by Robyn Bachar
“Enemy fighters have scrambled and are moving on our position,” Loren warned.
“Acknowledged, Lieutenant,” Captain Hawke said. “I’m keeping the weapons’ power diverted to shields and engines. We’ll try to outrun them as long as possible.”
“Morningstar squadron is holding in escort formation,” Andee said. The captain had allowed her on the bridge to monitor the fighters, but Malcolm wished she could have sat with him. Andee had a knack for keeping him calm.
Closing his eyes, Malcolm filtered their conversation out, trusting the crew to their business as he focused on his. He zeroed in on the lead ship as his entry point to their network, and then began picking at its security code like plucking at the strings of a harp, trying to find the right melody.
Malcolm gasped as the music shrieked—the Talon II rocked from the impact of a laser blast against their shields.
“Neural activity spike,” Galen yelped. “I’m narrowing your bandwidth.”
“Don’t. I’m fine,” Malcolm assured him. “I need full access. Keep a lookout for sniffer programs if you need an activity.”
A chord chimed as Malcolm gained access to the Syndicate ship. He uploaded his standard set of viruses to disrupt their systems, mask his presence and erase his trail. Malcolm studied their network, pondering his next step. Usually he breached a system, downloaded the data he needed and left. He’d never attempted to gain control of another system like this before. Captain Hawke and the ship’s chief engineer, Samlen, had given him suggestions on ways to aid their escape. The most obvious changes would also be the most difficult—like attempting to disable the enemy’s weapons or engines, or initiating a self-destruct sequence. Changes that noticeable would draw attention within a matter of seconds. Instead he focused on a single area of the weapons systems: the identify friend/foe code.
The Talon II shuddered again, and Malcolm’s heart leapt as the aft shields failed. Almost afraid to breathe, he altered the code and set it to transmit from ship to ship. It would take a few moments before initiating, but once it did the Syndicate ships would read the Talon II and the Morningstar fighters as allies, and be unable to fire on them.
Pain exploded through Malcolm and he convulsed with a scream. Dear God, had he been shot? No, the ship was.
“Disengaging from the data stream,” Galen barked.
Normally Malcolm would argue with his handler and assure him that he’d be fine, but he tasted blood on his tongue and decided to let it go. “Changes uploaded,” he ground out, and then descended into silent darkness.
∆∆∆
After the ship’s doctor had ushered Malcolm to the medical bay, Galen had recruited Captain Hawke’s aid to contact Malcolm’s master, Archivist de la Cruz. The Collective had resources that could be vital to the mission’s success, and as Malcolm’s handler, Galen felt that it was his duty to negotiate with the archivist to restore Malcolm’s access. The captain left to oversee repairs to her ship, leaving Galen to speak with the archivist in private. The lights blinked from red to green on the comm. panel set into Captain Hawke’s desk, signaling that a secure connection had been established.
“Greetings, Lord Degalen. I trust you are calling for instructions on how to return my property.” The vid screen remained dark—apparently Archivist de la Cruz didn’t trust anyone with his image.
“Malcolm is not property. He is a free citizen of Cyprena.”
“According to the latest reports, Cyprena is no longer a free world. Lord Bildanen has returned your planet to the Syndicate, under his rule as High Lord.”
Galen scowled, imagining wringing Bildanen’s traitorous neck. “Lord Bildanen’s rule is not recognized by my house. But I did not contact you to discuss Cy’ren politics.”
Chuckling crackled over the speakers. “No, you called to bargain for keeping Malcolm yourself. I understand that both you and Lady Andelynn are fond of young Malcolm. He is quite…entertaining, but he is not for sale. Malcolm is too valuable for me to part with.”
A growl rumbled from Galen’s chest, but he bit his temper back. Of course Andee was fond of Malcolm. Everyone was fond of him—he was shy but endearing, and tempting in ways that a Cy’ren lord should certainly not think about.
“I require Malcolm’s aid, and he requires access to the Collective in order to provide that aid. What will it take to restore his access?”
“Return him to me, and I will restore his access.”
