The Rogue Prince

by Lindsay Buroker

  Jelena thought of Leonidas’s heart and its problems. She didn’t know the cause, but would not be surprised if it had to do with all the surgeries he had undergone in his youth.

  “So I volunteered,” Masika said. “I was determined to be . . . strong. Strong enough to take care of myself against anyone that wanted to bother me.”

  “Did someone? Bother you?” Jelena had a hard time imagining someone who was drawn to the arts caring that much about being strong without a good reason.

  “Yes. Many someones. A group of men. Students.” Her mouth twisted bitterly. “Drunken idiots, but that didn’t justify them being assholes. Criminal assholes. They were punished later and kicked out of the university—I always thought there should have been a worse punishment, but it wasn’t as if I could afford to hire a lawyer. I came from . . . Let’s just say that if there hadn’t been a scholarship, I never could have afforded school.” She lifted a shoulder in an indifferent shrug, but pain rather than indifference came through in her voice. “I tried to get over it, to move on. The logical part of my brain kept telling me that it wouldn’t happen again, that the odds were against that. But I jumped at every noise. I was scared at every interaction with strangers. I snapped at anyone who flirted with me or looked at me with what I was sure was sexual intent. I started carrying a blazer pistol in my purse, and I took classes in self-defense, but I just couldn’t get past it. I finally started thinking that if I was super strong, like a cyborg soldier, nobody would be able to hurt me, no man, not anyone. So, Stellacor.

  “They offered to do it all for free, but they wanted something in exchange. They wanted you to stay there for years, so they could watch you and keep tinkering. I wasn’t sure about that, but the modifications sounded so perfect . . . I signed up. Maybe if I’d had more time, I wouldn’t have done it, but I can be impulsive. And they said they’d train me to fight, too, and I longed to make sure nobody could hurt me again . . .” Another shrug. “So I became their guinea pig. They experimented on me, even more than they did on those animals you rescued. There were others, but they all left the program. Later, I learned that some had died instead of leaving. I’d signed a contract to stay, otherwise, I might have left, too, but I was also afraid of what might happen if I left and . . . something happened. I’m still afraid. I don’t want to die. All I ever wanted was to be able to take care of myself.” Masika opened her eyes and stared morosely at the view screen. “Though now that I’ve had some time away, some time to think about it, that seems selfish, doesn’t it? To want to care only for yourself? Especially when you’re stronger than those around you. If you’re given extra power, do you then have this duty to protect others?” She squinted at Jelena, as if she would know the answer.

  Maybe she should.

  “Some people feel the call of that duty, whether they’re stronger than others or not. I haven’t noticed that Starseers are any more likely to be humanitarians than mundane people. A flaw, perhaps.”

  “Hm.” Not sounding satisfied, Masika turned back toward the view screen, as if her answers lay out there among the stars.

  “Are you on any drugs?” Jelena asked, glancing at her hands again. “Anything we have to worry about getting for you?”

  “Just a supplement blend that provides the building blocks for Human Growth Hormone—part of their tinkering ensured I produce a lot of it. I know the blend, and I can find it. I suppose I should if I want to keep my muscles.” The wry twist to her mouth made it clear she wasn’t sure she did.

  “If you didn’t take it, would everything return to normal?”

  “No. I’ll never be normal again.” Masika studied her palm once more. This time, her fingers wavered slightly. The tremor Jelena had expected before. “They’re not as steady as they were when I was an artist. And the strength makes things hard too. I’ve unintentionally snapped brushes just picking them up.”

  “Ah, you should talk to my father about that. Maybe he’d have some advice.”

  “Your father the cyborg?” Masika raised her eyebrows, and Jelena remembered she’d mentioned Leonidas before.

  “Yes, he’s my stepfather, technically. He was in the imperial military. Apparently, they made their young cyborg soldiers practice crafts to learn how to control their new strength. He’s made my mother several needlepoint pictures for the cabin. Most are of battlefields, but he did a space scene with the Star Nomad—our ship—in it for a wedding present, and she got him to do some kittens as a gift for me once.”

