Defying Mars (The Saving Mars Series) - By Cidney Swanson Page 0,47

how lovely—”

The guard interrupted, very distressed. “I’m sorry Harpreet. We didn’t know you were allergic to …” The guard turned to Pavel, unable to recall the name.

“Xenthophils,” interjected Pavel. “Pull her sleeve up for me,” he ordered the guard.

While the guard fussed with Harpreet’s clothing, Pavel stepped close to apply a med-patch to an exposed part of the guard’s neck. But before Pavel could act, a harsh voice shouted at him from outside the cell.

“Freeze! Hands up in the air!”

The three in the cell did as the shouting man ordered.

“Now turn around where I can see your faces,” he demanded.

Pavel and the guard turned slowly. All color drained from Pavel’s face when he saw the red armor worn by the newcomer.

The prison guard spoke quickly. “Officer, with all due respect, the detainee is facing a life-threatening allergic reaction. The doctor is only trying—”

“Silence,” barked the officer, eyes narrowing.

Pavel swelled with determination. “I’m a doctor,” he said. “The detainee requires immediate emergency intervention.” He waved the med-patch in the air.

“Guard,” said the officer, “Retrieve the packaging from that med-patch and hand it to me. Very slowly.”

Pavel felt his stomach wrench as the guard bent to pick up the wrapper. The med-patch was one used to knock patients out, not treat them for allergic reactions. Would Red Squadron personnel have received training in such matters?

From behind the officer’s clear face-shield, Pavel saw understanding and knew he was caught.

“You’re no doctor,” said the man in red to Pavel. He ordered the prison guard to take Pavel out of the cell. The officer followed the pair out, training his weapon upon Pavel.

Pavel made one last attempt. “The patient’s condition can only be stabilized if she is rendered unconscious, hence the med-patch.”

“I’m no fool, boy,” sneered the red-armored officer.

But as the officer stared Pavel down, recognition dawned upon his face. “Shizer!” he said, his eyes wide. “I’ve just found the Chancellor’s missing nephew.”

The secure turned to the prison guard. “Cuff this man,” he said, indicating Pavel. The officer in red then relayed the information of Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard’s apprehension on a comm line, nodding when instructions came back.

As the cuffs bit into his wrists, Pavel murmured a code phrase. “Without me,” he said. It was the instruction to Ethan, listening via the earpiece, to continue without him.

“What’s that?” demanded the Red Squadron officer.

“Without me …” Pavel hesitated, looking for something to make the phrase seem unimportant. “Without me, detainee Mombasu—”

But he was interrupted by the noise of Harpreet’s cell door, sliding suddenly shut. All three turned to look at the closed door.

“Get the detainee out of that cell,” ordered the officer in red. “Now!”

The guard tried, but he seemed to be having trouble scanning in. The door would not open. Ethan chose this moment to speak remotely in Pavel’s earpiece.

“Do you see a door at the opposite end of the building?” asked Ethan’s remote voice. “If you can see it, please focus your gaze in that direction, toward the surveillance camera.”

Pavel did so.

“You said ‘without me’,” said Ethan’s voice. “Am I to understand that you wish for us to depart without you? Please raise your eyebrows if the answer is yes.”

Pavel raised both brows.

“Harpreet remains in the cell, does she not?” asked Ethan’s voice.

Pavel raised his eyebrows again.

“I am providing a distraction for the guard,” said Ethan’s voice. “Get the officer out of view of Harpreet’s cell and I may be able to save her.”

This time, Pavel nodded his acknowledgment. It was too late for him. But Harpreet deserved a chance.

21

AIN’T NO SKILLED POLITICIAN

Jessamyn arrived at the Galleon and passed through the airlocks into the ship’s habitable section just as Crusty was preparing to leave. He wasn’t wearing his walk-out suit, which sent a shiver along Jessamyn’s spine. The ship was truly being prepared for tomorrow’s launch. She unclasped her helmet, breathing the Galleon’s filtered air. Her nose wrinkled.

“Never smells too good when you start her back up after a rest,” Crusty remarked. “We’re still on the old air filter, too. Decided to just replace the darned thing.”

He seemed undisturbed by Jessamyn’s appearance in the middle of the night.

“New filter’ll be here in a few hours,” he said. “Figured I’d try for some sleep ‘til then. ‘Less you want company?”

Jess shook her head. “I came here to sleep in my quarters. My house is … impossible.”

“Going to get noisy,” said Crusty. “I ain’t sleepin’ in here. Cavanaugh’s got some folks coming by to fuel the ship, switch out the spacesuits in all the quarters for fresh