Salvage Mind (Salvage Race Book 1)

by Jones, David Alan

  Fang, ensconced in the chair directly across the aisle from Symeon, considered him for a long moment, his dark eyes inscrutable. He shooed the soldier pressing the gun to Symeon’s head back with a flick of his wrist. “You feel I tricked you.”

  Symeon met the man’s gaze. “Haven’t you? What do you want with Kavya?”

  Leverage.

  “I want her to become the voice of our movement—something of a big dream, I suppose, but I think it’s possible.”

  “To what end?” Symeon found himself morbidly interested by Fang’s answer.

  “Her father is, or soon shall be, emperor. What better spokesperson for the Luxing cause? Her station as a duchy princess made her attractive to us before, but now she has become indispensable.”

  Symeon rested his head back against the seat, his eyebrows drooping as realization dawned inside his skull. “You orchestrated this entire thing. Kavya’s discovery of the coup, her moves to stop it. You played her.”

  “We fed her the truth so far as we’ve pieced it together. She did the rest. The Shorvex did usurp Phoenix from our ancestors and they did turn us into slaves.”

  “But you didn’t want Kavya to stop Alexei’s coup,” Symeon said, his mind reeling. “You wanted her to attend it.”

  “That was a delicate balancing act. I needed her to believe she had likely thwarted her father’s plans by releasing Pyotr’s negotiations with the Bith. And yet, I also needed her to doubt—to worry Alexei might still go through with it even with his ships supposedly turned over to the commonwealth fleet—the very ships we saw attacking the fleet moments ago.”

  “I don’t understand why. What was the point of making her doubt? You wanted the coup, and you obviously got it.”

  “But I also wanted Kavya. Convincing the emperor to allow heirs into the divor wasn’t easy, but nothing several months of planning and seeding suggestions to him couldn’t fix. With that done, I had only to incite the princess’ concerns over her father to guarantee she would attend the divor.”

  Symeon felt his eyes go wide. “Because kidnapping her here would cause less alarm than snatching her from Yaya Island.”

  “Precisely. You saw how Alexei handed her over in the divor. We would never have gotten that far back on Phoenix. Every ship that lands on Yaya is scrutinized. And even if we managed to smuggle her out undetected, we’d have nowhere to hide. As things stand now, Princess Kavya is on her way to Duke Lev Gomarov’s estate in the Okrug krais where she will be safe under his family’s care until this messy business of swapping emperors is complete, all with her father’s consent.”

  “You’re a fool. This plan won’t last; eventually someone’s going to miss the princess, and they’ll come looking.” Despite his outward bravado, Symeon recognized the truth of Fang’s words. With her father preoccupied fighting a solar war and installing his own government to supersede the old, he likely wouldn’t miss Kavya for upwards of a year, maybe more. Still, he figured he should put up a brave front. “I’ll concede you’ve bought yourself some time, but do you really think Grand Duke Alexei won’t find her? Find you, eventually?”

  Fang smiled, the expression glacial, and bent forward to examine Symeon’s face minutely. “Of course he will. That’s precisely what I want, Symeon. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 20

  Although he spent the next two restless nights in a small metal room with a cot, sink, and toilet, Fang allowed Symeon back into the passenger compartment for their return to Phoenix. He sat in silence, watching the night-black sky change as the ship rumbled into the atmosphere. The stars gave way to blue sky and clouds, and the sphere that had been his home planet flattened and broadened until a long stretch of farmland and forest yawned beneath the ship.

  The trip back to Phoenix had taken two and a half days, a much quicker affair than Symeon’s first flight to Bastrayavich aboard the Emperor Nikolai . This was partially due to the fact that Fang’s ship, which had no name beyond its imperial designation number so far as Symeon knew, was simply faster, but it also rested largely on the fact that Grand Duke Alexei had arranged to arrive at the divor with little time to spare in order to keep his fleet intact until the last possible moment. From the media reports coming out of the capital, the ploy had worked. The beginning of the coup, which Symeon had witnessed firsthand, had coincided precisely with the moment when Grand Duke Alexei’s forces were to hand over their crews and ships. His people had instead executed the commanders sent to assume control, and launched an unprecedented assault on the imperials.

