The Disappeared Read online

“—This—is—wrong—” the Wygnin said.

  “We abide by your custom,” DeRicci snapped. “You can abide by ours.”

  The border patrol guard shot her a warning glance, but DeRicci didn’t seem to notice. The muscles in Flint’s shoulders tensed. He had no idea what the Wygnin would do if crossed.

  “—We—speak—to—leaders—” the Wygnin said.

  “As you should,” DeRicci said. “I don’t give orders. I just follow them. I have no choice in this matter either.”

  The border guard nodded once and Flint felt his shoulders relax. DeRicci had covered their asses, making the difficult situation someone else’s problem.

  Then, without saying a word to Flint, DeRicci and the border guard led the Wygnin away from the ship. Flint watched them go. He was amazed that something so beautiful could be so dangerous. He shouldn’t have been, he supposed. He had found space beautiful when he patrolled it, but a single mistake out there could kill.

  The entire terminal seemed to freeze while the Wygnin walked through. Everyone watched the aliens go by, but no one approached them and no one challenged them. And Flint found that odd in and of itself.

  When he’d worked down here, he’d seen aliens subjected to all sorts of treatment, from fan-like adulation to complete and utter contempt. A few humans had even attacked aliens, spitting on them or throwing something at them or, in the case of the peace-loving Peyti, physically assaulting them.

  Sometimes Flint wondered if alien reactions to humans were as irrational, but he supposed he would never know—not really. What he saw were codified, legal reactions, in constrained circumstances like this one.

  The Wygnin had been gone for more than five minutes before the door to the border patrol ship opened. Flint suspected that had been planned. The border officer who had gone with DeRicci had probably sent some kind of signal to her compatriots, so that they wouldn’t bring the children out while the Wygnin were still here.

  Four border guards exited, backs straight, and weapons obvious, even from this distance. Border guards usually didn’t make a show out of their laser pistols and protective gear, but these guards were.

  They were as worried about the Wygnin as everyone else was.

  Then a woman came out of the ship. She was heavy-set, and her uniform was in disarray. She wasn’t wearing her jacket. The shirt that she wore beneath it was too tight, as were her uniform pants. Her hair was down, long enough to reach the middle of her back, which wasn’t regulation either. She wasn’t carrying a weapon.

  She stopped in front of the door, holding out one hand in a gesture of supplication. It took Flint a moment to realize she was trying to coax a child out. That was why she looked so casual. With all the weapons and uniforms about, her appearance was designed to calm the children.

  A small hand took hers, and then a boy ran out, slamming into her and clinging so hard that he nearly knocked her over. The boy was heavy-set too, with red hair so bright it seemed like the only spot of color in the entire terminal.

  Flint couldn’t judge the boy’s age from this distance, but he knew the child was too old to be that clingy. A normal child would have kept his distance.

  At least he wasn’t a baby. A half-grown child he could deal with. He wasn’t sure he could deal with a baby.

  Flint steeled himself, watching the door for more children. Instead, another border guard came out, this one male. He cradled something in his arms.

  Flint swallowed, and made himself watch the red-haired boy.

  The female border guard tried to disentangle the boy. When that failed, she walked with her hand around his back, letting him cling and move with her at the same time.

  The male border guard followed closely behind. Flint could see human skin now, a tiny hand clutching the guard’s arm.

  A young child, then. An infant.

  Flint felt his heart lurch. He took a deep breath, and reminded himself that this was his job. He was at work, and he had to remain calm. Detached. Mind and heart separated, just like they needed to be.

  When the female border guard reached the main door, she scanned the area until she saw Flint. He tapped his badge, illuminating it, and she nodded, coming forward.

  “Fala Valey,” she said. She hadn’t stated her rank, and Flint suspected that was on purpose. The boy, still clutching her, looked frightened enough.

  “Miles Flint.”

  “My orders are to give you custody of these children until the Wygnin claims are verified.” She sounded official, but her hand, still on boy’s back, rubbed it softly, as if she were comforting him while she spoke.

