Vicious Circle

by Elle E. Ire

  As I pulled on my boots, my smile faded.

  My lover had changed since Farn’s death, then his promotion to Leader. The brushes of his hand or knee against mine under the dining tables, the stolen kisses in shadowy alcoves, the “accidental” drape of his arm over my body while we slept on adjoining pallets—all ceased. He’d said nothing, and it hurt, but he continued to meet me here whenever circumstances permitted. When I questioned him, he’d go silent or change the topic.

  Guild rules forbade our relationship from the start, though such affairs happened with some frequency. They didn’t last long, and Leaders generally overlooked them.

  Ours lasted more than two years. And now he was the Leader.

  Micah’s eyes opened, and we looked at each other for a long minute before he rose and spoke. Expression, posture, and tone told me before words this night had been our last together. I’d seen this coming but hadn’t wanted to admit it.

  “I have to set an example,” he told me.

  My shoulders stiffened. My fists clenched at my sides, and I willed the fingers to uncurl. Emotion wouldn’t convince him to change his mind. Logic might. “You’ve always set an example. You train apprentices and first-years. It’s never concerned you before.” No anger, just a statement of fact.

  “The Guild is my life.” He reached for his discarded clothing, the pants and tunic, the sash that identified him as Leader. It gave him an excuse not to meet my eyes.

  “The Guild doesn’t know.” We’d hidden it this long. We could continue to do so.

  “Farn knew.”

  I blinked in surprise.

  “He told me to end it. He threatened to remove my name as successor from the records. If he hadn’t died….” His voice caught. Micah and Farn had been close, like brothers. Farn’s death affected us all, but Micah the most. “Nothing can supersede devotion to the Guild.” He turned to me, and his gaze softened. “Nothing and no one. Not even you. We’ve become too attached—dependent, even. Our enemies could use us against each other. If one of us were captured….”

  My dream-self observed the proceedings without the emotional bindings of the moment, hovering outside my body like an invisible ghostly voyeur.

  If I’d been captured on some assignment and used against him, he’d have sacrificed me for the greater good. I hadn’t believed that then. I certainly believed that now. And I also knew, now, he’d sacrifice himself in order to preserve the image of perfection he’d worked so hard to craft and mold.

  I watched myself kick a loose stone, bouncing it off the wall. “Will ending it change that? Will you care less about me if we’re not having sex?”

  His shoulders slumped. He looked away. “Over time, yes.”

  I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. “Time will not change how I feel about you.”

  But it had. Part of me hated him now, and hated myself for hating him.

  Pushing past him, I walked through the holographic wall, then ran down the corridor before he could see my tears, my weakness.

  Things worsened between us after that. Little hints indicated Micah hadn’t given up all sexual activity. He’d just given it up with me. Maybe he’d found someone he could be more casual with. Someone he wouldn’t accidentally show feelings for in public. Someone who wouldn’t interfere with his devotion to the Guild.

  Chapter 11

  A CHOKED sob woke me—my own. I hauled in a breath, but the tears fell, a few at first, then an outpouring of emotion I hadn’t allowed myself since Micah’s death.

  Kila held me, rocked me, and made soothing noises against my hair. What must she think about me? Calculating assassin, psychological wreck. The catharsis ended, and my sobs died down to the occasional hiccup. I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t want to see the concern and pity I would find in those expressive green eyes.

  “Who’s Micah?” she asked, voice almost lost in the rumble of the pod’s engines. Guess I talked in my sleep. Good thing I was an assassin and not a spy.

  I waited until I had complete control before answering, which took longer than I would have liked. “Savior, friend, lover, Guild Leader.” At least the sleep restored a little of my strength. Pulling away from her, I stood and shuffled across the narrow space to the trio of seats at the control console. “Stubborn bastard,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  One mistake. One admitted mistake and Micah and I would both be living our lives in the Guild. He wouldn’t be Leader. But he’d be alive.

  And all the death that followed his would never have been necessary.

  My dislocated shoulder throbbed, but the physical pain distracted me from the emotional ones.

