Kidnapped Read online

  Clothes. Datapad. In-lens. Stunner. Extra cartridge. Rifling through his closet, Cyan finally unearthed the holster for the stunner, fitting it over his shoulders. He double-checked the stunner and cartridge, and then slid them into place. Reaching back into the closet, he tugged on a plain black jacket, rolling his shoulders so everything settled properly. Next, he double-checked his permits and licenses to carry the concealed stunner, as well as his Rehab ID and clearances.

  Better to travel incognito, but if he had to throw his weight around, he would. The only real problem he was going to have was that no one had ever really believed him when he'd claimed ignorance of Sean being magics capable. Cyan didn't blame them—he still couldn't forgive Sean for not telling him.

  But it meant IG officials were still watching him, if covertly. They had said months ago he was no longer under suspicion, but Cyan wasn't stupid. He knew better than anyone realized how the IG worked. They were still watching him. That meant he'd have to be really fucking careful they didn't find his actions suspicious.

  Bangkok was right at the border of the second and third quads, making it a nearly perfect halfway point between Mars and Kreska. If he got to Bangkok, the IG would likely lose any interest in him after a couple of days. Everyone went to Bangkok, all for the same reasons. The Star of Delights was called thus for extremely good reasons.

  All Cyan would have to do was find a way to slip out of Bangkok and get to Kreska. Not easy to do, but not impossible. If a magics capable human could vanish from the stars, Cyan could slip undetected out of Bangkok.

  Even after a term, it was hard to believe Sean was magics capable. He knew there were IG scientists who believed that it was only a matter of time before humans started evolving magics; mingling and mixing with so many magics capable races, it was to be expected. However, Cyan had never expected to encounter a reality that validated their theories. He definitely hadn't thought it would be his best friend.

  The Infinitum Government was run by humans because they were the only species in existence that was not magics capable. Every official from the Grand Chancellor down through the Lower Chancellors, the High and Low Councilors, the Authorities, and Rehabilitation Guards were all human. No one employed in a government role was magics capable.

  It was important that humans never gain magics capability because the greatest danger with those who were capable was the vulnerability to all magics—mind control, telepathy, telekinesis, and hundreds upon hundreds more. It was too dangerous to let magics capable beings run the government; there were too many chances for things to go horribly wrong. If humans suddenly became magics capable, the entire power structure would collapse and war would result.

  Cyan didn't give a fuck, except that it meant his biggest problem wasn't going to be finding Sean—it would be getting Sean home to see his mother. Should the wrong people ever find Sean, they would kill him. That, however, was a problem for later. First, he had to get to Sean.

  Swearing softly and refusing to admit he might be happy about getting to see Sean again, even if the circumstances fucking sucked, Cyan slung the strap of his duffle bag over his chest. He locked the door as he left, setting the codes for a long absence—meaning the house would shut down and run on the bare essentials until he returned. Waters would stop by to deal with shit like food and all. The bastard might stick him with the Sardorans, but Waters looked after his own.

  Making his way back to the terminal, Cyan bypassed everything by flashing his RCCs—Rehab clearance codes—, since Rehabbers got special treatment, due to the vigorous and highly specialized training that even the Authorities did not experience. He stopped briefly at one security desk where all his stuff was quickly cleared. At the ticket desk, he booked the first flight out.

  Chapter Three

  Planet 0315149 (Coni), Private Estate of Grae Drall

  "No sign of a struggle," Sean said, picking through the various and sundry objects in Lady Jundel's room. "She must have been taken in her sleep, which is rather impressive, knowing what little I do of your mother."

  Mendel said nothing; merely continued to examine the room, a grim expression on his face. Sean wished he knew what to say to at least get Mendel to calm down, but one term later and they still seemed to be strangers in too many ways. He watched Mendel surreptitiously, admiring him despite the futility of it all. He could admire Mendel until the day he died, and Mendel would neither notice nor care. Mendel's only interest in life was in saving the Draconis.

