Sovran's Pawn (The Black Wing Chronicles Book 1)

by JC Cassels

  “Sweet rolls, a trade agreement and an adventure,” he said with a playful grin. “What have you got for me?”

  Bo kicked off the soft slippers every visitor to the Imperial Baths was required to wear, and tossed her gear onto a bench. With a wicked grin, she stepped backwards onto the sparring mat and assumed a defensive position.

  “That’s my girl,” Royce said, following her. “Have you been practicing those moves I showed you last time?”

  “I don’t know,” she fired back. “Let’s see.”

  Neither spoke as Royce took his place opposite her. Patiently he watched her, waiting for some signal. Bo was never sure exactly what. Clearing her mind, she forced herself to relax, having faith that her body would know how to react before her conscious thought.

  Without warning, his hand struck out at her. Bo barely had time to deflect the punch when he followed through with his other fist. She ducked and weaved, settling into the rhythm of his attack.

  A good spar was like a deadly dance, punctuated by rapid-fire hits and rests, rising and falling, moving first one direction and then another. Royce was good at what he did. He kept his body and mind sharp, despite his propensity for alcohol and bar food.

  “So how have things been?”

  Bo blocked the jab he threw at her and spun away from the knee that came up at her. “Busy,” she said. “I can’t complain. How are things back home?”

  “Your cousin Jaden’s joined with Kari Gallis.”

  “I like her. She was a year behind us at the Academy.”

  “She went into the Mondhuic.”

  “No!” Bo said in genuine surprise. Mondhuic Space Command was the homeland segment of the Black Wing. “I thought she’d be Consular Guard all the way.”

  “Things are changing back home. The Mondhuic is beefing up security in our airspace. They’re recruiting the best and the brightest.”

  “That would be Kari,” Bo said, dodging a series of attacks. “What’s got homeland so up at arms?”

  Royce shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, Princess,” Royce said. “Your Dad’s been stolen.”

  The unexpectedness of his words took a few seconds to register. Bo stumbled forward a few steps, wavering in her attack. At her uncle’s expression, she stopped and slowly lowered her hands. She searched his face, hoping to find some meaning written there.

  “Stolen?”

  “Kidnapped. A couple of weeks ago someone managed to get past security and steal his stasis pod,” Royce said, shaking his head. “Galen’s had our best people investigating from every angle on the hush low. He doesn’t want it to go public. We’d hoped to have him back before we told you.”

  Bo’s tenuous hold on her emotions exploded. She let out a feral howl, venting her rage in a snarled string of Gallic invectives, punctuating each by landing furious blows on her uncle. Like a wild thing, she cursed and spat, venting her fury on the messenger.

  Expecting her reaction, Royce deflected the bulk of her attack, leading her around the mat until she had exorcised the worst of her wrath.

  She ducked under his fist and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet.

  “Explain to me how, in the name of all that’s holy, anyone could have gotten in and out of the Caer and off planet without anyone noticing!”

  “I wish I knew the answer to that,” Royce said. “I’m not crazy about the idea of someone walking off with my brother.”

  Bo tamped down the fury that threatened to consume her. With an iron will honed by a lifetime of practice, she quelled her emotional response and channeled that energy into sparring with her uncle. Focusing solely on the man in front of her, she tested his reflexes and his defenses, then launched a quick succession of attacks that drove him back a few steps in retreat.

  “Hey, this is just practice, remember?” he said. His hand went to his shoulder where she had landed a solid blow. Flexing his hand, he massaged the spot. “Where’d you learn Duros Street fighting?” he asked.

  She tossed her long, brown braid over her shoulder and resumed a defensive posture. “In a Tandoori lockup,” she said, matter-of-factly.

  His brow furrowed in concern. “What were you doing in a Tandoori lockup? Those Fifth Sector grunts don’t fool around. They’ll slit your throat if you breathe wrong.”

  “Not if you slit theirs first.” She shrugged off his concern. “I wasn’t there long.”

