Desolate Tides (Earth Exiles Book 5) Read online

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  Joan looked over at Desci, surprised that he’d asked the question, considering his earlier shyness. The boy had been through a lot. She smiled, “Yes, I think he’s going to be okay.”

  “He used to play with me. He’d throw me up in the air and catch me,” Desci explained.

  “Well, when he gets better, he’ll still be able to play with you,” Joan explained.

  Desci looked puzzled, “How? He’s only got one leg.”

  Joan thought about that. After the war in Iraq and Afghanistan, the Department of Defense had been very good about equipping wounded soldiers with artificial limbs. The artificial limb had come a long way with modern prosthesis engineering and the use of new ultra-light composite materials. Many of the wounded veterans were just as active after they received their artificial limbs as they had been before they were wounded.

  They had the engineering and materials capability with the three Amigos and Hank and Will in fabrication. Willow could create any material they wanted with the chemical printer. They didn’t have access to that equipment anymore, though. They’d had to leave it all behind back in the canyons. Still, she knew her husband. He wouldn’t be happy until he had a new leg so that he could run again, even if he had to carve it out of a tree limb.

  With that thought, she suddenly realized that Everett would be okay. She looked down at his face, peaceful in medicated bliss. She had just experienced a paradigm shift in the way that she thought about him. Now, she was thinking about his future, after he recovered, instead of worrying if he’d make it through the night.

  She looked at Desci, and, with more conviction in her voice, she told him, “Trust me. Everett will be playing with you again, and throwing you into the air. I can promise you that.”

  Desci didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue with her. He’d seen stranger things happen with these Emurecuns.

  Joan looked around, “Do we have anything to eat? I’m hungry.”

  Olmla quickly brought a brazier out and set it over the fire. She forked meat onto the iron and covered the strips with spice. As it started cooking, Joan realized just how hungry she was.

  “Hello.”

  Joan turned to see Matki come walking into their little clearing. Joan smiled as Desci sprang up to hug his father tightly around his waist. Matki put his hands under Desci’s arms and picked him up to give him a kiss on his head. Matki lowered him back to the ground and sniffed the air and walked over to kiss Olmla, “That smells delicious. I hope you have enough for me as well.”

  Olmla nodded and put more meat on the brazier.

  “Have you made tea?” he asked.

  Once again, she nodded, and pointed at a pot boiling next to the fire.

  Matki walked over, picked up a cup, and poured the tea. He smiled at Joan, hooking a thumb at Olmla, “She’s quiet, but she knows how to cook.”

  Joan nodded, “I bet she’s not so quiet when she’s alone with just your family.”

  Matki rolled his eyes, “Oh, you’re right there. Can’t get her to shut up then.”

  Olmla chucked a small rock at him, smiling.

  Matki chuckled and then looked at his friend, Everett, “How is he?”

  Joan followed his eyes with her own, staring at Everett’s fragile features, “I think he’s going to be okay. Mickey did an amazing job.”

  “When does he not?” Matki asked.

  Matki’s head jerked around and he stared out into the twilight. His hand strayed to the knife on his hip, “I think somebody’s coming.”

  “You’d be right, somebody is,” a voice announced out of the darkness.

  Mitchem appeared through the trees, “I heard you were over here. I had to come and find you both. We have a problem. Joacar’s stirring up the Althus people.”

  Joan gasped. Matki switched his gaze from Mitchem to Joan, “Is everything okay?”

  Joan nodded, and placed her hand on her stomach, “Everything’s fine. My water just broke.”

  ----------------------------------------------------

  Om Varee’s hand shook slightly as he poured another glass of wine.

  “Are you sure?”

  Om Varee studied the level of the wine as he poured it. A smirk crossed his lips as he contemplated the question. He nodded. Still, he concentrated on pouring until he was satisfied the wine was at the perfect level. After all, he didn’t know if he would ever taste wine again, especially this wonderful vintage. There had been a shift in circumstances. One that was not unexpected, and that he had prepared for, but the timing was sooner than he had anticipated.

