Wyvern's Warrior

by Deborah Cooke

  “It will be as you command, your highness,” Ector said and bowed.

  “But what if Anguissa doesn’t return?” Ignita asked.

  Ouros heard the unspoken question. What if neither of their daughters returned, by choice or otherwise? The idea sickened him.

  He strode to the window. He looked out over the imperial city in all its prosperity and watched the shuttles rising to the starport without really seeing them. “Anguissa will return,” he said, knowing his wife wouldn’t like his next words. “It’s Thalina who may be gone forever.” He glanced over his shoulder at Ignita, who looked horrified. “She has chosen the Carrier over her home, a choice influenced by the Seed but a decision all the same.”

  “But she will have a child!” Ignita said, coming quickly to his side. “We will have a grandchild! We must see them both!”

  “I am caught between the law of my kingdom and the desire of my heart,” Ouros said, taking Ignita’s wife in his hand. He turned to Kraw. “Assemble an advisory council of our best lawyers, please, Kraw. I want a list of every single potential loophole to Scintillon’s Law, as well as the possibilities of modifying that legislation.”

  “It will be done, your majesty, though I feel compelled to remind you that Scintillon’s Law is studied even beyond Incendium as an example of a perfectly structured law that cannot be appealed.”

  “I know, Kraw,” Ouros acknowledged, his heart heavy. “But I have to try.”

  “Understood, your majesty.”

  When Kraw and Ector were both gone and the door secured, Ignita turned to him. “How much tranquilizer did you ingest?” she demanded.

  Of course, his wife would want to know the details. There had always been complete honesty between them and Ouros wasn’t going to change that now.

  Even though he winced. “Each dart was loaded with one third of the dose required to put Thalina to sleep. Maybe half of it entered my system before I removed the dart.”

  “That’s all?” Ignita demanded, her eyes flashing. “But you are larger than Thalina…”

  “And older, my beloved. And older.” Ouros shook his head. Six hundred years. And five hundred as king. Where had the time gone? He considered the sun of their system, disliking that it was closer than it had once been. How could he ensure the future beyond his own inevitable demise? How could he defend those of his lineage still to come? And what of the citizens who relied upon him to guarantee their future?

  He admired the elegance of Troy’s theory that the birth of Gravitas might affect the speed of Incendium’s fall into the sun, but he didn’t have the same faith in the power of mind over matter. The astrologists had checked and double-checked, and at best, the change had added several hundred years to the projected survival of Incendium. He supposed colonization should be explored again and in greater detail.

  It was, Ouros feared, a task for a younger king.

  Ignita came to stand behind Ouros and slid her arms around his waist. He smiled at the press of her body against his own. “The Seed,” she breathed, her touch and her words improving his mood. “I could smell it when they brought you to your chambers. Do you remember that summer night on Excandesco?”

  Ouros covered her hand with his. “How could I forget? It was the first night of the rest of my life.”

  “I can still see the fireflies dancing for us.”

  “They weren’t what beguiled me,” he said, squeezing her hand.

  Ignita chuckled. “Oh, you haven’t lost your charm, Ouros of Incendium,” she said, her voice husky as Ouros turned in her embrace. “I’m so glad I ignored my sister’s advice and let you live.”

  Ouros chuckled. “I’m so glad you agreed to be my queen. Imagine! You would have had only Drakina if you’d sacrificed me.”

  “More importantly, I wouldn’t have you,” she replied. “I love my girls, Ouros, but you were the one I agreed to share my life with.”

  He bent to kiss her, that old heat simmering in his veins with new vigor.

  “I thought you had to rest,” Ignita whispered when she could.

  “I’m not that old yet,” Ouros growled. “Let me remind you of the power of the Seed.”

  * * *

  The Hive checked all of its incoming data feeds.

  There was no report from Acion.

  It was extremely unlikely that Acion would fail to surrender his report as scheduled, which could only mean that he had been incapable of doing so. The android had been eliminated on Incendium before delivering an update to the Hive.

  Which meant that the Hive’s experiment had delivered no results.

  Had the ShadowCaster been delivered?

  Had the new programming elicited the same responses in Acion as in Arista? Had he gone rogue or malfunctioned?

  The Hive reviewed the mission and its mandate, the enhancements made to Acion, then the detail known about Incendium. The file contained far more than the cursory summary in Acion’s brief, including much about one detail that hadn’t been included in that brief.

  Scintillon’s Law.

  There had been a small chance that the law had been repealed since the Hive had been able to gather intelligence about Incendium. Indeed, the Hive’s information about Incendium had been collected slightly before the passing of Scintillon’s Law.

  The Hive remembered Scintillon and his sons.

  There had been another, slightly larger, chance that centuries without encountering androids might have left the Incendians unprepared to execute their own law. The Hive, in fact, had relied upon a delay, a legal pursuit of an appeal, even though Scintillon’s Law did not allow one.

