The Starlight Rite

by Cherise Sinclair

  Had that secretary forgotten her message?

  Maybe Dain just didn’t want to see her. Or thought she was a crackpot. She turned and paced back, this time to an even older Earth song “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Perhaps rather bloodthirsty for a hymn, but it had a fine martial melody.

  Behind her, the hum of the restraint field died. She spun around. Dain had come? Thank you, god. Or goddess.

  A hooded man stood in the doorway, slapping a z-rod in his palm. “Well, hello, Armelina. Apparently the reports of your demise were greatly exaggerated.”

  Her breath caught, and she jerked backward. That voice. Terror flooded through her so hard, she felt her body shake. She forced herself to inhale. “Nathan.”

  “Very good.” He bowed slightly. “Come along now.”

  “No. I’m not going anywhere with you.” She eyed the z-rod. Did he know how to turn it on?

  A slight hum answered her. He motioned with the rod. “Out, or I’ll zap you so hard, you’ll never wake up.”

  Screaming wouldn’t work. Shrieking slaves were common in this place; no one paid attention. She edged past Nathan and out into the corridor. The guard at the far end was sprawled on the floor, his head in a pool of blood.

  “I hit him harder than I’d planned,” Nathan said as coolly as if he’d confessed to using a swear word. He pointed down the hall. “We’ll go out the back door.”

  With Nathan behind her, Mella stepped around the guard’s body. Her stomach twisted at the blank, staring eyes. Dead.

  Like her, if she left with Nathan.

  Just past the desk, she jerked back and snatched up the guard’s wooden chair. She whirled, holding it up.

  Nathan swung the z-rod. She blocked it with the chair, knocked away another attempt, then jabbed the wooden legs toward his face.

  He jumped back. “Damn you, you worthless—”

  “Mella!” Canna burst through the door from the reception area. “Mama’s giving the man your clo—” She skidded to a halt beside Nathan, staring at the blood and the guard.

  Prophet no! “Canna, run!” Mella yelled, lunging forward with the chair.

  Nathan sidestepped and grabbed Canna by her hair. “Stop, Armelina, or she’s dead.” He held the z-rod against the girl’s cheek.

  Terror for the child blasted through Mella. She froze.

  Body stiff with fear, Canna stood unmoving, her eyes wide and her little face terrified.

  “I set the rod on high. The charge will kill her, Armelina.” Nathan’s thin lips twisted into a smile. “Put the chair down, and come here like an obedient wife.”

  The doors were closed—no help in sight. “Let her go, Nathan,” Mella whispered.

  “Throw it over there, and I won’t stun her.”

  No choice. Mella tossed the chair into the corner behind her.

  With a high laugh, Nathan clicked something on the z-rod and slapped it against Canna’s side. The girl dropped without a sound.

  Canna. For a second Mella couldn’t move, staring at the little body on the floor. “You promised!” She charged.

  Nathan slammed the metal rod into her neck. Fire burst through her as every nerve short-circuited and spasmed. Oh Prophet, the pain! She went rigid, then collapsed when he pulled it away.

  He caught her in his arms and put her over his shoulder. Hauling her like a dead bundle, he carried her out the back way to the access road behind the hall. A solacar waited there, engine humming.

  As the car door slid open, Mella screamed and screamed, but not a sound escaped her frozen throat.

  * * *

  Dain stood in his outer office, listening to his secretary.

  “That’s the message from Armelina Archer, General,” Esosha finished and folded her hands on her desk, waiting for orders.

  “Thank you,” Dain said. With an eidetic memory and an unsurpassed talent for organization, the secretary was worth her weight in gold. Especially now. She’d even included Mella’s ums and hesitations.

  Despite the mess he had on his hands, Dain smiled. As he rubbed his aching neck, he thought how much he wanted the little Earther back in his arms. By Cernun’s spear, Mella had good reason not to trust him, considering what Hanwell and Nilard had said. She’d watched the enforcers—his enforcers—kill her friends and blow up her ship.

  Thank Herina that she had escaped the explosion, however she managed it. He headed back into his office and sat behind his desk.

