by K Bledsoe
The Kelton Cases:
The Lost Princess
By K. A. Bledsoe
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and places are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places or people is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Kristi Doyle
Print ISBN 9781097627431
Contents
The Kelton Cases:
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Chapter Fifty-seven
Chapter Fifty-eight
Chapter Fifty-nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-one
Chapter Sixty-two
Chapter Sixty-three
Chapter Sixty-four
Chapter Sixty-five
Chapter Sixty-six
Chapter Sixty-seven
Chapter Sixty-eight
Chapter Sixty-nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-one
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Dedication
For Dad. Sorry I didn’t get this out in time.
You would have loved it.
Chapter One
Lenore Kelton felt the vibration and consulted the screen on her wristcomp.
Neg 3 lvl. Q.
Lenore was so used to the codes that she translated it without conscious thought: Nothing to report on the third floor. Quinn.
She acknowledged her son and sent her own message back. -1 neg. Main, u 4th which meant there was nothing unusual in the basement, and she would inspect the main floor next while Quinn checked out the fourth level.
A single pulse indicated his reception, and she climbed the stairs to the main floor of the academy. Three schools in this city had been attacked by a lone gunman who opened fire then disappeared before any security was enabled. Eleven people had been killed so far. Her information indicated that this school was next, so she and her son Quinn were scouting ahead. There was a reward that had been posted privately for anyone who could give information on the killer.
Despite being only fifteen years old, it was easy for Quinn to use his talent at disguise to become a transfer student and was on his second day of studies. She had simply signed on as a substitute teacher, since the usual staff had been calling in sick, to nobody’s surprise.
There was plenty of time left in the lunch period to check in with the ship. She tucked her long, light brown hair behind her ear as she tapped her hearing implant twice and gave the subvocal command to call the ship.
“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”
Lenore smiled at her daughter Allison’s cheerful voice. “Things are looking pretty peaceful here. Are you sure this academy is next?”
“Yes. As I already pointed out,” she said with one of her dramatic sighs, “with the previous attacks as a baseline, a sociopath, as I am sure this guy is, has a distinct pattern even though it seems random. Whether an intentional or subconscious pattern is irrelevant. The next attack will be at that school, I am certain.”
Lenore could even hear the smug smile, well-earned since she had seen Allison’s “certain” correct ninety-nine percent of the time. “Ok, I trust your instincts. I will check in again tonight.”
“Sure, Mom.”
Lenore tapped her implant twice again to close the communication and then pressed and held it for a few seconds to activate enhanced hearing. As she resumed her walk toward the main hall, she tried not to be concerned. Allison was talented at figuring out criminal minds, but Lenore worried that by repeatedly doing so, her daughter might become a bit like a sociopath herself.
As Lenore entered the lunchroom, her eyes flicked around as she automatically analyzed and memorized the position of students and teachers. She suppressed a snort of derision at the security guards, weapons holstered and the safety probably on. The precaution was no doubt required in a setting with children but useless in any planned attack. Her gaze landed on a janitor entering the hall pushing a mop in a rolling bucket ahead of him. His worn coveralls and heavy work boots fit in, but her gut and past experiences told her something wasn’t quite right. Her tension rose as instinct kicked in.
It would be here, now.
The janitor reached into the bucket, and Lenore’s earpiece picked up the distinct click of an automatic weapon’s safety being disengaged. She dropped her bag of books on the floor and primed her defenses in a single heartbeat, touching each like a ritual:
Right palm – needle dart with paralyzing drug
Left wrist – gravitic grapple
Necklace – personal body force field
Right foot – electric dampening field
All these mechanical wonders were courtesy of her husband Diarmin, a mastermind at creating machinery that enhanced her natural skills and were camouflaged well, matching her light skin perfectly.
The “janitor” raised a weapon that she recognized as an expensive laser repeater capable of firing at least thirty shots per second.
“All bow to the Enforcer!” he yelled and aimed into the crowd of students and teachers eating lunch.
The expected shots never came. As people dove under tables, Lenore pulled back her right foot and threw her left wrist forward. The tiny grapple snatched the gun out of his hand and flew to hers as her right palm shot out. The gunman grabbed his neck and perceptibly stiffened in reaction to the paralytic dart. Lenore’s right hand returned to hover over her hidden stunner even though she knew it was unnecessary. The electrical field she had activated with her foot kept him from sending or receiving any signals so that he was basically helpless.
