by Robyn Bachar
“I had an apartment near the barracks.” Bryn waved in the general direction, but the building wasn’t visible from their current location. “I’m sure someone else rented it after I was reported dead. I wonder what happened to my stuff. Not that I had much of anything.”
“You will now,” he promised.
“I just need you and Sabine.”
Jace grinned, the expression lasting until they reached their destination.
In her time as a shadow sword Bryn had seen the lord of House Wintersend a handful of times from a distance. She had never paid much attention to politics; ironic, for the new lady of a ruling house. Sabine would be better at the politics angle, because as an aleithir she had an advantage. Lady Andee would have an edge in that as well, so maybe it was for the best that Lord Degalen had picked her.
The Winter lords stood united in their disdain for Jace, but he bowed deeply.
“Greetings, my lords. I am Najacen Harrow, lord of House Morningstar. I have come to ask for your aid.”
Lord Trickane of House Wintersend stepped forward first. “Lord Najacen. My condolences on your loss. Before you entreat us to join your fight against Lord Bildanen, I would like to know more about your recent ties to my house.”
Bryn swallowed a sarcastic snort. Of course he wanted to know about her new job. Ruling lords didn’t take mates from lesser houses—they probably never met anyone from a lesser house, male or female.
“Lieutenant Viera has done me the honor of becoming my mate, and she is now lady of my house,” Jace confirmed.
“We have mate marks and everything,” Bryn said dryly. “He even saved my life a few times.”
“I see,” Lord Trickane said. “Lieutenant, our house is glad to have you home. We have lost too many good shadow swords.”
Too many shadow swords, period, but she didn’t correct him. Bryn bowed her head in silent agreement, but then Lord Hanzeus of House Icefall spoke up.
“I see no reason why we should involve ourselves in the high council’s war.”
Bryn’s eyes narrowed. “No? When Lord Bildanen comes looking for new slaves to sell to the Syndicate, who do you think he will target first? He won’t be selling Nightfall’s children.”
“He has not declared war against Winter City,” Hanzeus countered.
“Has he approached you? Made you his allies?” Jace asked.
The cold silence that followed confirmed that he hadn’t. Bryn felt grim reassurance in knowing that she had correctly predicted that one. Bildanen wasn’t going to rebuild the ruling council. He didn’t need to as High Lord. With the Lazarus weapon at his disposal, he could threaten the other houses into submission.
“And you would make us your allies, Lord Najacen?” Trickane asked.
“Of course. Any house that aids us in overthrowing Lord Bildanen will earn a seat on the ruling council once he is defeated,” Jace said.
“I suppose we have your word on that. I have another proposal. We will grant you our aid, if you promise us each one of your sisters as a mate. Three lords, three sisters. It almost seems like fate.” Trickane smiled thinly.
“Two sisters,” Bryn corrected. “Lady Andelynn is mated to Lord Degalen of House Sunsinger.”
“How fortunate for Lord Degalen,” Hanzeus said. “In that case, as House Wintersend has a tie to your house, then your two remaining sisters can be matched with myself and Lord Kalduye.”
Bryn noticed the vein twitching in Jace’s forehead—this wasn’t a price they had been prepared to pay.
“I am not comfortable with matching my sisters with two males they have never met.” Jace’s voice was tight but his tone still cordial. “Lord Degalen courted them for several months before picking Andelynn as his mate. I will not insist on such a long courtship for yourselves, but I do ask that you meet them before making such an important decision.”
“That’s quite romantic of you,” Trickane said.
“Perhaps. Taking Brynnaren as my mate has taught me the value of such things. I was recently enlightened to the fact that such matches are not fair to either party. Both mates should be allowed to choose each other, otherwise we are no better than the slavers who prey on our people. I’m certain that Lord Bildanen would not hesitate to hand over whoever or whatever you asked for in payment for your aid. But it is the value that we place upon Cy’ren lives that separates us from him. My sisters are precious to me, and I will not sell them for any price. If you can’t accept that, then I do not want your aid.”