  As more and more news rooms across Bastrayavich acquiesced to the reality of Alexei’s eventual victory, those reports transformed from naming him a usurper and despot to extolling his willingness to step forward for the good of the empire. It was enough to make Symeon sick, but Fang only smiled at the reports which he kept on a continuous cycle in the passenger cabin.

  “Is the princess well?” Symeon asked as the ship rumbled through the atmosphere.

  “Yes,” Fang said. “Angry, but well.”

  “Did you force her to sleep in the same sort of cell you gave me?”

  “They are the only two cells in this ship’s brig.”

  “She is a princess, Fang. She deserves—”

  “She deserves nothing, Symeon.” Fang, who hadn’t bothered to turn from his newscast before, twisted around in his seat to spear Symeon with his gaze. “Let us get this one thing clear now. No one deserves anything by virtue of birth. Not you. Not Kavya. Not even her vaunted father. We have a hard rule in the Wuxia, one you’d do well to learn early and well: you earn what you deserve in our ranks; nothing is given without your working for it.”

  Symeon did his best to mimic Fang’s stern expression. “The princess isn’t Wuxia.”

  “All the worse for her.” Fang sliced a hand through the holo image before him and it switched to a view of the ground.

  A wide green space several kilometers on a side sprawled below them. Symeon initially mistook it for natural forest, but upon closer inspection he noticed its manicured lawns and parks surrounded by interlocking stone walls. In the distance, growing larger by the second, stood a modest mansion three stories high, its outer facade made from the same rock as those in its gardens.

  Curious, Symeon called up the holo-vid affixed to his seat, which named the mansion Gomarov Castle, House Gomarov. True to his word, Fang had brought them to the Saratov Duchy. Until now, Symeon had worried the Wuxia leader might take them elsewhere. Who knew what strongholds the rebel Luxing had constructed for themselves in the last five hundred years of their existence?

  Not too many, I would think. Otherwise, they would have been found out by now.

  True, but they possessed far more might than Symeon would have guessed when he first met Fang. And that power extended into at least one royal family. Symeon’s mind flashed back to the moment Captain Guyford, who was no captain at all, had shown allegiance to Fang before even acknowledging a duke in his presence. That meant Duke Lev Gomarov was not only complicit in Fang’s machinations, he likewise owed some type of fealty to the Wuxia leader. What power did a Luxing have over a peer of the empire? A troubling question that.

  They landed on a pad adjacent to the ancient palace, which had been constructed more than eight hundred years before. Two dozen Luxing dressed in purple and gold livery poured out of the eastern entrance to form a welcoming party long before the ship’s boarding ramp lowered. Symeon marveled at the sight on his monitor, but reared back in surprise when he noticed several Shorvex amongst the crowd, their fair skin shining in the afternoon sun. The Luxing in their midst showed them no more deference than any other persons. In fact, in several instances, it appeared the Shorvex moved aside for some of the older Luxing in the crowd.

  “I’ve had enough of this shit, Czarina. Fine, hit me again, I don’t care. You’re going to tell me what’s happening here or suffer my questions for the rest of your natural life!”

 
; “You’ll have your answers soon enough, Princess.” Fang, who had unstrapped himself from his seat, met Czarina, Kavya, and three armed escorts at the entrance to the ship’s storage bay. “Come, Symeon. It’s time you meet my family.”

  Kavya, who looked in no way satisfied with Fang’s assurances, turned a hard gaze on Symeon. She still wore the same gown from the divor and her light hair stood up in unruly patches about her head. “Did you sell me to these monsters? You and Czarina?”

  Symeon started to answer, his heart in his throat, but Fang spoke first.

  “You jump to conclusions, Kavya. Symeon was as much our dupe as you, and he’s been sleeping in a cell just like yours these past two days.”

  “I don’t believe you.” She folded her arms, her lips parted to show her teeth. “You’re all liars.”