  Shaking out his shoulder one last time, he resumed his combat-ready stance. “Long enough to pick up some new tricks,” he groused. “You shouldn’t have been there at all.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Frostfire,” she growled, delivering a roundhouse kick to his midsection with enough force to knock him to the ground. “I want to talk about finding my father!”

  Royce wheezed, holding his midsection and slowly climbed to his feet. “Galen got a message a few days ago,” he said. “They want a ransom.”

  He advanced on her, testing her stamina with a complex series of attacks. She blocked the first combination and ducked underneath the second, bobbing and weaving, looking for her opening. When it came, she took it without conscious thought, landing a solid blow in the center of his face.

  “Hey!” His hand went up to his nose and he held up his other hand to ward her off. “You know the rules,” he snapped. “Not the face.”

  “Sorry, I got carried away.”

  Royce felt along his nose, then wiggled it and moved his jaw, checking for serious injury.

  By unspoken agreement, the sparring session was over. Bo shook her head and stepped off the thick mat. Catching up her towel, she wiped the perspiration from her face. “What kind of ransom do they want?”

  “They want the schematics for a weapon that’s being offered on the black market, and they want you to get it for them.”

  Bo folded her arms across her chest. “I see.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied her uncle. “Why me?”

  Royce closed the distance between them and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t know. They only said they wanted you to recover the schematics and deliver them. Anyone else and they’re going to cut off life support to Bhruic’s stasis capsule.”

  “They wouldn’t dare…”

  “Yeah, they would. Until we can figure something out, I’m afraid we at least need to go through the motions of cooperating with their demands.”

  Bo shook off his hands. Her amber eyes blazed with primal rage. “I’d much rather hunt them down and peel their flesh away layer by layer until they give me back my father.”

  Royce held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not against that course of action,” he said reasonably. “But we don’t have much to go on at this point. Edge is only plugged into the central Com-Net; he’s not omniscient. Until your brother can dig up more intel, we don’t have a lot of choice in the matter.”

  The fire burning a hole in the pit of her belly threatened to consume her, then settled into a slow blaze. After a long moment, Bo relented. “So what’s the gig?”

  With a dazzling smile that had been known to melt many a female heart much harder than Bo’s, Royce reached into his pocket and pulled out a ticket voucher. He handed it to her and kissed her lightly on the cheek as she took it. “That’s your gate pass. I’ll meet you in the embarkation lounge. It’s a swanky liner and there’s a Five-Point tourney going on with a lot of high rollers. That’s our cover. A lot of organizations are angling for a shot at this weapon, and more than a couple of sectors will be represented. Second Sector already has me assigned as a potential buyer. You’re coming along as a Joy Babe I’ve hired. Dress for the occasion and make sure you pack for the part.”

  Bo glanced at the hard plastic chit in her hand. One word leaped out at her: Cormoran.

  Her breath caught, nearly choking her. “Cormoran?” she said. Her voice sounded strangled, even to her own ears. “I’m boarding on Cormoran?” She glared at her uncle. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

  “Now, Princess…”
>
  “Don’t you ‘Princess’ me!” she snapped. “I can’t go to Cormoran. The minute I step off the ramp I’m likely to be shot.”

  “It’s not that bad…”

  “I’m Cormoran’s Most Wanted!”

  “Well, actually, you’re kind of the entire Second Sector’s Most Wanted. Lord Scull’s made it clear he wants you dead. He’s caught a lot of flack over the way his people mishandled the whole Frostfire incident. He wants you to quietly disappear as quickly as possible.”

  She shook her head with a humorless chuckle. “Oh that makes it loads better.” She glared at her uncle. “You’re determined to get me killed, aren’t you?”

  Royce spread his hands in innocence, but she cut him off before he could protest.

  “Well, guess what, Royce?” She advanced on him and poked him in the chest with one slender finger. “If you get me killed, guess who I’m naming as my successor?”

  Royce shook his head. “You wouldn’t!”

