Captain Malik continued to hold her gaze. “You do, but this is still their turf. Are you willing to take that risk? The quicker we get out of here to safety, the better.”
Dizziness swept over Jenna. “All right, have it your way. Where to now then?”
“Back to the transpod station,” her bodyguard replied. His arm linked through hers, and he steered her off the viewing platform. “Try to look relaxed, My Lady.”
Jenna’s mouth compressed. “Easier said than done,” she muttered.
Sweat slid down her back as they wove their way through the press of passengers. Beyond the terminal windows, a large diamond-shaped passenger liner sat ready to disembark, while ground crew scurried around underneath its belly, unfastening cables, and removing coils.
The lightheadedness returned. How she wished she were safely on that liner, bound for the other end of the galaxy.
Instead, she was trapped. Aura Terminal was a big station, but those hunting them could be anywhere.
They circuited a delegation of robed Daksari who’d just stepped away from a ticketing-droid. Tall and slender with glittering grey-green skin, neck gills, and protruding brow-ridges, the Daksari hailed from a water planet. Dressed in heavy emerald cloaks, they were deep in discussion while they waited, their sibilant voices cutting through the rumble and chatter of the surrounding crowd.
Some of them glanced Malik and Jenna’s way, their gazes drawn by the sight of two more green-cloaked figures approaching. However, an instant later, upon realizing they were human, and not Daksari, the delegates glanced away.
Gaze riveted on the doors leading out to the transpod station, Jenna concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, when all she wanted was to bolt.
Waiting on the platform for the next pod, she made the mistake of turning around and glancing up at one of the vid-screens behind them.
And when she did, Jenna clutched at her bodyguard’s arm, her fingernails digging into his body-armor. “Look!”
Captain Malik swiveled, his gaze alighting on where a reporter stood before the wreckage of the plaza on the upper-side. Smoke still drifted across it, and the wail of sirens almost drowned out the reporter’s voice.
“I’m here in the Central Business Plaza, where a detonator has caused considerable damage … and loss of life,” she shouted at the camera before waving her hand toward where officials and garrison guards swarmed behind her. “A Mir-Brennan diplomatic delegation has been attacked by a group of unknown assailants. All members but two were gunned down … Ambassador Lady Jenna Mir-Brennan and Captain Malik Mir-Draven are reported missing.” Two images flashed up on the screen then. “The garrison is urging anyone who has seen the ambassador and her bodyguard to please come forward. There is great concern for their safety.”
Malik muttered a curse under his breath and yanked his hood down over his face. “Great … this is all we need.”
Swallowing, Jenna also drew her cowl forward before glancing nervously around the platform. Luckily for them, it was empty.
They needed to hide before someone recognized them.
By the time they stepped into one of the pods—this one bound for the lower-side shopping ward—sweat ran down her back, and she was struggling to breathe normally.
This transpod was packed with commuters, and Jenna found herself pushed up against the far wall. She clung to Malik’s arm, too unnerved to care about propriety. Right now, this man was the only thing standing between her and death. After the attack in the central plaza, it didn’t look like those after her wanted to take her captive.
Heat ignited in Jenna’s belly then, rage cutting through paralyzing fear.
She couldn’t believe Tian had hired assassins to ensure she never made it to the conference center, never met with the Mir-Lelith delegation. She’d always known he was ruthless, but this took it to a new level. She was Cathal’s deputy—and the Mir-Ferrins didn’t want her claiming her brother’s seat once they executed him.
The fire in Jenna’s gut roared hotter still. And they would kill her brother. The coming trial would be a sham, just like Mican Mir-Ferrin’s ‘military operation’.
Reaching their destination, they followed a stream of passengers out into a dimly lit street.
The streets on Aura’s lower-side were nothing like the spacious, leafy avenues of the upper-side. For one thing, no transparent sphere stretched overhead, providing a starry backdrop. Instead, a ceiling of dull-grey steel tubes, grating, and coils formed the sky, around fifteen meters above—and the buildings that rose beyond the shop fronts were ugly metallic boxes.
The shrines to galactic gods and goddesses were ornate on the upper-side, decorated with gilded statues; but down here, they were cramped alcoves with little more than a shelf and crudely made clay figurines. Someone had just lit fresh incense inside the shrine to Wis, the Seer of Truth. The cloying scent drifted across the street, catching in Jenna’s throat, and making her cough.
Nonetheless, the residents of the lower-side had done their best to inject some cheer into their drab surroundings. They’d hung lights over the streets, and gaudy, illuminated shop-front signs added much-needed color to the shadowy underworld.
Carefully keeping her hood covering her face, Jenna glanced around her. It was even busier down here than above—although the residents of the lower-side didn’t dress in the expensive robes of the rich. Many of the human faces that passed them were pinched and tired, and those who were fair-skinned were pallid—a result of living permanently on a space station.
Jenna lengthened her stride to keep up with Captain Malik’s long one. She glanced up at his cowled face. “Do you have a destination in mind?”
“Not yet,” he replied tersely. “Can I borrow your tablet?”
Wordlessly, Jenna dug into her bag and withdrew the device. However, she was careful to switch off the geo-locator before she handed it over.
