He chuckled. “Nonsense. They’re not looking for you. They want whoever it is aboard that Kyleena ship. Strange. Your father is brave to detain anyone from the Empire. He wants war too much.”
“He always gets what he desires.”
They both stared at the fiasco as the Tarafian police pried open the exit hall doors and flooded inside. An alarm sounded, startling everyone in the terminal and drawing their attention to the hall.
“I think your father’s desires are strange. What man desires an early death?”
She shook her head.
“That’s what he’s doing. He’s a fool if he thinks he can defeat the Empire. I’ve been watching the news…”
“You always watch the news.” She turned her attention to the other arrival hall. “I wish Lensi would get here.”
The doors slid across their runners, and the automated voice announced the de-boarding of Irnian Shuttle Flight 537. Weary-looking travelers spilled out of the passage and hurried on their way, casting wary glances at the police. Razi recognized the ample shape of Sister Lensi garbed in Habiri black, her face shrouded as she led a large group of people all dressed the same way. The guise enabled the refugees to move from place to place without question, not that the Alga authorities would ask many questions.
He stood, Sima clutching his hand, and went to greet Lensi. She hugged him tight, squeezing out his air.
“Okay, Raz, get us out of here,” Lensi whispered. “I don’t want my man taken away.”
“You haven’t tired of him yet?” He winked at her, amused by the color flushing to what little he could see of her freckled cheeks.
“Not yet.” The band of shrouded refugees filed out after Razi and his wife. They packed into a commute shuttle and remained unnaturally silent as the vehicle powered up, hovered, and then shot out over the Alga main road.
The rows of seats were wide, enabling Razi, Sima and Lensi to sit together. The shuttle smelled like peaches. Razi guessed it was used for produce shipments at times. The people of Alga were a resourceful lot. He scooted closer to Sima and leaned forward to speak to Lensi.
The Habiri Sister glanced out her window. “We were watching that Kyleena Crusier. I don’t think it was a manned flight. Five decoy shuttles landed by it. Any idea why the police are after it?”
Sima clenched her hands in her lap and answered. “My father sent them. They were Tarafian officers. Probably something to do with his crazy scheme to battle the Empire.”
“Oh.” Lensi sat back in her seat and pulled the veil from her face. Razi noticed she looked thinner than the last time he saw her. Her cheeks were less round, and her smile faded fast. She’d always been a happy person, round and vibrant, wiser than she let on. The occupation of Irnia was affecting her.
She shot a glance to one of the refugees and then averted her eyes. “So, I missed the big wedding?”
Razi chuckled. “It was a small ceremony. We wanted it that way. Just the two of us.”
Sima nodded.
“What about you, Lensi?” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “When’s your big day?”
She snorted at him, answering with a taint of sarcasm, “Habiri Sisters can’t marry. I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “You’re a troublemaker, Raz.”
“I am not.”
She rolled her eyes, her cheeks balling as she tried to submerge her smile. “Ever since you met her.” Nudging Sima with an elbow, Lensi belted out a laugh.
Sima joined in and for a moment, Razi thought everything would be fine now. The war was far away on the other side of the planet. There was no way Shiemir Alonwei could stand against the Empire. Though the Shiemir was now his father-in-law, Razi wouldn’t mourn the man’s death. Alonwei was pressing his luck. It was only a matter of time before he stepped too hard on Kyleena’s toes and received an unexpected visit from an assassin. The Empire didn’t play political games for long.
He eased back in his chair and planned what he would do to his bride once they were alone. A smirk spread across his lips. He turned away from his wife so she wouldn’t notice and watched the refugees across from them. One had pulled out a data sharer and was busy tapping at the screen. The Unangi are advancing at least, he thought, recalling the village where he and Sima had hidden away before they came to Alga. Most of the tribal people there wouldn’t have known what a data sharer was.
