by Gun Brooke
“Can hardly wait, Captain,” a female voice purred. Gilda White, wanted for crimes on sixteen different homeworlds, was Weiss’s head of security. The tiny blonde, with hair color to match her name, made others want to protect her, especially men. It didn’t take them long to realize she was as lethal as she seemed innocent.
“See you at the airlock.”
*
“Did you talk to Rae and Kellen today?” Chief Diplomat Dahlia Jacelon asked Armeo O’Saral M’Aido, the boy who had become her grandson after her daughter married his guardian. At age thirteen, the young Gantharian/Onotharian hybrid possessed a natural maturity that Dahlia could relate to. Sometimes their easy relationship made her feel guilty that she had never been able to experience this type of closeness with her daughter Rae when she was a girl.
“Yes,” Armeo said, bubbling with enthusiasm. “They said they can’t wait to see me. And Granddad too. He said he had a job for me when I get to Corma. They all miss me.”
“Of course they do. It’s been two months, child.” Dahlia refrained from ruffling Armeo’s hair. Having traveled through space on a luxury cruiser for weeks, they were now strolling down the main commerce street at the Keliera station, and Dahlia knew that even if Armeo didn’t mind a quick hug in public, there were limits to how grandmother-silly she was allowed to be. “And you’ve been a very pleasant traveling companion.” Dahlia turned her head and smiled at the young woman who walked behind them. “You too, Ayahliss. You’ve been a great help.”
Ayahliss blushed faintly at the praise, and Dahlia stopped and put an arm around her. She was aware of the young Gantharian woman’s idolization of Kellen and herself. Ayahliss was barely recognizable as the angry twenty-four-year-old woman who had come to stay with the Jacelons on Earth five months ago. Proper health care, nutritious food, and the comfort of a beautiful home had transformed Ayahliss. To look at her now, wearing red slacks and tunic, with her short black hair boasting a healthy shine, it was difficult to believe she had been one of the Gantharian resistance’s most lethal members.
“I feel like I’ve known you much longer than I actually have,” Dahlia said.
“If I had gone to the refugee camps with the rest of the resistance fighters, my life would have been totally different. I owe Kellen everything for taking me to stay with her family.”
“Ayahliss, she sees something in you, most likely something of herself. She knows what it’s like to be orphaned at a young age. That’s why you’re here and not on Revos Prime.”
“But Rae doesn’t perceive me that way.” Ayahliss sighed.
“Rae will, once she understands how far you’ve come and how hard you’re trying.” Dahlia knew Rae was wary of having a volatile young woman in Armeo’s presence, though she disagreed with her daughter. She had seen firsthand how Ayahliss had come to adore the young prince with every beat of her heart.
“I doubt it,” Ayahliss spat. “She won’t be impressed just because I’ve learned to use the proper fork.”
Dahlia knew Ayahliss hid her worry behind her sarcasm, a trait she and Rae had in common. “Rae and I aren’t always on the best of terms, and that has often been my fault.” Dahlia kept her eyes on Armeo, who was a few steps ahead of them, looking in the windows. Four security officers were nearby, but she never lowered her guard when it came to this child. “Rae was so different from me, and so like her father, but both my husband and I still managed not to know her, or the woman she became. Trust me. Rae won’t make the same mistake. To begin with, she may try only for Kellen’s sake, but eventually she’ll see what an amazing young woman you are.”
“Really?” Ayahliss asked quietly, and Dahlia knew that anyone seeing her like this would assume that she was a beautiful, bashful woman out shopping with her grandmother. Dahlia chuckled at the thought. Ayahliss was as lethal as Kellen was, and ten times more unpredictable. Having grown up as a street child, and later highly educated by monks who possessed unusual gifts, she was a raw diamond, with hard corners and jagged edges, in the process of being polished.
“Really. I don’t see any reason—”
“Armeo, watch out.” Ayahliss threw herself forward, launching her thin, wiry body against a tall man who was about to corner Armeo. Her heel landed in the man’s midsection, sending him staggering backward into a flower arrangement. The pots fell to the floor and broke into several pieces, dirt raining over all of them.
