Delivery (Star Line Express Romance Book 3) Read online

  Bad enough that I know how far Lasson’s support of the rebels goes. Even Chlo has no clue that Lasson’s been working on this for months. Nik doesn’t know anything either, although he passes me a look that says, There’s something you’re not telling me, you bastard. So I gather he has an idea.

  I know only because of one drunken night Lasson and I spent together after the Marinax made a delivery on Gadnon—may I never set foot on that dreadful, disgusting world again—and the two of us could expunge our experience there only by drowning it in cheap booze. The good stuff would’ve left us too coherent, and that wasn’t what we were after.

  About two thirds of the way into our drunk, Lasson started telling me about how he, his sister, Kaera, her life mate, Fitch, and a few others on Choryn had been secretly financing and supplying the Engra revolutionaries for the last few months.

  Lasson was planning to use his meeting with the Engra officials about a comm deal as a cover for getting time to talk with the rebels in person.

  And of course he was going to work on getting Chlo’s medical credentials restored. Although after the royals are defeated and the rebels take over, Chlo will no longer have such difficulties.

  Yet we don’t know what’s happening out there right now. All we know is what the newsfeed said—that martial law is in effect. Is this because the royal troops are defeating the rebels? Or because they’re losing to them?

  My instinct is to fly at speed to the palace, swoop around a few times to scope the place out, and then perhaps use the spark ray cannons that are hidden in the belly of the transport raft to help out when and where I can.

  But I can’t do this. Our friends’ lives are at stake here, not just the Engra revolution, and I don’t want to fuck up either. So I fly a circuitous route, helped along by an occasional comm from Ozker, who’s monitoring the airspace around the palace for me.

  “You’re going the wrong way,” Niya says.

  “Have to,” I say.

  “Okay,” she says.

  The three of us are quiet for a while as we make our way much much much too slowly to the prison and palace.

  “What are you going to name your daughter?” Niya says to Nik.

  “Haven’t decided yet,” Nik says. “We were both sure it was going to be a boy, so we didn’t have any names picked out.”

  “Easy to name a boy,” I say. “Joston.”

  “Shut up,” Niya says. “That’s not funny at all.” Yet Nik and I are both laughing.

  “Yeah,” Nik says. “That’s exactly the name we had picked out. Aymee really loves it.”

  Now Niya starts laughing too, and the tension that’s killing all three of us breaks up a bit.

  But just as quickly as it dissipated, it’s back again, in full force. Because now, in the distance, all of us see the flash of cannons from the palace grounds. Only, unlike last night when the fire was sporadic, this is constant.

  Niya

  There’s a war going on at the palace. Not just a skirmish or a small fight. An all-out war. No wonder they declared martial law—the government wants everyone who could possibly help out the rebels to stay at home so they can have a chance.

  But from what I’m seeing, the government doesn’t have a chance. They’re surrounded, and if what I’m seeing is right, the rebels have an impressive artillery.

  “Where did they get all those arms?” I say, almost to myself. It’s a rhetorical question.

  “Ahem,” Nik says. “Speak up, Lieutenant Lynar.”

  “So I’m a lieutenant now, am I?” Joston says. I look up from the nav controls to see him smiling.

  “Battlefield commission,” Nik says. “Might not stick.”

  “Fuck that,” Joston says.

  “Do you know something?” I say to Joston.

  “I might,” he says, “but I can’t say anything about it. Not until Chlo and Lasson are safely back on the Marinax and we’re out of Engra’s sector.”

  “Spill it. That’s an order, Lieutenant,” First Officer Arca says.

  “You can demote me right now, because I’m not answering,” Joston says.

  If I didn’t love this reckless pilot before, I just fell in love with him forever. There’s nothing more appealing to me than someone who will do what’s right, no matter what.

  That’s why I love Chlo so much. She’s the same way.

  Aeryen is like that as well. And maybe I am a little too.

