Raven's Children

by Sabrina Chase

  Raven's Children

  BOOK 2 OF THE SEQUOYAH TRILOGY

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form, with the exception of brief excerpts for the purpose of review.

  Copyright ©2012 by Sabrina Chase

  http://www.chaseadventures.com

  Cover art by Les Petersen http://www.lespetersen.com.au/

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks to the long–‌suffering members of STEW, my editor Deb Taber, proofreader Roger Ivie, and all the enthusiastic readers who cheer me on. You make this so fun it should be illegal.

  S. Chase

  PROLOGUE

  It’s a trap.

  Harrington froze. There were people already at the Kulvar dock, waiting for him. He had expected that, but he really ought to have anticipated they would be armed. Especially since he’d recently toured Kulvar’s extensive criminal areas while chasing one of them—‌the ordinary–‌looking woman standing before the docking hatch. The young man who so strongly resembled her was aiming a rifle at Harrington’s head.

  Ennis had known Moire Cameron was dangerous; they’d been on the same Fleet ship when she’d mutinied. What had happened to him?

  You really have no one to blame but yourself for all this. He’d sketched Cameron unawares while waiting for a ship off of a refueling station. He hadn’t even known her name at that point. Ennis had seen the sketch, and then the rest came out. That she was wanted for her part in a Fleet mutiny, and had been presumed dead in the escape. And that was only the beginning.

  He still didn’t know what had drawn his attention in the first place. To a casual observer Moire Cameron was completely unremarkable in appearance: brown hair, a medium build, neither tall nor short. If he had been searching for an explorer archetype to draw, he would not have chosen someone like her. No striking features, no aura of adventure or daring deeds. It was only if you looked more closely that you saw the focused, observant gaze of hazel eyes under straight black brows, hinting at the intelligence behind them. Things had a way of happening around her. Dangerous things. Did she know that he had shown the sketch to Fleet? Was that why she had tricked him with a false message from “Commander Ennis?”

  That should have alerted him right there. Ennis had made a point of not mentioning his Fleet rank in public on this mission. He drew a sharp breath. Ennis was lying on a crate just outside the hatch, in front of Cameron. Dead, or merely unconscious?

  It was a bad situation, but he hadn’t been shot yet. He forced himself to relax and made sure his empty hands were in view. They must want something. He saw Ennis’s fingers curl slightly once, twice, and he felt a wash of relief. Ennis was alive, and awake.

  “How would you prefer me to address you?” Harrington asked. He knew Cameron would not be pleased if he said her real name out loud.

  The hazel eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m known here as Captain Roberts.”

  “I trust you have not done away with him, Captain?” When she stepped away from the crate, he approached cautiously. “His indisposition….‌”

  “Temporary. If you’re impatient, use one of these.” She tossed him a clear plastic packet, moving stiffly, and he caught it midair. He saw a dark stain on her side that could be blood. So, Ennis hadn’t gone down without a fight. A quick glance at Ennis showed no obvious injuries. How had Cameron gotten the upper hand?

  He glanced at the packet. In addition to a few stimulants, it contained a datatab. “What is this for?” He held it up.

  “I hear you’re curious about me. It has some answers.”

  ”I cannot imagine why you would have the slightest interest in helping me.”

  She smiled. “My enemies don’t want that information out. They will be your enemies too, if you publish it.” This seemed to please her. “Exclusives don’t come cheap.”

  She certainly knew how to bribe a reporter. Harrington looked at the datatab, knowing that if Ennis had told him the truth it was equal parts treasure and explosives. He knew from experience Toren was willing to kill to keep that information secret. They had already put him to considerable personal inconvenience, and he very much wanted to know why. He also wanted to know why Ennis was as determined to find her as Cameron was to escape him. Even if it meant getting shot at again.

  When he looked up again, Moire Cameron was standing in the open hatch door and the young man was behind her, inside the ship.