Lord Kalduye eyed Jace, then chuckled. “Wise words for one so young. I am willing to accept those terms. It would help keep the peace in my household if my mates were able to meet and approve of a new female before I brought her home.”
“I can agree to those terms as well,” Lord Hanzeus said. “How can we be of assistance, Lord Najacen?”
Jace exhaled and squared his shoulders. “Our team intends to infiltrate the Nightfall manor and assassinate Lord Bildanen. We need access to the smuggling tunnels connecting your city to his. A distraction of some sort would also be helpful, but we won’t ask your people to risk their lives needlessly.”
Hex stepped forward, representing the local shadow swords. “I believe we can help with that. We can set some explosive charges, create a diversion that he can’t ignore.”
“Excellent,” Bryn said. “Where do we start?”
Chapter Fourteen
Andee fought the urge to check the shuttle’s control panel again. Lieutenant Loren was allowing her to fly with him, but he still seemed to mistrust her. Thankfully he was smart enough to avoid sassing her with his lord seated in the cabin behind them. Though Galen was probably too focused on keeping Malcolm from finding a way to fidget a hole through his new armor to notice if Loren said anything.
“The Talon II is disengaging VFF drive in ten seconds,” Loren announced. “Prepare for quick launch.”
“Yes, sir. All shuttle systems are green,” Andee replied. It was a tough little shuttle, but it didn’t have its own VFF drive, so they would be launching from the Talon II’s shuttle bay once the ship arrived in the deGrasse system. Their ships had surprise on their side, and should be able to form up their attack before the Eppes could scramble their fighters.
Lieutenant Loren counted down the remaining seconds, and then the ship shuddered around them as real space took hold.
“Hawke’s Wing, you are clear to launch,” Captain Hawke said over the comm.
“Acknowledged. Launching now,” Andee replied.
The shuttle’s thrusters engaged and they lifted from the deck. The ship zipped up and out into the blackness of space, and they entered a diamond formation with the Alliance’s fighters. The resistance ships like the Talon II looked clunky and out of place compared to the sleek, shining Alliance craft, as if the ragtag Cy’ren fleet might rattle apart at any moment.
“Scanners are identifying enemy targets now,” Andee announced.
“Too bad the indexer can’t pull that IFF spoof he did on Cyprena,” Soth said.
“Sorry,” Malcolm replied. “I couldn’t even if I was jacked in. A good miner never pulls the same trick twice. Keeps the marks on their toes.”
“Makes sense. Like how you don’t want to repeat the same moves in a fight. Your opponent figures out your pattern,” Soth said. “You’re pretty useful, Malcolm. Are you going to stay with our house?”
“Yeah, I, umm…” Malcolm trailed off.
“Malcolm will be staying with Lord Degalen and me as our mate,” Andee replied.
Soth leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Really?”
“Yes. I require at least two males to pleasure me. Morningstar females are notorious for their voracious sexual appetites. Didn’t you know?” Andee said sweetly.
“Well damn, I’ve been serving the wrong house,” Soth said.
“If you buy Commander Maysen a drink when we get back, he’ll tell you all about it.”
“That’s reason to live right there,” Soth said. A few of the othe
r men snickered, and Andee rolled her eyes. Males.
“That’s not why,” Galen piped up.
“Right,” Malcolm agreed, “but she is kind of voracious.”
“All right, settle down back there,” Loren warned. “Approaching weapons range.”
“Aye sir. Weapons are hot. Acquiring target locks now.” With a tight smile Andee punched the weapons controls and fired on an enemy defense drone, blowing it into tiny pieces.
Captain Hawke’s voice barked an order over the comm. for all ships to engage.
“Line them up for me, Lieutenant,” Andee said. “Let’s see how well the Eppes can dance.”
“She’s awesome,” Malcolm said, and then he cursed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to say that over the comm. I’ll be quiet now.”
Andee smiled as Lieutenant Loren shushed them again, and the shuttle sped into battle.
The drones were easy targets, meant to discourage wayward traders, not military vessels. Most of the enemy ships seemed to be transport-sized or larger, but the Hawke’s Wing wasn’t going to tangle with them. Their mission was to punch through the enemy ships and land on the surface outside of the facility’s defenses.
