Shades of Honor (An Anomaly Novel Book 2)

by Sandy Williams

  Lydia dropped Grant’s hand and lunged forward. Ash didn’t defend herself—she deserved this assault—but Lydia didn’t punch or push or tackle her to the ground. She didn’t wrap her hands around Ash’s throat.

  She wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

  The embrace hurt Ash more than any attack could have.

  “I knew it wasn’t true,” Lydia said. “He loved you like a sister.”

  Ash bit the inside of her cheek. She had to keep it together. Trevast’s widow was keeping it together. Lydia was pale, her eyes watering, but she wasn’t curling into a ball the way Ash wanted to.

  “It’s good to see you again.” Only a lifetime of concealing emotions allowed Ash to make her voice sound normal.

  Lydia stepped back. “Grant, you remember your daddy’s friend, Ash, right?”

  The little kid grinned. “You got me the multi-tool for my birthday.”

  “A completely inappropriate gift for a five-year-old, yes,” Lydia said, gently scolding Ash. Ash had bought the pocket-sized tool with the illegal signal jammer to irritate Trevast. It had worked.

  “That’s me.” She smiled through the pain.

  “How long have you been on Meryk?” Lydia asked.

  “Not long.” Too long. Ash should have knocked on Lydia’s door the day she landed, but she’d been a coward.

  She was still a coward. Discreetly she slid the transparent data-drive into a pocket. She should do the right thing now, give her condolences and depart. She didn’t need to make this an intelligence-gathering mission. There was likely nothing to gather.

  “Why don’t you come inside,” Lydia said.

  “I deploy soon.” She retreated a step.

  “Already? I thought they’d give you the three standard months’ leave.”

  “Usually they do.” Run, her conscience told her. Get out of here before you violate Trevast’s memory.

  “Come in,” Lydia said. “Just for a few minutes. I’ll make you a drink.”

  The Kaelais pulled Ash’s attention back to the sky. Her orders were to report to the ship. She didn’t have to look at her comm-cuff to know she was running out of time. The loyalty training served as her clock, tugging her puppet strings with each second that ticked past. That coupled with her cowardice made it almost impossible to accept Lydia’s offer.

  Almost.

  She’d made it a policy to circumvent the loyalty training whenever possible. So if it demanded she leave, then screw it. She would stay no matter how much her conscience wanted her to run.

  She would stay, and she would do this.

  “I might have a few minutes to spare.”

  Relief and worry lit Lydia’s face. It was an odd combination. Maybe she hadn’t wanted Ash to say yes?

  “Great.” Lydia smiled, took her son’s hand, and started toward the row of homes.

  Ash waited a moment, just long enough to notice the movement of a man in the park, the one other person whose attention hadn’t been riveted to the Kaelais like everyone else.

  Ash pretended not to notice him and followed Trevast’s widow. The blue door slid into the white stone wall. Stepping over the threshold, Ash’s throat closed up. She wanted this to be two months ago. She wanted to grin at Trevast as she handed his son a gift he’d specifically forbidden her to give. She wanted him and the rest of the team to be standing in the social room, cracking jokes, acting like civilians and dads and sons and brothers. She didn’t want the memory of their deaths.

  “Run up to your room, Grant.” Lydia looked tense. Nervous. “Have a seat, Ash. I’ll be right back.”

  Ash didn’t drop onto the couch or the half-broken recliner that had been Trevast’s favorite. As soon as Lydia left the room, she walked to the wall that held the family’s entertainment system and found the small port that provided an access point to the home’s databanks.

  She inserted the transparent drive. The system didn’t chime or register the device in any way, but Ash tapped on her comm-cuff, opened the not-quite-legal application that shouldn’t be installed there, and executed an algorithm very similar to the one she’d used on the mission to Chalos II. She had a hunch this would work flawlessly.

  Turning her back to the system, she faced the opposite wall. Lydia hadn’t moved or changed any of the holos on the shelves. A 3D image of Trevast and his family sat happily atop one. He looked real. He looked happy. More importantly, he didn’t look like he was condemning her actions.

