The Siege of New Terra (Star Sojourner Book 7) by Jean Kilczer Page A

came around the counter, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. “Yeah, boss?” His pale eyes were wide. His soft jowls shook as he talked. His hands trembled on the towel.
    “Bring the prisoners some food. Two Denebs. Two Kubs, and a BEM. Can you suit them with the sous chef?”
    Salo nodded. “Right away, boss.” He hurried back around the counter as though it were a protective barrier, hit his broad hip on the jutting corner, yelped, and turned on the sous chef.
    Big Mack folded his arms across his chest and nodded at my dishes.
    I cut a piece of steak and ate it. “Yum. My compliments to the chef. He wouldn't happen to have cannoli?”
    “What the hell's cannoli?”
    “Never mind.”
    I couldn't help a slight smile as I ate. I had turned this meal from defeat into a small success and my companions would be taken care of.

Chapter Six
    It was night. I was asleep on a bunk, alone in a locked cell, when four guards came to the barred door. I got up quickly as one unlocked it and turned on the light. I squinted at them. Big Mack was being careful not to leave me alone with fewer than four. I was ready to try my tel power on three minds at once, though that was always a stretch. Four was beyond me.
    “C'mon,” a lanky guard said as the door creaked open.
    I hesitated. “Where are we going?”
    “You'll find out when we get there.”
    “Take your jacket,” another guard said softly. “The nights are cold.”
    I put it on and let them escort me into the hall. I paused by the next cell, where my five alien companions were being held. They came to the bars.
    “Have they fed you tags?” I asked.
    They nodded, all but Zik, who made a circle with a clawed tentacle. I took it for a “yes.”
    Furro, one of the two Denebs, tall, light-boned and flat-chested, with a high, plated forehead, grasped the bars with reedy, brown-skinned hands. “Are they caring for you, cousin?” he asked me in a lilting tone.
    “So far, cous',” I said.
    “Let's go,” a stocky guard told me.
    I heard the whine and growl of engines before they opened the outer door. Frosty air struck my face. I zipped my jacket.
    In the blackness of night, I watched vague shapes of military vehicles that moved across the grounds. Their headlights raked dirt as they formed a column. The familiar smell of electrical equipment whirring within the engines drifted on winds generated by attack hovairs that circled above us.
    I was led to a large jeep where two stiff, glowing flags sporting the pirates' Jolly Roger jutting from front fenders.
    “The flag jeep?” I asked.
    “Just get in the back,” the stocky guard ordered.
    “What?” I said. “No gun?”
    “Just get in!” He slapped my shoulder.
    I swung into the rear seat.
    The driver, his face hidden by night, with two tags seated beside him, turned his head. “Strap in,” he said. "It's going to be a rough ride.
    I did.
    Would they trust me with just three tags? I could only hope so.
    I formed a tel coil as the driver headed for a tall building, and threw the probe in a wide radius as I searched for my team. My limit was about fifteen miles, but all I picked up were the minds of animals as they stirred and trotted off into deep woods for the night's hunt.
    Once we were past the outer gate, I would try for a tel-link on the three tags and direct them to stop the jeep, leave their weapons behind and get out.
    It was a nice plan, until the jeep pulled up at the entrance of the tall building and Big Mack emerged and slid into the jeep beside me.
    He was silent and grim as the driver took us to the head of the column and drove through the open gate and onto a dirt road between trees. The column followed.
    “Do your job tonight,” Mack told me, “and you'll be rewarded for it.”
    “What might the job be?” I asked.
    He put on leather gloves, unholstered his stingler and checked it. The charge light was green. “You'll find out on a need to know basis.”
    “Is this a night foray or will we meet up