by Unknown
Guards suddenly appeared rushing toward them down the corridor.
“What happened here?” one of the men asked after introducing himself as the chief of security.
After relating to the security chief what had transpired, Shanee told him she’d brief the captain. “You might as well jettison him now. You can do a retinal scan but there’s not a chance in a million of finding out who he is,” she said.
“He called himself Franklin and he just signed on this trip,” the chief said. “Kept to himself.”
“Typical Storian professional,” she allowed. “Get this prick out of here.”
“Aye, aye, Ma’am. If I need any more information from you, Colonel, I’ll get in touch.”
“Whatever,” she quipped then took Ailyn’s arm as two guards picked up the dead man to take him to the morgue. “Let’s go. I’m hungry,” she said, and pulled him along with her.
“That’s it?” he asked her. “That’s all the response you’re going to show? You killed a man, ionúin.”
“What would you have me do, ehemann? Flutter my eyes and faint? Fall into your arms and sob?” She snorted. “Not gods-be-damned likely you’ll ever see me do either. He struck, I counterattacked and he died. End of story.”
“I would have killed him for you,” he said.
“There was no need. I can fight my own battles.”
When they reached the VIP dining hall, the captain had already been apprised of what had happened. He apologized profusely, made sure Ailyn had not been harmed and invited them to take a seat. The others at the table also voiced their concern.
“We are fine,” Ailyn said, sensing the annoyance that was lurking just beneath the surface of his wife’s barely civil disposition. “It’s all over with.”
“Not a very good welcome back to military life,” the healer commented.
“Oh Colonel, your mother sent a message asking you to contact her first thing when you return to your quarters tonight,” the captain said.
Shanee’s head snapped up. “When was this?”
“She called while you were en route to the dining hall,” Captain Bartlett replied. “I told her what had happened but assured her you were all right.”
Glaring at the man, Shanee asked from where her mother was calling.
“She is staying in your quarters on Riezell,” Bartlett reported.
Ailyn saw a muscle jump in his lady’s cheek and knew she was a breath away from exploding with fury. Her hands were clenched into fists in her lap and her gray eyes were sparking fire, her lips pressed tightly together. He reached out to place his hand over hers. He felt her jump then snap her attention to him.
“I am here,” was all he needed to say to calm her down.
Shanee let the tension drain from her rigid shoulders and she tried to smile although her lips would not obey the command. Ailyn’s warm flesh on hers was a promise of more than just unity. He was letting her know he had her back.
The rest of the evening passed intolerably slowly for Shanee and she was thankful nearly all the questions and remarks were aimed at her husband and she was being all but ignored. His ordeal on R-9, his intriguing status as a Reaper, his tales of life on Theristes, held those at the table spellbound. She was keenly aware of his polite answers, his calm voice, even his laugh now and again but since he was sitting beside her, her attention would drop to his right leg as it bounced up and down, an unmistakable sign of his agitation.
Walking hand in hand back to the elevator later, they were quiet, each lost in his or her own thoughts.
“Was that as excruciatingly boring to you as it was to me?” she asked as they waited for the elevator doors to open.
“I’ve had worse times,” he admitted, “but it’s been awhile.” The doors opened and he put a hand to the small of her back to usher her inside the empty cage. “I suppose I’ll have to readjust myself to a social life.”
“I don’t have one so you need not worry on that account,” she said as the doors closed. She frowned. “You aren’t going to want to start a social life, are you?”
He shook his head. “Not high on my list of things to do to make up for twenty years of exile,” he said. “I don’t know that I will always be capable of playing nicely.”
“Just the thought of having to return my mother’s call irks the shit out of me,” she snapped. “And to think that woman was given access to my quarters! There’s no telling how much snooping she’s done by now.”
“I hope you don’t keep a diary,” he said.
“Of course not,” she snapped. “That’s a silly female thing to do.”
“Far be it for you to do anything so impractical,” he teased.
The elevator stopped and they walked out, were quiet until they reached her door.
