Ohber_Warriors of Milisaria

by Celeste Raye

  Restless now, he made for the door but his interface buzzed, and he paused as he saw with some chagrin that the incoming telecall was routed from his future bride.

  Renall forced a pleasant smile and answered. Laria’s face swam into focus. Her species, like his, was human-like in appearance, with a few notable exceptions. Laria’s head was a long smooth expanse, and her skin a pearly and sheer thing. Her eyes were wide and too large for the delicate bones of her face. Her cheekbones high. She was nice to look at, and he had always been pleased with her appearance, but now he found himself comparing her features to Clara’s, and that bothered him a great deal as Laria greeted him and he greeted her in return.

  Laria asked, “When do you return here for your next visit?”

  “In a week.” His thoughts drifted back to the floor. “How are things?”

  “Fine. Thanks.” Laria paused and then added, “The temple is coming along nicely, and my father asked me to extend to you his gratitude for the donation that made building it possible.”

  Donation, hell. He was funneling a lot of credits into Laria’s planet. While her planet was big on purity, they were also big on skilled warfare, and they turned out some of the finest fighters in the galaxy. They would be necessary to him when he gained his planet. “That’s good to hear, and he is most welcome.”

  Laria said, “In fact, that is why I am calling you. It seems the credits have run out and there is still work to do.”

  Dammit. Every ‘donation’ set him back. Every setback meant he had more work to do to gain his own coffers. That was the price of peace, and he well knew it, but at that moment, it grated on his nerves. He kept his voice bland. “Oh?”

  Laria nodded. Her lambent eyes glistened slightly as she leaned closer to the screen. “Father will be calling this evening, promptly at nine your time, to discuss future plans for the temple.”

  In other words, to give him a bill and a demand. Renall’s body wanted to tense up, but he didn’t allow it to. Laria’s people were not psychic, but they were good at reading situations, and he knew any tension that he revealed now would be taken as a sign of unwillingness to donate any more credits to the temple. The temple that was part and parcel of the deal he had brokered with her father, who had grossly underestimated—and probably deliberately—the cost of the damned temple. “I will be awaiting his call.”

  Laria leaned back. She seemed satisfied with that answer. Renall tried to think of a single thing to say to her beyond that and found he had nothing. He knew very little about her life. Laria was a priestess at a small temple and would remain in that position until they wed. She seemed to have no conversation beyond what happened within the temple walls, and much of what happened within those walls was kept very secret, so their discussions around those things was also limited.

  His heart sank. How was he supposed to have a life with her?

  Laria spoke again. “I have duties to attend to, so I fear I must go. I look forward to your visit.”

  “As do I.” He clicked the interface off. His legs carried him to the door and then out onto the floor. The day had just begun, but the hall was in full swing. Several ships had arrived, disgorging everything from space cowboys to troop members from various cargo ships. Galley ship crew stood about, gawking at the Gurley’s and the tables. The ones who had never been out of their own systems before and who had clearly never seen anything like what they were seeing now stuck out like sore thumbs.

  Renall made eye contact with one of his security officers who nodded at him and cut his eyes at the rubes.

  The rubes were the ones to watch, for the most part. They drank too much and got too happy with their credits at the tables and other games. They occasionally wanted more from a Gurley than what they had paid for and then tried to get rough with them. They often fought each other, either on the floor or in the chambers above where they’d taken sleeping rates and rights.

  Renall strolled past the tables. All of his dealers were indentured, but all of them got a small cut of their daily profits. He was nothing if not fair. He knew that when indentureship ended, far too many former indentureds ended up with nothing but a small bag of clothes and a thank you and see you later. It was cheaper to take on more indentureds than it was to keep skilled workers in most of the galaxy, and so that system continued unabated. He wanted his to have a chance at starting a life outside of that. A few of his former indentureds were still there, and he had the logic to realize that they needed to have more than one skill. Several former dealers were now security. Several former security indentureds now ran the upper rooms, making sure that the chambers were kept clean and fresh and the furnishings unbroken. It was a good setup, and he enjoyed it, even if he did not care for Orbitary itself.

