Shadows of Mallachrom, Book 1: Blue Fire

by Michelle Levigne

  "You sick, really, Dada?" The boy frowned and bounced experimentally on Petroc's lap. They had explained to the boy that his father had been hurt and his legs wouldn't work for a little while.

  "Yeah, I'm really sick. Cianna said you had to help take care of me, remember?"

  "I 'member." Danil cocked his head to one side, stuck his pinkie in his mouth to help him think, and chewed slowly on it. Petroc grinned, despite the ache. "You always take care of me, before."

  "That's what Dadas are for."

  "Anni says she takes care of me now."

  "She did, huh?" Petroc had vague memories of Rhianni holding him, interspersed with bad dreams; Rhianni with tears on her face, bending over him, with a cool touch that soothed away the fire streaming through his veins. He liked Rhianni taking care of him, too.

  After that abrupt mental communication, Petroc wondered now about incidents where he had hallucinated Rhianni's presence in his mind. Especially in his prison cell, when he thought Rhianni held his hands and wrapped herself around him. What if she had been reaching out with her spirit and mind to comfort him, and didn't realize what she did?

  Whatever the reason, they had a strong bond. If something happened to him, Rhianni would suffer it with him. If he died, she would die.

  Why wait and deny his feelings, his hunger for her, if he could no longer protect her through denying himself? Petroc had planned to claim Rhianni as his own tonight. They might have only managed kisses, but he knew the right motivation would purge his system and bring his body back to full health. Making love to Rhianni could bring a man back from the edge of death.

  But now she was gone, back to Core. He had a good idea what she planned to do, and he agreed with her. It had to be done. It was time to face the enemy and decapitate the vicious hydra and all its tentacles of illegal activity.

  He had never planned on her doing it without him.

  "Dada?" Danil chewed harder on his pinkie.

  "Hmm?"

  "Anni takes care of me. And I take care of you."

  "That's right."

  "Who takes care of Anni?"

  "I guess that leaves me, huh?" Petroc took a deep breath. "Danil, you really like Rhianni?" There were a few things he could take care of right now, even if he couldn't get off the couch.

  "Lots."

  "You want her to come live with us?"

  "She will?" The boy's wide, wet grin and bright eyes were more than answer enough.

  "If I marry her, she will. That'd make her your Mama. Is that all right?"

  Danil thought that over for a few seconds, chewing so vigorously on his pinkie, drool trickled down his chin and his hand. "Not like Mama Reesa?" he asked with a little frown.

  "No. Mama Reesa died because she missed your Dada Dilan. She loves you very much, but she knew I'd be here to take care of you. If Rhianni's your Mama, she'll stay here with us."

  "Good." Danil bounced for emphasis. "When?"

  "Oh, when all the bad people are caught and punished. We can build a house out in the forest so all the Shadows can come play with you." Petroc heard a chuckle and looked up to see Cianna watching from the doorway. She smiled and shook her head. How much had she heard? He took a deep breath and continued. "If I marry Rhianni, we'll have babies, so you'll have brothers and sisters. Is that all right?"

  "Lots of brothers and sisters?" Danil whooped and flung his arms tight around Petroc's neck.

  "Better clear that with Rhianni, first," Cianna muttered, and left the room.

  Petroc wrapped his arms tight around his son. He said a silent of prayer of gratitude that he could do that, at least.

  "Grandmother? You sent for me?" Rhianni paused on the threshold of Mistress Shoreel's office in The Hall.

  Had she walked into a trap? The request to come consult with her grandmother, the admission that her help was needed for the good of Mallachrom, was exactly the opening Rhianni needed. Yet the request to check out the Black Pit made her wonder. Had this opportunity come too easily, too quickly? Had the enemy known her mission all along?

  "Rhianni, dear, our world..." Mistress Shoreel trailed off as she finally looked at Rhianni. "My dear, that uniform makes everything so...official. So serious." Her lips twitched slightly, visibly fighting a smile.

  "So I've heard." Rhianni brushed at her captain's insignia with her fingertips, then pretended to pick a piece of lint off the glossy black pleats of her tunic.