  Perhaps he wanted her to be here? He wanted her to pry? To violate the family’s privacy and learn the truth behind the warning he’d whispered as he died?

  Or was that wishful thinking? Trevast’s smile didn’t look as relaxed as before. It was starting to look forced.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. His expression hadn’t really changed. It was all in her mind.

  Lydia returned from the kitchen and handed Ash a steaming cup. Ash took a sip—

  And choked when the alcohol hit.

  “Keelian liquor?” Ash coughed.

  Lydia blinked. “Yes, sorry. I…” She took a long sip from her own mug and didn’t wince from the heat or the burn. Lydia was from Keel. The inhabitants of that planet could tolerate a high level of alcohol, but even Keelians drank their heated liquors with caution. When mixed with certain tea leaves, their drinks were potent.

  Lydia set her mug on the low table beside the couch. “I need to know how he died.”

  Ash almost choked again. “What?”

  “Was Brand’s death quick? Was he… afraid?”

  Ash was tempted to down the full mug of alcohol. Instead, she set it next to Lydia’s on the table.

  “The Fighting Corps didn’t give me details on what happened,” Lydia rushed on. “They said you were a Saricean spy, and that you’d caused Brand’s death. I knew it was a lie—you’re family. I know you did everything you could to save him, to save all of them, but I need to know…” Her voice caught. “I need to know if he suffered.”

  Ash stared at the dirt stains on Trevast’s favorite recliner. Lydia hated that thing. She’d threatened to dump it every time he left on a mission. And every time they survived, he told the team he had to get home to check on his chair. It was still here, still waiting even though he’d never return to check on it again.

  The memories of his last moments pressed in, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her hands prickled, the first sign that panic was closing in. She clenched them into fists and took a step backward. She couldn’t lose it in front of Lydia.

  “I—”

  “You can lie.” Lydia retrieved her mug and clutched it between her hands. “Or not lie. I just need to hear… something.”

  Breathe. That’s what Rykus whispered in her ear to calm her on the Fortune’s Citadel. Breathe, baby. It will pass.

  She closed her eyes and focused on those words, on the memory of his voice, the gentle request. Breathe in and out. You’ll make it through this.

  When she reopened her eyes, the pain was still there, but she was in control. She was steady.

  “I don’t need to lie,” she said. “The enemy threw a flash grenade into our shuttle.” The truth. “It knocked us all unconscious.” Another truth, though a misleading one. “It was over quickly.” A complete fabrication. Though the whole ordeal had lasted less than fifteen minutes, Trevast hadn’t died immediately. He’d suffered long enough to deliver his warning.

  Lydia collapsed on the couch. “Thank you.”

  Ash blocked out the whispered words she didn’t deserve and glanced at her comm-cuff. Her code had tagged multiple encrypted files the databanks had tried to keep hidden. It just needed a few more minutes to lasso those files onto Ash’s drive.

  Ash moved to the couch and sat beside Lydia.

  “Trevast said something on our last mission. He…” Ash drew in a breath, taking a moment to detach herself from the scene replaying in her mind. “Did he ever talk to you about factions?”

  “Fractions?”

  “Faction
s.”

  Lydia’s forehead wrinkled. “What type of factions?”

  “I don’t know. I… I might have misheard him.” She hadn’t. Every time she relived her teammates’ deaths, she became more certain that Trevast knew something about the telepaths.

  “I can’t think of what he might have meant.”

  Another glance at her comm-cuff. The algorithm, using a rhythm Ash had created and customized to Trevast’s idiosyncrasies, was still doing its magic.

  “I probably misunderstood.”

  “Probably,” Lydia agreed. “It had to have been hard for you.”

  Hard for Ash? Lydia was the one who had lost a husband. She’d always looked after Trevast and the rest of the team, sent care packages, made dinners when they were all dirtside. Most military marriages didn’t last, but theirs had. At least it had lasted until Valt’s betrayal.

  Ash’s comm-cuff pinged. She glanced down, saw it was a reminder from Liles to get her ass to the transport.