  The planet was too restrictive and controlling for his liking, not to mention expensive.

  Clara’s table was packed. Renall stood some distance behind the table, watching closely. She dealt fair. That was the first thing that drew the crowd in. She was a challenge, which also drew a crowd. She had been there for a matter of weeks and already had a reputation as being an incredible player. The few who beat her were happy to brag that they had won a hand against the steeliest carder in the system.

  His lips twitched as he considered that. It was a high compliment and that she had earned it so easily and quickly was a huge testament to her skill level.

  His eyes went to her bare shoulders gleaming around the colorful dress she wore. He had to blank his mind or risk being spotted with a telltale bulge in his suit.

  A shout at the other end of the hall caught his attention. Sure enough, two rubes were fighting. Security quickly moved in and stopped it. Renall’s attention went back to Clara.

  His eyes landed on the face of the Borgite who had been at her table the night before when she had won that large pot. Borgites were the most rational of all creatures, and he wondered why the creature even played the game. Logic stated it was not the best game to win. Maybe that was the reason why. The Borgites played for the sheer pleasure of it and only after assessing all the odds.

  Clara lost a hand to the Borgite a few minutes later. She did it with a genuine smile of pleasure too. In fact, her eyes glowed as she cried out, “You caught me!” and slid over the credits.

  The Borgite stood, and then it doffed its hat and bowed its head. Renall’s mouth fell open. Borgites rarely, if ever, showed respect for anyone or anything. That this one had spoke volumes.

  He drew closer. The other players drifted off to seek fresh amusements while Clara and the Borgite settled out the credits. As Renall reached the table, the Borgite took a hundred credit chip from the vast pile.

  The Borgite spoke. “This is for the pleasure of the game.” He set it on the table. Clara smiled up at the creature. “Thank you very much. I appreciate that.”

  The Borgite tucked away the credits and strolled off. Renall drew the walls and spoke. “Very good game.”

  Her eyes met his. “I lost the last hand.”

  “One out of three is not bad.”

  Clara’s eyes danced. “True. Those are pretty good odds. But the earlier pots were very small. I am afraid he took off with all the profits from the first two games, so I am exactly at zero.’

  “The day’s young.” His eyes ran over her again. The dress emphasized the creamy swell of her breasts and the glistening black silk of her hair. He spoke again. “You do know you have already gained quite the reputation here.”

  “Have I?” She tucked the hundred-credit chip into the small bag she kept for the tips she earned at the table, and which she was not obligated to share.

  “Oh yes. I almost hate to see you go when your time is done.”

  Her shoulders drew down a little. “I have to admit I have not given too much thought to what happens when I am no longer in your debt.”

  The walls provided soundproofing as well as invisibility. That emboldened him. “No?”

  “No.” Her eyes met his. He read uncertainty t
here. “I don’t think I could go back, even if I were in possession of my file and without the chip. My face is too well known. I also don’t have a single clue what else is out there. But you said eventually you will sell this hall, and I am also not sure I want to work for anyone else.”

  Her eyes fell to the cards in her hands. She fanned them neatly then stacked them with quick, sure movement. “This planet of yours, is that—I mean, that’s your future?”

  He didn’t talk about that planet too often, not unless he was speaking to his allies or brothers. He took a seat at the table. “Yes. I…we grew up on the ship after our home planet, Revant, was destroyed by a warp suck. After our ship was taken, we were taken to the mines in Sonagis, so we never had much in the way of a home.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “I don’t know where that is.”

  “It’s nowhere.” The past was always there, just waiting to trap him into its misery. He drew a breath. “My family was captured by Gorlites and the cargo ship they owned seized.”

  Her frown grew deeper. “Gorlites?”