  “Yes, I’m relatively certain.”

  He placed the decanter back onto the table as he swirled the liquid in the fine crystal glass. He picked up the stopper for the decanter and put it back in place with a slight clink as the glass touched. He ran his hand across the smooth surface of the dark, majestic wooden table. Luxuries that he enjoyed, but probably wouldn’t get to experience over the coming months, if ever again.

  “How do you know?” Mara’a asked.

  Jhani’s giggle tinkled across the room, “Silly girl, he always knows. He has spies everywhere. That’s what he does.”

  Mara’a glared at Jhani, which made her giggle.

  Om Varee stopped swirling the amber liquid and turned to Mara’a. She was absolutely lovely. Then he looked over at Jhani, and sighed. Only these two lovely ladies could make combat gear look so absolutely fetching.

  They were both dressed in brown mottled suits that were designed for maximum movement with as much armor as possible. The colors of the suits shifted slightly as the light hit it from different angles. Mara’a’s vest was decorated with extra magazines for the pistol on her hip, as well as the short barreled, silenced combat rifle. The rifle in question hung from a strap on her back with a quick release that allowed quick access. She had multiple concussion and fragmentation grenades as well. Om Varee and Jhani were her identical twins, also dressed as she was. Combat helmets were set on tables close to them, ready to be picked up in a moment’s notice. Go bags were waiting in the hallway behind them so they could grab them and move quickly.

  Mara’a stood there with questioning eyes. Her questions were not unanticipated by Om Varee. She wasn’t a foot soldier to carry out orders without explanation. She hadn’t asked questions when the alert came over his computer. When he told them to get ready for imminent combat, she’d not said a word, and complied quickly, because she understood what the stakes were, for all of them. She understood this might be a false alarm, and if it was, she would tease him incessantly about it. But right now, Mara’a was a highly motivated killing machine, willing to do anything it took to protect her family. With the lull in activity, however, and no Dinshani assassins around as an immediate threat to eliminate, she had questions, and expected answers.

  Om Varee sighed. He eyed his wine glass with longing as he sat it on the table so that he could fully explain their predicament.

  He pointed at Jhani, “What she said.”

  The frown on Mara’a’s face indicated that his glibness wouldn’t work this time, so he pointed at the display on his computer, which showed a series of monitored hallways, “We’ll know more if she overrides the cameras I have in the hallways. If they stop working, then she’s probably going to send in the assassins to subdue or kill us.”

  Mara’a’s arms crossed, and her foot started tapping.

  A sardonic grin pasted onto Om Varee’s lips. He walked over and put his arms around her. There was a core of steel there, and she didn’t give an inch.

  Jhani laughed again, “You’re so clueless at times, Varee. That’s not going to work. You should know that. Go ahead and tell her.”

  Jhani was a much different woman than Mara’a. She was probably the most capable warrior of the three. She, unlike Mara’a, preferred action over intrigue. When Om Varee told her to prepare for combat, she squealed with glee like she was about to have a party. This assignmen
t had been tough on her, not only because she was bored, but also because she was tired of playing the ingénue. While she was definitely eye candy, she was so much more than that. Capable and deadly, her waifish good looks often distracted her targets from their imminent demise.

  Om Varee stepped back, shrugged, and spread his hands, “catastrophe has struck our band of thregari ghost soldiers.”

  Mara’a moved over and picked up Om Varee’s glass of wine and took a sip. She walked over and handed it to him, “And? What’s that to us?”

  He took the glass and tasted the wine. He enjoyed the sweetness for a moment, then he answered, “Well, unfortunate, the small shuttle was shot down.”

  Mara’a’s eyebrows shot up, “Shar?”

  Om Varee hesitantly swallowed his sip of wine, trying to hold the taste in his memory and answered, “Is unfortunately lying on a slab downstairs, in the pit.”

  “Dead?”

  Om Varee nodded, “Very much so, I’m afraid.”

  “What about the other three? Daijj? Smarij? Zenj?”

