by Blaze Ward
Siren
Blaze Ward
Copyright © 2016 Blaze Ward
All rights reserved
Published by Knotted Road Press
www.KnottedRoadPress.com
Cover art:
Copyright © dicapua.eu | Shutterstock.com – A young woman silhouette in a green and violet texture with stripes, leaves, dots.
Cover and interior design copyright © 2016 Knotted Road Press
ISBN: 978-1-943663-09-5
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This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Siren
Blaze Ward
I
Date of the Republic October 4, 394 Quinta City, Quinta
The girl’s voice knocked Vo out of his reverie and brought him back to the present.
“Hey, Vo,” she called as she walked up to his table in the Student Union. “Finn tells me you used to be in the navy?”
He looked up from the woman on the screen of his portable computer and considered the girl standing across from him. The two looked nothing alike, this one a busty, beautiful brunette and the one on the screen a skinny blond that some might call homely. The only thing they had in common was height.
This one was about to plop down into one of the other chairs at his table, so her head was down. He was used to analyzing someone for risk and competence at a glance, the downside of eight years active duty as a fleet security marine. Even pretty girls in a student union hall.
What was her name? Fevre? F–something? Phoebe. That was it.
Phoebe was tall for a girl and busty in a very distracting way. He wasn’t sure she was wearing anything under that green sweater as she took off her coat and hung it from the chair across from him. The way her chest moved suggested not, but he couldn’t tell for certain and didn’t want to stare.
Vo checked the time on his personal comm as Phoebe sat, but the clock in his head was still accurate enough. He’d supposedly been reviewing his accounting homework and reading ahead, but he still had at least ten minutes before he needed to pack up and go to class.
“Still am,” he said, unable to figure out why the prettiest girl in class suddenly wanted to chat him up.
It wasn’t like he was particularly good looking. His previous bosses had frequently picked him for assignments because he was nearly two meters tall, incredibly strong, and looked like a street hoodlum. That could generally be considered an asset in his line of work.
“Are what?” she asked, perplexed as she sat down and dropped a heavy backpack of books and stuff beside her.
“I’m still on active duty,” he replied.
That didn’t help. She got an even more confused look on her face. She had really pretty green eyes.
“But you’re a student,” she said, her voice starting to edge into a whine. “You’re in my business accounting class.”
“I’m on detached duty for this semester,” he replied. “Reward from my boss, and using up all my leave, and a few other things.”
“So what ship are you on?” she inquired with a grin, leaning onto the table in a way that did distracting things under the sweater.
Vo caught his breath and brought his eyes back up to hers.
“None, right now,” he replied heavily. “The old one got decommissioned. The new one’s not done being built yet. Boss owed me a favor. Plus I’m kinda on medical rehab. It all added up to enough time to take some classes.”
“Medical rehab?”
The confusion was back.
“I got shot up pretty bad, last time out,” he said in a tone that suggested she not ask further questions. “The ship was Auberon.”
Her eyes lit up. It was a good way to distract people.
“Jessica Keller?” she probed sharply.
Vo nodded. Everyone knew RAN Auberon and her very famous Command Centurion. He could bask a little in that glory. He had actually been on Alexandria Station until about twenty minutes before the Red Admiral blew it up at Ballard four months ago.
Still, he had figured that someplace as remote as Quinta, and a college like the Quinta Colonial Institute, would have been far enough away from the main byways of the Republic. There was almost no Fleet presence here, and no Marines groundside. He could pretend to be a civilian for five months.
Or could have. He probably shouldn’t have told Finn anything, but the kid had a good heart and had been genuinely interested in the older guy in class.
Older? Gods, this girl across from me is probably younger than my youngest sister, Sonja.
“I bet you could tell me some awesome stories about her,” Phoebe said, her eyes all aglitter.
“Maybe later,” Vo shrugged. “Supposed to go get lunch with Finn after class and talk mid–terms. Then I need to write a history paper tonight.”
Vo started to gather up the things on the table. The portable computer and light–pen went into his backpack, along with an old–fashioned paper notebook barely bigger than his hand and honest–to–Creator ink pen.
“You’re leaving already?” she asked, maybe a little hurt.
Vo stood up and grabbed his jacket. Civilian attire was still alien, but Quinta had mild winters, so he didn’t need anything heavy.
“Almost time for class,” he said.
It was a good way to extract himself from a confusing situation.
Phoebe grabbed her things and stood as well.
“I’ll walk with you to class,” she announced, a queen bestowing a favor on her favorite champion.
What the hell have I done to warrant this sort of attention?
Ξ
Vo had hoped that picking a table on the restaurant’s patio would dissuade Phoebe from staying long at lunch. It hadn’t worked, but at least she had stayed bundled up in her heavy jacket and he wasn’t being distracted by her chest.
As much.
Less than Finn, anyway.
