Breathing Space: Sunblinded Three (Sunblinded Trilogy Book 3)

by S. J. Higbee

  BREATHING SPACE

  SUNBLINDED: BOOK THREE

  by

  S. J. Higbee

  Griffinwing Publishing

  Published by Griffinwing Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 S. J. Higbee

  Sarah Jane Higbee asserts her moral right to be identified as the author of this book.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.

  All characters and events portrayed in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-911139-08-9

  Cover art by

  Mhairi Simpson

  Griffinwing Publishing

  www.sjhigbee.com

  For Mona,

  Your enthusiasm for Lizzy and her adventures has been enormously helpful

  and so has your help as number one beta reader, but best of all –

  it’s such fun trying out my pretend stories on my sister, all these years later.

  Also available from Griffinwing Publishing

  Running Out Of Space (Sunblinded #1)

  Dying For Space (Sunblinded #2)

  CHAPTER ONE

  I surfaced to find Tomas nuzzling my neck, his stubble rasping my skin, sending shivers down my back. I breathed in his smell, musky and comforting. “Mm...”

  “Morning, sweetheart. Just going for a shower.”

  I rolled over to face him, light-headed with happiness. “Morning…” Still half asleep, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. A gentle kiss, recalling memories of the urgent, passionate versions last night, after we’d made up.

  “Got you a coffee,” he mumbled, after coming up for air, his expression soft and open.

  I groaned, recalling the early morning planning meeting I’d scheduled. “Remind me to fire the idiot who decided it would be a good idea to work through brekkie.”

  He twirled one of my curls around his finger, lifting it away from my eyes. “You work too hard. Let me help.”

  And here we are again! “Let’s not do this.” I was tired to my marrow of fighting with Tomas… Operation Prosper… George’s constant opposition… And most of all, I was tired of struggling to keep on top of my job as Chief of the most powerful mercenary force in Sector Two… I tensed, waiting for him to storm off to the bathroom, hard-faced and angry.

  Instead, he pulled me close. “I really can help.ˮ

  I stroked his back, feeling the knit of his bones and muscles across his shoulders, finding it easier to speak into his chest. “Not now, though. There’s stuff going down…” As he huffed I hurried on, “Don’t you see? I’m protecting you! It all goes wrong – for any reason – and you don’t know a thing about it, then no one can claim you’re the leak.ˮ Even admitting there is a leak is more than I should be saying.

  “I know I’ve only been here a while and you probably won’t want to hear this,” Tomas’s voice buzzed against my face resting above his heart, “but there’s some big problems here. Remember I was…”

  I mouthed the words along with him, “…Coms and Tactical Officer on Shooting Star.”

  I yawned, before mumbling, “I’ve got to get going, or I’m gonna be late.”

  Which merely changed the direction of his nagging. “You’re constantly tired, these days. Hardly a surprise given the insane hours you put in. And there’s that ulcer of yours – you shouldn’t be suffering with something like that! You need to delegate. Your tantrum over the duty roster, for instance…ˮ

  I need to know exactly who’s guarding my apartment and when! And you casually reorganising the roster without telling me isn’t good enough. Pulling away from his embrace, I sat up. “I do! And I’ve a perfectly good aug controlling the ulcer, so that’s sorted. But right now…” Right now, we’re running Operation Prosper to flush out the mole compromising our fighting force and – hopefully – haul my murderous brother, Eddy, to a halt. Which means there aren’t enough hours in the day, given everything else that’s piling up. Though I couldn’t tell Tomas any of that. Because my title – Chief of the Peace and Prosperity Corps, largest mercenary organisation in Sector Two – was becoming a bad joke. The Council really ran the Peace and Prosperity Corps, known as the P’s, while George, my Number Two, was increasingly pulling The Council’s strings.