  “Yeah, good,” Joston says, talking into his comm. Then he turns to Nik and looks back at me for a moment. “Friends, the rebels are blowing the east wall of the prison in five minutes. So our plans have to change again.”

  “Is that where Lasson and Chlo are?” I say.

  “Most likely, it is,” Joston says. “According to my sources. But we can’t be certain.”

  “I liked the plan where I went to visit them and we escaped,” I say.

  “Too bad,” Nik says. “Not going to happen.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “Take over the controls, Nik,” Joston says as he climbs out of the pilot’s seat and edges past me, then moves to the back of the raft and drops down into the hold.

  “That damned Chorynean must think he just got a battlefield promotion to general,” Nik says, laughing, and I laugh too. Might as well. It’s possible we’re all going to be dead in a few minutes. No point spending them in fear or regret.

  “What do you think he knows that he’s not telling us?” I say while Joston’s gone.

  “I’m guessing Lasson is involved with the rebels—more involved than anything we might suspect. Maybe he’s funding them or supplying them—or both.”

  “Chlo never said anything about that.”

  “He wouldn’t tell her,” Nik says. “It’d put her in too much danger. Just like it’d put you and me in too much danger right now. Better we don’t know.”

  “But you suspect.”

  “I do,” Nik says. “Lasson has a strong desire to make everything perfect on Engra so Chlo will be able to return here whenever she wants. And getting rid of the monarchy is a big step in that direction.”

  “I was so happy when I learned that Chlo had mated with Lasson. I knew she loves him, but I had no idea he felt so deeply about her.”

  “There’s something about Choryneans, I think,” Nik says. “Chlo and I are both mated to one. And I think you may have noticed it yourself. Because you and Joston—”

  Nik shuts up when Joston returns. His hair’s tousled and there’re grease stains on his hands, which he rubs off onto his pants.

  “Gossiping behind my back, were you?” Joston says as he takes over the controls again.

  “I’ll gossip right in front of you, General Lynar,” Nik says.

  “That’s a much better rank,” Joston says. “I’ll be expecting a hefty pay increase.”

  Then he does a maneuver with the raft that I hope he never does again—at least not with me inside it. Because I’m about to lose what little I ate for breakfast.

  “Brace yourself,” Joston says just a little too late, but I do anyway.

  “The spark ray cannons?” Nik says.

  “You’re damn right,” Joston says. “Hold on, everyone.”

  If I didn’t know that Joston was such a superior pilot—the landing he made at the airfield was the most daring, most impressive, most difficult landing I’ve ever seen in the entire time I’ve worked there—I’d be terrified.

  Because we’re now flying so low we might as well be on the ground in an s-car.

  “Don’t worry, Niya,” Joston says as he swoops down farther still. “I used to be an aircar pilot. This is easy.”

  “You are forbidden to ever teach this maneuver to Aeryen,” I say, trying to keep the mood light, but also laying down the law.

  “Ah, that’s not until lesson five,” Joston says as he unleashes the spark ray cannons on the palace troops just below us. I can see their faces—we’re that close. And I can see them fall. Even though they’re the enemy, m
y heart sinks.

  “Knockout, not kill,” Joston says, reassuring us that we’re not in the business of murder.

  “You have to love a good revolution,” Nik says.

  “Especially one you can win,” Joston says as he swerves around the palace, strafing the troops below us.

  A tremendous explosion at the prison sends a shockwave through the raft, and I stand up in order to get a better view of the collapsing wall just below us.

  “Sit!” Joston says.

  No time for niceties.

  I sit.

  But that doesn’t make the landing any less bone-jarringly dramatic.

  Yet when I see my dear friend Chlo running toward us, I forget everything else.

  Because our rescue is working.

  Chapter 25

  Joston

  I look at Chlo, who’s racing toward us, then I look over at Nik, who knows the same thing I do—there’s no fuel left.

  Aymee and Niya left the Marinax without checking the fuel levels in their transport raft. How two such brilliant . . . but I don’t have time to think about this, and, anyway, it’s a mistake any pilot might make, especially in the heat of the moment.

