“Obviously, he knows he can’t bring her back here,” Harmool replied as he thought each possible option through. “We’d kill them both on sight. I suspect our mercenary has left her in the sleep pod for now until he can figure out exactly what to do with her.”
If he was a smart as he appeared to be, Harmool thought but did not say aloud, he took the Jakamal with him when he left Nammu. In Dwyn’s place, he, with a little work courtesy of the device, would ‘convince’ the Princess to be whoever, and whatever, he wanted her to be.
Harmool allowed himself a slight smile of pleasure at the thought then quickly erased it. Perhaps that little bonus could actually be arranged later. He’d had his fair share of lustful dreams involving the Princess in the past. But for now, their two fugitives had to be dealt with. He doubted the other three women would retain enough memory of their ordeals to lead back to Salacia. If they could neutralize Dwyn, they could still make the kidnapping charge against Napat stick. The situation was salvageable, but he needed to get to work quickly.
“I will tend to this personally, sire” he promised with a bow and turned away.
“You had better, Harmool,” Iodocus growled. “Because we have come too far and are far too close to our goal to fail now.”
CHAPTER NINE
“We have received several disturbing reports,” Eldereef reported in the Chancellor’s office. “There is some additional data, confirming these reports, from intercepted dispatches in the Salacian military.”
Napat leaned back in his chair wearily. It was a never ending nightmare of bad news these past few days. He was hemorrhaging support in the Senate almost by the hour. Friends he could call on day or night were no longer taking his calls. One of the largest planets outside of the capitol world of the Alliance was building up its military, and, as far as he could tell, it could only be a prelude to an attack.
What else could possibly go wrong? he asked himself bitterly.
“I suppose hoping for some good news is too much to ask for these days,” he asked aloud.
“It is possible that what you seek lies within these very reports, my friend,” Eldereef spread the documents out on the desk in front of the Chancellor. “It appears there is much more going on in connection to Salacia than even we believed. Someone arranged to have Princess Rhiannon kidnapped, along with the daughters of the rulers of three other planets – Caletos, Axaltier and Y’pslandi – and have them held hostage for ransom.”
“What lunatic would do such a thing?”
“A smuggler named Vedastus on Nammu,” Eldereef answered. “Or so it was made to seem. Salacia hired a merc, a man named Galen Dwyn, to mount a rescue attempt rather than pay off the kidnapper. Dwyn has something of a reputation among the smugglers, and he is also a former member of the Bata’van.”
“Was he kicked out of the service?”
“He left on his own accord and without permission.” Eldereef replied.
“And they didn’t drag him back to be executed for desertion?” Napat was surprised. The Bata’van did not countenance such actions under any circumstances. You left their service when they no longer had any use for you. Or when you were dead.
“Seems no one wanted to go after him to bring him in,” Eldereef said. “As I said, he has something of a reputation for a reason. At any rate, or so we were meant to believe when the story got out, the attempt failed, resulting in the deaths of the four women, Vedastus and Dwyn on Nammu.”
“That announcement Iodocus made about his daughter,” Napat remarked. “But why haven’t the other three worlds followed suit?”
“This is where the story gets interesting. It seems that all three of their kidnapped women miraculously returned home alive, and their rescuer refused any reward for their return. They are trying to keep a lid on it but…”
“You have spies everywhere,” Napat said. “Continue. Who returned those women?”
“No one knows for sure, but it appears likely that it was Dwyn himself. Curiously, he hasn’t returned the Princess Rhiannon to Salacia. Iodocus truly believes she died on Nammu or at least he did up until yesterday.”
Eldereef picked up one specific dispatch and handed over to Napat.
“This is a summary of several messages Iodocus received regarding the kidnappings. It informed him that those three women are not dead,” Eldereef selected another sheet. “This one is a message sent out to every Salacian ship shortly after he received those notifications. They are ordered to look out for Dwyn and his ship, the Tempest, and if located take Dwyn and Princess Rhiannon into custody.”
“Iodocus ordered his fleet to arrest his ‘dead’ daughter?”
“That’s pretty much it in a nutshell, and he wants a tight security lid on the whole thing,” Eldereef nodded. “Fortunately for us, I managed to get someone planted on Salacia before they locked everything down yesterday.”
“This is madness,” Napat repeated.
“Or a carefully concealed plot that has gone wrong, and Iodocus is trying to salvage it.”
“Explain.”
“What if Iodocus was behind the kidnappings? He has the women killed in a botched rescue attempt, enraging the other three worlds so they would rally behind him.”
“Why would they rally behind the man who kidnapped and killed four innocent women?”
“They would, if they thought someone else were responsible, someone already facing a growing level of unpopularity within the Alliance.”
“Me?” Napat exclaimed in surprise. “You’re talking about me. They were going to try to pin this lunacy on me?”
“It fits the information we have. Salacia has already built up their military and is ready to strike. If the Bata’van thought you were involved they might not support you or even defend you against any Salacian threat.”
“But to sacrifice his own child…,” Napat couldn’t process how any father could fall that far. “Can we prove any of this?”