  “Don’t be looking for me, Mr. Harrington. I’m going to be very hard to find for a while.” The hatch closed with finality.

  CHAPTER 1

  EVERYTHING IS PERFECTLY FINE

  The voices slowly percolated through her perception until they became noticeable. Moire rubbed her eyes, hoping whoever it was would go away. The transit to the sargasso wasn’t fun even with a second pilot, and she hadn’t been sleeping well, either. She should be trying to sleep now. Instead, she was sitting in her cramped office off of Raven’s bridge listening to two of her crew argue, because Alan was in her cabin and seeing him would be enough to start it all off again.

  Her son was finally starting to tell her what Toren had done to him.

  The argument was getting louder, and now she recognized Kilberton’s voice. Maybe she should see what the problem was. She hadn’t realized he even knew how to argue.

  Opening the door, she caught his last few words. “…‌the captain will not like it!”

  Yolanda Menehune was facing him, hands on her hips and dark brows furrowed over narrowed eyes.

  “What won’t I like?” From their startled reactions, they hadn’t known she was in the office.

  “It’s just some cargo,” Yolanda said, smiling weakly. “Nothin’ we want. But I can get real dos price for it. I just wanna take one of the scooters and….‌”

  “She wants to sell morgatane,” Kilberton said, each word clipped and sharp. His dark face was austere and cold. Moire had never seen him this angry before.

  She had to ask. “What’s morgatane?”

  Kilberton’s entire body sagged in disbelief, while Yolanda blinked and struggled for words. “They din’ have it back then, eh?” she said finally. Both Kilberton and Yolanda knew about her lack of contemporary knowledge.

  Moire shook her head. “Never heard of it. It’s a drug?”

  “It is poison.” Kilberton’s lips were drawn back from his teeth.

  “Yeah, like the rest of 'em aren’t,” Yolanda snapped. “It’s hard to make, see? Real sparse to the load.” She paused, looking at Moire’s face, and translated, “only few runners got it, right? You got that, you big mover.”

  Kilberton folded his arms. “The other drugs can kill, it is true. This one always kills. If you take it you must take more, or you die. If you keep taking it, you die. In the station where I was born there was one who had it. The morgatane leaked when the police fought with him. Sixteen people died.”

  Yolanda rubbed her chin, her eyes darting from side to side. “It’s bad, yeshure. You let me sell that other stuff, though. Thought it was OK.”

  It was true Moire had carried on the established tradition that let Yolanda handle illegal cargo, especially now that they were doing salvage. It was quite profitable to the ship, but more importantly it kept up their cover as pirates and their contacts to the criminal underworld. Moire gazed at her cargo master, noticing the way she was playing with her kink–‌curled hair and other little signs that she was uncomfortable. Yolanda knew morgatane was dangerous, all right, and she had guessed Moire wouldn’t allow it if she knew.

  “This may be more trouble than it’s worth,” Moire said. “We don’t need the money that badly. Besides, if it’s that hard to get it will be noticed if we sell it—‌especially when we can’t get more.�
�

  “There are only two combines that deal in morgatane,” Kilberton said, nodding. “They fight wars. If they hear we have sold any, both will attack us.”

  “Hey, how come you straight–‌up know so much about morgatane, hah?” Yolanda said, sticking out her jaw, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  He was silent for a moment, looking down at the deck. “My friend from childhood, he was the policeman who found the runner. He had been hunting him for a long time,” he said softly. He looked up again. “Slavers use it.”

  Yolanda didn’t say anything. Her light brown face was getting red.

  “No morgatane,” Moire said, and Yolanda just nodded. “Are we having money problems?”

  “Nah, we’re good for now. Harvey’d better be there with the money from the sale when we get back to Kulvar, though. Better be there anyway. Tired of doing his work as well as mine. Took me a week to figure out how he kept the ship books.”

