by Gun Brooke
“And neither am I,” she murmured, and kept working with the pitiful dressings.
“Madame?”
“Nothing. Simply a reflection on age and how much I’d rather be at home, tucking in my grandson and reading a good novel.”
A joyless smile grazed his dry lips. “Or having a glass of Dhakaria wine in front of a holo-fireplace, listening to the latest recording by Thoros Kolos.”
“You enjoy opera?” Dahlia didn’t understand how this conversation with a most despicable man almost comforted her, but talking about something resembling normalcy gave her new emotional strength.
“It is the art form, Madame Dahlia. Have you listened to our great national hero on the opera scene?”
“Not a lot. I’ve heard of him, though.” She wrapped the last of the bandages. “Have you listened to any of our opera companies from Vitaporta Prime? Opera is a lifestyle itself on their homeworld.”
“Oh, yes.” M’Ekar’s face softened, and she had no problem envisioning how dashing he’d once been. He’d probably charmed his way into the Onotharian nobility with ease and married a young woman in the M’Aido dynasty. She knew he came originally from simple circumstances, and if he’d used his driven personality for the greater good, he could have made an impact for the better. Instead, he had remained scheming and opportunistic, always putting himself first, ever ambitious.
“As a young man I always wanted to go to Vitaporta Prime,” he continued. “I even dreamed of a career in music.” He smiled self-deprecatingly, and she was mesmerized that he could be so charming, even disarming. She considered herself a shrewd, even hardened diplomat who, after a lifetime in the SC diplomatic corps, could see through any hidden agenda and outsmart any adversary. Still, when he talked eagerly about his opera dreams as a mere teenager, she could easily picture him then—tall, striking, and no doubt with a good voice. Even to this day, it was resonant and pleasing.
“Why didn’t you?” she asked spontaneously.
“Why, I… Oh, that wasn’t for me. It was only a dream.” His smile faded, and his dark eyes lost their light. “I was destined for other things. My family trusted me to be the one to succeed. They sacrificed everything to send me to the finest schools and to literally buy me a ticket to the finer social functions on Onotharat. You found all this out from your spies while you were interrogating me, no?”
“Yes, some, at least.” She pictured the young M’Ekar, carrying the hopes and dreams of his entire family, as well as the burden of striving for success. He took it a bit too far, I’d say.
“You done yet?” White’s cold voice interrupted the exchange.
Dahlia was annoyed with herself for not having pried more useful, tactical information out of M’Ekar. But she was sure the information she had obtained instead might be handy when it came to understanding him.
“Yes,” she answered to White’s question.
“The captain says you should hang onto the med-kit box.”
“Sure. I need something to carry it in.”
White stopped one of the crewmen nearby and made him remove a small pouch from his large back-strap security carrier. “Here.”
Dahlia attached the pouch to her belt and carefully tucked the few remaining items into it. She knew she would have to use it again soon.
“All right, people. We’re moving out.” Weiss stalked along the line of crew members and stopped by M’Ekar and Dahlia. “You look like you could be best buddies if you put your differences away,” she said scornfully. “Don’t become too chummy, M’Ekar. We still expect to get paid.”
“And you will, handsomely, if you get me across the border in one piece.”
“Don’t count on it, Hox,” Dahlia said, deliberately using his first name. Now she knew why it had been such a good idea to be personal with M’Ekar. Even if she didn’t trust him for a second, she could keep Weiss guessing and off balance. “The SC would never treat even their worst enemy this way, so be careful whom you trust.”
Weiss towered impressively over Dahlia, who wasn’t short. “Shut. Up.” Weiss’s tone was menacing, but it took more than that to intimidate Dahlia.
“You don’t need to sound so harsh,” she said innocently.
“Don’t think I’m not keeping an eye on you, and so is everyone else.”
“Very flattering for a woman my age.” She didn’t look away and finally Weiss broke eye contact first.
“Move out.”
They resumed their journey through the protected forest. Just before they left the clearing, Dahlia took her hand out of her pocket and released her last small piece of gold.
