“I do?”
“And you know you owe me. The number of times I’ve picked up people for you, no questions asked, almost all locations covered. Sometimes it’s been pretty obvious that these people are exactly who you say they are, but on other occasions… Come on, Talbot. I’m not stupid—you’ve been up to something all along, you and your ‘special’ group. Do you think I haven’t asked myself if it was a coincidence I was offloaded onto a borderline area of Rim space after my ‘disastrous’ interviews for Sector? Tagged like a beacon?” Nell gave a snort of disbelief. “By the very same Rim Lord I was sent to purchase on Egalita as a sex slave? You’ve thrown me into this so deep, Talbot, I’ve occasionally wondered if I was going to get out of it alive. So now I want in. I want to finish this. I even know which sector it is that I want. I want control of the sector that runs parallel to the Eastern Complex.”
Talbot’s expression was as close to alarm as she had ever seen it.
“Area Commander Thorn, that sector is not within my gift to bestow. The current Sector head is…”
“Gordon. Sector Commander Gordon.”
“Gordon.” Talbot shook his head. “Now, Sector Three…”
“I don’t want Sector Three,” Nell informed him through gritted teeth. “I want Gordon’s sector.”
“Thirteen,” said Talbot with emphasis, as if the fact that it was Sector Thirteen should make Nell change her mind.
“I know it’s Sector Thirteen and that Gordon is someone you’ve had suspicions about for quite some time. I also know you’ve had your own concerns regarding the slave trade and border raids, because my recent activities in that area for you corresponded with no end of enquiries and investigations, long before I was sent to Egalita to retrieve Woodson Rowe.”
Nell stepped over the bags where they lay on the floor, leaving most of them behind as she spotted a bar facility.
Talbot watched her go, raising his full hands in a helpless gesture as Nell continued to talk. “The Eastern Complex is in turmoil because of an influx of slave labour, which has been attributed to the Fleet. That’s not good for Fleet public relations, is it, Talbot? We might fight dirty, we might be brutal, but we don’t normally dirty our hands with something as base as slave labour. I would respectfully suggest that someone, somewhere, is not doing their job.”
Nell stopped and turned to face Talbot as she dumped the bag she was carrying onto an empty seat. “And I believe that Gordon may have attempted to assassinate Rowe aboard my ship.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Talbot spluttered. “On what grounds could you possibly make an outlandish allegation like that against someone in Sector Command?”
“The assassin on my ship carried the insignia of Gordon’s personal guard.”
Talbot stilled, his expression suddenly alert, like a hunter sensing its prey.
“He was stopped? There were witnesses? How…careless.”
“Rowe broke the assassin’s neck as the assassin was attempting to slice open mine.”
“Did he? And who else knows about this?”
Good old Talbot. Already he was calculating how much he could trade on this information in his world of murky secrets. Nell could almost see the cogs in his brain turning frantically as he worked out how this might best benefit his own ambitions across the various sectors.
“Does it matter?” Nell asked him, going on to deliver her final blow. “My father agrees with me. The Admiral considers it one thing for the Rim worlds to be running human traffic amongst themselves, but from us to them? That does not look good, and would not be well received across certain very influential parts of the IGW. Not to mention Gordon’s attempt to murder a Thorn…” She raised her eyebrows. “I have to believe they may have a history, so vehement was his reaction when I mentioned my concerns.”
Talbot looked thoughtful.
“And if the notorious Admiral Thorn has suspicions, who better than his favourite daughter in the key position of Sector head?” Talbot muttered, almost to himself.
Nell did not answer, but inclined her head slightly, a small smile on her perfectly red lips.
She had wasted little time before reapplying her cosmetic arsenal once she had arrived back in Fleet space. Helena Thorn was back in full battledress, ready for war, and the Thorn family had a well-established habit of getting what they wanted.
“What was it that you wanted to know about Sector Thirteen again, Commander Thorn?” Talbot asked her, slowly starting to rub his hands together.
