again, become addicted. No way. No way would he risk becoming addicted, violent, hurting Isles or anyone else innocent. He had to find a way to cope with the pain, but instinctively he knew she would help him. First, though, they had to get out of here, and he wasn’t so sure he was going to make it.

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He came down hard on his ankle, and stumbled. Pitching forward, he fell onto Isles and they both fell, she with a curse, he with a groan. Hip bouncing painfully on the stairs, he rolled, skidding and thrashing, crying out as his thigh smashed into another step. He glimpsed Isles cry out in pain as her back landed on the step below him, and desperately he tried to avoid slamming into her. Sideways he flipped over onto another step, then another, his ribs protesting the punishing journey. Then he came to an abrupt halt, crashing into Isles as she hung on grimly to the rail with both hands, leaving her body in his way to act as a barrier. Almost in ridiculous slow motion, he slid past her and came to a stop, sprawled painfully across the stairs. To add insult to injury, he slid down another step with an agonizing thump. Silence filled the tunnel—the only sound that of their heavy, pained breathing. “Isles?” he managed painfully. “Yeah, Jonathon?” she replied weakly. “Are you all right?” “Hell, no. You?” “I don’t know.” As the minutes ticked past, his thundering heart slowed down to a steady rhythm. He lay there, on his back, eyes shut. He thought he might have even dozed off for awhile, for the next thing he knew, Isles sat beside him, his head in her lap. Tapping his cheek gently, she called to him. He opened his eyes and blinked painfully up at her. “Hey,” she managed. Her smile was tight, the corners of her mouth white. “Isles. I’m sorry.” He winced. “I stumbled…” “Your ankle and leg. I forgot. It’s my fault.” “No, it’s mine.” He took a deeper, experimental breath. “I don’t know if I can move.” Concern made her voice shake. “Can you feel your legs?” “Yes. It’s okay, I’m not paralyzed.” “Can you move? Move your arms.” He obeyed. “I’m okay. In a way.” “Can you get up and walk?” “Christ. What do you think?” “My arm’s broken, Thrower. You have to get up.” Her words made him blink, and then worry for her shot through him. Painfully he pushed up into a sitting position, twisting with great difficulty to study her. She held her other arm across her body awkwardly, and there was a sheen of tears in her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart.” He touched her hair and pushed a lock behind her ear. “It’s okay.” Her smile was tremulous. “We have to go. We can’t stop here.” “You arm—“ “Your leg.” A tear slipped free to trickle down the soot on her cheek. Tenderly, he placed one arm around her shoulders and drew her carefully into his aching side. “We’ll be fine, Lucia.”

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She started to cry softly, and that hurt him even more than his own pains. His secondin-command, the woman he loved, and the most courageous and calm female he’d ever met in the whole galaxy, had finally reached a point where she couldn’t go on any further. A point where instead of being the one to give comfort, to be in control, to be the calm and rational one, it was her turn to need the comfort. And after everything she’d done, everything he’d done to her during his withdrawal, and everything they’d been through, he wondered that she hadn’t cracked sooner under the strain. A lesser person, man or woman, would have cracked. Resting his cheek on her head, he let her cry quietly. His one good hand he used to gently rub the base of her neck, for he wasn’t game to touch her shoulder in case he hurt her broken arm. He didn’t even know where the break was, upper or lower arm. Her crying was quiet, but it didn’t last long. The tears dried up and she sighed heavily, but it was many minutes before she finally spoke. “Tell anyone about this, Thrower, and I will personally kick your ass.”

