The Iron Altar Series Box Set One: Books 1 to 3

by Casey Lea

  Bureau Senior Sparrow released her and she staggered before managing to stand alone again. She shook her head, settling her braids and bringing the world around her back into focus. She was deep within the quarters assigned to the BGP and surrounded by the sparse comfort of Lady Grace’s inner sanctum.

  The old geneticist clearly preferred a practical environment, with few reminders of wealth or rank. The furnishings were attractive, but subdued and only Lady Grace’s chair had the high back associated with the senior echelons of any kres department. The old leader sat slumped within its adequate, rather than lavish, support, intent upon the results of Clear’s scan.

  “I would like to make an official complaint,” the younger kres announced, in a louder voice than she intended.

  Lady Grace’s lips pursed, but she finished studying the results before looking up. Her eyes were hooded as she opened an official file and her fronds invited Clear to continue.

  “I needs-must make complaint over the security used by BGP staff in-flight. The Bureau is a guest of Leader FarFlight, but their gratitude for this hospitality is little shown when subjecting his officers to deeply invasive scans. I request an apology to the Sector Leader for this aggressive examination.”

  Clear managed to stand straighter as she finished, but her hair twisted in its plaits and she was unable to meet Lady Grace’s gaze. In contrast, the leader of the BGP seemed unconcerned. The wrinkles around her mouth twitched to show amusement and she flicked a finger to cut the official recording.

  The connect light vanished from the ship’s main console and the old lady hitched herself forward with a rustle of gray skirts. Clear braced herself again, ready for whatever the old kres wanted to keep from the record, but her tone was more exasperated than angry. “Thanks for your contribution, Data Senior. It encourages me that you can leave your comfort zone when angered for your leader, but... your clothes. Do you always wear such?”

  Clear found herself gaping at the unexpected question. She looked down at her black stretch top and leggings in surprise. They were clean, tidy and completely unremarkable. Only their purple piping marked her as a Royal Fleet officer. “It’s my uniform,” she pointed out uncertainly, and her answer brought a quick hiss from the old lady.

  “I’ve eyes, child, and brain enough to know such. I also know that you were down-shift when summoned. Why wear full uniform in your off-time? Does it serve as sleep robes too? Or did you ignore my orders to come as-is and instead waste time on changing?”

  “I… that is…” Clear floundered momentarily before realising that the strange questions were supposed to confuse her. She was under attack by a long-term survivor of the kres court and her best chance of finding out why was to stay calm. She clamped down on fear and uncertainty, then used her com to recall each question she had been asked. “I’m an officer of the Royal Fleet and I dress as such, Lady. I have yet to sleep this down-shift and yet to dress for sleep, so there was no need to change. I followed your orders in every way.” She offered a conciliatory salute and then froze again, this time holding the old lady’s gaze.

  Grace’s eyes were more hooded than ever, their lids falling until she seemed to be asleep. “Excellent,” she husked. “Your obedience is good, if somewhat belated. It is also needed. Unbraid your hair.”

  Despite her resolution not to panic, Clear’s confusion returned. “My hair, Lady?”

  The old kres’ head snapped up and her eyes flew open. Their faded gold still carried a steely resolve that silenced Clearwing. “Do you obey or not, girl? Loose your hair.”

  “But, my hair? If I get embarrassed… it has this habit-”

  “I’ve noted,” Grace interrupted dryly. “I’ve suffered much too, but trust me. I know the best look for my operatives and I expect obedience, even from my most reluctant new recruits.”

  Something very cold nestled into Clear’s gut. Something beyond panic. She stared blankly at the smugly satisfied old lady in front of her. She hardly noticed the languid movement of Grace’s seamed hand, or the quick tugs when Sparrow removed the ship’s crest from her hair in response.

  Blonde strands flew into her peripheral vision, along with Senior Sparrow, who stepped forward as he decompressed a delicate, dilmah dress. He offered the dress to Clear, who just blinked at him and made no effort to accept it. The thought of losing her uniform as well as her crest was insane, but it was that thought that finally galvanised her. “Operative?” she choked and Grace smiled.