  “Yes,” Flint said.

  The male guard came out of the tunnel. Flint’s attention remained on the boy.

  He had to be about eight. His skin was so white as to seem chalk-like, a color that had become extremely rare. Right now, his features were blotchy and his eyes swollen. His nose was so chapped, it was peeling. This child had been crying for a long time.

  “This is Jasper,” Valey said. “He isn’t ready to tell us his last name yet, are you, Jasper?”

  The boy responded by hiding his face against her arm.

  “We don’t know how long he’s been with them,” she said, speaking more softly this time. “It’s got to be fairly recent. His clothing was manufactured here. But that’s all we got.”

  Flint nodded. “It’s a start.”

  “Who’s taking this child?” the male border guard asked.

  There was no way around it. Flint would have to deal with the baby.

  He stepped forward. “I am,” he said and looked at the baby for the first time.

  The baby was younger than Emmeline had been when she died. She’d been eighteen months old, a toddler with a gap-toothed smile, a child whose first and most favorite word had been “Daddy.”

  The old ache twisted his heart. She’d been dead more than ten years and he still couldn’t bear to think about her—even though he couldn’t stop.

  Her hair had been golden, like his. Not at all like this baby. This baby had a crest of black hair that curled against his dark skin. His eyes were closed, long lashes against his full cheeks. He didn’t look distressed at all. Either he was too young to know what happened to him, or he hadn’t been with the Wygnin long.

  “Here then,” the guard said, and handed the boy to Flint.

  He had forgotten how much babies weighed, how compact and muscular their small bodies were. This child was warm and smelled of talcum. Someone had changed him on the ship if, indeed, he was still wearing diapers.

  Flint ran a cautious hand over the boy’s head and closed his eyes, remembering the feel of a sleeping child in his arms. His daughter used to bring out the same feeling of tenderness, the same protectiveness. He had thought it died with her. He had thought—

  He shook the memory off. If he kept thinking about Emmeline, he wouldn’t be able to do this. He had to think of this boy in his arms as something separate, a problem to be solved.

  Not a baby. He couldn’t deal with a baby that had been taken by the Wygnin. The Wygnin took children to pay for their parents’ crimes, and the children never returned.

  There was silence around him. Flint looked away from the child in his arms. If he didn’t look at the baby, he could almost imagine it was Emmeline.

  He willed the thought away. Everyone was watching him. He cleared his throat. “Do we know this child’s name?”

  “We know nothing about this one,” the male border guard said.

  “How many more are there?”

  “Just these two,” Valey said.

  Good. Flint wasn’t sure he could take any more than that. He wasn’t sure he could take these.

  If the Wygnin had valid warrants, these children would go to Korsve. The infant in Flint’s arms would become something other than human. But Jasper—even though they’d try to turn him into a Wygnin, he was too old. He would be broken, something not human, not Wygnin.

  Flint would have to let it happen. In
fact, he would have to make it happen. It was his job, one he had lobbied for, one he had looked forward to.

  He’d known he might face moments like this.

  But knowing and experiencing were two different things.

  He had to keep this a puzzle, a job, something for his brain. His emotions would only get in the way.

  But the child in his arms—warm, alive and oh so very human— wasn’t touching his brain. The boy was cradled against his heart.

  Five

  Ekaterina waited until the pilot severed his link with the Rev before taking the two steps into the cockpit. She put her laser pistol against the pilot’s head.

  Jenny’s arms dropped and the co-pilot reached under his seat.

  “Try anything and your pilot dies,” Ekaterina said. “Now, you may not care about him, so let me tell you my plan. After I finish killing him, I’ll shoot up the controls so none of us can leave. Then I’ll lie to the Rev, telling them that you all were my partners, and you’d double-crossed me, which was why you were trying to sell me to them. That way, if they get me, they’ll get you too.”