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Chapter Ten Underground Between Levels “Ma’am, I wouldn’t dream of divulging such confidential information as this,” he joked gently. “Then consider it an order.” “Yes Ma’am.” Lifting her head, she straightened up and sniffed, keeping her head down. Resting the hand of the broken arm in her lap, she started rubbed her eyes, then her cheeks, and finally gave one last sniff. “Sorry, Thrower.” “What for?” “Bawling like a baby when we don’t have the time.” “Look at me, Lucia.” She glanced sideways at him. “Really look at me. Don’t make me turn your head; I don’t want to hurt you.” “Touch my arm and you die, Thrower.” He had to laugh at the sheepish tone of her voice. “Then look at me.” Turning her head to face him, she looked him right in the eye, a typical Isles gesture. “Sweetheart,” he said sincerely, “I’m not going to beat about the bush. You saved my life so many times on this little picnic of ours. You’ve endured so much pain, and we’ve been through so much. What’re a few tears between two people who love each other?” “I shouldn’t cry until we’re out of this mess.” “Messes are made for crying in.” “That’s crap.” “Maybe, but did it make you feel better?” “You’re such an ass, Jonathon.” But she smiled. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.” “Says who?” “You. Right before you took me through the fires.” “That was stress talking.” “You can’t take it back, Lucia. It’s too late.” Carefully, she moved her hand and linked their fingers together. “I do love you, Jonathon. It shocks the shit out of me, but there you have it.” “You’re so romantic.” He grinned, felt a split on his lip open up from the movement, and a trickle of blood started to dribble down his chin. “Shouldn’t you be shedding tears of happiness instead of blood?” “You’d think so, but you bring out the strangest reactions in me.” “I’d kiss you, Thrower, but I don’t like the taste of blood.” “You wouldn’t make a good vampire then, would you?” She smiled. “I like my meat well done. Remember that for our dinner.” “This dinner is becoming complicated. I say we skip the main meal and go straight for dessert.”

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“What’s for dessert?” “You. I’m going to lick you all over.” “Kinky. But I want my meat first.” He attempted a leer. “You’ll get my meat all right.” “Now that’s downright nasty. But we’re not going to make dinner if we don’t get a move on.” Her face grew serious. “We need to get to that mercenary ship before it leaves.” She was right. Grabbing the rail, he drew himself painfully, almost agonizingly, to his feet. Sweat broke out on his brow as pain flared hotly through his leg, reaching from his ankle to his thigh. Reaching down with his good hand, he grabbed hold of Isles’s good elbow and gave her leverage as she pushed to her feet. Sweat streaked her face, and her lips were white in the corners. Her face had a pinched look. Cradling her broken arm close to her, she looked at the stairs before them, and then nodded decisively. “Let’s go.” When she made to tuck her good shoulder into his armpit, he shook his head. “No way.” “Thrower—“ “Your injured badly, I’m injured badly. We’ll take it slowly and get down together. There’s no way I’m leaning on you.” “Thrower—“ “No. And that’s an order, Ma’am.” She glared at him then sighed and nodded, taking him by surprise. He didn’t realize until too late what she planned when she moved in front of him and several steps down before looking back up at him over her shoulder. “Isles, if I fall, I’ll land on you.” He frowned. “Correct. I’ll break your fall.” “Don’t be silly. Get behind me and—“ Tossing her head, she swore in pain, and then started slowly making her way down the stairs. Thrower had no choice but to follow her. Their decent down the stairs was clumsy and gradual, each taking care, trying not to jar their injuries while at the same time keeping an eye on each other. Level Three passed, then Level Four. Thrower’s leg screamed now, and he had to bite back the moans of pain. Several times they were forced to stop and rest as precious time ticked by, but there was nothing they could do. “The spirit is willing,” Isles remarked wearily. “But the flesh is weak,” Thrower finished. “Or in our case, battered black and blue.” “Twisted and broken.” “We have so much in common.” “The perfect couple,” she agreed. They smiled slightly at each other. They continued down, finally passing Level Five. Thrower felt like crying when they finally stepped down onto Level Six. After sharing a long look, they turned and made their way carefully down the remainder of the tunnel.

