A Blue Star Rising

by Cecilia Randell

  “Yes?” One word, the voice neutral.

  “I’m going to need a team and someone to take us to Falass.”

  “You have the location?”

  “Not yet. But I will soon.”

  “You are so sure?”

  Mo’ata bit back his snarl. Maybe the clans had spent too long in the wilds of the north, but he definitely felt like a cornered piquet whose young were in danger. “Blue and Felix are gone. I am sure Zeynar will get the location.”

  “She was taken?”

  Was that a faint hint of concern?

  “I do not think so. I think she managed to open a portal. Sloppily.”

  A curse. “They could be anywhere.”

  “Which is why I need to get to Falass and find Forrest. Once we have him back, he can track Blue.” Mo’ata hesitated. The piquet and their abilities were a very closely guarded secret of the clans. With three of them out in the world right now, he didn’t know how long that secret could be kept. Especially if Blue kept getting herself in trouble. “Vivi is with Forrest. She will be able to track Garfield, which will lead us to Blue and Felix.”

  Heavy silence on the other line. Demil knew Mo’ata was holding back, and allowed it. Then he sighed. “I won’t have anyone available for transportation until morning. But I’ll get the team together now.”

  Mo’ata hung up. There was nothing more to say. Zeynar might have someone who could take them, but he couldn’t count on that.

  His gaze went to the small stack of journals that sat next to Blue’s row of penny jars. Notebooks, she called them. They were her tales of the Piper Boy, or really, they were more notes than the whole stories—those she’d left back on Earth. But she’d noticed similarities between what her father had told her about the Piper Boy’s adventures and what she was seeing on Karran, so she’d taken to jotting them down when she remembered them.

  Dean Gravin. A man who held some affection for her, or at least for the memory of her father, and had shown a willingness to cooperate when others of the Ministry would not.

  He thought for a moment—this couldn’t go through official channels—then he sent a message to the Dean’s account, hoping it would be understood.

  Do you think the Piper Boy would be interested in another adventure? He attached his private comm address.

  He didn’t have long to wait.

  The Piper Boy is always interested in adventure.

  Then his comm rang.

  “Mo’ata of the Dramil,” Dean Gravin said before the clansman could speak. “You live in interesting times.”

  “Everyone but Zeynar and I are missing, for one reason or another. We have very good reason to suspect they are on Falass. Once we have the location, I and a team will need transport. Can you arrange this?” There was no time to, and no point in, playing with his words.

  A quickly drawn in breath. “Send me your location. Emila and I will be there in half an hour, or less.”

  The grown piquet. Another advantage. “Fine.” Then Mo’ata disconnected again. He looked around the apartment, at the lives they’d all carved out together. He didn’t want others poking through the things here, and he doubted Miss Trellot would appreciate the disturbance in her building.

  He sent the dean the address for Colci’s bar. Then he sent two more messages, telling Zeynar and Demil where he was headed.

  “Duri! I’m leaving. If you want in on this, get out here now.”

  The Zeynar guard appeared in the hall, his young face showing a cracked veneer of stone. Without another word, Mo’ata headed out the door, his new shadow close behind.

  TREVON

  Trevon turned back to Reynaul Eteru. There was a time to play the game, and there was a time to end it.

  He needed to end it.

  He pushed away the cup of tea he’d been offered when he came to call at the other Family head’s home on Karran. He’d been in luck that the man was here and not back on Martika.

  “I will be frank.”

  “You know how to do that?” Eteru wore a mask of skepticism, but Trevon caught the subtle shift of his shoulders. Eteru knew something he wouldn’t like was coming.

  Trevon pulled up the photo of Yvan Eteru and Yorik. “This is your second and a man we suspect to be going by the name of Miyari. He has been connected to ten other deaths, including one of my men. He has also been implicated in drug cultivation and distribution.”

  Eteru raised a brow. “Really? You, Zeynar, investigating a few deaths and trying to stop drugs?”

  Trevon waved a hand. “I have no interest in those. Except for my man, of course. No, my interest is in what else this Miyari may be working on. There were traces in this drug, and in other things, of an unknown substance. Something that causes seizures and brain bleeds. Something that affects the sensory areas of the brain. Something that has caused students at the Academy who were struggling to be just a little better, and Turamm clerks to rise in rank.” He raised a brow. “Sound familiar to anything else you may know of?”

  The color drained from Eteru’s features.

  It looked like his gamble had paid off. “The experiments Cularna performed on their own people all those years ago. This drug shows remarkable similarities.”

  “You know all records of those times are lost.”

  “But I also know the stories as well as you.” Stories of soldiers injected to make them stronger, faster, impervious to pain. Tales of manipulation of select genes to ensure it. The Alliance had eventually banned such experimentation, and Cularna had ceased per that order, but he suspected someone wanted to start again. “What are the lines again?

  “For all of those who stand in the warmth of the sun, and for all it gives life,

  For the vines that grow and feed them,

  For the flowers that bloom and the fruit that falls, to give us sweetness and beauty,

  And for the trees that tower, to protect us,

  For all that sleeps in the light of the stars, and all that they shine upon,

  For all that the moon bathes in its peace,

  For those the waves nourish and hold to their heart,

  And for all into which the wind breathes life,

  We pledge our protection and our loyalty.”