Chapter Fourteen
Nell had planned her early arrival at Sector Thirteen headquarters fully aware that Gordon was not used to having his morning cup of green tea disturbed at all, let alone by a diminutive blonde woman, granite faced, flanked by fully armed Fleet personnel who marched in unannounced, armed to the teeth.
“Good morning, Sector Commander.” Nell cast her eyes about the lavish surroundings. “Sorry to disturb your morning break.”
She wasn’t sorry at all. Nell had yet to forget the attempt on her ship and crew by this man, all because she’d stood between him and Rowe.
Gordon placed his thin, elegant porcelain cup carefully back on its saucer. Nell wondered if he realised that his shock at seeing her still alive had registered on his face. She knew the moment Gordon realised that if she was breathing, that must mean that Woodson Rowe was still breathing as well.
“Commander Thorn, how delightful to meet you at last,” he finally bit out coolly, extending one hand towards her, which Nell ignored.
“Likewise, Sector Commander Gordon, but, I am afraid, tinged with some sadness. I am here to relieve you of your command, as of now.”
Gordon’s ignored hand fell back, and he seemed to freeze in place. “You have been recalled for a psych assessment,” Nell continued, as Gordon’s fingers tightened into claws on the table top.
“The GEF psychs have said I need to return?” he repeated. “For assessment? But there is nothing wrong with me.”
Nell gave a moue of sympathy and shrugged. The GEF psychs were renowned for pulling people from space at a moment’s notice as a result of their own covert intelligence. When they did it, it was often enough to ensure that people never returned to space again. If Gordon sensed it was a conspiracy, there was little he could do about it now. Nell was flanked to the left and right by her best troopers. Gordon must have known that if he did not leave quietly he would still leave, but in the custody of the tough, battle-ready enforcers facing him.
“A psych assessment… Was that the best you could do, Commander?” Gordon sneered.
“It was all I had to do.” Nell replied steadily.
An assessment was the only way to displace someone of Gordon’s authority and influence from a position of responsibility. And it took a person of equal influence to achieve it.
Gordon climbed to his feet and made an ironic bow, acknowledging, in some small way, Nell’s coup de grâce.
“It must be a wonderful thing to be a Thorn, Commander,” he observed bitterly.
“You might be surprised,” Nell answered, her face carefully neutral as she stepped forward.
“And what about any loose ends I may have to address…?” He waved his hand vaguely, but his expression was sharp.
The only way he would get to address any loose ends would be over Nell’s dead body. She dreaded to think what he had in mind to clean up or destroy.
“Not necessary,” she replied. “That’s why I am here. You will stand down, and I will take control immediately of the entire sector. I have an Admiralty directive for you to look at if you have any questions.”
A tablet was slid across the smooth table top to clink against his teacup and Gordon took it silently, appearing to finally admit defeat.
Gordon cast his eye over the tablet but Nell knew it to all be correct.
Thorns were nothing if not thorough.
Chapter Fifteen
Nell felt a thrill of anticipation as she stepped once more onto a planet that was
part of the Rim territories. The particular planet she was on today was exquisite, with high, sparkling quartz cliffs topped with trailing green ferns. The sky was an azure blue, lit by twin suns.
“Breathtaking,” her second-in-command whispered to her.
“Let’s hope this is all that is going to render us speechless today,” Nell murmured back.
Nell straightened her dress jacket yet again before crossing her arms and tapping her foot. The representatives of the Rim were taking their own sweet time about coming to meet them. Minutes ticked by, and Nell lost count of the number of times she had admired the view or counted the tiles on the floor.
Finally, the doors flew back and a group of men walked through, preceded by troops in the distinctive black and silver battledress of the Danyeo Family Collective. Nell did not move, did not walk towards them to shake their hands. They had kept her waiting almost an hour while they had discussed…whatever. It was highly satisfying to see Danyeo and Rowe check slightly as they recognised who their Fleet representative was on this occasion.
