Table Of ContentAn Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Desperate Alliance
ISBN 9781419914348
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Desperate Alliance Copyright © 2008 Robie Madison.
Edited by Nicholas Conrad.
Cover art by Syneca.
Electronic book Publication January 2008
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in
part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing,
Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal
copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales
is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
D A
ESPERATE LLIANCE
Robie Madison
Robie Madison
Chapter One
The prison lay deep in the Badlands, well over two hundred klics from the nearest
town. The two-seater hovercraft cleared a high-ridged sand dune and there was the
compound, the tan-colored buildings snaking like a camouflaged serpent across the
wide valley. There were no walls. No need when, even in the unlikely event of an
escape, any prisoner would be nothing more than a skeletal carcass long before he
crossed the range of dunes that headed south toward civilization.
Hallie Clearwater cut the engines, letting the craft dead-drop nine meters to ground
level. Then, using the momentum of the steep glide, she steered the craft toward the
electronic guard post. Despite the lack of walls, hidden sensors rimmed the perimeter of
the prison compound ready to detect those persons attempting either to leave or arrive
unannounced. One retina scan and voice recognition ID later she was directed to the
Warden’s office. Despite the double locking system, three armed guards took up posts
around the hovercraft while a fourth escorted her into the administration center.
The few moments she spent exposed to the parched heat of the desert sun did little
to dry the thin sheen of sweat that soaked her skin. Intense dread slithered like a live
entity down her spine. She did not like this place. Couldn’t imagine being locked up in
here for a day, let alone a year. Or years. But she’d had little choice about coming.
This visit was the most vital step in ensuring a successful mission, yet it was also
the one with the greatest risks because she had the least control over the situation.
While she took gambles just about every day of her life, she hadn’t liked the odds on
this one, despite Governor Rockford’s assurances. But she let none of her concerns
show, aware there were probably cameras everywhere recording everything. In fact,
next to obtaining the Warden’s cooperation, the security cameras posed the biggest
threat to the success of her negotiations.
She was kept waiting. Not a good sign. Or one intended to set the record straight
because out here the Warden’s rule was supreme even if he technically answered to
three territorial governors. Hallie surreptitiously rubbed her right hand against her pant
leg. She didn’t intend demonstrating any evidence of her nervousness to the Warden.
Twelve minutes later she was ushered into his opulent office. That was definitely
the only word to describe the carpets, artwork, furniture and greenery that adorned the
large cool space. For how many prisoners, she wondered, was this lush oasis the last
glimpse they had of civilization before facing a living hell?
“How may I help you, Ms. Clearwater?” The Warden, a tall, lean man who wore a
dapper suit and a killer smile, extended his hand.
His charm was a wasted effort. She was here on a mission and he was merely an
obstacle to her success.
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Desperate Alliance
“Thank you for seeing me.” As expected, the Warden’s grip was stronger than was
strictly polite, but nothing she couldn’t handle. His actions were pure posturing. She
already knew he was enhanced, just as he must be aware that she was.
“I’m here to see Prisoner Highcliff,” she said and reached into her belt pouch.
“You’ll find the necessary data concerning his parole on this.” She handed him a slim
vid-disc and held her breath. Normally she’d be left in some reception area to twiddle
her thumbs while the “paperwork” was processed and the prisoner retrieved before
being handed over to her custody, but this parole came with a very unusual caveat.
Without comment the Warden walked around his desk and inserted the disc into
his computer. He kept the volume too low for her to hear the words clearly, but she
recognized Governor Rockford’s gravelly voice. The Warden’s obsession with privacy
didn’t bother her. She already knew the gist of the communiqué even if she’d never
heard the actual message. He played the vid twice before he looked at her again. And
he stayed on his side of the desk, keeping a physical distance between himself and what
he clearly saw as a potential disaster.
“Women are not allowed in the male sector, nor do we have any visitors’ rooms,”
he told her.
For all of two seconds Hallie was tempted to kick a hole in his hardwood desk to
show him the full extent of her enhancements, but quickly talked herself out of the
stunt. While it might knock the pompous ass down a peg or two and make her feel
better, it would also likely get her ass kicked off the compound without Highcliff. So she
gave him a helpless shrug instead and kept her mouth shut.
Unfortunately the Warden’s enhanced vision meant he rarely needed to blink. She
lost that round in the flicker of an eye, however, in the end, there wasn’t much he could
do but comply with Governor Rockford’s extraordinary request. Hallie waited in
silence while he sent his instructions via computer to the male sector’s command post
and then called in the guard.