  The straight lines made her look taller, shoulders broader. The silver piping on the outside seams of her pants, the silver buckles and pins gleamed softly, adding glamour to the severity of the all-black tunic, pants, and peaked cap.

  "We need your help, dear, and I am so proud the salvation of Mallachrom will come from my own family." She stood and held out her hands to Rhianni. "Forgive me. You startled me so, showing up dressed exactly as I had hoped." Mistress Shoreel sighed. "Do you understand the grave situation we're in?"

  "I've been helping Magistrate Fray and keeping up on the news bands. The commander said my Rover experience could help. So here I am."

  Mistress Shoreel nodded slowly, her eyes hooded. Rhianni reminded herself of all the data uncovered, pinpointing her grandmother as a vital member of the group that had been stripping Mallachrom of its resources for years, inculcating a false fear of Taken to cover their own illegal activities. It was her grandmother's fault that so many people had suffered. It was only fair that she, Rhianni, use her grandmother's greed and scheming to bring it all to an end.

  "Do you have any idea of the power invested in a Rover captain, Grandmother?" Rhianni went on. "I can call down help in months, using coded hyper-relays, where it would take years for the Council. I have authority the planetary government can only dream of. I can stand before the Galactic Council as a witness and petitioner, and go where I please. Whatever Mallachrom needs, I can get."

  "That is exactly what we hoped," the woman murmured. Satisfaction gleamed in her eyes. "With your help, my dear, we will save Mallachrom without the Galactic Council ever learning that we were in any difficulty. There is an emergency meeting of the Council soon. Will you speak with us?" Her smile broadened when Rhianni nodded. "I will be right back." Mistress Shoreel gestured for her to take one of the plush chairs in her office, opposite her desk.

  Rhianni waited until her grandmother's footsteps faded down the hall. Her knees buckled a little as she sank into the chair. A weak, trembling grin curved her lips.

  Chapter 17

  "She's in," Petroc said, speaking softly to avoid waking Danil. His son cuddled up against him, having refused to leave his side.

  "In?" Cae raised his head from the comm-set where he had been passing last-minute messages to the Star Sword before the Rover ship headed off with its load of security files for CQ.

  "The Council thinks they're going to use her, but Rhianni's going to tie them with their own bootlaces."

  "Um, Roc, what are you talking about?" Gan asked. He exchanged glances with Cianna and Cae.

  "You think I'm hallucinating?" Petroc shook his head. A chuckle caught in his chest, threatening to turn into a cough. "Rhianni was born a Taken. She broke through to me, touched my mind, when I was in detention. We're bonded..." He took a deep breath to quell the ache that was partly fear for her, partly hunger. How did married couples ever live without each other, even for a few hours? "By tomorrow, she'll be calling in the Enforcers we trust. Get the crew ready, Gan. Cianna, how soon until I'm on my feet?"

  "I'd rather you took it easy, but that'll never happen," Cianna continued, holding up a hand to forestall his protest. "You barely pulled yourself out of bed without help. We'll see how much control you've regained in the morning. All right?"

  "Do I have any choice?"

  "What are you planning?" Cae asked.

  "Rhianni's my other half. We're useless without each other. What do you think I'm going to do?" Petroc gave them a grin that held far more confidence than he felt.

  What physical strength couldn't provi
de him, he would just have to accomplish on sheer determination and hunger.

  Rhianni turned slowly to meet the gazes of everyone sitting in the tiered half-circle of seats in the black and gold council chamber. "What I have seen and heard since coming home to Mallachrom hurts me deeply. I offer my expertise, my Rover training, to help my home world."

  "We are grateful," Speaker Montos answered. "Tell us what to do. We will obey." The lights of the chamber gleamed on his sweating, bare dome head.

  "Do you know what you're saying?" Rhianni choked on the irony. She had to pretend not to want the power this man had just offered her.

  Political maneuvering and multi-layered falsehood sickened her. Rhianni had seen her father play this game, tricking enemies into becoming followers. She hoped she could follow in his footsteps.