  In fact, it’s a mistake I just made.

  “Chlo!” Niya says. She lifts the lid and waves to her friend, who looks ragged and exhausted, like she’s just spent the night in a prison. Which she has.

  But . . . Chlo’s alone.

  “Where’s Lasson?” Nik says to me, and I shake my head. I have no more information about Lasson than he does. Wilm’s been feeding me only battle coordinates and timing on the prison wall blast.

  “Get out,” I say to Niya, ordering her around like she’s my subordinate. But we have no time to mess about. We’re in the middle of a war zone. And our transport is useless. That is, this transport is useless. There’s another one on the roof of the palace, and it’s got plenty of fuel in it—or it did when we left it there. When it was still definitely intact.

  Niya, anxious to see her friend, jumps out and meets Chlo halfway.

  The air’s filled with smoke and dust from the explosion. It’s nighttime during the day, which is helpful to us, especially to me. And it’ll be helpful to Lasson as well, assuming he’s alive, which is what I’m assuming.

  Nik and I check the weapons we brought onboard with us. Even though Niya’s not armed, we both are now. We climb out after her.

  “I don’t know where Lasson is,” Chlo is saying to Niya. “I haven’t seen him since last night.” The two friends are facing each other, holding hands.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “We’ll find him.”

  I know what everyone’s thinking—that, no matter what the circumstances, Choryneans just can’t resist a lie—but I am certain we’ll find Lasson.

  Because we have to.

  “Joston,” Niya says, “let’s get Chlo out of here. Nik can take her back to the airfield while you and I find Lasson. Then we’ll use the transport raft you left on the roof yesterday.”

  I shake my head. “Can’t be done.”

  “Why not?” Niya says.

  “There’s a slight problem of our having no fuel,” I say.

  “What do you mean?” Niya says.

  “He means the raft we came in has been running on hope for the last five minutes,” Nik says.

  “I wouldn’t go anyway,” Chlo says. “I’m not leaving here until we’ve got Lasson.”

  “Where do you think he is?” I ask Chlo, since she’s our leading expert on Engra’s prison system.

  “I have no idea,” she says. “It’s not like males and females are kept in separate areas. They’re not.”

  “Nothing on the instant comm?” Nik says.

  “Nothing,” Chlo says. “Silence. It’s been like that since last night.”

  “Let’s go in,” I say. “It’s not like we have to get past any guards. An entire wall is gone.”

  The four of us make our way into the newly redecorated open-plan prison. Some of the cell doors are still closed, so Nik and I use our firepulses to blow out the locks, freeing who knows what horrible criminals, none of them stopping to thank us and all of them leaving at full speed.

  “There hasn’t been a violent crime on Engra in centuries,” Niya says to me. “Don’t worry.”

  But I’m not worried. My only concern is finding Lasson and getting him out of here. Getting us out of here. Although I’ll come back. The rebels need help. And I’m finding the revolution more and more irresistible. Much more exciting than working for the Star Line Express. More suited to my abilities. My inclinations.

  We get to the end of the third hallway, and Chlo says, “Guys, I think that’s it.”

  “Not a very big prison for your strict law-and-order culture,” I say to Niya. I’d been expecting something about fifty times this size.

  “Engra doesn’t need many prison cells,” Niya says. “There’re very few petty criminals, and the big crimes are punishable by immediate exile or execution.”

  “Chlo, where do you think the most likely place for Lasson would be?” Nik says, getting us back on point.

  “I hate to think it,” Chlo says, “but . . .”

  “He’s with the king,” I say. “My friend just commed me. They’re holding Lasson hostage and demanding the rebels disarm.”

  “No,” Chlo says. “They can’t be.”

  But they are. And what I don’t say is that Wilm told me they’re demanding the rebels stop their attack within the next fifteen minutes or Lasson’s done for.

  “They mean to kill him, don’t they?” Niya says, reading my mind.

  “We’ll get to him before that happens,” Nik says.

