Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance))

by Green, Jennette

  His words stung. Before she could speak, Joshua said, “Onred never intended to keep the peace. If Anya hadn’t skyjumped from that plane…”

  “Skyjumped!” Her uncle’s black eyes bored into her.

  Enough of the games.

  “We’re here to ask for asylum. And for your help.”

  Richert’s eyes went to Joshua. “Do you allow her to speak for you? You’re Baron. Allow a woman enough rope, and she’ll hang you with it.”

  Anya clenched her fists, sick of her uncle’s petty digs, but again Joshua spoke before she could, his voice low and level. “I’m her protector first. Her baron, second.”

  “Protector, eh?” Richert’s gaze traveled from Joshua to Anya, and then back again. Imperceptibly, and without apparent cause, his posture relaxed. “Is she as cold as her mother?” Again, that opaque black gaze flicked to Anya. “You look just like her.”

  It didn’t sound like a compliment, but she said, “Thank you.”

  Richert snorted again, and turned his full attention to Joshua. “We’ll eat breakfast. Then I’ll decide if you have terms worth considering.”

  “My family may still be alive,” Anya said. She wished she could erase the tremble of emotion from her voice. “Sources say Onred kidnapped them.”

  “You think that’s incentive for me? To save my brother’s family? You’re a damn fool.” Richert rolled for a long table adjacent to the bar, which was piled high with food. “Grab a plate.”

  Anya’s arm still hurt, but she decided to wait until after the talks to discuss medical care. An alliance came first; her comfort and well-being, a distant second.

  A young woman in a black uniform, whom Richert called “Lisa,” appeared and deftly piled food on a plate for the baron. She brought him a steaming hot drink as well. “Leave us,” he ordered. As soon she settled the napkin on his lap, she quickly obeyed.

  The eggs, bacon, and crisp, buttered toast made Anya’s mouth water. After three days of dried rations, the food smelled like heaven. When Richert stabbed into an egg, Anya crunched off a salty corner of bacon and gave a soft sigh of ecstasy. Across the table, Joshua offered a faint smile.

  Richert seemed disinclined to speak. He ate like a starving man at his last meal. Again, Anya wondered about his wasted body. Although he had clearly lost a lot of weight, he ate like the proverbial horse. She didn’t think he would respond positively to inquiries about his health, however, so she remained silent.

  The food rapidly disappeared. Joshua went back for seconds, and brought Anya a cheese pastry; her favorite. The thoughtful gesture reminded her of the Joshua she had known for so long, her stalwart—if unyielding—friend and protector.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Richert dashed the napkin across his mouth and slammed it onto the table. “Let’s have it. What do you want?”

  “I want our territories to ally against Onred,” Joshua evenly replied. “Together, we can defeat him. Afterward, we’ll split his land and live in peace.”

  Richert coughed out a hoarse cackle. “Not good enough, son. Without me, you’ve got nothing. Give me something I want.”

  “You can take two-thirds of Onred’s territory.”

  “Not enough.”

  Anya’s half-baked plan to try to charm this ornery man had disappeared the moment she had met him. Curtly, she demanded, “What is enough? All of Donetsk Territory? Our lives? The lives of my whole family? Would that be enough to satisfy you?”

  “Anya.”

  Temper flushed Richert’s weathered cheeks. “Let her speak. She’s a fool, just like her mother.”

  “My mother is dead,” Anya returned. “So is my father. You can’t punish them any longer. And look at you. You’ve turned into a bitter old man. How long will you wage war against us? How much death is enough to salve your injured pride?”

  Richert’s fist hit the table. His face glowed a bilious purple. “This is not about pride, stupid girl!”

  “Then what is it about? Greed? Hatred? Is that what’s eaten up your whole heart? And your body?”

  Puffs of air pulsed his papery cheeks. “No, you insolent girl. It’s about justice.”

  “Justice? Thousands of men dying is justice? Justice for what? My mother marrying the man she loved?”

  “She loved me, damn it! Jason stole her from me!”