“I’d rather take a beating with a Dóigra than return her call,” she said.
“Dóigra?” he questioned.
She shrugged as the door shushed back on its pneumatic hinges. “An Amazeen weapon,” she explained. “It has a star-shaped glass ball on the end used to burn flesh.” She pointed to her own Dóigra that stood in one corner of her quarters.
“Ouch,” he commented, having missed the wicked-looking thing before. It didn’t look like anything he’d like to have applied to him.
“You should have brought your spear,” she told him. “We could have crossed them on the wall.”
The vid-com screen was pulsing a light pearly gray color—not intrusive but not something that could be overlooked either. It was a not-too-subtle reminder that a call had been generated and a reply was requested.
“Might as well get it over with,” Shanee grumbled. “Vid-com on!”
The face of Queen Polemusa, the defense queen of Amazeen, appeared instantly on the screen. She wasted no time getting to the point. “You took your time getting back to me, Shanee. Were you hurt in the attack?”
“No, Mother,” Shanee replied. “I’m sure the captain said as much to you.”
“He’s a man,” the queen scoffed. “He can’t be trusted.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is that the Reaper with you?”
Ailyn had sat down in a chair, an ankle crossed over his knee. His elbows were on the chair arms, his fingers steepled as he stared at the vid-com screen. “I am Ailyn Harmattan,” he said. “Your daughter’s mate.”
“A Reaper,” the queen sneered. “A male warrior of supposedly incomparable abilities though not as good a fighter as an Amazeen.”
“Try me sometime, sweeting,” Ailyn drawled, his voice hard. “Any time you feel you want to get your ass put down, look me up.” An evil smile pulled at his lips. “I’ll be happy to oblige you.”
Shanee’s mouth dropped open and she turned to stare at her husband. No one dared speak to her mother in such a way and to have Ailyn do so put unbridled fear for his life in his mate’s heart. “Ailyn!” she hissed in warning.
“Why are you disturbing Shanee?” Ailyn asked, ignoring his wife.
Polemusa’s gray eyes widened. “How dare you allow him to speak to me in such a fashion, Shanee! Chastise that man and send him away so we can discuss our business.”
“Any business you have with my woman, you have with me,” Ailyn snapped. “State it and be gone. We’ve had a boring evening with boring, pretentious people and I’m getting a fucking migraine.”
Sputtering with outrage, Polemusa cursed vehemently in her native Amazeen language. Her face had mottled with anger and her eyes were as hot as the fires of hell. “You despicable cur!” she insulted Ailyn.
“You meddlesome old hag,” Ailyn threw right back at her.
“Bastard!”
“Bitch.”
Shanee was so astonished all she could do was turn her head from vid-com to husband as though she were at an old-fashioned tennis match.
Another wild curse propelled Polemusa up and out of her chair. She doubled her fists and braced her weight on them as she leaned on the desk before her.
“I received word an attempt was made on your life
three months or so ago and that you nearly died, Shanee. Since you had not bothered to inform me what had happened I came to Riezell to speak to you, to talk sense into you about this ridiculous job you have undertaken with the Guardians. I want you…”
“We don’t give a Diabolusian rat’s ass what you want,” Ailyn interrupted her, his face as hard as flint, eyes as cold as ice. “Shanee is a grown woman—a married woman—and is no longer answerable to you or her tribe since you tossed her out for following the dictates of her conscience. If all you’re doing is calling to complain, we don’t care to hear it and now you can end the call.”
“How dare you!” Polemusa shouted.
“Vid-com off!” Ailyn ordered and the screen went black. “Turn off for the evening.”
Completely stunned by her husband’s take-charge attitude, Shanee just stared at him. He was sitting in the same position, his eyes on her now instead of the vid-com screen, and his face was once again calm and relaxed.
“You’ve made an enemy of her, ehemann,” she predicted.
