Ravyn's Flight Read online

  He nodded. “How long were you down there?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Less than an hour. Maybe three quarters of an hour.”

  “When did you trigger the emergency beacon?”

  Ravyn looked up at him again, confused. “I didn’t trigger the emergency beacon.”

  “Are you sure? You didn’t forget because of shock?”

  “No. I never thought of it. All I could think of was finding somewhere safe.”

  “Shit.” Damon freed his hands and reached for the radio at his waist. It stunned Ravyn that the military would send a Spec Ops team out with such ancient comm equipment. His unit even had cords connecting the receiver on his belt to the transmitter. She listened to the captain try to raise his men.

  They didn’t answer.

  He reached his feet in a flash and held out a hand to help her up. “Come on,” he ordered.

  She thought he would release her as soon as she was standing, but he didn’t. They moved slowly, deliberately along the corridor from the kitchen to the communal room. The sight of the weapon he held in his right hand had her adrenaline pumping. When they reached the room, it was empty, bloodstains marking the deaths of nineteen good people. She saw the wreath of white flowers lying in one of the congealing pools of blood. It had been in Sondra’s hair. Until she’d fallen over her body and gotten her hand caught in the braided stems.

  The urge to vomit came upon her suddenly and Ravyn swallowed hard. She couldn’t be weak, not now. Something had gone wrong and Damon didn’t need to be distracted by her. She could fake bravery for a little while, long enough, she hoped.

  They proceeded methodically through the building, cautiously going from room to room. Ravyn remained silent and worked on keeping her breathing even. She had the same eerie sensation she had felt last night before her world had come crumbling down.

  Something was very wrong.

  Ravyn may not have been in the military, but she knew enough to keep her mouth shut and her eyes open. She even managed to keep from crying out in alarm when they walked into the communications room. All her equipment had been smashed. More than smashed, pulverized. Even the spares that she had stored on the shelves were a mass of tangled wires and components. She looked at Damon, trying to judge by his reaction if this was a new development. Only the tightening of his lips led her to believe the comm room had not looked like this upon his arrival. He appeared grim, but his stoicism reassured her.

  They found no sign of the six men who had arrived with Damon on the first level. The basement was used primarily for storage and they searched there next. Even with all the lights ablaze, the many boxes and shelving units cast deep shadows.

  Damon did let go of her hand now, but whispered almost silently, “Stay close.”

  Ravyn nodded. She could have told him he didn’t have to worry. He could consider her his Siamese twin from now on. Before today, she had never considered the storage area to be scary, but now she found it downright terrifying. It was almost a relief not to find anything or anybody.

  Almost.

  “Where are the stairs to the sub-basement?” he asked, his mouth next to her ear, his words almost inaudible.

  Ravyn swallowed and pointed. He gestured for her to follow. As if she needed the reminder. She practically walked on his boot heels as they went to the door. With fear warping her sense of time, it seemed to take hours to reach their destination. The supplies concealed the door to the sub-basement. It hadn’t been intentional, but the most efficient placement of the various shelves had created a “hidden” doorway. No one unfamiliar with the facility would easily find it.

  The door stood ajar. They remained there for a long time, listening, before Damon led the way down the stairs.

  The small sub-basement required only one light fixture to illuminate the space. Ravyn knew it hooked into the emergency system. It had remained lit last night, keeping her unaware that the rest of the facility had been plunged into darkness. This room held nothing but more smashed communications equipment. Ravyn could have cried in dismay at the sight.

  “We’re getting out of here, now. Stay right behind me,” he ordered urgently.

  Squaring her shoulders, Ravyn nodded. If she had considered their movement earlier to be cautious, it was nothing compared to the vigilance and stealth Damon used now. Her nerves were ready to snap by the time they reached the first level once more.

  His men were not inside the building. That left only one other place for them to be. Outside. The rectangular structure had two entrances. Damon chose to use the one in front. She froze, afraid to so much as breathe as he listened carefully before opening the door.