  He shrugged, “That’s unknown at this time. The only report I received is that Shar is dead.”

  “The ghost soldiers?”

  “One dead, also on a slab. He was severely wounded when he arrived. Sebius didn’t see any reason to keep him alive, so he was vivisected. Three more were stripped of their uniforms and locked in cages. One of them is on the edge as well. He may not survive the night.”

  Mara’a studied Om Varee, “And you think the Dostori Rev is going to send the Dinshani to bring your head to her?”

  Om Varee extended his index finger on the hand holding the wine glass and pointed it Mara’a, “Exactly.”

  “I thought she trusted you?”

  He nodded, “I did as well, until she gave me my own security detachment of Dinshani assassins. I don’t think she’s in the mood for explanations or excuses. She’ll probably jump to the wrong conclusion, or, in this case, the correct one, though probably not for the right reasons, and send the assassins to express her dissatisfaction with my performance.”

  “Are you sure?” Mara’a asked again.

  He nodded, “I’m fairly certain. I’ve been cut out of the decision-making process. She’s compartmentalized intelligence and operational proceedings from me. It all points to her not trusting me. And, since I told her that Shar had been killed at the Turinzoni compound, she’s probably even less likely to trust me.”

  “But, you told her that the Lord Caon had reported that,” Mara’a pointed out.

  “True, I did, and that may save us, give us some plausible deniability. However, for me to discern what her intentions are, I would have to go to her and feel them out.”

  Mara’a pinched her lower lip as she contemplated this, “Which would take you from us, decreasing our capability to protect you, and possibly cutting you off from a secure escape route.”

  Om Varee sipped at his wine, “And, you see my dilemma.”

  Mara’ sighed, “Yes, unfortunately, I do.”

  The iron in Mara’a’s posture and the ice in her expression disappeared, and she leaned in to put her arms around Om Varee, hugging him tight enough to make his breath rush out.

  “You don’t trust her anymore, do you?”

  He shook his head, “Well, I never have, but I’ve been able to divert her more murderous intentions away from me. But now . . . no, I don’t. I’m fairly certain, that if I get separated from you and Jhani, they will kill me and then come after you. If it was just me, I might risk it. But I’ll not risk you. So, it’s probably better if we stay together and present a united front.”

  Mara’a looked up into his eyes and gave him a soft kiss on his lips, her eyes tearing slightly with the unexpected pronouncement of his affection for her and Jhani. She wrapped her hand around around his and the glass of wine, taking a sip. She swallowed and told him, “Well, then, I have to agree with your assessment. I say we stay together and face whatever comes. And if they do come for you, I guess we’re just going to have to dissuade them from their chosen course of action, explaining that it is ill conceived.”

  He gave up his wine to Mara’a, who took another sip. Jhani spoke, “Well, I, for one, am very happy with the way things have turned out. I hate that bitch, and its time we give her back some of the pain that she’s given to others over the years.”

  Om Varee looked over at Jhani and grinned. She slid two long knives, her favorite way of expressing her displeasure to others, out of their scabbards, “Too much?” Then she used the hilt of one of the knives to clink against her rifle, “Or not enough?”

  His grin grew wider, “Perfection. But, in this case, not needed. I have other plans.”

  Jhani’s eyebrow shot up, “I was hoping for something more . . . intimate.”

  Mara’a rolled her eyes as she sipped her wine and Om Varee shook his head, “Now is not the time for intimate. I have a rather larger, more definitive statement to make. I want to anger her so that she’s distracted. If she’s distracted she might make mistakes that we can leverage.”

  “And you’re going to do this how, Varee?” Mara’a asked.

  Om Varee shrugged, with a hint of a smile on his face, “You’ll just have to wait and see, Mara’a, my love. It’s a surprise.”

  He put his hand on her cheek and leaned in for a kiss. He gave her a kiss on her lips, and she returned it, her lips sweet from the wine. He sighed and leaned back. Then he noticed the display on his computer change. The monitors blinked off, and then came right back on.