“Stiles will escort you to Interrogation Room One,” he announced. “You only get
five minutes.”
She nodded—with any luck she’d only need two minutes, tops—and followed the
guard out the door.
Okay, maybe the Warden wasn’t such a pompous so-and-so but pretty damn smart
because he hadn’t asked her why she needed to see Highcliff first if he was about to be
released into her custody. She knew darn well that Governor Rockford hadn’t told him
in the communiqué, which meant the Warden had quickly decided it was best not to
know. Of course she also wouldn’t put it past him to vid-tape what happened in the
interrogation room rather than stick to audio-record—or ignore the irregularity
altogether—in the hope of learning what this was all about.
Despite her gender the two male guards at the command post patted her down and
she was forced to surrender her belt and her jacket although neither contained any
weapons. Fortunately she’d chosen to wear form-fitting pants, low-cut boots and a
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Robie Madison
tailored shirt, so the entire procedure was fairly impersonal because it was obvious she
had nowhere to hide anything. She was less enamored with the honking huge assault
rifle her escort felt it necessary to arm himself with before leading her to the
interrogation room.
All right, the prisoner was a convicted killer, but he’d spent the last year of his life in
solitary. Since the Warden operated the prison as an ultra-maximum security facility
that meant that solitary was literally a deep, dark hole in the ground, undoubtedly with
rats or worse as cell mates. So just how dangerous was Highcliff?
Not very, as it turned out, because he was pinned—arms outstretched, his legs
spread hip width apart—by an electronic force field. He was the only thing in the small,
drab room and in spite of previously studying the stats on the man, Hallie found him a
sorry specimen.
His six-foot-one-inch frame had sunken in on itself from too little food and lack of
exercise and his eyes were glazed over from the pain the force field exerted on his body.
Although the guards who’d dragged him out of the hole had given him a brand new
jumpsuit, what skin she could see was sallow and encrusted with a year’s worth of
grime.
In a word, he stank.
Worse, he looked useless.
But she was unwilling to admit defeat without at least trying to negotiate.
“Release him and then you can leave,” she told Stiles, who proceeded to shift his
gun while sputtering a protest. Which made her wonder if the gun hadn’t been
intended to protect him against her. An intriguing notion, but one she didn’t have time
to waste on. Subtly she shifted into a fighting stance. She wasn’t being as stupid as the
move made her look. She was counting on the fact that the Warden wouldn’t want to
explain the mess on his walls when his guard was killed in an altercation with a guest
who had strong ties with a territorial governor.
Sure enough, Stiles cocked his head and, after listening to some instruction
communicated through his earpiece, backed out of the room. The second the door
closed, the force field was shut off and the prisoner dropped to the floor in an
ignominious heap.
Aware that precious seconds were ticking by, Hallie stalked across the room toward
the man. She was less than a meter away when the sound of his voice, cracking from
disuse, stopped her.
“Back off.”
She waited while Highcliff shoved himself onto his knees and then staggered to his
feet. Her patience ended when he stood staring at her. Though his body swayed like a
palm tree in a gale force wind, there was no doubt in her mind that he was assessing
her. Gone was his pain-induced fog and she found herself gazing into a pair of very
alert, intelligent hazel-colored eyes.
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Desperate Alliance
In one continuous move she grabbed the front of his jumpsuit with her left hand,
shoved him and lifted him several centimeters off the floor before pinning him against
the wall. He choked on his raspy breath.
“I’ll make this real simple for you,” she whispered. Ignoring the danger of keeping
her back to the door, she made sure she faced him head-on so only he could see her lips
move. Still, a trickle of sweat slid between her breasts and she sent a silent prayer that
the static-disrupter concealed in a row of grommets on her shirt collar was doing its job.
If the Warden was vid-taping this he’d get a good show but no amount of filtering
would decipher her words.
“Governor Rockford is offering you a ‘get out of jail free’ card if you help me catch
the PHF traitor responsible for the bombing. The offer’s good for the next ten seconds.”
Eighteen months ago a bomb had destroyed a neutral-zone farmhouse, killing three
people and wounding eleven others. The event had also created a climate of distrust
that had effectively ended negotiations between Governor Rockford and the Pure
Human Faction. Most citizens in the territory aligned themselves with one of the
environmental or developmental factions that sought to influence government policy.