  I wrapped the sheet around my fingers as I recalled the look of fury on George’s face last year when I refused to buckle in the face of his scuzzy attempt to blackmail me into stepping down. Instead, I showed him a holo of a certain receipt that had come into my possession – a receipt for a powerful and rare contact poison, bearing his name. He declared that it was a forgery, which was a flat lie and we both knew it. He was clearly shocked that I’d got hold of it – and that I’d made arrangements for its existence to be released to all my followers in the event of my unexpected death.

  We’d agreed, after glares and snapped threats were exchanged, to continue with the status quo – me as Chief and George working as my Number Two. But I knew he was increasingly unhappy with the situation. For example, when Tomas and I first got together three months ago, George had declared himself delighted that I’d finally found happiness – before persuading The Council to pass a No Confidence Motion in Tomas, claiming his pitching up at our headquarters, Restormel, some six months earlier, was ‘too convenient’. He shook his head over Tomas having served under my stepfather and, therefore, knowing Eddy. George was always mentioning that Eddy was my half-brother, these days.

  “Right now, there’s a pile of dross going on I can’t talk about,” I said, unwinding the sheet from my fingers.

  “So you keep saying. All that means is you don’t trust me,” Tomas replied.

  I winced at the hurt in his eyes. “I’d tell you in a heartbeat if I could. But with George breathing down my neck…” Are these secrets going to strangle our relationship, after all?

  “Maybe you should find time to talk things through with him. He’s very concerned about you.”

  I blinked. “You’ve changed trajectory. Last time his name came up, you were all for bouncing him out’ve the P’s.” An impossibility, given our history – though I can’t share the circumstances around our standoff, either.

  Tomas shifted. “Him and me had a chat. Cleared the air.”

  “Watch your back, then. George is at his most lethal when he’s smiling and calling you friend,” I said flatly.

  He ran a finger across my shoulder, making me shiver. “Maybe you don’t understand where he’s coming from.”

  I gritted my teeth at the familiar wash of hopelessness as I tried to make Tomas aware of the danger he was in, without telling him anything. “I do. Only too clearly, as it happens. Be careful around him is all I’m saying. And don’t go anywhere without your guards.”

  “You worry too much, Lizzy.” A Tomas-refrain that had begun to grate.

  It was a solid relief when my alarm started bleeping. “Better check my coms.” I moved to retrieve it.

  Instead of heading for his shower, as I expected, Tomas knelt back on the bed and gently took me in his arms. “I’m sorry, beautiful. Didn’t mean to start all this bilgecrud the minute you opened your eyes. I know you’re out’ve your depth, right now—ˮ

  What! I’m not—

  Before I had time to react, Tomas fastened his mouth on mine. It was a good kiss. And so was the lovemaking that followed it…

  We finally surfaced, giggling together like naughty children, over one of his stupid jokes. Tomas
had a fund of silly puns and wordplays, which I don’t suppose were all that funny, but they always made me laugh.

  “What about saving time and showering together?” he suggested, kissing my nose before rolling out of bed. “Seeing as we’re both running behind…”

  “While I love the idea of sharing a shower – you’re too gorgeous and I’m too late.” I scrambled out of bed, scooped up my com, along with the day’s uniform I’d laid out the previous night. Though I noticed my com was running Silent, I didn’t think too much about it as I’d been known to turn it down in my sleep. After all, if anyone really wanted to contact me, they could always get the guards to hammer on the door.

  You do need to make him understand the situation. While it may be fun tangling the sheets with him, you can’t keep using that stuff instead of talking to him. Jessica, former best friend and current ghost, abruptly surfaced to give her opinion with the force of a bad migraine as Tomas disappeared into the bathroom.

  Yeah, but not right now. Massaging my forehead, I went looking for a pain patch, knowing from hard experience that trying to power through such a headache wouldn’t end well.

  And if I were you, I’d get to the bottom of this George-is-not-such-a-snake business. Cos we both know he is. So what’s he playing at, making nice with Tomas? Jessica didn’t back off once she got her teeth into a notion.