  “I need to go. I just came by… I just came by to say I’m sorry. And if you need anything, ask.”

  Lydia stood when she did and smiled. “I have a good support group here. Just… just do whatever you can to kill the bastards who did this.”

  “I will,” Ash promised. She wanted to end Valt now, but she had to follow orders first. After the meeting with the Sariceans though… Valt had two weeks max to live.

  “One last question.” Ash stepped to the window so she could peer out a slit in the curtain. “Is there any reason someone would be watching you?”

  “Watching me?” When Lydia moved to the window, Ash took a few steps backward toward the entertainment system.

  “Near the street. Black shirt. Black pants.” She pocketed the invisi-drive. “Comm-cuff in hand but not really looking at it.”

  Lydia nodded. “I see him. But no. There’s no reason someone would be watching me.” She turned to Ash. “Is there a reason someone would be watching you?”

  “Only about a million.” Ash hadn’t noticed him until she reached the park. Careless of her. If he really was following her and not Lydia, then he had to have stalked her from the capitol.

  “Do me a favor,” she said. “Crack open the door. Not enough for anyone to see inside, but just enough for someone to think I’m about to walk out.”

  “Should I call for help?”

  “No.”

  “Ash.” She recognized that tone. Lydia had used it all the time on Trevast when she thought he was about to do something stupid.

  She gave Lydia a reassuring smile. “Everything will be fine.”

  Lydia sighed. “Be careful.”

  Ash walked to the back door, peeked out the window, then exited.

  Soft, purple-tipped faugur grass stretched from Lydia’s row of houses to another row twenty meters away. The lawn was split by a wide trail of flattened grass. It wasn’t muddy despite the rain that had come that morning. Dead faugur absorbed moisture and didn’t like to release it, so it created a dry, almost solid pathway for the handful of people walking between the rows. Almost everyone was in a pair. Two men weren’t, and one of those two men walked just a little slower than the rest.

  The black-clad guy in the park had a friend.

  Tersa had hired people to track Ash before, but neither Friend nor Park Guy looked like I-Com agents or military. They looked like hired thugs. Would the prime have paid them to follow her? It didn’t seem to fit with what Ash knew about the woman.

  Friend’s footsteps slowed when he saw her, then sped up again as if he was continuing his casual stroll. His path brought him closer to Ash. He tapped on a voice-link fitted over his left ear.

  “She’s spotted me,” Friend said.

  Ash expected the warning. She didn’t expect the weapon he drew.

  No way had Tersa sent these men.

  Ash dove when he fired. She was just close enough to kick his knee when she came out of her roll. It knocked him off-balance before he could re-aim.

  She grabbed the weapon and rose, tried to yank it from his hand, but he held on and squeezed the trigger.

  The bullet struck the side of the row of homes; Ash’s elbow struck his chin.

  She kneed him in the groin, jerked the gun free, then maneuvered him into a Hraurkurian Hold. “Twitch and you lose your brains.”

  “You’ve made a mistake.”

  “I don’t make mistakes. Who sent you?”

  “I don’t know what—”

  She pressed the barrel of the weapon into his temple. “I also don’t play games.”

  Someone screamed. Others called for authorities, but at least they kept away. Park Guy would be there soon, and Ash didn’t want innocents caught in cross fire.

  “Is it just you and your friend?” Shortest route from the park was through the homes, but most would be in auto-lockdown already. Likely, Park Guy would come around the row.

  “Go rot in the Pits of Zeverren,” he said in his native language.

  In Ash’s native language.

  Shit.

  “Who the hell sent you—” She looked up in time to see Park Guy come into view, weapon drawn.

  Her attacker’s body and Ash’s ill-fitting armor stopped the barrage of bullets. The impact knocked her backward, but she aimed the dead man’s weapon and dropped Park Guy with a single shot to the head.

  “Damn it.” She shouldn’t have gone for the kill shot.

  Sirens bellowed in the distance.

  “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

  She confiscated the dead friend’s comm-cuff and would have run to grab Park Guy’s, but she didn’t have time to get arrested. She was already going to be late to the Kaelais.