“Unacceptable.”
“Malcolm is my property. That is non-negotiable. I could be persuaded to lease him to you, for, say, six standard months,” the archivist proposed. “That should be long enough for you to conduct your business, but after that I will collect my property.”
Galen’s jaw dropped. “No. I granted him asylum. He is a free man.”
“You are in no position to grant anyone asylum at the moment. Think of it as buying his access to the Collective, if it pleases you. A subscription fee. At the end of his task for you, he will be returned. This is the only deal I am willing to make.”
Galen muted the comm. and rubbed his face with his hands. Galen abhorred slavery—it had torn his family apart, stolen his mother and his younger sisters. But without the cure to the Lazarus bioweapon, the Alliance could fall, and without the Alliance’s support, Cyprena would stay in Lord Bildanen’s hands. Everything that the resistance had fought for would be destroyed. It would all be for nothing—the years of struggle, his family’s murder.
“Well, Lord Degalen. What do you say?”
He swallowed hard. “How much?”
“Let’s make it an even million credits. I’m sure his aid will be quite worth it.”
The fee was a fortune, but it was within Galen’s means to pay it—the benefits of lordship—and it was a small price to pay to save his world from Lord Bildanen’s greed.
“Very well.” The words were bitter, and Galen scowled at their taste.
“Excellent. I’m transmitting an account number now. When I have confirmation of the payment, I’ll restore Malcolm’s access.”
The connection broke, and Galen hung his head. By all the gods, what had he done? A necessary evil, he tried to convince himself, but it was evil nonetheless. Galen would pay the fee, but he would never allow Malcolm to be forced back into slavery.
For now, perhaps it was best that Malcolm not know about the money. The data miner had enough on his mind with the search for the Lazarus cure. There was no point in worrying him over the archivist’s threat when it would never come to pass.
Galen set up the transfer of funds before clearing the comm. record and retreating to his quarters. He needed time alone to think, and to repent his sins.
∆∆∆
Andee smiled at Malcolm. “Do you feel better?”
“Yes, thank you. It really was nothing. I’ve fainted before. It happens.” Malcolm ducked his head with a sheepish blush.
The ship’s doctor, a human woman named Dr. Morgan, had cleared him, but warned that he needed rest. Loneliness had washed over him then, and Andee ached at it. He didn’t want to be alone, and Andee couldn’t bear the thought of sending him back to his quarters by himself.
Andee turned to Dr. Morgan. “I’ll monitor him. Is he all right to leave now?”
“Yes, of course. But I want you to contact me if you have any headaches or shortness of breath,” the doctor advised, and Malcolm nodded obediently.
Andee took Malcolm’s arm and gently steered him out of the medical bay and to the ship’s guest quarters. The Talon II was a modified civilian transport, and she and Galen had been given one of the largest available rooms, second only to the captain’s quarters. Captain Hawke had offered them her quarters, but Andee and Galen had refused.
“My room is this way,” Malcolm said. “At least I think it is. I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“It is. I made note of it.” Andee keyed the door open for him. “May I come in? I have a matter to discuss with you, if you have the energy f
or it.”
“Yes, please.” Malcolm ushered her in and waved her to the seat at the cabin’s desk. “I really am fine. I’ve passed out like that before. It’s nothing.”
Andee took the offered chair, and Malcolm sat on the edge of his bunk. His color seemed good—for a human at least—though she worried about the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Have you been sleeping well?”
“No, but that’s normal. It’s hard to shut my brain off. I see code streams when I close my eyes. What’s on your mind?”
Andee studied Malcolm’s frenetic energy. His mind was like a VFF drive and his thoughts moved faster than light, but he looked upon her with such faith and trust that no one else ever had. Would he still trust her if he knew she was a liathlinn? Did humans have tales of murderous monsters that devoured the souls of the innocent? She shook the thought away and concentrated on the matter at hand.
“I want to ask for your help with something.” Andee folded her hands in her lap. “It is your decision whether you wish to participate. I won’t be upset if you refuse, and the conversation will remain between us. Confidential, as it were.”
