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

by Casey Lea

  “Medic, here. Now. Admiral down.”

  Free tried to protest, but speech was impossible. Not me, his mind sent. See to Daxeon.

  Spense knelt beside Free and slapped a regen pad against his throat. “Who's Daxeon? The child?” he asked and Free grimaced at the unexpected contact.

  Ye.

  Spense nodded and turned to lean over the boy. He placed a regen strip gently across his brow, but there was no response. Free closed his eyes and tried to ignore the cooling that his fronds could already sense from the body. More noise made him blink his crusted eyes in an effort to see, but it was just the medics arriving. They headed straight for him, until Spense waved one over. “Help the prisoner.”

  Free let his eyes stick shut again. He lay there being tended and listening. He didn’t want to die. If he died there’d be no-one to compete with Zak. No-one to protect Karrie. She was the only girl, which made her important. The memories rose and with them panic.

  Free abruptly realized who he was and tried to pull away from the strange thoughts, but a tiny mind clutched at his. Don’t go.

  The pain eased in Free’s shredded throat, but seemed to shift to his chest. His heart clenched and he groaned. Behind his eyes he stopped pulling away and sat down instead to let his new memories cluster round. They settled close, warm and bright with all the passion of childhood. Can I stay? the small voice asked and Free sighed.

  Always, he promised.

  10

  Stowaway

  Seven Years Later – Alliance 20

  Falkyn tucked his knees up to his chest and held them tight, trying to ignore the steady tread of approaching guards. His ragged trousers tickled his forearms where they wrapped around his shins, while his outsized boots intruded into the corridor more than he liked. Being invisible was one thing, but it was hard to sneak past soldiers who were tripping over you. The young kres pushed back further into a bend of the passage and turned his feet in hard until their toes met. He settled into awkward stillness and held his breath.

  Reflections bounced from the wall around him and a hand of burnished guards appeared around the corner. The five Alliance warriors were dressed in armor and the stowaway gulped convulsively. Their boots and gauntlets shimmered with the rainbow sheen of exotic matter, which would let them strike through shields. The boy pressed himself even closer to the wall. They can't see me. They can't see me. They can't see me.

  The lead soldier pumped a fist and the patrol stamped to a halt. Drakkit. Their commander was also kres and his fronds rose to dart around his head, searching for electromagnetic radiation. Had he heard Falkyn's silent mantra?

  The leader raised his golden helm, tipping the smooth arc of its faceplate up to study the corner ahead more closely. The lighting was low, even ships as big as the Nexus tried to save power where they could and the marine bent forward to stare into the shadows. Falkyn let his mind slip into a stasis as still as his body, while his own fronds tucked tight behind his ears. The guard looked straight through him for an agonizing minute and then shrugged. The warrior slid his visor back into place and the nineteen-year-old began to relax. Too soon.

  Metal plates flashed and slid in smooth harmony when the soldier pivoted and kicked, his armored leg scything out. Falkyn threw himself sideways and the shining boot flashed past his temple to connect with the corridor wall. The noise of his fall was lost in the screech of a metal wall buckling. There was a moment of what seemed to be silence, although the ringing continued in Falkyn's ears and then the other soldiers laughed.

  The leader ignored their mockery and gestured for a search formation. Falkyn crouched again and checked his memory. Yes, that was definitely the pattern used to flush out enemies. At least his endless studies meant he could predict that.

  Falkyn dived sideways between armored feet, his eyes and fronds darting while he tracked the giants around him. He tucked his legs up, pulled in an arm and then rolled. He rose smoothly to press himself into the opposite corner and then slipped under a questing arm, jumped a kick and spun away, all in silence. He realized he was grinning and had to admit he was having fun. Even the fear of being caught was an added spice. He was sure he'd be able to talk his way out of anything truly nasty.

