Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  They broke atmosphere quickly, the shuttle much more powerful than the decrepit mining ship. Soon, the winged form of the Marathon came into view, armament on display from all angles on the ship’s sleek hull. Makkon should have found the idea of all those weapons poised over his moon alarming, but most of his thoughts were about Tamryn and whether he would have an opportunity to see her. He fully admitted what he had only suspected earlier in the week, that he was in love. The last couple of days without her had been empty and forlorn.

  “Keep your mind on the mission,” the president said after the shuttle landed in a docking bay and they were walking out.

  “I intend to, ma’am.” He had no idea how much she had guessed about his prisoner, but he chose not to argue since doing so would only reveal more.

  A couple of soldiers who had apparently been assigned to be their escorts stepped forward.

  “You can leave your furs and your weapons here.” One pointed to a desk just outside the shuttle bay airlock.

  Makkon hesitated. The furs he would have no trouble leaving behind, as the temperature in the ship felt stiflingly hot after the moon, but his weapons? He would have a much harder time protecting the president if he was unarmed.

  She removed her gear without comment, including a pistol she’d had tucked into her waistband behind her back. She nodded at Makkon. He supposed she was right, that there was little point in objecting. On the military ship, surrounded by hundreds of soldiers, they were practically powerless, whether they were armed or not.

  After Makkon undressed down to his shirt and trousers, sans weapons, the soldiers escorted them into the corridors of the Marathon. They passed uniformed men and women who regarded their tattooed guests curiously, though none of them stopped to speak. The soldiers led Makkon and the president up two separate lifts, then onto a level that had to be near the top of the ship. If they weren’t going to the bridge itself, then perhaps they would be delivered to a nearby briefing room.

  When they reached a doorway, the soldiers stopped and gestured for them to go in, not offering to accompany them. Makkon reminded himself that this was most likely a meeting place, not an execution chamber. Still, he made sure to enter first, ahead of the president.

  Six well-armed soldiers waited inside, standing against walls that surrounded a large, oval table capable of seating fifteen or twenty people. Four gray-haired men and women in black Fleet uniforms sat at the chairs, while a fifth officer stood near the door. Makkon recognized his keen gray-green eyes. Admiral Pavlenko. Makkon had no idea what ranks the pins and medals the rest of the people wore meant, but from their age and the sheer amount of silver and gold on the uniforms, he assumed they were the highest-ranking officers on the ship, if not in the entire fleet that had entered Glacian space.

  Makkon should have taken a moment to study the staff more closely, but Tamryn was in the room, too, and his gaze locked on to her. Oddly, she wasn’t wearing her Fleet uniform or anything that spoke of her rank. Instead, she wore slacks and a flowing wrap blouse with a loose neckline that showed an appealing amount of skin, though not too much to be considered inappropriate for mixed company. She also wore a couple of modest pieces of jewelry, a thin gold bracelet and a pendant that dangled from her neck, the weighted bauble on the end pressing against the fabric between her breasts enough to enhance their curves. It was by far the most feminine attire Makkon had seen her in, and even though he adored Tamryn, the determined markswoman and soldier, this display of womanhood sent a flush of heat through his body and caused his groin to tighten. He forced himself to look at her face, rather than the alabaster skin of her throat and chest.

  Tamryn returned his gaze with a grave nod, her face calm and composed. He wished it would have lit up at his entrance, and that she had raced across the room to fling her arms around him, but everything about this meeting suggested professionalism would be expected from all parties.

  “Madam President,” Admiral Pavlenko said, extending a hand toward a chair. “Please have a seat.”

  As she did so, sitting down at the opposite end of the table from Tamryn, Admiral Pavlenko turned his gaze on Makkon. It hardened, and there was a challenge there, a hint of dislike. No, the man had no reason to like Makkon. Pavlenko probably was not the one who had invited him to attend this meeting.

