Shades of Allegiance

by Sandy Williams

  Tahn relaxed back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “You are remarkable. Are you certain you don’t want to eradicate the loyalty training?”

  “The factions,” she said. “Talk.”

  A door behind her opened. She maintained eye contact with Tahn. A moment before someone stepped into view, a savory spice filled the air.

  A waiter set a dome-topped plate in front of Tahn. Another set one in front of her and Rykus, who’d returned to his seat. Then, simultaneously, the servers uncovered the dishes. A seared, boneless meat coated in a dark, crisped rub bumped up against bright greens and an orange spiraled vegetable interspersed with red half-moons.

  “Wine?” Tahn asked.

  “Water,” she and Rykus said in unison.

  Tahn picked up a fork and knife and cut into the meat.

  Ash’s leg began jumping under the table. Impatience kicked around in her stomach. Or maybe that was hunger. She didn’t feel like eating, but with her metabolism and the injuries her body was still working to heal, she needed to. But she needed Tahn to finish the damn conversation.

  She pushed her plate away, propped her arms on the table, and waited.

  Tahn watched her as he chewed. Rykus picked up his fork. He moved the spiraled vegetable around on his plate, then set the fork down and took a sip of water instead.

  “Eat,” Cas barked. Her arms were crossed, her posture screaming her displeasure.

  Ash grabbed the sharp knife, flipped it once, then she stabbed one of the half-moon veggies and popped it into her mouth.

  Cas’s nostrils flared.

  Ash slowly and deliberately chewed. Almost immediately she realized it was good—a bright and crisp taste—and that she was famished.

  She also realized she might throw up. Hauch wasn’t sitting beside her. Neither was Mira, and she could still smell that chamber of cages. She could still remember the feel of Trevast’s blood between her fingers and the bodies of her teammates scattered around her.

  The knife shook in her hand. She set it down and intertwined her fingers in her lap beneath the table.

  Rykus, Cas, and Tahn all looked at her.

  She focused on a wave in the table’s wood grain. Now was not the time to show any kind of weakness.

  “There are two factions,” Tahn said after a long moment. “The Dynasty has been around for millennia, most likely, though there isn’t an official beginning. Small groups of telepaths began to find each other when interstellar travel became easier. Many of those groups had already began worming their way into the power structure of their home worlds. When they found each other, they exchanged ideas and became better at their manipulations and infiltrations. They organized themselves, created laws, shared experiences. One experience shared by multiple groups was to never allow their telepathic ability to become known outside their circles. Individual dynasties had tried it, and each time, they were hunted as witches and benders and a plethora of other mythological beings.”

  “Telling us this breaks the Dynasty’s law,” Ash said.

  Tahn smiled. “Yes, if I do not eliminate both of you. But I break many of the Dynasty’s laws.”

  “But not the New Guard’s?”

  “Theirs too.” Tahn took a sip of wine. “The New Guard organized soon after the creation of the Coalition. Some telepaths wanted to break away and infiltrate new planets, but the dynasties wouldn’t allow it. Or rather, they said they would think about it. When a few decades passed, telepaths grew impatient and attempted to take over planets without permission. The dynasties stopped that immediately. It was quite a messy ordeal.”

  Ash glanced at Rykus. He’d lost his edge of anger over Rohn’s infiltration of the anomaly program, and his expression was somber now.

  His leg pressed against hers beneath the table. She let his touch steady her.

  She focused on Tahn. “But some of the telepaths were successful in breaking away? They became the New Guard?”

  Tahn nodded. “The telepaths who didn’t like the Dynasty’s power structure saw an opportunity with the formation of the Coalition. The Dynasty was watching for infiltrations of individual planets. They weren’t as alert to telepaths taking over an interstellar organization. By the time they realized the Coalition wouldn’t be just another failed experiment, the New Guard had secured strategic positions within the government.”

  Chill bumps skittered down her arms. She tried to rub them away, but they seemed permanently etched there.