  “They’re without a homeland. Parasites. They capture ships and ride them until they are junked then take another. They took my father’s ship and killed him, my mother, and most of the crew. Those of us who survived were left in the outlying world. Sonagis.”

  Clara’s mouth hung open. “They just…they just dumped you?”

  How he wished he could say yes to that. “No. They sold us. Sonagis is a mining planet.”

  Her face showed horror. “Mining? Isn’t that dangerous?”

  Too dangerous. Both his uncles and many others that had survived the Gorlites taking of the ship had died in the mines, either from the creep-lung or the rot, or from simple starvation and overwork. Many who had lived had been broken.

  Clara leaned back in the chair. “How did you get away?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Talon was young, but he loved ships from the moment he drew breath. He was always on the bridge and watching as the ship flew. Father indulged him. He allowed him to fly at times when we were far past systems and in pure space. One day a small craft landed very near the mines. Talon, Marik, Jeval, and I decided to make a break for it. We, and a few others who had flight experience, seized the ship and ran as fast as we could.”

  Clara’s eyes rounded. She whispered, “That’s so…that’s so incredible.”

  Renall wasn’t sure why he was telling her that. It was not something he was comfortable talking about, in truth. “It was desperation.”

  Clara said, “And brave too.”

  He found he could barely breathe. Something sprang up between them, something warm and so different from anything he had ever known. Uncomfortable now, he lifted the walls and said, “I’ll let you continue with your game.”

  He strode away quickly, but the past dogged his footsteps. It was a long way from the mines to the hall. They’d spent a century gathering the first part of the credits that had gotten them to the larger ship they’d had to have to work the stripping crews. It had taken another to show a real and viable profit. But there were still far too many moments in his life when he was terribly afraid he would awaken in his filthy crib in the mine shafts to discover that all of this was just some fever-induced dream.

  Chapter 8:

  Clara deliberately took her time setting up a table, keeping the closed light lit as she thought about what Renall had told her. How had he done it? How had he gone from being a slave in a mine to being the incredibly wealthy being that he was then?

  It was mind-boggling.

  No wonder he treated his people so fairly, she mused as she hit the light to signal her table was open for play. He was fair, even if she railed against the fact that so much of what she earned had to go to satisfy so many debts she had run up just by speaking for her family, and then Dana’s.

  Not that she was paying much in the way of debt to Dana and her daughters. The women were accomplished and the clothing they made wonderful. The Gurley girls gleefully bought the creations and the profits were already piling up and eradicating their debts to Renall.

  The table filled. The game began. Clara pushed thoughts of Renall away, knowing she had to concentrate hard now.

  The day waxed and waned. Night set in, signaled by the thinning of the air and the gathering of larger crowds. The wine flowed freely, as did the harder spirits. The Gurley girls ended their shifts, and fresh dancers came onto the stage. Clara was engrossed in a table that was made up of either the very wealthy or the very stupid; she was not sure which. The stakes were incredibly high. Nearly thirty thousand credits were on the table, and she had what was a good hand, but not a winner. Still, the house percentage would be high too. She folded then dealt swiftly, knowing the end was coming. All but four players were gone now. Two were hanging in out of sheer stubborn determination.

  Clara knew a rube when she saw one and worry began to set in when the last three players took the next ante. The creature, one she’d never seen before, shook all over, it was so excited. It was humanoid only slightly, with a long face peeking out from around a boxy-framed skull and with four arms and three legs, one of which was off center and appeared to be more appendage than actual limb.

  It was clearly over its head but not letting go.

  The Habbit that had been at her table the night before called, laid his cards, and came up with a full house. The Outlander from Orbitary slapped his down and came up with a full house, two but his face cards were higher in value, and he had three-eyed kings while the Habbit had two-eyed queens. Clara looked at the creature. “Your down.”