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A light came from the opening ahead, and they approached it. Isles peered through in astonishment. “This door is behind the cupboard where we keep the suits for the engine room!” “Secret tunnels, secret passages.” Thrower clicked his tongue in disgust. “I never want to work in a place like this again.” “You mean we need to find you a new career?” “Oh yeah.” Isles stepped through the opening and he followed close behind her. Holding out her good hand, she tried to help him from the cupboard. By the time he got out into the little room, they’d both done a lot of swearing and groaning, but giving up wasn’t an option. It seemed like weeks had passed since he’d disobeyed her direct order and snuck back through the Engine room to the Control room. But he knew it had only been days, knew it because he caught a glimpse of the battery-run calendar on the opposite wall. It was strange how blackness, despair and withdrawal could screw with time. Limping close beside each other, they moved out of the little room and out into the passageway leading to the gym and cabins. Thrower wished he could just run through the passageway instead of limping along. There was the worry that for every second they moved slower and slower, could be precious seconds lost in getting to the mercenary ship…if it was still even there. God, let it be there! If it had left already, and Manya had taken her ship–wherever it was–then they would die with the planet. After all they’d been through, it would have to be one of the worst ironies to have ever happened to him. Moving painfully down the passageway, they tried to move faster, the knowledge that they were so close to escaping giving them heart. Coming out into the corridor where their cabins and the gym were, they gaped in stunned amazement. The tunnels had been collapsing, and cave-ins had occurred–hell, they’d been through one themselves in the Control Room–but seeing the destruction of some of the cabins made them realize how lucky they’d been. Deep within the planet, the tunnels were collapsing, and topside, the impenetrable fortress of the Penitentiary and Duran Corporation Offices were caving in. Metal and steel, iron and unbreakable sheet glass were no match for the might of a planet tearing apart. It was crumbling and bending the place as though a child was slowly smashing a dolls house. “Someone’s done some redecorating,” Thrower finally said. “Don’t think you’re doing our place like this,” Isles retorted. “You don’t like the rustic look?” He skirted around the dumbbell that was lying in the middle of the passageway. “I like clean and neat. Don’t tell me your cabin looks like this, Thrower.” “Come on, sweetheart, you’ve seen my cabin on the monitors. It’s tidy. Neat as a pin.” “Oh yeah, I forgot. Military man.” Glancing into her own cabin as she passed, Isles blanched. “Hell.” Turning, he looked inside. There was nothing left of her cabin but a pile of rubble where the roof had caved in. “Isles, I’m so sorry. Did you have anything of value in there?”

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“Mementos. There was nothing worth a lot of money, mostly only sentimental value. Photos. Gifts given to me by my family.” She drew a deep breath. “But we’re alive, that’s more important.” “Yeah.” “What about you? Anything of value in your cabin?” “Nothing I’d risk my life for.” “Let’s stop mooning over what can’t be reclaimed and get moving.” The stalwart second-in-command was back, and Thrower smiled to himself. ***** Underground Level Six Catwalk They traversed the rest of the way very cautiously, limping through the water from the pool that had swamped the corridor, and picking their way through some private belongings that littered the floor. Bits of metal and beams from the roof lay here and there, and they had to be careful of the debris. Finally they came to the enormous floor-to-ceiling wall of monitors just before the Control room. Only one was working that Thrower could see, and it was flickering too much for him to make out properly. “It’s an old recording of some kind,” Isles said after several seconds of watching it. “It’s flickering and playing over and over, so it’s of no relevance to us.” “Then let’s get up the Catwalk and make for the exit.” He swallowed at the thought of even attempting such an agonizing climb. “Not that going through a mine shaft is something I want to do.” “Right.” Painfully moving over to the Catwalk stairs, Isles placed her foot on it, and giving out a loud groan, she hoisted herself up the first step. “Hold it right there!” A voice shouted. Looking up, they saw a furious and incredulous Manya high up on the catwalk. Rage burned through Thrower, but in his state he couldn’t do more than rasp out a foul word. “How the hell did you two survive the fire?” Manya screeched. “Damned inconvenient of us, I know.” Isles glared up at her. “I thought you’d be long gone, Manya. Cave-in on Level Two secret staircase stop you, too?” “I’ll make sure you two die this time!” “Oh, please. Why don’t you just tell us why you’re still here?” A chill crept through Thrower. Was the exit to the mineshaft caved-in as well? “Ensuring extra wealth.” She waved a disc at them. “I found a little interesting something on the monitor down there.” “The broken one flickering all the time?” Isles sighed. You’re getting a bit desperate, aren’t you?” Tucking the disc securely into her pocket, she zipped up the front of her tunic and sneered. “You don’t know what’s going on under your own nose, Isles. Now, it’s time to finish you two off once and for all.”