“Hostile target lock,” Andee warned as a red light flashed on her panel.
“I see them. Initiating evasive maneuvers.”
Loren spun the shuttle in a series of loops and rolls that made the inertial compensators whine in protest, but they dodged the incoming laser fire. He was good, Andee had to give him that, though Jace was better. The Hawke’s Wing shuddered as a Syndicate ship blasted apart near them.
“Too close,” Loren muttered.
Andee nodded in silent agreement, and then a series of lights and alarms shrieked to life. “Missile lock,” she snapped.
“From which ship?” Loren asked.
“From the surface.”
“That’s impossible. We’re out of range,” he argued.
Andee growled as she launched a burst of chaff to counter the missile. “Tell that to the missile about to cook us.”
The incoming missile lost its lock as it encountered the chaff, the sensors confused by the cloud, but then a second missile locked on. Andee cursed and tried to target the missile with the shuttle’s lasers.
“They could have upgraded their surface-to-air missiles with range extenders,” Malcolm said. His voice was high and thin, but she had no time to comfort him.
“What’s the distance on the extenders?” Loren asked.
“Umm…” Malcolm trailed off, and Andee could almost hear him fidgeting behind her as he struggled to remember. “Well how close are we now?”
“Too close. Brace for impact,” she warned.
The missile slammed into the Hawke’s Wing’s shields, obliterating them as shrapnel tore into their hull. Alarms shrieked from every speaker, but Andee’s helmet dulled the noise. The armor protected her from the smoke that billowed from somewhere in the cabin. It was almost impossible to see through the smoke or to feel the control panel through her gauntlets. The panic from the others swamped her with terror, and she shoved her psychic shields into place. The pilot’s seat was silent—no words or emotions emanating from it—and with a grunt of effort Andee reached over and found the toggle that vented the shuttle’s cabin. All of the passengers wore full armor, and weren’t affected by the sudden loss of atmo.
With the air clear again, Andee discovered that Lieutenant Loren was unconscious. The indicator lights on his breastplate blinked green and yellow—alive but injured.
“Flight status?” Soth asked.
“Loren is down,” she said. “I’m taking over flight control.”
Andee transferred flight control to her panel, and vid screens lit up with angry, flashing red warnings. Not good, but manageable. The engines were dead on the port side, causing the shuttle to spin. Thank the gods that the grav generators and inertia compensators were still online, otherwise they’d all be vomiting in their suits.
“Severe damage, but I can get us planet-side.” More or less, she added silently. It was going to be a rough ride.
A short, faint burst of light outside the viewport signaled the end of one of their escorts. Damn it, now she needed to fly and fight. She tried to contact the fighter squadron and found that the shuttle’s comm. was dead.
She thumped one gauntleted fist against the control panel above her head and sparks showered from it, but a few of the warnings vanished. The shields blinked back on, and Andee hauled on the flight stick and got the ship straightened out. The stick was slow and sluggish, like trying to drag the ship through an ocean of wet sand.
The alarms changed in pitch, warning of another target lock from the surface. Gritting her teeth, she tried to fire on the missile and found that the lasers were offline.
“Shit,” she cursed.
“Problem?” Soth shot back.
“Working on it.”
Andee dumped power into the engines and ran them as hot as they would go. The ship shuddered and protested around them as panels sparked and smoked. She looped and rolled drunkenly, but the missile stuck to them like glue. With a growl of frustration she turned and dove for the planet, hoping to lose it in the atmosphere, or at least take out some of the base’s cannons when they crashed and burned.
Andee’s heart pounded as the missile streaked closer, and the shuttle went from shudders to rattles, chattering Andee’s teeth as the ship threatened to fly apart. The clouds parted, and she spotted the bulky metal structure of the facility producing the cure—and the bright blue seawater of the ocean next to it.
“Prep for a water landing.”
