Page 101 of Escape Velocity

Chapter Twenty-One

The lights came from flying machines that zoomed into the damp and hovered above the clearing like giant birds of prey ready to strike. From the invading ships, Amber heard the hiss of weapons. Beamer blasts raked the area. Around them, men toppled to the ground or sank to their knees. She could hear them moaning in pain as blood oozed from huge beamer burns. The cries of the wounded made her gasp, but not as much as the silent men—the ones who lay still—absolutely still, their bodies limp and twisted. At the edges of the clearing women were screaming. One ran toward her man and was felled by an angry blast. The others shrank back lest they suffer the same fate.

When some of the men tried to escape from the killing field, a harsh voice from above boomed out, “Don’t move, or you will all be killed.”

Everyone froze.

It was happening so fast that Amber had no time to process the disaster.

Behind the lights, she could see two flying ships hovered over the crowd, sending bursts of fire around the edge of the clearing to make it clear that no one should cross that line. Another flyer landed, and four men wearing dark blue uniforms with a gold crest on the left side of their chest emerged.

They marched toward where she, Max, and Rafe were standing.

“You don’t have to sneak up on Commissioner Tudor’s compound,” one of them barked. “We are taking you there directly.”

Amber watched in horror as the men in blue disarmed and searched Max and Rafe and led them toward the air car. One of the others grabbed Amber and brought her along.

The remaining guards, walked backwards toward the ship, spraying the ground with beamer blasts as they went.

In moments she, Max and Rafe were in the ship.

One invader stopped before reaching the ship where the fugitives were being held. He whirled toward the swamp rats. “If you are stupid enough to follow us, more of you will get blasted. And we will come back to destroy this miserable settlement.”

Turning, he climbed into the ship and signaled to the pilot. They lifted off and skimmed over the trees. All too soon, in the light from the moons, Amber saw a large white structure looming in the distance.

She fought not to tremble as she stared at the forbidding house that looked nothing like the drawing Henri had showed them. Those had held no hint of the fortress confronting her. She shuddered, thinking that if she went inside, she would not come out alive.

They landed, and the door of the ship opened.

“Get moving.”

She might have tried to run, if she hadn’t been afraid she would get Max and Rafe killed.

They were shoved out of the ship, and she almost lost her balance. But one of the guards caught her arm and jerked her up. She was hustled toward a high, wide doorway, and as she stepped through, her fear rose to clog her throat.

She looked around the entrance chamber that had been a flat rectangle on paper. Now she saw that it was a massive room, bigger than any of the huts in the swamp rat camp.

Every aspect of the interior screamed “obscene luxury.” The ceiling was impossibly high. The walls and floor were of polished stone, glowing in places where hidden lights were positioned. Against one wall was an intricately carved wooden side table with a metal vase of flowers, of all things.

It felt like several centuries passed before a man emerged from a door at the other end of the room.

This had to be the powerful Elgin Tudor, although he didn’t look particularly impressive. He was not tall. His face had a slightly pudgy look, his eyes were red-rimmed, and his hair was an unnaturally dark black from the dye he apparently applied to maintain the color. He was dressed casually in a gray tunic, pants and high leather boots.

His gaze flicked to Max and Rafe, then focused on her. She didn’t have to fake a wave of terror as she confronted him. This was a man who took pleasure from hurting women. From torturing them to death. Sickened by everything he represented, she lowered her head, giving a good impression of the cowering slave she was supposed to be.

“You are not permitted to hide your face. Raise your head for your new master,” Tudor ordered, his voice sharp. When she didn’t comply immediately, the man holding her wedged a hand under her chin and jerked her head up, making her neck muscles pull sharply and her ears ring with the sudden movement.

She watched Tudor sweep his gaze over her body, stopping at her hips and waist. “Take the vest off her,” he ordered the man who held her. The guard roughly yanked the garment off her and tossed it to the floor.

The master of the house grinned as he ogled her breasts.

“Who prettied you up for me?”

When she shrugged, his voice rang out. “Answer me.”

“The women.”

“Why?”

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