by Robyn Bachar
“I’ve never met another one.” Sabine looked away. “Bryn is the only person I’ve ever told about it. I knew that it was different, and different is bad when you’re a slave. You want to be forgettable. Invisible.”
“I’m sorry, Sabine. I hope that you’ll be happy with me. At least you’ll have no doubts of my sincerity.”
Sabine nodded. Jace was being honest, she had no doubt of that. She glanced back and met his gaze—he had pale eyes, quite different from Bryn’s vibrant teal stare. His ramrod straight posture and the haughty tilt of his head showed calm command, but beneath that, Sabine sensed turmoil. Fear of rejection, and an underlying loneliness.
“You don’t know, do you?” she asked.
“Hmm?”
“You don’t know what would make you happy. Have you never been happy?”
“I was content.”
“That’s not the same thing,” Sabine insisted. “And it’s not enough. I was content for a long time, or at least I thought I was. Slaves live day-to-day. You don’t think of where you’ll be in a year, or ten years, because it’s likely to be the same place you are today.”
“What changed?”
“I met Bryn, and I learned that things could be different.”
“I see.” He considered her words for a moment, and then smirked. “It would make me happy if you ate something.”
Sabine giggled, and then stole a bite from his plate. She returned to the desk and stared down at her own food, suppressing a grimace. Food next, then inevitably more phase-frenzied sex, but then she would ponder this more—the unhappy Second Son of House Morningstar, her new mate. Jace wanted her—both of them—to be happy. Perhaps they could help him find happiness in return.
Chapter Ten
Bryn stared up at the dull gray ceiling of the medical bay, bored, cold and tired of being poked and prodded. She was fairly certain that Dr. Morgan had declared her of sound mind—the woman hadn’t sedated her or had her hauled off in restraints, so Bryn assumed she’d passed. Now the doctor was scanning her body to see if the slavers had left any permanent physical damage. There were new scars, but they were superficial. Nothing that should interfere with her duties. Not that she had duties, yet. Those would come after Sabine’s phase ended if she decided to stay with the resistance. Her service seemed less important in comparison to Sabine’s safety now that she knew the truth about Jace’s murderous brother. What would she do if not fight for the resistance? Sit around the Morningstar manor, constantly looking over her shoulder, waiting for assassins to attack?
She should have known that there would be a catch, that the second son’s offer was too good to be true. Bryn wouldn’t have yielded to him if she’d known Sabine would be in danger. But if she hadn’t, Sabine would still be delirious with the phase instead of finally coming out of it. Or they would be with Commander Soth, though Bryn was glad she had bested him in their duel. She knew his type well enough from her days as a shadow sword. Soth was a good soldier, but he wouldn’t be a good mate—he was too set in his ways. Jace at least seemed willing to learn, though the bombshell about his family had fried the small amount of trust he’d earned in Bryn’s mind.
“Ah, I thought so,” Dr. Morgan said.
“Something wrong?” Bryn asked.
“No, not at all. It should be good news, in fact.”
“I passed the test?” She sat up and turned to the doctor, who was busily tapping away at the data pad in her hand.
“Yes. You’re a bit malnourished, but otherwise in excellent health. This is a different matter. It appears from your scar tissue that someone attempted to sterilize you. Is that true?”
“Yes. Wait, attempted?” Bryn asked. Not succeeded?
“Sometimes the effects are reversible, depending on the procedure used. The quick, inexpensive methods are often the least permanent.”
Reversible. Bryn’s stomach dropped. “And in my case?”
The doctor smiled warmly. “In your case, I believe the effect can be reversed with surgery. I could probably manage it, but your odds of complete recovery would be better if you consulted a Cy’ren doctor when we return to Cyprena. I’m sure there are many capable surgeons within House Morningstar who could handle such a thing.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say. The knowledge left her body numb but her mind racing.