  A soft chime. Then Esosha’s voice said, “General, Lefnant Olanard is reporting.”

  “Put him through.” Dain waited until the enforcer appeared on-screen. “Do you have Nathan Hamilton in custody?”

  “No, sir.” Rigidly at attention, the lefnant stared at a place past Dain’s shoulder, his customary casual stance missing.

  Dain’s jaw tightened. Nilard had not only betrayed the enforcers, but also his Milianard kinline, where the majority of members served in law enforcement and security. His kin would feel disgraced. Young Olanard felt disgraced.

  As the Arewell kinline would be shamed by Hanwell’s treachery. Blackwell would be furious. “What’s the problem?”

  “Nathan Hamilton checked out of the hotel earlier. I’ve put out an alert for the solacar he rented.”

  By Cernun, what else could go wrong? “Send enforcers to the spaceport to ensure he doesn’t leave the planet.”

  “Yes, sir.” Olanard’s face blinked out.

  “General, I have Gregior also,” Esosha called through the open door.

  “Go ahead.” Dain waited until Gregior’s face appeared, the Indenture Hall behind him. No one standing beside him. “Gregior, where’s Mella?”

  “She’s not here, sir.”

  “Did Blackwell pick her up?”

  Gregior shook his head.

  Rising, Dain gripped the edge of his desk and growled, “Where is she?”

  Despite being at least a mile away, Gregior took a step back. “Sir, I’m trying to find out. She’s not in her cell. An attendant’s been murdered, and the admin people are—”

  “Be that your boss?” A man appeared beside Gregior, his backcountry accent thick as he said, “I be Handler, head of processing. A man with hood over his face removed the slave named Mella. The security vid shows him carrying her out the back exit. She be unconscious. He killed a guard and stunned a child. Tracking on the unshuline be instituted right now. Do you wish the data uploaded to your unit there?”

  The husband had her. Dain’s hands tightened, and the edge of the desk crumbled. “Upload to here and to the city units also. Make tracking the unshuline a priority. We need to get this murderer before he kills again.”

  “May he burn on Ekatae’s sands.” Handler bowed. “All shall be as you say.”

  As Handler hurried away, shouting orders, Gregior waited. “Sir, what are—”

  Dain held up a hand. Visions of Mella covered in blood—dead—vied with his control. He smothered the fear, iced the fury, and forced his mind to work. The insane Earther had Mella in a solacar, so he could easily cut her throat and toss her out.

  But her body would be found and identified, revealing that she hadn’t died in the ship explosion, but later. Hamilton must know he’d be the first suspect. Even if he managed to escape Nexan justice, the questions would tie up his inheritance on Earth for years.

  Hamilton wouldn’t have access to explosives. Burning a corpse left teeth behind. Dain flinched at the thought.

  He took a breath. That cold, calculating Earther must know his freedom depended on getting rid of his wife without leaving a body. The only sure way to accomplish that expeditiously would be to leave the planet.

  Dain exhaled, his muscles easing. Hamilton wouldn’t realize Archer’s survival had emerged—or that anyone other than him had discovered Mella’s identity. He would realize no one searched very hard for escaped unshulines. Without a positive ID on the murderer, they couldn’t extradite Hamilton from Earth for the guard’s murder.

  “He’s g
oing to head for the spaceport, Gregior. Order his ship held.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  * * *

  Mella’s arms and legs felt as if a million pins poked into them. She hung limply over Nathan’s shoulder as he threaded through the crowd at the spaceport. Shouting and cursing, people pushed to get to the docking gates. The place seemed incredibly busy. After a minute, she remembered—Artema’s festival days had ended last night. The Nexans and off-worlders who’d come for the celebrations would leave today. Apparently, a lot of people showed up for the five days of festivities, even though only Nexans—and me—took part in the Starlight Rites.

  A huge man slammed into Nathan, knocking Mella off his shoulder. Like a rag doll, she landed heavily on the concrete, unable to move to break her fall. Pain exploded in her ankle and shot up her leg. Oh Prophet.

  Cursing foully, Nathan grabbed her arm and dragged her to a corner out of the flow of traffic. Face streaming with sweat, he bent, hands on knees, breath heaving like a bagpipe.