The refugee glanced up at him, and he noticed her odd, golden eyes and the fairness of her skin. She wasn’t Unangi at all. Razi smiled and nodded at her. He turned his face to the window to watch the dimly lit farmland pass by. It reminded him of his youth, of days and nights hunting for food in the jungle to fill a stomach that never could be sated. He remembered his hunger and the cries of his younger sisters. They were starving. He had given up his freedom to save them. He wondered where they were now.
The shuttle sped through the villages and outskirts of Alga to the little cottage rental set-up managed by Folar. Before they’d left, he’d checked with his landlord and found there were enough vacancies to accommodate Lensi’s newcomers. She always had money to pay their way, thanks to the Church of Habiri.
They parked near the office and everyone exited. Like soldiers, they awaited Lensi’s orders and obeyed, remaining outside until she returned from the office to pass out keys and give assignments. “We’ll meet there,” she pointed at a ramada by the guava orchard, “at suns’ rise for the daily worship.”
The refugee with the data sharer slipped the device into her robes, took the key Lensi offered, and hurried away, the first to find a room. Razi noticed there were other non-Unangi people present, a few Kelafians even. The kindness of the church’s outreach was apparently expanding. “Lensi,” he interrupted her. “You mind if we turn in early tonight?”
She winked. “Not at all. I’ll be in number three. In case you two get tired of each other and want to drop in for a visit, make sure to knock first. I’m not over the time zone change. Feels like morning to me.”
Razi chuckled. “I plan to be up all night, too.”
Sima slapped his arm playfully. He scooped her up and carried her away. Behind them, Lensi went on with her wards, droning out the same spiel of instructions, “Here’s your key, no talking to strangers, no going out without your veil…”
Razi set Sima down outside their cottage, pulled the scarf from her face and kissed her hard. She gasped at first, sucked in a deep breath, and caught up to his passion. Their tongues met and swirled, tasting and exploring in a now familiar dance. He ran his hands along her hips, urging her backward against the wooden door.
“Not…gonna…wait…’til we…get inside?”
“Mmm.” He lifted her hips, pinning her body to the door with his grip. His hunger for her intensified as well as his need to hear her make that small moan in the back of her throat like she always did. “It’s a nice night. Dark enough that no one would notice us here.”
“She closed her eyes and hugged his neck. “I think I’d rather be pressed against the wall in a more private area, if you don’t mind, husband.”
He glanced to the right and noticed one of the refugees standing outside her cottage, her veil pulled down. Black hair fluttered in the breeze and she stared straight at them. “Maybe you’re right,” he murmured. “Seems we’re already drawing an audience.” He released his bride and unlocked the door, holding it open for her to hurry inside.
Chapter Five
Com
Melia watched the silhouetted couple slip into their cottage. It was dark out; the double suns had set hours ago and her vantage wasn’t the best. She had no qualms about spying. If the couple wanted to fuck outside in the open then they should expect watchers. She sat in a woven lounger on the porch and stared at the stars. All around, insects sang night songs, clicking and creaking. In the distance, she heard the whisper of tree leaves blowing in the breeze. Her heart thrummed in her chest. She closed her eyes, thinking she was finally
home.
The night wore on, and the sounds of life toned down. Melia withdrew her data sharer from her robes and began reviewing Shiemir Alonwei’s file. He was in his forties, had been married once—wife deceased. One daughter—deceased—murdered by the Unangi Rebellion in Irnia weeks before Enrue’s hostile coup. Newscasts alleged that his daughter’s death was the reason for Enrue’s occupation of Irnia. It was plausible, Melia decided, but she didn’t think it was his only reasoning. Hemec fuel in the Unangi mountains might very well be closer to the truth as a motive.
She clicked through older pictures of the man, visions of a handsome, but stoic figure standing in lines of politicians, or formal images of him signing treaties. There were only a few with his wife by his side, a frail-looking woman who seemed too young for him. Curious, Melia clicked on the wife’s file and read over her cause of death.