  Her heart was pounding hard, but her hand was steady and so was her voice. She probably seemed calm on the outside. Her courtroom training was paying off in all sorts of ways. She hadn’t expected that her ability to bluff other lawyers would come out now.

  Jenny eased back into her seat. The co-pilot hadn’t changed positions.

  “Hands on your heads where I can see them,” Ekaterina said.

  Jenny put her hands on her head.

  “Do it,” Ekaterina said to the co-pilot. “Or do you want me to shoot you first?”

  His hands went to the top of his head.

  “How’d you get the gun in here?” Jenny asked. “We told you not to bring any personal items.”

  “I look at guns as impersonal,” Ekaterina said.

  The Rev ship hovered outside the portal. She knew they couldn’t see inside the ship, but she felt their presence all the same.

  She didn’t have much time.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said. “You’re going to contact the Rev and tell them there’s been a change of plan.”

  “Lady,” the pilot said. “I’m not crossing the Rev.”

  “Then you’ll die.” Ekaterina made her voice flat and matter-of-fact. Her negotiation voice, the kind she used when she was plea-bargaining with prosecutors.

  “Maybe you don’t understand,” the pilot said. “If I cross the Rev—”

  “Maybe you don’t understand,” Ekaterina said. “You’re planning to sell me to the Rev. There’s nothing worse than that as far as I’m concerned. You’ll do as I say and maybe you’ll have a chance to get out of this. That’s more than you were willing to give me.”

  Her hand shook with the force of her anger. She managed to steady herself, but Jenny saw the movement. The other woman’s eyes got large. Ekaterina’s momentary unsteadiness seemed to have frightened Jenny even more.

  The co-pilot was watching all of them, his entire body tense. So far so good.

  “Now,” Ekaterina said, speaking slowly as if she were talking to a young child. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You are going to contact the Rev. You’re going to tell them that you’ve gotten new orders. You need the yacht for another mission.”

  “Lady, we’ve never done it this way. They’ll know—”

  “You will tell them that you are going to eject me in one of the escape pods. All they have to do is pick it up, but they have to wait until the yacht has been gone for an hour before they do so.”

  “This won’t work,” the pilot said. “Even with an hour’s lead, the yacht can’t stay ahead of the Rev ships. Not on autopilot. They’ll be monitoring you. They’ll know exactly where you are and they’ll catch you. You’ll be doing this for nothing.”

  She was afraid of that. But she wasn’t going to let him see that he had tapped into one of her main fears.

  “You three will be in the pod when it’s ejected,” Ekaterina said. “Maybe you’ll be able to find a way to get the pod out of the area before the Rev pick you up.”

  “That won’t work.” Jenny’s voice was shaking. “We’ll be crossing them. You know what they’ll do.”

  “Actually,” Ekaterina said. “I do. The Rev pride themselves on their fairness. Blame me for your failure. It’ll be true enough. You’ll be victims, according to the Rev, and they probably won’t touch you.”

  “Probably?” The co-pilot spoke for the first time. His voice squeaked. What Ekaterina had taken for calm was extreme panic.

  “Probably,” Ekaterina said. “When you take a calculated gamble with the Rev you have to realize it is, after all, a gamble. Now, contact them. Remember. If you screw with me, I’m shooting you and declaring war on the Rev. None of us get out of here alive.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” the co-pilot said.

  “Just do what she wants,” Jenny said.

  The pilot tapped the communications array, and used the ship’s call letters to contact the Rev. Ekaterina made certain his fingers touched the audio-only buttons. Most ships didn’t used video imagery when communicating with alien vessels, but she wanted to make sure that the pilot wasn’t trying anything sneaky.

  “This had better be important.” The Rev didn’t even bother with a greeting.

  “It is,” the pilot said. “I just got a coded message from my headquarters. I need to keep the yacht.”

  “We have an agreement—”

  “Which I’m living up to. All I wanted to do was let you know that I’m dumping her into a pod. You can pick it up an hour after we’ve left the area. Is that clear?”