  “Certain-sure, Sub-Operative Pinion. I’ve seconded you from the fleet to the BGP. Senior Sparrow will explain your duties and test your know-how for such-”

  “No. Wait. Wait, wait, wait.”

  Grace raised an eyebrow while Clear raised both hands, palm out, trying to push away such a future.

  “You can’t do this, Lady. You can’t. I’m in-career. An officer. Data senior. I belong with-… with the fleet. You can't just make me Bureau.”

  Grace’s cane thudded into the carpeted floor. “Be still, girl. Calm. I can't make you Bureau? Be very much sure that I can. I have declared an emergency and you should know the power my Bureau has in times of genetic risk. This is such a time. I can claim any-all I need and I claim you. You are drafted, Clearwing Pinion.”

  There was a moment of charged silence and then Clear took a deep breath. “Not,” she answered with quiet conviction. “This can’t be. There’s no gene emergency-”

  “No emergency? Do you claim I’m senile, or just lying?” Grace stopped, gasping for breath. It took her com a full minute to calm her frenzied breathing so that she could spit more words at her shaking subordinate.

  “We are damaged and running for our lives. In chase of us are mercenaries, assassins, Harvesters and t’ssaa. The Arck has ordered our end and placed at risk a breeding program of importance beyond his understanding. Nightwing and Freefall are vital to the future of all sentients. This threat to both of them is a dire danger and if you can help in any small way, with any males I nominate, you certain-sure will. Do you follow, girl? Now run off to Leader FarFlight and explain that he has need for a new data senior.”

  Clear had no more words to offer. She simply stared miserably, without protest. There was nothing she could do and no legal response she could make, not so far from a kres court. She could have challenged the declaration of emergency, but only before a royal arbiter. Without such a trial, Lady Grace’s discretion was absolute.

  Clear was scarcely aware of Sparrow’s hand on her elbow when he steered her toward the door. She stumbled back through the Bureau apartments in a daze. The trip down the link was like something from a nightmare and, by the time she managed to rouse herself, she was in the passage outside the leader’s secondary door. She had no idea how she got there.

  Sparrow leaned past her to activate the door whistle. “Best luck,” he rasped, with a touch of frond sympathy, before stepping quickly away.

  Clear had a moment of absolute panic that stole every thought and any chance of retreat. The door field in front of her melted away and she was still unable to move.

  “Enter,” Free called, but his order made no difference.

  She halted, trembling and trapped, staring at the silhouette of her leader. He was standing with his back to her, leaning over his console, and the glow from its display created a halo around him. She had one last chance to retreat, but what was the point?

  Clear finally admitted the truth. There was no escape from this moment. She had her orders and sooner or later, she would have to resign. She moved forward, past the doorway and its field sealed behind her.

  Free straightened from studying a map of Gratuity and stifled a yawn. He turned to greet his visitor with a fixed smile which instantly vanished. He rushed forward instead, to loom over Clear, but stopped just short of touching her. He hovered anxiously, while his mind radiated concern. “Clear, what’s wrong?”

  She took a quivering breath and her jaw trembled, making her words clipped and staccato. “Sah, it is with regr
et. Deep regret. I quit. Sah.” She raised a shaking com and her resignation fired straight to the cabin console.

  Free stared at her as though she was mad, and she felt the first threat of tears. There was no heat in her eyes though, no sense of wetness, because this was weeping of a different order. She could feel it gathering in her belly, great wrenching sobs that had no place in her leader’s quarters. “Excuse, Lord Freefall. I’ll be with the Bureau if you have need of me. Just, excuse.”

  Clear tried to turn away, tried to leave, but Free finally touched her. His hands closed around her upper arms with a most improper urgency. She made no effort to pull away and he gentled his grip without releasing her.

  “Clear,” he asked, looking utterly bewildered, “what the hail is this?”

  “Don’t,” she whispered, refusing to look up at him. “Please, don’t. There’s no way you can help.”