Released from Taraf Global Med on 9, Hossia 2093, Shiemir Alonwei’s wife, Ruria Alonwei, died of complications from a rare virus she contracted while providing food and supplies to the Unangi people. She is survived by her husband and their daughter—”
Footsteps crunched in the gravel. Melia glanced up at the man walking in front of her cottage. He stepped awkwardly, a cane in his right hand. She’d noticed him on the ship when she hurried to catch up to the line of Habiri followers. A hood shadowed his face, though he nodded and waved politely in her direction before carrying on.
By now, she was certain the authorities had discovered the dead woman in the cargo area of the Irnian shuttle whose place she’d taken. She wondered how long it would be before the Habiris realized she was not one of them. Hopefully, she’d be gone by then.
She snapped her data-sharer closed and stood, stretching her arms high. Her back cracked. “Mm. Need to lie down for awhile,” she muttered. Melia entered her cottage and flicked on the solar light. Its luminance was nowhere near as bright as standard lighting, but she didn’t mind. She glanced over the single room and smiled to herself. “This is my kind of place, small, simple, and private.”
She flopped on the bed, reopened her data-sharer and keyed in the code to initiate a non-traceable com-link. The image of Enrue’s meeting room in the Irnian palace flashed on screen, but no one was there to acknowledge her call request. “Ah. Interesting.”
She rolled on her back and sent a call request to his flagship. “Are you heading home?” she asked the data-sharer. “Hiding from the Empire yet?” The screen flashed and a mousey-looking, gray-haired lady appeared.
“Shiemir Alonwei’s secretary. Can I help you?” Her eyes narrowed.
Melia sighed. “This is Cossia Dargon from the Empire. I need to speak to the Shiemir.”
“One moment.” The secretary clicked off the sound and stepped away.
Melia twisted a lock of her hair round and round her finger, impatient. Soon the secretary returned, a curious smirk plastered across her wrinkled lips. She reached forward and clicked on the sound once more. “The Shiemir said you missed his formal greeting party at the Alga Dockport.”
Melia snickered. “Did he? Tell him I had other matters to attend to more worthy of my station than speaking with lowly Tarafian officers.”
The secretary snorted. “Of course.” She appeared to be filing data-cards, the tick-click of plastic hitting plastic familiar.
“Well, is he going to answer my com, or do I have to stare at you?”
“The Shiemir will be with you shortly,” she sputtered without bothering to look up.
Tapping her fingers against the edge of her data-sharer, Melia realized what the secretary was doing. “You can’t trace the com. It’s blocked. So stop trying, and stop wasting my time.”
The secretary frowned and stepped out of the camera’s view.
Moments later, the Shiemir’s face filled the screen. His hair appeared damp, and dark circles hung beneath his magnificent hazel eyes. His shirt wasn’t buttoned, the collar half open and revealing a nest of dark hairs across his skin.
Heat ran through Melia’s body. Disheveled as Enrue was, he no longer seemed as unapproachable. She studied his chest. “Did I wake you?” she asked.
He raked a hand through his hair and scowled. “It’s the middle of the night on this side of the planet. You know that well, I assume. Surely, they train you about time zones and etiquette when dealing with officials.”
“Yes, Shiemir, they do. Perhaps you’ve forgotten the etiquette required when the Empire sends an emissary to meet with you. I don’t recall sending police being considered polite or a sign of fellowship.”
“Fellowship? Is that what the Empire desires?” His mouth twisted in an angry frown. “Rest assured, little Cossia, that I intend no fellowship with the Empire.”
“Our meeting—”
“As I said before, tell the Empire to send someone of higher rank. I’ve no desire to meet with you.” He leaned forward and Melia thought he might disconnect. Instead, his eyes fluttered over the screen, and shought decide he was trying to glean a clue as to her whereabouts.
“I will meet with you whether you desire it or not. You can count on that, Shiemir.” She forced a smile at him and reached to disconnect. Just before she did, he spoke.
“Are you threatening me?”
“I am merely doing my job. If you do not comply with the required meeting and agree to the proposition, I will be forced to report you to the authorities.”
