Captive Embers (The Wardens' Game Book 1)

by Brian Mansur

  He caught her and swayed back on his heels until they broke free of the deck plating. The pair drifted into the floor, bounced and scrambled to right themselves, knocking helmets. When they had regained a dignified position, Sarah was staring up at Sean, a hot flush painting her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, sir!” she said. “I just tripped. Sorry. I'm sorry.”

  “It’s fine, Lieutenant,” Sean said.

  “Are you all right? I haven’t been in zero grav much and….”

  Over Sarah’s mortified apologies, Sean heard Apple laughing through his nostrils. The lieutenant had an urge to thump his friend’s helmet.

  “Really. It’s all right, Lieutenant,” Sean said. “We’ve all done something like that before.” He hoped she didn’t ask him for an example because he couldn’t remember ever being that clumsy.

  From beside the airlock, Apple said, “By the way, Miss Riley, Lieutenant Merrick here has a mid-back and left upper thigh injury. Train how we fight and make sure his suit’s sensors didn’t miss any wounds.”

  Sarah nodded her head with such vigor that Sean worried she might bang it against her helmet. He extended his arm for her to get started. “Let’s get this done.” That calmed her somewhat, so he added, “How long should this take?”

  “Oh, uh, three minutes, sir.” She unclasped his glove. “That is if everything on your suit is working right.” She pulled the glove free then looked about. “And this would go faster if I had a place for your armor.”

  Sean reached into a hip pocket and produced a bag. She took it with a murmur of gratitude then moved into high-speed mode, clawing off his protective gear.

  “At nursing school, we didn’t get to practice this as much as I think we should have.”

  “There should be four others coming in,” Sean said, “so you’ll get plenty today.”

  “Yes, sir,” came her earnest response. Then she told him, “Thank you for what you did during the sim, sir.”

  Sean blinked. He shivered as if waking from a bad dream.

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant?”

  “The doctor and I listened to the CIC net until we got hit. You have a very confident voice. I think it helped everyone’s nerves during the exercise. I know it did mine.”

  Sean didn’t know how to respond. He’d wrecked the ship by turning their flank to the enemy at the wrong moment. Well, all right, it was also the captain’s fault for keeping them closer to the hauler than Sean thought safe. For that matter, Commander Blake had programmed a patently unrealistic scenario to cause mayhem. But darn it, he hated losing at anything.

  “You’re welcome.” He thought for a moment then said, “You seem skilled at encouraging people. It’s appreciated.”

  Sarah rewarded him with a grin that could’ve melted iron. “I think that is the nicest thing anyone has told me all month, sir. Thank you.” She took his forearm in her hands. Sean jerked. He opened his mouth to ask what she was doing when she said, “Sorry, but I have to get the rest of that suit off you.”

  Sarah missed Sean’s chagrined expression as she worked the controls at his left wrist. An electric current surged to warm the metal bands woven into his suit. A squeezing sensation enveloped his body as the suit’s heated coils shrunk into a “remembered” state. He tensed as they moved from their buckled to unbuckled positions.

  Sarah noticed Sean flinching and took his hand in hers. “That part’s never fun, is it.”

  Forcing a breath, he found himself appreciating her touch. Then, before he knew it, she was dismantling his suit. He looked down to watch her stuffing parts into the bag he’d given her.

  “Do you hurt anywhere besides your back and leg?” she asked. “Do you feel short of breath?”

  Claire beeped in on his private headset. “No, you don’t,” Sean answered Sarah accordingly, feeling a little silly at the role-play.

  Sarah asked, “Can you tell me what you think happened to you?”

  “Shrapnel got me.”

  She rotated him to examine his back. Sean surmised that Claire was feeding her information too because she said, “Okay, good news is that you only seem to have taken a bruise above the ribs. We’ll scan you later to be sure nothing was broken.”

  In a deadpan, Sean said, “Don’t let me die doc. I’m scared.”

  Sarah caught herself before she could giggle too loudly. And for the first time in what seemed a long while, her reaction to his stupid joke made Sean release a genuine laugh.