  “We’ll pick it up now,” the Rev said.

  Ekaterina felt a chill run down her back.

  “No!” The pilot sounded panicked. “There are other ships in the area. If they witness the exchange, then we’ll never be able to do this again.”

  The Rev didn’t respond immediately. Jenny shot the pilot a frightened look. The co-pilot whimpered.

  “We shall do so this one time,” the Rev said. “But this will not become policy, or our business is done.”

  “It’s not policy,” the pilot said. “It’s just a—”

  Ekaterina shoved the muzzle of the pistol against his skull.

  “—blip. Something went wrong at headquarters that they want the yacht for. I don’t have as much flexibility as usual.”

  “All right then,” the Rev said. “We shall follow your terms this time. But should you try this again, you will feel our wrath.”

  “Yeah,” the pilot said. “I know.”

  He signed off. Ekaterina let out a silent sigh of relief. The first part down. Now she had to get them to the pod.

  “Put your hands on your head,” she said to the pilot.

  “Look, you heard them,” he said. “They’re already suspicious. I lied to them. The Rev hate it when you lie to them. When they find us, I’ll make sure they know it was your fault. When they realize what happened, they’re going to come after you. You might not survive the day.”

  She didn’t answer him. She had a hunch dying was preferable to going to a Rev penal colony. At least she was going to try to get out of this. At least she had a chance.

  “Put your hands on your head,” she said. “I’m not telling you again.”

  He did. She caught a whiff of sweat mixed with fear. He was frightened too. Probably not of her, but of what would happen when the Rev opened that pod.

  Even though she knew Rev law pretty well, she wasn’t sure what they’d do. She’d lied about that. She might be costing these people their lives.

  But that was the trade-off. Theirs for hers. They were selling her, when they were supposed to be saving her. She couldn’t worry about them. Not right now.

  “Get up,” she said.

  They did. This was going to be the difficult part. She would have to keep them under her control and make sure none of them attacked her while getting them to the pod.


  She had no idea where the nearest pod was.

  The pilot was taller than she was. She took a step back and pointed the pistol at all three of them.

  “You’ve read my profile,” she said, hoping that they hadn’t. “You all know that I’m known for my marksmanship.”

  The co-pilot swallowed so hard she could see his neck move.

  “You,” she said to the pilot. “Open the pod.”

  It was a calculated gamble. If this yacht had standard features, there would be a pod near the cockpit. But this was a private yacht and, she knew, that private yachts could be modified to fit the owners’ needs.

  The pilot glanced at his friends, as if he were asking them for help. Ekaterina waved the pistol as if she were urging him forward, but also to make herself seem just a bit more dangerous than she was.

  She had no idea if it worked, but the pilot did step forward. He walked around the main console and went to a nearby wall. He pressed a hidden panel and the wall opened.

  Ekaterina’s hand tightened around the pistol. An escape pod should have been clearly marked.

  The opening revealed the sleek black sides of an escape pod. The pod even had markings on it, showing the yacht’s name and manufacturer.

  “Get in,” she said.

  “It’s built for two,” the pilot said.

  “I don’t care if it’s built for a single Disty, you’re going to get in,” Ekaterina said.

  The pilot glanced at the others, then pushed open the sliding door on the pod. There was enough room for two people to sit comfortably. The third would have to sit on the floor or crouch. Obviously this pod was designed only for the pilot and co-pilot. Theoretically, the pods in the back—if there were pods in the back—would have more room for passengers.

  “I’m not going to tell you again,” Ekaterina said.

  The pilot bent at the waist and extended a leg inside. He was a bit too tall for the pod’s specs.

  “Get on the floor,” Jenny said, as if she were tired of all this drama. “I’m taking the main seat.”

  Then she moved in front of him and climbed onto the seat, managing the movement while keeping her hands on her head.

  The pilot sat on the floor behind her, and the co-pilot took the remaining seat.