“Easy for you to say,” I grumbled. “You can just smush people without lifting a finger. Some of us need a little help.”
Torran hadn’t donned his helmet yet, so I caught the tiniest hint of a smile before his expression turned serious. “I will protect you. You have my word.”
“Thank you, but that won’t help me if someone smushes you.”
His grimace had a wry twist. “If I go down, then you should already be running,” he said quietly, “because neither of your weapons will help.”
I sighed and left the pistol and blade with the stack of my clothes. I felt naked without a weapon, but Torran was right. If he couldn’t protect me, then escape would be my best chance of survival.
Torran handed me a helmet designed for long hair and showed me how to put it on and remove it. Once it was on, the face shield slid closed and the night vision kicked in. I looked around the workshop now that I could see far better. The kidnappers’ transport was in an area by itself. I could see where Kee and Anja had crawled around under it, removing the shielding to get to the data stores.
Torran put on his own helmet, then held the lev cycle’s hatch and gestured for me to climb in. Inside, a padded seat was meant to be ridden astride. At the front, manual controls were more prominent than the embedded control panel. If I had to guess, this vehicle was very quick and very fun to fly.
And we were going to be tightly pressed together.
“This is the best option?” I asked, my voice muffled by the helmet. When the comm didn’t automatically pick it up, I frowned. I tapped on the side of the transport. I could hear that fine, so the helmet was piping in outside sounds, but it wasn’t transmitting.
“How do I turn on the comm?” I pointed at my mouth in case he couldn’t hear me.
Torran leaned in. “These are untraceable helmets and don’t have comms built in,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Communicating will be easier if I can speak to you telepathically. Will you allow it?”
I froze. The memory of our last interaction was still fresh in my mind. I had not handled myself well. I swallowed down my fear. “Will you be able to read my thoughts?”
“No, I will keep the touch very light. If you want to say something, tap me or make a noise, and I will listen more carefully. If we are separated, you will need to mentally shout to get my attention.”
Alarm slithered through me. “Are we going to be separated?”
“No. But it’s something you should know, just in case.”
“This is such a bad idea,” I muttered. Louder, I said, “Fine. I agree. Don’t break my trust.”
I felt the lightest brush of coolness against my mind, then Torran’s voice whispered directly into my head. “You have my word: your thoughts are your own.”
Goose bumps rose on my arms, and I shook off the strange feeling.
I tapped Torran, so he would listen, and the coolness came back a little stronger. “Are you sure this is the best vehicle?” I asked again. I asked the question aloud because I wasn’t quite comfortable with mental-only communication.
It seemingly worked, because Torran said, “This is the one that won’t be tracked.”
I shivered again and ducked inside. I swung a leg over the seat and sat in the passenger position, such as it was. As much as I wanted to fly the thing—and it was a very great deal indeed—I decided that whatever Torran had to show me took priority over a joyride.
For now.
Torran climbed in, and the narrow cabin immediately felt far more cramped. I moved back as much as I could while he swung his leg over the seat.
I tried to leave space between us, but he reached back and pulled me snug against his back. “The safety system is going to engage. Don’t be alarmed.”
Flexible clamps closed around my ankles, calves, and thighs. I could still move, but not much. Torran was similarly locked in.
“You can hold on to me, or there’s a handle under the seat,” he said. “We’re going to be traveling at speed, so pick whichever is more comfortable and secure.”
I tried the handle under my seat, but it did not feel secure at all, so I tentatively wrapped my arms around Torran’s waist. He pulled them tighter, until I could feel the firm press of his armor under my gloved fingertips.
All of the feelings I’d been trying to ignore came rushing back. We were pressed together about as tightly as two people could be, but I wished the armor wasn’t separating us. I liked Torran, despite everything that stood between us. That alone was enough for my body to get ideas about what we could do when pressed together like this—preferably sans clothes.
Before I could worry about whether Torran had picked up that delicious—and mortifying—thought, the lev cycle rose from the ground. The control panel remained off and a single light indicated that the vehicle was on at all.
“Ready?” Torran asked.
I must have been getting used to his mental voice, because I barely flinched. “Yes.”
He eased the vehicle out of the garage without turning on any external lights. Outside, the starlight was bright enough that the night vision in the helmet made it seem like daytime. I could see, in color, with incredible detail. I wondered if Torran would notice if this armor went suddenly missing when we returned.
Rather than letting the autopilot, if there was one, take over, Torran manually piloted the small craft. As soon as we cleared the residential area, Torran opened the throttle. The lev cycle darted forward, fast and nimble. We floated a meter above the ground, stabilized by an internal gyro and Torran’s skill.
We stayed off the main expressway, which still had some traffic despite the hour, and kept to the smaller, slower roads. Not that Torran paid any mind to a speed limit, assuming there was one.
We wove around the few other transports we encountered, but more often than not, Torran would alter the route rather than passing too close. Clearly, we were trying not to be seen, but it became more difficult the deeper into the city we delved.
The buildings climbed around us, first a dozen stories, then fifty, then more than a hundred. At one of the tallest buildings with an elegant sign in Valovan that I couldn’t read, we turned into a parking garage. Only then did I realize why this street had seemed familiar—I’d watched the kidnapper’s transport emerge from this exact spot.
I looked around with new interest but there wasn’t much to see. Even an alien civilization hadn’t figured out how to make parking garages interesting. A long row of open spots lined one wall. Each spot was marked for storage and retrieval. Park a transport in one, agree to the terms, and the machinery would whisk the vehicle away to an underground storage area. When it was time to leave, the client would request their transport before they left the building above, and the vehicle would be ready and waiting for them.