  “This was the Guild Leader who died?”

  “Yes.” I checked the console displays. All systems functioned within normal parameters. We would land on Lissex within an hour. I’d slept hard.

  “The one that other assassin said you killed?”

  I drew a stilling breath, letting the anguish drain. “Yes,” I sighed. Kila stood behind me, so close her breath moved strands of my hair.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Shifting in the confined space, I faced her. I gripped her forearm with my good hand. “I didn’t kill him.” I needed her to believe. No one else in the universe would. I was the only living being who knew Micah ended his own life. Someone else’s affirmation would go a long way toward ending my nightmares.

  Kila’s eyes bore into mine, searching, searching. “I know.”

  The atmospheric alarm sounded—a welcome interruption. “Strap in.” I led by example, seating myself in the nearest chair and fastening the restraint across my waist. The shoulder straps proved impossible without help. Kila drew the stretch bands down for me and snapped them into place, keeping things snug around my injury to minimize jolts. “Thank you,” I told her, and tried to convey more than gratitude for her assistance with the restraints.

  She smiled, and my heart lifted.

  Sitting side by side, we watched the altimeter count down to zero, the braking thrusters pushing us against our seats. I gritted my teeth at the agony the pressure caused but didn’t black out. We hit and bounced twice. No landing gear on something this small. The pod rolled on its side, then righted. We’d arrived on Lissex.

  AS I predicted, the pod’s onboard scanners and sensors landed us on the largest of the inhabited islands, imaginatively named Paradise. Local time was midmorning, and the tropical sun beat down on us upon our emergence from the escape vessel.

  The craft rested in a field of green plants bearing violet fruit that hung heavy off the stems. In the distance we could see the coastal village—one couldn’t call it a city—of Wayfarer’s Wharf, according to Kila. Sun glinted off metal rooftops, and pastels dominated the color scheme.

  We walked in companionable silence toward the waterfront town. Kila tugged one of the globes off the vine and popped it into her mouth, then passed a couple to me. I bit through the purple skin, letting the sour juices quench hunger and thirst simultaneously. A rumble from my stomach reminded me we hadn’t eaten since the previous evening, and I grabbed a few more of the ripe round fruits to consume on our journey.

  By the time we reached Wayfarer’s Wharf, the sun had climbed to its zenith. I sweated heavily in my jacket, and my hair clung to my forehead in wet strands. Kila showed signs of wear as well, with her heavy bag over her shoulder. I’d left mine back on the Regiment 1, but I’d pulled my best weapons from it before the fight with Alek and Vargas. Those were my only possessions that mattered.

  Here in the village, we caught the breeze of Lissex’s endless oceans, and the temperature grew cooler. Front porches with rocking chairs and swirling fans beckoned. Visitors and residents reclined on lounges, sipping tall drinks from glasses coated with condensation. I would have searched for an inn or rest house to recuperate for a night, but Kila caught my arm and guided me toward the docks.

  We passed slip after slip housing the most beautiful seago
ing vessels I’d ever seen. Granted, I’d spent a great deal of my life in the desert of Sardonen, but I’d traveled extensively and visited many worlds. These graceful, elegant boats with their flowing sails and traditional wooden hulls painted in bright colors drew my eye away from everything else. They evoked a festive air, a cheeriness in harmony with the sun, the warmth, and the pleasant chatter of locals strolling the boardwalk. It was easy to see how such a world produced someone like Kila.

  I glanced sideways at her. She’d changed clothes before we left the pod, exchanging her brain-spattered top for an off-the-shoulder white blouse that left her midriff bare above the waistband of her skirt. Compared to the natives, she was pale, but she’d been off-world for some time. Her hair shone red and gold in the sunlight.

  Kila noticed me staring and flashed a smile. I turned away quickly. My blush caught me by surprise, and I covered my discomfort with a cough.

