by Cathryn Cade
Fine, if he could walk away, so could she. But first, she had to know where to go.
She began her campaign for independence by convening her own troops for support. She invited Ringi and Dano to Stark’s tont for coffee.
Then, because she was as nervous as the mawwr around the catamounts, and it felt natural to pour her nerves into a physical task, she spent time setting up the coffee service with supplies from the new shipment of stores—creamer, crispies and even chocolate wafers arranged on a hovertray covered with a silk cloth.
She sampled one, but the treat was dry as ashes in her mouth. She swallowed it with a drink of hot coffee, and then set her cup down to face her two new friends.
“I’ve been a victim,” she announced to both of them. “But I’m done with that. As of now, today. Will you help me?”
Two pairs of brows flew up. “Uh, how?” Ringi asked.
“First,” Zaë said, bringing out the laser weapon, “I need to learn to fire this. I think I know, but I want to be safe.”
She looked up, and found the two leaning away from her, faces set in alarm. Dano lifted one hand, palm out. “Careful with that, girlfriend. Um, just put it down, slowly.”
Zaë bit back a smile. “I told you, I think I know how to use it. I need you to show me if I’m right, or not.”
She lifted it again, and aimed it at the galley, then sighed with exasperation as the two ducked below the edge of the divan. “Oh, come out, will you? I’m not going to fire.”
“We’d better do as she asks,” Ringi said, her voice muffled behind the divan. “Before someone gets lasered.”
Dano waved his hand above the divan. “All right, all right. But if you hurt me, Orson will make you sorry.”
“I believe you,” Zaë said sincerely.
Dano emerged, and watched closely as she showed him she knew how to squeeze and stroke her grip up the handle of the sleek weapon to remove the safety control. Then she mimed squeezing again to fire, with her fingers safely away from the trigger.
“You got it,” he said quickly. “Safety back on, please.”
Ringi breathed a sigh of relief when Zaë placed the weapon back in Stark’s cabinet. “Glad that’s over. None of the rest of this has to do with weapons, does it?”
“You’re certainly squeamish for the wife of a pirate warrior,” Zaë said, and then grinned at her friend’s indignant scowl. She felt lighter, somehow, knowing that she wasn’t entirely defenseless. She could use a weapon and she knew at least one self-defense move.
“Next,” she said to Dano, giving him what she hoped was an ingratiating smile, “I’d like to practice more fighting moves.”
He eyed her, and nodded. “Okay. I guess you can’t hurt me.”
Five minutes later, he lay on the floor, staring up at her as he struggled for breath. “I take it back,” he groaned. “You can hurt me.”
Zaë hovered over him, shame and triumph warring inside her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You can flip me next time.”
He glared at her as he pushed up off the floor. “Oh, believe me, I intend to.”
Twenty minutes later, both of them lay gasping side by side on the floor, while Ringi looked down at them, shaking her head. “Well, Zaë, you sure know some moves. And Dano, you too. I’d say that was a draw.”
“Where’d you learn that flip thing?” Dano asked Zaë, rubbing his hip. “I think that’s a Serpentian fighting move.”
“I don’t know,” she said uneasily. “That’s the next stage of this—how you’re going to help me, I mean. I need to know—and I need to know now—who I am.”
“Uh-oh,” he muttered.
Ringi gave her a wise look. “Because of the Storm, yes?”
Zaë blushed. “Yes, partly. Because—what if there’s someone else?”
Ringi gave her an odd look, her brows together, mouth scrunched to one side. “Uh, Zaë. There may or may not be someone else for you. But for Stark, there are lots of someone elses. He’s sampled every attractive, unattached woman in this camp, honey, and plenty more. He’s never shown any sign that’s gonna change.”
Dano frowned and Ringi flung out her hands. “What? It’s true. I don’t want Zaë here to get any ideas just because the man can charm the panties off any female alive.”
Zaë rubbed her throat, where the collar suddenly felt too tight. Ringi was telling the truth. She’d witnessed Stark’s sexual activity in this very room.