  Trevon had started alone, but Eteru’s voice soon joined his. They were pretty words, words that did not convey the depth of the duty accepted by a Family head when he took the position.

  Eteru pinned him with a hard gaze. “Do you have proof of this man’s actions?”

  Trevon pulled out a data card. “Everything we’ve found. And keep this in mind—this is not isolated to the other worlds. There has already been at least one instance in my House. No doubt there have been others, brushed aside or hushed up. This is a disease to the natural way of things.”

  Eteru took the data card and passed it to the man behind him. Not, Trevon noted, his second.

  “And what will you give me if I give you the location of this man?” Eteru asked as the second man inserted the data card into a tablet and began scanning the information. “I have had no reports of the perfidy of which you speak, and I have seen no indication this man is doing other than he has said, which is to make new and intriguing scents for trade. Even if your information reveals what you claim, I have struck a bargain with the one you call Miyari. I would need a very good reason to break it.” Eteru sipped his tea as the color slowly returned to his skin.

  He had recovered well.

  Trevon had thought long and hard on this. The idea, funnily enough, had been given to him by the mercenary. “A formal alliance between the families, sealed by marriage.”

  Eteru’s teacup thunked into its saucer. Idly, Trevon contemplated the fact that Blue should have a tea set, or at the least a teapot, so that she could have a cup of tea whenever she liked. Huh. Teapot.

  “To you?”

  Was that choking skepticism in the other Family head’s voice?

  “No. But I have a younger cousin, my current heir. Even if I
have children, he will remain high in the ranks of the Family. And your sister has a girl, right?”

  Eteru’s eyes narrowed. “You would force a pairing?”

  Trevon shook his head. “No. If the match does not appeal to either, they will not need to move forward. And, if it does move forward, I will allow your niece to retain the Eteru name and allegiances, though the firstborn of the union will need to remain the Zeynar heir, again assuming I do not have children of my own.”

  Eteru stared at him. It wasn’t often Trevon was able to strike a Family head speechless, and he enjoyed the moment. But there was no time to revel; Blue and most of the prida were who knew where, and he needed that location.

  “If the pairing does not move forward, then we will continue with the alliance, and I will owe you a favor of equal or greater value, which can be set later.” He was tipping his hand, showing the other man just how important this was to him. If Eteru was the man he thought he was, it would simply emphasize Trevon’s stress over the unnatural aspects of the drug. “And, with this… cooperation between our two families, we will have a foothold in every world, open and closed.”

  “I have heard rumors that you have the ear of Finnegan and the Fausts.”

  Trevon waved a negligent hand. “Yes, but those would not be as firm as what we would establish.”

  “Why is this so important to you? And do not brush me off with pretty words of vows to keep and principles to uphold.”

  Trevon thought a moment. The worlds would know soon enough, when the courting moved forward. If he could get it to move forward. “Have you ever met someone for whom you would do it all again?”

  Eteru cocked his head. “Yes.”

  Trevon let the silence build. He didn’t feel he needed to say more.

  The man behind Eteru cleared his throat.

  “What did you find, Frank?”

  “Sir, there is more information here than I can easily absorb in such a short time, but it appears that, while Mr. Zeynar may be exaggerating the evidence behind his conclusions, there is enough to support a strong working theory.”

  Eteru sighed. “That is Frank-speak for he thinks you’re right.” He leaned forward. “I will consider the pairing. I cannot say yes without consulting with the involved parties, but it may be a good match in general. There will be no alliance, though. I do not like the idea of the imbalance of power that would create in the Families. So, I will take the favor. In exchange, I will give you the reported location of Yorik’s manufactory, as well as the nearest village, through which he has been shipping his goods. I will not give you any men, and you will not upset my other operations while you are there. You may gather what you need to prove your case, and you may detain Yorik if you find him. However, unless there is sufficient evidence of what you claim, you will bring no harm to the man.” Then he muttered, lower. “He’s made me a lot of money.”

  “And you will give the location to me now.” Trevon leaned forward as well, matching the other man’s posture of decision.

  Eteru lifted a hand, and Trevon’s comm pinged with an incoming message. He didn’t need to look to know it was the information he sought.

  He rose.

  Eteru rose with him. “A word of warning, Zeynar. Keep her close. Not all are as… sentimental as I.”

  Trevon gave him a wry smile. “I will keep her as close as she will allow.”

  Eteru raised a brow and smiled. “Should I wish you luck?”

  “Please.”

  Eteru inclined his head. “Good luck then. May the winds blow you home.”

  “And the stars guide your way.” A traditional parting, and one he hadn’t seen used in years. Maybe Eteru was someone to spend time with for more than talks of trade and alliances. But that would be for another time. Now, he had a girl and her prida to go rescue.

  He snorted. Won’t the mercenary love that?

  MO’ATA

  The bar was in quiet chaos. Those who would be involved in the operation were in the back, gathered around Demil’s booth and seated at tables that had been pulled close. Those in the know, but who would not be going on to Falass, acted as a buffer against the other bar patrons.