  Surreptitiously, Mella massaged her arms and legs. If only she could get them to work…

  Eventually, he straightened and glared down the people-clogged concourse, then at her. As if she was causing him trouble.

  She smothered a bitter laugh and cleared her throat, surprised that her voice worked. “You know, your contacts here or on Earth can’t help you if you murder me now. Even this backward planet can identify bodies.”

  He wiped his face with a white handkerchief. “I’m not stupid, Armelina. I’m going to cycle you out the air lock somewhere between the stars.”

  She stared at him, and a chill crept up her spine. His plan could very well work. Everyone thought she’d died in the explosion. After her phone call, Dain might believe her, but with no ID scans, they’d have no legal proof she’d survived the explosion. Without a corpse… Muscles tightening, Mella eyed the crowd around her.

  “Going to try to run?” Nathan gave her a thin smile. “Go ahead. Then I’ll have a good reason to beat you. On this fucking planet, no one cares if a slave gets whipped.” His hands closed into fists. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble. I’m going to enjoy hurting you, Armelina, before you die.”

  The gloating satisfaction in his voice turned her stomach, and she swallowed against the roiling bitterness. He was insane. Evil.

  He tucked his handkerchief into a pocket, then yanked her to her feet. She stood, wobbling. The numbness had disappeared, but her injured ankle burned like fire. She staggered and almost fell when she put weight on it.

  Wrapping his arm around her, Nathan held her up. “Better walk, Armelina. If you fall, I’ll drag you by your hair.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The siren cleared a path for Dain’s solacar. He’d almost reached the spaceport when his comunit beeped. “This is Dain.”

  “Handler here. The unshuline be at the port. Direction she heads is toward the south end.”

  “Thank you, Handler. Inform me if her course changes.” He’d guessed correctly.

  “Yes, General.”

  Dain abandoned the solacar at the massive arches and headed for the public concourse at a dead run. His comunit beeped, and he flipped it on, only to receive static. He veered toward a wall with a transmission node. “This is Dain.”

  “This is Gregior. I’m at the port, but I can’t lock down Hamilton’s ship. It’s already cleared and sitting on a fastpad.”

  “Scorch him!” Dain shoved people out of the way, fighting against the crowd. “Cordon off the ship so he can’t reach it.”

  “I’m trying, sir, but port security is assigned to the gates. My men are caught about halfway down the concourse. There’s no getting through this mess quickly.”

  Dain shouldered his way another few steps. A woman fell in front of him. He pulled her to her feet and moved on without pausing. “Do your best, Gregior. If that ship lifts, the singer is dead.”

  “Yes, sir.” The comunit clicked off.

  * * *

  I’ll be dead if he gets me to the ship. The thought echoed in Mella’s head as Nathan half dragged her through the crowd. Her ankle wouldn’t support her weight, so she had to lean on him, although his touch made her skin crawl.

  To speed up their progress, he veered out of the packed center of the concourse and closer to the vendors by the walls. They passed a drink booth and a familiar popcorn stand; the crunchy kernels were sold on every planet with humans. She caught the scent of the spicy meat ubiquitous on Nexus.

  A strain of lively music drifted over the noise of the crowd like a clean mountain wind.

  Mella lifted her head to see where the music was coming from. Unthinking, she set her weight on her bad ankle. Pain ripped through her, and her leg buckled. Nathan’s grip failed, and she fell hard onto her knees on the cold concrete. Her ankle throbbed as if squeezed in a vise, and she rocked against the agony.

  Nathan gave a nasty laugh and backhanded her, knocking her sprawling. “Nice try.”

  Blinking back tears, she pressed a hand to her stinging cheek. What she’d give to be big and strong. He’d die for what he’d done to her friends. To Canna.

  He yanked her to her feet. “You pull that again, and I’ll kick your teeth out.”

  He would too.

  An arm around her, he set out. Each touch of her foot on the ground felt like knives stabbed through her ankle. Tears pooled in her eyes, then spilled over.