A slow smile turned his face even more handsome. “Not at all. She’ll want to meet me face-to-face to size me up. She knows I’ve put her on notice and she won’t dare ignore me again. If I have to fight her, I will, but I’m warning you now, I will be the victor in the duel and when I put her down, it won’t be easy and it won’t be pretty, but she will know her place.”
She had no doubt of that. Her Reaper had the strength of ten men, which meant he had at least that much strength against an Amazeen.
“You’ve been so calm up until now,” she said, amazed and intrigued by what she perceived as a remarkable transition—no play on the word intended.
“There is an old Gaelachuan saying that there is always calm before the storm,” he reminded her. “Well, little Amazeen, you’re looking at a tornado in the making if your mother doesn’t back off and leave you the hell alone.”
“But you…”
“You, my precious wife, are not the only one whose persona changed the moment she stepped on this ship,” he said. “Though there were many things you changed in me on Theristes, there was one I would never have anticipated.” He uncrossed his legs and stood up, adjusting the buckle of his belt, hitching up his black leather uniform pants. He put his hands on his hips and gave her a solemn look. “This afternoon as I read all there was to be found about my supposed death, what happened to us at R-9, I came to understand that I have an obligation here. I am a Reaper. I now accept what I am and the gods help any man—or woman—who dares challenge me.”
Chapter Nine
Shanee could not help but feel proud as she walked beside her husband through the hallowed, secretive halls of Command Central. Men stepped aside when they recognized that black uniform with its silver raven insignia and the Reaper triangle. Women actually trembled as he passed and many a door was hastily opened and shut.
“I believe you are scaring them, ehemann,” she whispered to him.
The right side of Ailyn’s mouth twitched upward in a quick grin. “That is my intention, ionúin.”
She had trouble accepting the change in her man. He was no longer the calm, accepting male she had come to know on Theristes. Here was a warrior with whom to reckon and she literally trembled at the thought of what his presence here at Command Central was doing to the people. Though in private he was the same loving, gentle, compassionate and fiery lover, outside among the populace, his face was stony, his eyes hard and his bearing rigid.
Damn but I’m as wet as a schoolgirl, she thought, and knew he had intercepted that musing for he turned his head and looked down at her, one dark brow lifted.
“Oh yeah?” he growled.
“Oh yeah,” she stated.
Miriam Quillan glanced up as they came into her office, looked down and then snapped her head back up, her mouth dropping open. She shot to her feet. “Milord!” she said, her face draining of color.
Before Shanee could gloat over the secretary’s unease, Ailyn stepped forward.
“Miri, isn’t it?” he asked, holding out a hand.
Miriam’s head bobbed up and down and she slowly lowered her gaze to his outstretched hand. Timidly, she placed her hand in his.
“Miri?” Shanee questioned, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, dearling,” he said, and lifted her hand to his lips, his gaze never leaving Miriam’s.
Shanee wanted to scratch the other woman’s eyes out and had to dig her fingernails into her palms to keep from throwing herself on Quillan and doing just that.
“Thank you for all you’ve done. It is greatly appreciated,” Ailyn said, and released the secretary’s hand.
“It was m-my honor, milord,” Miriam replied. She cast Shanee a quick glance.
“No, she doesn’t know but I will inform her later,” the Reaper said softly.
“Know what?” Shanee demanded then blinked as full realization hit her. “You? You are the…?”
“Is General Strom ready to meet with us?” Ailyn interrupted his wife.
Shanee snapped her mouth shut and blushed, realizing she had been about to blurt out something that could cause untold ripples of trouble.
“Aye, milord. He…” Miriam began.
“Ailyn,” he said. “My name is Ailyn and that is what my friends call me.”
Miriam smiled. “Ailyn,” she repeated. “I am honored to be considered a friend.”
“Husband,” Shanee barked. “Ailyn is my husband so don’t you be getting any ideas, Miri!”
Miriam frowned. “You two are Joined?” she asked.
“Aye, dearling,” Ailyn replied. “Now would you let the general know we’re here?”
