by JC Cassels
“I’m not going to be in this bed forever.”
Kendall rose and pushed the chair back over to the bedside. “To show you what a nice guy I am, I won’t tell Barron anything. I’ll let you do that. It’ll be more fun that way.”
***
“Good news, Mister Devon,” the medic said. “It looks like you’re going to be released today. Agent Kendall is making arrangements to take you to Trisdos for further rehab.”
“Like hell!” Chase glared at the medic. “I’m taking him home to Cormoran.”
Bo’s hand tightened on Blade’s. “Blade and I were talking about Altair,” she said. “The baths would be beneficial.”
Chase looked at her sharply. “There’s a nice Altairian-style bath near the studio on Cormoran.”
Too weary to attempt her hard-won Kiara charms, Bo shook her head. “It’s not the same.”
“Why not?”
Well for one, there was a firing squad on stand-by for her on Cormoran and she had no intention of leaving Blade’s side. Bo bit her lips to keep from saying something she would regret.
“I hate to disappoint you both, but I’m under orders to return him to Trisdos for his recovery.”
Chase’s eyes narrowed and he lifted his chin in challenge. “Whose orders?”
“Lord Marin’s,” Kendall said with a smug smile. “The Sovran overrides your wishes in the matter.”
“That’s what you think,” Chase said.
The medic looked nervously from Chase to Kendall. He quickly finished making his notations in his log and slipped back out.
Bo looked to Blade for support and found none. His face pale and drawn, he closed his eyes to shut out the argument going on around him. Though his body was healing, his growing apathy worried her. Ever since that private interview with Kendall, he’d become increasingly withdrawn. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he dreaded getting better. She desperately wanted to talk to him to find out what was bothering him, but they hadn’t had a moment of privacy; Agent Kendall had seen to that. The stress of maintaining a public face was wearing on the both of them.
The two men’s voices grew louder as they argued. The lines in Blade’s face deepened. He turned his face towards the wall.
Bo rose and reluctantly released her hold on his hand. “Gentlemen! Do you mind?”
Both men stopped and looked to her.
“Will you please take this discussion outside so Blade can rest?”
Chase looked chastened, but not cowed. He glared at Kendall. “She’s right,” he said. “Let’s go. My brother doesn’t need the upset.”
Kendall nodded tersely. “There’s nothing to discuss. He’s going to Trisdos.” With one meaningful look at Chase, he brushed past him and out the door.
Chase looked to Bo, then his brother before following him out. “His home is on Cormoran, not Trisdos.”
“Well, you can come, too…”
The door slid shut behind them, cutting off the rest of the discussion. In the silence, Blade breathed a sigh of relief. Bo resumed her seat beside his bed. His blue eyes opened and he stared up at the ceiling without any discernible interest.
“Where do you want to go, flyboy?” Bo asked softly.
He turned his gaze to her.
“Anywhere you want. Just name it and I’ll take you there myself.”
He stared at her for a long moment. With a small sigh, he closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened his eyes, he resumed his study of the ceiling.
“Don’t be like this, Dev.” She slipped her hand into his. “I came so close to losing you…I just want…I just want to take care of you and I can’t go to either Trisdos or Cormoran.”
“I don’t want to go to Trisdos or Cormoran,” he said. His voice was rough.
“So it’s settled,” she said. “We’ll go to Altair.”
“I can’t go to Altair, either.”
“Well, tell me where.”
“I feel so damn useless.”
Bo smiled sadly. “You are not useless,” she said. “You’re just beat to hell. You’ve got to give your body time.”
“I don’t have time,” he sighed. “It’s bad enough with you and Chase fighting over who gets to take me home like some stray pet.” Blade shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway. None of us are going to get a say in it. I hate Trisdos. It’s too damn civilized.”