“Maybe I want to sample him,” she said, her jaw set. “And—and then move on. I never said anything about giving myself exclusively to him.”
“My, you are revealing unexpected depths,” Dano said, widening his eyes at her. “First the fighting moves, and now sexual emancipation. I’m all for it.”
Ringi sighed. “Right. Not sure I want to be around when you tell Stark you’re ready to move on. Because he is different with you. That collar, for one. Not only is it gorgeous and probably worth enough to fund a new cruiser, but I witnessed the effects on you.”
“What?” Dano demanded, leaning in. He stuffed a crispie in his mouth and crunched.
Ringi giggled. “He reeled her in like a cata. For sex play, if I’m not mistaken.”
Zaë’s face heated so swiftly she felt as if her skin would combust.She looked away. “Um, no. You’re not mistaken. But he says he won’t, um, have me until he knows for certain I’m not with another man. And I want to have sex, so I need to know.”
Dano’s gaze melted. “Aw, that is so hot. Girl, we’ve got to get you straightened out, no time to waste.”
Zaë nodded. Because on top of all of this, there’d been Joran’s odd behavior this morning, his refusal to look at her. Perhaps he didn’t want her anymore. And in that case, she would be on her own soon. Not that he would desert her, he wasn’t that kind of man, but she couldn’t stand to be around him a day longer and not be with him.
She either had to have him, or get away. And to do that, she needed to know who she was and where she was going.
“Also,” she said, “Stark says there is a battle coming, some kind of big confrontation. I want to be useful. You all have your roles, but I am as useless as a—a mawwr.” Which wasn’t really fair to mawwrs, because hers had been a comfort and reassurance in her darkest moments here.
Ringi was still unconvinced. “But doesn’t it hurt when you try to remember? I don’t know that we should mess around with things we don’t understand. What drugs did they give you? What exactly are they doing inside your brain? Not to scare you, but what if you trip something worse by fighting the effects?”
Zaë and Dano stared at her. Ringi held up her hands. “Well, we don’t know. If they conceived of something this evil, who’s to say there’s not some failsafe in place. They do not want their victims remembering.”
“I’m willing to risk it,” Zaë said, even though Ringi’s warnings sent fear racing through her. It was a good thing she was seated now, because her legs were weak.
“But it hurts you,” Ringi repeated. “I get headaches sometimes. Yours are worse—migraine status.”
This was true. Zaë pulled forth another smaller tray, this one with several packets of gesics. “I have these from Joran’s lav. If it gets too bad, one of you can give me a gesic—or two.”
“I’ll do it,” Dano said. “I’ll help you, Zaë. Nobody should be helpless. You escaped slavery, now we’ve got to help you get out of here.” He touched her forehead with warm fingers.
Ringi finally nodded. “All right, but under one condition. If Dano or I think you’ve gone too far, I’m linking Riley. We don’t want to mess up your mind.”
“My mind is messed up,” Zaë reminded her quietly. “I’ve lost me. I want my self back. I have a right to that. What if you couldn’t remember your own family? Or if they’re out there somewhere worrying about you?”
“All right, all right. That’s true.” Ringi shuddered. “I can’t imagine not knowing Pede or Elliane. So, what do we do?”
After a shor
t discussion, Zaë sat on the divan, with her two friends arrayed on either side of her. Dano held the gesics, while Ringi held Zaë’s hand. Zaë took a deep breath, and then closed her eyes.
“Yesterday, I remembered a man,” she said, thinking out loud. “He was laughing about a primitive tribe. One we were visiting.” And she’d been...irritated with him.
She cast her mind back over the short sequence she could recall, and then searched for more.
***
From the darkness, the man’s voice emerged once again, much lighter than Stark’s, and accented with clipped tones, as if he spoke from the roof of his mouth.
‘You should come with me,” he urged. His hand was hot and sweaty on hers, holding it too tightly. ‘You know I want to marry you. Ask your parents.’
She tugged at her hand, shaking her head, feeling a familiar reluctance, even impatience. ‘It won’t do any good. They want me to finish my studies before I marry. And anyway, I’m not certain, either. Can’t we just go on being friends?’