He nodded slowly, his brow furrowed. “You want me to perform a data search for you?”
“No, this is a personal matter. You recall our conversation about the kiss you shared with Galen?” she asked, and he nodded. “I believe that he is as attracted to you as you are to him, but he is terrified of the damage to his reputation that would happen if he acted on it. That conflict is wearing on him. I want to help him. He should be comfortable with his desires, not tortured by them.”
“Okay…how can I help?”
“If you are willing, I would like you to join us as sort of an unofficial mate.”
Malcolm’s jaw dropped. “Oh. I…really? Galen—I mean Lord Degalen—is okay with that?”
“I haven’t spoken to him about it. I wanted to be certain that you would consent to such a thing first. I’m concerned that you haven’t had a chance to say no before, and I don’t want to pressure you. Galen may refuse the idea, but I hope he won’t. He needs this. I think we all do. I’m worried that…” Andee trailed off and shook her head, her throat tight with emotion.
“That what?” Malcolm prompted.
“I have many worries.” Andee forced a weak smile. “Cy’ren politics are complicated and cutthroat, as you’ve seen firsthand. House Sunsinger is one of the largest, wealthiest houses on Cyprena, and all of that responsibility has weighed on Galen’s shoulders since he was a child. He has no children, no other mates, and most importantly no heirs. Talena cannot inherit, so if Galen falls in battle the house will likely follow, and thousands of Cy’ren will suffer. As his only mate, I must give him a son, and I can’t do that if he isn’t comfortable with sex.”
“Okay. I get that you want this for him. Do you want this for you? I mean, do you even like me?” Malcolm’s voice cracked a bit as he asked the question, and Andee found it charming.
“Of course I do, a’mhain. I think you’re quite attractive. For a human,” she teased, and he blushed. “Do you enjoy the company of females?”
“I’ve been with more men than women, but there was a girl once—woman,” he corrected, and then sighed. “Well, no, we were teenagers. She was a girl, I was a boy, and we were crazy in love with each other, but we were both slaves. Her name was Kai. You remind me of her. You’re smart and strong, like she was, and she always looked after me, too. Kai was the first person who ever cared about me.”
“What happened to her?” Andee asked gently.
“The Archivist killed her. Kai hated him, and she was always trying to escape, and he said—” Malcolm’s voice broke, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “The Archivist said she was too valuable to sell and too dangerous to keep. So he killed her.”
His heartbreak was deep, the pain raw and aching, and Andee crossed to embrace Malcolm. “I’m so sorry.”
They sat in silence for a long moment, and then he nodded. “I want to try. Not because I have to, but because I want to.”
“Thank you.” Andee brushed a quick kiss against his cheek. “He may refuse, but I am grateful that you’re willing to try. Will you stay with us tonight? I did promise the doctor that I would watch over you. Perhaps we can coax Galen into just sleep for now.”
“Sleep is fine. I hate sleeping alone.”
“Will you need to bring anything from your quarters? A change of clothes?” Andee glanced around, but the room was bare.
“No. These are the only clothes I have.”
She quirked a brow at his ragged, mismatched attire. “What happened to the clothing you received at the manor?”
“Oh. Was I supposed to keep them? They’re yours.”
“No, those clothes are yours,” she corrected. “They were a gift. I’ll see that you receive more when we return home.”
“Home,” he repeated, a note of melancholy in his voice.
Andee squeezed his arm. “You’re welcome to live in the Sunsinger enclave, if you’d like.”
“Maybe.”
“All right. Let’s go shock his lordship.”
Malcolm laughed as she drew him to his feet, out of the room and led him down the corridor to the quarters she shared with Galen. Andee unlocked and keyed open the door, and she drew Malcolm in behind her. Galen looked up from the data console, his lavender brow furrowed as he spied the indexer.
“How are you feeling?” Galen asked Malcolm.
“Better,” Malcolm said.
“I would like Malcolm to sleep here with us tonight so we can monitor him. Will you consent to that?” Andee asked.