  She nodded. “Before I leave, I’m sending a notice to Galen and the Mondhuic General Assembly naming you my successor until further notice.”

  “Baby, don’t do that. Jaden is a much better choice than me.” Royce looked pained. “I told your dad I didn’t want it. I have a good thing going with the Inner Circle…”

  “And I had a good thing with the Consular Guard,” she snapped. “Look where that got me! Exiled, disgraced, and wanted dead or alive.”

  “Mostly dead.”

  They stood toe to toe, glaring at each other a long moment before Royce finally relented and nodded his acquiescence.

  “What’s the security check like?” she asked with a resigned sigh.

  “Leave the Capre with your brother,” he said. “I know what you like to carry. I’ll have it waiting in our stateroom. Pare your arsenal down to what a Joy Babe would carry.”

  Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Bo shook her head. “A stinger and bladed weaponry?” she asked. “This job just keeps getting better.”

  “Non-lethal,” Royce reminded her. “That’s the law for Joy Babes. Oh, and if anyone asks, I’m a regular customer and you’re a Companion, not a Skyhopper.”

  Bo snorted in derision. “Thanks for small favors,” she said.

  Royce grinned, looking much younger than his years, and winked at her. “Hey, my little princess is no cheap Skyhopper. Neither was your mother, no matter what my mom says.”

  “So what’s my name?” she asked turning the voucher over in her hand.

  His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Marissa Kiara.” He ducked and moved quickly out of her reach as she took a swipe at him.

  Bo swore eloquently in Gallic, her native language.

  “Hey, now,” Royce chided. “None of that! You slip into Gallic and we’re both dead. You want to curse at me, do it in Toban, or Hrosku like a good Joy Babe. How’s your accent?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she snapped. “I’ll do my part. Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind and go with my first impulse to hunt them down.”

  Royce smiled gently at her and bowed low. “As you wish, Barron.” When he straightened, he leaned over and kissed her cheek again. “Feel free to finish the session for me,” he said. “But I’ll have to warn you that I paid extra to get a happy ending on the massage…”

  “Get out!” she snapped and threw her towel at him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Port Authority Building

  Cormor City, Cormoran, Second Sector

  Bo stepped from the autohack onto the pavement and peered up at the Port Authority building. With one hand she adjusted the oversized sunshades that hid her eyes, drawing attention to her carefully painted face. It had taken hours to get her appearance just right. Her long brown hair cascaded over one shoulder in artful disarray. The fluttery blue-hued dress hugged her curves. The daring neckline revealed a tantalizing amount of cleavage in the most expensive Altairian Joy Babe tradition. She turned and narrowly regarded the android attendant who was removing her matched luggage from the hack’s cargo compartment.

  “Be careful with that,” she directed in a carefully modulated tone. “I don’t want anything wrinkled or damaged.” She tucked a large designer clutch bag under her arm and moved quickly through the sliding doors, careful to hold herself with the effortless grace she’d learned from the crash course at the Joy Babe D’or Choh. Aunt Misou had been as demanding and difficult to please as the drill instructors at the Black Wing Flight Academy.

  At reception, she was greeted by a steward who took her ticket voucher and the finance card Edge had fabricated for her. He processed her quickly and passed her along to the next phase of the bureaucracy that moved her closer to embarkation. Bo watched as her luggage passed her on a hovercart and disappeared through a large set of doors for separate handling and boarding.

  After an interminable series of check-ins and delays, Bo finally reached the boarding gate. She glanced around, assessing the other passengers assembled there. She categorized and discounted one after another. Without straining, she easily determined the males traveling alone. They stood together in small groups on the edge of the passengers.

  As an unescorted Joy Babe, she may as well have worn a flashing light on her head to garner their attention.