  The armored troop stamped around for a few seconds more, until the soldiers slapped their leader on the back and called him a paranoid mutt. Falkyn stood silently, pressed to the wall behind them, until they clattered away. He unexpectedly needed the physical support. He'd just passed an inner patrol. He was nearly there, but now, for the first time, he was anxious. He'd come all the way from the Rim, fooled every piece of security the Alliance had and proven all the training his mother had paid for, but the true challenge still lay ahead.

  Falkyn laughed softly when he realized what he wanted. He needed to talk to his mother. He wasn't supposed to contact her yet, not until he got to Nightwing, but he had to. He spent several minutes placing a com call through the security fields surrounding the spaceship. The connection was made and his heart lifted at the sight of a small room. It was painted cream and faded green and filled with an array of shiny medical equipment. Falkyn's eyes prickled at the sight of the small clinic. He hadn't expected to miss it.

  A patient lay on the central bed and a kres doctor leaned over him, the bright light shining on the gray streaking her dark hair. Falkyn's eyes stung worse than before and he took a deep breath before he risked speaking. “I made it safe, Mai.”

  Dr Harrier Plume looked up from her patient with a quick smile. “Fal. I knew you could do it. You've got the right genes. Is Wing there?”

  “Ah, no. I've not made it to him yet. The last barriers are breached though. It won't be long.”

  Harry frowned and her patient stirred within the halo of a regen field. She murmured to him and he settled again. She looked up at her son with a weary smile but he had no answering grin. He folded his arms instead and tried one, last plea. “Would you rest until we come for you? Please?”

  However, his mother was already turning back to the mutt on her examining table. Why was she always so stubborn? She impatiently brushed a wisp of striped hair back and spared him a glance. “Certain-sure, Falkyn love. When the patients stop coming, I'll rest. Now, go. Find your father.”

  11

  Reunion

  Nightwing strolled past a phalanx of guards, but the effort to look casual was huge. The warriors sprang to attention in a flashing display and he swung a fist up to his chest in response.

  “Morning, sar,” the leader said.

  “Morning, Shearwing. Lads and lady.”

  “Good morning,” and “happy morn,” the rest of the troop chorused. Wing bent his lips in what he hoped was a smile, before striding away. Behind him the strike team returned to laughing and chatting. He caught parts of their whispered conversation, something about a “stuffed wall”, a suggestion to “own up,” and a final comment from Shearwing claiming, “that's what daily reports are for”.

  Wing squared his shoulders against the conversation that excluded him and strode away. He wanted to run, but managed not to. What was wrong with him? He grimaced at such a stupid question. His family was aboard and they were planning to land on Kresynt, the home world of the ruler who had repeatedly tried to murder him. We must be drakking mad.

  “Morning, Admiral.” Wing jumped aside when an engineer hurtled from the link ahead and into the corridor. “Sorry, sar” the youngster cried, after surging past, but he was gone before Nightwing could respond.

  Wing smiled more easily at such youthful enthusiasm. He could still remember his first interstellar posting. He'd been so excited he'd ended up running everywhere. Leader Quill had called him drakking annoying. That ship seemed an age ago now.

  Wing launched himself into the weightless link and his brief smile slipped away. He hated any risk to his family and although it was nearly twenty years since the loss of his unborn son, the pain was as sharp as ever. That baby - no, he’d be a young man now - remained missing and de
spite all their efforts there was no real evidence he was still alive.

  Wing forced his thoughts to Arck Sharpeye instead, but that was little better. His uncle and would-be killer would have to accept them, because they came as ambassadors from a major trading power. However, that bustwing was in for a big surprise when he actually met the Alliance diplomats and his reaction when he saw his resurrected nephews was unpredictable. Perhaps he would have an apoplexy and drop dead. As Darsey would say, one could only hope.

  The thought of his wife made Wing grimace. Why had she insisted on coming and bringing their son? Not that she ever went anywhere without Jace, who was insisting just as stubbornly on experiencing his kres heritage, but they must all be mad. And a fine fit for each other. Wing started to chuckle and lifted his wrist to send an energy pulse from his com that surged him along the weightless link and back to his quarters. He was still smiling when he entered the foyer to his palatial suite. Kres liked to travel in comfort and Wing was no exception.