  If Harvey Felden didn’t show up they would have a whole new set of worries. The old steward had left to get the money from a ship sale on Cullen, where Moire didn’t dare show up again. He’d left before the incident with Ennis. Moire rubbed her fingertips lightly over the pale, still–‌shiny scars on her palms. More unfinished business.

  Gren Forrest’s distinctive clomping steps entering the bridge made her look up. The engineer had his long black hair back in a folded queue, indicating he was planning on working in an EVA suit. His shaggy brows went up in surprise when he saw her. “You’re up early,” he grunted.

  “She’s up late,” Yolanda said sourly. “She never left.”

  “What?!” All three of them, Gren, Kilberton, and Yolanda, turned to face her. Moire felt a sudden urge to back into her office and shut the door.

  Gren peered at her. “You haven’t been looking good lately. Maybe Fortin should make sure everything’s healing OK.”

  “Don’t wake her up just for that,” Moire objected as he headed for the wall comm. “She got shot up a lot worse than I did. I’m fine, really. I hardly notice it anymore.”

  Gren hesitated, then sighed. “So which one are we starting with? The cargo hauler with the hull breach?”

  Moire nodded, relieved. “You know where it is, right?” she asked Kilberton.

  “In the cluster next to the ship we worked on last time,” he said, and moved to the realspace controls.

  “You coming with us?” Gren asked Yolanda.

  “Yeah, I’m comin’. Got some personal cargo space to fill,” she grumbled.

  “Don’t leave just yet,” Moire said, going back to her office and rummaging through the datatab rack on the desk. Since Yolanda would be outside Raven’s network on the salvage ship, she wouldn’t be able to access any of the data there. Moire found the tab she wanted and went back to the bridge. “While you’re out there, see if you can find any of this.”

  Yolanda slotted the tab in her hand–‌size datapad and quickly scanned it, starting to look interested despite her sulky expression. She loved searching the wrecked ships out in the sargasso. Moire hoped it would take her mind off the forbidden morgatane.

  “OK. You got food fabrication equipment, water recyclers…‌? That’s for stations, not a ship crew. We’re salvaging plenty of supplies.”

  “We’ll need the equipment on Sequoyah once we start living there. There’ll be more people, too.” There’d have to be, if they were going to defend the planet. A lot more people.

  Yolanda nodded. “Makes sense. Now this other one. ‘Any and all weapons and explosives found.’ What’s that about? You think Toren is gonna come in shooting?”

  “They will find out where we are eventually, and when they do they’ll want to take the planet from us.” Moire rubbed her face with her hands and walked back to her office, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over her. “Oh yeah, and make sure you find any guns before Alan does. He gets upset when I keep taking them away from him.” Just like any kid would with a shiny new toy. Once again she wondered why Toren had done such a thorough job of teaching him how to kill. Weren’t they afraid their created workers would turn on them? Of course, they had the control bracelets…‌

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

  Moire turned sharply. Gren had followed her inside. He shut the door and stood in front of it, his arms folded across his chest.

  “I’m tired.” She collapsed into the big chair. “Dammit, Gren, why can’t you be captain for a change? Everything I do just seems to get us in more trouble.”

  His face showed no reaction. “It was the right choice at the time, and it’s still the right choice. Not only is the crew making three times the usual salary, we’ve got first claim on an Earthlike planet. Even with the good pay none of us would be able to afford to live on either of the other two they’ve discovered. You’re doing fine.”

  Moire slouched in her chair, feeling uncomfortable. She needed to tell somebody, and if there was anybody on the ship she could trust, it was Gren. “I’m not focused on my job,” she said reluctantly. “You know how Alan…‌came about, right?” Gren nodded, looking serious. “When I first met up with him I knew somebody had done some awful things to him, but he wouldn’t talk about it. Now he’s telling me more. Two days ago he told me just enough for all the pieces to come together.” She took a deep breath. “Toren has this facility somewhere. They’re making more accelerated–‌growth kids, just like him, and I’m pretty sure they are using stolen genetic material from the NASA protective storage project to do it. Alan escaped, but the rest are still there and I keep…‌” she closed her eyes, swallowing around the tightness in her throat. “I keep thinking about them.”