  Bright light from Cormoran’s sun spilled in through the transparisteel wall, drawing her like a beacon. Reaching out, she braced her hand against the window, warm from the radiant energy. The musty smell of sun-warmed dust rose from the weather seal around the window. Bo smiled to herself. There hadn’t been fresh air in this lounge since the seals had been put into place decades ago. The sharp chemical tang of floral-scented cleaners wafting up from the carpeting, warmed by the sunlight, didn’t quite mask the odors of the over-warmed skin of countless sentient species.

  In the distance, the domes and spires of Cormor City reached for the dingy clouds dotting the sky. Funny how certain smells could bring back memories so clearly. The last time Bo had seen the Cormor skyline, the smells in the Tribunal Building downtown had been much the same. It seemed like a lifetime ago – someone else’s lifetime.

  Perhaps it was.

  Bo leaned her forehead against the transparisteel and closed her eyes. What she needed was a massive change of luck. Nothing had gone right since Frostfire. She couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong now; not when her father’s life was at stake, nevermind the future of Mondhuoun.

  She sensed a presence close behind her. Lifting her head, she opened her eyes and shifted her attention to the reflections in the transparisteel. Her breath caught. Tall, broad-shouldered and incredibly well-built, he had moved silently into place directly behind her, looming over her, and she’d never heard him. He wore his short, black hair in too trendy a style to be remotely considered within military regs. His black suit, cut in the latest fashion, fit him a little too well, flattering his lean, muscular build and indicating a measure of financial success – probably Second Avenue if her Aunt Misou’s training could be trusted.

  Oversize, opaque sunshades obscured most of his face, overwhelming his features, but what she could see of him was square-jawed perfection from his high cheekbones to his wide, generous mouth. His lips were full enough to be sensual. The corners of his mouth curled in a knowing, slightly sardonic smile that made her want to turn around; either to throw herself at him or run for her life, she wasn’t quite sure which.

  “It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”

  The deep voice rumbling through his chest was a sexy as the rest of him. His clipped elocution indicated some vocal training. First Sector definitely, from his accent, but the non-descript working-class lilt on his vowels defied identification. It was probably an affectation.

  Bo eyed him warily.

  “Is this your first trip to Cormoran?” he asked.

  Bo shook her head.

  “I live here,” he said. “I’ve seen the view many times, but it’s never been quite as interesting to me – or to most of the other
men here, I’d wager.” A lopsided smile tugged at one corner of his lips.

  Behind her sunshades, Bo rolled her eyes. Here it comes...the pickup line.

  “I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable standing so close behind you,” he said.

  “I’d prefer you step away.”

  He held up his drink and took a sip, studying her reflection before answering. “Now I really doubt that,” he said mischievously as he lowered his glass.

  Unable to resist his boyish charm, Bo lifted her chin, fighting back a small smile. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because with the sun behind you like it is, your dress is virtually transparent.” He grinned, showing a pair of dimples. “Right now, I’m the only thing standing between this room and a peep show.” He shrugged. “If that’s your intention, I’ll be happy to go over there and ogle you like everyone else.”

  Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against the transparisteel again. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment.

  “I didn’t think you meant to enhance the view like you were,” he said, tapping her arm with his drink. “Here, you look like you could use this.”

  Lifting her head, she stared at the glass filled with yellow liquid. Though it smelled horrid, she had to fight the urge to take it. Something about this man engendered her trust, and that was dangerous. She shook her head in refusal. Trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

  “Suit yourself.” He lifted the glass to his lips.

  Bo watched him, her mouth going dry over the way the muscles in his throat moved as he downed a healthy swallow. No man had the right to be that good looking while taking a drink.

  Biting back a curse, she turned to face him and took the glass from his hand. Before she could talk herself out of it, she drained it. The potent liquid traced a burning path down her throat, threatening to take her breath. Her lips twisted in distaste as she pressed the back of her hand against her mouth.

  She hated sour liquor.

  She leaned back against the transparisteel, waiting for the initial burn to fade.

  Chuckling, he leaned closer to her, bracing his hand on the window beside her shoulder, shielding her from the rest of the embarkation lounge with his body.