“No. All we have is speculation with no hard evidence that just happens to fit what little information we have.”
“If you’re right, I can understand why this Dwyn didn’t return to Salacia,” Napat mused. “He probably figures they’d both be dead on arrival. Assuming he actually did rescue the girl. He might have left her behind as justice for being set up.”
“I’ve read his file,” Eldereef shook his head. “That’s not his style. No, this Dwyn has the Princess with him, I would stake my reputation on it. He knows that he can’t trust Iodocus. He doesn’t know if he can trust us or anyone else for that matter. He’s probably found himself a nice hole somewhere to hide himself, the girl, and his ship until he can figure out what to do next.”
“We need to find him,” Napat said. “He can provide us the proof that we need to put an end to Iodocus’ insanity once and for all. Send out everyone you can spare. Find this Dwyn and the Princess and bring them in.”
“He won’t be so easy to find.”
“Then get a message to him. Tell him we know what’s going on. Offer him whatever he wants, give him however many planets he wants, but get him in this office as soon possible.”
“I already have,” Eldereef said, with a slight smile. “I figured you’d be willing to do whatever it took to get him in.”
Napat allowed a small smile to form. He should have known his old friend would have anticipated this conversation word for word.
“Just make sure you get him here alive,” Napat added. “I have a feeling my neck is as much on the line right now as his is.”
CHAPTER TEN
Galen waited a full day, the cabin hatch never opening once, before he decided to make an effort to speak with his passenger. There was a toilet and a food slot in each cabin, and they had both been used according to his ship’s systems that kept track of such things.
Cassandra hadn’t waited quite as long.
“Princess,” she spoke out of the cabin’s com speaker. “I know you’re awake and can hear me. So stop pouting and sit up.”
“What do you want?” the Princess’ voice was muffled by a pillow, and she didn’t sit up.
“I wanted to tell you to grow up and stop acting like a spoiled little brat,” Cassandra replied as harshly as she could convey of the speaker. That got the Princess sitting up.
“How dare you!” she snapped, angry and crying. “You have no idea what I’ve been through…”
“It could be worse,” Cassandra replied evenly.
“Really? How so? What else could possibly be done to me to make things even worse?” bitter sarcasm dripped from every word.
“You could lying dead in the rubble back on Nammu.”
That brought the Princess up short.
“And you really haven’t thanked him for saving your life and getting you away from that sadist Vedastus, have you?”
“No, I haven’t,” she agreed meekly, then rallied. “But he was just doing what he was paid to do, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was paid,” Cassandra replied. “Ten million aurox bars up front with another twenty million on delivery. He took the job, what merc wouldn’t.”
“So it was just for the money then, wasn’t it?”
“In the beginning?” Cassandra admitted. “Sure, it was. He’s a merc. It’s what he does. But you want to know what the first thing he did with that money was? He transferred a million of it to a widow and her son. All because her husband, and the boy’s father, was killed, and Galen thinks, incorrectly I might add, that he is responsible for that death. They’ll never need a thing now.
“You want to know how much reward he asked for and got for returning your companions to their fathers?” she continued. “Nothing. He refused payment even though it was offered and he could have asked for ten times what he was paid by your father’s hatchet man.”
The Princess remained quiet, but she had to admit the AI had a point.
“I’ve seen a lot of smugglers, a lot of mercs,” Cassandra added. “Most of them more like that jerk Vedastus than not. Galen is nothing like them. He’s a lot better than you give him credit for, sweetie. He didn’t even cop a feel when he had a chance after he pulled you out of that pod out there.
“He deserves a lot more respect than you’ve been showing him,” she concluded. “You might start by at least thanking him properly for saving your sorry, little, spoiled butt.”
To her shame, the Princess realized the AI was absolutely correct.
* * * * *
Galen walked back to the cabin, rapped on the hatch with three short, smart taps—another leftover from his Academy days—and waited for a response. Silence was all he was met with. He tried again. Tap, tap-tap. A little harder this time.
Nothing.
He was about to try a third round, this time with a balled-up fist that would be sure to shake the ship from bow to stern. But before he could begin the action, the hatch seal cracked open. She was still in the blue dress, which was badly wrinkled now.
Her face was tear-stained and drawn. Dark half-circles had formed under red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes that were haunted by nightmare images every time they closed. He knew that look too well. He’d seen it whenever he looked into a mirror for weeks after his encounters with the Jakamal. Eventually, he’d conquered those demons, for the most part anyway. In time, so would she.
“Yes, Captain?”
“I just wanted to let you know there is a fresher unit on board,” he explained. “A shower with real running water. I thought you might find it of service. And there’s an open container in the aft cargo hold with some more clothes in it. I’m not sure if I’m ever going to get around to delivering it anyway. Feel free to take whatever you need.”
“Thank you, Captain,” her voice was small and flat, a broken person. He was partly to blame for that. But she needed to know the truth. Some people never came back from that. Others did. He hoped she would do the latter.