  Bright sunshine bombarded her. Ravyn knew the threat remained, but it seemed hard to believe anything bad could happen on such a beautiful day. They stood to the side of the door, listening intently before stepping outside. Slowly, they circled the building, but found nothing, not even a footprint.

  She’d lived on Jarved Nine for months, yet suddenly, she was struck by how like Earth it was. It seemed surreal, as if this were an odd dream and she’d awaken in her bed. She pinched herself, but she still saw oksai trees, not oaks. Ravyn shook her head and forced herself to focus on where they were headed.

  The three-sided structure that housed the team’s land transports was set away from the facility. As they neared it, Ravyn could see all five of the rovers had been severely damaged and she stopped to stare. Damon snagged her hand once more and tugged her along. She forced herself to keep up. They had to check out the building, see if the vehicles could be repaired.

  One cursory look was all she needed to know the rovers were not going to be working again. Ever. Up close, they looked like heaps of scrap metal. Damon checked each vehicle, but nothing could be salvaged. There was no sign of his men.

  They continued to search the area around the facility. In the clearing on the other side of a small copse of trees, Ravyn spotted the Spec Ops team transport. It listed drunkenly to one side. Damon’s grip on her hand tightened briefly as they cautiously approached it. There were huge holes punched into the fuselage. Ravyn bit her lip to keep from gasping.

  This particular military transport had not only been designed to withstand direct enemy attacks on the ground or air, it also had the ability to enter and leave a planet’s atmosphere. It was used to shuttle between the big space transports and whatever planet the troops needed to land on. It should have been impossible to puncture the skin of the craft with anything short of an armor-piercing laser. One set of landing rails had been pulled from the belly of the transport and twisted upward like the tip of an elf’s shoe. Damon cursed softly.

  Rounding the nose of the vehicle, they made their way to the entry. There were gaps where the pressure seal no longer touched the door. After a careful scan, Damon tucked his gun away and forced open the hatch. She could see his muscles straining as the door resisted his efforts. It finally gave with a groaning sound that made Ravyn wince. After taking another look around, Damon said, “Put your back against the hull and keep watch. I’ll be quick, but if you see something, holler.”

  Ravyn nodded, and after a slight hesitation, the captain hoisted himself into the transport. She could hear him moving around, feel the craft sway. He wasn’t gone long. When he dropped from the hatch to the ground, she saw his expression had become even more grim. “What did you find?” she asked.

  “The inside looks worse than the outside, if you can believe that.” He looked around. “Come on.”

  Ravyn tilted her head back and sucked in a silent breath for courage. That’s when she noticed the deiril circling on the other side of the facility. Like the vultures of Earth, they scavenged the remains of dead animals. She caught Damon’s attention and pointed. She didn’t know how he kept from running. If it had been up to her, they would have raced to the meadow.

  It seemed to take forever to reach the other clearing. And there, Ravyn saw exactly what she had feared. She quick
ly glanced away, but it was too late. She would have one more nightmare scene burned into her memory.

  Damon’s men lay lifeless in the field.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Damon kept them behind the cover of the trees. Even from this distance, he knew his men were dead. Carefully, he scanned the surrounding area, watching for any movement, listening for any sound. His gut told him the danger had passed, but he confirmed it with his senses.

  When he felt confident that no immediate threat existed, he turned to Ravyn. She had her back to the clearing, but she held her composure. His first inclination was to leave her where she stood while he checked the bodies. She didn’t need to see any more corpses up close, but sparing her was out of the question. Separating was risky and too many people were dead to take any chances. Damn, he wished he had his assault rifle. Like the greenest recruit, he’d left it inside the CAT facility. Too late now, he thought, and put his energies toward what they had to do.

  “Ravyn.”

  She angled her head toward him, but not far enough to see the clearing. Her body vibrated with small tremors.

  “You’re going to have to come with me,” he told her.

