Claimed by Cipher (Grabbed Book 5) Page 4

  “This probe is flexible. It has a tiny lens at the end that can capture clear and detailed images if you’re access is very small.”

  “It’s tinier than my finger!” She seemed astounded by the piece of technology she held. Her expression turned serious. “I can do this,” she assured him. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

  “No, I’m sure you won’t,” he agreed. Reluctant to leave her alone in this cabin but aware of the time crunch he was under, he finished up what he had come here to do. She let him take the maps and thanked him again for the rations before walking him to the door. Staring down at her, wondering if this might be the only time he would ever see her, he said, “Brook, be careful. Your life is your own, and if you aren’t comfortable risking it, you can change your mind. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Promise me that you will abort your mission if it’s too dangerous.”

  “I promise, Cipher.”

  With a final, clipped nod, he turned his back on her and left the cabin. Every step he took tried his willpower. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to turn back, snatch her up and bring her back to the Valiant with him. Somehow, he managed to muscle through that dark desire and make it back to the rendezvous point.

  As the ship lifted away from the planet and ascended to vast coldness of space, he couldn’t help but feel that he had just made the worst decision of his life.

  Chapter Two

  Brook leaned back against the locked door and tried to slow her racing heart. In all her days, she had never felt what she did right now. The moment she had heard his voice in the darkness something inside her had flared to life. Commanding. Strong. Patient. His voice promised safety and security.

  When she finally saw his handsome face, she had been struck by an unexpected realization. The reason no man had ever interested her was because she had been waiting for this man. Cipher. The sky warrior who came to her for help in saving his friend.

  The man who had turned down her clumsy attempt at hinting that she was interested in more from and with him.

  Groaning with embarrassment, she pushed off the door and started tidying up the cabin. What did she expect? That a man who could have any woman he wanted would take her? All the painful memories of teasing and bullying from her childhood reared their ugly heads. She had always been too skinny, too short, too dirty and too poor. Her hand-me-down men’s clothing never fit correctly. Unlike the other girls she knew from the mining camps, she had never blossomed with curves.

  Standing by the table, she let her hand drift down the front of her body, gliding over her small breasts and flat belly. Her hips weren’t any better, and her bottom wasn’t the sort that turned heads. Plain. Boring. Simple.

  Maybe he was right. Maybe her future was in the colonies. Yet, the idea of going so far away where she knew no one terrified her. She had been alone in her cabin for seventeen months. She was used to the silence and emptiness that surrounded her. She never felt lonely here.

  But the colonies? She would be utterly alone. She wasn’t sure she was brave enough for a new start like that. Where would she live? Where would she work? Would she make friends? Find someone to love her? Would she ever have the family she yearned for so deeply that it made her stomach ache and her chest constrict?

  Feeling dejected and overwhelmed, she finished tidying up and locked away the rations and equipment he had left her in a secret cabinet. She couldn’t risk someone breaking into the cabin and finding any evidence that a sky warrior had been here. Even though the drink was terrible, she made herself finish it rather than toss it out and waste it. She gagged at the end of it and wondered if all of their food tasted like this.

  As big as Cipher was, she didn’t think that was likely. He didn’t look like he had ever missed a meal. She couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like under his uniform. She had seen naked men before, but she doubted she had ever seen one that compared to him. The men who stripped out of their soiled mining clothes and jumped into the river near the outlet of the pit to rinse off the grime and sweat of a hot day were wiry and lean. She suspected Cipher had muscles in places she had never even imagined.

  Feeling ridiculously hot but foolish for her infatuation with a man who would never want her, she doused the lamps and moved through the pitch black of the cabin to the bedroom. She peeled out of her pants and socks but kept her shirt before sliding under the frayed and faded quilt her mother had made so many years ago. She curled onto her side and closed her eyes, listening to the soothing sounds of the forest until she finally fell asleep.

  In the morning, she woke early, before sunrise, and immediately started hacking. The dry cough that plagued all miners had started to wake her more mornings than she cared to count. Like everyone who worked in the dust and damp, she expected to die young of Purple Lung. There was no use worrying about it. It was something to accept as inevitable.

  She had another one of Cipher’s rations after she changed into clean clothing for the day. Not wanting to lose her nerve, she contacted the spaceship as instructed, grabbed her small pack of climbing gear, her mining helmet and the camera Cipher had given her. She locked up the cabin and trudged off into the cool darkness, working her way down the trails until she reached the ridge just above the Drowning Door.

  Low on her belly, hidden under brush, she surveyed the area. From her position, she had a clear view of the ventilation shaft she had chosen as her entryway into the mine. This one had been all but forgotten. Brush had grown overtop and dirt was mounded against the sides. There were other shafts, easier to access and wider, but they were too close to the front of the mine’s opening. She would rather deal with the tight squeeze of the smaller shaft than risk running into the men patrolling the front of the mine.

  There had been rumors up and down the mountain that the Splinters had taken it over and were using it as a base. Always too nosy for her own good, she had investigated those rumors for herself shortly after hearing them. It hadn’t taken her long to determine the rumors were true. She had counted less than twenty men that first day. Unable to stay away for long, she had come back every few weeks to check on the situation.