  A slim, dark-haired man approached Mo’ata and Demil where they leaned over a tablet in the booth, studying the coordinates Zeynar had forwarded. The Family head was still a half hour away, but he’d gotten what they needed.

  “Niall,” Demil said. “Good.” He gestured for the man to join them. “Niall’s been the one on the ground, gathering most of the information that we couldn’t get from general reports.”

  Mo’ata inclined his head in greeting, and Niall matched him but didn’t say anything. Good. Mo’ata was not in the mood for polite words.

  “He’ll be with you on this one. I’m also sending Jana. She’ll be able to help with any… females you may find.”

  That made ten, including Trevon.

  A commotion arose in the middle of the bar as an older man pushed his way through the wall of mercenaries that had formed to block him from the booth. A chilling growl also came from the same direction, a growl that usually heralded death. “Better let him through,” Mo’ata called. “Those claws will have you dead in seconds, and the armor will only slow her down for a moment.”

  Then Dean Gravin was there. He’d replaced the red robes of his position with a lightweight shirt, loose cotton pants, soft boots, and gloves. Emila was there beside him, no longer growling, but her eyes darted alertly from person to person. When she spotted Mo’ata, she… nodded?

  “You sure about this?” Mo’ata asked the older man.

  Patrick Gravin snorted. “I’ve got more than one adventure left in me, boy.”

  “Who will transport the team?” Demil cut in.

  “I will,” the dean said. “Anyone else I’d have to argue with for hours, and it doesn’t seem we have that much time, does it? Though with Blue playing around with portals, who knows when she ended, let alone where.”

  Mo’ata jerked. He hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t she shaved off months when she returned to Karran?

  Gravin leaned into him. “If she had the cub to guide her, they are probably well enough on that front.”

  Mo’ata nodded, then turned his attention back to the map. The dean crowded in beside him. After a moment’s study, the Gravin—Piper Boy—pointed. “Here. A bit to the north, the terrain is easier. You don’t want to appear directly in the village or at the compound, and certainly not between the two. If any of the natives spot us and suspect we are connected to the compound, we can’t know what their reaction will be. They are extremely loyal in both their alliances and their enmities.”

  Demil raised a brow.

  “Remind me to get you copies of the tales of the Piper Boy some time,” Mo’ata told him.

  Patrick raised a brow of his own.

  “She wrote them all down as her dad told them to her,” Mo’ata explained.

  “Oh my.” Patrick frowned. “Eh, no matter. Now, when will we leave? And I hope you all will not be wearing that.”

  Chapter 33

  FORREST

  Forrest struggled to open his eyes. Faint beeps and clicks and whooshes surrounded him. The light was low, like the half-twilight that fell as the sun went down behind the buildings of Karran, before true sunset. The smell was wrong though. He sniffed. An antiseptic stung his nostrils. Under that was a musty smell of rotten vegetation and mold.

  Where was he? He strained to open his eyes, but they were tired. He was tired. It would be nice to simply keep them closed. He’d snuggle up with Blue and Vivi and Garfield and they’d get in a nap before it was time to get up and make dinner.

  He lifted a hand to find Vivi and give her a good scr—His hand didn’t move. Neither did the other. He tugged against whatever held his arm and slowly came awake. He tried to roll over, but his feet were held in place as well.

  “Shhh, shhh. Don’t struggle. You’ll just end up hurting yourself. And that will skew the results.”


  The voice was soft and in that mid-tone where it was hard to tell if a guy or woman spoke. A cold, slim hand gripped his left elbow, followed by a pinch.

  “There. If you would like to speak you certainly may. I’d prefer it, actually. Tell me what you experience as the drug takes effect. If you cannot, that is fine as well.” A finger tapped his temple, next to a circle of light pressure.

  He finally pried his eyes open. A shadowed face topped by salt-and-pepper hair peered down at him. Bright lights backlit the figure, and the features were hard to make out.

  The figure shifted, reaching for something behind him, and lamplight washed across his features. It was a man. And he was picking up a syringe from where it sat on a folded white cloth, which sat on a metal tray atop a metal stand. Beyond the man and tray were metal shelves and plain, concrete walls. The shelves were filled with containers and vials, all in cushioned holders and stands.

  Where the fuck was he?

  He tried to sit up but was brought up short by the restraints around his wrists. Padded leather straps wrapped his wrists and ankles, securing him to a metal frame that surrounded the thin, white mattress he lay on.

  Where was Vivi?

  At the thought, he felt her in the back of his mind. She was in the dark and scared, but she was uninjured.

  The attack came back to him. Adrenaline surged, and he jerked against the restraints once again as strength flooded him. It was still useless, but what else were you supposed to do when you were tied down to a bed?

  He craned his neck as far as he could in all directions. Where had that man gone? More metal shelves and concrete walls met his gaze, along with a grouping of machines behind him and to the right, and a tall stand from which a tube ran down into the bend of his elbow.

  “He’s not here. I have him in another room. Again, I don’t want my readings to be off, for either of you.”