  As a means of wooing the princess over to his side, Symeon thought Fang had a thing or two to learn about prisoner treatment. Why lock her in cell and refuse her a change of clothes or a comb? That seemed like the perfect way to alienate the very woman Fang wished to make his mouthpiece to the empire.

  It’s an old technique—break your recruit down before building them back up. It may seem illogical, but it tends to engender loyalty. Humans are strange that way sometimes.

  That sort of idea might work on the gullible or mentally weak, but Symeon couldn’t imagine it turning a willful, powerful woman like Kavya into a cat’s paw.

  You might be surprised.

  They exited the ship to raucous cheers from the now dozens of people gathered to greet them. Several Luxing women, some carrying babes in arms, hurried forward to ply Fang with hugs and kisses. Scads of small children did likewise, calling, “Daddy, daddy!” or else, “Grandfather!”

  Symeon looked askance at Kavya, but the princess resolutely averted her gaze from him.

  “These are my wives,” Fang said, gesturing to include no fewer than six women, most of them far younger than he.

  Symeon stared, dumbfounded, when he realized two of the women were Shorvex. Like his Luxing wives, they too kissed Fang. One of them held an infant girl wearing a frilly green dress, a child possessed of a Luxing’s epicanthic eye folds and a Shorvex’s light blue coloring. The sight made Symeon stutter to a halt. Though he had come to accept the fact that the Shorvex and the Luxing shared the same blood—were in fact the same species—seeing children of their mixed heritage left him breathless. Such a union went beyond the bounds of a small word like taboo or forbidden. Abomination might better describe the wholesale destruction of every societal norm he had ever learned.

  Yet, could he deny the utter beauty he saw in the child? From her lustrous golden hair to the rounded button nose Symeon would have recognized in his own mother’s face, she exuded all that was good and beautiful amongst her two bloodlines. He thought he had never seen anything so exquisite.

  Kavya, having turned her face to avoid Symeon, noticed the child after him. Her silver-blue eyes widened, and her jaw dropped as did her folded arms. She stood that way for a long moment, unmoving, appearing not to breathe, until several of those gathered around her, including Fang, began to laugh.

  “You’ve done it now, Fang!” said a Luxing man near the front of the crowd. “You’ve given the soon to be imperial princess an aneurysm!”

  “My daughter’s too beautiful,” Fang shot back. “She can’t look away.” He held out his arms and took the baby, who cooed at her father, showing her gums as she smiled.

  Without a moment’s hesitation or fear, Fang placed one of Kavya’s hands on his infant daughter’s chest. The babe gripped Kavya’s splayed fingers, immediately pulled one knuckle into her mouth, and began to suck greedily.

  “Princess Kavya, this is Jing Fei. What do you think of her?”

  The courtyard fell silent. Even the children quieted, sensing the weight of the moment. Kavya stared at the baby suckling her fingers for a long moment before lifting glistening eyes to Fang.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  * * *

  Though modest in comparison to the sorts of palaces owned by a grand duke, Gomarov Castle boasted a large number of rooms, various facilities like holo tanks and saunas, and an immense outdoor balcony patio where Fang hosted that evening’s dinner. Symeon sat next to Princess Kavya near the head of the iron table where Fang presided like a king.

  No servants delivered their meal. Instead, children and adolescents carried steaming pots of vegetables, stewed meats, and soups to and from the balcony while Fang and his six wives ate. Though still bewildered, Symeon found himself enjoying the meal and, too his utter surprise, the company. He had expected more foul treatment, not a five course meal and a convivial family chat.

  Kavya likewise warmed to the situation as the conversation unfolded. Though at first reluctant, Jing Fei’s mother, Anushka , had convinced Kavya to hold the child. She cradled the sleeping infant in one arm while eating, often glancing down as if reassuring herself the baby was still there.

  “Of course, not everyone in the Wuxia knows about us.” Fang, sitting at the head of the table, circled his wine glass to take in his wives and seven oldest children seated before him. Czarina sat with them on Fang’s right. “This family is five hundred years in the making—our roots are strong—but we don’t fool ourselves, we know few enough of the rank and file pure Shorvex would accept our ways as of yet.”