  “I’m Admiral Pavlenko,” he said, turning his back to Makkon and speaking to the president. He did not invite Makkon to sit. That was fine. Makkon took up a position beside the door and behind the president’s chair, much like one of the guards in the room. He might not be armed, but he knew he still appeared formidable, as attested to by the wary looks the soldiers manning the walls gave him.

  “That’s Admiral Liao, Captain Hatchet, and Captain Duffy,” the admiral went on. “You’ve met Tamryn Pavlenko, I presume.” He gestured to Tamryn.

  “Briefly,” the president said.

  Makkon worried about the significance of Tamryn being introduced by first and last name rather than by her rank. A chill went through him, washing away his earlier warmth. What if it meant that she had been discharged from the service? Because of her relationship with him? On the station, he hadn’t been worried that much about how his interest in her, and her interest in him, would appear to her fellow soldiers. Indeed, he had even wanted to intentionally subvert her in the beginning, to turn her into a sympathizer for his cause. But now, dread filled him at the thought that he might have cost her her career.

  “She’s here representing finance lord Pyotr Pavlenko,” the admiral explained, “as well as the interests of SysTek Incorporated.”

  Makkon wasn’t sure if President Shenta would have any more an idea what a finance lord was than he’d had before looking it up on the net, but she nodded, no hint of uncertainty on her face.

  “Shenta,” she said, touching her chest, “and Hunt Leader Makkon.” She pointed back at him.

  Hearing his title made Makkon feel bleak, since there was nothing left to hunt anymore, nobody left to lead. She might as well have introduced him as her bodyguard. Most of the officers around the table ignored him, perhaps equating a hunt leader to a guard, anyway, but Tamryn’s father gave him another hard stare.

  “Madam President,” Tamryn said, her hands folded on the table in front of her. “I’ve been given permission to negotiate on behalf of my grandfather and his company, SysTek Incorporated, to possibly find a solution that would give your people what they want, keep the military from taking revenge for recent grievances, and allow the company to prosper from your existing resources, as well as any future resources that may come as a result of terraforming your moon and creating a viable civilization with a viable economy.”

  Admiral Pavlenko turned his hard stare onto Tamryn, and the other officers appeared none-too-happy at her opening statement, either. They didn’t seem surprised... just displeased. It occurred to Makkon that she must have gone outside of her military chain-of-command, straight to her grandfather, who must have had the necessary power and influence to override what Fleet had intended to do out here. For the first time, he allowed himself to feel hopeful.

  “Our existing resources?” the president asked. “Those are few enough, but tell me what you mean about future resources? Are you suggesting some kind of corporate serfdom?” Her gray eyebrows pinched together.

  “Not serfdom—we don’t require ownership of the moon or the land, but we are willing to make your current problems go away and finance the terraforming of your moon in exchange for fifty percent of your export profits for the next two hundred years.”

  “Two hundred years?” the president’s mouth dropped open.

  The terms surprised Makkon too. Why would someone as old as Tamryn’s grandfather care about such a long-term deal, when he wouldn’t be alive to see most of those profits? Unless there were some life-extending technologies out there that Makkon wasn’t aware of. Or maybe the man was trying to build an empire that would ensure his descendants had wealth and power for centuries to come.
Given what Makkon had read about finance lords, that did seem a possibility, a goal one of them might have.

  “Terraforming equipment is extremely expensive,” Tamryn said, “and it’s a long-term process. Installing solar enhancers will help warm the surface of the moon in the near term, but it will take generations before the land has been suitably transformed from its current glacial frigidness to something capable of sustaining life. We fully expect to see little to no profits for the first fifty to one hundred years. However, our investment will be somewhat offset by creating a deal with you to gain exclusive access to the tunnels in which you now live, as well as any other ancient alien ruin sites on the moon.”

