by J. A. Clarke
In the upper level hallway, she automatically turned toward the great room. Alerik's boots thumped behind her on the metaplat skin of the floor.
The lumens bloomed to full intensity as she stood in the middle of the room and willed the blankness in her mind away.
"It's my fault," she whispered. "It's my fault. It's my fault."
Hard hands caught her under her armpits as her knees gave way. Alerik pulled her back against him. For once, the solid heat of his body didn't, couldn't soothe her.
"It was his choice," he said. "And it was the right solution. The priests agreed to release you in exchange for hosting Morgon for a two-rotation. Everything possible is being done through diplomatic channels to secure an earlier release."
"Then why the exchange?" She tried to move away from him, but his arms tightened around her. "Why not use diplomatic channels to secure my release?" But she knew the answer. A rush of hot anger caused her to drive her elbow into his side and slam her heel down on his foot. It was enough to gain her freedom.
She whirled and thrust a finger in his face. "Don't you dare coddle me with platitudes," she shouted. "It isn't working, is it? How could it? And you all knew it from the beginning. How can you practice diplomacy with a sect that doesn't exist? How do you even find them? Even the Taragon elders are clueless. They're gone from Pallas Four, aren't they? Did you put a tracker on them?"
Alerik's eyes glittered as he absently rubbed his side. "It was a condition of your release that we let them go. The tracker lost them early."
"Of course." In an instant, anger evaporated to be replaced by fear and grief. "They'll destroy him," she whispered. "Two rotations is a long time and utterly meaningless. They won't return him alive. They'll strip his memories and his knowledge. Why did he do it? Nargune knows. She knows he's the mastermind behind the network that's been intercepting the children."
"Maegan--"
"No!" She moved back. She didn't want to be comforted. Couldn't bear the compassion she saw in his eyes. "I did this. If I hadn't gone looking for him--"
"Quite possibly the result would have been the same. You were taken in the tunnel habitat. The priests had somehow discovered it when all our technology couldn't. They might eventually have found Morgon there, but they found you instead. They sought something or someone, Maegan, and we're becoming more convinced that it wasn't the children. They didn't leave Pallas Four after they took you. They only left after the exchange."
"When they had Morgon."
"Yes."
"We have to look for him."
"We let diplomacy do its work."
"They'll have taken him to The Divide." She didn't know how she knew that. She just did. Pain laced through her palms. She realized her fists were clenched so tightly her nails had bruised the tender skin.
Alerik shook his head. "Don't even think about it."
"I can find their base. Morgon described it to me once."
"Maegan!"
Alerik's tone would have made a subordinate shudder. It pierced her all-consuming determination.
He stepped forward to within a hand's breadth of her. It was a deliberate attempt to intimidate.
"You will do nothing," he said through gritted teeth. "The Council has been fully briefed. The diplomats are working on it. You will do nothing."
"Then he'll die."
"He had choices. We had choices."
"He didn't know about Nargune."
"It wouldn't have changed his decision."
"You don't know that. You don't know him." Anger was beginning to burn inside her again. She loathed this feeling of utter helplessness, hated the restrictions her husband placed on her. She should have been plotting a course to The Divide and sending messages to the relay network.
"I spent enough time with him to know that your safety would be worth any sacrifice he had to make."
"If our positions were reversed, he'd be doing everything to find me and free me. He wouldn't be leaving it to the slieking diplomats." Anger and grief raised her voice to a decibel level that stunned her. Appalled, she took some deep gulps of air to calm herself.
Alerik's expression was as threatening as she'd ever seen it. His eyes and temple mark were almost black, his nostrils flared, his lips narrowed and tight. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her to him.
"We will find him," he bit out. His sapphire gaze drilled deep into her. His grip tightened to the point of pain.
"Leave it alone, Maegan. Leave it alone. You don't want to test me on this."
Chapter 19
Margaine Confluence:/Second Rising
Pallas Five
"How's the miniature Alerik project coming?"