  Free’s fingers tensed again and Clear started to shake.

  “Why? Why resign? Are you sub-happy? Is this my fault?”

  “Gods,” Clear managed, “no.” Then the tears arrived, beyond com control, shaking her body so hard she could scarcely feel it. She had a vague impression of being held, of calming words, but everything was distant. Her emotions had taken control and all she could do was give them free rein. She tried to stop weeping, but, despite the incredible embarrassment of crying all over her Leader, it took time for her to calm herself. When she finally did return to her senses, her position was strangely familiar.

  Freefall was holding her and she wished that they could always be this close.

  Me too, his thought answered hers while one of his fronds brushed past.

  “Free,” Clear whispered against his chest, and his lips touched her hair.

  She briefly tried to hold to the safety of fleet etiquette, but the night’s events had stolen her restraint. Her fronds rose to wrap sinuously around both of his, and that simple contact removed the wall between them. She closed her eyes, caught by a release so intense that it felt more sharp than sweet.

  All the polite evasions and uncertainties that stood between them vanished. The information shared during their meld swept aside any doubts. Emotions flowed increasingly freely, as the normal result of fronding, and the unrivalled exchange that was part of such kres intimacy.

  Clear’s feelings were joined by his, along with thoughts and memories, all tumbled together in random sharing, but both becoming more detailed until those details destroyed their embrace. Her most recent experiences slipped from her fronds to his and he instantly snapped straight in response. He may no longer have been draped around her, but she still felt his muscles tense with fury.

  “It’s no matter,” Clear tried to convince Free, scared by the defiance he radiated in response to her memories. “The BGP has the right. They have full control over me. You know they can order such.”

  “No,” he denied, his voice shaking with anger. “No, they can’t. She can’t. She’ll regret this.”

  “Free, don’t. She outranks you in this.”

  He looked down at Clear, tight-lipped, and she sensed no compromise in him.

  “Then I’ll out think her.” However, even as he said it, she felt his doubt. Grace was a consummate manipulator and more cunning than either of them would ever be. How could they possibly beat her?

  Clear pressed hard against Free, forcing the embrace past despair and into her memory. His scent, the hard curves of his chest, the heat of his arms- which abruptly tensed to push her away. The chill of loss flowed between them, but she scarcely flinched. She could survive it now. She could survive anything after such sharing.

  However, she did jump when Free’s anger flared. “Drak her. The old gat. I can guess what she wants from me, but she could have asked, rather than scared you so.”

  “If she’d asked me, I’d have certain-sure said no.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Clear, who’s exempt from Bureau control?”

  Clearwing gulped against returning tears and gathered her thoughts. “The Arck, Council of Ten, noble Aged, married couples- oh.” Her hair tried to lift from the back of her neck, but she had no time for embarrassment and allowed herself no chance to be tempted. “No,” she stated with rediscovered calm, and a mental touch emphasised her refusal. “Certain-sure no.”

  “No?”

  “I won’t let you wed me to prevent this.”

  Free raised an eyebrow at her. “I’ve not offered. I’m sorry over this, but I can’t marry you just to stop a BGP claim.”

  “Of course not.” Clear gulped, not knowing where to look. Her hair was trying to go into orbit, despite the room’s gravity. “That was most dumb of me. Just… dumb.”

  Her embarrassment was so excruciating that she failed to notice Free reaching for her hands. He took them both in his and she started at the unexpected contact. She looked up with a sense of surprise that turned to amazement when he changed his grip. Free’s hands moved gently, until they cupped hers, with his thumbs resting in her palms. The position was a formal one and instantly recognisable to any kres.

  “Clearwing Pinion,” her Leader asked intently, “will you wed me?” She simply gaped in response and his smile wavered, but he persevered. “I love you, Clear, and when we touch, I feel our bond. So I’m asking for your hands and to found a new clan with you. Right now and here, in this time and place.”