  She’d solved the problem of how to report the discovery of Sequoyah by essentially giving it to Raven’s crew, even if they still had to keep it from being taken by Toren. But she had an obligation to the other explorers too, to the children they never knew they had. She was the only one left who could help them.

  “Where is it?” Gren was watching her closely, his face hard.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think Alan can tell me. He didn’t even know what planets were when I met him.” Only eight years old and he’d never been anywhere else before he escaped the facility.

  “We need more information,” Gren said, stabbing a finger at her. “Figure out how he got free. Then we can decide if there is anything we can do.”

  It was tempting, so tempting…‌ “We’re going to have enough to do defending Sequoyah,” Moire managed, finally. “I don’t see how we can do anything.”

  Gren grunted. “If the others are like Alan, they can help us with that.”

  That hadn’t occurred to her, but it made sense. “Good idea. I’ll see if Alan remembers anything useful.” She stood up, wavering a little until her balance steadied.

  “First you are going to get some sleep,” Gren said, frowning. “If you don’t head for your cabin, now, I will wake up Fortin. I hope she gets well enough to start cooking again,” he grumped as he followed Moire out of the bridge. “Pico tries, but you can tell he’s never had anything that wasn’t processed to death.”

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  “Are you quite sure you're all right?”

  Ennis cracked one eye open. Harrington was leaning over his bunk. The reporter’s melancholy, aquiline face was outwardly calm, but something in his voice told Ennis he was more concerned than he was letting on.

  “What did she do to you? Perhaps a visit to the medical station is in order.”

  He had to reassure him. Then he could go back to feeling miserable in peace.

  “Muscle relaxant in some coffee.” Harrington’s skeptical expression made him add, “She drank it too. Took something to counteract it beforehand, made me think it was a painkiller.”

  Harrington gave him a long look. Ennis couldn’t tell if he’d convinced him or not, but after a moment Harrington left the tiny cabin. They were on a ship bound for Shipman Point, a station with a Fleet base where he could find a military
courier to FarCom. Every second brought him closer to the moment when he would have to explain himself and what he had done—‌or failed to do.

  How could he make it sound like anything other than “I let her get away”?

  Every time he tried to figure out a reasonable explanation he’d remember what had happened on the dock on Kulvar. Reliving the feel of the gun recoiling in his hand, the sick feeling as he realized an energy blast shouldn’t have a recoil, and then seeing Moire’s shocked expression as she fell, clutching her side, the blood leaking through her fingers.

  He didn’t like to think how close she’d come to dying. It was all Namur’s fault for wanting him to take that stupid gun in the first place. Was it just because it was scan resistant, or because they had stolen it from Toren and wanted the corporation to know their secret had been compromised? Namur was the head of Umbra, the most secretive of the Intelligence groups. He probably had any number of underhanded plots going on.

  Once Moire was wounded he’d had to patch her up as soon as he could. She’d managed to take the gun away then, but she hadn’t shot him with it. When it seemed like she was cooperating and would go back to Fleet with him, he had been willing to believe it.

  Perhaps he hadn’t been as suspicious as he should have been. She’d been devious enough in getting the gun, pretending to collapse. Of course he’d had to catch her. He’d gotten distracted, that’s all.

  Very distracted. Ennis got up and paced, restless and irritable. He’d failed because he’d wanted to believe her. He still couldn’t decide if he’d been wrong. She had taken the gun, but then she’d given it back. She’d drugged him to escape, and then found Harrington to take care of him until he recovered.

  And she had promised to return to Fleet. He felt his pocket, seeking the reassuring shape of the NASA pin she’d given as a pledge of that promise. She’d said it belonged to someone she knew, which meant it was at least eighty years old and probably more. She’d taken a long trip through time and space, leaving all she’d known behind. Mementos of her past would be extremely rare and precious to her.