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“Manya, all we want is to get out of this place. You do what you want with your discs. We don’t care.” “You’ll destroy me, Isles, and that I can’t allow.” Wearily, Isles pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “You have the only evidence, Manya. We have nothing, and there’ll be nothing once this planet explodes. So we’re no threat to you.” “I can’t trust you, Isles, or Thrower. Now he’s not under the influence of the Styx, he’s liable to want a bit of revenge.” Manya cocked her head to the side, her eyes gleaming. “No, I’m afraid you’ll have to both go.” The scientist was in a better physical condition than they were, Thrower knew, and he growled low in his throat. Fury lent him a little more strength, and he placed his hand on Isles’s shoulder. She glanced at him over her shoulder, the weariness in her eyes touched with the light of battle. She would have put to shame a number of soldiers he’d worked with. “Let’s back away and hide until that mad bitch disappears,” he suggested quietly. “All right. But I so want to smash her head in.” “First things first, Isles. We can track her down once we’re away from this planet and fixed up.” A movement made them look up again. Manya held another small bottle. “Oh, shit!” Thrower couldn’t believe it. “Recognize this little stuff?” Manya drew her arm back. “Fire! She’s going to burn us again!” Isles yelled. They both tried to move back, but even the adrenalin wasn’t enough for them to move fast. Stumbling, grimacing, they both edged back while keeping their gazes trained on Manya. “You won’t get away this time,” she informed them with a brittle laugh. “This mix will go everywhere and you’re going to burn!” It just had to be Divine Intervention, Thrower insisted later. The quake hit, throwing them all of balance. The catwalk lurched, a groan of stressed metal squealing loudly. Manya was knocked back against the wall, the bottle falling from her upheld hand. Horrified, she looked up, just as the bottle came down and broke on her face. Fire flared, following the chemical as it poured over her face and down her neck, sending tendrils of flame down her neck and over her shoulders. The screams made the hair on Thrower’s neck stand on end, and Isles bit her lip as they watched the half-monack torch stagger on the catwalk. Arms flailing, Manya hit the rail and in blind agony, went straight over the side. Plummeting to her death, she fell straight down through a jagged hole in the floor to the level below. Though out of sight, her screams resounded until a muffled thump stilled them. The smell of burning flesh drifted back up through the hole. If Thrower had of had anything in his stomach, he’d have vomited it up then and there. In horrified silence they stared at the hole in the floor on the other side of the catwalk. “Well,” Isles finally muttered. “I wish I could say I was sorry, but she had it coming.” Thrower nudged Isles. “Let’s go.”