  The Hive considered this to be a logical development, and had concluded it would allow sufficient time to ensure that Acion made one remote report before his elimination. There had been an elegance in ensuring that the android with the enhanced programming would be eliminated in the course of its mission, by undertaking that mission on a planet hostile to androids.

  But given the silence from that android, the Hive determined that it was now highly probable that Acion had been destroyed on Incendium, perhaps even before delivering the ShadowCaster to King Ouros. That would mean that the ShadowCaster had also been destroyed, given its secure location within Acion’s shell.

  The Hive had taken a calculated risk, reasoning that Acion would be more efficient in pursuing his objectives than the Incendians would be in enforcing their law.

  This had been an error.

  The Hive was not accustomed to making errors. The Hive rechecked its conclusions a hundred times in rapid succession, only to make the same conclusion each time. There must have been another variable—or more—introduced, as the calculations were flawless. The assumptions and antecedents for the Hive’s calculations had to be altered to reflect this new information.

  Because the test of the new programming must be repeated, in order to determine its full influence, power and peril.

  The Hive began a search of its databanks to identify the next android it would enhance.

  * * *

  Captain Hellemut scowled at the screens in the cockpit of the Armada Seven. Ryke knew better than to challenge his captain when her expression was so dark. In fact, all of the crew hunched a little lower as if to become invisible. No one wanted to become a target of her legendary wrath.

  “Again,” she muttered and beckoned, her gesture bringing the image into higher resolution. “Is that or is that not the Archangel again, Ryke?”

  Hellemut adored rhetorical questions, but Ryke wasn’t going to be the one to tell her how tedious they were.

  “It is, Captain,” he confirmed, knowing better than to anticipate the next question. His own heart squeezed a little that the ship had returned. Its captain was glorious in her fury, even when confronted on the comm by Hellemut. Anguissa hadn’t backed down quickly and had been so beautiful in her defiance that Ryke had later researched her.

  A dragon shifter princess and a rebel. Trouble and then some.

  And
back. His heart skipped.

  “In the same quadrant?” Hellemut invited.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “The same position?”

  “Very close, Captain. You have an excellent eye for judging distance.”

  Hellemut spun in her chair to face him, her three green eyes sparkling with malice. “And what have I told you about repeat visitors to the quadrant claimed by the Gloria Furore and defended by the Armada Seven, Ryke?”

  “That one visit might be an accident, but that the second is a provocation.”

  Hellemut smiled, although it wasn’t a pleasant expression. “I have trained you well,” she said with satisfaction. She spun to face the main screens again and drummed her fingers for a moment. “How many life forms aboard?”

  “Only one, captain,” supplied another crew member. “The mass and heat match that of the princess Anguissa, derived from your previous exchange with her.”

  “Excellent. She is taunting us.” Hellemut smiled and straightened. “It is time to teach the princess Anguissa a lesson about provocation.”

  Ryke made a notation of the order. The thing was, it didn’t look like foolishness when Anguissa challenged Hellemut.

  It looked a lot like bravery.

  He wondered what scheme she had in returning so soon to the same quadrant, and what plan she had for Hellemut. Ryke’s research had fed his admiration of the notoriously audacious dragon princess. She was every bit as dangerous as Hellemut: he doubted her morals were much better, but Anguissa was beautiful.

  And she was inclined to serve the greater good, even over her own.

  That combination had a way of tempting Ryke to make mistakes, like the one that had landed him in the custody of the Gloria Furore in the first place. Why had Anguissa come back? He doubted it was an accident or even a provocation.

  She had a reason and Ryke was curious about it.

  At Hellemut’s gesture, he opened the comm and hailed the Archangel.

  * * *

  Thalina had forgotten how much she hated jumping.

  And this time, she hadn’t been sufficiently hydrated, which only made the effects worse.

  There was a reason why she stayed home on Incendium. Thalina had traveled as a young dragon princess, but had never found anywhere with sufficient allure to justify regular space travel. The jump made her feel as if she was stretched thin and turned inside out, taken apart and then put back together again—by someone who hadn’t read the directions. She was a clock smashed on the ground and dumped back into its casing, workings all a-jumble and everything in need of calibration and adjustment. That feeling was only worse this time.

  Was it because the Seed taken root?

  Was she pregnant? The possibility filled her with delight and concern.

  She opened her eyes warily when the jump was completed. Anguissa, of course, was checking the Archangel’s systems and appeared to be unaffected. Acion already had new membrane on his left arm and also appeared to be unaffected. He probably was, since it was biological organisms who took space travel harder. He frowned at the console, then scanned the display.

  “You said this sector would be vacant,” he noted and Anguissa frowned in turn.

  She tapped up the display then grimaced. “That’s the problem with a quick departure.”

  “Where are we?” Thalina asked.

  “Where we shouldn’t be,” Anguissa muttered. “I called up a list of recently visited locations and chose the wrong one. We’re too far out. Frack. I don’t usually make these kinds of mistakes.”

  When she realized that Acion was calculating, Thalina’s fear rose. “But we can get to Cumae, right?”