“I wish you would, little Cossia. That’s my point. I see no reason to meet with you or to agree to the meaningless promises of loyalty and peace to the Empire, which I’m certain, is all you have to offer me. In case you haven’t noticed, the Empire is corrupt. It’s run by corporations rather than people. They care nothing for rights, or freedom, or quality of life, only the furthering of the Empire by way of settlement, acquiring resources—legally or not. They don’t care who they destroy in the process.”
His chest heaved, the dark hairs curled and enticing. She wished he was not so far away. He certainly spoke with conviction, but she’d seen many a politician and listened to the crap they liked to camouflage and dish up to the masses. “And you do care?”
He raised his forefinger, wagging it at her. “I’m not the only one.”
Melia gasped. She held the sharer closer to her face for emphasis. “Then you invite a quick death. You know that, don’t you, Enrue?”
His hand fell away and his look of confusion flickered before being replaced by determination, the statuesque glare he wore in all the old photos. “We will see.” He punched at the screen, disconnecting their com.
Melia snapped her sharer shut and tossed it to the other side of the bed. “Oh yes, we will see soon enough.” She curled up and pulled the blankets over her body, sighing at their clean scent. It would be a shame to leave Alga. Probably more difficult after the twin suns rose and she saw more of its natural beauty, but she knew what had to be done. “I wish you weren’t so stubborn, Shiemir.” She clutched a pillow to her chest and imagined killing him. There were many ways to do it, but she wanted to be close to him when he sighed out his last breath.
Chapter 6
Sash
Enrue left the com room and returned to his bed. He lay awake for some time in the dim light thinking about the Cossia messenger the Empire had sent. She was striking, her eyes like none he’d ever seen. “Probably a half-breed,” he mumbled under his breath. Not that he cared. He didn’t desire the attentions of a woman anymore, or so he tried to convince himself. There was only the war and an end to it in his favor. He didn’t have time to play games with Melia. Games wasted precious time.
If she made her way to Taraf and managed to get close enough, he’d have her detained, share a few words with her and either send her back to the Empire or have her executed. He closed his eyes, but the vision of her face would not leave his mind. Was she in bed? It was night in Alga, if that’s where she still was. It did look like a blanket and pillows behind her. In turn, he’d just showered and woken from a restless sleep.
>
He counted the clicks of his antique clock. It hung over his bed ever reminding him of the day his wife had gifted it to him. Ruria was beautiful in a unique way. Her body was small and delicate, and her mind never ceased. They were not as close as a husband and wife should be. One night she’d returned from an extended holiday to Earth and brought back the clock. Moments of passion were few and far between in the years they shared. After he unwrapped the gift, she’d pressed her mouth to his and they’d made love, conceiving their only child. He wondered what possessed her then. Was it being parted for so long?
Enrue sighed. He blocked out the past and tried to sleep a little more.
* * * *
The metal crates arrived at midday. Enrue stood in the landing bay watching his servants load the monstrous containers onto air lifts. The two Unangi statues were to be put on display in the greeting room of his palace for a time, at least until he thought of a better use for them. He’d already sent guards into the mountains to find a leader of the tribal people in order to determine the statues’ value to the Unangi people.
He rubbed at his eyes, still tired from not sleeping. No matter how many times he tried to push the Cossia’s face from his thoughts, she kept returning. “Then you invite a quick death. You know that, don’t you, Enrue?” she had said. It wasn’t her threatening statement that bothered him, but the fact that she’d used his first name. It violated protocol. If anything, my rank or surname was acceptable, but Enrue?
Grunting, he started away from the bay to adjourn to his office. He had more documents to complete, three treaties to sign and a virtual meeting with a leader from another system interested in joining the rebellion against Kyleena. The long walk to the upper level of his palace had his mind wandering right back to Melia. There was something about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Behind her obvious sex appeal, no doubt a reason Kyleena had hired her, he sensed a strength that reminded him of himself. A power held behind a great wall, a façade.
Urden, God of Desire Page 3