  Was the man insane? Delusional? Maybe, after all of these years, he had managed to rewrite history in his mind. More quietly, she said, “No. My mother loved my father. It’s the only reason she’d leave Aksu—her home.”

  “No.” A hoarse sound huffed from his throat. “She left because she was weak. She couldn’t face the scandal.”

  The young woman appeared again, this time with an oxygen mask. Over the top of it, Richert glared at Anya.

  Anya stared back. “What scandal?”

  “Forget it.” Her uncle closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Moments later, he ripped off the mask and ordered Lisa to leave. She frowned at Anya before exiting.

  Richert turned to Joshua, ignoring Anya now. “You’re forgetting Cadmus. He’s got ties to western Mongolia. If Altai is split up, Mongolia would be on our backs faster than black flies in a plague.”

  Joshua spoke, his voice calm. “What terms do you want, Baron? You’ll have to fight Onred sooner or later. If he defeats our territory, he’ll come after yours next. Onred wants our greenhouses now, but he’ll want your petroleum next. With our military power, he could defeat you. Choose. Fight with us now, or alone later.”

  The Baron of Tarim remained silent for a long time, staring into space. At last, he said harshly, “We’ll unite. But under my terms.”

  Joshua glanced at Anya. The subtle stiffness in his straight shoulders indicated tension. “I’m listening.”

  “I get all of Onred’s territory. No negotiations on that point.”

  Joshua’s eyes narrowed. “Agreed. In addition, you agree to a permanent peace with us. Your military never enters our territory again.”

  “Done.” The old man’s lips curved up in a satisfied smile. “But you’re wrong about one thing, Van Heisman. Onred doesn’t want your greenhouses.”

  Something flickered in Joshua’s gaze. He knew what Richert was talking about.

  Anya frowned. “What else could he want? We have nothing but open land.”

  “He probably wants that, too.” Richert chuckled, and Anya wondered what the wily old man was thinking. Her uncle, however, did not elaborate, and instead told Joshua, “Your forces are scattered. Unite them. Contact me when it’s done, and we’ll plan an attack strategy.”

  “We’ll plan the attack now,” Joshua countered. “It’ll be a two pronged assault. The first phase will be tonight, and Donetski air corps from Omsk, Zyra, Irgiz will strike fast and hard.”

  “A focused attack, eh? A thermal?”

  “No. Assassination.”

  Richert raised a thick eyebrow. “How many levels?”

  “Top three, to keep then scrambling. Onred, for obvious reasons. And both Yegor and Belar are dangerous, sadistic strategists. We’ve got a better chance to win this war if they’re dead.”

  Richert nodded. “I like it. What about the extraction?”

  “The same team will extract. Tomorrow night, our combined forces will attack.”

  It surprised Anya that Richert had brought up the matter of her family’s extraction. At the same time, Joshua’s cold-blooded discussion of assassination disturbed her.

  Richert said, “I’ll give you twenty-four hours. Then my forces attack, even if your team is still at risk.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Starting now,” the baron added.

  “Starting at dusk.”

  The old man’s gaze bored into Joshua’s. A silent battle of wills ensued. The old man’s fire, drive, and even a bit of contempt battled Joshua’s unwavering stare.

  With an abrupt nod, Richert pushed back from the table. “Tomorrow at dusk.”

  “Thank you, Baro
n.” Joshua offered his hand. “We will defeat Onred.”

  Richert shook it, briefly. His black eyes glittered, and glanced from Joshua to Anya. “I have no doubt.” The wheelchair swirled left.

  “Before you go,” Joshua said, “Anya requires medical care.”

  The old territory baron rolled away. “I’ll send Lisa.”

  When he had gone, Anya laid down her fork. “That went surprisingly well.”

  One brow flicked up. “So far. I still need to meet with him to hammer out the details of tomorrow night’s attack.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “No.” Bluntly. “But we both want Onred dead. In the meantime, we’ll be alert to a surprise attack from Richert.”

  “When would Richert strike us?”

  “When it’s clear Onred is defeated.”

  “Will you really order Onred’s assassination?”

  “Yes.” Joshua must have seen something in her expression that concerned him, for he said more gently, “Why?”