  The bouncy music grew louder, and Mella spotted the source. In a backwash of a jutting corner, some itinerant musicians had set up, playing a guitar and pianete. They had a decent sound system, enough to reach quite a ways through the crowd, and the bored people waiting for admission to the reserved fastpad area were tossing royals onto the makeshift stage.

  Thinking only of his destination, Nathan headed right for the fastpad gate. Mella clenched her teeth. He’d bribe the guards, go to the head of the line and straight to the ship. Her chance at avenging Cap and Pard and Johnnie and Canna would vanish.

  And she’d die.

  Bitterness churned inside her. How funny that everybody in the galaxy thought Armelina Archer was already dead. Like that vid she’d seen showing an altar holding her name and a miniature harp. Flower bouquets had spread like a garden around the little memorial. If they only knew…

  Mella sucked in a breath. If they knew…

  She and Nathan stood only a few feet from the two musicians. Both male. She was female, and some Nexan men considered her exotic. Would the musicians think so?

  What can I lose?

  Twisting in Nathan’s grip, she jammed her knee right into his private parts.

  With a horrible low sound, he released her, his legs buckling. He curled around himself, covering his groin.

  Left without support, Mella staggered, and agony seared through her ankle. She couldn’t even walk; fleeing wouldn’t work. The musicians were her only hope. She threw herself on the plank stage.

  The singing stopped abruptly. “Sands, Miss. Are you hurt?” The younger one, barely into his twenties, helped her onto his stool.

  “By Mardun’s sword, she’s a slave, Caratill.” The other young man had a scraggly beard and worried brown eyes. “We’ll get in trouble if we help her, Brother.”

  Her helper took a step back, and she gave him a meltingly sweet smile, even as terror fizzed through her stomach. If Nathan got up, if he said she was trying to escape… Hurry, hurry, hurry. “I wanted to ask if I could sing. Just one song with you.”

  The brothers glanced at each other. “That be a different request,” said the older one, and then he shrugged. “What do you want to sing?”

  “‘Lament for a Lost Spring.’” Gratitude at such kindness almost brought tears to her eyes. She glanced over to where Nathan had started to move. “I wrote it when my sister died.”

  Ignoring their look of this woman is crazy; she thinks she composed Archer’s song, Mella set her fingers on the pianete’s keyboard. She closed her eyes. Took a breath. Pulling up the musi
c in her mind, she let it flow down her arms. The opening strains—bouncy like Kalie’s attitude, then turning somber as the young life was snuffed out before truly being lived.

  Without having to think, she raised her voice in the song as sadness twined around her like a vine in winter, the shriveled leaves falling to a cold ground.

  As the noise of the crowd slowly died, Mella opened her eyes. She saw the people’s shock as they realized who she was—that Armelina Archer truly lived. She felt their joy. Her song, what she’d considered her present to the world, flowed back, transformed by their love into a gift for her in turn.

  When she slowed into the final strains, she realized there was more to say. She needed to tell what Dain had taught her, so she continued on, adding what she had so recently learned: There is life after death and love after mourning.

  Tears glittered on the faces of the people gathered near the platform, and her own cheeks were wet. “Thank you,” she whispered to those who had listened. Even if she died now…

  Arms came around her from behind, and she jolted, yet the embrace was gentle, and then Dain’s cheek pressed against hers. “I think you ripped my heart out with that one,” he murmured in her ear.

  She saw Nathan being yanked to his feet by enforcers. He glared at her, and she didn’t care. She turned her face to Dain, feeling the strands of her soul return from the music, rewoven into something new.

  Dain tightened his arms around her.

  Here was her anchor, her safe place in the universe. Her home.

  * * *

  That evening, Mella stood beside the refresher at the enclave. After sending Nathan off with his enforcers, he’d tucked Mella into his solacar. He hadn’t wanted to talk about anything. Said they’d discuss it all later. His face had been hard and cold, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

  And then he insisted on showers for both of them and carried her here into his refresher without listening to her protests. Apparently, she might be Armelina Archer, but she was still his unshuline.

  Of course, he dominated just about everyone this way. On Earth, they’d call him the alpha of the pack.