The Daughters
of Persephone
A Space Opera
J. R. Barrett
* * *
Copyright © 2012 J. R. Barrett
All Rights Reserved
Exile, Return, Reborn, and The Red Demon © 2010, J. R. Barrett
Ebook Production: JW Manus Ebooks=Real Books
This book is dedicated to my husband, who shares my love of science fiction and fantasy, and to Firefly fans everywhere.
The author would like to acknowledge the hard work and obssessination of JW Manus. She is dedicated to producing beautiful books.
Book I: Exile
“Seven bloody hells, the gravity plating on this deck’s shot. It’ll take two weeks to make these repairs.” Disgusted, the Chief Engineer tossed his scanner back into his tool pack. “If we can even buy the materials on this Gods forsaken rock. We don’t have the time.”
Aja and the First Mate, Davi Fedd, followed his gaze. That section of the exterior hull reflected bright in the desert sun. It looked wet, like a child who had fallen down and skinned his knees. No question about it, their entry and emergency landing had been rough.
“We passed over a trading zone,” said Mr. Fedd. “We may find some gravity plating there. Maybe we can buy something off an old junker.”
Aja watched the Chief roll his eyes. It was obvious to her he had no respect for the man who’d taken the helm.
“Until Captain Aram recovers, you’ll follow my orders, Chief, whether you like it or not, and you have two days to make these repairs.”
Aja knew the First Mate wanted to add, you fucking asshole, but he didn’t.
“Roll out the bird,” ordered Mr. Fedd. “Let’s scout a bit. Aja, you stay with the ship. Check on the captain. He might be feeling well enough to eat something.”
Aja nodded. She’d do whatever she could to help out. They’d crash landed because of her. Because of her, they were hiding from the Coalition. Captain Aram was ill because of her. He’d been exposed to the lethal virus intended for her. It was only due to the fact she’d managed to steal two vials of the antidote that he was recovering.
Chief Wyer shot her a dirty look. He didn’t bother to disguise his hatred. If he could off-load her or even kill her and get away with it, he would. Of that she had no doubt.
Even if Aja hadn’t been a Seer, born and bred of the Blood, the man’s thoughts were as plain as the nose on his face. He was very poor at disguising his feelings. Fortunately, he didn’t know who she was, he only understood she was valuable cargo and a third party was paying them a great deal of coin to deliver her safe and sound.
If he knew with any certainty who and what she was, Aja knew she’d already be dead.
She returned to the ship, stopping by the galley to fill a jug with fresh water. Captain Aram would probably be thirsty. His fever had been very high for three days. It had only broken this morning. He hadn’t been able to swallow until a few hours ago, but Aja had been strapped in during their flight. Although she heard his calls, she couldn’t get to his cabin to help him.
The Captain knew who she was and he knew what she was, but fortunately despite his fever and the hallucinations the virus caused, he’d managed to keep the information to himself.
Aja felt both grateful and guilty at the same time. The man had risked his life to save hers and now he risked his ship and his crew. It was small comfort that it was a barebones crew, only Davi Fedd, the First Mate, and the ship’s engineer, Chief Wyer.
With the captain sick, Davi had acted as pilot and engaged the auto-nav. Aja was more than capable of piloting the craft, but she was reluctant to take the helm because Chief Wyer was paranoid enough.
Only women of the Blood were trained as pilots. It was a tradition even the Coalition dare not break. They had to continue the myth they’d created, at least until the generations that remembered passed away. Their propaganda machine promulgated the idea that the Coalition ruled with the Empress’s blessing.
Of course, Aja had never been allowed to fly beyond the confines of the asteroid belt which served as her mother’s court in exile.
Smart of the Coalition in one way, very stupid in another.
It was hard to get anything larger than a small supply ship into the Sauran Asteroid Field so any chance of rescue and return to their home world of Matsu was almost nil. But learning to fly solo within the belt had helped make Aja and her two younger sisters daring pilots. Even their Coalition-assigned instructors had been in awe of their abilities.
Of course, Aja and her sisters had the benefit of generations of genetic engineering. Quick reflexes, perfect vision and an unusually forgiving vestibular system. No motion sickness for her.
Nor did it hurt that Aja could close her eyes yet see the path ahead of her clear as day.
She slid the door open and entered the captain’s spare living quarters. He lay on his side, facing her, eyes open. His face was pale, drawn.
“Everyone all right?” Aram’s voice was hoarse. “How’s my ship?”
“Yes,” Aja replied. “It was a rough landing, but no injuries, at least not to us. The gravity skin got torn up a bit. Davi and the Chief took the bird to the nearest settlement to see if they can scrounge some magnetite for repairs.” She lifted the jug. “Here, let me help you.”
She assisted the captain to a sitting position and held the jug for him. He drank like a man dying of thirst. “Not too much at once. You don’t want it to come back up.”
“By the Gods, I’m not sure I’d care. I feel like I’ve been staked out in the Gona Desert for a week.”
“Close.” Aja managed to suppress a grin. “You came very close.”
Captain Aram closed his eyes and lay back. He’d never been so weak in his life, but at least he felt better than he had the day before, when he had prayed for death.