But before he fell to the ground, lasers hit him from two different sides, vaporizing over half his body. Lenore cursed under her breath and just barely stopped her reflex of retaliating against the security guards.
Well, there goes my interrogation. Amateurs.
Chapter Two
Diarmin pulled hims
elf along the weightless ship, frustrated.
“Drat that girl,” he muttered to himself. “There’s only so much room on this ship. Where is she?” Not on the bridge where she was supposed to be, nor in her room, or even the bathroom. Diarmin had come from the cargo bay below deck, so the lounge was the last place to look other than the crawl spaces. He heard vague sounds coming from the room ahead.
“Finally,” he muttered to himself.
A shout made him pick up the pace. He pulled himself through the doorway in time to see his daughter on the large viewscreen, a huge club swinging toward her head. Before he could call out, she dodged and fired arrows into the monster, an ogre large enough to tower over Diarmin’s six-foot frame.
“Allison, what are you doing?”
The eleven-year-old started at her father’s voice then pulled off the VR helmet and cursed. “I was winning until you distracted me.” In the weightlessness, her dark springy curls surrounded her head like a corona. That was why Diarmin kept his own black curls cropped short.
“You left the viewscreen on.”
“Oh, oops.” She turned toward the screen, the game tether keeping her in place. With a twitch of her wrist, she used her controller to change from bow and arrows to a sword. The image of Allison, now in full armor, was seen from behind with the ogre staring menacingly as if he could see into the lounge. Allison wielded the control as if it were the sword on the screen and engaged the monster.
“Why are you playing instead of working on the bridge?” Diarmin pushed off and floated across the lounge to grab the VR helmet before it drifted away.
“Mom already checked in,” she said, attention still on the game. “And you know how Mom is. No matter what happens, it will be exactly four hours before she checks in again.” Duck, jab, block.
“And if there is an emergency?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” She swung her arm and the ogre roared. Blood spattered across the screen and background, but both were still fighting. “Besides you know the systems are designed…” Stab. “to override…” Parry. “oof…and inform of emergencies.”
“Alli.” Diarmin sighed, losing patience, but didn’t speak as he saw the ogre bring his club down heavily. Diarmin winced as the image of his daughter crumpled. He knew it wasn’t real, but it still was difficult to see.
“Well, that’ll do it,” said Allison as the character on the screen let out a roar, shaking the club over its head. “Game over. I am getting closer to defeating that ogre, though.”
“Back to the bridge. You are on duty.”
“You said Mom and Quinn wouldn’t be home until tomorrow,” she answered as she stripped off all the gaming equipment, stowing it in a large container before she shut down the game.
“Yes, but I expected you to actually start looking for a new job, so we can have it ready when she gets back.” A quick jerk of his head indicated to his daughter that they should return to the bridge.
Allison rolled her eyes. “That only took me fifteen minutes.” She undid the tether that held her in place while playing in zero gravity and grabbed her personal pad from between the cushions of the couch, stuffed there so it wouldn’t float away. He glanced back as she pulled herself along the corridor behind him and noticed her open a file while absently flitting from hand hold to hand hold. Diarmin took the pad from her and gave a single, practiced yank on the ladder to the bridge, letting physics do the work of propelling him to the level of the bridge. Not taking his eyes off the pad’s screen, he used his foot to stop his upward motion, then pushed away enough to give Allison room.
A large ad was prominent on the screen. “REWARD FOR ANY INFORMATION LEADING TO THE MISSING PRINCESS OF THE PLANET SULOUS.” A brief report with details followed the dramatic headline.
“Not sure if this is a case, Alli. Let’s see the date… Allison, this ad is over seventeen years old! It’s original posting was a year before that.”
“Yes, but look.” She bobbed up beside him, grabbed a handhold and pointed at the top of the report. “It was updated five days ago with a new contact and even a bonus if delivered within the time indicated right there.” Her finger moved to the relevant phrase. “The reward money would cover what we need to repair or even replace our grav plates with plenty to spare.” She retrieved the pad and floated to her personal console next to the navigation board, both stations closest to the viewscreen.