The effects could be reversed—cured. Bryn could have children. Her lip twisted at the idea of children with the second son, immediately put in danger by his older brother’s paranoid greed. It would be risky. Dangerous. But children of her own…the possibility of it was like having a piece of her soul restored, a piece that she thought was lost forever thanks to the slavers. When they discussed having a family, it had always been assumed that Sabine would have the children, if they didn’t adopt. Sabine might be pregnant soon. If she had a son, he would be the Morningstar heir. Might as well have tattooed a target on her instead of a mate mark.
“You can return to your quarters now. I’ll let the captain know you’re cleared for duty,” Dr. Morgan said, and Bryn nodded.
“Thank you,” she repeated. Other words seemed too complicated at the moment.
Cleared for duty, just like that. Her legs moved of their own accord, carrying her out of the med bay while her mind burned like an engine kicked into overdrive. Gods, what would she say to Jace? To Sabine? Did this change things? Sabine would be happy for her, and probably encourage having the surgery. But she couldn’t protect Sabine if she was round and pregnant herself, and though Bryn wanted this piece of herself restored, she’d be damned if she let the Morningstars define her worth to their house by the status of her reproductive system.
She’d keep the information quiet for now. Sabine’s safety was more important—was most important. Bryn loved her more than anything. She would’ve gotten herself killed by their master long ago if not for Sabine.
The deck shook beneath her boots as the rumble of an explosion rocked the ship, and then flashing alarms and blaring sirens kicked on. Bryn froze, paralyzed by the nightmare memories of the final moments of the Sabre. Fear clutched her throat, and she struggled to breathe—if the ship was taken by slavers, Bryn would be right back where she started. Worse, even, because new slavers would surely separate her from Sabine. Then Bryn’s training overrode her fear and started her moving. The Talon II was down a first officer because he was busy fucking her mate, and they would need a hand on the bridge.
Captain Hawke glanced at her with a raised brow when she entered, but then motioned her forward. “Lieutenant Viera, take weapons. I’ll cover engineering.”
The captain moved to the engineering station, and Bryn took a seat at the weapons console. It was all familiar, even after so much time spent as a slave. It helped that this ship was older than she was, so there were no surprises in the technology. The bridge was larger than the Sabre’s, but the Sabre had been a light—and admittedly ancient—military cruiser, not a modified transport. At least the chair was comfortable. Civilian design was always more comfort-oriented than military specs.
The indicator lights flashed green across the board. Their cannons were armed, but the approaching ship was out of firing range.
“Captain, they’re broadcasting an Alliance military ID,” the navigator announced. “They’re ordering us to power down and submit to being towed aboard their ship.”
An Alliance warship? Here? Bryn glanced at her data screen and brought up the coordinates for the Talon II’s current position. Unable to kick the ship into VFF speed, they had limped to the edge of the system that had been home to the jump station. This was U-space, and the only Alliance citizens Bryn had ever encountered on the station were traders, not military.
“Their shields are up and their weapons are armed, but they don’t have a target lock,” Bryn informed Captain Hawke.
“Rizzoli, what’s their shi
p name?” the captain asked.
“The Adamant,” he replied. Bryn committed the navigator’s name to memory. He was an older human, like Dr. Morgan.
Captain Hawke cursed. “Captain Gleason. Figures. Viera, keep a lock on them for now.” She punched a button on her console. “Bridge to Harrow.”
“Harrow here,” Jace answered.
“Stay in your quarters. We have an Alliance cruiser sniffing around, but I don’t think they’ll be trouble. Lieutenant Viera is manning your station in your absence.”
“I am capable of performing my duties,” Jace argued.
“I gave you an order to stay put, so stay put. Bridge out.” She closed the channel and glanced at Bryn, who straightened. This was her chance to prove herself to her new captain, and she didn’t intend to waste it. “I’m opening a comm. channel to the Adamant.” The ship-to-ship comm. pinged, and Captain Hawke leaned forward. “A little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you, Dwayne?”
There was a long pause. “Captain Hawke. Somehow I’m not surprised. Are you responsible for the attack on Jump Station 3?”
