“Found guilty?” Josh was astounded. “You forget where you are. This isn’t Providence. You’ll get no Due-process here. This is Coredei, a pirate’s lair. Unlike the people in the Confederate territory who get no trial, we at least will hear you out.” Josh scoffed. “In the Confederacy, they needn’t even level a charge against you. To justify ending you, they merely need to suspect you. Isn’t that right, Buck? Isn’t that how your people are treated by his pals.”
O’Dare started to sweat and fidget nervously. “This is a Providence protectorate. I have rights. Adm. Hammond is . . .”
“Sorry, O’Dare,” Tyson said. “I’m afraid one consulate does not a protectorate make. Coredei is a sovereign state; my sovereign kingdom. The territory between here and Saigus is self-protected. You’re rights are what I, King Blackhart, say they are.”
“You can’t do this,” he said turning to Buck. “You’re a civilized people for god’s sake. Now order your men to let me pass.”
One of the guardsmen, a lieutenant, stepped forward and shoved O’Dare to the ground. “The captain has no jurisdiction over us. We’re not governed by rebels, spy boy. We’re Royal Marines, and I’ve heard enough to put a bullet in your head.” The officer pressed his pistol into the base of O’Dare’s scull. “Say, bye bye.”
“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Buck said. “Splatter. Give us a moment to step back, will you?”
“Oh, right.” He pressed his pistol into O’Dare’s forehead. “Clear!”
“No! Wait!” yelled O’Dare.
“Too late,” said the marine.
“No! I was looking for the others, that’s all. I was just looking for the others.”
“Others?” Buck said. “What others?”
O’Dare, with the pistol pressed hard into forehead, breathed hard. “The other ships. You know! The others like your Freefall. The Prime Minister wants them—that’s all.”
“Freefall?” Buck repeated. “You think there are other ships like Freefall? Idiot! Before we sent her into the Saigus sun, she was one of a kind. The tech to build her was beyond us—beyond anyone living. We would have reverse-engineered it if we even remotely understood Jordon’s processes, but we don’t and Jordon is dead. You can look all you want. It’ll be a damn waste of time, if you ask me.”
O’Dare panted heavily and tried to look up at Buck. “You mean you don’t know? I thought if anyone knew of the others it would be you.”
Josh stepped forward. “What others, Teddy? Talk and we’ll let you live. You have my word.”
“Ha. What good is the word of a boy?”
Buck grabbed his shirt angrily and yanked him to his feet. O’Dare’s face glisten with sweat.
“The word of Jordon Kori’s crewman is as good as gold. You think otherwise?”
“Okay, okay. There was Reliant. And there was Freefall. There has to be others. Six or seven at least—right?”
“Reliant was the prototype,” Ericca said flatly. “Freefall was the final product. There was nothing in-between, nothing. Jordon Kori left Providence to keep his tech from falling into even their hands.”
O’Dare dusted himself off, and raised his eyes to her. “And who are you?”
“I’m Ericca Archer; daughter of Reliant’s pilot and owner. After it was destroyed, I was hired by Jordon Kori as Freefall’s security chief. There were no other ships created. I would know.”
Face to face, Buck stared into O’Dare’s eyes for a long moment then shoved him angrily. “My, my. You wasted all that time looking for something that didn’t exist. You are quite the fool, aren’t you?”
O’Dare dropped his head. “Yeah, yeah. Fool, liar, spy,
“. . . whatever.”
“Well, we know you’re a liar,” Josh said. “But beyond that, what are you, really?”
O’Dare looked up at the boy. “I’m Eddie’s kid brother. And yeah. Years ago he disowned me. I’m a bounty hunter.”
Rage flared, a fist flew, and Buck suddenly found himself held back by several guards. O’Dare lay dazed on the ground with blood gushing from his lip.
“Bounty hunter,” Buck said. “Before you turned your attention toward these special—so called—ships, you hunted us, didn’t you?”
O’Dare didn’t answer.
“Didn’t you!”