  “Would it be too much to ask for a list of names?”

  Tahn cocked his head. “Would you be capable of working for me if I paid you in names?”

  “No,” Rykus answered.

  Ash started to reply too, then thought better of it. Tahn was telling them far too much. If she outright refused to work for him, would he decide she and Rykus were disposable?

  “What would you want me to do?” she asked.

  “Ash,” Rykus warned.

  This time she nudged his leg. He got the message and kept his mouth closed.

  “Trevast was a valuable asset,” Tahn said. “And you’re more interesting than I expected. You also happen to be in a position to provide me with the same information he did. Given your recent history and your ability to detect telepaths, you might be even more useful.”

  The thought of being a source for Tahn—the thought of committing true treason—made the loyalty training’s hooks pierce into her chest. Obviously, she wouldn’t be able to do that.

  She realized she was wringing her hands underneath the table, made herself stop, then focused on Tahn’s last sentence. “I can’t reliably detect telepaths.”

  “No? When we were on the transport, you didn’t sense anything when we silenced ourselves?”

  “I knew you were there,” she said slowly, remembering the faint pseudo glow at the edge of her consciousness, the one that had disappeared as soon as she’d focused on it. “I’ve tried tracking people before when I thought I sensed something. If I didn’t have a visual, I lost them.”

  “You’re referring to Caban Riddel,” he said.

  “You know him?” Riddel was the security officer Ash had chased through Javery’s water recyc tunnels. He’d escaped after putting a knife in her gut.

  “Ironically, he was another asset of mine that you rendered useless. I do believe you owe me, Lieutenant.”

  She crossed her arms. “You haven’t said what you want.”

  He lifted his wineglass in acknowledgment and sipped. When he set it back down, he looked at Cas.

  Ash tried to read the conversation in their eyes. Anger from Cas. Patience from Tahn. Beyond that, nothing.

  Tahn turned back to the table, took another sip of wine, then said, “We would like both Valt and Rohn brought to us. Commander, you can get access to the training facility. Ideally, you could simply walk in and detain Rohn.”

  “I can also send a message and have him detained.” Rykus wore a familiar scowl. It reminded her of their days on Caruth when she tried to circumvent rules and regs. It was a scowl that said there would be no negotiating or bending of ethics.

  “For multiple reasons, I would discourage that,” Tahn said. “First, who would detain Rohn just on your word? They would ask questions, go through the chain of command, and I can guarantee you that chain of command is compromised. If Rohn has warning he’s been discovered, he will run.”

  “Secondly,” he continued. “Knowledge of our abilities is on the brink of becoming public. That does not bode well for the Coalition or for us. Third, if you call someone, it will signal that you have no intention to bring Valt and Rohn to us. That would be a bad decision.”

  The last sentence was a warning Tahn let hang in the air.

  Rykus ignored it. “Your resources are extensive. Why don’t you hire someone to bring them in?”

  Tahn relaxed back in his chair. “I am.”

  Rykus’s scowl deepened.

  “Your lives in exchange for theirs,” Tahn said. “Unfortunately, I n
eed an answer now. The capsule is due to enter the time-bend within the hour, and I need to give the administrator a destination.”

  More chill bumps skittered over her skin. Tahn had been responsible for the capsule showing up early in Glory’s system. With a quick word, he could make it adjust its itinerary again? Was he blackmailing the administrator? Or did he have control over him or her?

  She glanced at Rykus. If he was surprised, he did a good job of keeping it hidden.

  “I won’t violate Coalition law,” he said.

  Tahn pursed his lips. “Well then. I’m afraid you aren’t very useful to me.”

  “I’ll do it,” Ash said quickly. “I’ll do my best to bring Rohn to you alive. Valt won’t make it though.”

  “Ash,” Rykus growled.

  “You’re capable of it?” Tahn asked.

  “I didn’t give the Coalition the key to the Sariceans’ files until he ordered it.” She nodded toward Rykus. “I’ll find a way to make it work.”