  “Exclusive?” the man who had been introduced as Admiral Liao asked, stirring in his chair and scowling at Tamryn. “Fleet has been funding the research of those ruins, of the language and all that might be learned from it. Frost Station Alpha—”

  “Will shortly no longer be a military facility,” Tamryn said. “SysTek is in negotiations to purchase it, so that we may bring in our own archaeologists to continue the studies and also so that we have a short-term base from which to oversee the terraforming and excavations until a suitable habitat can be established on the moon.”

  Liao turned his scowl on Admiral Pavlenko. “Did you know about this, Tomas? You were brought out here to retrieve your daughter, not sell out Fleet to some family business.”

  “None of this was ever my intention. I assure you.” Admiral Pavlenko’s expression had turned wry, but when he regarded his daughter, it wasn’t with quite as much frostiness as before. Maybe he even seemed a little proud.

  Makkon felt a similar emotion, along with other ones he couldn’t quite pin down. He felt out of his element here, and wasn’t certain he fully grasped all of the implications of Tamryn’s words, but he was impressed at the ease and confidence with which she carried herself. She might have chosen to become a communications officer in the Fleet, but growing up around entrepreneurs must have taught her the business world well. It amused him that this young woman had apparently found a way to outmaneuver the military. Given the communications delay, and the fact that she couldn’t have spoken to her grandfather in real time, he assumed that she had come up with most, if not all of this herself, somehow selling him on the prospect of fixing up a barren world that nobody else had ever considered worth the effort.

  As Tamryn continued, outlining the company’s plan—and what they could offer the Glacians in return—Makkon found himself wondering if they could have some future together at the end of all this. Was that something she had in mind? Or was he even a part of her plans? Even though he had looked up her family some time ago, he hadn’t quite realized just how much power they had if they could truly bump up against the military might of the government and walk away unscathed. Of course, wasn’t a finance lord a part of the government? Perhaps the grandfather had only had to pull a few strings to make this happen.

  Would someone with those kinds of connections, who had grown up wanting for nothing and would never want for anything as long as she lived, have any interest in a future with him? He hadn’t realized it before, but she could truly have her pick of men. Even putting aside her own appealing attributes, how many men out there would jump through hoops for her for a chance to marry into that family?

  “What if we say no to all of this and choose to deal with the military?” President Shenta asked.

  “I wouldn’t,” Admiral Pavlenko said with a sigh. “We don’t deal with terrorists, and that is what your men on the station have proven themselves to be.” He frowned at Makkon. “Our original orders were to come out here, retrieve our people, and make sure no Glacian survived to try something like this again. If your people hadn’t retaken the station and weren’t holding our scientists hostage, we would have already carried out those orders.”

  The president must have expected as much, but her face grew pale at this bluntness.

  “Now...” Admiral Pavlenko smirked at his daughter. “Recovering the station will be SysTek’s problem.”

  “I trust that once a deal is struck,” Tamryn said, “the president will see the wisdom in recalling her people. As a gesture of goodwill, we are prepared to release the animals in the labs down into the tunnels, where they can breed in their natural habitat and repopulate their species.”

  Perhaps it was silly, but of all that had been spoken of and promised, that heartened Makkon the most. He wasn’t certain about the idea of signing away his world’s future to some corporation, whether Tamryn was involved with it or not, but the hunter in him delighted in the idea of being able to return to the tunnels to seek prey once again.

  He caught Tamryn smiling slightly in his direction, and he almost laughed. Funny how well she knew him already. Perhaps someday, they would get that chance to hunt together, after all.

  “Gestures of goodwill are fine,” the president said, “but what guarantee do we have that this SysTek won’t attempt to set itself up as our corporate overlords? Will we be required to become GalCon citizens? Is that even being offered?”

  One of the captains curled a lip. Not pleased at the idea of having Glacians as citizens? Makkon doubted any of his people would care much for it, either.

  “I’m not in a position to offer citizenship,” Tamryn said. “As for guarantees, my grandfather’s lawyers are in the process of creating a contract. You will, of course, have the right to peruse it, and we can negotiate over terms.”