  Not knowing what to do with her information, she had gone to the only person her father had ever trusted—an older woman down the mountain in Yellow Moss Holler named Miss Kay. Her father had never been political, but he had done small jobs here and there for the Red Feather. They were a secret group who worked against the planet’s oppressive government. Sometimes, the Red Feather worked with the sky warriors who patrolled above the planet and were locked in a protracted civil war with the so-called Splinters.

  Miss Kay had taken her information and relayed it to someone else above her in the chain. Soon, Miss Kay started asking her to go to different spots around the mountain to get a better look at the mine. She counted vehicles and men, noted the numbers of deliveries and their shapes and sizes. For her work, she was given a few pieces of extra scrip to use in the company store. There wasn’t as much work in the pit where she was employed so the little bit of extra income had kept her from starving the last few months.

  And, now, here she was, scooting forward on her belly to the entrances of the ventilation shaft. Miss Kay had introduced her to the Red Feather fixer named Danny who had given her the chance to escape life on the mountain. All she had to do was help the sky warriors obtain enough intel to plan their rescue mission and, possibly, plant some explosives as a diversion. If she did those things, she would be given a new life in the colonies or as a mate to one of the sky warriors.

  Just not the sky warrior she had embarrassingly flirted with last night.

  Her face flamed as she replayed the memory of her awkward attempt to show her interest. She hadn’t ever flirted before, hadn’t ever wanted to really. She had felt impossibly naïve and silly, but there was no going back to change her first impression. Not that it mattered anyway. He had been abundantly clear that she wasn’t the sort of woman any of their m
en would want.

  Ignoring the stab of pain at that thought, she listened carefully before cautiously lifting the grate covering the forgotten vent. She placed it on the grassy area to the right and covered it with twigs and leaves to make sure it wouldn’t glint in the sun and rouse suspicions. Peering down into the shaft, she noticed the lights that were supposed to illuminate the space had long ago died. She wasn’t afraid of the dark or tight spaces so it didn’t bother her as much as it might have someone else.

  With her small pack almost flat on her back and the camera Cipher had given her dangling around her neck, she put on her helmet and tucked one leg and then the other into the shaft. Her boots found the rusty rungs lining one wall of the shaft. Slowly and trying to make as little noise as possible, she descended down into the darkness until the pale light of sunrise faded to nothing and the black silence of the shaft enveloped her.

  At the end of the ladder, she stepped onto the flat platform and crouched. She flicked on the lamp attached to her helmet, expecting to see the turn of fan blades. Judging by the amount of rust on the blades, they hadn’t been maintained. She gave one of them a push, and it didn’t budge. Glad that she had one less problem to handle, she stepped back and unzipped her pack of climbing gear. She quickly pulled on the harness and ran her fingers over the ropes and anchors inside the pack to reassure herself she had everything she needed.

  Ready to descend deeper into the ventilation shaft, she squeezed through the space between the two large blades and moved into the ventilation duct. The chipped stone walls of the duct were dirty and damp. Air wasn’t moving properly anymore, and the humid, dank wetness was allowing mold and mildew to breed. Her knees and hands slid in the slippery gunk, and she grimaced at the foul smell surrounding her.

  While the smell and feel of the duct was disgusting, she was more concerned about what she would find up ahead. If the shaft didn’t have proper airflow, was there a blockage ahead? A cave in?

  When she reached the end of the straight duct, she had a choice to slide down one incline to the right or the other to the left. She flatted out on her belly and let her head hang over the edge the platform. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply from each side. On the right, the air felt warmer and smelled of decay and death. To the left, the air seemed cooler and fresher.

  She settled on the left and shimmied until her feet were hanging over the edge of the platform. She maneuvered her pack off of her back and onto the stone floor in front of her. Using the lamp on her helmet, she looked along the walls until she found the metal anchors permanently fixed to them. She took her time fixing her anchor ropes and tested them three times before sliding back and rappelling down the shaft to the next level. It was a nearly straight drop, and she didn’t look forward to the climb out that awaited her.

  At the next level, she reached across the shaft to the square access window into the actual metal ducts that carried air through the mine’s upper section. She tacked her ropes to the metal wall of the duct using a magnet and carefully wiggled out of her harness, boots and belt. She couldn’t risk the metal clanging or scraping against the bottom of the duct as she crawled. She put her things inside her helmet and placed them next to her ropes.

  Although the camera would take the photos she needed, properly surveying the ducts and rooms below would require pencil and paper. She reached into her pack for both and then cracked a glow stick from her pack. It was rated to last twelve hours, but from her experience in the mines, she knew it was more like eight. Nothing that came out of the company store was worth a damn.

  Holding the stick between her teeth, she used her body length as a measurement. She carefully counted the lengths until she reached the first bend in the duct. After scribbling the measurement on the paper, she followed the bend into the next length of straight ductwork.