  “But… you just said you wouldn't ask…”

  “Neither I would,” he agreed gently, “if it was just a convenience. I’ve had enough of such. But this asking isn’t due to Grace. She pushed her way into it, because she thinks me slow-as, and she may well be right. So she’s tried to force me to this, but it should be for us alone and from this moment, it is. Do you not wish to wed me?”

  Clear clutched at his fingers. “Of course I do. I want any relationship we can have. But you’re royalty and this whole crew is in exile because of me. You could be their one hope to return home, but only if you stay mate-free. I’m the last person with any right to interfere in that.”

  “No,” he disagreed, gently pressing her palms. “Even if I truly could live such a lie, my value is no longer high enough. I've directly disobeyed the Arck to help my cousin and he'll have my rank for it. Any-all, I’ve had enough of games. All their games. I’ve had enough of responsibility too. I want you too much and this once I intend to indulge myself. Marry me now, Clear, or will you still say me no?”

  Clearwing gulped away fresh tears of a very different sort. “Never-times,” she whispered. She looked up at Free and her lips curved in a shy smile. “I’d not dare disobey such an order, sah.”

  Free laughed and pulled Clear close until their faces touched. His mouth brushed against her cheek and the edge of her lips as he made the most important vow of his life. “Clearwing Pinion, I, Freefall FarFlight, do pledge myself to you, for all-time. Record it so.”

  Clear sighed softly in response and pressed closer in turn. “Freefall FarFlight, I, Clearwing Pinion, do pledge myself to you, for all-time. Seal it so.”

  “So recorded and sealed,” the console responded. “Congratulations, Lord and Lady FarFlight. Shall I announce these nuptials?” The computer waited for a response, but its master was otherwise occupied. “Lord?” it queried again, and this time Free lifted his mouth from his wife’s long enough to answer.

  “Ye, for sure. Tell the whole system.”

  “The system, Lord?” the machine wondered, but there was no further response. The console analysed its visual of the room’s two occupants and decided it was unlikely to receive an answer for some time. It obediently made an official announcement of the marriage to all shipboard computers. It hesitated nearly half a second over the rest of its order before releasing the same message as radio waves to the empty system.

  Its first announcement had already elicited dozens of responses from within the ship, but only one had the authority to punch straight past the console’s screening and broadcast into the cabin.

&nbs
p; “You’re most welcome.” Lady Grace chuckled delightedly. “Satisfaction for all, especially me. I’m thrilled I no longer need to convey the necessary. I do hope I can trust the two of you to negotiate that.” Her smug words rang around the room, but the newlyweds were far too distracted to care.

  39

  Hunted

  Wing took Darsey’s hands and spun on his heel. She threw herself into the movement and he hurled her forward. She flew through space, away from Gratuity, and landed lightly on a tongue of metal. It thrummed under her feet and she looked anxiously back to the main dock. However, the noise of her approach had gone unnoticed. The silver-green hull curving above her stayed shut and no one appeared on the dock behind Wing to investigate. She offered a relieved smile to the kres, who motioned for her to back up.

  Darsey moved further onto a silver gantry that barely emerged from the strange ship now pressed against her spine. That sliver had only been partially extended, ready to facilitate quick unloading, but it was still far distant from Gratuity’s dock. The gulf between the two had clearly been left to keep the ship secure and Darsey eyed that chasm doubtfully. The main body of the ship was fully docked and the whole vessel was within the influence of Gratuity’s gravity.

  Darsey watched anxiously while Wing bounced on his toes and studied the distance. If he misjudged his jump, he would overshoot straight into the docked ship’s thrust field. It had just reached full power and would vaporise him instantly.

  “Hey,” Darsey called over the rapidly growing engine noise, “you said you could judge throwing me, right? So now it’s your turn. Jump.”

  Wing grimaced in response, but stopped hesitating. Instead he sprinted forward to launch himself at the tiny platform. He came hurtling toward Darsey and for a moment she was sure he’d fly straight past and into the engine. However, he snapped his feet forward and instantly dropped to land lightly in front of her. His heels were off the back of the ramp, but Darsey grabbed his tunic and hauled him to safety.