“Rebels?” Ericca asked.
“Believers,” Buck answered without taking his eyes off O’Dare. “Followers of the Way. The Confederacy has a bounty on my people—on the heads of believers.”
Ericca’s eyes widened. Now things were becoming clear. Rhone wasn’t just a rebel hiding place, it was a Followers’ stronghold. Like Mara, these people believed in, and followed, Yahweh. Jordon Kori didn’t believe. That she knew. But he had said he trusted these people more than any other. He had once told her that, as far as he was concerned, Believers of The Way were harmless; a live-and-let-live people. But in that conversation Jordon had added, ‘At a moment’s notice believers will defend themselves.’ Ed Richardson was a Believer as well. Nice guy. A soldier with a tender heart. He and his men had helped her at Los Dabaron and were responsible for saving her and Riley’s lives. Now, here was Eddie’s brother; a complete opposite. Despite his subterfuge, there was now no doubt about how O’Dare learned of Freefall.
Buck glared at the downed man, and spoke Ericca’s mind. “Make a few bucks off your own brother, did you? Was turning him over to the Confederates worth it?”
O’Dare looked up and met Buck’s angry scowl with indifference. With a voice buttery smooth, he said, “Nothing personal. It was just business.”
A shot rang out. Everyone flinched and drew their weapons. Tyson and two others were fighting to hold Ericca back and rest a smoking pistol from her hands. She had yanked the gun from a nearby guard’s holster. She intended to use it on O’Dare.
Tyson tugged the gun from her hand.
Ericca and Buck exchanged a look, and with that, she pushed free of Tyson and walked away.
Tyson ran to catch up, grabbed her hand, and spun her to him. “Are you okay?” he said softly, releasing her hand.
“I need air. Would you mind walking me down to the village?”
“Need a drink?”
“I do. Take me to the tavern?”
Ty nodded, pushed his hands into his pockets, and turned to the foot trail leading down the hill.
Ericca entwined her arm in his and they took their time as they went.
“I do love you, Ericca. I suppose I always will. Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”
She sighed. “You really have no idea how much you hurt me, do you?”
For a long moment, he was silent. “I got scared.” He shrugged as if that were enough to appease her.
“Yes, well . . . that’s just too bad isn’t it. I was broken. Damaged goods. Who’d want that?”
Right then Dr. Emory came to her mind. He hadn’t left her. He didn’t care that she was broken. And luckily, he had the means to fix her.
When they finally reached the tavern, the moment Tyson stepped into the room the atmosphere change. Every man had some sort of salute to offer their king; every woman a curtsey. Marrying him, Ericca wouldn’t be Queen, but she’d still get a like response from this kingdom’s people. Is that something she wanted though—bows and salutes and pasted-on smiles? The only temptation was, she could do a lot of good as Tyson’s consort. She could see to the building of proper schools and community centers and hospitals and . . . and she could . . .
. . . she could rub Mara’s nose in it.
“Perfect,” she said under her breath. She and Tyson would be known as the Pirate King and his lady. There was a time when that would have been enough. It could easily become her reality if only she could bring herself to capitulate.
Chapter Sixty-Four
A week later:
After a day in Rhone City, near sunset, Ericca struck out on her own. She found and followed a trail that ran beside the Rhone River, a manmade construct that meandered as it circled R
hone’s interior at the equator. It twisted and switched back and forth as it followed the distant upturned curve of the hollow moon, disappearing to a sliver as it climbed toward the pseudo-sunlit roof. It never truly got dark anywhere inside Rhone. There was always enough light reflected off the far, lit side to dimly illuminate the dark side. Just outside the city, on a footbridge that crossed the river, Ericca found a lone fisherman dangling his bare feet over the edge. Even under the muzzy street lamps she could see it was Dr. Emory. He had a small, handheld device that he cast like a fishing pole.
She stepped quietly onto the bridge. “Hi there.”
He turned with a start. “Ah, Miss Archer. How are you this evening?” he said with a friendly smile.