  “Needlepoint isn’t quite where my interests were.”

  “Still, he may have some tips on learning gentleness.”

  Assuming he was still alive and up to seeing visitors. Jelena closed her eyes, a wave of homesickness and worry washing over her.

  She cleared her throat and looked at the sensor display again. Nothing was after them. Thank the three suns for small favors. She guided them into deep space and laid in a course for Arkadius. Most likely, they would have to deal with Stellacor when they drew close, but they had a few days to figure out how they would do that. She just hoped Regen Sciences wouldn’t show up again too.

  “I’m going to go check on Thor and Erick,” she said, standing up.

  “Jelena?” Masika asked, stopping her in the hatchway.

  Jelena was fairly certain it was the first time Masika had used her name instead of calling her thief. “Yes?”

  “They can track me.” Masika’s eyes were hooded, wary. “I’m not sure how deep it is, but there’s a tracking chip in my arm.” She tapped her sleeve near her biceps.

  Jelena nodded, not surprised. Stellacor had been uncannily good at catching up with the Snapper, so this explained that. Maybe Regen Sciences had learned the frequency too. “We’ll come up with a plan for dealing with them, and if—when—we get to Arkadius, we can find someone to remove it.”

  She stepped into the corridor, but Masika spoke again, softly.

  “Jelena?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  • • • • •

  Jelena found Thor and Erick in sickbay, Erick with his shirt off as he sprayed QuickSkin—or maybe that was an antiseptic—on scratches all over his pale abdomen. He was gangly and lean—she charitably did not use the word scrawny—despite his cheerful willingness to shovel slices of pizza into his mouth. Maybe Starseer robes had intentionally been designed to hide weaknesses of flesh and bone.

  Thor sat cross-legged on an exam table, but he didn’t appear to have gotten out any drugs or bandages. He’d removed his hood but nothing else, so Jelena did not get to gauge the weaknesses—or lack thereof—that a shirtless state might reveal. His chin was tilted toward his chest, his light brown hair flopping about his face. The soft, loose hair seemed at odds with his lean, hard features, and Jelena was surprised he didn’t favor some harsh, military buzz cut. Especially considering that hair currently had blood crusted in it. Dried blood smeared his face, too, and the gouges from the crash looked deep and painful. Would he object to some nursing? His eyes were closed at the moment.

  Erick hissed and grumbled under his breath.

  “The climbing didn’t go well?” Jelena waved to his scratches.

  “No. Scrambling up fifty feet of ships and ramps and struts while carrying pizza boxes and FizzPops is not recommended. Did I mention that a bunch of crazy people were shooting up the place while I was climbing? And that someone with a sword was the craziest of them all?”

  Jelena lifted her eyebrows toward Thor, expecting a response.

  “He’s meditating.” Erick sprayed his stomach again, then pointed at a bump. “Does that look like a bruise? Or something weirder? Like a growth?”

  “A growth? Was it there yesterday?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s a bruise.” Seeing that he was using QuickSkin, she took it from him and handed him the antiseptic. “Those scratches aren’t deep. Just clean them off, and you’ll be fine.”

&
nbsp; “Are you sure that isn’t a growth?” Erick’s spine bent impressively in his effort to get his eyes close enough to the bump for a good look.

  Jelena sighed. She’d forgotten about Erick’s hypochondriac streak.

  “Thor, do you need anything?” Her nursing instincts prompted her to reach out to touch his shoulder, but she hesitated, not wanting to disturb him. Also, it was hard not to think of how he had been out there hurling soldiers a hundred yards and cleaving heads from their bodies.