Plasma-pulse fire blazed repeatedly through the air, hitting two security officers. They fell to the floor, blood gushing out of their chests.
“Armeo.” Dahlia screamed and leapt forward as well, reaching for him. At the same time, hard hands pulled her back, away from Armeo and Ayahliss.
“Not so fast, Jacelon,” a female voice rasped in her ear. Something hard pressed into her ribs as the tall woman restrained her. “If you don’t calm down, this plasma-pulse will make a big hole in you, and the pulse would go straight through and could hit the prince. We can’t have that.” More people moved in on both sides of Dahlia and she tried to glimpse them as she struggled to free herself. Two burly looking men and a diminutive woman stood with weapons raised, aiming at Armeo, Ayahliss, and the guards.
The woman pulled Dahlia back and halfway through a door in the station’s bulkhead. Dahlia fought with all her strength, but she wasn’t a young woman anymore, and the plasma-pulse weapon was shoved so hard against her back, she feared it had cracked a rib.
“Grandma. No!”
To Dahlia’s horror, Armeo was running toward them, the security officers barely able to hold on to his shirt. More plasma-pulse fire singed the air to Dahlia’s left as the small woman covered her capturer’s retreat.
“Armeo. No,” Dahlia croaked. “Stay away, son.”
“But, please, Grandma, they’re hurting you.” The boy struggled furiously to free himself from the protecting arms of his guards. “Leave her alone. Let her go. I command you to let her go.”
A whirlwind of something red approached, which Dahlia barely recognized as Ayahliss in her red outfit. Much taller than the stranger, Ayahliss emitted a high-pitched battle call and sent the woman sprawling into the bulkhead. Dahlia stumbled backward as the woman holding her hauled her down the metal stairs. The bodyguards rushed forward and grabbed Ayahliss, tugging her away from the woman she’d floored.
The last thing Dahlia saw before the door closed was Ayahliss breaking free from one of the remaining bodyguards and lunging toward them.
Chapter Five
Admiral Rae Jacelon looked up from her computer as three people rushed into her office, located within the SC military base on Corma. One of them was her wife, Kellen O’Dal, accompanied by Rae’s father, Admiral Ewan Jacelon, and his aide de camp.
“Did I forget dinner again?” Rae asked, and looked first at Kellen and then at her father. Kellen seemed guarded, which was normal, but her father was pale and his features stern. Rae knew the expression. “What’s happened?” She wondered if the Gantharian-Onotharian conflict had suddenly escalated.
“We just got word from SC headquarters on Earth, Rae,” Ewan said. “It’s your mother. She’s been kidnapped.”
“What?” Rae blurted after a moment’s shocked silence and sprang from her chair. “How the hell did that happen?”
“We’re not sure, though another piece of intel might explain it,” Ewan continued. “M’Ekar has escaped. The timeline fits.”
Rae remained standing for a few seconds before her knees gave way. She sat down with a thud. “Oh, damn it.” She dug her fingertips into her computer console so hard they must have left permanent indentations.
“He probably bribed one or more of his guards to help him.”
“He has no assets to use as bribes,” Kellen said. “According to intel, the Onotharian leaders confiscated his entire estate when the SC sentenced him.”
“He could have used something other than monetary offerings to persuade someone,” Ewan said. “Promises of power, glorious careers, for instance.”
&nbs
p; “Where is Mother? What about Armeo and Ayahliss? Do we have a clue? Surely the implanted chip must have rendered M’Ekar harmless by now.”
“We think he found a way to disarm the chip. The Keliera space station confirmed our intel from headquarters. Keliera is operating at complete lockdown.” Ewan sighed.
“What about Armeo?” Kellen’s voice vibrated with an underlying dark tone.
Ewan seemed at a loss for words and his aide de camp took over. “The prince is safe, ma’am. The young woman traveling with Diplomat Jacelon was hit by plasma-pulse fire, but managed to keep the prince from being abducted as well.”
“How badly?” Kellen snapped, and held on to the backrest of the visitors’ chair she stood behind, her knuckles slowly blanching with the tension.
“Not life-threatening. Unfortunately, two of Diplomat Jacelon and the prince’s security personnel were killed during the ambush. That’s as much as we know, currently.”