“Oh, sure,” she replied. “You know me, Dwayne. I’ve got an itchy trigger finger and a bad attitude.”
Rizzoli snickered at his station.
“I assume you also are also going to claim ignorance about why we’ve lost communication with the colony on Parcola 5?”
Frowning, the captain muted the comm. and turned to Rizzoli. “Parcola?”
“Checking,” the navigator replied. “Alliance colony. Small-time mining. Not too far from here.”
“Huh.” She switched the comm. on again. “That’s a new one to us, Dwayne. Maybe they forgot to pay their power bills.”
“Very amusing. Reduce power to your engines and prepare to be brought aboard.”
Captain Hawke sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “Why?”
“What?”
“If you check your sensors, you might notice that you’re in U-space, and that this ship is registered to the independent planet Cyprena. You don’t have the authority to bring us aboard. But, if you ask nicely, I could be persuaded to pay you a visit and trade our information on the attack for your cooperation in repairing our VFF drive.”
There was a hiss of static over the comm. that sounded suspiciously like swearing, and then another voice, a female this time, came on and politely requested that the Talon II please power down in preparation for being guests aboard the Adamant.
Bryn smiled, impressed.
Captain Hawke rose and beckoned her. “Lieutenant Viera, you’re with me. Rizzoli, tell Sam and Soth to meet us at the ramp.”
“Aye sir.”
Bryn fell in step behind the captain as they left the bridge. “I assume that the doctor cleared you?” Captain Hawke asked.
“Yes sir.”
“Good. You ever been on an Alliance ship?”
“No sir.”
The captain rolled her shoulders and then tugged at the hem of her uniform jacket. “The Adamant’s captain is Dwayne Gleason. He’s your typical by-the-book Alliance son of a bitch. We’ve met before. I’ll handle him. Just keep your eyes open and your mouth shut.”
“Yes sir.”
“I mean that. Don’t feel obligated to defend the ship’s honor when he slights it. We’re all lower than dirt to him.”
Bryn cleared her throat. “I’m used to being treated that way, sir. It won’t be a problem.”
Captain Hawke stopped and turned. She studied Bryn for a silent moment, her gaze trailing to Bryn’s slave marks, and then she nodded. “Good. Come on. We’ve got some shiny Alliance decks to scuff with our independent boots.”
The Adamant’s landing bay was enormous, and the Talon II looked like an old, broken child’s toy that had been dropped into the center of it. Bryn winced in the bright lights as she stood at the bottom of the landing ramp—Cy’ren ships tended to keep their lighting dim. Samlen Wirett, the Talon II’s Chief Engineer, was quickly whisked away to discuss parts and repairs with a group of techs, and Bryn and Commander Soth followed Captain Hawke through the ship to meet with the Adamant’s captain.
The Alliance ship shined like a jewel, its gleaming corridors filled with crew in crisp, dark blue uniforms hurrying about on what had to be Very Important Business. It was a far cry from the boisterous Wintersend shadow sword barracks. Even the air smelled cleaner than a normal ship. Bryn tugged at the sleeves of Jace’s borrowed jacket and kept her eyes forward.
When they reached the bridge, Captain Hawke and Captain Gleason stepped into his ready room. Bryn and Soth stood guard outside, watching the Alliance officers. Most were human—humans bred so fast that few other species could keep up with their ever-expanding population. They went about their work with hushed efficiency, as though afraid to break the stern quiet with a laugh or a joke. The top-of-the-line consoles were sleek and spotless. No exposed wiring or missing panels on this ship.
“Too fussy,” Soth muttered in Cy’reni. “They look like they’re afraid we’re going to piss on the floors, or bite them.”
Bryn glanced at him and replied in kind. “I only bite when asked nicely.”
“Did Harrow ask nicely?”
“He did. How’s your nose?”
Soth scowled and fell silent.
Captain Hawke emerged almost an hour later with a scowl, her face flushed with temper and her shoulders pinched with tension. She muttered a few Cy’reni curses that questioned Captain Gleason’s parentage, cleanliness and sexual preferences.