It was late morning, and Sharm Foster strolled into the small workout chamber as if he weren't hanans late for duty. Late for Sharm was unheard of. No doubt he had a mag-tight excuse, except Alerik didn't give a sliek. Nor was he in the mood to tolerate Sharm's goading.
Sweat soaked his body from the talweights. His biceps and thighs were beginning to burn. Time to stop. He had been at this too long and it hadn't helped. Nothing had helped. Worry for Maegan hammered at him in arbitration, stole his concentration in council and dug claws into his chest without warning. Neither arbitration nor council had gone well.
The workout chamber had been almost at capacity when he'd arrived. It had cleared out quickly and now, with the exception of Sharm, he was alone.
He glowered at his second from the talweight bench. "Nice of you to show up. Anyone brief you on your leisurely way in here?"
Sharm stopped before the refreshment dispenser. "Lagale," he ordered. It took only nanonans for the goblet to fill, but Alerik caught himself grinding his teeth.
His second retrieved the goblet and took a swallow. "Aah, just the thing." He resumed his stroll across the room. "Funny thing. Team's jumpy as jackburs this morning. Not much talk going on at all. Barely got a respectful greeting. Been gone a whole day too."
"Maybe it's because their team commander wasn't around for stratsec this morning."
"Did you fill in? That would explain it then." Sharm stood over him and regarded him with a perfectly expressionless face. Then he turned, pulled down the neighboring talweight bench and settled himself on it. He swung his ankle across his knee and took another swallow of ale.
"Was told to stay away from here if I valued my life. Why is that, I wonder?"
Alerik pulled at the bar, and refrained from grinding his teeth again. Sharm was baiting him. They'd been down this path many times. For some reason, unknown at present, Sharm was trying to make him lose his composure. He was neither in the mood, nor did he have the patience today.
He switched tactics. He let go of the bar, leaned back on the bench and folded his hands behind his head. "Was she worth disciplinary action?"
"Sliek, yes!" Sharm fell right into step. His eyes lit up. "Think we could move the governor's seat to Pallas Four? There's no compelling reason, after all, for it to be on Pallas Five. Would make Maegan happy. Might encourage those miniature Aleriks to appear a little faster."
To his absolute amazement, Alerik felt his legendary patience splinter. "Enough!" he roared. He slammed his fist down on the bench. It was like watching someone else, yet he couldn't stop himself, couldn't grab back his control. "The galaxy is on the verge of descending into chaos again and you're off with a woman, neglecting your duty?"
To his credit, Sharm's expression displayed no satisfaction over achieving his objective. But then he shook his perfectly groomed head, shifted to a more comfortable position on the bench and clicked his tongue. "Figured the little Alerik project wasn't going that well."
Alerik shot to his feet.
"Did you know that Mistress Gloriana has quite an interesting background?" A grin still stretched across Sharm's face, but his eyes were watchful over the rim of his cup.
Anger instantly deflated, Alerik sank back onto the bench. "Fires of Crillac, why do you do this? Why do I put up with it?"
"Be
cause it's entertaining--for me at least. It releases tension for you...and because I'm the best second you'll ever have."
"Sliek, that's debatable." Alerik rubbed at his throbbing temple mark. "You spent your day off with Mistress Gloriana?"
"Only part of it. There was this lovely little black-haired siren who can do things with her mouth that makes--"
The sound that left Alerik's throat was half-snarl, half-growl.
"All right, then." Sharm cocked an eyebrow. "Later?"
"Is Mistress Gloriana's background of significance or not?"
"Could be." Sharm set his cup down. "Turns out she was a temple slave." He flicked at something on his sleeve. "On Taragon. Toward the end of the Great Conflict."
Tiny hairs rose on Alerik's nape. "Sacred crystals!"
"That's not the best part." Sharm unfolded himself from his bench and stood. "She wasn't just any temple slave." He began to pace, hands behind his back, a sure sign he was deeply focused on his thoughts. "She served a woman priest and her young female disciple. Believe you may have heard of the disciple recently." He swung to face Alerik.