“We have to go there.” Kellen looked taut and barely contained. Rae knew she must act or her wife might hijack the closest shuttle.
Ewan cleared his throat. “I’ve already ordered the Keliera station to allow the luxury cruiser they were traveling on to continue toward Corma. We’ll have more ships rendezvous with them, to make certain they’re travelling with the safest vessel possible. We’ll know more when they arrive.”
“For stars and skies,” Rae muttered. “Damn it, Father, weren’t there any indications? What about the security detail? They were traveling with an entire entourage, and their whereabouts were on a need-to-know basis.”
“I’ll keep in touch with SC headquarters and also inform our Cormanian hosts. The council is concerned, of course. If M’Ekar has your mother…” Ewan glanced at Rae, his lips thin and pale. “You know as well as I do why this is potentially disastrous, not only for our family.”
“Yes, Father.” Rae understood what he meant, but she could think of nothing but the safety of her mother. They had just begun to communicate, after years of strained, formal attitudes between them.
“I want to take a shuttle and rendezvous with Armeo and Ayahliss.” Kellen stood stiffly next to Ewan, her ice blue gaze alert and not revealing the turmoil Rae knew she was experiencing. As Protector of the Realm, Kellen was the last member of the Gantharian royal family’s guardians. Kellen never let Armeo out of her sight, unless her duty as a lieutenant in the SC military kept her from him.
Ewan took a deep breath and visibly controlled his own worry. “I’m not about to let you go off alone in a shuttle when M’Ekar and his cronies could be anywhere.” His voice softened. “We should prepare for the children’s arrival. Their ETA is tomorrow morning.”
“I can’t sit idly by when Armeo might be in danger and Ayahliss is injured.” Kellen stormed by both admirals, forcing the aide de camp to flatten himself against the wall.
Ewan put his hand up. “Let’s find out what’s going on first. As soon as we know more, we can take appropriate action.”
“You don’t understand,” Kellen hissed. “This is about Armeo.”
“But I do understand.” Ewan didn’t avert his gaze. “This is also about my wife.”
Ironclad wills clashed as Kellen’s crystalline blue eyes met Ewan’s dark gray ones.
“Kellen. Father.” Rae rose and circled the desk. “We’re wasting time. We can use the new long-range scanners to perform initial searches for traces of any vessel leaving the Keliera space station moments after the kidnapping. If it is M’Ekar, I bet he’s traveling with a civilian ship, and we might recognize its signature.”
Rae fought to think clearly, to remain as by-the-book as she would have been if this were an incident regarding a stranger. Incident. Rae wiped her palms against her uniform-clad legs. The word suggested something minor, but her mother was missing. If Dahlia was in the hands of the man who had everything to gain—and nothing remotely important to lose—by abducting her… Rae cleared her throat to loosen the forming lump. “Kellen, please, darling, listen to me. I promise, as soon as we know what we’re dealing with here, we’ll go get Armeo and Ayahliss.”
Kellen drew long even breaths, a technique Rae recognized. Her wife’s volatile nature didn’t surface often, but now, when the child she regarded as her son might be in danger, the beast tore at its tethers. “Very well, Rae. I will do as you suggest. For now.”
“For now.” Rae returned her attention to her father. Ewan’s dark eyes met hers, and his piercing stare reminded her that, under certain circumstances, he could be as deadly as Kellen. Kidnapping his wife of almost fifty years was one of those situations. “Sir, Kellen and I should join you in the mission room to monitor the progress.”
“I agree. You know M’Ekar better than anybody, except perhaps Dahlia, and you might be able to anticipate his actions.”
Rae dragged a hand through her hair. “His motives aren’t hard to guess. He wants to combine business with pleasure, in a manner of speaking. Mother is privy to classified SC information because of her level-one security clearance. He plans to make her talk.”
“What good would that do him?” Kellen asked, sounding calmer.
“He could use her information in many different ways,” Rae said. “He’ll most likely try to regain the trust of the Onotharians and thus get his old life back.”
“There’s only one glitch in such a plan,” Ewan added.