  Sean could not blame him for that either, not when he knew what it was like for people to want him dead. The existence of a magics capable human was the death knell of human control of the IG. When they eventually got caught, no one would bother to arrest them—between him being a mutant and Mendel being a convicted felon, they would shoot on sight.

  In Sean's mind, that meant they should enjoy what they could for as long as they could. He was more than willing to enjoy his kidnapper-turned-friend, but he could crawl naked into Mendel's bed, lubed up and ready to go, and Mendel wouldn't notice because he was too busy compiling a report or examining star charts.

  Putting the thoughts aside, because there were definitely more important matters at present, Sean sat down at Jundel's desk and activated her work unit. It was a handsome piece, built into a dark wood desk, everything motion activated and state of the art. No Draconis really wanted to be matched, but Jundel had definitely made one of the best matches possible in Lord Drall. Sean activated the screens and half a dozen squares of light lit up around him.

  Well, he knew where Mendel got his 'all work, no play' modus operandi. He fussed with the work unit for a few minutes, then pulled out his own data pad and synched them, calling up his cracks to hack into her system. Jundel was no idiot, however; it would take several minutes for him to get into it—and if it all held true to the rest of the kidnappings, there would be no clues.

  Across the room, Mendel was rifling through a jewelry box, a too-familiar pensive frown on his face. Sean went over to him, lightly touching his shoulder. "We'll find her, Mendel. I'm sorry she was one of the victims."

  "It was a logical choice," Mendel said, putting a necklace he had been holding back in the case. "She said herself it could happen, and I told her to take the necessary precautions, but of course she did not listen."

  Sean's mouth curved up in one corner in a fond half-smile. "No, I would imagine she didn't. Your family does not seem the listening sort."

  Mendel shrugged. "Listening goes both ways."

  "I know, I was teasing," Sean said, then shook his head. "Never mind. I'm running cracks now. Maybe her unit will turn up something. You say she was a good choice for the kidnappers, but it seems strange to me they would pick such high-profile victims. Lord Drall and Lady Jundel are two of the most well-known supporters for the continued existence of the Draconis. Until now, the kidnappers were keeping everything low key, but this latest snatch will cause the problem to go straight to the media. What were they thinking?"

  "That my mother and Lord Drall are a perfect example of what the Conis and Draconis were meant to be," Mendel said, moving to the unit and watching impatiently while Sean's cracks slowly whittled down its security. "Everyone else they've kidnapped has been a Draconis matched with a non-Coni. Whatever the hells they're doing, they would need a control. I'm surprised they have not addressed that sooner. But who knows, we know absolutely nothing about what's going on past what we can conjecture based on the persons kidnapped."

  Sean nodded and rested his hand lightly on Mendel's back. "I'm sure they're already regretting it, and maybe we'll get a break now that it will finally come to media attention—"

  "I don't want it coming to media attention!" Mendel snapped. "If it goes too far, whoever it is might panic and just kill all of them. While this was quiet, we stood a chance. But now…"

  "They won't murder that many people," Sean tried to reassure, but before he could say anything further, both their in-lens lit up and a voice spoke in their
ears.

  "Get what you can and get back on the ship. Just got word from Winter that another kidnapping has gone down. These fuckers are even better than we thought because they snatched Dr. Itzal Bikendi from the Imperial Tower of Telve."

  Sean's brows shot up at that. Beside him, Mendel looked just as shocked. Who the hell was brazen enough to kidnap someone from Telve? From the stars damned Imperial Tower? "We're on our way," he replied, then looked at Mendel. "Do you want to wait to see what we'll learn from searching the unit?"

  "No," Mendel said. "Winter can send someone else to look into it. Lock it down so only IA can mess with it."

  "You got it," Sean replied, and immediately went to work, tapping his datapad and activating a full keyboard. It shimmered green and blue in the air in front of him, flaring orange as he hit the keys and uploaded a program to keep running cracks, simultaneously setting up his own securities and sealing up the protocols to transmit later to Winter, who could pass it on to whatever agent he assigned to finish the job they'd started.