  “I hate Onred, of course. But planning his death…it seems like murder.”

  “He deserves to die.”

  “I know. It’s just so…cold-blooded. Like when you went behind that rock and killed that pilot. You didn’t have to kill him, Joshua.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Why did you?” This newly realized, merciless side of him scared her. It made her wonder again, as when he’d sold her to Onred, how well she knew him.

  Joshua’s warm hand curled around her fist. It made her feel secure, although her heart beat faster at his touch. “He was moving. In a minute he’d have reached for his weapon or contacted Onred. With Onred alerted, we’d never have escaped to Tarim. I had no choice.” He paused. Then, with apparent reluctance, he continued, “Even if he hadn’t been coming around, I couldn’t let him live. As a soldier, I learned one important lesson. The only safe enemy is a dead one.”

  “But ...”

  His hand tightened. “Listen to me,” he said quietly. “The first day I joined the military I was twelve. I lied about my age so they’d accept me. My community had thrown me out—” he grimaced, “—because of a crime…never mind. I knew I’d die soon. I figured it would be better to die as a soldier with warm clothes on my back and food in my stomach.”

  He drew a breath, and his thoughts seemed to turn inward. “The soldiers didn’t ask many questions. They gave me a knife, clothes off a dead soldier, and ordered me to carry supplies. That first day was terrible. I’d never seen so much blood and death. I couldn’t imagine any day being worse than that one.” He paused again.

  “At dusk, we battled Richert’s men over the ridge. They retreated, leaving a few bloody comrades behind. Soldiers in my unit cheered. I remember one taking out a flask and gulping from it. His face was so exultant. He was so pumped with victory that he didn’t see the dead man move at his feet.

  “I shouted, but a laser flashed first. The soldier’s mouth opened in surprise. His flask fell, splashing out alcohol.

  “Our commander shot the enemy. Afterward, he shoved a laser into my hand and ordered me to shoot every dead soldier I saw, right in the brain.” His eyes closed. “For the next two months, I followed behind the battles. I shot every enemy soldier, dead or alive.” His eyes opened, and they appeared black. “I don’t like to kill, Anya. But in war, men kill, or they die. Onred must die, or he will continue to murder innocents. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. His rationale was brutal and merciless…but necessary. She didn’t like it, but could accept it.

  “Good.” To her shock, he tugged her fist to his firm lips and kissed the back of her fingers. Her breath caught with surprised pleasure. She didn’t move, or speak, for fear of losing the sensation of his warm breath on her skin.

  “Come.” Lisa’s sharp voice interrupted. “I’ll bring you to your rooms.”

  Joshua released her. He rose to his feet and in wordless silence they followed the short, rigid woman to the electric train.

  For a second, Anya thought she spied Richert’s wheelchair parked in a dark corner, near a potted tree, but the electric train whisked them forward before she could double-check.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Anya gazed with longing at the wide bed in the spacious, opulent room. A pale rose, silky comforter covered the mammoth bed, and the pillows looked deliciously soft. If only she could lie down for a few minutes. During the past three days, she had barely slept.

  All the same, Anya held no illusions that she would ever sleep in that bed. She didn’t want to. In fact, she would rather forego all sleep in order to rescue her family and defeat Altai Territory as swiftly as possible.

  They would have to move fast, before Onred’s forces coalesced again.

  Joshua had left a moment ago, with the quiet order that she care for her wound and refresh herself. He’d return after he had spoken to Richert and her uncle’s commander about the attack. Anya would rather have gone with him, for she was anxious to get moving on the strikes, but that particular argument seemed a ridiculous one to fight. She did need to take care of her wound. At the same time, it felt wrong to partake of the room’s luxurious amenities. How could she pamper herself while her family suffered?

  Astana was gone, and all its inhabitants dead, all because of her foolish choice to run from Onred. She had been cowardly and selfish. Why hadn’t she faced her future with courage?

  Tears welled. Anya couldn’t wait to leave Richert’s city. Her life and her death belonged in the northern territory. She was ready to die in order to avenge Astana, and to free her people from Onred’s encroaching, murderous grip. Not for one minute did she think Onred’s strike on Astana was the end. For years, he had wanted to conquer their whole territory. Unless they managed to defeat him now, he would succeed.