‘Friends? I don’t want to be just friends with you.’ He gave her a look of frustration, then looked down, lashes veiling his eyes. ‘I’m not good enough for you, am I?’
‘Of course you’re good enough. Why wouldn’t you be?’
His voice turned bitter. ‘Because my name isn’t on any great expeditions like this one—yet. Why can’t you see what we could have? With your family’s name and my talent, I—we could be the best, more famous even than your parents.’
Parents? The edges of the black pulsed with dark light, and agony shot through her head, darting down her spine in jagged lances.
“No! I will see.” Gritting her teeth, Zaë pressed her palms to her temples and forged on, peering into the darkness again.
She stood in the front of a huge, elegant room. A chamber of state, with a bank of seats at the front, and a platform below where she stood, the woman and a man at her side. No, she was at their side. They were the important ones here, bowing to the beings in the seats above, pleased and proud, while she smiled and stood silent and graceful, because that was her role. To be seen and not heard.
Now, she was seated, her head tipped to show she was listening attentively as the man and woman stood and spoke to the council and the holocams floating around them, the crowd assembled in the banks of seats filling the rest of the huge room.
‘...with great pride and thankfulness that my wife and I set out,’ the man was saying, his blue eyes sparkling, his handsome face smiling. ‘...do our best to carry the Alliance’ offer of peace and friendship to the peoples we encounter...learn more about them so the Alliance may grow and prosper in peace and charity....’
Applause, then the woman spoke.
‘...privilege and pleasure to carry on our work to ... our galaxy. My thanks to the Council for continuing ... take with us your good wishes, and hope to bring them back to you multiplied.’
The man held out his arm, indicating Zaë—only she wasn’t Zaë, she was a prim, ladylike creature constrained in a tight suit, her hair bound up, collar buttoned high. She gave a little wave to the crowd, doing her best to maintain her serene smile when what she really wanted to do was turn and run out of the huge room, away from the cynosure of avid eyes now trained on her, the daughter of these renowned people.
‘And on this journey, we are pleased to have Dr. David Woodby with us, as well as our daughter.’
With no escape, she stepped forward to face the crowds and the cameras.
***
Joran’s com chimed with a link, so he raised a hand as Ilya and Pede followed them out.
“Logan,” he said, greeting his brother. “What’s up?”
Logan nodded, and then lifted his hand to one side. “You recognize her?”
Joran stared at the holovid glowing serenely over Logan’s desk. A young woman gazed back at him. Her face shaded by a broad brimmed hat, she wore a suit of the same pale beige, buttoned to her chin. Under muted cosmetics, her face was solemn, her gaze shy. What he could see of her hair was dark blonde. Her face was a tender oval, her mouth soft and full. Her eyes were the blue of Frontieran skies.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “That’s Zaë. You found her.” Although this buttoned up, prim creature wasn’t the Zaë he knew.
“Bronc did. Would you like to know who she is?”
No. He wanted to break this link, wanted to refuse to listen. What if she wasn’t free? Or someone who would want to be with him? He wanted her to be able to take back her life, but at the same time he didn’t, because it might very well not include him.
His gaze drawn back to her with helpless fascination, Joran braced himself. “Tell me.”
“Lady Elliane Braveling,” Logan said. “Twenty-five years old. Daughter of Sir Samuel and Lady Glora Braveling, both knighted as Exemplars for their work as Anthro-Diplomats throughout the galaxy. Working to understand primitive and outlying peoples and bring them cooperatively into the Alliance.”
Great God beyond. He’d known she was raised as a lady, but not as a Lady. An empty hollow yawned in Joran’s gut. His bunny was no little immi, and sure as hell no servant girl. She wasn’t royalty, but she was as close as a citizen of the new Alliance could get. The daughter of celebrated heroes who worked for peace and unity.
Hells, no wonder she could listen to talk about pirates, IGSF commanders and the like and make surprisingly astute observations on trustworthiness or the lack thereof. She’d spent her life at her parents’ knees, learning from them. No doubt being trained to follow in their path. Hells, she probably even knew that singer, Chaz Jaguari.