"Nargune." Alerik stood as well. Bile rose in his throat as he remembered Maegan's utter repulsion over what had been done to her. Adrenalin raced through his body. Somehow he wasn't surprised that Sharm was steps ahead. "You were briefed."
Sharm spread his hands. "I serve you. I can't do that well if I'm not informed. Corenna contacted me after you informed the Council and briefed the team."
"What made you go to Mistress Gloriana?"
"Body language."
"Body language?"
"Her body language was off when the priests were on Pallas Four. Their presence was more than just a nuisance to her. She was concealing fear and panic, and she did it very well."
"Not well enough."
Sharm shrugged. "I would have questioned her eventually. The communication from Corenna just sped it up."
"Mistress Gloriana doesn't strike me as the chatty type."
His second grinned. His handsome face transformed into mischievous boy. It was one of the reasons people underestimated him. "She's chatty all right. Just takes the right incentive."
"Don't want to know." Alerik slashed a hand through the air.
"Huh. Definitely not a good morning in the land of marriage partnerships...or is it the-- All right, all right." Sharm snickered. Not one of Alerik's other subordinates would have dared push as hard. And Sharm was pushing hard today.
"She was liberated when the Treaty stripped the priests of their powers. Took one of the first Coalition transports off Taragon. Had nothing to her name. Everything she has on Pallas Four, she's built with sweat, bribes, her brains, even her body."
Once again, Alerik had to tamp down on a too swift rise of impatience. "Nargune?"
"Oh, right. Nasty piece of toble, that one, even as young as she was at the time." Sharm was suddenly deadly serious. "Contrary to what we believe, to what the Coalition believes, it seems the male priests might not have wielded the power. Gloriana called the woman priest she served the sha-priestess, the one who controlled ultimate power. Nargune was in training but, frankly, Gloriana seemed more terrified of her. Wanted to know if anyone knew if she was still alive. Went so far as to say the only way the galaxy would know peace is if she was destroyed."
"And she has Morgon."
"Instead of Maegan," Sharm replied swiftly.
"Maegan knows she has Morgon."
"Thought the plan was to keep that from her?"
"She asked. I couldn't lie." And he should have. Should have lied to protect her. She might have forgiven him. Eventually.
"And knowing Maegan, she's wants to mount a rescue?"
"Yes."
"Have a feeling," Sharm said quietly, "that Morgon, certainly more than you or I, knew what he was getting into. He did it for Maegan. Just a guess, but I think he knew he might not come out of this alive, despite the assurances of a two-rotation return."
Alerik turned to face the plexiwall and a view that didn't register. His heart beat painfully in his chest. His head ached. "I can't clip her wings forever, Sharm. It would destroy her."
And it would destroy him to lose her. The worst of it was, he might already have lost her. She would never forgive him if anything happened to her uncle. Of all the decisions he had made in his life, consulting the Match Key was quite possibly the most ill-judged.
* * * *
An impasse.
Maegan didn't know how much more testosterone and male posturing she could take. The small room reeked of it. A laserray couldn't fry it.
In her view, the solution was clear. None of the males in the conference room in the security center on Pallas Five agreed. Nor could they agree on a compromise.
The worst offenders, Alerik Mariltar and Sharm Foster, seated across the wide console from one another, would have been a hairspit away from coming to blows if not for their over civilized upbringing.
Maegan couldn't stand it. She had twice been on the verge of yelling that the protocols and mores of the Mariltar Nation had no place on this tiny asteroid on the fringe of the galaxy, where counselors often looked the other way as known pirate traders mingled with law-abiding travelers and tourists.
A good knock-down, knock-out fight would do both men a world of good. But no, body language aside, they used the polite words of diplomats, which was getting slieking nowhere.