  He heard his wife's voice in the parlor and his heart lifted. He straightened his tunic and ran a hand through his dark hair, but then reached the doorway and stopped. Darsey and Jace were caught in an animated discussion, their two red heads close together, and neither his wife nor his son noticed him.

  “This is not Blossom, or Nexus or even Blizzard,” she snapped and Wing sighed at the familiar refrain. “This world is hostile and if you want to leave the ship you will do it with me or your father.”

  Wing let the usual argument flow past him and watched his family instead. His smile returned when Darsey tossed back her dark red hair and placed her fists on her hips. She was wild and lovely and how he had won her he still wasn't sure. All he knew was that somehow she was his. She tilted her head to one side, hearing Jace out and Wing licked his upper lip. It was far too long since they’d spent any time together. He wanted to be alone with her, needed it fiercely, but he must have been broadcasting more than he intended, because the argument stopped and his wife looked round.

  “Sar!” his son called with delight.

  Wing smiled and had to look up to meet the nineteen-year-old's eyes. They were shadowed by a wave of hair that fell forward, just like Wing's and that turned them an even darker shade of blue than Darsey's.

  “Jace,” Wing said warmly and an unaffected grin lit the young man's face, while the last of his anger slipped away. He nodded a greeting.

  “Sar,” he repeated more mildly. “It's good to see you.”

  “Is it?” Wing wondered, switching his gaze to his wife.

  Darsey's expression was cool, but the mental touch from her single, blue frond was sizzling. She strolled forward to meet him and slid her hands around his waist. It could be. It could be very good indeed.

  Wing bent to kiss her and every fear faded. His universe shrank to the single point where their lips met and merged. Darsey pressed herself against him, plastered close from soft breasts to the curve of her hip. She smiled against his mouth when she felt how ready he was and his arms tightened around her. Their rendezvous with Free was close, but there was still time-

  Jace cleared his throat loudly. “Get a room,” he suggested. “It's not like we're short of them.”

  Darsey instantly wriggled free from his embrace and he sighed inwardly. Later, her mind promised, but Wing felt his gut tighten with anxiety. Later they would all be on Kresynt.

  “Free has the Grace ready to rendezvous,” he informed his family. “We'll go on board and then land, while the Nexus stays cloaked in space to offer cover. I wish you'd stay with her-”

  “No,” his wife and son said together and Wing raised his hands in defeat.

  “Very well. I suggest you bring your party best. The Arck likes to be formal. He also likes to make an impression.”

  “So do I,” Darsey murmured and brushed past him on the way to their room. Wing followed hard on her heels. The moment they passed through the bedroom door he slipped a hand round her waist, then pulled her close. He ducked his head to breathe on the back of her neck and she shivered.

  “I really should pack,” Darsey protested, but she plastered herself against Wing and threw her head back to rest on his shoulder. He pressed his mouth to her throat, until a clatter of boots announced company behind them.

  “Gross,” Jace complained loudly. “I thought you two were supposed to be married.”

  Wing gave his son an exasperated look. “It's marriage, not death.”

  “Same thing.”

  “Did you wish for something?”

  “Apart from parents who are properly boring? Yeah, what do kres wear to parties anyway?”

  “They sent us an ancient doorstop called Proper Court Etiquette and Dress,” Darsey answered, sliding from Wing's embrace again. “We've been getting brochures too. The local merchants are already trying to sell to us. Let's choose some things and pick them up when we land.”

  Wing tried very hard not to curse out loud. Shopping. It wasn't what he wanted to do with Darsey. He turned away and stalked back to the main chamber. He poured himself a drink and started to pace. He stopped abruptly and swung round. He could have sworn he felt someone behind him.

  The room was very quiet. Even the voices of his wife and son seemed muted. Wing held his breath and his head tilted. Did he still hear the faint whisper of someone breathing? Someone right behind him.