  The creature shrieked. The noise, a whining and thin cry, cut through the din. It rang against her eardrums, setting them to throbbing. A sliver of pain crashed into her skull, right between her eyes, blinding her.

  The Habbit stood, one hand already going to its laser. The Outlander was on his feet too. The shriek kept going. All over the hall people were slapping their hands over their ears, and Clara did the same but she couldn’t get that scream out of her skull now that it had lodged there. Pain rolled through her, bringing queasy sickness.

  Renall appeared, flanked by security, all with drawn lasers. Renall snapped, “Lay them down.”

  The creature flung the cards, still shrieking as it did so. Clara’s eyes filled with tears that ran down her face. The sickness spread, floated up toward her teeth. The creature stopped the shriek and shouted, “It cheated in their favor!”

  It directed another burst of that sound, and right at Clara! The noise scraped past her white-knuckled fingers. Agony stole over her. Darkness swam in. Pain lanced across her entire body, and she went limp, unable to stay upright in the face of that onslaught.

  The Habbit drew, but it was too late. The security officer fired. The creature fell dead to the floor in a spill of bile and organs. The sound stopped, but the pain stayed. Clara retched and gagged. The Outlander grabbed her. She heard his voice come from around the edges of the pain. “That damned Terristal scraped her skull good.”

  Clara sagged lower in the chair. Arms went around her. She closed her eyes, but a wild careening and looping sensation swallowed her up, making the vomit rise higher. Acid burned her throat.

  Renall said, “It’s all right. I have you.’

  His arms lifted her from her seat. Her limbs would not move. All over the floor beings lifted themselves and spoke in low whispers. The dead thing stayed dead, she was glad to see.

  Renall carried her out of the hall and into the dim and quiet hallway. The pain began to abate but other things set in. His arms, so strong and long, felt so good on her body. He carried her so easily that she nestled closer, reveling in the feel of smooth muscles working and flowing beneath his tunic as he toted her up the stairs and down the hall that led to her chamber, calling for wine and a compac-press.

  In her chamber, he deposited her on the bed and leaned over her. His scent filled her nostrils. She gazed up at him, unable to move still.

  Wine and the com
pac-press arrived. Renall took it and sent the indentured one who had brought it away. His hands were tender as he lifted her from the hard pillows and held the cup to her mouth. “Slow,” he said softly.

  She took a few shallow sips. Her eyes closed again. She was sure she was about to throw up, but the wine stayed down and settled her trembling stomach too.

  The compact-press met her forehead, cooling it and shredding away the last of the pain there in her skull. Her eyes still watered and ran though. She mumbled, “What was that thing?”

  His lips flattened. “A Terestrial.”

  She managed to pry her eyes open. “What did it do to me?”

  “Skull scraped you. They can focus that voice of theirs to one person. At first, it stunned the room, but then it just went after you.”

  “I’ll say.”

  Renall leaned back over her. His cool fingers met her wan cheeks. Desire worked its way back through her yet again despite the miserable feeling left from the skull scrape.

  His eyes met hers and held. She drew a shuddering breath. Desire grew, intensifying. His mouth came down on hers, demanding and fierce. Their tongues met and danced. Clara’s fingers went to his hair. The scrape of his beard across the lower half of her face was exciting and sexy.

  His body lowered over hers; his weight braced on his forearms as the kiss grew longer and deeper still. Clara’s eyes closed and she gave in to all the sensation spiraling up and over her. He was invoking something beyond mere lust.

  His body pressed against hers. A very masculine hardness pressed between her thighs, rubbing at the material covering her body. Fresh sensation spiraled along her nerve endings as his hands wandered over her body, the heat of his fingers soaking through the dress and sending shivers across the bare patches of her flesh.

  The dress parted below those fingers of his. His fingertips stroked her skin, heating it and her passion. Her legs opened as his tongue continued to probe her mouth and drive her crazy. Her tongue responded and her hips arched below his, her body tendering an invitation that was undeniable.