“Fine,” she said. “Not Trisdos. Where then? Tell me.” Bo eased onto the bed beside him and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “Anywhere you want. Just name it. I’m The Barron. I have a ship. We’ve got the whole big Commonwealth out there just waiting. You and me. Let’s run away. ”
She couldn’t think of anything better. No more responsibility. No more worrying about clearing her name. No more diplomatic pouches. She sighed and snuggled closer to him. Before she could lose herself in the fantasy of a carefree life on the run with Blade, the door slid open.
Bo sat up quickly. A guilty flush warmed her cheeks.
A humanoid male, small in stature and slight of frame, stood in the doorway. His features were round and pleasant, not dissimilar from Bo’s own people. His skin was a darker brown than Gena’s and creased with the radiation damage that could only come from unprotected hours out in a harsh sunlight. His large dark eyes darted nervously around the room before he took two tentative steps in. Not too much taller than Bo, he pulled a small white hat from his head and gripped it tightly in his fist. His straight hair gleamed black as deep space. He swallowed anxiously and looked from her to Blade and then around the room once more as if trying to work up the courage to speak.
“Can I help you?” Bo smiled pleasantly.
“Te sa?” The odd little man looked hopefully to Blade.
Blade lifted his head. A glimmer of interest flickered in his eyes as he met the man’s stare. “Middo?”
The man, Middo, broke into a wide, relieved grin and nodded. “I am sorry, sa Blade,” he said, his voice heavily accented. “It has taken me longer to find you than I thought it would. Tahar bid me come to you.”
With great difficulty, Blade struggled to lift himself up onto his elbows. “Tahar?” he said. “Tahar sent you?”
Middo nodded. “Tahar bid me to bring you home,” he said. “So I come.”
Blade looked to the date on the board. “You would have had to have left Kah Lahtrec before the accident to be here already,” he said.
Bo looked from one to the other, feeling as if she were missing part of the conversation. “Kah Lahtrec?” she echoed. “You mean that little planet in the Outland Fringe? The one where you shot The Life and Times of Cantrell?”
Blade nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off Middo.
Middo shrugged. “I don’t know about the accident you speak of,” he said. “Tahar saw your need and your desire to come home. ‘Middo,’ he say, ‘Te sa Blade is hurt and he wants to come home. Now is time to repay your debt to him.’ So I come.”
“What debt?”
“I saved Middo’s life,” Blade said. “He’s come to repay the favor.”
Middo nodded. “Yes, te mem sa. Tahar says it is time, so I come.”
Blade turned to Bo. His eyes held more life than she’d seen since he climbed onto that damn hovercycle at the starting line. Hope flickered to life in her chest.
“You said anywhere, Bo,” he said. “I want to go to Kah Lahtrec.”
With a smile, she nodded. “I can have my ship here in twenty minutes.”
“No…Bo…I need Middo to take me home,” he said. “You can’t come.”
His words cut her to the quick. Her smile faded. “I see,” she said.
He touched her cheek. “I would love nothing better than to run away with you,” he said softly. “But there are three little words that make that impossible.”
“Oh?” She lifted her chin, jerking away from his touch. “What are they?”
“Duty…responsibility…service.”
The Barron Clan motto. Filled with shame
, Bo looked away, unable to meet his knowing gaze.
His fingers lightly caressed her cheek again. “Hey…”
Reluctantly, she looked at him.
“If we run away now, like this, we’ll be running forever. We’ll never be able to stop. If I took you away from your people, you’d only end up hating me for it. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but somewhere down the line, you would. Kendall isn’t going to let me go to Cormoran or Altair. He’s taking me to Trisdos no matter what. Going to Kah Lahtrec with Middo is my only option. If you can provide a diversion for us to get away, when I get there I’ll be outside the jurisdiction of the Commonwealth and under the protection of the Tryrium. Kendall won’t be able to touch me without creating an interstellar incident.”
“What leverage does he have on you?”
His lips twitched in a mirthless smile. “State secrets. That’s all I can tell you.”
Bo eased off the bed and back into her seat. His hand tightened on hers when she would have pulled it away.
She cleared her throat. “Where do you think you’re going to get a ship? There’s no regular transport to Kah Lahtrec. At least let me take you there. I won’t stay…”
“The Tryrium sent his Hebla boat,” Middo said as if that solved everything.
