Bonded

Chapter 42: Trap

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Rey runs into an unexpected complication during a slave rescue.

Rey moves through the crawl space on her hands and knees, keenly aware of every sound she makes— the denting of the metal as she plants one palm, then the other, the rustling of her clothes, even her breath.

Rose is right next to her, moving as carefully as she is, often glancing back.

Rey keeps her eyes forward, seeing just as well through other senses. She feels the nervous energy of the rescues behind her, pictures them moving in twos or threes, shivering.

It's not that cold in here but it is to them, most of them serving slaves who work in the casino. Osean's a temperate planet, balmy days and warm nights, so the casino is open to the air. The rescues have never been in a place like this where the temperature is carefully controlled.

Both Rey and Rose stop dead when they hear a thump behind them, the metal of the crawl space vibrating. They twist back to see the rescues doing the same, everyone looking down the line of people packed tightly in the long, silver tunnel.

Rey hears whispers further down, but she can't see who it is. There are nearly fifty rescues making their way through the space and three more on her team, one in the middle and two at the rear. Someone must've lost their balance, at least she hopes that's what happened.

Rey and Rose keep still, eyes fixed behind them. After a minute, the rescues start to look ahead, a couple of them nodding.

Rey relaxes. She gives a nod, then turns forward, sharing a passing glance with Rose.

They're both on edge, which is good. They should be. They've learned the hard way that a lot can go wrong on a rescue.

They begin moving again, slow and careful, hardly making a sound. They're coming up to a grated section at the top of the crawl space, Rey glancing up as they near it. She can't see much of the facility, but from what she can tell they're currently under a massive laboratory with concrete walls and rows of sleek, cylinder tanks. They've been creeping for nearly ten minutes and haven't heard a sound from above, not a droid, not anything.

What do you know? Rey thinks to herself. That shifty little bugger was right.

Their contact on this planet isn't exactly a man who inspires confidence. He's always nervous, bony fingers tapping incessantly, and he's noncommittal, swearing by one thing then back-tracking a minute later. Even after two of their allies vouched for him, she was still wary.

But here they are, two-thirds of the way through the rescue, and all his information has proved spot on. When he suggested she take the rescues through this facility, she thought he was crazy. This is the most well-guarded place on the planet, a massive processing center that synthesizes spice into some of the most addictive drugs in the galaxy. The slavers employ a veritable army to patrol it, making sure nothing goes in or out that isn't supposed to. She thought they might as well crawl into a death trap.

But so far, their contact was right. The entire facility is empty, shut down until parts come in to fix a problem with the filtration system. The whole place is dead, the machinery laying idle. Supposedly, there are fewer guards at the perimeter, though that has yet to be seen.

Rey continues carefully through the crawl space, trying to be as quiet as possible. The facility may be empty, but they should err on the side of caution. She glances at Rose, catching her turn back from a look at the rescues. Rose squints then raises an eyebrow. Rey can read the expression as easily as if she were speaking— Two thirds of the way through and not a hitch. Since when are they so lucky?