  When he was done, Sean put his datapad to rest and slid it into its holster on his thigh. "All set. Let's go see what Telve can tell us." He took Mendel's arm, tugged him close, and for a brief, stolen moment enjoyed his warmth and salty-sweet scent. Then he called up his magics, and they vanished from the room.

  Custom Class Starship Z-28922942, the Brilliant

  Mendel strode off as soon as they reappeared in the transport room, not looking back. Sean sighed and followed him but veered off halfway to the bridge to go to the mess. He knew for a fact that Mendel had not eaten so much as a bite since hearing of his mother's kidnapping, and whatever the idiot thought, he would do no one any favors by starving himself.

  A few minutes later, carefully carrying three trays of food, Sean joined the other two on the bridge. "So who is this guy you said was kidnapped, Karmikel?"

  Karmikel looked up from where he was bent over the center console with Mendel, arguing over the best route to take. "Do you live under a rock?"

  "If by rock, you mean 'vaguely illegal custom class starship as the magics capable human mate of a convicted felon', then yes, I live under a rock," Sean replied dryly.

  "Fair enough," Karmikel said, impatiently shoving back strands of honey-gold hair. His scales and skin were the same shade, making him look like a Draconis crafted from the finest gold leaf. "Dr. Itzal Bikendi is the leading geneticist in the IG, and he has a long list of specialties, but he's best known for supporting the theory of lost magics."

  When no one bothered to explain what that meant, Sean rolled his eyes, and asked, "What is the theory of lost magics?"

  "Bikendi, along with a small handful of other scientists, believes that humans once possessed magics and that they were suppressed for reasons not yet known. That they were suppressed to the point that it now seems humans do not possess magics. Bikendi believes that, eventually, humans will possess magics again. Bikendi would count you proof of that theory," Mendel explained.

  "I've never heard that theory." Of course, Sean conceded, he'd never given a damn about science. He hadn't dared, not when he was a lab rat waiting to happen.

  Mendel shrugged. "It's not a popular theory within the IG, obviously. The only reason no one shuts Bikendi up is that he is both brilliant and deadly."

  "What do you mean?"

  Mendel answered, "He can kill with just a touch of his hand, drain a person's energy, and convert it to whatever energy he needs. It's an especially fascinating magics in that it's micro-environmental, meaning he can kill even humans. He studies magics and genetics in the hopes of overcoming his own magics, or so it's said. He lives on the primary moon of Telve; I can't think why in the stars he was down planet."

  "Could be any number of reasons," Sean said, and shoved a tray at him, forcing Mendel to take it or let it drop. "It's not like you can keep up with the everyday lives of every scientist and Draconis in the IG. We have our hands full as it is. My main concern is Telve and whether they'll let us poke around."

  Karmikel snorted. "What the hell is the point of Winter if he can't get us cleared for that?"

  As if sensing he had been mentioned, the main comm screen lit up with an incoming communication. Karmikel accepted it via his in-lens and the screen flared to life, displaying a man who looked to be in his forties, with broad shoulders and the mien of a man long-used to authority. He was dressed in the black and silver formal uniform of the IG, a stark contrast to his white-blond hair, the whole adding an almost silvery touch to his pale blue eyes. "I have obtained passes for you to enter Telve, though it will obviously be covertly. Spring, they are not willing to risk your presence, so you will remain on the ship while the others investigate."

  "But—"

  "It's non-negotiable," Winter said firmly. "I have an agent in Telve working on something else. He will be your escort. I have transmitted all pertinent information, as well as clearance for the light gate. Contact me if you have any questions. Winter out."

  Sean frowned when Mendel set his tray of food down, clearly dismissing it. "I'm not staying on the damned ship! I'm the scientist; I'm the only one who will understand whatever we look at." The words shouldn't have stung, but they did because Sean might not have been a scientist, but he wasn't a fucking idiot either. He knew enough to know what to bring back to Mendel. "I'm not just going to sit here being useless—"

  "I'm not useless because I usually stay on the ship," Karmikel snapped. "If you didn't want to be stuck on the ship, then you shouldn't have committed murder! You're a felon; deal with the consequences." For a moment, Sean thought Mendel was going to launch himself at Karmikel and break his face. Sean had never seen Mendel resort to violence, but from what little he'd inferred from Karmikel, he could more than hold his own in a fight.

