Captivate (Manipulate, Book 2)

Chapter 4

Every step away from the shuttle made Claire feel more naked and exposed. The sky was coming overcast, with black clouds scudding in, turning the airfield dark, even though it couldn’t be later than mid-afternoon. The cold wind cut though her simple tunic and froze her bare legs.

Ground-cars zipped around her at breakneck speeds and burly aliens, mainly Merith and Spo, unloaded crates, pallets, and huge pods from the incoming ships. Every time a Merith looked at her, Claire’s heart hammered and she fought the urge to run. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself by looking panicked, but it was all she could do to keep a calm pace.

Her thoughts went around in circles, and her head pounded with every beat of her heart. If Faal had taken one of his own shuttles, he could already be here. Well, actually, she'd injured him with the tree, so probably he wouldn't be here, but he'd surely send his security detail to claim her, and probably the zookeeper too.

Claire whipped her head around, certain she’d caught a glimpse of a Merith following her in yellow. All Faal’s security guys, elite members of his private militia, wore yellow.

She didn’t see anyone now, perhaps it’d been a reflection...

Claire picked up her pace, checking over her shoulder for anyone trying to shadow her. The Diarena’s ship was on the far side, still several hundred yards away.

Claire shivered and her eyes filled with tears. She was probably the only human on this whole planet. If that ship wouldn’t take her, there was no one she could ask for help. The feeling of being hunted grew stronger and stronger. She kept walking, trying to keep a lookout in all directions, but she also had the perverse desire to end the suspense and wave her arms and yell, “Here I am, already!”

“Stop it,” Claire told herself firmly. “You will not give up now.” She had made it this far. She would make it off this planet.

Flash of yellow. No mistaking it.

Claire dodged between two speeding ground-cars, and took off in a dead run. That was definitely a uniform on one of Faal’s people. Claire ducked behind a towering crate and waited until the yellow-suited guard passed. She knew there were more, and the longer she stayed on this airfield, the more danger she would be in.

Claire didn’t try to hide now, she just ran as fast as she could toward the large ship.

The airfield seemed to be laid out in rows of circles, with pads for six or seven ships grouped around a central elevator shaft that must lower into an underground complex beneath the air field.

A few drops of rain fell on her exposed head, and burned her scalp. Claire glanced up. Dark clouds were now layered above her. Did this planet have an acidic water cycle? If the atmosphere was breathable, the water should be basically water, but...

Another drop spattered onto her bare neck, and again there was a slight burn.

A terrible stitch was forming in her side and she gasped for air. She hadn’t run this far in three years. Nearby Claire heard a shout, but she didn’t stop to look. She was nearly there.

The cruiser Final Say loomed in front of her now, as big as a skyscraper lying on its side. The bulk of the cruiser rested on a double row of squat antigravity generators, giving it the strange appearance of a giant egg-carton. She had to get on that ship.

Claire made it to the rear ramp and risked a quick look behind her. She was surprised to see no yellow suited guards. Had she lost them? Had she imagined it?

The ramp was wide, easily big enough for four lanes of traffic, and opened into a huge loading bay, as big as a warehouse, equipped with two banked shuttles. At least a hundred crew bustled about, preparing for departure. Walking up the ramp, Claire felt exposed. There was no where to hide and the cold wind whistled around and under her.