The Rim aide who had kept them waiting bustled up to do the introductions.
“Sector Commander Helena Thorn.”
“Sector Commander Thorn.” Danyeo bowed slightly. “You take me by surprise. I was expecting Sector Commander Gordon.”
“Gordon has returned to the IGW,” Nell replied smoothly, bowing slightly in return. “His health was causing him problems.”
“Or is about to.” It was Angel’s voice.
Nell took a deep steadying breath. She had been dumped unceremoniously on a remote space station when it had suited them. She was here as a Fleet representative, so she said nothing right away. Instead she turned very slowly to greet the men who’d become two of the most important people in her life. Rowe and Angel did not know it, probably did not reciprocate, but she knew it. Nell had not expected them to be here today, as the talks had actually been arranged by Dominic Danyeo. The shock of meeting them like this, left Nell momentarily struck dumb.
“Commander Thorn.” A muscle ticked in Rowe’s jaw as he greeted her. His slate-grey gaze flicked over her face, then her uniform and rank insignia.
There was a brief pause as they all took each other’s measure. Nell raised her chin.
“Do the Rim worlds possess such things as negotiating tables with chairs, or are you expecting us to stand for the duration?” she asked bluntly, pleased that her voice emerged calm and authoritative, and not as squeaky and breathless as she was feeling.
There was an instant flurry of embarrassed activity by the aides present, until all parties were seated.
They then stared at each other for what felt like a lifetime to Nell.
“So,” Nell started, “why has the Eastern Complex requested the presence of the local GEF Sector Commander here today?”
Silence.
“Do I have to guess?” she asked.
“We were expecting Gordon,” Rowe snapped.
Nell eyed the large number of black- and silver-clad Danyeo troopers with renewed interest.
“Ah,” she acknowledged slowly. “Were you, by any chance, looking to arrest Sector Commander Gordon today?”
Nell knew the answer was yes before anyone sat before her even moved a muscle. That was why there had been the extended delay before meeting her.
They had not wanted to meet with her at all.
In an odd way, Nell felt rather hurt, but she gritted her teeth and carried on. She had come to the meeting in the white and gold colours of the Fleet, and she would be damned if she did anything other than see the thing through to its proper conclusion.
“This is an ideal opportunity for me to ensure you are informed that all of Gordon’s known activities have been stopped. They are being investigated as we speak. If you know or hear of any that continue in his absence, please let me know.”
Silence.
“Gordon has been relieved of command. He is currently en route to IGW headquarters, where he will be subject to a reassessment. Personally, I think it highly unlikely he will be fit enough to return to the level of command he previously,” Nell chose her words carefully, discarding ‘enjoyed’ in favour of, “occupied.”
More silence.
Nell gave a long sigh, casting her gaze from Danyeo, to Angel, to Rowe. “The Fleet would also like to apologise for any upset or distress his activities may have caused.” Nell was very aware her words seemed inadequate, given that he had tried to murder Rowe and kill her in the process, but it was still an apology. Nell looked at Rowe’s face again.
He did not look like a man who was about to accept a formal apology. Angel simply grimaced and looked away.
“I can appreciate that you came here today intent on having things out with Gordon, but, as you must understand, that is impossible. If, however, it is the Fleet you have an issue with…”
“We could take you by proxy for Gordon,” Rowe growled.
“No,” Danyeo interceded quickly, “I don’t think so. This is a border dispute—”
“That was being run by Gordon, and therefore, ultimately, when all is said and done, the Fleet,” Rowe protested angrily.
“Gordon has gone,” Nell insisted firmly. “He will not be back. I would also like to state categorically that the Fleet have no ambitions on the borders of Eastern Complex space, Lord Rowe. Whatever actions Gordon has taken against you were done purely on his own initiative, and not with the backing of the Inner Worlds.”