“Hebla boat?”
“Deep-space yacht,” Blade said.
Bo lifted her chin. “I see,” she said again. “I guess you really don’t need me then.”
He squeezed her hand. “I always need you, love, but you can’t come with me to Kah Lahtrec. Not this time.”
In a flash of anger, she jerked her hand from his.
“It’s complicated.”
With an annoyed growl, Bo jumped to her feet. “When is it ever anything else?!” In a fit of pique she spun on her heel and headed for the door. “I’m over hearing how complicated it is!”
The nerve of the man!
She’d nearly made her escape when his quiet voice stopped her.
“I will need you to keep Kendall busy while Middo and I blow this place.”
She stopped, her hand poised beside the door controls. She used to be a very even-tempered person, independent and self-assured. The old Bo, the Consular Guard officer, the one who had never been convicted of treason, would have kept walking…or better yet, she never would have gotten herself tangled up with a man like Blade Devon in the first place.
“And I hate to ask, but I need a favor from your boss.”
Bo slowly turned and folded her arms across her chest. “What?”
So much for the old Bo.
“I need him to erase any evidence that Middo was ever here.”
That was asking a lot. He never asked favors of her boss. They had agreed a long time ago to keep her work with Redmaster Blue out of their conversations. Her eyes narrowed. He was changing the rules. She didn’t like it.
“You owe me, Devon.”
He smiled that slow, crooked smile that made audiences swoon. “I’m good for it.”
With a long-suffering sigh, she rolled her eyes.
Of course he was. He was Blade freakin’ Devon. She would do it. They both knew it. All he had to do was flash that lopsided grin at her and she lost whatever self-respect she had. She was no better than millions of other twitter-pated females the Commonwealth over.
“If I ever find out you’ve got another woman stashed somewhere…”
He slowly shook his head. “There’s no other woman, Bo.”
Bo unfolded her arms and tapped her com-implant. “Hey, Boss? I’ve got a favor to ask…”
CHAPTER SIX
Rain tapped impatiently in a syncopated tempo against the ancient mullioned windows.
Galen Barron massaged his forehead with the pads of his blunt fingers and leaned back in the lumpy, worn, tufted leather chair. He sighed and ran his hand over the smooth skin on top of his head before rubbing the short, bristly hair that wrapped around the back of his skull. There was simply no way around it. He lacked the proper authority to do the job of Mondhuic Regent as it needed to be done. Whether he liked it or not, some things still required the approval and attention of the young Barron, never mind the fact that she was a wanted felon. The people expected an Ostra address from The Barron. In her father’s absence, she would have to present it.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if she bothered to act like one of the Commonwealth’s Most Wanted. Stupid child. She flaunted herself like a harlot with one of the most dangerous Inner Circle agents the First Sector had ever trained, not to mention the most publicly visible. If not for the fact that she enjoyed Blade Devon’s protection, Galen would have been done with her by now. Not only did Devon have the favor of the First Sector Sovran, he’d also made it clear that he’d tolerate no attacks on his Kiara Joy Babe. Fortunately, only a precious few in the Commonwealth knew that Devon’s Companion was the Ostra child, The Barron Apparent.
She should have joined with his son, Jaden, years ago as he’d planned. Then he’d have the authority to do everything he needed to do. But he should have known better. Bo never did anything exactly the way she was supposed to. She was too much like her father…and that useless uncle of hers, stubborn to a fault and hobbled by a nebulous set of lofty ideals from a bygone era. Duty. Responsibility. Service.
“Hah!” The sound of his voice reflected off the stone walls hit his ear with a brittle edge. He winced at the sound of it breaking the quiet.
Like scattered applause, raindrops splashed their approval in the puddles outside his window. He glared at the window, silently cursing the gray weather that seemed to mock him. Pushing himself away from the desk, he rose and went to the window to glower his displeasure at the nasty weather.