  Acion was tapping the console, his eyes moving rapidly as he absorbed data, and she knew he’d tell her the truth. No matter what it was. “There are sufficient stores for one life form to reach Cumae or to return to Incendium,” he said. “Not both.”

  “That makes no sense,” Thalina said.

  “Our present location is distant from both planets,” Acion informed her. He drew a triangle in the air, one with a long point. “Consider that we are here.” He indicated the single point. “To jump to one or the other is a difference of direction more than distance.” He tapped. “That said, the individual would have several days of minimal nourishment if Incendium was chosen as destination, but would still arrive alive.”

  Thalina sat down hard. This was a lot more adventure than she’d planned on having.

  “Is this not danger?” Acion asked, apparently noticing her reaction.

  Thalina nodded, remembering their earlier discussion. “I think it would count.”

  “Then I shall add to my experiences with it.” He tilted his head. “You do not appear to be enjoying it as much as I would have anticipated.”

  “Maybe it’s different when you have someone else to take care of,” Thalina said and spread her hand over her flat stomach. Acion’s eyes flicked and he was very still for a long moment. Their gazes met and locked, and she knew that he understood her implication.

  How did he feel about them having a child?

  Did he feel anything at all?

  “Not to interrupt you two, but we’ve got more trouble than supplies,” Anguissa said. She pushed Thalina down to the floor, then gave her a shove when she might have argued.

  “What?”

  “I know that ship.” Anguissa pointed to the far side of the deck with an imperiousness Thalina instinctively obeyed.

  “We are being hailed,” Acion said. “By the other ship in the quadrant.”

  “By Captain Hellemut of the Armada Seven,” Anguissa said, not a shred of doubt in her tone.

  “You anticipated this meeting?” Acion asked.

  “No, but I recognize the ship and I know its captain well enough to speculate on her plans.”

  “Ah!” Acion said.

  Anguissa spun in her chair, then stood up abruptly. “Okay, this is what’s going to happen, Robot, and you’re going to make it so.” She leaned toward Acion and whispered rapidly to him.

  Thalina thought it was a bad sign that she couldn’t hear her sister’s words.

  “This is illogical,” Acion protested when Anguissa stopped talking.

  “On the contrary, it’s the only thing that makes sense,” she insisted. “You exist to serve right?”

  “Correct.”

  “And I’m your captain, so I command you to do this in order to defend my sister.”

  Acion frowned.

  “What’s happening?” Thalina demanded.

  Anguissa glared at Thalina. “Stay out of view and keep silent if you want to live. You do not want to mess with these people.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Frack knows but they work for the Gloria Furore.”

  Thalina stayed out of view and kept silent because that was all the warning she needed.

  “And strap down,” Anguissa added in a growl.

  “This is excellent advice,” Acion agreed, firing a look at Thalina.

  She did what she was told, remembering everything she’d ever heard about the Gloria Furore. The notorious and secretive band of thieves roved the galaxy, stealing, hijacking, kidnapping, and selling to the highest bidder. Weren’t they the ones who had snatched Troy from Terra? Thalina’s panic rose. She couldn’t die right after she met the Carrier of the Seed, could she? She couldn’t be killed before she knew whether Acion was her HeartKeeper, before she had his child, before she contributed to the future?

  Or made a future?

  This wasn’t fair!

  She did so much better with automatons. With logical systems and creatures. With androids who calculated probabilities…

  One life form.

  Thalina’s lips parted as she realized who Anguissa had decided that one life form was going to be.

  Of course. Anguissa was going to give Thalina a future.

  Before Thalina could protest, her sister stood up and went to the deck, propping her hands on her hips as
she faced the screen. “Open the frequency to hail, Robot.” Anguissa commanded, just as Thalina realized the markings on the deck indicated that it was also a transport deck. “Let’s do this thing. Oxygen is wasting.”

  Thalina bit her lip, feeling helpless, even as the image of the ugliest creature she’d ever seen filled the screen. Anguissa didn’t even flinch. “Greetings, Captain Hellemut,” she said in the universal tongue. She spoke with a more gutteral accent than usual, but Thalina could still follow the words. “How I have missed the sunshine of your smile.”

  “You are a fool to return, Captain Anguissa,” that creature said, its voice also gutteral yet oddly feminine. “And I thought you were clever.”

  “I just dislike unfinished business,” Anguissa said.

  “The Archangel is targeted by all of our weapons, Captain Anguissa. You are in no position to negotiate.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Surrender, of course.”

  “And then?”

  “You, first,” the three-eyed monster said with glee. “And then the Archangel.”

  “And if I decline this generous offer?”

  “I’ll obliterate you both together, right now.”

  “How very persuasive you are, Captain Hellemut.” Anguissa raised her hands. “Open a beam to transport me to your deck so I can surrender in person.”

  The creature chuckled. Thalina saw the display on the console register the locking of the tracking beam. Anguissa gave a nod to Acion, winking at Thalina when she turned her head so that the other captain couldn’t see.