  Sarah said, “Thank you, sir. That would be training how we fight, wouldn't it?”

  “Happy to oblige, Lieutenant.”

  He reverted to a subdued manner. The look of uncertainty in Sarah’s face made him realize that he was probably coming across as impatient with her. He forced some life back into his voice. “You’re doing a great job. I mean that.” And to his relief, he managed to sound sincere.

  Averting his eyes from her reaction to his praise, he changed topics. “Hey, can we take this helmet and harness off me? I’m tired of smelling myself.”

  “Sorry, sir,” she said. “Not unless I need to treat something under it.”

  “Does an itching scalp count as an emergency?”

  She gave him an understanding smile but shook her head.

  Claire announced, “Three-minute mark.”

  Sarah had only managed to remove half of his clothing. Gripping at his pants, she said, “I’ll need another minute to put a patch below your tourniquet.”

  He realized with shock that tears glassed his eyes. He hadn’t appreciated how much the vice around his thigh pinched. Worse still, he couldn’t brush them away. Before he could think to breathe through his mouth, he sniffled. He sensed Sarah glancing up.

  “Are you all right, sir?” Sarah asked with alarm. “Did I hurt you?”

  Sean felt shame blaze within. As a graduate of the special forces “Overwatch” school, he prided himself on enduring discomfort with stoicism. He’d handled being injured on Lakshmi Colony with far more aplomb. On top of all that, he knew he was treating Sarah coolly while she kept trying to warm up to him: behavior hardly befitting a gentleman.

  He croaked, “That tourniquet is bugging the hell out of me.” The half-truth made him feel like a liar all the same. He sensed Sarah go to work along his upper thigh. She hooked up a cable to the tourniquet and pressed a button. As with his tension suit, it tightened then released.

  “Is that better?” she asked.

  Sean mumbled, “Yeah, thanks,” and gave her a thumbs-up.

  “That will be sore for a few days. Do you want a painkiller?”

  He mustered his most reassuring smile. “That’s okay, I’ll be fine. Sorry for the bother. You’d better get finished with me though before someone else comes in.”

  Sarah did as she was told, though her expression remained worried. He wanted to tell her, “It’s fine. It isn’t anything you’ve done.” He keenly realized he was acting as awkward with her as she had been with stepping about.

  Smirking at his idiocy, he resolved to be better company the next time they spoke.

  9

  Location: Lilith’s private estate, Lakshmi Colony_

  The next morning, Lilith lay in a luxurious bed, reading Henry’s file on the Mykonian spy. She scowled and promised herself anew that whether their prisoner helped them or not, he’d soon wish he had. Such was the fate she’d vowed to inflict on all who tried to harm her.

  Life had once been very different for the woman who’d come to be called Lilith. She’d grown up as the spoiled and reckless daughter of a prominent Lakshmian crime lord. Then, at the fragile age of seventeen, her father’s rivals raided their home and slaughtered everyone she loved. The thugs spared her only to sell her to the brothels. The ensuing years of rape and other violence hammered into her a sense of bitter resolve. She swore she would never again be a slave.

  Driven by this oath, Lilith slipped out from among the plush, satin pillows, and walked naked into the bathroom where she tended to her ma
keup. She knew men found her beautiful. Add in a night or two of exotic sex and most of her lovers found themselves too distracted around her to concentrate. This approach had served her well as she’d seduced, blackmailed and murdered her way out of the pleasure houses and into a position of power. It would shortly do so again.

  She heard a faint rustle as her night’s guest stirred amongst the bed’s satin sheets. Her manicured fingers reached for a sheer robe.

  “Did you sleep well, Henry?” she asked.

  He grunted. His hands slithered about him, searching. “Did Melissa leave?”

  “Yes,” Lilith said pertly. “I sent her to work after you drifted off. Would you like to have us again tonight? Something tells me things will go splendidly today.”

  Henry said, “I’m glad you’re feeling optimistic again.”

  “Thanks to you,” she said. “I think a repeat of last night will be in order.” She settled herself onto the bed and leaned to emphasize her chest. “I want you to know how grateful I am for all you’ve done to protect our hard work.”

