by J. C. Hay
Working together is unavoidable. Falling in love…inevitable.
An Impulse Power Story
Syna Davout thought it was supposed to be a simple smash-and-grab job—smash onto a luxury yacht, grab the cash, and split the proceeds with the client. Unfortunately, the client failed to mention that she’s the diversion for an assassination attempt that destroys the yacht and leaves her with a passenger she never expected. A fugitive telepath caught in the middle of a revolution.
Galen Fash thought his days were numbered. The fledgling revolution on his homeworld needs him to buy them time, with his life if necessary. The last thing he needs is to get involved with a pirate captain-for-hire whose larger-than-life emotions draw him like a moth to a flame.
Inexorably, Syna is dragged into a war that isn’t hers, and they both discover—between knock-down-drag-outs—that their whole is far stronger than the sum of their parts. Dodging the enemies that want them both dead will be hard enough. First, they have to survive each other…
Warning: this book contains Space Vikings, gossipy AIs, boxing-as-foreplay, rogue telepaths and a demanding pirate captain who likes to be in charge. The author will not be held responsible for a desire to punch your partner in the jaw, or a sudden awareness of latent psionic ability.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Hearts and Minds
Copyright © 2010 by J.C. Hay
ISBN: 978-1-60504-904-5
Edited by Sasha Knight
Cover by Kanaxa
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: February 2010
www.samhainpublishing.com
Hearts and Minds
J.C. Hay
Dedication
For my life, my heart, my partner. I could never do this without you, Becca.
Special thanks as well to Shannan and Christian, who were brutal in their early reads and made Hearts and Minds possible.
Chapter One
The air in the assault pod smelled stale, so Syna left the hatch open as long as possible. The musty odor was a sign that the scrubbers were getting old. Replacing those cost money, which she should have in abundance in slightly longer than twenty-four hours. First, however, she had to get through the waiting. Her arms and legs ached, wound like springs in anticipation. Her foot tapped on the floor of the pod in a rapid staccato. “What’s the situation, Bree?”
The computer replied in relaxed tones, the same calm voice it always used. “We’re thirty seconds from approach burn. Seventy from main power cutoff, Captain.”
“Good. Keep me posted.” Too long. The moments before a boarding action stretched out like eternity, too much time to think about all the things that might go wrong. Too much time to second-guess every detail. Syna longed for the actual launch, when all prep would be over and it was make or break.
“Beginning approach burn on mark. And mark.”
There was a low rumble as the engine sprang to life. All around her, the pod shook in its harness—sympathetic to the vibrations of its housing ship. Syna counted backwards from twenty, fingers checking her straps one final time. At five she gripped the handle of the pod’s hatch.
“Position achieved, Captain. We’re floating towards the rendezvous point as planned.” The AI sounded smug, as if reporting its successful maneuver seemed redundant. Syna had heard of artificial intelligences gaining sentience before, just never one as small as a shipboard system. Bree never failed to surprise.
“Nice work, Bree.”
“Of course, Captain. Preparing for main power shut off. You should close your pod now.”
Syna grinned and tugged. The heavy hatch slammed down and pressurized with a soft hiss of air. A thin red light came on in the pod, just enough to see the mirror of the ship’s instruments. “You still there?”
The voice came from a speaker inside the pod, tinny, with a bit of static from the transmission, but unmistakably Bree. “Where else would I be, Captain? Main power shut off—now.”
Through the viewport in the pod, she saw the ship’s corridor go dark. They were inert now, another piece of space debris racing in an unstable orbit around Hamunaptra. With any luck it would get them close enough to launch the pod without getting detected.
Syna thought back to the planetside dive where her client had contracted her. A dingy vid-unit had blared something about another bombing in the government sector, while the client offered her enough money to keep the Hangman’s Quarry in the air for a year in exchange for a simple smash-and-grab job. It had been enough to lure her out of semi-retirement. More than enough to buy off any apprehension she might have had at another boarding action after the mess in Yggdrasil.
Yggdrasil—she had a sudden vision of Anbjorn pulled down beneath a tide of saffron-jacketed soldiers and bit the inside of her cheek to regain her focus. No time for memories. No time for regrets. “Keep talking to me, Bree.”
“Preparing to launch pod, Captain. Target ship is sighted.”
“Describe her to me.” Anything to take her mind off the waiting. Anything to keep her from thinking about the past.
“Narcissus-class personal yacht. Minimum crew one, maximum three. Heat signatures abnormal, leading me to believe the owner has modified the engines heavily.”
“Jealous, Bree?”
“Of course not, Captain. I can fly circles around that heap.” Syna chuckled while the AI continued. “And I don’t need unsanctioned modifications to do it.”
“Your programmers left modesty circuits out, didn’t they.”
“On the contrary, I was programmed to understand my limitations completely.”
“Oh, of course. Anything else I should know about the target?”
“Not much to go on, Captain. I didn’t want to alert them with a scan.”