  My guide came to a halt at slip 179. The yacht docked there surpassed all others in its grandeur. The hull glowed cheerfully in a glorious yellow with aqua trim. Three masts rose from her polished light wood deck. Judging from the size, it had to contain several cabins, a mess, and who knew what else. Someone had painted T’ral’s Triumph across the side, also in aqua, T’ral for her family name and Triumph for obvious reasons.

  “What’s it doing here?” I asked, wondering how many knew Kila’s whereabouts and how they could know.

  “It’s mine. Right where I left it before heading off-world. This is the largest island with the largest population. The spaceport is located on the opposite side.”

  “Ah.” My blood pressure lowered.

  “All aboard!” she announced, swinging onto the deck by grasping a rigging line and giving a little jump.

  I possessed plenty of athleticism, but with one good arm and a lack of familiarity, I looked awkward and unbalanced compared to her on that boat. I tried to gauge the motion, even as slight as it was here in dock, in order not to stagger while boarding. I almost managed the maneuver without a stutter-step. Hopefully I’d make a better show of it next time.

  We passed through a wooden door, then down a short flight of stairs to the area below deck. Though everything was neat and orderly, the air here smelled stale and musty, and a thin layer of dust coated everything. Kila ran her hand over the paneled walls, the counters, the brass doorknobs leading into the cabins. The beatific smile on her face reminded me of someone greeting a long-lost friend or lover. I watched her caress each surface and a strange warmth flooded the pit of my stomach.

  Shaking it off, I followed her to the forward-most compartment and stepped over a raised threshold. What met my eyes surprised me. I could have been on the bridge of a starship with the amount of technology this little room held. One chair dominated the center of the space, an interface panel embedded into its armrest.

  “No crew?”

  “Nope,” she said, dropping her bag on the deck and seating herself. I moved to stand behind her. “The computer actually runs everything.” She pressed her thumb to a scanner. The panel lit up in green. A screen on the forward bulkhead activated, showing the dock to the right and the ocean extending out to the horizon. “Take us home, Triumph.”

  “Aye, aye, Kila,” an automated woman’s voice responded through overhead speakers.

  Hidden motors vibrated to life within the bowels of the yacht, and I heard the repetitive patter of underwater propellers. “It’s not wind driven.”

  Kila shook her head. “Too unreliable. The sails are for show, though they can function in an emergency. Lissex loves its traditions, and we perpetuate them for the tourist trade, but in the early days, hundreds of ships and their crews were lost to the sea.” She made some minor adjustments, setting our speed and turning on the stabilizers to counteract the motion of the waves.

  I hid a sigh of relief. I’d traveled on many starships and had no tendency toward spacesickness, at least not anymore. Seasickness was something else entirely, and I had already shown far too many inadequacies on this journey.

  “How long will the trip take?”

  “We’re a full day and a couple of hours out. Plenty of time for me to acquaint you with the pleasures of ocean travel.” She grinned, and for a second I wondered if she had something in mind other than sun and sea.

  I gave myself an internal kick. Kila was my employer, and I hoped she considered herself my friend. Anything beyond was more than I needed or wanted at this point in my likely-to-be-short life. I didn’t even understand where the thoughts came from. My feelings about Kila blindsided me. While I appreciated attractiveness in both men and women, my partners to this point had all been male. That didn’t mean I wasn’t open to other options. Fate knew I’d had less than stellar success with men. But I was not experimenting with this sheltered, impressionable, very young girl of nineteen. Resolutely, I focused on our departure.

  The journey would give me time to recuperate and rest. I would have preferred longer, but with her brother’s coming-of-age ceremony approaching, we couldn’t afford the luxury of dawdling.

  I glanced at the viewscreen so I wouldn’t have to look at Kila. The Triumph puttered its way to the edge of the inlet. The roar of the motors increased, and I felt the acceleration upon entering the open sea.

  “Pleasure will have to wait,” I told her. “There’s something I need to fix first.”

  THE YACHT boasted an impressive little infirmary, tiny but well-stocked and the equipment first-rate. I rifled through a cabinet of vials until I came up with the appropriate local painkiller and injected myself just below the dislocated shoulder. The area around the injury went numb, though I knew it was temporary relief.