  It made Sean all the more curious about what had happened the night Mendel had killed his father, but as with everything else about himself, Mendel didn't discuss it. He was the single most infuriating person Sean had ever met. Even getting Cyan to talk about himself was not as difficult as getting Mendel to talk about anything other than his cause.

  The tension finally broke when Mendel turned sharply on his heel and left the bridge. Karmikel made a face and bent back over the three-dimensional star chart display, in-lens flashing as he mucked with courses, settling on the best one. "You have a death wish," Sean remarked.

  "Che," Karmikel said dismissively. "I wish he would punch me. Holding back all that rage is exactly what caused that fight between them in the first place. He needs to learn to let it go, and while I don't really want to be his punching bag…well, it's hardly the first time someone has come at me looking to cave my head in. I don't care."

  "I think we all need a damned break," Sean said, and sighed at the abandoned food. He tried to ignore it, but in the end just couldn't. Picking it up, he headed off to find Mendel. "Vicky," he said, speaking to the AI that ran the Brilliant, "Where is Mendel?"

  "Laboratory," Vicky replied.

  "Thanks," Sean said, and took the stairs up to the third level, which had mostly been converted into a research laboratory and office space. His own work area was in the south-most corner. Mendel stood in the middle of the room, poring over data that lit up the primary work table. Clearly impatient, he dismissed whatever he was reading and called up something new.

  Sean drew a deep breath, steeling himself for an argument, then let it out slowly and walked forward. He froze the table with a touch and a command from his in-lens, and then set the tray of food over whatever Mendel was reading. "You really need to eat, Mendel."

  "I don't need you telling me what to do," Mendel said coolly, shoving the tray aside and unfreezing his table, resuming work. "I am busy. I will eat when I feel like it."

  "You haven't eaten in two days," Sean countered.

  Mendel ignored him. Sean stifled a sigh and raked a hand through his overlong hair—then grabbed Mendel, spun him around, and swept his legs out from under him. He pinned Mendel to the floor,
straddling him so his arms were pinned to his sides. "You're being an ass. You don't help anyone by overworking and starving yourself. How many fucking times do we have to have this argument?"

  "Until you stop nagging me," Mendel said curtly. "I have taken care of myself this long; I will continue to do—"

  "It's not just about you!" Sean snapped. "It's about everyone you're trying to help; it's about your mother working her ass off to help you. It's about—" He bit off the word 'me', because whatever he might wish, whatever he might want, it wasn't about him. Mendel was truly sorry that they had matched, Sean knew that, but he didn't want Mendel to be sorry. He wanted Mendel to give a damn, to want to make them more than just comrades in arms. He liked to say they were friends, but he knew it was just tarting up a working relationship. "Do you know why Rehabbers are unbeatable?"

  Mendel snorted. "I know they think they're unbeatable."

  Sean jabbed him, hard. "Fuck you. I'm being serious—would it kill you to cooperate with me for five fucking minutes? Rehabbers are unbeatable because we train and train and train. We have to be better than all the different kinds of criminals we deal with every day. Not only do we train, but we work on rigid schedules, and part of that schedule is regular, month-long breaks. Do you know why those are important?" Mendel remained stonily silent, but Sean pushed on, refusing to be daunted. "A Rehabber who can't let go and unwind is a danger to himself and others. Too much work and not enough downtime leaves you too tense to function properly. The best Rehabbers are the ones who walk away from the job for a bit and clear their heads. You need to clear your fucking head, and you need to eat."

  "Fine," Mendel replied.

  "You could listen to me, instead of just saying what you think I want to hear," Sean said. Mendel glared at him. Sean wondered what had happened to the man who had first kidnapped him a term ago, the one who had apologized and looked contrite, and had compelled Sean to give this whole crazy thing a chance instead of waiting for the first opportunity to escape.