If this was how the virus behaved after Aja had given him the antidote, he could only imagine the suffering this disease would cause before it killed its victims. If he remembered her words correctly, without the antidote, the virus was fatal one hundred percent of the time.
He hoped she’d managed to smuggle enough of the antidote out with her so the rebel medics could replicate it. Pray the Gods. If he’d only known what he was getting into before he’d agreed to attempt the rescue.
His eyes flew open. “Why didn’t you and Davi get ill? I must have been contagious. Do we have enough of the antidote for the rest of you?”
“It’s all right.” Aja moved to pat his arm, but she stilled her hand. “The particular strain you were injected with isn’t contagious. It’s a test strain only. It dies when you die. But you didn’t die. So in a sense, you are now immune. Think of it as a vaccination, like the medics give to children. You now have lifetime immunity.”
“Because I lived?”
“Yes, because you lived. Can you eat something? I can heat up a mug of broth.”
Captain Aram didn’t answer. He attempted to sit up. Aja leaned close to help him, but he waved her away. “What I’d really like to do is take a piss in the head and not in a jar. You mind? I know I was pretty far gone, but I assume you’ve seen everything I have. I suspect we’ve already passed the point of embarrassment.”
He saw a blush spread over her cheeks. Yes, apparently she had seen everything he had. “I’ll help you,” she offered. “You can lean on me. I’ll close my eyes if you like.”
“Thanks,” Captain Aram replied. “It’s not necessary.” He tossed the coverlet aside. He was naked beneath.
Aja helped him to the edge of the bunk. He sat there for a moment,
getting his bearings. She held his arm, her grip firm, as he stood on shaky legs.
“Let’s go,” he said, winded already, “before I change my mind.”
Kyr rested his weight on Aja. He was a head taller than she was, but leaner than he’d been a week ago for certain. They walked side by side to the small room directly across from the bed. When they reached the door Aja had to duck in first then maneuver him inside after her. He braced himself with both hands against the wall as Aja squeezed around him. He leaned back against her and after a few moments, he relaxed.
Aja had little experience with men. She’d cared for her younger brothers, but until the past week, she’d never seen a grown man naked. It would be unthinkable in her cloistered world. A Princess of the Blood was expected to remain pure and unsullied by the touch of any man until her marriage. Prior to the coup, her mother would have arranged a match. Now any royal marriages would be arranged by the ruling Junta.
Aja was the eldest. She’d known for a long time the Coalition had intended to marry her off to a traitorous pig, some man who would keep her under lock and key for the rest of her life.
Of course, that was before the Junta decided to eliminate the problem of the royal family altogether.
She knew it made sense from the Coalition’s perspective. If you want the body dead, cut off the head.
The Resistance rallied around the restoration of the monarchy. Without an Empress and her family, there would be nothing to fight for. There would be only the day to day struggle for survival.
The captain had finished his piss and Aja assisted him back to his bunk. He practically fell into the mess of blankets.
“Water, please.”
She helped him to drink.
“Where did Davi set her down?”
“In a deep ravine. All power is off and he’s activated the shields. A scan won’t show anything unusual.”
“It was a rough landing.”
“Yes. We skipped along the atmosphere like a pebble on a pond, letting the warships think we’d caught fire and burned up on entry. Davi cut power and glided in. He’s a good pilot.”
“Yes.”
Aja watched Aram’s eyelids grow heavy. “I’ll get you some broth. You really should try to eat something.” She hesitated. “Captain, I didn’t get a chance to thank you properly. You risked your life for me.”
She watched him lick his dry lips. “I did it for the coin…” His voice trailed off.
She knew he lied. “You took a needle for me.”
Eyes still closed, Aram grinned. “I would say better than a bullet, but I’m not entirely sure that’s true.”
“My family, have they been moved out of harm’s way?”
“That was the plan, but I have no way of knowing for sure. Davi’s kept com silence, I assume?”
“Yes.”
“If everything went well, your family will be waiting for you at our destination.”
“Thank you. I pray to the Gods they are safe. And I pray for the safety of all the men who risked their lives to help them.”
As Aja turned to leave the room, the captain called her back to his bedside. “My Lady, I thank you for the antidote, and for playing the part of nursemaid.”
“Duty, Captain. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Is there enough left for our medics to replicate it?”
“Yes. And of course we have you, Captain. Your serum will be quite useful in making a vaccine.”
Captain Aram mumbled, “I’m glad my serum is good for something.”
Aja warmed to the sound of his voice, knowing he attempted a joke. The man might be a smuggler, but he had courage to spare. “Oh, Captain Aram, don’t sell yourself short. I’m quite sure you are good for many things. I owe you my life. There is no way I can repay you for that.”
“I think you already have, My Lady. I doubt helping a sick man to piss in a jar is the standard for a Princess of the Blood.”
“Perhaps not, but I enjoyed the experience immensely.”
Captain Aram’s eyes flew open and his face turned red as a beetroot.
“Please, you must call me Aja, especially in front of Chief Wyer.” She smiled. “Besides, after all this, I see no need for formality between us.”