They had the space mostly to themselves, another twenty minutes or so before the serious lunch rush came. Vo had ended up facing the empty chair, with Finn on his right and Phoebe on his left.
Hot chocolate and coffee had always mixed well as a cheap way to get warm calories in the field. Today felt close enough to a planetary drop to qualify. Maybe worse. Planetary assaults didn’t normally leave him so nervous.
Pretty women did that to him.
The woman, no, let’s face it, girl, was honestly batting her eyes at him. All he could think of was fleet groupie, but even that was a stretch. She wasn’t some poor farm girl on a dead–end planet looking for any way out.
He had known a few of those along the way.
Vo knew that her mother was the mayor of her home town, and her father was a business exec of some sort, but that was about as much as he had been able to pick up. This girl probably had the whole planet to pick from, and potentially the whole Republic if she really wanted.
She didn’t need him to escape. And this planet was good enough for his needs.
Quinta Colonial Institute wasn’t the top college on the planet, but it was in the top five for business schools. And it accepted transfer credits from the RAN, the Republic of Aquitaine Navy. One semester ground–side and he would have a Class I degree.
Then he could be an officer. And then she might no
tice him. Or rather, she might smile at him with warmth instead of just noticing him and going on with her day.
“What about you, Vo?” Finn asked.
Vo went blank. He had been lost in the recesses of his head, thinking about pretty girls back home who were way out of his league, kinda like the one beside him.
“Huh?” he replied intelligently.
“What are you going to do after you graduate, man?” Finn asked with an exasperated sigh.
Vo hadn’t made many friends here. He was only going to be local for the one semester, and then off–planet again. Hadn’t seemed worth the effort.
“Back to Fleet,” he replied. “Hopefully become an officer. Retire in another twenty or twenty–five years and go into business.”
“Do you know what ship you’ll be on?” Phoebe asked sweetly. She leaned forward again and did something with crossed arms that made her chest stand out. Her eyes got a bright green glitter as well.
How did pretty girls do that? Very distracting. Dangerously so. Why me?
Vo took a sip of hot liquid to stop the first words from coming out his mouth. Auberon’s Dragoon, Navin the Black, had pounded that lesson into his head.
Never say the first words.
“Supposedly, they’ll be commissioning a new Auberon for Keller,” he said. “Don’t know, this far from Ladeux.”
“So you’re not here for long?” she asked wistfully.
Wistfully? What the hell?
“No, ma’am,” Vo replied, dropping back into a lifetime of training. “Here to do a job and then on to the next. What about you?”
He watched her lean back and get a far–away look in her eyes. She suddenly looked much younger. Almost fragile.
“Two options,” she said quietly. “Stay here and be the biggest fish in a small pond. Or try my luck in the big, bad galaxy.”
Vo could agree with that. Of course, his primary options at her age most likely had him dead or in prison by now. But these two bright, innocent, middle–class kids didn’t need to know what growing up in the slums of Anameleck Prime was like. A neighborhood like Z'Shani was way more dangerous than they could imagine, much less survive for long.
“Finn?” Vo asked, steering the conversation back to his only real friend on the planet.
“Business, man,” he said with a smile that lit up his face. Finn had a golden–brown tinge to his skin and black hair that he had explained as Thai. Whatever that meant. Apparently, it was a Homeworld thing.
Vo was a mutt, he didn’t come from a culture, so much as a place. And not a particularly nice place.
“I’m the first kid in my family to go to college,” Finn continued, animation growing in his whole body. “Gonna get a job with a desk instead of a shovel for a few years, then go into business for myself.”
Vo started to say something else, but Finn suddenly looked at his comm.
“Crap, I gotta go,” he said, hastily pulling a few bills from a pocket and handing them to Vo. “Supposed to work extra hours this afternoon. See you Wednesday?”
“Will do,” Vo replied to Finn’s back.
And suddenly, he was alone with the girl. At least as alone as you could be in a restaurant with only a handful of other early birds for lunch and a waitress running around. Close enough.
He kind of stared at her for a second. Saying something like So now what? was too much like an open invitation.
Dangerously thin ice.
He would be here on this planet for another two months, and then gone forever. And this certainly wasn’t the girl whose picture was on his personal computer screen.
He decided to retreat.
Vo pulled out his wallet and added a couple more bills on top of Finn’s pile, watching Phoebe like a rabbit suddenly spotting a hawk overhead.
Quickly, he slid his chair back and stood up, grabbing his bag and his jacket.
“I need to write a history paper this afternoon,” he announced carefully, preemptively, defensively.
Phoebe moved faster than he could escape.
She rose as well. He could just sit all day and watch her move. She had studied ballet or something from a young age. She had that same smooth physicality as Navin the Black, without being an ogre marine commander.
Command Centurion Keller, back on Auberon, moved in a whole different manner, but she was a master of Valse d’Glaive, the waltz of swords, and it showed. Night and day.
