Produced by Al Haines +------------------------------------------------------+ | This work is licenced under a Creative Commons | | Attribution-Non-Commercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 | | Licence. | | | | http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ | +------------------------------------------------------+ HOSTAGE A Terran Empire story by Ann Wilson Copyright (C) 1992 by Ann Wilson Nemra, 2555 CE The crash must've been more realistic than he'd planned, Ranger Esteban Tarlac thought groggily as he regained consciousness. His head hurt where something had hit it, and his body ached in a pattern that matched the crash webbing's. But at least one thing was going according to plan: he'd obviously been captured by the rebels, since he was hanging by his wrists with his arms stretched painfully apart--and only the rebels, on this world, would be willing to risk treating a Ranger with such hostility. He blinked a couple of times, then got his feet under him and straightened, taking the weight off his arms. A look around satisfied him that he was indeed a prisoner of the rebels--and on display in the middle of their base. That detail hadn't been part of his plan, but shouldn't affect it adversely. Even from here, the base looked like the large recreation area it supposedly was; if Tarlac hadn't been familiar with sensor data that showed it was actually close to the equivalent of a planetary defense base, as far as equipment went--personnel were a different matter--he would have thought himself at the main campfire site of a particularly prosperous commercial camping area. "So Your Highness finally decided to honor us by waking up." Tarlac winced inwardly at the sarcasm in the man's voice. It was the first time since he'd become a Ranger that he'd experienced open hostility, though he'd known from the beginning that sooner or later he would. He looked toward the voice, immediately recognizing the older man as Lord Robert Kaplan, second child of Count Jonathan Kaplan and the reported leader of this rebellion. "Your hospitality leaves something to be desired, my Lord. I hope you're giving my pilot and bodyguards better treatment than you're giving me." "In a manner of speaking," Lord Robert said. "They, at least, are in no discomfort." "They're dead?" "I'm afraid so," Lord Robert said. "Not that you would really care." The rebel leader was mistaken there, Tarlac thought grimly. He did care, very much, about the Navy pilot and the four Security Division Marines who had volunteered for the mission that had cost them their lives--but he couldn't let those feelings show. "What do you plan to do with me?"