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Climbing the stairs of the catwalk was just going to kill her. Chest hurting from smoke inhalation, her eyes stinging and feeling like there was a ton of grit in them, Lucia hauled her sore body up the stairs one step at a time. Behind her she could hear Thrower, his rasping breath filled with so much pain it even hurt her to listen. Her broken arm might be killing her, but at least she didn’t have to put any weight on it. Cradling it with her good hand gave it some support. The ringing of their boots on the iron steps was loud in the silence. In the distance came the now familiar rumbling of the earth, and the occasional crack as something unnamable and unknown on the other side of the prison walls moved and shifted. “You know, Thrower,” Lucia said, trying to take her mind of the painful journey up the stairs. “What?” “My next job is not going to be underground, I can tell you that.” “Ditto for me.” “Maybe we should do farming or something.” “I’ve had more shit than I can take lately, Lucia. No farming.” “Just a thought.” Panting, they moved further up the stairs, only stopping now and again to ease their screaming muscles and tortured breathing. Once they hit the top of the catwalk, they leaned against the rail and gazed down at the mess below. Everything they’d known and worked with was trashed. The Garrison looked like a battle zone. The formidable fortress was a mess. Not so different to the occupants, Lucia thought wryly. “I think we need to get moving.” Thrower touched her hand. “If we don’t get out of here now, I may not move ever again.” “You’ll move, Thrower. My boot up your behind will ensure that.” “You make me all horny when you talk like that.” “In your state, I doubt it.” “Just wait until I’m all better and you’re at my mercy.” “Like I said, you have a lot of bragging to live up to.” Pushing away carefully from the rail, they continued slowly across the creaking metal catwalk, aware of it swaying slightly beneath their feet. They finally made it to the exit door that led into the mineshaft. Lucia never wanted to see another mineshaft in her entire life. Maybe it was time she started studying medicine under her father after all. His patients were topside, not buried under a ton of buckling metal and shifting earth. The mineshaft angled upwards, and she looked at Thrower in concern. “Oh, God.” His jaw clenched. “I don’t know…” “You’ll do it, boy,” Lucia said firmly. “You owe me dinner.” “I’m so tired.” “And you look like hell. Jonathon, this is the last bit, all we have to do. Let’s go.” “Have you thought of something, Isles?” She looked at him.

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“It’s freezing up there. The ship is a fair way away, by the co-ordinates. We could freeze on the way.” “Don’t worry; I know where a cache of emergency parkas and respirators is kept. It’s just inside the opening to the shaft, in a rock shelf on the right. It’s kept there in case someone gets caught topside with nothing.” “And that would happen when?” “Try now. It’s an emergency safety thing, of which you don’t seem to know much about.” “I’m an action man.” “I’m surprised your head wasn’t blown off a long time ago. So, do you want to stop now? Not even try?” “We could die trying.” “So we’ll die together.” Linking the fingers of her good hand through his, she squeezed gently. “But we’ll die trying, not cowering.” “I don’t think we’ve exactly cowered at any time.” “And we’re not going to start now.” He laughed, coughed, and then lowered his head until his forehead rested against hers. “Love you, Lucia.” “Ditto.” She brushed her lips across his. It was a brief moment over too soon. Pulling back she disengaged their hands and cradled her broken arm carefully. “Let’s go.” Every step was almost impossible, but she disregarded any thought of not being able to do it. Placing one foot in front of the other, she moved slowly but surely up the incline. Beside her Thrower limped along, using the wall to support him. Not once did he complain, but his skin was ashen with the pain. She knew he couldn’t go much further before he would collapse, and she prayed he’d make it to the top. Once they got there…well, she didn’t know what they’d do. They’d probably die, but if they stopped now, it was a death sentence anyway. Some choice. But going forward was what she did best. They’d have to worry about getting to the ship once they were topside. Halfway up the shaft they heard the low, rumbling growl. “Oh no.” Thrower closed his eyes and groaned. “Oh no. Tell me it isn’t so!” The growl resounded against the walls, echoing down the shaft. The growling was coming from higher up. “Bearcat.” Lucia felt like screaming in frustration. “A bloody bearcat!” Standing in the middle of the shaft, cradling her arm, she didn’t know whether to cry or start raging. “Where can we hide?” He looked around. “Nowhere. This shaft is straight, no detours, and no hiding spots.” “You’ve been here before, obviously.” The growl turned to a roar, and slowly they started backing down the shaft, their gazes trained on the opening the whole time.