*
Ayahliss stood by the transparent aluminum view port, looking down at the planet Corma as the Dalathea hummed very faintly beneath her feet, where it lay in low orbit. The shuttle had delivered Armeo and her, with Judge Beqq, only an hour earlier. She glanced over at the couch where Armeo had fallen asleep while he browsed through the games and other entertainment.
The guest suites onboard the legendary court ship were very luxurious. Ayahliss had understood from Judge Beqq that the Dalathea was one of the first of her class to travel throughout the Supreme Constellations space, enforcing the unification law and solving disputes between planets, or planets’ leaders, when local laws weren’t enough. It was obvious that Judge Beqq was proud to be a supreme judge of this vessel.
Ayahliss pressed her forehead against the cool, nearly invisible surface and sighed deeply.
“What’s the matter?”
She pivoted, her hands positioned in the classic gan’thet stance. Judge Beqq raised her hands, palms forward. “Lost in thought?”
Flustered, Ayahliss lowered her hands. “Yes. A bit.”
“You look sad.” Judge Beqq tipped Ayahliss’s face up with a soft hand under her chin. “Have you been crying?”
“No.” She automatically wiped her eyes, and to her surprise, they were moist, which made her furious. She didn’t want to display such weakness in front of this woman. Judge Beqq had to be the most striking woman she’d ever seen. Red hair billowed down her back in wild curls, only kept in check with a big, ivory-colored bow at the nape of her neck. The black shroud she wore while working only emphasized her beauty and style. Ayahliss forced her jaw forward, her skin still tingling where the judge had touched her. “I’m fine.”
“I know. Can I make a guess?”
She nodded, certain her voice would tremble if she spoke aloud.
“You’re concerned for Rae and Kellen. You’re homesick for your planet, for Gantharat.” Judge Beqq caressed her cheek. “And you hate being cooped up here when you’d rather be down there, in the Disi-Disi forest, helping them rescue Dahlia Jacelon. As much as you love Armeo, he’s a child and you’re a woman.”
Utterly stunned, she stared into Judge Beqq’s brilliant blue eyes, searching for the truth and for the reason why this woman, a stranger, cared enough to say these things.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “My place is with Armeo. Kellen and Rae trust me to keep him safe.”
“I know, and I admire your loyalty. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do your duty toward them and him. I was merely observing why you looked so forlorn when I entered the room.”
Ayahliss blinked to cure the burning sensation behind her eyelids. “I’m perfectly fine.”
Judge Beqq, whose eyes had been brilliant blue only moments ago, looked at her with golden speckles dancing in her irises. Mesmerized, she wondered if this phenomenon was common among her race. Judge Beqq looked human, like Rae, in many aspects, but some subtleties suggested she might have mixed blood. “If you insist,” Judge Beqq said softly. “I merely thought you might need a sympathetic ear since I don’t have anything pressing to attend to.”
“Well…” She regretted sounding so uptight. This woman was obviously powerful and it might be wise to befriend her, if her situation changed. Kellen and Rae might disagree with Ewan Jacelon and Judge Beqq and think she’d endangered Armeo a
nd shouldn’t be around him. “I do feel homesick sometimes.” It hurt to admit the truth.
“You’re far away from home. Are your parents alive?”
“No.”
“How did you live on Gantharat?”
“On my own. I moved out of the monastery when I was seventeen and joined a resistance cell.”
“You’ve lived in a monastery?” Judge Beqq sat down on a small couch below the view port and patted the seat next to her. Ayahliss sat too, inhaling a foreign but intoxicating scent that she realized was Judge Beqq’s perfume. The soft, appealing odor emanated from her long, red curls and engulfed her so completely that she stumbled on her words.
“Yes. All my life, since I was a baby. I was orphaned when I was only weeks old, the monks told me. They raised me and taught me everything I know.”
“The martial-arts skills as well?”
“Yes.”
“Amazing. And you’ve been on your own, without any family ties, since then.” Judge Beqq sounded astounded. “It’s even more incredible that you survived.”