“But someone missing for eighteen years? What are the chances there’s any sort of trail left for us to pick up?” Another push of his foot and Diarmin was at the command console in the center of the bridge. The command chair was named so because it had complicated boards built into it as well as on both sides of the chair. A person seated there could access any system. One tap by Diarmin indicated their yacht, a remodeled cargo ship, was still in the same spot as it had been for the past three days, in a stationary orbit of a moon of one of the outer planets of the Gruis system. Close enough for communication with his wife and son currently on the planet Carmal, but far enough from detection by planetary security.
“Hey, I thought we were the best. You wanted ‘not dangerous and pays well’ so there you go.” Allison shrugged. “Besides, I already downloaded the original files from the local law enforcement and can pick out several places to start digging.” She grinned as she rapidly rubbed her hands together.
Diarmin shook his head. “What have I told you about breaking into systems?”
Allison put on her most innocent face. “Don’t get caught?” She laughed and turned back to her console, fingers already madly typing. Diarmin smiled and felt extremely proud of his young, genius daughter. He didn’t want to think what shenanigans she would get up to when she hit puberty.
Chapter Three
“Would you mind explaining yourself?” Lenore demanded of the principal after what was left of the body was carted off and students and teachers were sent home. The principal had insisted they return to his office for privacy and she was now seated facing him across his desk. In the other two chairs were the hired security guards who had committed the wasteful act.
“I think you need to explain a few things first,” he responded as two additional local police officers entered to stand behind her.
Lenore ignored the show of force and raised her chin slightly, deciding to take the offensive. “You were informed by your superiors to stand down, that someone would be undercover and handle any situation, were you not?”
“Well, yes, but…”
“And by ignoring those instructions, you ruined the operation.”
“Now see here…” The principal was turning red, but Lenore didn’t care. “I didn’t want my students in danger, young lady.”
“They were not in danger.” Lenore gritted her teeth to keep her temper in check, especially after the “young lady” remark. “I have been hired by a private service to bring in the shooter.” A lie since Lenore only worked for herself, but it never hurt to pretend someone else was giving the orders.
“Security handled it just fine,” said the principal.
“You aren’t listening. I was supposed to bring in the man. Your people made that impossible.”
“But now that the crazy loner is dead, the threat is neutralized. The case is solved, and schools can rest easy.”
“On the contrary, the academies need to be even more afraid now,” said Lenore, taking little pleasure in the principal’s look of total confusion. She sighed and continued. “I am not at liberty to discuss details, but that shooter was just a pawn, a front for another, more dangerous, organization.”
“Who?” asked one of the security guards, the woman who had fired first. Lenore turned her head to look at her with clear disdain.
“We will never know now, will we? Because someone had an itchy trigger finger.”
The woman’s face darkened, and she opened her mouth to retort, but the principal waved his hand to cut her off.
“What makes you think there is an organization behind t
his and not just one lunatic who had a grudge against schools?”
Is this oaf worth my time and patient explanations of all the legwork my family and I have put in? Lenore considered for all of half a second. “That is privileged information, and I am not required to share any of it with you or these people.” She flicked her wrist to indicate security guards and law enforcers alike.
“On what authority?”
“On my authority as a Xa’ti’al.”
Silence fell over the group, with one gurgle which might have been a laugh forced back.
Lenore smiled inwardly. There was always some who wanted to laugh but didn’t dare. For fear of reprisal or out of respect for the mercenary group, it didn’t matter. She sat quietly, waiting for the others to speak first. Her bet was on the principal. The officers behind her shuffled their feet and in doing so backed away a little.
“That’s…ahem.”
I win, she thought as the principal cleared his throat of a squeak.
“That’s impossible. The Xa’ti’al are just a myth.”
“Perhaps, or perhaps not. Regardless, you are in my way and keeping me from doing my job.” Everyone else visibly paled at that. “And have made it a lot harder.” Lenore stood, taking advantage of the paralysis that seemed to afflict people whenever the Xa’ti’al was mentioned. “If you are finished spouting nonsense, I need to finish the job.” She spun and exited without looking back.
Five steps down the hall her wrist vibrated. She glanced at the message which was fully printed out now that they were not in alert status.
Nice, Mom. Why didn’t you just pull out a gun? Probably would have scared them less.
Lenore grinned. She should have known Quinn would have an ear in the room. She sent a quick note back.
Get the info?
Of course. Also, extraction completed. See you at the hotel.
Lenore double tapped an acknowledgment and continued. The mission at this school was finished, and Quinn had taken care of clearing documents and any other indication that they had been there, including recording devices or photos. He was exceptional at nonexistentence.