  In a dry, throaty voice he said, “If I ever go back to Celes, screwing my wife will be boring after these sex marathons.”

  Lilith replied in a haughty tone, “Her fault for not stepping up her game.”

  “Mmm.”

  Smiling, she asked if he wanted breakfast. Despite their romp the night before, a more carnal hunger shone in his eyes.

  He’s such a fool, she thought with contemptuous amusement. She marveled at how easily tending the man’s wildest desires and ego had dulled his mind. She giggled girlishly while imagining the deluded self-satisfaction Henry doubtless felt. Of course, he wasn’t as satisfying as her moans implied. But so many years in the brothels on Lakshmi had taught her exactly what men wanted to hear.

  She said, “It’s nice to work with someone who believes in making business fun.” Her pinkie twisted the hairs on his chest. “Speaking of business, I’ve something to discuss with you. Oh, no need to tense up like that.” She pulled him from the bed. “First, you should use the bathroom. Get comfortable. I’ll give you something to eat.”

  Henry regarded her with unconcealed desire. She knew then she would get what she wanted. In her experience, no one was more pliable than a man who went into negotiations sexually charged and with his eyes wide open. Awareness of the trap made men overconfident. More often than not, they underestimated how deeply the eroticism affected their judgment.

  An hour later and her lascivious methods yielded fruit. Henry agreed to get his government to transfer another small fortune to her accounts and position their ships for the operation. Just in case.

  Such a fool, she mused again. She had given up some valuable items in the exchange, but nothing the Wardens hadn’t provided her plenty of already. The bots had been most generous: bequeathing her the means to slay her family’s murderers and build a small empire in illicit ventures. Now that she’d proven her abilities, however, the Wardens had set her on a path to do so much more. So long as she did their bidding, they would give her the tools she needed to ensure she was never any man’s slave again. Of course, there wasn’t anything that she wouldn’t do for that.

  The drugs wore off before Rafe could sleep. As a consequence, he spent the night—or day for all he knew—in misery. A hoard of burns, scrapes, itches, cramps, and twinges infested his body. His cracked rib cage screamed at him. His dry throat felt as if he’d swallowed cotton and his broken jaw pulsated.

  An hour after Henry’s departure, Rafe thought he’d go insane from discomfort. An hour after that, he began to wonder less about how to thwart his captors and more about how to enrage them to kill him quickly.

  He prodded himself to think about what they were planning. Lilith’s smugglers had Arbiters and nukes. They’d partnered with the Celesians who wanted to conquer Mykon. The question was, how would Lilith help them in that goal?

  He didn’t quite know. Mykon quarantined out-of-system traffic, subjecting passengers and cargo to detailed scans before permitting them near a colony. An armed cargo box had little chance of reaching a Mykonian colony undiscovered. Even Zeus station kept a checkpoint at a supply depot three hundred kilometers out. The ever-vigilant picket warships could shoot down even a small swarm of missiles striking from that range.

  The Belians had looser security, so any targets must be there. But what would they gain by destroying a Belian colony? Rama Colony’s debris continued to be a hazard to shipping. Blowing up another habitat would only worsen that. Not good for smugglers. He wondered if Lilith wanted to force the other colonies to side with Celes. That made the most sense, but he felt certain he’d missed something.

  The mental exercise soon wore thin. He fretted over his family. His exhausted psyche alternated between bouts of anger and depression before returning to the bitter struggle against his bodily discomforts.

  It seemed forever before someone came. By then, he didn’t have the energy to hope or fear what might happen next. He almost welcomed the constricting blindfold that they bound to him because it blocked the lights. Then they marched him into the back of a vehicle.

  The ride’s gentle sway would have lulled him into unconsciousness had it not been for the bumps jarring his fractured ribs. After arriving at their destination, they dragged him from the car and into another structure. After they tied him to another chair, someone tore the blindfold off. He immediately wished they’d kept it on. First, the new room’s lamps drove through his swollen eyelids like knives. Second, the woman standing over him looked very, very upset.