  “No.” Rykus’s growl plucked at her loyalty training.

  “You don’t need to go with me.”

  “I won’t allow it!”

  She clenched her teeth and turned toward him. “If you use compul—”

  “I will give you orders. If you want to remain a soldier in the Coalition’s Fighting Corps, you will obey them, or I’ll have you discharged.”

  Fire sizzled under her skin. He was pulling rank?

  She sniffed. “Tersa won’t let me go. She needs me to—”

  Rykus’s gaze shot to Tahn. “Can all anomalies detect telepaths or just her?”

  One corner of Tahn’s mouth lifted. “I prefer not to answer that question.”

  Ash glared at her fail-safe, wanting to lash out, to yell, but his words made her hesitate. She hadn’t considered that. She still wasn’t sure if she could reliably detect telepaths and their drones, but if she could—if all anomalies could—it would remove a huge weight from her shoulders.

  It would also imply the Coalition had a security issue that extended beyond the massive debacle of replacing Rykus with a telepath. The soldiers Rohn had loyalty trained were obviously compromised, but the Coalition also had an extensive database that contained the names of all the men and women who had anomalies in their DNA tests. If the factions managed to get access to that…

  Ash sank back in her chair.

  “Shall I tell the capsule administrator to take us to Caruth?” Tahn asked. “Or should I let him return to his itinerary?”

  “Caruth,” Ash said.

  He looked at Rykus. “Commander?”

  He sat there like a statue made of hard metals. He shouldn’t come with her. He should go back to Javery. Ash could do this on her own. She almost said so, but before she could, Rykus dipped his head in a quick, sharp nod.

  “Wonderful!” Tahn stood. “I need to have a private conversation with the administrator. Cas will show you to your room.” He took a step toward the back door, then paused. “Or should that be rooms?”

  “Room,” Rykus grated out, staring her down. Ash lifted her chin and met his eyes, ignoring the barely controlled storm that thrashed and churned behind them.

  25

  As soon as the door locked them into their quarters, Rykus rounded on Ash. “You’re contemplating treason.”

  “I’m contemplating ways to protect the Coalition.” She moved to the narrow table pressed against the wall.

  “By stealing intelligence assets and delivering them to a man who runs the biggest criminal operation in the Known Universe?”

  “I agreed to deliver one telepath. The other I plan to kill.” She picked up a pitcher of water and filled a glass.

  “We can’t trust him, Ash.”

  He waited while she took longer than necessary to sip her water. Then her eyes met his and silently said I know. Silently, because they shouldn’t talk in here. Undoubtedly, there would be a listening device or two hidden in their room. They needed something to drown out their conversation.

  A narrow door opened to a small bathroom on the other side of the bed. That could work. He’d stripped off Ash’s bloody clothes while she’d been unconscious and had used sani-cloths to clean up as much of the dirt and blood as he could, but they both needed showers. The water should be enough noise to obscure their words.

  He took her hand, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed her knuckles. “Come on.” He pulled her toward the bathroom.

  “Couldn’t wait to get me alone, could you?”

  For the first time in what seemed like a millennium, he smiled. Those little teases and taunts had enraged him on Caruth. Now they made him love her even more. It didn’t matter if she had been through hell, if she was hurt, if she was broken on the inside and out, she defied the reality of her world with her quips and grins.

  He set the water temperature, tapped on the shower, and undressed her. He’d seen Ash’s injuries when he’d changed her in the med-bay five, maybe six hours ago, and already, the bruises looked a shade better. The holes and cuts she’d received were covered by regeneration patches. He left those in place. A few days, and the gel coupled with the booster she’d taken on Glory, would turn those more serious injuries into scars.

  His knuckles skated up the older marks on her stomach, then brushed the side of her breast. The latter wasn’t intentional, but Ash responded, fisting his shirt and pulling him close.

  His mouth met hers. His hands slid into her hair. Hers dropped to his pants, unfastening them, pushing them down.