“The alternative didn’t sound very appealing,” Ayahliss said, and grimaced. “And I love my homeworld. I’d die for it, just like I’d die for Armeo.” She was eager to explain. “I mean, it’s not only because he’s our prince who will one day return to claim his throne. It’s because I know him now. I know him for the great boy he is. I’ve never had a friend like Armeo. Sure, he’s younger, but he can also be mature, and I—” She knew she was blushing. “I suppose I sometimes come across as immature and not very trustworthy.”
“I don’t see that at all.” Judge Beqq cupped her chin now. “I see a brave young woman, passionate about whatever she does, who is ready to fight to the death for her principles and, most of all, the ones she loves.”
It was impossible to stand firm before such kindness and such praise. She had felt Rae’s disapproval and trepidation ever since they had returned to SC space from Gantharat. And even if Rae seemed to have warmed up to her now, she was sure their latest adventure would make her change her mind. It was unfathomable that Judge Beqq, who resembled Rae in her demeanor and her commanding presence, would gaze at her with appreciation and something more, something indefinable. It was tempting to bask in Judge Beqq’s words and let them go to her head, but one hard fact remained. She hadn’t fulfilled her duty toward Armeo, and this would certainly be obvious when Kellen and Rae returned.
She thought about Dahlia. More guilt enveloped her like a cold, wet cloak, and she sagged where she sat.
“Ayahliss? What’s the matter? You look so pale.”
“Just thinking of Dahlia. I mean, Diplomat Jacelon.” She refused to shed tears. Instead she forced her spine to straighten. “I did not fulfill my duty as a vhaksamh.”
“Vaxen?” Judge Beqq’s pronunciation of the Gantharian word made her smile despite her strong feelings of self-reproach.
“Vhaksamh means guardian, or giving shelter.”
“And you feel that to justify the Jacelon family’s trust in you, for bringing you back to stay with them, you should have protected Dahlia, saved her.” It wasn’t a question. It was exactly how Ayahliss felt.
“I can’t remember ever having any other purpose than the greater good. When I studied the art of gan’thet, and other martial-art forms, the monks chastised me for being too hotheaded, too harsh. They said I lacked the necessary humility that a person needs to execute it properly. I’m too intense and, despite always being attentive, I still missed the signs that we were followed aboard the Keliera Station. You see?”
“I see. And I don’t see.” Judge Beqq held her by her shoulders in a steady grip. “Listen to me. You are, well, what are you, twenty years old?”
“Twenty-four.”
Judge Beqq looked surprised. “Really. You look younger, even for a Gantharian. However, you were one woman, formidable as you may be, against a team of trained, ruthless mercenaries driven by greed.”
“But I—”
“Listen. When Rae and Kellen get back, preferably with Diplomat Jacelon in one piece, they’ll tell you the same thing. You can’t expect to have been able to overpower them. It’s unreasonable.”
“It may seem so to you,” she said quietly, feeling her palms burn, as if they needed to make contact in a gan’thet way. “The monks taught me well, even if they never quite ‘soothed my soul,’ as they put it.”
“I think your intensity and your soul are just fine.” Once again, Judge Beqq’s eyes shimmered with the golden speckles, and her pale complexion became faint red. Intrigued, and mystified, Ayahliss tried to interpret these reactions. She assumed it was impolite to inquire as to their origin, and still she wanted to know, very badly.
“Mmm, ’Liss?” Armeo sat up on the couch on the other side of the room, rubbing his face. “Oh, Judge Beqq.” He looked drowsy for another ten seconds before his head apparently cleared. “Ma’am. Is there any news? Have you heard anything from Kellen and Rae?”
“I’m sorry, Prince Armeo, but—”
“Just Armeo, please.” Armeo blushed, much like Judge Beqq had just done.
“Very well, then you, and Ayahliss, must call me Amereena, or Reena, when we’re in private like this.”
“So, no news, Reena?” Ayahliss asked, speaking the judge’s nickname slowly, tasting it.
“Not yet. Your grandfather is with the Dalathea’s captain in the mission room. We’ll hear as soon as he does, I’m certain.”
