Survivors - Jean Lorrah [72]
When he turned, she was so close that he looked into her face, not down at the hand she kept carefully out of his line of sight.
“There was a time,” she continued, holding his eyes with hers, “when, to me, Starfleet meant Darryl Adin. When you betrayed Starfleet, what did you expect me to do-run away and become an outlaw? Or just pine away and die of love like the heroine of some opera?”
On the last words of her speech she swung. He wasn’t expecting it-not as the tag to her series of questions. Even Dare’s reflexes were not fast enough to block such an unexpected blow.
Years of experience told her how to knock him unconscious without serious injury.
Before his body hit the floor, she was gone.
Yar darted down the corridor the way they had come, but instead of taking the stairs back up to the gallery suite she scurried down a hallway toward the back of the castle. There was no escape via the chasm in front-not without mountain climbing equipment.
She heard no alarms, nor were there footsteps behind her.
She didn’t question her luck, but sped past the kitchens, from which delicious aromas drifted, then up a ramp that wound several times at a shallow angle-apparently the means by which heavy provision carts were taken down to the kitchens. That augured well for coming out into the courtyard.
By the time she reached the top of the ramp, Yar was panting. The thick double doors were barred from the inside; she wished for Data’s strength as she shoved at the heavy wooden bar, bruising her shoulder using leverage against the doorframe before she finally slid it out of place.
Peering out into brilliant sunshine, she looked all around the courtyard … and saw nobody.
Still no alarm. Dammit, she knew her job! Dare should have been unconscious for no more than thirty seconds, groggy for perhaps a minute after that. By this time there ought to be people searching for her.
She was tempted to go back, to see if she had hurt him more than she intended. Or if he had injured himself on impact with the stone floor—
But her duty was to escape; Starfleet had not sent her to Treva to be captured by outlaws! Data must be suspicious about her absence by now, and possibly a good portion of Nalavia’s army was out looking for her.
Keeping to the shadows, she crept farther out into the courtyard. No one, absolutely no one, was there.
Shivers ran up her spine. This was wrong.
There was nothing to do but keep going until she encountered the trap surely set for her, and hope she could escape once she tripped it.
She scuttled from the shadow of one outbuilding to another until she came to one with the tracks of wheels before it. Groundcars-maybe flyers. Surely she would set off an alarm if she tried to steal a vehicle, perhaps just if she opened the door. The answer was speed.
The door lock was a simple one any Starfleet Security trainee could open. Yar sprang it, darted inside—
There were three vehicles: a groundcar, a flyer … and the Starfleet shuttle she and Data had flown to Treva!
Dare had always been a class act. His people had not only kidnapped her, but carried her away in her own shuttle.
She took no time to consider the implications. The door opened to her ID code, she climbed in, and the lights came on.
“What took you so long, Tasha?”
In the pilot’s position sat Darryl Adin.
Too bitterly furious at herself to answer, she sat down in the co-pilot’s seat, turning the chair toward him as she tried to collect herself.
He gave her that sardonic twist of his lips that had replaced his once-sweet smile. “You don’t have the edge over me anymore, little kitten.”
“What?”
“You’ve forgotten what it’s like to have no one to rely on but yourself, whilst danger lurks at every turn. To trust no one.”
“Dare-“
“Don’t apologize.”
“I wasn’t going to. It’s my duty to escape, Dare.”
“I know. That’s why I had to show you it’s impossible.”
“You set me up!”
He inclined his head, as if acknowledging a compliment. “For what it’s worth, you did catch me off guard-I was preparing to set you up a few moments later.