“We’re out of here,” she said. “Let’s go before they change their minds.”
Chapter Eleven
With help from the Alliance techs, the Talon II’s VFF drive was up and running again. The captain put Bryn to work, mostly to keep watch over the techs. Captain Hawke called a meeting once the ship was underway, and apparently the topic was important enough to pull Jace out of his quarters—for a short time, at least. He eyed Bryn with concern when he entered, but she kept her focus on the captain. Bryn would deal with the second son later.
“What did you find?” Captain Hawke asked Malcolm.
The indexer ran a hand through his unkempt hair and glared at the Talon II’s assembled officers.
“The data you gave me isn’t relevant to the Lazarus project.”
“But you did decrypt it?” she prompted.
Malcolm frowned. “Of course I decrypted it. Whoever wrote it was barely literate. A child could have decrypted it. That’s not my point. It’s not what you’re looking for. It isn’t even from the same organization.”
Bryn doubted that a child could really decrypt it—maybe a child indexer—but she believed that his frustration was genuine. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “It’s okay. We understand.”
She noticed two results from her friendly gesture—Malcolm calmed, and Jace tensed.
“What is the Lazarus project?” Bryn asked.
“We’re not sure yet,” Captain Hawke replied. “When we liberated Nepheros, the Eppes personnel wiped the facility’s data core. Nepheros was once a Sunsinger mining colony, but House Nightfall acquired it after the Sunsinger ruling family was massacred. The Eppes were using it for slaving, with a side of bioweapon research. We’ve managed to restore some of the files, and the resistance hired several indexers to search for more information.”
“House Morningstar and House Sunsinger hired several indexers,” Jace corrected. “House Nightfall blocked the resistance’s involvement when it was proposed to the high council, because they fear that we will find concrete evidence linking House Nightfall to the Eppes organization.”
Bryn frowned. “Why are they working together? I thought they supported the ban on slavery?”
“Only on the surface. Apparently Lord Bildanen feels that independence is a failed experiment, and we should return
to our old ways. With him in charge, of course,” Jace said. “Officially he’s denying any involvement, but it looks as though a great deal of House Nightfall’s profits can be linked back to the Eppes.”
“Denial is one thing, killing three indexers and destroying two jump stations to cover up your involvement is another,” Malcolm said. “Look, I uploaded what I found. You can do whatever you want with it. I still need a stronger signal to continue searching for the location of the Lazarus testing facility.”
Captain Hawke nodded. “We should reach Cyprena in seventy-two hours. They’ll have the facilities you need there.”
“Seventy-two hours?” Jace’s pale brows rose in surprise.
“Yes. Is there a problem, Lieutenant Commander?” Captain Hawke asked.
“Sabine is still in phase,” he said.
“I am aware of that. We’ll notify Sunsinger operations when we arrive and warn them to take the proper precautions.”
“Why Sunsinger operations? Why not the Morningstar enclave?” Jace asked.
“Because…” The captain trailed off.
Jace folded his hands. “The Morningstar archives are just as extensive as the Sunsinger archive. I understand that you miss your mates, but you cannot run to the Sunsingers every time you have a problem.”
“You’d prefer that we run to your house with our problems?” she countered. For a moment Bryn thought she was about to hit him, but instead she glared her disapproval.
“It would set a good precedent.”
Captain Hawke pondered that for a few moments before nodding in reluctant agreement. “Fine. We’ll head there then.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Jace said.
“May I ask, did Captain Gleason explain why he mentioned the Parcola colony?” Bryn asked.
“Apparently that’s why the Adamant was in the area. They were on their way to investigate why the colony’s communications are down when they received the distress call from the jump station.” Captain Hawke shrugged. “Alliance colonies aren’t our problem. You’re all dismissed. Harrow and Viera, you’re off-duty until we arrive at Cyprena. Try not to sprain anything in the meantime.”