  Blinking, Rafe caught brief impressions of her. She wore an ornate, black and gold sari, which gripped her hour-glass form from bust to thighs. Her auburn hair swept up in a swirling bun that lent her a regal bearing, like some ancient monarch. Green eyes bore into him with ferocious intensity.

  He knew who she was before she spoke a word.

  “Six months of planning and work!” Lilith screamed. She spat and swore as Rafe flinched, fingernails raking across his cheek in a vicious slap. He had long enough to gasp in pain before the other cheek took a blow.

  The next moment, Rafe found himself howling as the enraged lady reached between his legs and squeezed his testicles in her hand. That proved to be only the beginning of the abuse she would inflict over the next half hour.

  After Rafe began to hope she had expended the worst of her fury, she pulled over a chair, sat down, and held an open bottle of something pungent to his nose. The fumes snapped his senses back into a semblance of focus.

  Lilith cursed again and said, “Before I stuff you alive into a small, dark box full of things that bite, Mr. Hastings, you will tell me what your Mykonian friends know about my plans.”

  It took several seconds for Rafe to catch his breath. When he did, his numb mind finally grasped that he needed to die. He couldn’t resist any longer. But what could he say to make her kill him?

  He muttered, “Who are you again?”

  That set her off. She shouted, “You already know perfectly well who I am! What information from Baylor did you pass along to your government?”

  Rafe desperately wanted to tell her. He felt like little more than a husk of who he was. Hellish misery marred his existence, and his body begged for relief. He could almost wish for Markem to be punching him again instead of enduring this degrading torture. But her cruelty proved how vital it was to thwart her. How many more would be harmed if she had her way?

  Rafe sputtered his words. “No matter… no matter what I say. You’ll hurt me.”

  “True. But if you give me what I want, I might let your family live.”

  For a heart-stopping instant, the pain retreated. What does she mean by that? Does she have a way to sneak nukes inside Zeus’s defenses?

  He chose not to speak, surrendering himself to more torture. And to his surprise, after several seconds, a small laugh escaped Lilith’s throat.

  “Henry was right. You won’t talk no matter what I do.” She tilted her head
then added, “No matter what I do to you anyway.”

  A renewed sense of dread filled Rafe. He thought he understood her meaning and said, “There is no point—”

  “There is every point! Your meddling hurt me, so I swear to tear out your soul. You seem to care a great deal about others. Tell me what I want, or I will bring in here a mother and two girls. I’ll have them beaten, raped, and eviscerated in front of you.”

  Rafe tried to cover his shock over Lilith’s detailed knowledge about his loved ones. “I can’t.“

  Lilith struck his face again with her clawed hand. “In that case, when I destroy Zeus, I will make sure your family is still on it.”

  She stepped away to retrieve a tablet. “Mykonian Intelligence obviously went to a great deal of trouble to unlink you from your real identity. It took a while to match your DNA through the archives, but we found some old pictures of you. Nice surgical job, by the way. We don’t have many auto-sculpting suites on Lakshmi, as you might imagine.”

  Rafe began to wonder where she was taking the conversation.

  “Your home address was untraceable, of course,” she said, “but a recent image of your true face got onto a social net that your A.I. screeners seem to have missed.”

  Lilith turned the pad around. Rafe saw a photo of Karen posing with a classmate at a neighbor’s lawn party. Rafe and Gita stood in the background looking at the girls.

  “Your daughter, Karen, posted this,” Lilith said.

  Rafe stared balefully at the picture of his eldest child. He’d told her so many times what it took for them to protect each other. Not that he could blame his young daughter—his job was more complicated than any child could know.

  Lilith said, “Our A.I. used it to scan for more pictures. It seems Karen has been using a schoolmate’s social profile. Very unwise of her, given your line of work. Didn’t you tell your children not to do that? Well, of course, you must have. Otherwise, she’d have her own account.”

  Lilith swiped the photo to another close-up of Karen that might have been taken the day before. “Stupid girl. Once we figured out who she was, we learned everything we needed to about your wife, Gita, and your other daughter, Anna.”