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“I like to know the layouts of my surroundings.” Trying to breathe evenly, she glanced behind her. It didn’t seem fair that they’d come this far only to have to retreat. For every step they gained, they seemed to lose it. The bearcat appeared at the top of the incline. Tossing its huge, shaggy head, it eyed Lucia and Thrower from gleaming eyes, and lifting up its head, it opened its mouth wide and screamed. Sharp teeth flashed, and it licked its lips as it lowered its head and looked down at them. The monster from nightmares started to descend. There was no way they were going to get out of this alive. “Move slowly,” Thrower hissed. “Don’t give it cause to move faster.” “What, you think its going to let us get back into the Garrison?” “I don’t know, Lucia. I’m just trying to buy us some time.” “Time for what?” “A miracle?” A miracle was what they needed, for the beast broke into a shambling run, and its hungry eyes were trained on its prey. “It’s coming!” Thrower shouted. “Run!” They tried, but even adrenalin couldn’t keep them going. Thrower’s leg just couldn’t take his weight, and he went down like a stone, rolling several feet down the incline. There was no way Lucia was going to leave him to face the bearcat alone. Standing in front of his prone body, she turned and faced the bearcat, cradling her arm and shaking. “Lucia! Run! Goddamnit, run!” “No!” “I’ll keep him occupied while you get away!” “Shut up, Thrower!” Swearing a blue streak, he tried to shove her away, but she stood her ground. Death in the form of a huge, hungry and angry bearcat bore down on them with increasing speed, and she prepared to lunge at the it in one last, stupid, and totally useless attempt at saving Thrower. Stupid because he couldn’t even move fast enough to get away. Useless because no one ever fought a bearcat hand-to-hand and lived to tell the tale. Hell, they were lucky to last five seconds before the bearcat bit their heads off or slashed them wide open to spill steaming entrails on the ground. The bearcat launched itself at them, and she tensed. It sailed through the air, claws extended. “Lucia, no!” Thrower screamed. In the act of moving, she heard the short, sharp zapping sound and saw the bearcat flinch. It swerved to the side, skidding along the dirt, claws digging in for a hold. Blood spattered its coat, and it roared and spun around to stare back down the shaft at the new threat. Voices sounded, shouted orders, and phaser fire seared the air. Dragging Lucia down to the floor, Thrower attempted to cover her with his own body.

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Agony shot through her arm and she nearly blacked out. Pain beat in her head, lights flaring behind her eyes. Muffled voices sounded, and the roar of the big bearcat thundered through the shaft. Phaser fire sizzled, along with heavier fire. Bits of rock and dirt rained down on top of Lucia and Thrower, and he grunted in pain as a chunk hit his sore leg. There was a scrabbling of claws, and then a hot breath passed over their heads. Opening her eyes, she saw a huge claw directly before her eyes and cringed. Then it was gone, the bearcat turning and lunging back up the shaft. Lifting her head, she gasped in shock to see the bearcat in retreat, blood dripping from a shoulder wound. Within seconds several booted feet thundered past her head along with shouted orders. Dirt swirled in the air and settled before her startled eyes. Running after the bearcat were six soldiers in what she recognized as the uniform of the former Imperial soldiers. “What the hell…” She turned her head painfully to find Thrower staring after the soldiers, his mouth hanging open. “I thought the members of the Minoux royal family had all been killed in the Urban Battles on Andromeda?” “It’s said some survived and still fight.” Thrower squinted at the disappearing figures. “I think we’re looking at some of the rebel fighters.” “Then the merc ship…” “It’s theirs.” “But why here?” A booted foot came to rest in front of their faces, and they both looked slowly up a lilac clad leg. A Level Eight prisoner’s clothes. “Why do you think?” a woman’s voice drawled. ***** Unable to look any higher, Thrower painfully moved off Lucia, and she started to roll carefully to her feet. Suddenly there were more military boots around them, more uniformed legs and weapons pointing down. Hands hooked under her armpits and she was hauled unceremoniously to her feet. Agony shot through her arm and she couldn’t suppress the small cry that slipped past her gritted teeth. Nausea rolled through her, and black spots danced before her eyes. Dimly she felt hands supporting her, holding her upright. “Be careful!” She heard Thrower’s anxious voice distantly. “Her arm’s broken.” Then he groaned in pain when someone obviously hauled him upright as well. “Can you hear me?” The woman’s voice came from far away. “Don’t faint on me, guard. Look at me.” A hand tapped her cheek. “Focus.” Well, she was trying. Lucia blinked and gasped, and suddenly someone tipped some cold water into her mouth. Coughing, she swallowed and drew in a deep breath. Slowly the woman’s face swam into view. A woman she recognized from Level Eight, a woman that she knew Xerna had mentioned a couple of times for her regal bearing. Yes, this woman did have a regal bearing. Lucia had taken notice on her patrols. Looking at her now, she waited. The woman looked back calmly at her.