Over the past fifteen years, however, the PHF, a pseudo-political group, had gained
momentum on an increasingly fanatical platform of biological purity. Dissatisfied with
the government’s continued funding of nanotechnological and bionic research the PHF
had sought to create an autonomous region in the central-western sector of the Atlantic
Coastal Territory.
Highcliff’s eyes flicked up over her shoulder toward the corner of the ceiling,
proving her second assessment of the man was the correct one. He might be in bad
shape, but he had his wits. And, other than confirming her supposition that they were
probably being vid-taped, he’d managed to conceal his reaction to her offer. Not quite
what she’d expected from a man who’d just been handed a chance to escape life in a
hellhole.
“You’re a CHIP,” he murmured.
Hallie gritted her teeth. That comment she should, unfortunately, have expected.
His past association with the PHF gave her a pretty good idea of his feelings toward
her. The PHF were vocal in their dislike and often downright hatred of CHIPs, hence
their desire for their own CHIP-free community.
However, she had no intention of apologizing for who she was. Born with several
congenital defects to a pure human couple, her parents had done the only thing they
could to save her life and sought a sponsorship in the government-run CHIP program.
Like nearly half of the territorial population she was a Cellular enHanced robotIcs
Person, her defects not only corrected but intensified at the cellular level using
nanotechnology, thus giving her superhuman abilities. The greater strength in her left
arm was one consequence of the procedure.
“That’s right,” she said. “Get over it.”
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Robie Madison
Despite the slight tremors that racked his body and betrayed his vulnerable
physical condition, he actually chuckled. The sound was harsh, definitely mirthless.
And then, as if he needed to steady himself, he reached out and touched her. In point of
fact his hand brushed against her breast before it slid away and came to rest at her
waist. The suddenly intimate connection shocked her and it took all her strength to
retain her grip on him. There was no way the maneuver hadn’t been deliberate and yet,
given his condition and his precarious position on the wall, her suspicion could be
difficult to prove.
“I’ll make it real simple for you,” he said, keeping his head low so his mouth would
be obscured from any camera angle. “I get you while we search for this traitor and my
name is cleared when we find him.”
Hallie’s pulse jumped a notch. The man had balls, setting his terms as if he were the
one in a position to negotiate. He was definitely not what she’d expected and his actions
weren’t so difficult to prove after all. His grope had been a downright blatant
proposition, which didn’t quite match her recent assumption about his views on CHIPs.
Seemingly of its own volition her gaze drifted down the man’s body. The loose-
fitting jumpsuit and his stench should have prevented her imagination from conjuring
images of him naked, of his penis long and thick and jutting out proudly. Ready and
eager for…
She closed her eyes briefly, disgusted with the direction of her thoughts. Okay, so it
had been awhile. A long while. She opened her eyes and stared up at the man’s grubby
face. Actually his complexion was two-toned, suggesting that when he’d been pulled
from the hole he’d been sporting facial hair. So he’d been cleaned up some, but the
Warden seemed to be hedging his bets about Highcliff’s future in case this meeting
didn’t end as expected.
In front of her Highcliff quirked a feeble grin at her discomposure. “Offer’s good for
five more seconds.”
She swallowed her hesitation. A year ago when Governor Rockford had put her on
his team, she’d vowed she’d do whatever she had to to bring the traitor to justice. If
anything, the intervening year had strengthened her resolve. She set Highcliff back on
the floor.
“Deal,” she said before releasing her hold on him.
“Deal,” he answered, sealing their bargain.
* * * * *
If it was possible, Highcliff looked in worse shape clean than he had when he was
filthy. He’d obviously been taken to a sonic shower, water being at a premium out here
in the middle of nowhere, and cleaned up and deloused. He was now dressed in a pair
of baggy drawstring pants and a white T-shirt, which made his skin seem even grayer
than it had before. The only thing about him that looked better was his short, spiky hair,
which had changed from a mud-brown to a dirty blond. Flanked by two guards, he was
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Desperate Alliance
still moving under his own steam despite the titanium hand and leg cuffs and the
length of chain attaching them together, thereby restricting his movements even further.
The grim set of his mouth suggested he wouldn’t last much longer though, his pride be
damned.
Hallie had long since retrieved her jacket and belt from the command post and been
escorted back to the administration center. Not surprisingly, the Warden had met her in
the utilitarian entranceway. He hadn’t commented on what had transpired between her
and the prisoner, but she’d guessed depriving her of another glimpse of his office was a
way of punishing her for intimidating his guard and giving him an administrative
headache.