“Mind if I sit?” she said as she took a place beside him.
He dipped his head and cast once more. “So how’s the arm?” he asked casually.
She raised the chrome hand to see, and rubbed her fingers together. “Not quite the same, but I like it.”
“Well, your mind will compensate. The more you use it, the more natural it’ll feel.”
“Look. Can we not talk shop for a moment?”
“Sure. I’m . . .”
“I was heartbroken to hear you’d died,” she said, easing down onto the wood-planked bridge.
He stopped casting, and paused without turning.
“Seeing you lying there, that hurt even more.”
He set down his device and looked at her. “So you know who I am?”
“Why did you want me left in the dark?”
Emory turned away from her, back to the water moving beneath the bridge. He dropped his eyes to stare at his lap perhaps, or perhaps the fish swimming by. “Hurting you was never my intent, Ericca.”
“Oh, that I don’t doubt. You have a tender heart. I don’t think there’s a soul in the ‘verse you would try to hurt. I, on the other hand . . .”
He wrapped an arm around her and gave her a friendly squeeze. “You’re not the badass you want everyone to believe you are. But, you have a level head. I could stand to be a little more like you.”
“And I more like you. I’m thinking, you and I would make a pretty good team if we actually listened to each other.”
“A team? You and me? I’d like that.” He offered his hand as if to seal the deal.
Ericca looked at it, grinned, then leaned to kiss his cheek. “So, how did you fool Hammond’s doctor?”
He looked at her intently. “Dr. Emory was there, but someone else took Jordon’s place on the slab. Hammond’s Doc didn’t see past the holo-projector to question who was actually laying there. It seems even doctors don’t like handling dead bodies more than they have too. The oddest thing was attending my own viewing.”
She snickered, and entwined her arm in his. “I’m just glad to have you back.”
“So when did you figure all this out, my deception and all?”
“Seriously? How many fidgety gadget guys can there be in the ‘verse?”
“Point taken.”
“I know what I want,” she repeated.
“Yeah?”
“I want to start a flight school. I want to train Rhone kids to fly small assault craft; build a defensive force for added protection.”
“Sounds ambitious.”
“I could use your help. Would you be my gadget guy?”
“Hell no.”
“Oh, right. The military weapons thing you just got away from. Got it.”
He rose, took her hand, and brought her to her feet. He picked up his fishing thingy, and she interlaced her arm in his for a casual stroll back to the city.
“Small craft, huh?” he said. His voice was distant and ponderous. “Something similar to Viper. I wonder if there’s a way to fight a war without killing people?”
“In war, people die, Jordy. Ain’t no getting around that.” She watched the city lights begin to flick out here and there as folks bedded down and prepared for another day.
“I don’t believe that. Certainly a smart man could come up with something.”
“Men are stubborn creatures, Jordy. Even if you take away there every weapon, they’ll still try to find some way to kill.”
“No, wait!” He stopped walking. Ericca could almost see the cogs of thought grinding in his head. “Something about fight or flight. Backed in a corner . . .” He began to draw in the air as if on an invisible chalkboard. Once he’d written quite a bit, he folded his arms. Tapping his chin with a forefinger, he nodded his approval. “Yes. That could work.”
Suddenly, Jordon turned to Ericca excitedly, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her on the lips. “Thank you!” He spun to hurry away, but stopped after two steps. Wearing a perplexed face, he turned back to her. “Um, did I just . . .?”
Ericca smiled and raised a coy brow.
“Sorry, I, um, I lost my head.”
She stepped closer to him. “Is that what you call it?”
“Huh? What?”
She kissed his cheek. “You’ll figure it out, eventually.” With that she turned to head off into the darken streets toward her new home. The crisp air was just beginning to chill.
Someone caught her arm and turned her around. It was Jordon.
“I almost forgot to thank you,” he said softly.
“For what?”
“For making me see I was no ship’s captain.”
She felt her own cheeks rise in a smile. “So, Doc, how’s working with amputees?”