  For an instant she appeared blank, but as dread flowed into her eyes, he knew she understood what he asked of her.

  He thought she would argue, but she drew a deep breath and nodded. Damon returned the nod and the concern he had over her reaction eased. He didn’t have to tell her to hang close; she stayed right on his heels.

  Damon didn’t want to look at the bodies, but he pushed aside his aversion. It’s no different than war, he told himself. “Watch my back,” he said, his voice low.

  Without waiting for Ravyn’s agreement, he crouched down and examined the first corpse. Even with the eyes gouged out and blood everywhere, he recognized his second in command. He remembered how happy Spence had been that the training mission would be over in time to get them home for his daughter’s first birthday. He thought of little Ginny with her shiny blond hair and her bright blue eyes. His goddaughter was going to be a heartbreaker when she got older. And she wasn’t going to have a daddy to protect her. His hands fisted. He couldn’t think like this.

  Ruthlessly, Damon quashed his emotions and took a clinical look at the body. Along with the eyes, the tongue had been cut or pulled out, the chest ripped open and the heart removed.

  Exactly the way the other nineteen had been mutilated.

  It appeared the victims had been alive until their hearts had been torn out. A shudder he couldn’t quite repress went through his body. It was a horrible way to die.

  The idea of searching his friends made him balk, but survival, both his and Ravyn’s, depended on it. Shaking off his dread, he checked for anything useful. After taking what he could, Damon picked up the chain resting on Spence’s left shoulder and removed one of the two dog tags. The tag needed to be embedded in the cranial cavity so that the body could be identified no matter what its condition when it was recovered. Damon hesitated, then forced himself to do it. He broke a tab off the tag, activating the nano-bore, and pressed it against Spence’s head. The sound it emitted as it entered the skull nauseated him, but he ignored it. He heard Ravyn gasp and saw her look away, but she didn’t say a word.

  It didn’t become easier to be dispassionate as he did the same thing with the other bodies. He tried not to think of who the corpse had once been. Tried to put thoughts of wives, children, parents, brothers and sisters out of his mind.

  The bodies had been arranged in some type of order. Damon didn’t understand the significance of the pattern, but he memorized its details. Later he would analyze it more closely. Some of the retrieved items he tucked into pockets, others he handed to Ravyn. She accepted everything he passed her without comment.

  By the time he reached the last man, Carter, Damon moved quickly. Their exposure played a part, as did his need to finish the unpleasant task. Besides, Ravyn shook visibly now and looked a little green. As he straightened, he noticed Carter’s vest remained intact and didn’t have much blood on it. Respectfully, he removed it. The man hadn’t been dead long enough for his muscles to stiffen, making the task relatively easy, but of all the things he’d done so far, Damon hated this the most. “Come on,” he said.

  When they reached the bushes, about ninety degrees from where they’d entered the clearing, Damon took everything Ravyn held and arranged the items in the many pockets of the vest. Although none of the equipment had protected his men, he wasn’t ready to write it off yet. With everything placed to his satisfaction, Damon took off his own vest and handed it to Ravyn. He knew he wouldn’t get her to wear Carter’s, so he didn’t ask. “Put this on.”

  Silently, she complied, but he could see the relief in her eyes. Despite her height, his vest hung past her hips. He put on Carter’s and sealed it. The sergeant had been about his size, maybe a fraction bigger, and the fit was comfortable. As long as he didn’t think about how he had gotten it.

  Ravyn hadn’t fastened her vest. He started to issue an order, but her attention was focused across the clearing. Something about her expression stopped Damon from speaking, and he reached over and took care of it for her, then slipped a canteen strap across her chest.

  Of the six men, only one had still had a pistol. He could only assume that whoever committed the mutilations had the other weapons. The ammunition, however, had not been touched and Damon had taken all of it. This oversight made about as much sense as anything else he’d encountered today.

  “Damon.” Ravyn had spoken his name in a soft whisper, but since it was the first word she’d said in a long time, she had his immediate attention.