Yet despite her own simmering emotions, Maegan eyed Sharm with a grudging respect. He seemed totally immune to the icy anger emanating from Alerik, and hadn't backed down from his own predictable, totally conformist position: any initiative, scout party, rescue mission or otherwise, required a mandate from the Coalition Council since one of the nine nations was in this up to their collective eyeballs. The other men and one woman, besides herself, at the table had long since refrained from offering their opinions.
And there was something she didn't understand. A persistent feeling she wasn't being told all there was to know about her exchange with Morgon. So if others could keep secrets, she decided, so could she. She tuned out Alerik's current argument for launching a covert mission across The Divide to focus on the problem.
Why would Nargune accept Morgon as a substitute for six children? Had Morgon been the target all along and Maegan herself an unexpected means to that end? Why would the priests want Morgon? True, he was the architect of the rescue operation, but he hadn't had any day-to-day involvement for a good long while, and the network was well enough established with dedicated volunteers to continue the missions without interruption. They'd been outwitting the Taragon patrols for longer than a rotation. Nothing about that would change. But the priests wouldn't know that. With Morgon out of action, it's possible they believed the problem solved.
Something still didn't add up. Maegan rubbed her temples. A headache was beginning to develop, a regular occurrence since her abduction.
The flat screen embedded in the console in front of her bore an image of the Grogon Belt. Her mind automatically began to plot a flight path. Forget the mandate from the Coalition Council. Wouldn't happen in a lifetime, and what were they supposed to do in the meantime? Sit on their hands and assure themselves Morgon was all right?
Forget Alerik's scout party too. As soon as the scout vessels crossed out of Grogon airspace, the governor had no authority. Alerik would be putting his career and his team at risk, although loyal as his team was, they all, with the exception of Sharm appeared more than willing to go along with his proposal. Corenna and Drakal were visibly revved by the prospect.
She was certain Morgon had left his vessel at the smart dock. She was equally certain the Mariltar team hadn't discovered the structure when they had investigated his habitat. The technology would have generated an excitement that would have filtered into the discussion at some point. The navigation console in Morgon's vessel could have information on the route across The Divide. It was the only place to start, even though they didn't have a slieking dewring
where Morgon had been taken.
She could hardly launch a mission onto Taragon itself.
Once again, she'd have to figure out how to evade Alerik. It became harder every time.
She glanced up from the console. Her gaze collided with sapphire blue.
Alerik's eyes narrowed. Fascinated, she watched as they turned smoky. In the background she was aware of Sharm talking. He was apparently holding a conversation with himself because, Alerik, now focused on her, was clearly no longer paying attention. A quick look around the table showed the rest of the team openly watching either her husband or her with expressions ranging the gamut from amusement to concern.
"Don't. Even. Think. About. It."
An abrupt silence fell, followed by a heavy sigh and a creak as Sharm leaned back in his chair.
Maegan wrinkled her nose. "Last I heard, the Lady Melia was in assorted pieces on the Pallas Five dock. How could I?"
"You've resorted to bribery before."
"And now my head shot, I'm sure, is available to pirates and law-abiding captains alike."
Someone started to laugh and covered it with a cough.
Alerik leaned forward. "With your extraordinary range of talents, wife, I wouldn't be the least surprised to learn you can hack-jump a vessel."
Maegan blinked. She and an ambitious group of four others, also chafing at the restrictions imposed by the academy, had set out to impress an instructor by hack-jumping his vessel. They had succeeded with the hack-jump. The instructor hadn't been impressed. He'd been furious, and they had suffered the rest of the rotation without a single privilege. The incident had certainly made it into her permanent record. So Alerik knew she could hack-jump a vessel.
"Is that even possible?"
This time, the snickers were audible and there was another heavy sigh from the other end of the table where Sharm sat.
Alerik's eyes darkened, then cleared to brilliant sapphire. He sat back. "You're right about one thing," he said. "Every dock in the Grogon Belt has your head shot, your eye scan and your hand scan, as well as a "deny access" order on you."
It was nothing less than she'd expected. "Well then," she said, "I'll just have to check with Makiee to see if the ID exchanger is ready yet."