“I’ll be on the flight deck,” he stepped back. “Call me if you need anything.”
She stepped out onto the deck and stooped suddenly, her eyes on the sleeping pod.
“When we get somewhere with some good medicos,” he answered her unspoken question: Why is this thing still here? “They’ll need to know what to look for so they can pull as much of it out as they can. The data stored in its memory should be complete enough that they can erase everything. The nights will get better.”
She turned around, giving him a curious look.
“I was on the receiving end of a Jakamal a long time ago,” he confirmed. “It was SOP for Bata’van cadets. My…inquisitor…was a sadistic sack of…,” Galen paused, catching himself. “He wasn’t a very nice man.”
She nodded and turned away from him and the pod and made her way down to the open cargo. Galen left for the flight deck to give her some space. Cass could fly the ship all the way without him but being up at the controls gave him something to do. Something to do to help keep his mind off of his passenger primarily.
“She’s not armed with a pipe this time, Galen,” Cassandra said an hour later as Rhiannon walked up to the flight deck. She had found a gold turtle-neck blouse and a matching pair of pants. The spangled-slippers were a bit gaudy, but they looked serviceable. Better still she looked much better than she had an hour before. The shower had clearly helped.
“Do I pass inspection?” she asked, and Galen realized with a start that he’d been staring at her.
“Certainly,” he said, waving at the open seat for her to sit down. “You look…” beautiful, amazing, stunning, incredible.. “great. Feeling better?”
“A little,” a flicker of a smile crossed her lips as she sat down and looked out the forward window. “I owe you an apology, Captain. I haven’t really told you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me. You deserve a proper thank you instead of…how I’ve been acting.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “And I think we can cut you a little slack under the circumstances. I’m not sure if there really is a proper way to act when something like this is going on.”
She gave him a quick nod of appreciation and looked out the window.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Belisama,” he answered. “It’s an out-of-the-way world where my old Academy mentor, Lir Fiachra, lives. He teaches Ancient History and Mythology at the University there. I own a nice little island there where I can park the Tempest under a camouflage screen and take a water skimmer ashore. We should be there tomorrow morning.”
“Your mentor can help?” she looked over at him.
“He’s the smartest man I know,” Galen said. “A lot smarter than me for sure. He’ll know how to handle political intrigue like this. My way is just to blast my way through until no one is left standing. Somehow, I don’t think that will help you much.”
“Probably not,” she admitted and looked back outside. “It’s so peaceful out there.”
“Most of the time it is,” he agreed.
“And lonely, too.”
“It can be.”
“I wonder,” she said quietly, “if it would be possible to get in a ship like this and just keep heading out into deep space, never coming back here.”
“You could,” he allowed. “Eventually, you’d need to find food and fuel. You’d have to hope your ship never broke down and needed repair.”
“Maybe just to the outer reaches then, close enough to resupply but far away from people?”
“You could do that. But you’d be hunted every day for the rest of your life. Every person you encounter could be a bounty hunter looking to bring you in or just kill you where you stood.
“That’s not a life anyone should want,” he concluded. “It’s not the life for you, Princess.”
“I’m not sure what kind of a life I had before,” she said. “I thought I was being trained in statecraft, to eventually take the throne when my time came and lead my people. Now it seems like I was raised to be nothing more than a mere pawn to trigger a revolution. You’re life s
ounds better to me than mine right now.
“Besides, you seem to be doing well with it,” she continued. “How did you wind up here? You said you were in the Bata’van. I was told there was only two ways to leave the service: Death or dishonorable discharge.”
“I found a third way,” he replied and said nothing more on the subject. “And this is really not the kind of life you’d want, Princess.”
“What kind of life do I have now? And you should stop calling me ‘Princess’, Captain. I’m not that anymore.”
She got up to leave the deck. Not in hysterics like the last time, but too much like someone walking to the gallows for his liking. He spun his chair around and called out to her.
“Princess!” she turned around and looked at him oddly. “No matter what your father has done, or intends to do. Whether you are in a castle on Salacia, here on the deck of my ship, or anywhere else in the galaxy remember this: You will always be a Princess.”
Her smile was a little brighter this time, and she graced him with a small curtsy.
“Thank you, Captain,” she said before returning to her cabin.
Whenever anyone called him ‘Captain’ or ‘Mr. Dwyn’ he’d always quip, “Call me, Galen.” He almost did it this time too, but it felt too familiar, so he held his tongue. When her cabin hatch closed, he swung his chair back around.
“Cass,” he said, adding before she could answer, “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything,” she protested with a well-manufactured huff.
“You were going to,” he grumbled.
He noticed that she didn’t deny that charge.
* * * * *
“Is that your island?” Rhiannon asked as they approached from the south, the mid-morning sun slightly behind them. “All I see is sand and trees.”
“That’s exactly what anyone flying overhead is supposed to see,” he replied as he guided his ship in. “Trust me, it will look a whole lot different when you are at ground level.”
“Seems a little warm out there,” she noted. “I may be slightly overdressed.”
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