“I…I think I have missed something,” Galen said. “You want him to stay here?”
“Yes. To sleep, if you will agree to it,” she repeated matter-of-factly. “We’ve all had a difficult day, and we need to rest before we meet with the Alliance ships. If Malcolm stays here I can be certain that both of you get decent sleep.”
“Oh. There is sense in that, but I’m not certain of the propriety.” Galen’s tone was cautious and his energy was as guarded as his expression, but he didn’t seem angry or afraid. Andee took that as an encouraging sign.
“I see nothing improper about sleep. Everyone will be fully clothed. I think we’re all too exhausted for impropriety.” She smiled, and Galen blushed. “Besides, it is no one’s business but our own what happens here. Even if the crew were to gossip, this ship is captained by your sister’s mate. I’m sure Captain Hawke could quash any rumors.”
“But if you wanted to be inappropriate, we’re okay with that, too,” Malcolm blurted. He yanked his spectacles off and began frantically polishing the lenses with the hem of his shirt. “I mean, if you did want to explore—no, not explore. Experience, maybe. Here’s the thing: you’re a lord on Cyprena, but we’re not on Cyprena. On this ship I’m just a data miner, you’re my handler, and Andee is…well, a gorgeous, sexy woman. So if we wanted to share the same bed, that’s okay, because no one here will care, and even if they do talk, Captain Hawke will threaten to space them out an airlock. She said that to Jace a lot,” he added as an aside to Andee.
Andee laughed. “I don’t doubt it.”
Galen stared at her in shock. “You approve of this? You’re a lord’s daughter. Of all people, you should understand the consequences of such an affair. What game are you playing?”
“No game, my lord, I swear.” Andee held her hands up in a placating gesture. “Above all else, I am an aleithir. There is powerful desire between you and Malcolm. You should indulge it, not deny it.”
“Indulge in an affair with another male? Are you mad? The scandal would ruin me. Would ruin us.”
“As Malcolm said, you’re not a lord here, so there is no scandal. Now, we’re all going to be honest with each other. I’ll start. I care for you and Malcolm. I want you to be happy. You’ve both spent your lives sacrificing your own needs for those of the people around you. It’s time that you be allowed to have something for you
rselves.”
Galen eyed her with suspicion. “Without regard for the consequences?”
“Your sister is mated to a human, and the galaxy did not implode,” Andee pointed out, and he scowled.
“That is different. Talena and Carmen are females.”
“Why can females be together but not males?” Malcolm asked. “And what’s an alley-fear?”
“Aleithir,” she corrected. “It means that I am an empath. I can sense the emotions of others.”
“Really?” Malcolm donned his specs and peered at her. “That’s fascinating. Like receiving the emotional data broadcast by everyone around you. Can you—”
“The matter is entirely different from Talena’s situation,” Galen interrupted, and his voice jumped a distressed octave.
“The matter is entirely ancient,” Andee countered. “We’re told that the old gods disapproved of relations between men, but the temples disapproved, not the gods. The priests wanted to make sure that the ruling lines continued without question. A male with only female mates could be certain that his children were of his blood, but a male with a mix of male and female mates couldn’t be certain who fathered his children. And that fear has no grounds today. One blood test and you would have the answer to a child’s heritage moments later. Besides, Malcolm cannot impregnate me because he is human, so no one need worry about that.”
Galen shook his head. “Logical as that argument is, it won’t undo centuries of tradition.”
“Then perhaps it is time that tradition changed,” Andee said. “Slavery was also tradition until the peace accords. Many Cy’ren males enjoy the company of other males in private. I have witnessed it myself countless times among the shadow swords in the barracks. As I said, they fight hard and fuck hard, usually with one another. I was somewhat of a novelty.”
Andee smiled dryly, and a jealous growl rumbled from Galen’s chest. He darted forward, grabbed her wrists and hauled his mate against his chest. “You are mine,” he reminded.
“As am I,” Malcolm said softly. The Cy’ren both blinked at him, and Malcolm ducked his head, sheepish. “I mean, I could be. I want to be with you. Both of you.”