Of course not, it would defeat the entire purpose of running dark. The AI’s systems and the pod’s life support were both minimal signatures, well below the normal threshold for a sensor array. Without the mains on line, there was little chance of the Quarry being picked up with anything less than a deliberate and thorough search. And even then the sensor operator would have to know they were there. Syna twisted, scratching her back against the acceleration pad behind her.
“Maximum number aboard for a Narcissus-class?”
“At full occupancy, passengers and crew, no more than fifteen. And life support could only handle that many for in-system trips.”
Wonderful, at the best it’d be an even fight, at worst she’d be outnumbered fifteen to one. Assuming they decided to resist at all. Syna hoped the element of surprise would eliminate that idea from their minds. Bree had planned to launch the pod at the precise moment the yacht crossed out of the magnetosphere. The transition created a sensor shadow that could allow a skilled pirate to attach without being detected.
“What’s the count, Bree?”
“Twenty seconds to launch, Captain. Be ready.”
“No prayers for the Mother of Machines to protect me?�
�
“Sorry, Captain. I wasn’t programmed to be superstitious, either.”
“Very well. Count my final five.” Syna checked her straps another time, made certain her monoblade was still at her hip. The ache in her legs seemed to fill her entire lower body.
“Launch in five, Captain. Four.” Bree’s voice continued to be warm and affectionate, but Syna could have sworn the machine sounded eager. “Three.” She suspected the AI appreciated being employed for nonstandard purposes. “Two.” Piracy tested the boundaries of its abilities, which Bree seemed to enjoy. “Launch.”
The pod flared white and lurched with launch acceleration. The Gs slammed Syna into the thick pad and turned the edges of her vision red as blood leaked into her retinas. She thumbed the switch on her autodrug and flooded her system with adrenaline. Clarity rushed into her brain, and the lead fled from her limbs with a scream of synthetic endorphins. Syna’s eyes snapped open, the red haze receding as her blood pressure spiked.
At long last, the moment had come.
The time for thinking had ended. Now there was only action.
“We’ve got company.” Jonas flipped a switch and tapped on the forward scanner. “Small ship. Shu-class. Looks like the Tse aren’t going to let us go without a fight.”
Galen checked the monitor. The white-green blur above Jonas’s finger was too regular, too steady in course, to be anything other than a ship. Jonas’s nervousness brushed at the edges of Galen’s perception, and he pushed it away. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
“I doubt it.” Another light blinked into life on the console. “They’re firing a pod.”
“Boarders? That seems risky.”
Jonas brushed the two metal studs in his temple—a present from the Hegemony’s academy on Xianshi. “Not if they want to take us alive.”
Galen’s flight response kicked in, a moment of terror at the rumors of the horrors the Tse inflicted on those with psi-talent. He felt a gentle push from Jonas to calm him. The only problem with sending two psions on a mission, they tended to feed off each other’s emotions. Unfortunately, circumstances demanded it.
It could be worse. At least we aren’t lovers.
“You’re not my type, for starters.”
Galen glanced over at Jonas, brow furrowed at the touch of his partner’s voice in his head. “Surface scanning? That’s so rude.”
“You’re tough to miss. You’re broadcasting so badly, you may as well have a loudspeaker.”
“I’ll try and tone it down then. Put us on an evasive course, I’m going to head back and repel them. With only one pod, they can’t be sending more than two people.” Two soldiers, likely trained in black-ops and psi-retrieval, and likely completely resistant to any manipulation he could push towards them. He left that part unspoken. They had both understood the danger when they’d agreed to the trip.
Besides, Jonas could pluck it out of his brain without needing to hear it aloud.
The main room would make an effective bottleneck—the handful of corridors on the small yacht all fed into it, and Galen could hold the bridge corridor as a fallback position. Worst-case scenario, they could drop through the emergency shuttle underneath the bridge. That would get at least one of them out alive, and as long as one was alive, there was hope to complete the mission.
“Pod contact in thirty seconds.” Jonas’s voice came over the comm-unit in the wall.
Galen pressed the switch. “I thought you were going to evade.”
“They’ve got a lock on us. Whoever’s piloting that thing knows what he’s doing.”
A deep metallic bang sent a shiver through the yacht as grappling magnets gripped the hull. “I thought you said we had thirty seconds!”
Jonas yelled down the hall, his voice amplified by the echo. “New contact! New contact! Bastards must’ve launched a second pod while we were in the shadow!”
On cue a second clang echoed through the ship as the other pod attached itself.
Galen tapped an access code into the weapons locker in the corridor. As it hissed open, he slid his hand around the slow-moving door and grabbed a fléchette pistol and two clips. No time for games. He would not let them take him alive. Not to be some subject for a Tse scientist on Xianshi.
The clip slid into the pistol and acted to counterbalance the firing mechanism. Loaded, the weapon became so perfectly balanced as to be weightless. Galen ran to the main room and dropped to one knee behind a table. No comm-unit waited nearby, so he took a deep breath and focused his thoughts. “Any more pods?”