  "What do you think we are saying?" Lalorn's tiny black eyes sparkled with hidden laughter.

  He sat next to Montos, with Wallin on the other side. They ran the Council and drained Mallachrom dry.

  Montos: fat, pale and bald. He appeared weak and silly, but his mind was reputed to be the sharpest on the planet. Lalorn: over seventy years old, youngest of the three, strong and healthy, his skin dark and smooth, only a few streaks of silver in his hair. He was the quiet one, whose few words, sharp and bitter, swayed his companions. Wallin looked like an aging hero, with broad shoulders and a voice as rich as his clothes. Rhianni had heard he tortured animals for amusement.

  Survivors of the Talroqi invasion said these men had been captured, but when the Liberation came, they were the first to emerge from a secret bunker on the outskirts of Core. They told tales of privation and suffering. Heroes, they led the rebuilding of Mallachrom, yet under their guidance, there had never been any true rebirth.

  Almost from the day the Taken had been found in the forests of Mallachrom, these men had advocated isolating and programming them to forget everything that happened to them. Rhianni wondered now what those men were so desperate for the Taken to forget.

  "I do not want responsibility. I am trained to work under the authority of others. I offer my advice and skills. Whatever happens to Mallachrom must be the Council's responsibility, not mine, with your decisions the final ones. Do you understand?"

  "Captain Day, your qualifications are excellent. Why do you shrink from taking authority here?" Wallin asked. "We know your father's reputation, and your esteemed grandmother." He nodded to Mistress Shoreel. "You are more than capable. We need you."

  Rhianni leaned on the railing before her. "I am used to military governing, military precision and obedience. I am used to situations where obedience must be complete and instant, because hesitation could be deadly. Do you want military rule here? Do you want the strict rules, the curfews and inspections? I don't. Mallachrom is my home, not a world under siege." She turned to her grandmother. "This was a mistake, Grandmother. I beg the Council's forgiveness for wasting their time." She bowed to the room at large and left.

  The expressions she caught made her think her ploy had worked. Rhianni thought she saw relief on some faces, confusion on others. No anger or skepticism. The leaders smiled at her as she left. Her grandmother seemed especially pleased.

  Rhianni kept her steps short but brisk as she moved down the hallway. She allowed the barest smile when she heard the door open behind her and her grandmother's hurrying footsteps. How could such an enormously, grossly fat woman move so quickly?

  "Rhianni, dear, where are you going?" Mistress Shoreel huffed as she caught up with her. "Won't you wait to hear the Council's decision?"

  "Decision? In order for me to function, Grandmother, I have to be in complete, unquestioned control."

  "We realize that."

  "A Rover captain has the authority to overrule any colonial government. I could have just walked in and told the Council they were out in the street, but I didn't."

  "Yes." The woman's voice changed. Its coolness created a shiver up Rhianni's back. "We knew you had to be tested."

  "Tested? We don't agree much, Grandmother, but I thought you would trust me where Mallachrom is concerned."

  "Where Mallachrom is concerned, I trust no one." She gestured toward her office. "Make yourself comfortable. I have to return to vote."

  That night, the order went over the colony-wide address system. All Enforcer units were ordered to report to Rover Captain Rhianni Day, who was now in charge of planetary security.

  The next three days passed in a whirlwind of tension and an urge to scream. The Rovers usually handled red tape by turning weapons on it. That tactic wouldn't work here. Slow and steady was the tactic to take, to gather up the lead reins of all the power on the planet and ease it out of the hands of the enemy. Rhianni dove into the paperwork and shuffled patrols, replacing officers who hated the Taken with security personnel on Gan's 'friendly' list. She tapped into the colony databases and implanted codes and programs to freeze information and keep it out of the enemy's hands. She brought Rovers into position as government workers and mechanics and security personnel. The pressure would have made her ill, but for the energy and rejuvenation that came from touching Petroc's thoughts. Rhianni took a few hours each night to sit quietly and talk mind-to-mind with him, to exchange news and adapt their plans. It was work, but it felt like a treat. The only thing better than touching his thoughts would have been to feel his arms around her. She tried to push that longing to the back of her mind, so it wouldn't interfere with her work. There was so much work to do.