  He stared at the screen and spoke to Mara’a and Jhani, “I think it’s time for us to leave.”

  Mara’a looked at the computer, “What happened?”

  “The cameras shut off for a moment while you two were smooching,” Jhani answered mischievously, grinning.

  Mara’a smiled at Om Varee, “You’re a sly boy. You overrode her override.”

  Om Varee wagged his hand back and forth, “Somewhat. The software was already working in the background. They’ll never find the parallel software feeding me information.”

  The monitors showed hallways filled with Dinshani assassins. They were taking no chances, in full armor with rifles. There were at least four teams of four assassins.

  “Okay, let’s grab our stuff and get out of here. They’ll breach the door and be inside in about ten minutes. That gives us time to get out of here.”

  Quickly, the three of them grabbed the essentials. Om Varee picked up his computer and shut it down, stowing it in his day pack. He slung the day pack over his shoulder and walked to the back of the hallway at the back the apartment. He used a hand-held computer to ensure their escape route hadn’t been compromised. Once he was satisfied with what he was looking at, he used an electronic switch to open the door. The door opened onto a tightly curved spiral staircase set behind it.

  Jhani led the way with Om Varee in the middle and Mara’a pulling rear security. As they walked into the stairwell, Mara’a pulled the door shut behind her and locked it. It would take a long time to breach that door, if they ever found it.

  Jhani was taking the stairs at a normal pace, which wasn’t fast enough for Om Varee’s surprise. “Jhani, you need to move faster,” Om Varee told her.

  She glanced over her shoulder, “Why?”

  Om Varee sighed. He loved his wives, but they had to move quickly. “Because I told you to. We need to get out of the area quickly. I left a little something for the Dinshani in the apartment.”

  Jhani moued at him, but she picked up the pace. Heading down the stairs, with gravity on their side, they made good time. Another forty stories and they’d be below the Tower. Then they could disappear into the sewers that ran underneath the city. Suddenly, the tower swayed violently. Om Varee’s hand flew out to steady himself as the tower shook, dust flying from the steps, the narrow confines of the spiral stair case concentrating it so that they sneezed and coughed.

  “What the hell was that!” Mara’a exclaimed.

>   Om Varee turned his head back toward her as they continued their walk straight down, “I believe that means they’ve breached into our apartment. That was the surprise I had for the Dinshani.”

  Jhani didn’t look back, “That was a lot of explosives.”

  “Yes, it was. It was in the walls of the apartment,” Om Varee explained.

  “Are you kidding me?” Mara’a asked, incredulous, “How long has it been there?”

  “As long as we’ve lived there.”

  “You had explosives built into the walls?”

  Om Varee nodded, “Of course. We needed something to keep them from finding our little escape route.”

  Mara’a continued, “How will explosives keep them from finding this stairwell? I’d think that explosives would expose it!”

  “Oh, eventually they’ll find it. But they have to clear the dead bodies and debris away first.”

  “And how do you know that the floors above won’t just collapse on top of us?” she asked.

  He waved her concerns away with a flip of his hand, “I did the engineering. I made sure that none of the structural supports would be harmed. The explosions were just big enough to send thousands of ceramic balls flying through the apartment. Anything that was in there was shredded.”

  Mara’a was upset, “You had thousands of ceramic balls with explosives arou . . .”

  “Behind. The explosives were behind the ceramic balls,” He cut her off to explain.

  Mara’a corrected herself, “Thousands of ceramic balls with explosives behind them, in the walls. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Would you have worried about it if you knew?” he asked.

  “Of course!” she answered.

  “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  Mara’a stared daggers at the back of Om Varee’s head as they descended.

  ----------------------------------------------------

  Chapter Two

  Mike felt water run down his leg and he could hear the sound of water falling on a hard surface. Slowly, reality set in, and he remembered where he was. He opened his eyes just as the stream of water stopped. Course laughter announced his Turinzoni tormentor, and Mike watched the grey man button up his trousers.