  He stepped out of them, helped her get his shirt off. Then he was pulling her into the shower, kissing and touching and breathing her in. He wanted to do more than that—she wanted to do more—but he broke their kiss and moved his lips to her ear.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  “I don’t want to talk.” Her hand slid down his chest.

  He caught it. Cursed. “Why do you always force me to be the responsible one?”

  She laughed. “Because you are the responsible one, Rip.”

  He kissed her again, then moved them both into the stream of hot water. It sluiced over their bodies, rinsing away the blood and sweat and grime. He wanted it to rinse away their responsibilities too, to let this moment be just him and Ash and unburdened time. He wanted to pretend they weren’t on a ship crammed full of telepaths, that Ash wasn’t injured, that her friends and teammates weren’t dead, leaving permanent scars on her heart. He knew he was her distraction, a way to avoid facing the pain. He wished he could be a permanent antidote.

  “Caruth,” he said, gripping her hips to prevent her from moving against him. “I don’t want you there.”

  She sighed, then looped her arms over his shoulders. “You also don’t want me to betray the Coalition.”

  “You can’t betray the Coalition.”

  “I can make it work.” She reached to the back wall and removed a folded soap cloth from an inset shelf. “I’ve agreed to bring him Rohn, but you’ll know exactly how I plan to get him off-planet.” She slid the cloth over his chest, leaving a trail of suds. “You can intercept us.”

  “Tahn will know we planned that. We should take Rohn directly to a cell. Notify Tersa and the war chancellor.”

  “What if they’re telepaths?” Ash asked.

  He placed his hand on top of hers, preventing her from dragging the cloth too low. “You would know.”

  “Maybe not. And what about their support staff? I haven’t met everyone who works for them.”

  “Ash.” He took the cloth from her. “Let me take care of this. We’ll go dirtside together. You disappear as soon as we touch down, and I’ll meet with the instructors. I’ll make sure Rohn is secured.”

  “You think it’s going to be simple.”

  “It should be,” he said. “But I’ll have a plan B and C and D.”

  “You’ll have me.”

  He reached for the thin braid that rested against her shoulder and let his fingers slide down it. “Not this time, baby.” H
e gently pulled the hair-band free, then untwisted the braid.

  “I can’t let you go alone,” she said, “The loyalty training won’t let me.”

  “You can work around it.”

  She pushed his hand away. “What if Tahn won’t allow it? What if he’s been working on my mind the whole time I’ve been on board?”

  He eased back. Looked at her. “You think he has?”

  “I don’t know! How can I know?” Fear flashed through her gaze before she turned away. She jammed her hand beneath the shampoo dispenser.

  He gave her some space, letting the stream of water be a wall between them. They knew little about the telepaths, and they couldn’t be sure that what they had learned was true. He needed time with Rohn and Valt. Preferably, he needed a trained team of interrogators too. The Coalition should have stuck with traditional techniques for prying information out of enemies. Loyalty training Valt had been foolish.

  He watched the water stream over Ash. She shampooed her hair, and a line of suds traced the edge of the regen-patch on her shoulder before sliding down her spine to the curve of her ass. Seeker’s God, she was a work of art, a canvas that held a brushstroke for every trial she’d overcome. She was a masterpiece of strength and beauty and life.

  And she was scared.

  To be honest, he was too. That’s why he didn’t want her to go.

  He fought that protective instinct, the one that wanted to put her on a deserted planet so no one could find or hurt her. That planet would crush her spirit.

  Damn it. He was going to have to let her come to Caruth with him.

  He blew out a breath, stepped into the stream of water, and wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll know if you’ve been compromised, Ash. And I’ll bring you back.”

  She pressed her cheek against his. “I don’t want to go through the loyalty training again. I can’t.”

  “You won’t have to,” he said.

  “If Valt or Rohn get—”

  “It won’t happen. You’re mine, and you’ll protect yourself. And if either of those bastards looks at you too long, I’ll put a bullet in their heads.”