Aja patted his hand. “I’ll be back in a few moments,” she said, still smiling. “I imagine you’ll wait here.”
The captain waved her away.
Is it possible she’s what they claim? This slip of a girl is the one prophesied to lead them? Is that why she was chosen to carry death back to her family?
Could she truly read his mind and tell his future? The Captain shuddered. He hated witchcraft. She didn’t look like a witch.
Aram folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling of his compact cabin. The woman hadn’t acted as if she’d read his mind. If she had, she’d probably have run screaming. Imagine, a smuggler, a sick one at that, mentally undressing a Princess of the Blood.
Perhaps she was nothing more than a myth, something to rally the Resistance. But if she was a myth, why was her death so important to the Coalition?
Because even a myth has great power. A myth could sway the masses and start a revolution. She was important to the Resistance for the very same reason the Coalition wanted her dead.
The Coalition would have been smarter to leave well enough alone, to keep her isolated with the rest of her family. Kidnapping her was a fortunate mistake, fortunate for the Resistance.
Kyr happened to be on a trading mission near the moon where Aja was being held. When his brother, the Resistance leader, had contacted him and offered him more coin than he’d ever dreamed of making in a thousand lifetimes, he’d volunteered without hesitation.
Of all the men under his command, only Davi knew the truth about this mission. Kyr trusted him with his life. He couldn’t say the same for Wyer, but the engineer was irreplaceable, a genius at keeping their vessel in the air, scrounging parts out of nothing and nowhere. When you spent most of your time on the run, you had to make do with whatever you could find, buy, beg or steal from others who lived beyond the reach of the Coalition’s long arms.
Kyr wondered if the Royal Family had managed to escape. Removing the Empress from Coalition control would breathe life into the entire galaxy. Word would spread through the underground channels like wild fire and the ruling Junta would have no way to stop it. For all he knew, the embers that had smoldered for thirty long years had already burst into flame.
He heard the Princess, Aja, rummaging through the pantry. Groaning, he pulled himself into a sitting position, making sure to drag the coverlet over his lower body as he waited for her to return.
Kyr had never seen a woman of the pure Blood before. Aja was striking, with the rich mahogany hair of all women of the pure Blood, the distinct gray eyes and the pale, flawless skin.
Too rich for the likes of him.
Davi had found her some clothing. She wore a soft, well-worn sweater of winat wool, but its shapelessness couldn’t disguise the appealing contours of her high, round breasts. Loose dark green trousers hung low on her hips. She’d rolled the bottoms up so they wouldn’t drag beneath her bare feet. They’d had no shoes to fit her.
She’d been naked and tied to a table when Kyr had found her. He’d feared she was dead, but she’d jumped to her feet as soon as he’d released her and grabbed a handful of wicked looking surgical knives. Alone, she’d dispatched several lab technicians and at least two guards.
Kyr had heard rumors about the inbred fighting ability of women of the Blood. Now he’d seen for himself the rumors were true.
A woman who knew how to fight like a man was unheard of these days. Since the Empress had gone into exile, women led sheltered lives. They were mothers, midwives, healers and whores. They managed the planting and the harvesting; the weaving and the sewing. They watched over the herds of winat and brill and the few remaining horses the Junta allowed them.
One of the first acts of the Coalit
ion was to pass a law forbidding women from serving with the local militias. Perhaps to punish the women for supporting the Empress, a ruler who had led her troops, both men and women, into battle during the days of the coup.
Kyr wondered if it had bothered her, the Princess, using those knives so savagely. She didn’t utter a single word about the fight afterwards, but they’d had other things to worry about, like escaping their pursuers, and then he’d become ill.
Aja returned, carrying a ceramic bowl. He could see the steam rising from the hot liquid within. She’d covered her hands with the sleeves of her sweater to protect them from the heat.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m not used to cooking with a double flame. Let me cool it for you.” She sat on a small stool next to the bed and blew gently over the broth.
“You cook?”
“When I’m allowed.” A corner of her mouth turned up in an appealing half-smile. “Here, sip it slow.” She held the bowl to his mouth.
Kyr took a sip. Salt, heavenly salt. The broth came from some sort of fowl. He didn’t care what sort of fowl. He sipped again, and again, until the broth was gone.
“Would you like another bowl?”
The captain shook his head. With Aja’s assistance, he lay back down and closed his eyes. He felt himself drifting off to sleep.
“Wake me when they return,” he said.
“I will…” Her voice faded from his consciousness.
Aja waited until she was certain the man was dead to the world. She reached into a pocket and eased out one of the surgical knives. She touched the captain’s palm and waited, but he didn’t stir. She drew the scalpel gently across the side of his hand, making a long, narrow incision, drawing blood. She did the same thing to her palm and squeezed the wound until she bled freely. She pressed her palm against the cut she’d made on the captain’s hand and closed her eyes.
Aja made no sound as their blood mingled. Despite her reservations, she bound them in the manner women of the Blood bound themselves to their mate. Blood dripped onto the coverlet, staining it red. When at last she pulled her palm away, both cuts had closed and the bleeding had stopped.
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