“Mother would never talk. Ever.” Rae was as sure of that as she was of her love for Kellen.
“You’re right.” Ewan cleared his voice, his lips pale and tight. “She wouldn’t.”
Rae fought to remain calm as horrific images of her mother remaining stoic and silent under one torture session after another flickered through her mind. Any method was possible. Physical assault, brain scans, truth serums, other mind-altering drugs, unscrupulous telepaths. Or all of them.
“So that leaves us only one option,” Kellen said gravely. “We have to get her back. Quickly.”
Heading for the door, Rae turned to look at Kellen, who seemed every bit as determined to pursue M’Ekar as Rae herself was. “You’d better clear the way with headquarters fast, Father,” she said abruptly. “Because no matter what, Kellen and I are going.”
*
The forest had become denser after Emeron and her team parked the hovercraft and stepped off the trail to escort Dwyn farther. They all carried heavy back-strap security carriers with enough supplies to spend two nights without the habitats.
Emeron shoved vines out of her face, annoyed that she couldn’t simply use her sidearm and cut them with a well-aimed plasma-pulse ray. She cursed the Thousand Year Pact for prohibiting such methods. Instead, she had to make sure she didn’t harm any single plant or animal within the Disi-Disi forest. The natives believed the trees had souls, as well as other superstitious garbage. Emeron briefly remembered Briijn—large, deeply set brown eyes in a furrowed, wise face—and then she slammed an inner door shut around the twitch of familiar pain. “Superstitious garbage,” she repeated to herself.
“Excuse me,” a clear voice said, as Dwyn closed the distance and stopped next to her.
“Nothing. Is this spot good enough for you?” Emeron pointed at the small clearing ahead of them.
“Perfect.” Dwyn surveyed the area. “We can make camp over there and I can use this section for samples. I found traces over an hour ago that suggest someone has tried to cover their tracks around here.”
“Really?” Emeron raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? The undergrowth is as dense here as everywhere else.” It was their fifth day in the forest, which to her looked undisturbed.
“It takes a trained eye, but I’ve documented the signs thoroughly. And I wouldn’t be surprised if we discover even more obvious ones here.”
“I thought you were looking for actual structures that someone built unlawfully. So far I haven’t seen as much as a straw bent out of shape.”
Dwyn shrugged. “You don’t know what to look for, but that’s all right
. I do.”
Emeron refused to huff out loud, but she was definitely not used to anyone talking to her like this. Dwyn was self-assured in a way that few people were around her. Though Dwyn appeared to be physically frail and ethereal, she was surprisingly stubborn and cocky when it came to her job.
“Let me show you.” Dwyn knelt just inside the clearing and motioned for Emeron to join her. Carefully she parted the knee-high, silky grass. “Here. Can you see the color of the soil here?”
“Brown.” Emeron looked indifferently at the dirt.
“Look closer.”
She felt silly, but couldn’t very well refuse. She slid nearer to Dwyn. Something mild and fruity filled her senses, and at first she thought it was the vegetation, perhaps some flower, but soon realized the scent came from Dwyn. Perplexed at herself, she inhaled stealthily.
“Well?” Dwyn prodded.
“Eh…brown, with dark streaks?”
“Exactly. Good.” Dwyn smiled brightly. “This means that soil, which should be dark brown, is now infused with a foreign substance. If we dig very carefully…” Dwyn produced a small spoon-like object. “Aha.” She held up a piece of the dirt and, to Emeron’s surprise, the black streaks were dark orange inside.
“Even I know that orange-colored dirt isn’t normal.”
“No, it’s not.” Dwyn emptied the spoon into a small canister and tucked both items back into one of her many pockets. She looked up as they rose, her silver-gray eyes sparkling, most likely from the joy of being correct. “Visible orange, in this case, means that the underground constructions have gone far. Way too far.”
“Underground? Weren’t you looking for traces of deforestation? I mean, above ground.” Emeron had lost track of where Dwyn’s thoughts were taking her.
“In order to build the vast structures that become a tiered city, as in Corma’s two largest metropolitan areas, you need a foundation that stretches farther down than the ancient bedrock. And the width of the underground foundation must equal the height of the central part of the structure.”