Kidnapped (29 page)

They went to the docking bays, and Travis told Patricia to stand guard while he broke into the computer. Given her experiences with Aaren, she might have been better suited to do it, but having her do his dirty work felt wrong. He intended to steal a ship, and if at all possible make a quick getaway. It only took a couple of minutes before he returned, rolling his eyes. "We won't be going anywhere today, babe. There's nothing worth taking."

All the ships Patricia might possibly approve of stealing, that was, the ones belonging to or at least working for the Alliance in one way or the other, were too slow. She'd have the baby long before they reached Earth, and he was worried enough about her as it was.

It wasn't that there weren't ships available. If he had been alone he would just have snatched one of the luxurious yachts or why not reliable cargo ships that were docked there, but he knew she would ask. He wouldn't be able to lie, and he wasn't even going to begin to get into a discussion with her about stealing from normal people, not if it wasn't absolutely necessary for her survival. He was surprised she went along with the plan as it was, but he supposed she'd had enough time to develop a grudge with the Alliance to accept taking something associated with them.

Patricia wanted to go back to Malcolm, but Travis shook his head. "No, people are looking for us, and the less contact he has with us the better. You don't want him to get into trouble for helping us, do you?"

He felt bad for telling her so bluntly, but it worked. She followed him to a hotel without arguing.

They went through the same procedure four days in a row, at different computer terminals each time, and then something caught Travis's eye, making him mumble to himself, "That's perfect." He skimmed the information, and felt a cold hand clutch his heart when he realized the one person they couldn't afford to be seen by might be walking through the door right behind Patricia at any moment.

There wasn't any time to waste, and he was back at her side with two long strides, grabbing her hand and pulling her with him through the corridor. Not quite running, that would catch too much attention, but close to it. She followed him, but objected, "What is it," and he answered without turning around, "We've got to hurry."

His eyes were darting around, but he didn't find anything good. They wouldn't be able to get away in time, and they needed a place to hide. He slowed down a little when they reached the first row of stores, and then his eyes fell on something that felt just right. Books weren't common out here; most people didn't bother with it when there were holonovels and computers, but just ahead of them a large store was dedicated to the books from G'dau. The place had big windows, but they were filled with large displays and bright lights, and it was very difficult to see inside.

Entering a store was a risk in itself. There might not be any more exits and they might become trapped inside, but it was the best he could think of. He paused, but just for a second; standing still was more dangerous than moving. Patricia looked about to start asking questions again, so he wrapped his arm around her, and led her with him towards the door, whispering, "I've found us our ride. I think we'll get to see an old friend..."

Once inside, he pretended to know exactly what he was looking for, bringing her far enough inside to feel fairly safe, but still being able to look out through the windows. He had to be able to see their enemies, to see what they were doing.

Grabbing a random book, he gave it a quick glance, saw that it seemed to be an adventure novel, and shoved it in her hands for camouflage, thinking they should at least pretend to be looking. He finally forced himself to relax a little. He was standing behind her, put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed them gently.

Doing so hurt, but he didn't really care. The last few days had been the first time in years he'd felt anything with his right hand, and the sensations of the soft fabric in her dress and her warm skin were almost intoxicating.

*****

Patricia looked at the book in her hands. Holding it felt unfamiliar. She could remember these being everyday objects, but now she hadn't even seen one for so long it felt like a novelty. If the situation hadn't been so grim, she would have loved to look around in the store. They stood in the shadows deep inside the room, peeking out through the large window, surrounded by the dry smell of paper and bound books.

It only took a couple of seconds before the first Alliance officers marched by; they had gotten away in the nick of time. Patricia stared, and a voice behind them asked, awestruck, "Is that the Supreme Commander?"

Patricia prayed the other woman wouldn't turn her head. It shouldn't be possible for her to see them, but she knew the woman had uncanny instincts, and, even if most people might not recognize them anymore, Veronica would.

Travis had stopped rubbing her shoulders and she glanced up at him. He was looking back, at a young man coming out from an office, gawking at the windows. Her husband was measuring the stranger with his eyes, and answered evenly, "I wouldn't know."

The immediate problem was outside, and Patricia returned her attention to the window. Veronica didn't look good. She still had visible bandages and nanogel, and Patricia almost felt sorry for her. She must have been terribly hurt in the explosion, stranded all alone on an alien world, but then she steeled herself. This had happened to the woman when trying to kill them, when setting off an explosive charge that would have been in Travis's arm. When she reminded herself of what he'd had to do to himself because of her, most of the sympathy for his former superior disappeared.

The young man was coming up to them, on the verge of babbling, "You know about Commander Travis, right? I've heard he did that to her. They say he rebelled together with a girl, and the Supreme Commander tried to kill them."

Travis flashed a smile, "Really," and their new friend kept talking, somehow encouraged. "Yes, and hear this, the Alliance had him, he was in a cell, and they were going to execute him, but he somehow talked his way out of it, and he has these really big scars all over, right, and only one arm, but they say he still has the prettiest girl you ever saw. They're having a baby too."

Patricia bit her lip, wondering if this was really what people said about them. She commented honestly, "Wow, he sounds like quite a guy!" and the clerk sighed, "Yeah, imagine meeting someone like that."

Travis smirked and glanced at his new hand. The young man continued, completely unaware of who he was talking to, "Hey, if the Supreme Commander is here, they might be here too, she might still be chasing them. Some people say he's dead, that his ship just exploded, or got destroyed by the rebels, but I don't believe it."