  “What?”

  “Do you see the knapsack across the way?” She pointed directly to the other side of the clearing.

  It took him a moment to locate it because shadows and long, sweeping branches concealed the drab green bag. The distance and placement made it appear the pack had been thrown. Although it was difficult to be sure, he suspected it was the comm gear that Lopez had carried. When he hadn’t found it with his body, Damon had believed the killer had taken it. “I see it,” he told her. “And yes, we need it.”

  The simplest, easiest way to reach it would be to walk across the clearing. Damon wasn’t willing to give up cover again, however, so he kept to the woods. He half-expected to hear Ravyn start complaining, but she didn’t and his admiration for her went up a notch.

  The odds of the pack being a trap were low, Damon decided, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He might have been more daring if he were on his own, but he wasn’t. His jaw tightened. Putting Ravyn a safe distance behind him, he warily approached the knapsack and checked it out. When he felt sure everything was okay, Damon opened the pack and quickly scanned the contents. As he’d suspected, it contained the team’s portable communications equipment. He couldn’t tell how extensive the damage was, but they could figure that out later. He closed the pack and put it on, shrugging until it rested comfortably.

  “Let’s go.”

  *** *** ***

  Ravyn had passed uncomfortable hours earlier. The canteen she carried banged into her thigh with every step and the vest seemed to grow heavier with every breath. As much as she wanted to collapse, she didn’t. She tried to close her mind to everything but following the man in front of her. It wasn’t easy, but sometimes she could do it for minutes at a stretch. When her ability to endure weakened, she would remind herself that Damon carried a lot more than she did. And when that wasn’t enough to keep her going, she would remember her family. She could almost feel them with her, prodding her forward.

  Her father had been a scout. He had died doing the most dangerous job in the Alliance. It was a high-risk job today, but twenty years ago, it had been worse. Scouts were the first men down on planets able to support human life, and they determined whether a CAT team followed.

  As her energy flagged, she reminded herself that few received a position on a CAT team and even fewer got off-world ass
ignments. She had been given both. Ravyn forced her feet to keep moving. For a split second, she thought she saw her father nod his head in approval, but she blinked and he disappeared.

  It was monsoon season in this area of Jarved Nine and patches of ground remained boggy from yesterday’s late afternoon downpour. Damon went around the small patches of muddy earth, but when they hit a big spot that would take too much time to avoid, they went through it. The one they tromped through now seemed unending. The mud sucked at her feet, trying to trap her. She had to pull her boots out of the muck with each step. If she’d had the breath, she would have been cursing.

  Sweat ran into her eyes, burning them, but she didn’t have the energy to lift her hand and wipe her brow. Under the vest, perspiration soaked her shirt. Her muscles screamed, begging for her to stop. Maybe if she rested, just for a minute...

  Marie Verdier Sullivan hadn’t raised her daughter to quit when things got tough. Her mother had been a doctor on the front lines of the Oceanic Wars and in the thick of battle. She had tended soldiers with bullets whizzing over her head. Ravyn could swear she saw her mother, heard her urging her on. On another day, that might have worried her, since her mother had died with her stepfather twelve years ago, but not when it took all she had to remain on her feet.

  Damon glanced over his shoulder, not breaking stride. He’d done that off and on to verify she still tagged along behind him. The heavy humidity made her feel she couldn’t take a full breath. She gasped for air with each step, and he wasn’t even breathing hard. The man wasn’t human, she decided cantankerously.

  No, he’s Spec Ops.

  Ravyn stumbled and caught her balance. She’d lost it. That voice belonged to her stepfather. Muscle fatigue must be bringing on hallucinations; that had to be why she heard and saw dead people. First her father and mother, now her stepfather.

  A louder squish than usual had her looking down. She grimaced when she saw mud oozing to the top of her boots. It took extra effort to free herself and then she had to run to catch up with Damon. She felt a stitch begin in her side. Think about something else, she told herself.