Rowe snorted loudly and Angel glared at her.
“So who is the new permanent Sector Commander going to be?” Rowe asked finally. “Another Thorn?”
“I think the Fleet might be running out of Thorns,” Danyeo muttered under his breath.
Nell was momentarily struck speechless, for she had already committed herself to the post indefinitely.
“That will, of course, have to be decided by the IGW in due course.”
“Will it?” Rowe’s tone was hardly nice.
“Well, if that is all you wish to discuss with me…” Nell stood abruptly, acutely aware that she had done as much as she could today, and there was nothing she could do or say that would make Rowe and Angel feel better. They were here for revenge on Gordon and she had snatched him away from under their noses, because she had wanted to protect them from the almost certain conflict that would have resulted from their action.
It was an act that would probably mean she would never see or speak to them ever again as friends, certainly not as lovers. They were seething, furious.
She had cheated them out of their payback.
Nell paused and looked back at Rowe. “In removing Gordon, I believe I have probably saved the lives of a considerable number of Rim inhabitants, including your own and Angel’s. I never thanked you properly for saving my life, but I am thanking you now for killing the assassin who attacked me that night.”
Rowe frowned at her, but kept silent.
“What I didn’t tell you was that the assassin carried the mark of Gordon’s personal guard. As a Fleet officer, I could not let him remain where he was. The GEF executive had to act, so it is not a matter of your own personal vendetta going unfulfilled. Fleet intervention was always inevitable, a matter of correct procedure.”
Nell turned and walked out before she could say anything more. Maybe something really stupid—like, ‘Let’s forget all the crap and make love’—to the two men who she guessed would be staring at her back as if they wanted to stick a knife in it.
* * * *
She left the room and kept walking, back rigid, boots clicking on the hard stone floor. Her jaw clenched with anger.
Bastard, bastard fuckers. Why couldn’t they just accept she was trying to keep them safe? And it felt good to call people names, particularly when they left you on the verge of tears.
A gasp to her left made her glance sideways, only to see an aide with a bright red face.
“Sorry,” she said. “Did I speak?”
“Yes, and don’t be
sorry, Commander Thorn. I agree with your assessment completely.”
“Commander Thorn!” A shout echoed down the corridor as they continued to walk. “Nell!”
Nell turned to see Angel jogging to a halt beside her. He bent, his hands on his thighs, to catch his breath. Nell looked at him for a few moments, then turned to go. Angel’s hand shot out and caught her wrist. She stared at it for a few moments before waving her party on. “This better be good,” she warned him.
Angel pulled a face at her. “Nell, don’t be too angry at Rowe.” He recovered his breath quickly and went on, “He’s just cross because things didn’t work out the way he had planned in his head.”
“You’re joking, right? I thought no all-out war and Gordon gone might be a good solution for him.”
“Yes, it is, but it’s Rowe. The macho Rim thing means that, as soon as Gordon had him abducted and sold into slavery, Gordon was a marked man. Rowe has been dreaming about revenge for a long time, and in some pretty bad places.”
Nell thought of the first time she had met him, lying beaten by some mercenary slaver at the side of the road, and had to concede that revenge would feature pretty high on anyone’s agenda under similar circumstances.
She grunted to acknowledge Angel’s point.
“And then there’s this tiny, feisty Galaxy Elite Fleet officer that keeps riding to his rescue not once, but twice? That’s hard to take, for a man that was born to absolute power in a galaxy like the Eastern Complex. Riding to the rescue was his job before Gordon got to him.”
“That is not true—he saved my life,” Nell protested, “and the lives of my crew.”
“All I’m saying is please don’t give up on us just yet, Nell Thorn.” Angel leant forward and kissed her on the forehead. “Not yet.”
With that, he turned and walked away, breaking into a run as if in a hurry, leaving Nell standing, watching him go.
Chapter Sixteen
Whump, whump, whump.
Nell Thorn Page 8