  Logically, she knew Leonidas had killed a lot of people—he’d been an elite cyborg soldier, and it had been his job—but the violence seemed more distant from him, something he’d mostly done in a past life. Aside from a few encounters with pirates that Grandpa hadn’t been able to trick into leaving the Nomad alone, Leonidas hadn’t had any reasons to go on killing sprees in recent years. With Thor . . . everything was very current, and the violence clung to him, as if he welcomed it. Maybe he did. It seemed that he could have hurled those soldiers off the ramp a few more times, events they would have survived because of their armor, but he’d strode forward to challenge them, as if he’d wanted an excuse to fight. To kill. Did he reserve his violence for his enemies, or, given the right circumstance, would he become dangerous to those standing beside him? For that matter, should she be standing beside him?

  “Have you looked up the majority shareholders or board members for Stellacor yet?” Thor asked without looking up.

  Jelena blinked and stepped back. Had he truly been meditating, or was he surfing in her thoughts again?

  “Not yet. I was making sure nobody was pursuing us.”

  “Do the research. We need knowledge to come up with a plan to get through them on Arkadius and to get them to leave you alone, especially since you’ve stolen their prize again.”

  Jelena bristled at what came out sounding like a command. She’d grown up obeying her mom and Leonidas—taking orders from superiors was part of life on a ship—but Thor was her peer, not her captain. Still, he had a point. It was silly that she hadn’t yet thought to look up any information on Stellacor. She’d been reacting rather than acting, thinking completely defensively.

  “I will,” she said. “I’ll look up Regen Sciences, too, in case they want to continue to be a problem as well. Can I wash your face? You look like a ghoul.”

  Erick looked up. “I don’t get an offer to be washed?”

  “I think you can handle washing yourself.”

  “As can I.” Thor shifted his legs to the side and started to slide off the exam table, but Erick stopped him with an outstretched hand.

  “Thorian, buddy, if a woman offers to wash you, you let her wash you. It’s a rule.”

  “Oh?”

  “Especially if it’s a pretty woman.” Erick smiled winningly at Jelena, and for a second, she thought he was flirting, but then he added, “A pretty woman with expertise in healing. Come look at this weird bump, will you? Just for a second? I’m fond of my abdomen, especially this lower right side. I don’t want any pieces to fall off.” He flung himself atop the other exam table, his legs dangling off.

  “Healing expertise?” Thor asked, watching as Jelena sighed and walked over to look at Erick’s belly.

  “Some,” she said. “A few years ago, I was certain I wanted to become a veterinarian, and I started learning how to do a few things, mostly for animals. But after I threw up when I watched an actual operation, I decided I’d stick to Starseer methods of healing. Erick, that’s a blood blister.”

  “I knew it was something weird.” He sounded triumphant, but his eyes got big and round. “Is it serious?”

  “No. Leave it alone, and it will heal. All of your owies will. Do you want me to see if the previous owner left any bandages with cartoon figures on them?”

  He squinted at her and grabbed his shirt. “I hope animals appreciate your bedside manner more than people do.”

  “Animals aren’t moonpuffs the way people are.”

  “On second thought, Thorian,” Erick said, “you should definitely not let this woman touch you.” He hopped off the exam table. “I shall conclude the bomb hunt.”

  “There aren’t any bombs,” Thor said. “We already checked.”

  “You checked, but you’re not an engineer. You may have missed something.”

  “I did not,” Thor said stiffly.

  “I’ll double-check.” Erick walked out.

  Jelena shook her head, reminded of the competitive nature of their relationship from when they’d been kids. Erick, at fourteen, should have been more mature than a ten-year-old prince, but that hadn’t ever kept him from engaging in silly arguments with Thor.

  Thor pushed himself to his feet and walked slowly and stiffly to a counter where Erick had left out bandages, sani-sponges, and numerous tubes and spray cans. Thor picked up one of the fresh sponges and bent over a mirror to clean his face. Jelena winced in sympathy, knowing the disinfectant agent washed but also stung. She wanted to hook up a scanner to make sure he didn’t need help greater than the counter offerings.

  “You’re familiar with dreysu?” he asked, cleaning his face.

  “The healing meditation? Yes, Grandpa spent some time teaching us. Erick didn’t pay much attention. He was more interested in tinkering with tools than learning about his own body.”