  “You’ve been—” Symeon searched for the right word. “—intermarrying since the beginning of the Wuxia?”

  Fang nodded. “It was one of my ancestors who first fell in love with a Luxing slave—a cook in his house.”

  Kavya, careful not to disturb the babe in her arms, bent forward. “You have Shorvexan ancestors?”

  “Indeed I do. That is one of the quirks of genes. I look like this, and my half-brother, Duke Lev, could be your brother, Princess.”

  “Lev?” Symeon couldn’t hide his astonishment, his spoon, filled with steaming lentil soup, poised halfway to his lips.

  “Haven’t you ever noticed how different litters of puppies sometimes turn out?” Czarina asked. “I thought you grew up on a farm.”

  Several of the women tittered. One among them, who appeared Shorvexan though Symeon was beginning to doubt his eyes, put down her wine glass, her blue cheeks split into a wide smile. “My father is as Luxing as they come: black hair, brown eyes, skin dark as caramel, but you’d never know it to look at me.”

  “Are you all cousins?” Kavya asked, causing Symeon to nearly choke on his next sip of wine. He hadn’t considered that possibility, but given their small population, it made sense.

  Who else could these people marry? It’s not as though they’re going to find allied Shorvexan families anywhere in the system. Most would have them executed.

  For a moment, Symeon worried Kavya had offended their hosts. Everyone grew quiet. But Fang, tilting his head side to side like a Luxing factor negotiating a good deal for his master’s wares, diffused the situation with a smile.

  “Some closer than others, but we’re careful about that sort of thing. We have matchmakers.”

  “Fang and I are third cousins,” volunteered one of his Luxing wives holding her own sleeping infant. “That’s as close as the family allows.”

  “But there isn’t just one family, is there?” Kavya asked. “There can’t be.”

  “There are three major lines of Shorxing.”

  “Shorxing.” Symeon tasted the word the way he might a new fruit.

  “Just so,” Fang said. “We have cultivated our genes over the generations, matching our progeny for the best results.”

  Kavya furrowed her brow. “Your entire family is a breeding project?”

  Everyone laughed, even Czarina, who speared a morsel of roast beef with a sharpened tong and popped it into her mouth. “More than our family alone.”

  Judging by the expression that crossed Kavya’s face, she hadn’t begun to forgive her former handmaid for her treachery, but the princess’ curiosity got the better o
f her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Fang shook his head at Czarina. “I hadn’t planned to broach that subject this soon, girl. They aren’t ready.”

  “What’s ready, father? When is anyone prepared to learn their entire worldview is an orchestrated lie built on a gerrymandered crime?”

  Kavya turned a shocked gaze on Symeon and mouthed, “Father?”

  He shrugged and shook his head.

  I suppose it makes sense she’s his daughter. This is a family dinner after all.

  Fang pursed his lips in consternation, but nodded as if acquiescing to a sound argument despite his personal reservations. He turned to regard Symeon and Kavya. “The Wuxia decided long ago that our chances of winning our freedom through battle, either in the courts or by making war, stood close to zero. Previous rebellions, those not of our making, met with horrific outcomes. In every case, the Shorvex sought to break the rebels by any means—usually through torture and death, but not in every case. Five centuries ago, a clandestine group of scientists initiated a breeding program meant to pair docile slaves for mating. It ran for more than twenty years, and likely would have yielded measurable results had a new emperor not taken the throne and disbanded the program out of hand.”

  “The Wuxia somehow continued it?” Symeon asked, his half-full plate forgotten before him.

  “After a fashion, yes.” Fang’s dark eyes took on a wistful cast as if he could somehow gaze backward in time. “My ancestors had already begun to intermarry. Those of us who looked Shorvex were able to learn of the experiment, and its preliminary results. Intrigued by what they saw, they decided to continue the work not just with our bloodline, but those of the great Houses as well.”

  “No,” Symeon shook his head. He glanced at Kavya who looked as incredulous as he felt. “You’ve gone a meter too far for me to believe that. What influence could your ancestors have had on the Rurikids, the Kamenevs, the Mastronovs?”