Before he could take a step, Phoebe laid a hand on his forearm. Nothing more than that, but nothing less than that, either.
“I’ve always wanted to learn archery, Vo,” she said, out of the blue. “Could you teach me?”
She withdrew her hand, but the feeling lingered on his skin, even through the jacket.
“Archery?” Vo countered, utterly confused. “How did you know…?”
“Finn told me,” she replied quickly. “He was bragging you up the other day and mentioned it.”
“Oh,” Vo said, thinking furiously. “I wouldn’t even know where to find gear around here.”
“Leave that to me,” she said with sudden warmth. “This weekend?”
“Sure,” Vo nodded, a little lost, but closer to safe ground. He hoped.
She relaxed from tension that hadn’t been evident until it was gone.
“Thank you, Vo,” she smiled, pulling her own money out and adding it to the pile. “See you Wednesday?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And then she was gone. At least her coat was short enough that he could enjoy her bottom as she walked away. It was a nice bottom.
Still, what the hell was it about him that excited a woman like that?
Ξ
Vo looked at the time. Several hours gone. Late enough to consider bed. The paper was almost done, but for the conclusions and cleanup. And it wasn’t due until the end of the semester, another seven weeks or so. On that distant weekend, he would be packing to return to his real life, while everyone else was in a panicked mode trying to write something halfway passable.
He had switched to decaf tea when he started working on the paper. He looked up now at his tiny apartment, two blocks from campus, and marveled. Students would probably bitch at being asked to live, to survive, in just thirty square meters. On the ship, he would have shared it with three other Yeomen. Or five First–Rate Spacers.
Perceptions.
Something kept niggling at the back of his mind.
Archery.
He had never mentioned archery to Finn.
After Ballard, he was supposed to take six months off from all physical training while all his muscles healed. No Kendo, no archery, no close combat training. Nothing beyond merely practicing his forms every day to maintain flexibility and muscle memory.
Hell, he wasn’t even supposed to engage in sex until the doctors cleared him. Let all the core muscles recover, without strain, or he’d be risking a medical discharge in another three to five years.
The shot from the saboteur on Alexandria Station had drilled him dead center, right in his trauma plate.
Idiot. That was why Marines wore the damned things.
It had shattered, like it was supposed to, absorbing fire that would have splattered him otherwise. But in doing do, all the muscles in his stomach and chest had sustained major damage.
Vo had too much to do to start over without a full pension and a lot of lead time planned in. It was how he worked.
So he was pretty sure he hadn’t mentioned archery to Finn. Or Phoebe. Or anyone else on this planet. How had she known about it?
II
Date of the Republic October 9, 394 Quinta City, Quinta
Vo had seriously considered showing up on the medical report this morning. Calling in sick. Whatever civilians called it. Had wrestled with his conscience with it since he woke up.
Still, he had promised Phoebe he’d do this. Kinda. Agreed with her on Monday. And Wednesday. And Friday. Friday, she’d made it a point to sit next to him at the lecture, putting Finn on h
er other side.
So here he was. He hadn’t even known about the Quinta Athletic Club, or whatever it was, until she gave him directions and made sure he knew he was on the guest list.
Guest List.
It was an imposing door. The kind that screamed Money to a kid from the slums. Rich folk. Not Fifty Families rich, but the local aristocracy on this planet.
At least his civilian clothes looked reasonable. It felt like the kind of place where he should take his hat off to enter, had he been wearing one. Instead, he had gray dungarees, a royal blue undershirt, and a green Henley shirt. The only thing Fleet about him was his boots, comfy and waterproof.
Inside, he found a lobby done in marble tile and old, stained wood. More money.
A very young girl, maybe sixteen, sat behind a counter and smiled politely up at him.
“May I help you, sir?” she asked.
“Vo Arlo,” he replied, fighting not to snap to attention. “I’m on the guest list?”
She looked down for a moment, smiled up at him, and lifted a receiver.
“Miss Akkersdijk,” she said into it. “Your guest is here. Yes. Thank you.”
She put the comm down and smiled.
“She’ll be right up.”
“Thank you.”
Vo moved to one side and asked himself again what he was doing in a place like this. Maybe he needed to be more of a coward, occasionally.
Phoebe emerged from an inner door, almost hidden behind a pillar across the way, before he could think of anything more intelligent. She was in tight slacks and the kind of sleeveless blouse competition shooters frequently wore, all in a soft brown the color of winter trees, with a long–sleeved green shirt underneath. Her luxurious brown hair was pulled back into a complicated braid thingee that looked like it probably required a team of professionals to accomplish.
“Vo,” she smiled as she approached. She was tall for a girl. He was still a head and a half taller. She settled for wrapping her arms around his chest and pressing her breasts flat against his stomach in a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
He half–hugged her back, trying not to be overwhelmed by her scent. It was pine and flowers and spring and lovely.