Page 39 of Desperate Measures

“Don’t provoke them,” Cheryl reminded the Soames siblings as she conducted Ydru and his assortment of blaster-wielding crewmembers to the gym where the children and human staff had gathered. Glowering, Marci and Darci stood before the children, who were seated on the basketball court’s floor in neat rows, the smallest in the middle. The sisters’ expressions were full of threat as they and several of the staff stood between the Galactic Council fleet crew and their charges.

“Everyone stay where you are!” Ydru shouted despite the orphanage’s inhabitants remaining in place.

A couple of the younger children began to cry. “It’s a werewolf,” somebody whimpered.

More like a rabid mutt. Those unfortunately were real. Deadly too.

“There’s no need to scream at the children,” Cheryl quietly rebuked as the dozen members of the crew swarmed the area, hunting for their quarry. “You see they’re already frightened.”

Ydru snarled and joined the search.

“All clear,” a blue-skinned Rekir wearing the rank of commander called following a few minutes of checking the adjoining offices and locker rooms.

Ydru waved his blaster at Cheryl, making no effort to pretend he wasn’t pointing it at her. “Stay with us. If the Kalquorians attack, you can be in the line of fire.”

Marci made a sound similar to a Kalquorian growl. Cheryl shot her a look. “Keep the children quiet here.”

She accompanied them throughout the facility. It was vast, having once accommodated thousands of people, and the investigation went on for a couple of hours. Despite the Galactic Council team’s heat signature scanners revealing no one was anywhere but the gym, Ydru insisted they physically inspect every inch of the orphanage. As they found no sign of their quarry, frustration caused the invaders to break many personal belongings of the adults and children.

There was no hope of appealing to any of them. The whole of Ydru’s landing party spoke in Dark-doubled voices.

Their last stop was the basement. There, a Beonid ensign shouted from a far corner. “Admiral! My scans are bouncing off this wall. It could be anti-detection shields concealing a hidden room.”

“What’s in there?” Ydru’s blaster centered on Cheryl’s chest, death in his triumphant gaze.

“It’s where we store our root vegetables after harvest. Your so-called shield is stelnium mixed-alloy metal, which maintains the cool temperatures needed for our food.”

“How convenient it also blocks scanners.”

“The door is locked.” The Beonid had found the small access.

“Do you expect your vegetables to escape?” Ydru sneered.

Cheryl met his gaze levelly. “If you’ve ever been around children, you know they go everywhere when playing games. We don’t want the door left open accidentally and spoiling the food. Nor do we want a child somehow getting trapped in what can be an extremely cold environment. The door is kept locked for those reasons.”

“I’m sure. Open it.”

Cheryl swallowed. She had no choice but to obey. She went to the voice recognition panel. “Open root storage.”

The door hissed open. Shouting and pointing their weapons, the GC team swept in the space. Ydru followed, shoving Cheryl ahead of him.

The floor and shelves were heaped with bags full of carrots, potatoes, turnips, and the other products the orphanage had grown. They were tipped in the team’s frenzied search, and vegetables scattered over the ground.

They found none of the Kalquorian staff.

“Where are they?” Ydru shrieked, ropes of saliva spraying from his muzzle. He did look rabid then, and Cheryl instinctively took a step back. He grabbed her by the upper arm, hauled her close, and shook her. “Where are they, you Separate bitch?”

“I told you!” She screamed in fury rather than the pain of his brutal grip. “They left! They aren’t here!”

“No sign of the Kalquorians,” the Rekir commander griped, his four spindly arms waving in agitation. “They must have gone to those woods after all.”

“It’ll take forever to search them out,” the Beonid added. “Is it worth the effort?”

They no longer spoke to Ydru with the deference of a commanding officer. They stood there as equals, frowning at each other.

“We have these human females. We can at least take care of them,” Ydru muttered, his amber eyes glaring at Cheryl in loathing.

“What do you mean, take care of us?” She tried to yank free, but the Encan’s grip was implacable.

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