  Later, okay? I can’t think straight with my head pounding. I was still fiddling with the pain patch when Tomas emerged after his shower.

  He hauled on his running gear. “Not another bad head? Here… sit down.”

  “I need to get going. The Procurement Committee will think I’ve gone into cryo stasis at this rate.” My protests were half-hearted as he whipped my com out of my hand and dumped it on the bed. “Sit. They’ll cope without you for another handful of minutes.” His kiss on the top of my head belied his bossy words and his fingers were gentle as he massaged the tension knots in my shoulders and neck, easing down the nagging pain.

  I was still revelling in the feeling of relief, when he bent down and kissed me. “I’d better redshift outta here. Those clueless newbies can hardly wipe their sorry arses without being shown how. See you later.” He paused. “Let me know if you can’t make dinner.”

  Another flashpoint, as Tomas had waited over one cooling meal too many while I was engrossed elsewhere. “I promise. Have a good day, lover.”

  “Take care, sweeting.”

  I still sometimes dream of the look on his face as he blew me a kiss.

  I closed my eyes as Tomas’s smell lifted off my skin under the stream of steaming water, determined to savour the next few moments of hot running water and expensive soap, given that the rest of the day promised to be one long list of dreary chores.

  As if on cue, my com pinged. I was cursing my decision to link my com to the shower’s speaker option when I saw it was George. “Good morning, what can I do for you?”

  “When you can spare the time, Chief, I need a word.” George’s voice could have frozen lava.

  “What’s the problem, Number Two?” I leaned on his title. The only excuse he has for that tone is if we’ve lost a ship, or— Mother Earth, don’t say we’ve lost a ship! I raised my voice over the roar of warm air, as the auto-dryer started up. “George?”

  “Not now, Elizabeth. We’ll meet in your Ready Room in fifteen.” George abruptly broke the connection.

  I hauled on my uniform; ran my fingers through my curls; smeared some gloss over my kiss-chapped lips and made for the door. Please don’t let it be a lost ship.

  As I rushed through the door, my personal guard fell in around me, forcing me to slow down.

  “Chief.” David, my main tactician, appeared beside me, grim-faced and stiffly formal.

  “What’s going on?”

  David blinked. “You truly don’t know?”

  “Would I be asking if I did?”

  David drew level, lowering his voice, “Better wait til we get to your Ready Room, when we can figure out damage limitation.”

  “Right.” Fighting my inclination to kick David hard in the shins, I lengthened my stride. Former training mates, David and I knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses more thoroughly than many married couples, so I knew whatever had gone down was serious.

  My apartment was conveniently close to the Ready Room, so we only needed to march another couple of dozen steps down the thickly carpeted corridor, before David and I sped through the door to be confronted with George pacing up and down.

  George tossed his com across the room. As I caught it, he added, “Care to comment?”

  I read it through. Then twice more, willing it not to be there, as I leaned against the desk while my legs turned watery – for it to be some lame-brained prank. “I didn’t send this,” my voice was loud and angry. “Where did—”

  “Your room. Using your codes. If you think about it. Apart from me and…” George looked across to David as he continued, “…no one else has the clearance to do this much damage. Other than Jasen. And it was he who contacted me, wanting to know what you were playing at.”

  “I was asleep!” After a couple of glasses of champagne, a delicious meal and wonderful sex— I rubbed my eyes. “Where is Tomas, now?”

  “Detained. On his way to the training ground.” George’s face was expressionless.

  “That’s where he said he’d be.” It was difficult to speak… to breathe… to keep upright…

  “At least he hasn’t tried to run,” added David, who’d shaken his head over my relationship with Tomas, telling me I should get to know him better before tangling the sheets with him.

  He’s not a spy! No point in saying it. If Tomas was a double-agent, we’d find out soon enough. I shivered, wishing I was somewhere else, anywhere…

  “You want us to deal with this, my dear?” George’s sudden false sympathy was worse than David’s chilly condemnation.