She couldn’t have cared less. She wanted out. The sooner the better even though
she was now facing a complication she hadn’t planned on—namely an apparently
horny prisoner with a mind of his own.
Regardless of his personal feeling on the matter, the Warden handed her a vid-disc
containing the statements of release necessary to process the parole. She knew because
she’d played the disc on her portable mini-screen, not wanting to chance any last-
minute hitches. This part of the plan had to look very real. Besides, once she’d left this
place, she never intended to return.
Which was probably the way Highcliff felt too when he and his guards followed
her outside to her hovercraft, because his shuffling pace increased ever so slightly as he
neared the doors. Except he immediately ducked his head and winced against the
sudden harsh brightness even though they were in the shadow of the building. His legs
didn’t work any better out here than they had indoors either and he stumbled across
the uneven sandy surface, barely able to keep himself upright. The guards offered no
assistance and she didn’t dare drop back and help.
Her craft was still being zealously guarded, but the two men and one woman stood
aside when she approached. She quickly deactivated the outer lock and flipped up the
passenger-side door. The hover was a low-slung vehicle, which meant it would have
been difficult for a man of Highcliff’s height to seat himself unassisted. In cuffs and
chains the task was nearly impossible but he gave it his best shot, half falling into the
seat and then jerking his body into a sitting position before swinging his legs around
onto the floor. She promptly slammed the door shut and activated the special lock to
comfort the guards, though she doubted Highcliff would want to escape the vehicle that
was about to take him away from this place. One of the guards handed her a set of keys
also made from titanium—and therefore resistant to corrosion—that would unlock the
cuffs and chain. The guard gave her her instructions. She could release the prisoner
once she’d left the compound and he was officially her responsibility.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, she pressed her right hand onto a panel to the right of
the dashboard to deactivate the second locking device. While she waited for her prints
to scan she regarded her passenger. He sat slumped in his seat, his head resting against
the back, his eyes closed. In profile and reposed his features were softened, giving her a
glimpse of what he once must have looked like when he’d been in better shape. With
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Robie Madison
his sharply defined cheekbones, straight nose and square chin he wasn’t the most
handsome man she’d ever met, but then she remembered his eyes. The intelligence
hidden in their depths added a certain air of rakish charm that was probably lethal
when he turned it on.
She might have thought he’d fallen into an exhausted sleep if his right hand hadn’t
been clenched into a fist. At the sight, she admitted a certain begrudging respect for the
man. Despite the abuse and the suffering he’d experienced during his year of
incarceration, he hadn’t given up. Wasn’t giving up. Was in fact hanging on to
whatever reserves of strength he could muster to make damn sure she got them the hell
out of here.
She couldn’t agree more, not that she was about to extend much sympathy toward
the man himself. He’d immediately assessed that she needed him as much as he needed
her and made his demands accordingly. And he was right, damn him, she did need him
for this mission. So, while he might be grateful for this unexpected opportunity, his
behavior so far suggested he wasn’t going to quietly follow her lead. All of which
meant, having successfully accomplished part one of Plan A, she was already
contemplating a switch to Plan B to see the mission through to its conclusion.
The panel finally beeped its approval, her passenger’s body twitched with
unreleased tension and she hit the button that would boost the solar power to the
hover’s engines. The guards had already retreated a safe distance from the craft so she
hauled in the tether cable. Adjusting the gear, she eased the vehicle forward, retracing
the route to the guard post at a leisurely pace. Once the craft received clearance,
however, she didn’t waste time. Shooting forward in a southerly direction along the
valley floor so she’d be well away from the compound, she maneuvered a three-sixty
spin and then shot straight up and straight north. Even so, the little craft barely cleared
the first sand ridge, but it did and they lost their view of both the valley and the prison.
* * * * *
“Stop.”
They’d been traveling for little more than thirty minutes when Hallie heard her
passenger’s harsh command.
“What?” She glanced over at him, surprised to see his eyes open. She’d thought he
really had fallen asleep after takeoff.
“Stop. Please.” The last word was barely a whisper and she noticed he was
clutching his stomach.
A couple of choice words came to mind, idiot being the nicest in the lot. She eased
up on the engines and glided as swiftly as possible to a halt. Without asking she
immediately released the passenger door hatch. Nor did he wait for her permission to
leave the craft, tumbling out onto the sand on his hands and knees before retching. She
scrambled out of her seat and around the craft, dropping to his side.
To offer comfort?
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