“The Bravelings kept their daughter close,” Logan went on. “There was an older brother who died years ago—some illness contracted on a backward planet where modern immunizations didn’t even cover the local hazards, so they’re very protective of Elliane.
“They were traveling on Tardos with her and an apprentice, a Dr. Woodby,” Logan went on. “Just about to leave after a successful stay. She was headed back to their home on Earth II to attend a seminar at one of the universities; they were headed off to a several-planet voyage, when Lady Elliane disappeared on the eve of their departure. Went out to the garden to retrieve a gift from the local tribeswomen and vanished into thin air.”
“Kidnapped,” Joran said.
“Yes. Tardosian surveillance is thin, but the locals did report a small craft landing and taking off from the area. The kidnappers must have rendezvoused with a waiting ship, and taken her from there.”
“For ransom?” Joran shook his head. “No, wait. I remember when this happened. Shit, it was only a lunar month ago. The parents were frantic; let it be known they’d pay a lot to get her back. But no ransom demands ever came in.”
“Yes, which raises the question of why she was taken. She’s certainly attractive,” Logan said. “But if all they wanted was a prostitute to sell, why take the risk of grabbing a woman so well-known throughout the galaxy? Why not some of the attractive local women?”
Joran gave him a look. “On Tardos? Because, unless you’re into blue leather for skin, there aren’t any attractive women.”
He shoved his hands through his hair. “Hells. Need to tell her.”
Logan waited a moment before suggesting gently, “Also her parents, Joran.”
Joran growled in his chest. “Right. So they can cruise in and take her home.”
“As to that,” Logan began. “Someone else has been searching for her. Woodby.”
Joran’s neck swelled. “The assistant?”
Logan nodded. “He claims they are affianced.”
“Fuck me.” Joran looked away from the holovid. She was claimed, then. He’d known all along his Zaë was just an illusion, had to be. No woman could be that lovely, that sweet and not be spoken for.
She wasn’t actually married though. And she was here, in his camp, in his bed every night. Determination coalesced in him, sudden and hot. What kind of a name was Woodby, anyway? Which was feeble, but really,
what kind ofgrown man stayed an assistant? Probably fetched bottles of water and hankies for the august diplomats.
Fuck Woodby, and fuck Lady Elliane’s former life.
He pictured again her laughter and excitement as she—his Zaë— rode the catamount pony, how her hair had streamed out behind her and how his cock had hardened just watching her ride the lithe beast. Wanting her riding him that way while he was buried deep inside her.
He’d tell her, all right. Then he’d let her choose. He’d just make sure she chose him, for now at least. What good was being a pirate if he didn’t take what he wanted?
Chapter 25
The pain took her, this time so harshly Zaë rocked forward, moaning. A gesic pac landed on the back of her neck, cool and soothing. “Here, honey,” Dano soothed. “Hold still now. You’re okay, we’ve got you.”
Ringi’s hand tightened, holding the pac in place. “Take it easy, girl. Don’t try too hard.”
Their voices washed over her along with the soothing buzz from the gesic. She shook her head, ignoring the sweat springing out on her skin.
She opened her eyes and peered at them. “I can do this,” she said. “I can.”
“Stark will not be happy, if he sees you like this.” Dano looked worried. “You’re shaking and sweating like you’re running for your life.”
She was running for her life—running to catch it and hold on, get it back. But finally having begun, it was as exhilarating as it was difficult. She felt as if her body and mind were open to the galaxy, ready to suck in energy and then burst into bloom.
“I’m all right,” she insisted. “I’ll rest for a moment, and then begin again.”
“Zaë!” The tont hatch opened, and Stark stepped in. He took in the three of them, and scowled. “What the hells is going on? Bunny, you all right?”
She stared at him. “Joran. Yes, I’m fine. I’m better than fine.”
He strode toward her, and Dano and Ringi moved back. Stark dropped to one knee before the divan, his hands framing her face. “What is it? Tell me.”