The straps of her seat kept her from being tossed around like a doll as the shuttle skidded and splash-landed. The missile that had been pursuing them hit the water a few meters away and exploded, showering shrapnel over the already ragged shuttle. Panels that had been spewing smoke began spraying seawater. Andee groaned, the taste of blood bitter in her mouth, and she struggled out of her harness.
“Everyone still with me?” she called out.
“Yeah,” Soth said. “No offense, my lady, but you land as good as your brother.”
Andee snorted. “Pop the hatch.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Andee? Are you all right?” Galen asked.
“I’m fine, a’gra. Help Malcolm evacuate. I’ll be right behind you. Soth is going to aid me with Lieutenant Loren.”
Andee leaned over and fumbled with the releases for Dack’s harness. Water rushed in as Soth opened the hatch, sloshing around Andee’s ankles as the team abandoned ship. When Dack was free she grabbed an arm and pulled it around her shoulder.
“He’s fucking heavy,” she grunted, staggering under the weight.
Soth shoved the remaining team members through the hatch and then helped her haul Dack to safety. “He’s a wiry son of a bitch,” Soth agreed.
They escaped the sinking ship only to drop to the bottom themselves. Andee had never been so grateful for her armor—it was clunky and confining, and the only reason she was still alive. The team had geared up in it to prevent being infected by possible exposure to toxins or bioweapons, and now the armor prevented them from asphyxiation and drowning.
“This is kind of neat. Like deep sea diving,” Malcolm said.
“It’s going to slow us down,” Soth grumbled.
“Just think of it as putting the marine in marines,” Andee replied.
Someone groaned—Lieutenant Loren, back from unconsciousness. “Lady Andee, did you crash my mate’s shuttle?” he asked.
“Technically you crashed it, because you didn’t evade that missile,” she corrected.
Loren groaned again. “She’s going to be pissed.”
“Nah. She’ll be so happy to see you that she’ll forget all about it,” Andee assured him.
“I’ll buy her a new one,” Galen added. “To go with the Talon II.”
“Just keep trudging,” Andee said. “At least we’ll have the element of surprise when we
get there.”
Chapter Fifteen
“You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Harrow,” Bryn commented.
“I try to be creative,” Jace replied dryly.
The smuggling tunnels were dark and low-ceilinged, meant for small automated cargo sleds, not a squad of Cy’ren in full armor. From there they emerged into the maintenance tunnels beneath the city, which were also cramped, dark and slippery with gods only knew what, thanks to leaking sewage pipes. Jace was grateful for the air-recycling system in his suit, because he had no desire to know what the corridors smelled like. When he got back he intended to acid wash every inch of his armor.
“There are many lovely places in the Morningstar city,” he said. “The art museum has a collection of pieces from throughout the galaxy.”
“Sabine will like that. She is fond of pretty things,” Bryn replied, a mischievous note in her voice. Jace blushed behind the tinted visor of his helmet.
“Coming up on a security door. Care to do the honors, Viera?” Commander Maysen asked.
“On it,” Bryn replied. “Pity we didn’t bring Malcolm.”
Jace smirked. “I doubt he would appreciate the scenery, either.”
“I don’t know.” Bryn pulled the door’s access panel off and began stripping wires and reconnecting them. “This is about on par with a jump station. Just add in some nic smoke and bitchy spacers and he’d feel right at home.”
“How long were you on the jump station?” Commander Maysen asked.
“Too long,” she muttered in reply.
Jace flexed his fists and his jaw clenched as he remembered how he had found the females naked and afraid on the jump station. Bryn had been leading them to freedom, wielding a fallen mercenary’s sword and pistol while wearing nothing but a stolen jacket. She was brave and fierce, a great leader. Bryn deserved to be the lady of House Morningstar, and Jace was determined to see that happen.
“Got it.” The door slid open, and they continued on.
They reached the area beneath the manor and paused, waiting to receive the signal to continue. It didn’t take long, and was damn impressive. The earth shook and rumbled with an ominous tremor as the Winter team destroyed a nearby power transfer station. The few lights in the corridor died, and Maysen manually opened the door before the backup power kicked on. The team jogged down a hallway toward an access stairwell and entered the manor.