As soon as Miriam informed General Strom of Ailyn and Shanee’s arrival, he came hurrying out of his office, his face breaking into a wide grin. He thrust his hand toward Ailyn. “Welcome home, Commander,” he said. “It’s good to have you here!”
“Commander?” Shanee queried, her voice rife with shock.
Strom shook Ailyn’s hand then turned to his Primary. “He was on the rolls all this time and if he’d been around for promotions, that rank is what he would have been given long before now. Hell, he might even be an admiral if things had been different.” He swept an arm toward his office door. “Come on in and make yourselves comfortable.” He glanced at Miriam. “Bring us a bottle of that Chrystallusian brandy the Burgon sent when I took over Command. We’ve finally got something to celebrate with it!”
Shanee took one look at her husband’s impassive face and knew he had known what was awaiting him at Command Central. He politely held her chair for her as she seated herself then sat down beside her.
“I was infuriated by the assassination attempt on the Midian,” Strom said as he walked around behind his desk and took his seat. “Any news at all on who the assailant was?”
Ailyn looked to his wife for her to answer the general’s question.
“Retinal scan did not identify him but he was Storian,” Shanee replied.
“If those Storian assassins would put even a third of their energy into helping instead of killing, Leveche wouldn’t be having such a hard time rebuilding his homeland.” He shook his head. “His father did so much damage and he let those bastards run wild, unchecked. Now I fear they are on O’Shay’s payroll.”
“Any word on Bakari?” Ailyn inquired.
“Last report I got he was on Iosrael.” He shook his head. “Missed O’Shay by mere minutes, I heard.”
“He’ll catch him,” Ailyn said.
“I’ve no doubt of that,” Strom said.
Miriam brought in a black lacquered tray that held the expensive plum brandy and three snifters. She placed the tray on Strom’s desk, removed the stopper on the bottle and poured small amounts of the fiery amber liquid into the snifters.
“Make sure we aren’t interrupted,” Strom ordered. “And if that pest comes by—he’ll have heard by now the commander is here—tell him he’d best n
ot come knocking on my door. As a matter of fact, just lock the door and take the rest of the day off.”
Miriam smiled. “That might be best, Sir.”
After she was gone, Shanee asked if the pest was Jost.
“The man has made such a gods-be-damned nuisance of himself I had to involve the arch-counselor,” Strom said with disgust. “He managed to get himself censored by the Conclave but still he persists in annoying the hell out of me.”
“I’ll handle Jost,” Ailyn said, a muscle flexing in his lean jaw. “Any news on his lady-wife?”
“She is failing more each day to hear the vice-counselor talk but my informants tell me though she has gotten progressively worse, she is not as close to dying as she or her husband would have us believe,” Strom replied.
“With my appearance here on Riezell, Colonel Iphito’s mission has been accomplished,” Ailyn stated. “Have you a new assignment for her?”
Shanee threw her husband an irritated look. “I don’t imagine that’s any of your concern, ehemann,” she snapped.
Ailyn didn’t even glance at her. He was staring straight at Strom. “I am making it my business, Shanee,” he said, and before she could say anything else, he told the general that he wanted to be partnered with the general’s Primary.
“What?” Shanee gasped, she vaulted out of her chair. “How dare you ask for me to be…”
Turning his head to give her a calm look, Ailyn smiled. “Did you notice I said I wish to be partnered with you and not the other way around, ionúin?
She snapped her mouth shut and narrowed her eyes into lethal slits before speaking. “I am a Primary Riezell Guardian, Commander. I…”
“Sit down and listen to my proposal to the general before getting your hackles up, Shanee.”
“I will not! I…”
“He outranks you, Colonel,” the general said. “I suggest you do as he ordered.”
Hissing, Shanee slammed back into the chair and glared at her husband.
“I am not questioning your abilities,” Ailyn said. “You are more than capable of taking care of yourself as you proved on the Midian. I am merely suggesting that you need someone at your back and since I would never allow another male to fill that position, I have every intention of doing so myself.”