  The metal surrounding her was slick with mildew and stank of rust. The smell made her gag at first, but the slimy film made it easier for her to move without making noise. The fire suppression system supply lines ran the length of the duct works. The pipes were old and failing, dripping water steadily into the ducts. She wondered why the men living in the mine didn’t seem to care about the mold and mildew and filthy water dripping down into their living spaces.

  As quietly as possible, she eased toward the first register. The grille was caked in filth, but she was able to see into a dimly lit room below when she pressed her face against the metal slats. Inside the room, there were stacks of canned and dry goods and medical supplies. She worked the tiny finger-like probe between the slimy grates to get a clear recording of the room’s contents before continuing her journey.

  The next grille was over a room packed to the brim with weapons. Certain Cipher would want to know exactly what was in this makeshift armory. Worried the photos she was taking might be inadequate, she wrote down any numbers or designations she could see on the crates of weapons and hastily sketched the others that were mounted on wall racks. The thought that Cipher might be injured if she failed to bring back the best intel made her extra diligent in her note taking.

  Satisfied she had captured everything in the room, she moved along to the third register. Even before she reached it, she could hear voices. She hastily tucked the glow stick into her back pocket to block the light from reaching the grille. Holding her breath, she eased forward until she could see into the room.

  A strange smell tickled her nose. Rather, it wasn’t strange in the sense that it was unknown. It was strange in the sense that it didn’t belong here. The smell of damp hay wafted out of the room below, and it made her slightly woozy to breathe the barely there scent.

  Down in the room, men who looked similar to Cipher in size carted silver crates out the door. All of them wore masks, and she understood that whatever that faint smell was, it was dangerous.

  “Hey, Doc!” One of the masked men below shouted. “What’s the street value on this?”

  “None of your business,” another man answered, his voice muffled and angry. “And don’t fucking call me doc!”

  Not sticking around to breathe in whatever was in those canisters, she snapped pictures while holding her breath and moved along until the voices and the smell faded.

  After making her notes, she continued her survey. Room after room after room yielded information. Most were quarters. One was a kitchen and mess hall. There was a communal bathroom and shower area that was surprisingly clean considering the state of the mine. The laundry facility wasn’t much but she took photos and notes anyway.

  When she followed the duct along the lower portion of the horseshoe shape, she discovered the more important areas of the Splinter outpost. The first three registers overlooked a large space that seemed to be use as their logistics center. The walls were covered in digital boards and screens. Tables in the center of the room were piled with models and projections. Certain this was the most helpful intel she could gather, she took her time and made sure she was thorough gathering photos and scribbling notes.

  Once she moved beyond the logistics area, she discovered the cells. The stench filling the ducts made her stomach pitch violently, and she bit her arm to keep from vomiting. She overpowered the urge to retch and slithered forward in the goo and grime until she could see into the first cell.

  When she saw the naked corpse hanging from its wrists, she gasped and shut her eyes. Like a scared child, she hid her face. It wasn’t the first dead body she had seen, but it was the most gruesome.

  Summoning her courage, she forced herself to look. It was a man. Or had been. A sky warrior if she had to guess. His bloated body and mottled skin made it hard to determine what he had looked like in life. He still had his sandy hair and a scraggly beard. If there were markings or tattoos on his body, she couldn’t see them anymore.

  Was this the man Cipher wanted to rescue? No, she decided quickly. It couldn’t be him. Their man was confirmed to be alive only days ago. This man—whoever he was—had been dead for a long time. A week or more, if
her prior exposure to death and her understanding of decomposition was correct.

  It felt wrong to photograph the corpse. She didn’t like the idea of betraying the privacy of a dead man, but she was sure that the sky warriors would want to identify him if they could. Maybe he had a family, a wife and children. They deserved to know he was gone.

  When she was finished, she closed her eyes and murmured a prayer for his eternal peace. She hadn’t been raised religious like the farmers in the valley, but she had always found comfort in the idea that there was a place where souls rested after the suffering of this world.

  Determined not to let Cipher’s friend die like this man, she crawled as quietly as possible. The middle cell was empty, but up ahead, there was an occupied cell. The harsh bellow of pain confirmed it.

  Eyes wide and stomach trembling, she reluctantly moved forward. A man was being tortured somewhere in front of her. Whatever they were doing to him must have been utterly depraved. He shouted in agony, his voice hoarse as if he had been screaming all day.

  Not sure if she could stand to see what was happening, she hesitated at the grille. The idea that this man was alone and suffering gave her enough courage to finally look.

  And she instantly wished she hadn’t.

  Dangling by his ankles, the man had blood running down his feet and legs and dripping from his fingers. The bloodied pliers on a silver tray of horror filled in the blanks. They had torn out all of his finger and toenails.

  The torturers weren’t stopping there. She watched, terrified, as his tormentors attached metal clips to his genitals and tongue. Her panicked gaze followed the cords attached to the clips. They led straight to a generator. Before she could even process what they planned to do, the monster closest to the generator flipped the switch.

  The captive sky warrior jerked like a fish on a line. His entire body snapped, and an inhuman growl erupted from his throat. She gulped down a sob and pressed her fist to her mouth, painfully smashing her lips against her teeth to stifle the cry that threatened to escape.