Jonas’s thoughts came back clear. “Negative. They’re holding position on the edge of firing range.”
Galen braced the pistol across the top of the table and hoped he was a small target. The yacht wasn’t designed for shipboard combat. All he could see was the amount of open space even his best defensive position presented. The Tse excelled at shipboard combat, and he was certain they were already planning their best assault based on the layout of the yacht. Two pods. Four attackers. A gambling man would have bet against him.
Galen loved to play the long odds. The Tse were methodical—they acted according to strict procedures. He changed his plan on the spur of the moment. A quick push and he vaulted up over the table and towards the aft corridor.
He found them coming in through the rear lock, the black interior of their assault pod still visible through the door. The two soldiers wore saffron-colored vac-suits, the look of surprise evident on their faces as they heard him charge.
Galen fired his fléchette pistol. A cloud of ceramic needles buzzed from the muzzle and shattered harmlessly against the faceplate of one of the soldiers. The trooper winced away, even as his comrade focused on Galen as a threat. It was the opening Galen needed.
He pushed, hard as he could, to overcome any defenses the grunt had in place. You’re suffocating. No air. Something’s wrong with your suit. Pain flared behind Galen’s right eye, and something warm dripped from his nose. Damn, ruptured something.
The soldier screamed and grabbed at his helmet. Thick-gloved fingers threw open latches as he ripped the can off his shoulders. Galen fired again, and this time the fléchettes found meat and bone instead. The soldier collapsed, just as his partner brought an autofléchette to bear.
“New pod! New pod! New pod!” Jonas shouted over the comm and in Galen’s head simultaneously.
Galen dropped behind a bulkhead as the rifle barked in the soldier’s hands. Shards exploded against the walls and burned through Galen’s shirt. He felt a few break the skin; nothing permanent, nothing serious.
The soldier fired again as Galen jumped back into the main room. The second shot ripped into his calf. Needles buried themselves in the muscle, and Galen shrieked in pain.
“You okay?” Jonas’s presence in Galen’s skull calmed him. He took a breath, felt Jonas tripping the pathways that blocked the pain in his leg, prepared himself for another push into the Tse’s mind. He could taste the blood on his lips now, felt it run in a slow current from his nose.
“Yeah. There’s only two down here. Where’s the other pod?”
In an answer to his question, the door from one of the side corridors opened and another soldier—a woman, with no vac-suit—charged into the room.
Syna exploded through the door and plowed into the soldier, shoulder first. The Tse fell back and tried to bring his autofléchette to bear, but Syna already had her monoblade in hand. She pulled back on the blade’s activator and the monomolecular edge of the sword blurred into life. The soldier blanched at the characteristic shriek of the blade, and she could see him mouth the weapon’s feared nickname—screamsword.
The fear in the Tse’s eyes didn’t register. Syna saw only Anbjorn screaming, his axe rising and falling in lethal arcs as the saffron-suited soldiers overwhelmed him. Her heart felt like a lump of ice, her rage the only fire that could melt it free.
To his credit, the soldier responded quickly, his rifle swinging up to block the shot with a speed born of r
eflex. Against any other weapon it would have been enough. Against the sub-microscopic edge of her screamsword it was as effective as air. The blade split the rifle without resistance and continued into the torso beyond. Syna saw the soldier gasp in surprise, then kicked him free of the blade and sent his corpse tumbling back.
Bastards. What in the seven hells were the Tse doing out on the frontier? It was one thing to see them well within Hegemony borders, like Yggdrasil, but out here on the edge of civilized space? Her hopes of a decent plunder washed away on a tide of anger and bloodlust. Nothing personal, she tried to convince herself, a business decision, not revenge. The Tse would never allow her to take anything off-ship now that they controlled it, so it was in her best interests to remove the interlopers as fast as possible.
“Bree, I’ve got Tse on board, where’d they come from?”
“A warship pulled out of the lunar shadow at roughly the same time as we did. I don’t think they’ve seen us.”
“How many assault pods?”
“Two made contact, they could be holding some in reserve.” The computer sounded annoyed at the change in plans, frustrated that it hadn’t detected the tiny assault craft until too late. Syna felt a pang of sympathy—she hated being reminded of her own fallibility.
“Can you target their home ship?”
“Negative, Captain, not without giving away our position. Normal weapon payloads can’t reach me from their current location.”
“Monitor that. If they close on you, I want them hulled. Got me?”
“Affirmative, Captain. I can try and detect how many are on board. How many crew are left?”
Syna froze. Crew. She’d forgotten about the Tse’s opponent. The monoblade still shrieking, she turned to find him. He sat on the floor a few feet away, a fléchette pistol in a two-handed grip and trained on her center of mass.
She released the blade’s trigger and it fell silent. “Where are the others? How many crew on board?”