  But for this one moment, Joshua was right. She did need to take care of herself. Then she could fight longer and harder.

  A medical wand and five cartridges lay on the bed. She kicked off her boots. As she crossed the room, her toes sank deep into the lush, creamy soft carpet. The bedroom featured all of the newest amenities, including a micro-washer/dryer and computerized closet. After tending her wound, which hurt a little less after applying the second healing alpha mist, Anya stripped off her clothes, threw them in the washer/drier and took a long, hot shower.

  Long minutes later, dark hair combed out and a thick towel wrapped around her, she pulled her clean, dried clothes from the micro washer/dryer, and searched the room for a sewing kit. She’d need to mend her parka sleeve so she could safely go out in the cold again. And fast. Joshua wouldn’t waste much time. They’d need to contact Donetsk’s military soon and plan the attacks. Anya fully intended to be a part of the strategy sessions.

  No sewing kit anywhere.

  With a touch to a button, the closet door slid open. Beautifully flowing gowns hung from the racks. Anya rapidly slid open drawers and sighed with satisfaction when she found a case containing a small, hand-held fabric simulating machine. She should have known the baron’s rooms would carry no items so mundane as a needle and thread.

  Carrying it to the bed, she pressed the sensor against the parka material. Cool blue light and invisible sound waves permeated the coat’s specialty fabric. The digital readout said “Re1D.” She plucked the appropriate fabric cartridges from the case and inserted them into the wand. Meshed fibers, looking like a fine net, extruded from the simulator. A few passes over her parka and the fabric wound was healed. A few minutes to dry, and it would be as good as new. Anya healed the fabric on her shirt and snow wear, too.

  A knock came at the door.

  “Just a minute.” She swiftly pulled on her clothes and opened the door.

  Joshua wore a frown. A moment elapsed while he eyed her wet hair. The cool air from the hall swirled in, mingling with the rose scent from her shower, still lingering in the moisture laden air. When she gestured him in, he hesitated before entering.

  He crossed to the window, which offered
a clear view of the snow-capped Tien Shan to the north. His shoulders looked stiff.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Onred bombed Irgiz.”

  Anya gasped. “No.”

  “He knows we’re in Aksu. If I don’t surrender, Omsk is next. He’s given me twelve hours.”

  “What about Irgiz’s missile defense system?”

  “Failed, just like Astana’s.” He shoved a violent hand through his hair. “I wish I knew why!”

  Anya rapidly assimilated this information. Onred would not be satisfied with only Joshua’s surrender. If he knew she was alive—as it appeared he did, from the “we” in Joshua’s words—he would demand her surrender, too. “How does he know we’re here?”

  Tersely, he said, “I don’t know. Maybe Richert let it slip. Maybe they scanned our voices in their airbird. Good news is, Onred confirmed he has your family.”

  Anya felt relieved—and fearful. “Tell the truth, Joshua. Onred wants me, too, doesn’t he?”

  His tawny eyes met hers, and they burned like fire. “You will stay here. I’ll pretend to surrender to Onred. Meanwhile, the extraction team will rescue your family. I’ll kill Onred, if I can.”

  Completely aghast, Anya stared at him. “No. I’m going with you.”

  “You won’t. That is an order.”

  Anya’s temper flamed. “Forget you and your orders! My family’s in danger. It’s my fault people are dying. I will not sit on my hands and do nothing!”

  He turned back to the window, dismissing her protestations without bothering to reply. “I spoke to Richert and his commanders. The extraction is set for zero hundred hours tonight. It’s our game. They’ll help, if needed. I’ll surrender when Onred calls the time.”

  Anya deliberately relaxed her fists, telling herself to bide her time and get more information. “What’s the plan?”

  “After I leave here, I’ll go to a Donetski outpost and communicate with my men. Then I’ll take the enemy airbird and fly to the surrender location. Onred refuses to tell us the location yet.”

  “When do you leave here?”