  Wing started striding across the room again, but turned almost at once, backtracking into... something. Something that pulled away, making ripples in the air, rings of shadow that eddied past him. He yelled to his com and emergency lockdown pulled fiery screens of energy from the walls. The vague disturbance grew more visible. It became a shadowy figure that was trying to retreat. Away from the blazing exit and toward the bed chambers. Toward his family.

  “Patri?” Jace called and two figures appeared in the nearest doorway. They must have felt his fear spike. Darsey leapt sideways to place herself in front of Jace, who jumped aside just as fast to stand beside her. The shadow closed on them and Wing fired.

  His arm flew up when the ship enhanced blast ripped from it, but the invisible attacker turned into a ragged intruder somersaulting down the corridor and past the bedroom door. Darsey and Jace both jumped back and Wing sprinted to join them. They stood braced together and stared at the steaming figure lying at the far end of the hall.

  Wing's com gave a shrill hum, showing it was restored to full power. It made his arm vibrate, but he held it steady to advance again. His family followed and he stopped. “Stay,” he said, his voice low and soft, but his frond crackled with urgency. Jace paused and Darsey gripped the back of his shirt to pull him away.

  Wing stalked forward again, his arm steadily dipping lower to keep targeting the silent shape on the floor. The sound of booted feet behind him was momentarily distracting, but then Shearwing and his troop crowded into the corridor.

  "We've got this, sar," the troop leader snapped and Wing let his arm fall. There was still no movement from the intruder. His com field had clearly been no match for Wing's shot.

  Shearwing and his Senior advanced, while the other three guards spread out around the IceFlights. Wing backed up to shield his family, but felt Darsey peering around one shoulder and Jace looking over the other. Wing risked glancing away from the intruder to check on them. Jace was fidgeting and held back only by his mother's fingers curled tight in his shoulder. His eyes were fixed on the crumpled form at the end of the passage. "Who is that? How did he get in?"

  "My fault," Shearwing admitted gruffly. He prodded the body with a toe, but there was no response. He went down on one knee beside it, while his Senior stood over him, with her weapon held ready. "Got a mind touch, but then let it pass. Let this gat pass."

  Shearwing punched the pile of rags this time and there was still no response. "Seems you got him, Admiral." The Strike Leader grabbed the victim's patchwork tunic and flipped him over. His head flopped into the stronger light from the bedroom and Wing flinched. The intruder
's skin was smooth gold, pale and unlined. He was young, very young.

  Darsey pushed forward with a gasp. "It's a boy." Wing grabbed for her, but she was already gone. She ran down the passage and dropped to her knees beside the body. Drak. There could be explosives, or a trap of some kind.

  Shearwing swept Darsey off her feet, lifting her, before turning to deposit her in Wing's arms. The soldier dared to frown at his admiral’s wife. "If I might be allowed to finish first, my Lady."

  Darsey squirmed and Wing had to use com strength to hold her. "Darse, please. Let our guards clear the scene."

  "Is he dead?"

  They both looked to Shearwing, who was still scanning the slack form. The smell of crisped clothes and flesh made Wing gag, but the sight of his victim was worse. He was kres all right and very young. So young a thought occurred to him that made his stomach heave.

  Darsey's concern shifted at once. "Are you okay?"

  "Ye. What of him? The boy. Is he alive?"

  Shearwing grunted at that. "Alive enough. He'll need some healing before interrogation-"

  "No. No interrogation."

  All of the troop clanked as they shifted to face Wing. Senior Mashishanga flicked up her helm to show an unusually furrowed brow. "No, sar?"

  "Is he dangerous?" Wing asked calmly and she snorted.

  "He's still breathing, so yeah."

  "But does he have any hidden explosives? Any weapons at all?"

  They all looked to Shearwing, who had just finished his scans. "Nothing, Admiral."

  Darsey squirmed again and Wing dropped her onto her feet. She placed her hands on her hips to stare down the soldiers. "No weapons means this wasn't an attack. Now get some regen on that poor boy before I do it."