The Gallis Highlands were cold and damp this time of year. Caer Daecus was a drafty old pile of bluestone clinging precariously to the rugged sentinel mountain. This arm of the range marked the river-carved Bluestone Valley. On a clear day, it was said, The Barron could see the ships taking off and landing all the way over in New Gallis. The capitol city sprawled across a portion of the plateau. It was the home of Mondhuoun’s primary spaceport and Barron Academy.
Galen preferred to be there rather than at the Caer. The official State Residence in New Gallis was much more modern and comfortable. However, tradition dictated that the Ostra festivities marking the Mondhuic New Year launch from the Gallis Highlands, and there was much to do to prepare. The Mondhuic people thrived on their traditions and celebrations. Galen, who had spent much of his childhood in the First Sector while his father served as diplomatic liaison, had never developed the typical Mondhuic affinity for the endless revelries and festivals of his people.
His lips curled in distaste. They were animalistic, primitive creatures, thinking only of their base desires. Thank the Maker his mother had been an offworlder, a woman of breeding and culture. How she had endured life with his brutish father, he’d never been able to understand.
A soft, two-note melody broke the silence.
“Come.” Galen turned away from the window and squared his shoulders.
The heavy, paneled door swung silently open on ancient hinges. A young man stood in the doorway, wearing the black and white uniform of the kitchen staff. It was common practice for Mondhuic families to take in rescued orphans, whether Mondhuic or offworlders, and raise them within the clan. A strong family unit was central to Mondhuic values. The practice of fostering orphans across clan lines had been instrumental in bringing about the First Peace among the clans millennia ago. It was also a practice Galen had no compunction about exploiting for his own gain. The young servant standing in the doorway, his eyes downcast, was one such offworlder. He held a brightly-wrapped parcel in his hands and waited patiently for Galen to speak.
Galen smiled in approval. “What is it Alfic?”
Alfic didn’t look up or attempt to make eye contact, but moved into the room and shut the door behind him. “I have the Ostra sweets you requested, Regent.”
“Who made them?”
“I did, Regent,” Alfic said. “Per your specifications.”
“Good,” Galen said. “Put it on the desk.”
With a nod, the obsequious young man did as instructed and took a few steps back.
“Tell me, Alfic, how did you come to be fostered?”
He knew the answer already. Feigning an interest in the lad engendered trust and familiarity. He could use that.
Alfic glanced up at Galen. “I was twelve, sir,” he said, averting his eyes again. “The transport my family was on was raided by pirates. They killed my parents and planned to sell the rest of us to slavers in the Outland Fringe. The Black Wing rescued those of us who survived.”
“I see,” Galen said. He moved closer to the desk and rested his hand on the package. “You know who these are for, don’t you?”
Alfic nodded.
“And you realize that you can and will be put to death for this if anyone learns of your involvement, or mine?”
Alfic nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I owe The Black Wing everything. As you said, sir, the others are blind to what she stands for. She’ll bring war to Mondhuoun. I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure that doesn’t happen.”
“I will rely on your silence, Alfic,” Galen said, “for your own safety. The cook and so many of the household staff remember her as a child. They’re very fond of her personally. Most of the Black Wing is still loyal to her. If anyone learns the part you’ve played they will kill you…in the most painful possible manner.”
“You may depend on me, Regent.”
The words sent a warm quiver through Galen. Here, at last, was power he could wield on his own.
“I knew I’d made the right choice.” Galen smiled. “You may go, Alfic.”
The young man bowed and awkwardly backed away, fumbling for the door on his way out.
Galen ran his hand lightly over the package. There was more than one way to deal with that little harlot. If she was so fond of letting her base desires rule her, then let it be her undoing.
Rounding the desk, he dropped back into the hated chair. As soon as he could claim the title, he would replace that accursed piece of furniture. He keyed open the com and tapped in a connect code. A few seconds later, a holographic display lit up above the desk. Royce Barron’s two-dimensional image flickered then solidified. The chaotic noises of gunfire and battle machinery crackled and roared from the com speakers.