“Yeah, Granddad will be here soon,” Armeo said, and walked over to them. He sat next to Ayahliss and leaned against her, not heavily, but obviously seeking contact. “And he’ll have something good to tell us. I know it.” He glanced up at her, his eyes shiny and his face still flustered after his nap. “He has to, hasn’t he?”
Her heart twisted in her chest at his pleading look, and she wanted to assure him that everything would be fine, but she knew he’d see right through such clichés. “I know that Kellen and Rae are the right people to go rescue your grandmother,” she said softly. “I also know they have the best people possible with them. They make a great team with Commanders Grey and D’Artansis.”
“Ayahliss is right.” Reena wrapped her arms loosely around both of them. “I have an idea. Why don’t we walk down to the mission room? I’ll ask the captain if it’s all right for you two to spend some time in there. Besides, the exercise will do you good, and we can pick up something to eat on the way.”
“Yes.” Armeo stood so suddenly, he nudged Ayahliss toward Reena.
There it was again, that special scent that made her dizzy. Ayahliss lost her breath and pulled back, staring at Reena, who straightened her caftan and didn’t meet her gaze. When Reena finally looked up, she stood and motioned toward the door. “Let’s go, then.”
Ayahliss followed Reena and Armeo, with no clue what had just happened. It wasn’t important, not really, but something had connected and then snapped, and it had been as real as a dry twig breaking in the woods.
Or perhaps it was only her imagination.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dwyn inhaled the medication and glared at Emeron for standing over her while she obeyed her orders. “You don’t have to bully me into doing this,” she muttered. “I feel fine.”
“You weren’t fine yesterday,” Emeron said firmly. “The medical scans show that your lungs have permanent damage. Unless you use this continuously... You know it’s the truth.”
Dwyn drank some water to rinse away the bitter taste. “All right. I suppose it’s not smart to have me risk slowing down the whole party.”
“That might be everyone else’s main concern,” Emeron said, “but not mine.”
She looked up at Emeron where she hovered over her. “No?”
“No.” Emeron didn’t elaborate, but her short-cropped words made something warm and glowing reverberate inside Dwyn.
“All right. I’ll be good. Maybe the medication works so well that it makes me feel cocky about my health.” This cou
ld definitely be true. Raised to ignore any physical weakness, Dwyn usually ignored both pain and illness. Her idealistic parents had never been over-sympathetic toward her, or anyone else ill while living in their ship collective. She had internalized their slight disdain for humanoid frailty and showed empathy more easily to others than to herself.
“We’re moving out,” Admiral Jacelon said from behind. “All set? You all right, Ms. Izontro?”
“Yes, ma’am. And please, call me Dwyn, like you did before. All these military ranks and salutations are enough. I’m a mere civilian and I like to go by my first name.”
“Very well, Dwyn.” Jacelon smiled quickly. “Let’s get out of here before those damn bots show up. We can’t afford to lose any more time.”
“Aye, ma’am.” Emeron grabbed her gear. When she also slung Dwyn’s security carrier onto her back, Dwyn tried to object, but she shook her head. “You’ll be able to walk farther and faster this way. It’s only logical.” She moved as if the added weight didn’t bother her at all.
“Perhaps I should ask you to carry me instead,” Dwyn murmured, half laughing. “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”
“Oh, really. Well, that’s good. I like to be the best in everything.”
Dwyn swatted her arm as they resumed their long walk. The farther they penetrated the dense forest, the taller the trees became. Dwyn walked in front of Emeron. The narrow, barely visible, path didn’t let them walk in pairs. She wasn’t carrying anything but an SC plasma-pulse sidearm, and the protector had suggested she wear fortified alu-carbon body armor under her coveralls. The garment didn’t make Dwyn as hot as she’d feared. In fact, it helped keep her cool in the humid forest.
When she asked Emeron if she was wearing one, she shook her head. “It’s almost certain the bots are after us, and besides, the only ones we have are the ones the SC people brought. I’d rather my junior officers wear them.”
“All right.” Dwyn wasn’t happy that Emeron wasn’t wearing the same protection. “You stay behind me if there’s trouble, then.”