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Glancing around, Lucia saw Thrower being held up. His eyes were full of pain and weariness, but also a little light of rebellion. Good old Thrower, never one to give up until he was dead. Which they might well be. Clearing her throat, she turned her attention back to the lilac-clad prisoner and rasped, “What do Imperial rebels want with you?” “I am Zarah Minoux of the Royal House of Andromeda. These rebels, as you call them are my soldiers, the Imperial soldiers of the Royal House of Andromeda.” “You’re the princess?” Lucia was stunned. “But—“ “Level Eight, political prisoners.” Zarah’s face remained expressionless. “A guest of the Corporation that have been mining the guts from this planet in pure greed.” Lucia knew the story. The Duran Corporation had financed the military to kill the members of the Minoux royal family, but she’d never suspected one of the royals had been held prisoner here. She’d always wondered how many had survived. “Please,” Thrower said. “Take Isles with you.” Zarah flicked a glance at him. “You plead for her, but not yourself…soldier?” Surprised, he blinked. “Pardon?” “I’ve seen you before, soldier. You fought for the other side.” Hostility was evident in the soldiers surrounding them. Lucia looked from Thrower to Zarah. “There’s always two sides in a war,” she began. “He chose the wrong side.” “The Urban Battles of Andromeda were fought by me and my company, yes,” Thrower said stiffly. “But that war is over now.” “Yes. Now you’re a guard, and how ironic,” she murmured, “I was still your prisoner.” A muscle jumped in Thrower’s jaw. “I don’t ask for help for me, I ask it for Lucia.” Zarah’s gaze rested on her face thoughtfully. “I go nowhere without Thrower,” Lucia stated, and touched his sleeve lightly. “Isles—“ “Together, Thrower. We go together or not at all.” “Princess, I can kill him here right now for you,” one of the soldiers said. “And I’ll kick your ass if you do,” Lucia responded promptly. The soldier looked down at her with a mixture of hostility and amusement. “How very noble,” Zarah said. “Luckily for you, guards, your passage has already been negotiated by one of your fellow officers.” Isles’s heart leaped at the news that a fellow guard had escaped the prison, but before she could say anything, she was interrupted. “Princess, surely—“the soldier began heatedly. Zarah silenced him with a raised hand. “The Urban Battles are over. This man, Thrower, is now a guard, not a soldier.” Her gaze warmed briefly. “And he has cared for me. When I was sick, he noticed immediately and got the prison doctors to see me. Some guards would not have done the same.” The soldier subsided, but the hostility was still in the air. “Medic!” Zarah stepped back.