  Anyone among the Taken who was not trained for the expected battle had moved to the illegal settlements. The Black Pit hadn't enlarged since the Rovers gutted the detention center, but the sentinels reported disturbances inside it.

  Green fire lingered in the mental atmosphere, trying to latch onto Rhianni like leeches. Petroc watched over her sleeping, aided by the strength of the Merger, so she dreamed only once of the poisonous green fire that tried to crawl up inside her. She wished that he could be there, beside her, holding her. Knowing he moved through her dreams had to be enough for now.

  By the fourth day of being the ultimate authority on Mallachrom and reorganizing every aspect of the government to take it out of the enemy's hands, she was heartily sick of it all. Rhianni wished for the days of furtive planning and speculation in QSE. She wished for Petroc more each day, even as she grew angry with him. Despite the deepening bond between their minds, he had done nothing, made no move, given no indication that he reciprocated the hunger and need that seethed inside her. The worst part was that she knew they had no time or right to indulge their personal needs until Mallachrom was safe.

  But couldn't he give her a little hint that he suffered as much as she did?

  Every morning when she woke from her restless sleep, Rhianni told herself she was grateful Petroc was safe, hidden away in QSE where he could lead the Rovers and Taken if anything happened to her.

  She would die if anything happened to him.

  She just prayed she wouldn't have to die before she could tell him and show him how she felt.

  Only the Council's elite Enforcers resisted Rhianni's reorganization of the security forces throughout Core. She brought Gan and his unit from QSE to work directly with her. They chose who worked in the new network of communications and enforcement on Mallachrom. They knew who could be trusted, and they inserted as many Rovers as possible into the new structure. The Council Enforcers didn't like that. Common sense said she would only work with those who had proven themselves trustworthy. The Council Enforcers didn't operate on common sense, but on pride. They had been the elite and believed they should continue as the elite.

  Remembering what Council Enforcers had done to Petroc, it took all Rhianni's self-control to keep from tossing them all into detention. Now was not the right time. She didn't dare tip her hand. Not even to indulge a gnawing need for revenge. She longed for the moment everything was in place and she could overthrow the Council and take them and their bullies into custody, and lock them away in a
deep, dark hole. Preferably sedated with the same drugs they had used on Petroc, until the Galactic Fleet showed up to carry them away.

  By the fifth day, Rhianni hated her office, but it was her only haven. The desk overflowed with paperwork and the desk screen constantly flashed with message alerts and incoming reports.

  Help is coming, Petroc said.

  Eavesdropping isn't nice. She smiled at her cluttered desk and wished she could see his face. The sense of him was stronger than ever. Of course, that could have been a hallucination, brought on by exhaustion and simple hormonal overload. Or was that deprivation? Her dream-lover had vanished, replaced by hungry dreams of Petroc. One of these days, dreams of him and touching his mind wasn't going to be enough, and she would explode.

  After the mission, she told herself for the thousandth time. And prayed Petroc hadn't heard that.

  I wasn't eavesdropping. You think awfully loud. We've decided you need a bodyguard.

  Roc--

  Look outside your door. Tell your secretary I'm supposed to be here before she has me arrested for loitering. She's giving me the evil eye. Petroc laughed and the mental sound vibrated through her.

  Petroc, in her outer office? Anger at his daring, greedy delight at having him physically close, fear for his life all clashed together inside her so she nearly felt sick.

  Knowing if she thought very long, she'd freeze up, Rhianni hit the control on her desk, unlocking and opening the door. It slid open, revealing five people sitting in the next room. An older Enforcer with silver hair and a patchy beard stood and saluted her. She looked into his dark eyes and felt the impact of Petroc's mind, the touch of his spirit like a caress that made her knees go weak. Then she recognized those dark eyes, the shape of his chin under that beard.

  Just how long do you expect that disguise to work?