  “You’re damn right we will,” Chlo says. “Or die trying.”

  “Chlo, you are not getting anywhere near the king’s private chambers,” I say. “They’ll execute you on sight.”

  “That’s where they are?” Niya says.

  “Yes,” I say. “That’s what I’ve been told.” By Wilm.

  “Excellent,” Niya says. “Follow me.”

  Niya

  As bad as this all looks—with Lasson being held by the king and not just Lasson’s life but the entire revolution in jeopardy, we’ve been handed a huge piece of good luck. Because, as a flight controller—as the flight controller who was on duty the day of this unusual occurrence three years ago—I happen to know something that hardly anyone else knows. The king himself, who took over just last year, may not know.

  But I still haven’t figured out how to get onto the roof without walking up the interior staircase, which must be heavily guarded today.

  “Joston,” I say as casually as I can, even though I feel like shouting. “Remember our plan to get to the transport raft on the roof?”

  “Yes,” he says. He’s shifting back and forth from foot to foot. He can’t bear just standing here. None of us can. “The plan you had no actual plan for?” He’s trying hard not to sneer.

  “Yes,” I say. “That one. But you had that plan too. How were you going to get to the roof?”

  “There’s scaffolding on the north wall,” Joston says. “I was going to scale it.”

  “Let’s go,” I say. But I can’t lead the group. It’s too dark here from the smoke and dust and I don’t have a torch. Joston takes the lead.

  “What are we going to do on the roof?” Nik says.

  “You’ll see,” I say, unable to say much more. My chest is filling with smoke and ash and I’m having a harder and harder time breathing, much less talking.

  I see Joston listening on his comm, nodding. The rebel leader must be giving him directions—which areas are the safest, or the least dangerous.

  We get to the north wall in minutes, but when I look up the scaffolding, my heart sinks. There’s no way we can scale this. The lowest level is too far from the ground.

  “Damn,” I say, staring at the impossible. “What now?”

  “Ready?” Joston says to Nik, who gives a wink and a nod and puts dow
n his laced-together hands, which Joston steps into it.

  The two of them look like a circus act as Nik, grunting, lifts Joston onto his shoulders. Yet Joston is still not close enough to grab on to the lowest crossbar of the scaffold.

  “Big breakfast, hunh?” Nik says, smiling beneath a grimace. Nik’s a big man, but Joston is no lightweight. He’s slim, but very muscular. Nik can’t be having an easy time of it.

  “Okay,” Joston says, looking down from Nik’s shoulders. “Three . . . two . . .”

  Without waiting for one, Joston pushes off Nik’s shoulders, like he would a trampoline—except Nik is hardly a trampoline—and vaults himself into the air while Chlo and I gasp in horror.

  But Joston barely catches one hand on the lowest rung of the scaffold while Nik says, “I don’t know what you two were so worried about. Joston and I have been practicing this for weeks.”

  “Like hell you have,” Chlo says as Joston pulls himself up to the bottommost platform and lowers the rope ladder that was lying there, out of reach.

  “You first,” Joston says, pointing to me, and I climb up the swaying—and, sadly, fraying—ladder. It stays together for Chlo, and we all hold our breath as the fast-disintegrating rope falls apart with each step Nik takes. But Nik makes it too.

  Now the climb’s easy—as long as I don’t look down—although the smoke and debris in the air are worse the higher we climb. There’s a good side to that, though, since there’s no one on the roof but us.

  “Where to?” Joston says, heading for the transport raft he somehow had the guts and skill to land here yesterday.

  “Not there,” I say. “Over here.”

  I point down at an innocuous-seeming crease in the roofline.

  “What have we got here?” Nik says.

  “A secret trapdoor,” I say. “It’s just over the main royal chamber, which I think is where Lasson is. The royals used it three years ago when they thought the rebels had breached the palace walls.”

  “How do you know about this?” Chlo says.

  “I was in the control room that day, and they had four aircars sent over to pick them up, and they had to give the coordinates so they could land.”