  Scanning the room, I chose a bare patch of wood-paneled wall and stepped up to it. I took several deep breaths to steel myself.

  “Cor, what—?”

  Before Kila could intervene, I slammed my shoulder into the wall, forcing the joint back into place with a sickening wet pop. Even with the local anesthetic, the pain tore through me. The edges of my vision darkened and fragmented. My body swayed from more than the ocean’s waves. Breathing steadily and evenly, I lowered myself to one knee so I’d have less distance to fall if I passed out. Kila assisted in getting me there, easing me down by my elbow.

  “Are you truly insane?”

  “I’ll let… you know… in a minute.” I put my head down below my bent knee and continued to breathe. The fog rolled in and out of my brain, then receded altogether. Cautious and tentative, I tested my arm’s range of movement. It hurt like blazes but seemed to have good mobility. I rose, keeping one hand on the wall, just in case the blood rushed to my head. “Not insane,” I said to Kila. “At least not yet.”

  “Can you walk?”

  I nodded. I felt steady enough. In fact, I hadn’t noticed much aching in the leg since we arrived on Lissex, despite the long hike. Even with the humidity, the warm climate no doubt helped.

  Kila led me above deck, where the smell of the salt air assailed my nostrils, and the wind whipped my hair around my face so hard it stung my cheeks. I pulled a hair tie from my jacket pocket and made a tail of the dark strands. Overhead, the metal fasteners holding the furled sails in place clanged like bells against the mast or boom or whatever seafaring people called it. I scanned the sea in all directions. Behind, I could make out the hazy outline of Paradise, receding with every second. To the sides and in front, there was only open water, waves cresting with whitecaps and not another ship or landmass in sight.

  Though I’d never told anyone, space travel made me a bit nervous—trapped on a ship in the middle of nowhere, with an unfamiliar crew and passengers. This was completely different, calming and peaceful. This kind of isolation felt safe.

  “You can stow the jacket here.” Kila pointed to a wooden box attached to the decking. She drew out a pair of heavy body-length towels and, with some difficulty from the breeze, managed to spread them out flat. Little weights attached to the corners kept them there.


  I put my hands on my hips. “You aren’t serious.” After all we’d been through and still had ahead of us, she wanted to sunbathe?

  She giggled, actually giggled. “Completely.” Placing her hands on her own hips, she did a fair impression of my stance and mimicked my voice. “I’m in charge. I’m the captain of this vessel, and I order you to dump the jacket and the weapons in the locker and relax for a few hours.” She dropped my persona with a laugh. “Besides, the heat will help keep your shoulder from stiffening up again.”

  Good point. I stripped off the jacket and my side holster and pistol and tossed them into the box along with my belt knife. I reached between my shoulder blades before remembering my back holster and spare gun were lost aboard the Regiment 1. After removing my boots, I placed them up against the cabin as far from the spray as possible. I tucked my socks inside them.

  I seated myself on the towel, rolled my pants to my knees, and tucked the sleeves of my T-shirt under my bra straps. I tugged the material from the waistband of my slacks and curled it under the bottom of the bra, exposing my abdomen to the warm sun.

  Kila lay down, her skirt around her thighs and her eyes closed. She began humming that nameless tune, its melody familiar to me by now. The song held no particular rhythm and yet kept time with the gentle rocking of the boat and the thrum of the vessel’s engine.

  I reclined, sighed, and drifted with the waves. Aches and pains faded with each successive verse of Kila’s tune. The sound of her voice lulled me into a dreamlike state. It was more peace than I’d felt in a lifetime.

  NIGHTMARES OF Micah’s death startled me awake, dispelling the peace I’d finally achieved, and I focused on regulating my breathing before opening my eyes. I lay facedown, my cheek rubbing the thick white towel. I didn’t remember rolling over but thanked fate I had. The formidable Lissex sun could no doubt burn with prolonged exposure, and I had no idea where Kila stored the sunblock.