  The president’s mouth had turned downward at the mention of lawyers. If anything, she looked even less sold on the idea than she had before. Makkon could understand her not wanting to sign away their people’s future, but they had so little to bargain with that he didn’t know how much they dared push. As much as he hated to admit it, Brax’s retaking of the station was the only thing that gave them any negotiating power.

  “In addition,” Tamryn said, perhaps noticing the president’s reticence, “I, Pyotr Pavlenko’s granddaughter, agree to live on the station or the moon.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, giving a glimpse of how difficult that was for her to promise. “This will ensure that our company’s interests are kept in mind as Glaciem goes forward and also that your people have a liaison they can directly interact with when it comes to concerns.”

  Makkon stared at her, hardly able to believe what she was promising—what she was offering to give up. Not just her career in the military, but the opportunity to live anywhere in the system, as well. And all for what? His people? Dare he hope... for him?

  Tamryn met his eyes across the table. As if she knew what he was wondering, she smiled. A charge of energy went through him. Could she truly mean to stay? To stay with him?

  The president must have caught the look, for she glanced back at him, then looked to Tamryn. “You asked that Makkon come to this meeting. What role does he play in this?”

  “I would not presume to assign him a role,” Tamryn said, “but since we have worked well together in the past...”

  He was sure she didn’t mean it to, but the words made steamy memories leap to the forefront of Makkon’s mind, of taking her in the tub and then several more times in his bed. Of being aroused as he stalked her through the tunnels of the station. Of tasting her and relishing the way she quivered and groaned beneath his touch in that refrigerator.

  Such thoughts were completely inappropriate for the setting here, yet his groin swelled, and he couldn’t keep from imagining himself leaping across the table, lifting her from her seat, pushing her up against the wall, and taking her there, the onlookers be damned.

  Fortunately, he did not act on all of his foolish notions. He remained standing against the wall, the consummate bodyguard. Though one part of his body did want to betray his professionalism, and he wished he hadn’t taken off so many of his furs, especially the thigh-length jacket that would have covered his groin. The last thing he needed was for Tamryn’s father to notice him pitching a tent for his daughter.

&nb
sp; “I thought Makkon might be an ideal liaison between your people and me and mine,” Tamryn finished.

  Yes, they could be liaisons that shared a bed, went on hunts together, and rutted with abandon anywhere they pleased.

  “Liaison?” the president asked, looking back and forth between them again.

  All of the officers were doing that too. Makkon tried to appear the fierce, deadly, and professional hunt leader, not someone fantasizing about tearing the clothes off the beautiful woman on the other side of the room.

  “Will there be babies?” the president asked, startling everyone into gaping at her.

  Even Tamryn, who had appeared confident and unflappable since the meeting started, seemed startled.

  “Forgive my presumption,” the president said, though she did not appear contrite, “but a marriage between someone in this corporation and a trusted and high-ranking Glacian citizen, a marriage that kept both of them on our world or at least within our orbit, would mean more than a contract written up by lawyers.”

  Admiral Pavlenko recovered before anyone else, his surprise turning into fury that reddened his face with impressive speed. “My daughter will not be forced to marry some, some... tattooed monster who murdered all of the soldiers on that station.”

  Not... all of them, Makkon thought, staring at Tamryn. Did he dare hope that the president’s proposal wouldn’t be horrifying to her? That committing to him and his world didn’t sound like a prison sentence to her? That she’d had a permanent relationship in mind all along?

  “You would force our people,” the president said, “maneuvering us into being beholden to some corporation for centuries. This is the kind of gesture of goodwill that I would require to consider removing my people from the station.”

  “We could make her order them to stand down,” one of the captains said, glaring darkly about the room.

  Tamryn lifted her hands. “Please, sirs—gentlemen. Nobody should need to make anyone do anything. That is why we are negotiating. So we can find an arrangement that is acceptable to both parties and won’t breed resentment that could turn into something unpleasant in the future.”