Page 14 of Shielded in the Shadows

I flew ahead, watching for danger as we approached the first intersection of corridors. When I glanced behind me, I nearly flitted into the wall in surprise.

In mere seconds, Keela’s human face had vanished, replaced by the blue-skinned, three-eyed, noseless features of a Gandarian. And her cloak was now dark blue with gold trim, the signature colors of the Gandarian merchant class.

The biomask and nanotech clothing were impressive, but even more so was the change in her gait and body language. She moved like a Gandarian rather than a human, her steps heavier and stride shorter. Gandarians were a common sight on Ghira Station since Gandar was in an adjacent sector of Alliance space. Had we crossed paths on the promenade, I wouldn’t have given her a second glance.

A strange warmth grew in my chest. At first, I didn't recognize the sensation. Then I realized it was pride. I was proud to be the mate of this highly trained, brilliant, and adaptable female.

Head high and shoulders back, Keela turned left at the first intersection and began weaving her way through the workers rushing in all directions laden with everything from stacks of crates to cages containing live animals. She moved with purpose and confidence as if she’d traveled these corridors dozens of times, and not at all as if she were fleeing converging mercenaries. I stayed close, taking advantage of the shadows along the ceiling to move unnoticed.

Without missing a beat, Keela veered to the right, activated one of several unused antigrav sleds docked along the corridor, and used its controller to drive it in front of her. To onlookers, it would appear as if she were a simple merchant who’d delivered part of her cargo and was now headed back to her vessel to pick up another load. The sled added another layer to her disguise. Again, I was impressed by her quick thinking.

The dull roar of voices in the corridor ahead changed pitch and several beings let out surprised and annoyed exclamations.

I spotted a flash of familiar red through the crowd. If I’d had teeth in this form, I would have ground them together.

Jonor.

He was stalking through the crowd in our direction, knocking unlucky beings aside simply with his bulk. In his upper arms, he cradled his personal oversized pulse rifle. Such a weapon would cause significant injuries. Did he plan to use it against Keela? Surely not. Sjer would never stand for it. He wanted her alive and as unharmed as possible.

The rifle wasn’t my only cause for concern. Clipped on Jonor’s belt next to his favorite dagger was a biometric scanner, which would be feeding information on every being in his vicinity to an earpiece.

In seconds, he would be face-to-face with my mate. I had no idea if Keela’s disguise was purely visual or if she had some way of fooling a biometric scanner as advanced as the one on Jonor’s belt, but I wasn’t about to take the chance.

Still in shadow form, I darted ahead to Jonor’s side and reached for the scanner.

If I’d had time for finesse, I could have melted a single component that could easily have been mistaken for a manufacturing defect. But I didn’t have time, so I fried the entire scanner in a massive surge of electrical disruption. The device’s superheated casing broke open with a burst of blue flame, a shower of sparks, and a puff of foul black smoke.

Cursing, Jonor ripped the scanner from his belt and flung it away. It hit a Forbian trader in the face and then skittered across the deck, where a lumbering Zaltrudan stepped on it and crushed it flat.

With a roar, the offended Forbian swung at Jonor’s face. Jonor leaned back so the Forbian missed his chin by inches and then used his opponent’s momentum to send him crashing into the wall.

Having probably witnessed similar occurrences often enough, most beings in the vicinity immediately divided into two groups: those who egged on the fight, treating it as entertainment, and those who fled to avoid either becoming collateral damage or the inevitable arrival of station security.

Keela opted for the latter. She steered her sled against the wall and abandoned it. Maneuvering it through the gathering crowd would have been more trouble than it was worth. Similar sleds would be docked throughout the station’s service corridors, ready for use by traders and shopkeepers.

I had no idea why Jonor was here instead of acting as a sentry back at the Fancy, unless Sjer had decided to send more crew members throughout the station to try to hunt Keela down after our initial plan to take her into custody in Final Chance had gone awry.

By now, the doors to the bar would be open and my former shipmates would likely have discovered Keela was no longer there and I’d left my clothing and med kit behind and vanished as well. From this moment on, if anyone from the Fancy spotted me, I would be a target. Sjer might want me alive to find out what I’d done and why, but he’d probably settle for seeing my corpse. Either way, he’d care far less about my fate than getting his hands on Keela and earning his favors. The thought of her in his grasp made my vision go red around the edges.

Never.

Moving more quickly but still with a distinctly Gandarian gait, Keela headed away from Jonor and toward another intersection of corridors. I kept pace directly above her, watching for any indication that she’d caught the notice of anyone, but it seemed most beings around us were either intent on minding their own business, getting farther from the fight, or rushing back toward the sounds of fists striking flesh.

As Keela turned right at the next intersection, we passed Boorginamai coming from the other direction. He was lumbering toward Jonor, cursing in his native language. His gaze raked over everyone in his path, including Keela, but he didn’t appear to take any special notice of her. Her disguise seemed to be working thus far.

It might be too much to hope for that the angry Forbian would kill Jonor, but a shadow could hope. My only regret would be that I hadn’t done it myself.

For the next several minutes, I accompanied Keela through the maze of Deck 4 corridors as she made numerous turns that included backtracking and sudden changes in direction obviously designed to spot or evade tails. I wondered if she still suspected the presence of someone unseen tracking her movements. If she did, she gave no indication.

Finally, apparently satisfied she wasn’t being followed, she headed for a cargo lift. I’d expected her to use a maintenance shaft to descend levels, but maybe she thought she’d have a difficult time explaining her presence if she ran into one of the station’s service or security personnel. They might sound the alarm and give away her location.

Keela stepped into a small lift and set her destination as Deck 8, the busiest of the docking rings. I took up position near the ceiling at the front in case we ran into trouble on arrival. The doors closed and the lift lurched into motion. The passenger lifts ran much more smoothly.

“I know you’re here,” she said, her voice the flat, grating timbre of a Gandarian rather than her own.

I stayed where I was, unmoving, as she faced the doors with her hands hidden inside the cloak.

“You fried that scanner the same way you did the door controls in Final Chance,” she added. “I would have been fine, though. To biometric scanners, I read as Gandarian. But thank you for the exit from the bar. Would you care to introduce yourself?”