  “I wasn’t that interested, either, but I didn’t have the option to not pay attention.”

  Yes, how had it been for him? Growing up in places like that bunker they’d visited on Halite Moon? Surrounded by men who wanted to turn him into some great Starseer general and future emperor. Had he ever been allowed to simply be a boy? To play?

  “I’m sufficient at it,” he said, not commenting on her thoughts if he was reading them. “If you have a cabin I can use, I’ll rest there. I can heal my injuries, given time. Which I’ll have while you research your enemies.” He gave her a pointed look.

  “Are you nagging me, Thor?” she asked lightly, though she had a feeling he was trying to get rid of her. Because he didn’t want her to see him dealing with his injuries? Or just because he didn’t care for the company? “I wouldn’t have thought they’d teach you that at your intensive Starseer war leader academy.”

  “No? Dominguez is very good at it.”

  “You can take the cabin right here.” She pointed into the corridor to one of the side hatches adjacent to sickbay, then stepped out. If he wanted to be alone, she wouldn’t inflict herself on him.

  “Thank you,” he said, then met her eyes. “Using the turret gun on the ramp was inspired.”

  She paused in her retreat, warmed by the praise. “Technically, I was just trying to hit the men setting up a rocket launcher aimed at my ship. It, uhm, escaped my notice until later that there was a ramp under the men.”

  “Ah. Nonetheless, it made short work of their siege.” He nodded at her.

  Though pleased with the compliment, she said, “Unfortunately, it probably means none of us will ever be invited back to Upsilon Seven again. I’ll miss riding horses there.”

  “I will return,” he said, his voice growing cool and determined.

  “To assassinate Senator Albrecht?”

  “To avenge my parents’ deaths.”

  “By assassinating an old man?”

  His eyes narrowed. “An old man who sold out the empire because the Alliance promised him wealth and land if he did so, and oh, if he could just give a few intelligence tips about my father’s hidden bases . . . He should have died ten years ago. He’s been living on borrowed time.”

  Jelena didn’t know what to say, not in the face of his bitterness. He hadn’t been like that when they’d been kids, but he had been very sad. She supposed that could have changed to feelings of revenge once he’d learned enough to realize he actually could avenge his family. What would she do, she wondered, if she was able to find out the specific people who had bombed her apartment building and killed her father?

  Realizing the silence had grown uncomforta
ble, at least for her, Jelena said, “Well, thanks for taking a break from it all to come help us.”

  He was glaring down at the counter, lost in who knew what thoughts, and she didn’t know if he heard her.

  She took another step back into the corridor but paused, a new chilling thought coming to her.

  “Who’s on Arkadius?” she asked, remembering that one of her main reasons in seeking him out had been to make sure he didn’t plan to assassinate Dr. Horvald. It occurred to her that she was transporting Thor to Arkadius, which could facilitate his efforts to kill two more people.

  “What?” He frowned over at her.

  “You had two puzzle pieces pulled from Arkadius.”

  “You went to Halite? That’s how you found me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you bother?”

  “I told you. We—I—wanted to warn you the Alliance was after you. At the time, I didn’t know if you knew, and I imagined them sending some fearsome assassin after you.”

  His lips thinned. “They did. Before the cyborgs. I don’t know what they’ll send next.”

  “Yet you’ll keep going down your list?”

  “Until those who wronged my family are all dead, yes.”

  “Who’s on Arkadius?” Jelena asked again, some inkling of a feeling making her certain she wanted to know. Or maybe she didn’t want to know.

  “Vichet Sok, the owner and decision maker for the munitions company that conspired with the Alliance to send us malfunctioning ammunition and explosives. My brother was training with the 11th Infantry Brigade and was in the building when a shipment blew up.” His eyes grew even stormier, his mouth tense, almost anguished. “He was originally my father’s heir, the one who should have been . . . It doesn’t matter now. The other man is Chima Onwudiwe—Admiral Hawk, when he was in the military.”