“It has some very interesting, ah hum, very unexpected perks.”
“Seriously, do you like it?”
“I’m certainly no weapons engineer or ship’s captain. God, how I hated that life.”
“Yes, well, I’m glad you were a ship’s captain when you were. You rescued Riley and me from a bad situation, and gave us a home. For that, I’ll always be grateful.”
“Can I show you something?” Before she could answer, Jordon touched his belt and his holo-projected disguise melted away. He was Jordy again. He touched it again, and vanished. Ericca felt him. She just couldn’t see him. He reappeared as Emory.
“You and your gadgets,” she said with a chuckle.
He shrugged. “I was thinking. If you could sneak up on an enemy craft completely invisible, would you be able to disable it so no one dies?”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “Reliant had that ability.”
“It did? But I just figured this out a short time ago. I gave Freefall the ability but even in her it wasn’t energy effective. And I know Dad didn’t know how to do it, and he was the one who made Reliant.”
“Reliant could not only vanish, but she could cast false readings a certain distance away from where she actually was. We called it Shadow-casting, or Ghosting.”
He rubbed his brow. “That can’t be right. This technology didn’t exist back then.”
“Well, it did, actually,” she said flatly. “How does it work?”
“Well, I wrote a complex algorithm to modify shield frequencies. Light is bent around the object so shielded.”
“Well, what can I say? Reliant did it.” She glanced over her shoulder to insure their privacy. “Look, I’ve been meaning to ask you, does Riley know you’re alive?”
“He helped me plan this little escape.”
“Did he?”
“He, Mara, Rachel . . . and Buck. I asked Riley not to tell you.”
“What? Why?”
He shrugged again. “I thought you hated me.”
She looked at him then wrapped both arms around his middle to hug him tightly. When she finally released him, she considered his face. “So that’s the reason you were always nervous around me? Mara said I was the only person who made you feel that way.”
“I was responsible for your parents’ deaths . . . my tech anyway. I thought . . .”
“My daddy was a test pilot, Jordon. His job got him killed. Not you. If anything, your tech saved him more often than I can count.”
He sighed. “I
’m glad you feel that way.”
“So now what? Are you still going to create things?”
“I am. Bio-prosthetics right here in Rhone. Buck will bring me injured folks, and with Penko’s help, I’ll get them back on their feet.”
“And do you like your new job?”
“Yes, actually, I love it. I feel like this is what I was meant to do. But . . .” Jordon looked around as if to find eavesdropping ears or prying eyes.
“But what?”
“Come to my house in the morning, early. Can you do that?”
“I can.”
“Then we’ll talk about this then.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
The following morning, Ericca went to the Emory home. Rachel, wearing dark goggles strapped to her forehead, met her at their door, let her in, and led her to the basement workshop. Wearing magnifying eyewear, Jordon sat on a stool looking at some new creation, a coin-sized disc. Ericca recognized some of the equipment surrounding him, and some of those along the walls. Others were new to her. On a nearby table, a half constructed mechanical leg rested on a stand. Rachel pulled her goggles down over her eyes and sat down to working on the leg. Sparks spit and flew as she attached other pieces to it.
“Got this stuff off Freefall?” Ericca asked casually.
“That’s the reason we brought our ship into Rhone,” Rachel told her without turning from her project. “And that’s why Freefall didn’t join the fight. To get it done, Nate, Mom, and I worked through the night.”
“No one saw you moving this stuff?”
“And that brings us to why I wanted you here,” Jordon said. He took the glasses from his face, and held the disc he’d been fiddling with out to her.
Taking it from him, she looked it over carefully before handing it back. “What is that?”
Jordon turned to Rachel. “Can you help her change, sis?”
“Sure,” Race said, “One moment.” A few more sparks flew. “There!” She rose and led Ericca to a small dressing room. “Take off all your clothes and put that on, then come back out here when you’re ready.” She pointed to a small cloth something hanging on a wall hook, and closed the door behind her.
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