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The supporting hands holding Lucia and Thrower upright shifted immediately, and they both staggered and would have fallen if the same hands didn’t hurriedly catch them again and ease them to a sitting position on the ground. A soldier wearing a medic’s armband squatted down beside them. After a quick, impersonal, but efficient examination of them both, he raised one eyebrow and looked up at Zarah. “Princess, I’m surprised they made it this far with their injuries. Between them they have a broken arm, twisted ankle, strained muscles, burns, numerous lacerations and bruises, other injuries which I cannot tell until I do a more detailed examination on the ship, and from the looks of this man, Thrower, an old injury that hasn’t healed properly.” Thrower looked at him. “It was treated. There’s nothing more that can be done for it.” The medic shrugged. “I’ll tell you more after I’ve had a better look at it. But I say otherwise.” Thrower caught Lucia’s gaze and she saw a flicker of hope in his eyes. “If he can’t do anything, my father will,” she told him. “That may be awhile in coming,” Zarah said. “For now, you’ll be taken aboard my ship and placed in the medi-quarters under guard. Once treated and stabilized, you’ll be taken to the brig. Medic, can they walk?” “They won’t make the trek to the ship. We’ll have to carry them.” “Fine. Let’s do it, and hurry. We have things to do.” Placing two small packs on the floor, the medic positioned one beside Lucia and the other beside Thrower. Everyone stepped back as he undid the snap on each pack. The packs unfolded to form two narrow, thin stretches. Folded on top were two thermal space blankets. One of the soldiers stepped forward to assist the medic as he ordered Lucia and Thrower to get on the stretches. Normally, she would have argued, but she was so tired, so sore, and in so much pain, that lying down and letting someone else take over was pure heaven right then. Lying back on the stretcher, she felt the thermal space blanket draped over her and tucked in, and as the medic stepped back, he flicked a switch at the head of the stretcher. Immediately it lifted off the ground and hung at waist level. Two soldiers fell into place, one at the head and one at the foot of the stretchers. Two more did the same to Thrower’s stretcher. “Hang on tight to them when we get outside,” the medic ordered. Moving along with no effort on her part was just bliss. The soldiers fell in around them, Zarah in the lead, and Lucia looked across at Thrower. He stuck his hand out from under the thermal blanket. “Lucia.” Carefully she eased her own hand out and laid it in his. It hurt her to do so, but she didn’t care. She needed to touch him. “Jonathon.” “I think we’ll have to put that dinner on hold for a little while.” “You think?” She smiled wearily at him. “But when we finally get to it, order anything you want.” “I’m going to hold you to that, Thrower.” “Yes, Ma’am.”

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A chill wind wound down the shaft, and the medic reached down and disengaged their hands, placing them firmly beneath the thermal space blankets. “Stay warm,” he ordered sternly. And Lucia was warm. Apart from the cold wind that slapped her in the face as they moved out of the shaft into the open, the rest of her was toasty under the protection of the thermal blanket, not to mention the soldiers surrounding her and Thrower, their bodies helping to break the wind. The trek across the snow-swept, rocky ground was not her problem now, and she thanked God for that. Grey clouds moved overhead, the wind whirled savagely, and she buried her nose under the thermal space blanket. It took longer than she thought to get to the ship, but as her stretcher was raised and pushed into the back of it to be transported to the medic-quarters, she looked down to Thrower, where he lay in his stretcher waiting to be handed up behind her, and she smiled at him. He winked back, snow on his brows. Around them came the distant rumbles of plates shifting, snow blew, a harsh wind sliced through everything, and hot magma boiled in the distance. But they were safe. Lucia breathed a sigh of relief. The stretcher was taken through the corridors of the ship and eventually she was taken into a large cabin which she guessed was the medic-quarters, going by the instruments and various medial items she recognized behind glass doors. Her stretcher was paced on one table, and Thrower’s was placed on the next. Two guards positioned themselves at the door and waited, their features expressionless. As the medic entered along with his aide, Lucia looked at Thrower. “Jonathon?” “Yeah, Lucia?” His weary eyes shone with tenderness as he returned her gaze. “This dinner.” Amusement crept into his voice. “Yeah?” “Nothing cold, okay?” He started laughing. “And no underground restaurants.” The medic gave them an odd look as he walked past the stretchers. “Whatever you say, Lucia.” Thrower grinned. “You’re the boss.” “And don’t forget it.” “Yes Ma’am.” Smiling, she closed her eyes. Whatever happened next, she and Thrower were safe, and though the future was uncertain, they were still alive and being taken care of. Sometimes, days were hell, and sometimes days were uncertain. But one thing remained sure. The love they shared had weathered what they’d been through, what they were going through, and it would weather their future together, come what may. The End