The entourage had passed before he stopped talking, and Travis asked lightly, "Did you want a book, Sweetheart?"

Patricia nodded, and looked at the one she was already holding. "I think we'll take this one."

As they went to pay for it, the clerk noticed her abdomen for the first time. She was the first pregnant woman anyone on the station had seen for years. The light fell on the remains of Travis's scars, and when the young man stared, he grinned wolfishly.

Patricia said in a relaxed and pleasant voice, "It was very nice to talk to you. You have yourself a really nice day."

Travis winked at the clerk and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and the young man stared after them, awestruck and hopefully not certain of what to think.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

They walked back towards the docks hand in hand, trying to look inconspicuous, and when they heard approaching footsteps, Patricia mumbled, "Kiss me."

He did, bending over her and turning around, so the person approaching only saw his back and hair, and even though the passing guard shouted a comment to them, he didn't stop or pay any closer attention. To Patricia, the danger somehow made the kiss even sweeter, and she held on to him even when the soldier was way past them.

Once they reached the hangar, Travis whispered, "It might be a trap, be prepared, okay."

She nodded. She couldn't remember a time when she wasn't prepared anymore. It felt like she'd been on her toes constantly since they left Earth over a year earlier. Walking towards a window, he mumbled, "It's the small white ship out there, that's what we're taking."

At first, she didn't see it. She was looking for something the size his ship had been, but then her eyes found the only white craft docked to the station. It was small and sleek and reminded her more of a large needle than of a starship.

She told herself she shouldn't have expected Veronica to bring the entire station every time she wanted to go somewhere, but whatever she might have imagined, this beautiful object wasn't it. It seemed much too pretty to be made by the people in charge out here.

Her husband looked at her with an undecipherable expression on his face, and said quietly, "Come on, Sweetheart."

There were two guards posted outside the airlock, staring straight ahead, and Patricia couldn't help but wonder how their backs could be so straight, if they were thinking about anything, and how many times he might have been standing like that. She visualized herself distracting them, like people did on TV back home. Maybe she could stagger forward and pretend to be having a miscarriage or something, but Travis was very firm when he answered, "Absolutely not, they'll just shoot you."

Things here sure weren't like back home, and it was all too easy to forget that.

Before she realized what he was up to, Travis had started down the corridor, approaching the two with a friendly smile, pretending to be a lost drunk. She quirked her eyebrow. "
That's
your plan?"

Standing around the corner, trying not to be seen, and watching him approach them like that was gruesome to her. Both guards spun around and trailed their rifles on him, and Patricia slapped her hands over her mouth to keep a whimper from escaping her. She was certain she had just talked to her husband for the last time. She wished she'd told him she loved him.

As usual, she underestimated him, as did the guards. They let him get just a little too close, and even though she could see the end result, she didn't understand how it happened. All of a sudden, one man fell to the floor with his neck broken, the other was shot, and Travis held both their rifles in addition to the small weapon he'd given her a couple of days earlier. He was coming back to fetch her, saying apologetically, "I'm so sorry you had to see that, Baby Doll, I hope you won't hate me for it."

She didn't know what to say. He was already leading her forward, over one of the bodies even, and she stuttered, "How... I don't... How did you do that?"

He made a grimace. "I guess I have a talent for killing people."

They were on the bridge within minutes, luckily not meeting anyone else when going through the ship, and Travis locked the door behind them, explaining as he hurriedly prepared for take-off, "I don't know who else, if anyone, might be on board. Let's deal with that when we're out of here."

Patricia took a seat, marvelling at how comfortable the chair was, and looked through the little bag she'd been carrying over her shoulder. It seemed like a pathetically small amount of things for them to get by on. Her husband had already started the engines and disconnected them from the station, and she asked quietly, "Are you sure about this? Won't every ship in the fleet be coming after us?"

There was something unnerving about his smile when he answered, "Sure, but they'll have to catch us. You might want to buckle up."

If there really were other people than them on the ship, they'd know something was wrong now, but they'd also be sprawled on the floor. She had never seen him fly like that. She hadn't even thought it
possible
to fly like that.

The ship hung on its side for a long moment, turned around in a bizarre way, and before she even had time to realize up and down were where they were supposed to be again, Travis were firing the ship's cannons, zigzagging and rolling between the Alliance ships docked to the base, destroying every one of them.

She mumbled, "Whoa," thinking there might have been people on them, maybe prisoners, and maybe innocent civilians. Seeing all those explosions made her shudder. It felt like something inside of her turned to ice, or maybe she was caught in a terrible nightmare and couldn't wake up.

There wasn't time to say anything. He was rolling the ship again, accelerating away from the station, and after just a couple of seconds, they were in the relative safety of hyperspace.

*****

Travis leaned back in the chair, sighed, and looked at her; he knew what she was thinking. He also knew if he hadn't done it, each and every one of those ships would be on their tail within minutes. There was a difference in their point of view. He counted the Alliance personnel as already dead. He had, after all, been one of them, and since he knew what would happen to any prisoners, he tended to view them as already dead as well.

Now wasn't the time to talk about it anyway. He pressed the little gun into her unwilling hand and said, as calmly as he could, "Lock the door behind me and do not open it. If anyone that's not me gets on the bridge anyway, shoot them."