  One cuff would have to do.

  She scanned for an escape route. She could hack one of the homes’ auto-locks, but a cracked-open door caught her attention. Lydia.

  Ash dashed inside. “Thanks. Sorry.”

  “Basement garage,” Lydia said. “Hijack my skimmer and be careful.”

  “Really sorry.” Ash ran to the hall, found the door to the basement, and located the family’s silver-blue skimmer in its parking spot. It only took seconds to break the security lock, then she climbed into the pilot’s chair, overrode the vehicle’s safety measures, and manually sped from the garage.

  Personal skimmers were required to travel via roads on ground level, but Ash joined the mass transit air-lanes, the quickest route to the spaceport. After putting a few kilometers between her and Lydia, she slowed and steadied her breathing, but she didn’t relax. The authorities could easily find her on security vids. If her situation had been different, if she had been any less necessary to the Coalition’s next mission, and if the dead guys were ID’d as anyone other than who they undoubtedly were, she would have been screwed.

  But lucky for her, she now had access to the most powerful person in the KU.

  Ash tapped on her comm-cuff, wrote up a quick message, and smiled.

  Tersa was going to be pissed.

  4

  Eighty soldiers crammed into the Ground-to-Space transport. Rykus took a seat near the front exit, but he felt the news of “Rest in Peace” Rykus’s arrival pass from one individual to the next all the way toward the back of the GTS. It always took a few days for the veneration to subside. He hated the attention, but after nearly a decade, he’d learned to tolerate it. He acknowledged the brief, respectful greetings of the men around him, then tightened his seat harness and settled in for the ride.

  The GTS wasn’t built for comfort. The exit from Meryk’s atmosphere jostled the hell out of its occupants, and the pilot did nothing to make the journey easier. They never did. A healthy rivalry existed between the Fleet and the Fighting Corps, and anytime a spacer had a load of soldiers on board, they made the ride rough. Weak-stomached men and women had long ago learned to down antinausea meds before takeoff.

  Rykus hadn’t taken anything, and his stomach rolled as the roar of ascent battered the small craft. He was used to the sensatio
n, but when he closed his eyes, he remembered the last time he’d been on a ride this turbulent. He’d almost killed Ash. He’d been pursuing her at too-high speed into Ephron’s atmosphere because he’d let her escape on the Obsidian. He’d tried to undo that momentary lapse in judgment and do his duty, but Tersa was right. If he hadn’t made that mistake, if he hadn’t broken procedure, he might never have learned the truth. The existence of telepaths would have remained unknown, and so would have the strength and depth of the woman he’d trained. The woman he was inexplicably drawn to.

  Every minute with Ash rattled him. He was addicted to her, addicted to the heated, rapid beat of his heart when she was near, to the jolt of exhilaration when he kissed her, and to the rush of adrenaline when she took control and did more than just kiss him.

  The roar of friction subsided, and conversation in the GTS picked up again. Rykus frowned at the increased undertone of awe in the soldiers’ voices, but after a discreet glance at those around him, he realized that, for once, their words weren’t directed at him. They were directed at the Kaelais.

  They’d all seen images of the warship, but being in her presence was a humbling experience. Rays of light from the Merykian sun glittered across her hull, causing the vessel’s iridescent tiles to fluff like feathers. It was an illusion, of course, but an impressive one. She was completely unlike the last ship he’d been assigned to, a relic that had, for practical and tactical purposes, been pulled out of a museum. Every ship built in the last century was sentient or semi-sentient. They computed and acted on a massive amount of information without any human guidance, and they learned how to predict the needs and decisions of every soul on board. They were efficient and effective, but as sentient technology evolved, so did sentient warfare. The battles were still controlled by the commanders of the ships, but cryptology became more crucial and complex. The old way of hacking and digitally straightjacketing enemies changed. Instead of encrypting each byte of data with a numbers-based algorithm, human instinct and creativity entered the equation. The result was a sub-battle that was fought by specialists who excelled in a form of cryptology that was more magic than math.