  I shook my head, unable to speak.

  Chris, one of my guards, handed me a large cup of coffee as we headed towards the Crypt, down in the bowels of the building. The Peace and Prosperity Corps’ official headquarters, bought and refitted by General Norman, was a copy of an ancient Earth building called The Pentagon. As we descended into its depths, I wondered if back then there were bleak interrogation cells painted in drab green shades of misery, stinking of sweat and fear, also tucked underneath the original white façade. As the Earth version had also belonged to a military outfit, I’m guessing there probably were.

  As we approached the interrogation room, I could hear Tomas’s angry baritone buzzing through the walls. And the sudden groan that brought his rant to an abrupt halt.

  David stopped. “Why don’t you let us handle this?”

  George nodded, patting my shoulder. “This can’t be easy for you.”

  Oh yeah. Now it’s getting messy, let the grown-ups deal with it and whisk the little woman away. Jessica had a point.

  Ignoring them, I opened the door.

  Muddy and dishevelled, Tomas was clamped to a chair. An ugly lump was forming on his right temple and blood was running from his nose and cut lip. His smile of relief sliced my soul as I entered the room.

  “Lizzy – am I glad to see you! Call off these brain-warped bar-scum, will you? There’s been a mistake…” his voice faded along with his smile as I watched him, saying nothing. Until I saw him visibly swallow.

  “What happened at 04.27?”

  “Your com pinged.” He tried for a shrug. “I was awake, so I got up to see who it was.”

  “Even though we discussed this? Even though I’d made it clear you were to step right away from all P’s business?” my voice rose, despite my best intentions to keep calm.

  “Just as well I did! It was an all-points Mergency Hail from William Shakespeare. Remember the William Shakespeare?” Tomas radiated righteous anger. “Where your best friend lives. Where my aunt and cousins now crew. They were being herded towards Erato by a pirate fleet and no one was r
esponding to their hails!”

  I bit my lip. Wishing that Alisha’s face wasn’t shuttering through my head. Wishing I could erase the images of her wedding dance with Alex, a quiet decent bloke, who adored her. When I last heard from her at Christmas, she was expecting their second baby back at Freshwater and fiercely missing her husband.

  Don’t you fall apart now! You’ve told both David and Number Two-Faced Git that you’re up to this. If you buckle now, Himself’ll be wearing your gizzards around his neck within the year. While Jessica’s take on the situation was overly dramatic, she was right to point out that I needed to get a grip.

  “So why didn’t you mention this business when you woke me this morning?” Because if you’re truly innocent, surely you’d have told me.

  Tomas sighed. “We’d had a great night. I knew you’d break orbit if I gave it a mench that I’d so much as breathed on your precious com and I wanted just one morning without any grief.” His voice grew louder, “And I wanted you to discover for yourself what’s wrong around here! I’m sicker than a spacespooked cat of trying to warn you, while you stare over my shoulder, waiting for me to run out of air.”

  I stared at him, shaken at his bitterness. We never stood a chance, him and me. And I was a solid fool to think we could make it work.

  “So what did you do about this state of affairs, then?” asked George, pleasantly.

  “I’d… noticed Lizzy’s passcode a while back—”

  The stone-faced guard standing beside Tomas raised an eyebrow at George, who nodded at him. He back-handed Tomas. Hard. My lover’s head jerked back and he called out. A sharp cry of pain.

  “Don’t lie,” the words fell out of my mouth, feeling like they belonged to someone else. “The instant you lie, they’ll know. And they’ll hurt you. You didn’t notice my passcode. I don’t leave it lying around. You must’ve gone looking for it. And you must’ve been looking a while.”

  He stared at me, white-faced and bleeding. His expression scared. Disbelieving. A light year away from the soft, loving smile he’d worn when bending to kiss me goodbye less than an hour ago. “So it’s true. You only really care about being the Chief! Everyone else can take a dive out’ve the airlock—”