Queen & Commander (Hive Queen Saga, #1)

by Janine A. Southard

  “I saw you made Queen and Commander,” he said.

  “And you got Devoted and Medical.”

  She’d noticed his scores and remembered them? He hadn’t realized she cared enough to look him up. He was just the new guy. She had local friends, childhood friends, but she’d searched out his name. It couldn’t have been easy. Luciano Totti was on a far different reporting board than Rhiannon Jones, separated by sex and alphabet.

  He shoved trembling fingers into his pockets. Here was proof she wanted to be friends. Maybe, before she’d become Queen, she’d even wanted more than friendship.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  Outside the school, adults and children alike pushed and weaved their ways down busy sidewalks. The sweaty overcrowding almost overwhelmed the sugary tang of safety-fueled hydrocarbon from all the roadskimmers. Unlike the city’s hush for the Test, today teemed with people.

  “Let me walk you home,” she said. “I want to discuss something.”

  Her voice was serious; her square jaw, firm. A new Queen had but one reason to talk to a new Devoted: she wanted to sound him out. She wanted him to join her Hive when they were older and more prepared. He could hardly breathe.

  Jesus, he hoped that was what she wanted to talk about.

  As far as he was concerned, Rhiannon was the perfect Queen. She was respectful, intelligent, and absolutely gorgeous with dark hair and a delicately pointed nose. When they argued, she mirrored his hand motions, and he knew he talked too much with his hands compared to the Dyfed-born.

  She felt like home.

  This could be the moment when his life revised itself for the absolute best. Rhiannon had gotten into New Cardiff. Maybe she would use her Test clout to suck him into the top school on the planet too. She would talk to people on his behalf—as a good Queen should—and upgrade him from generic Medical to Neurosurgeon.

  She would love him and care for him, and he would worship her for the rest of their days. She would be his new church, full of truth and promise and a secure future.

  “Let’s go to the park instead,” he said, knowing that she liked to spend time there. He didn’t want her to see the dingy, dinky basement apartment he’d found when he’d moved to Dyfed at the school year’s beginning. Most of his money went to his family back home. Even with two jobs, he could barely afford the space.

  She wrapped his wrist with her fingers and led him across the street when the signal changed. Cold afternoon sunlight bounced off metallic atmo-scrapers and lanced Luciano’s eyes. They dodged pedestrians and bicyclists, jumped away from the curb when a skimmer driver cut too close, and did so in silence until they reached the park.

  The park’s vibrant grass outshone his dusty, colonial memories. The oak trees dripped with flowering clusters, catkins hanging from the branches.

  “My mom made me pick a tree here,” Rhiannon said, her voice softer than the put-upon words suggested. “I had to dance last week on my birthday.”

  Luciano valiantly attempted not to envision that. Before he’d left Nuova, the parish priest had warned him about the druidic rites of the Dyfed-born. She’d have danced naked in the starlight, reaffirming her bond with the pagan gods of nature. Would he get to attend next year? Family and friends could attend those rites, he’d been told. Would it be required? What would the priest have to say about that?

  Rhiannon stopped walking. Her eyes rested on his face for milliseconds before flicking everywhere else.

  “I want you to join my Hive,” she said. Her normally animated features were blank. Her gaze fixed firmly on his right shoulder.

  She did want him! She’d seen something in him that made her pluck him from the herd. She would mark him as her own before they were separated by university and potential rivals.

  She kept him from opening his mouth to accept. “Don’t answer yet. It’s not what you think. This isn’t a Queenlet angling for your allegiance in advance. I’m asking for your Devotion now. I’m putting together a crew and hoping to qualify for a ship in orbit.”

  That was like finding that your disappointing cask of cheap white wine was actually pale ale. It wasn’t what you’d expected, but it could round out a meal. After all the effort he’d made to get to Dyfed, to wend his way into the system and set up a legacy for his little sister, could he leave now? Could he give it all up?

  But it wasn’t really giving up. He’d be doing exactly what he came here for: finding the perfect Queen, one who took him seriously despite accent and upbringing, one who had respected him as a friend before they’d been cast as Queen and Devoted.

  Plus, it sounded like she was trying for an Explorer ship, which came with prestige, especially if he got into xenobiology. But how would he train in the necessary arts? The Senedd certainly wouldn’t offer to pay his tuition again. Would he make enough money to bring his sister to Dyfed before she got too old and corrupted by the local school systems on Nuova? Maybe Aurelia could be a Queen someday too. His thoughts whirled.

  The day froze around them, springtime sun notwithstanding. Rude businessmen muttered expletives at the pair blocking the street.

  Luciano broke the stillness. He thudded to his knees on the ground-stone sidewalk. “My sword and my service, my body and my blood, my agency and my anima. These all belong to you, so I swear.” The traditional words of the strongest Oath, old and loyal and never to be broken.

  She didn’t place her hands on his shoulders or his head.

  “What? You didn’t!” she sputtered. “I had no idea—” She cut herself off and tried again. “Did you just swear to me in the street?”

  He’d seen a scene like this in a romcom just the week before. Like its heroine, Rhiannon was still in shock.

  “So I’ve sworn,” he prompted.

  She hissed through her teeth and brought her hands up to crumple the roots of her hair. Will she reject my service? Will she reject me? The thought sat in his stomach until he was as full as an egg.

  Finally, she reached out to lace one hand’s fingers through his brown-black hair. “I accept your sword and service. Your body and blood are mine to direct. Your agency and anima are my agency and anima, now and forever more. Call on me in times of trouble, as I will call on you, but always you will be my first defense.”

  A snake uncoiled in his stomach as she spoke the words. He didn’t need to guess anymore. Formally and legally, he had his perfect Queen.

  The right Queen could conquer all. She’d lead him to the glory he deserved and the money he needed for his family. Their lives would happily intertwine for all eternity, just like in the films.

  She pulled him to his feet and linked their arms. He’d write that letter to his mother and sister tomorrow. He would tell them all about his new Queen.

  Chapter Five: Number Six

  Before another pointless post-Test class, Rhiannon checked off-campus students’ Test results. They’d been posted alphabetically on a leaf-thin board in front of the school. But, of course, there wasn’t enough room on the board, so the name-and-score rotated every few minutes. A-J. K-Q. R-Z.

  And the Administration doesn’t think that might cause traffic accidents?

  To meet the minimum qualifications for the Cauldron, she needed one more crew member. And she didn’t have any good options amongst the boys she knew.

  Approaching strangers was risky, yes. They might tell someone official about her intended Hive’s unorthodox makeup—it includes a rival female, Your Honor!—or about the sketchy Devotion levels her crew felt. Or about the fact that absolutely none of them were qualified to do anything on a spaceship.

  But the alternative was going short, and that was guaranteed to fail. Oh, she supposed Victor and Gavin might know another disaffected youth. But she didn’t want to rule Victor’s Hive. She was going to have her own.

  She’d been pleasantly surprised by Gavin. Did Victor understand just how well-suited to Devotion his vocally-subversive friend really was? During lunch, she’d met with him to pore over his essays. The
y’d talked about goals and dreams, as well as his off-planet history. For someone who didn’t understand Devotion or even the local fashions, Gavin said all the right things. He trusted her judgment. He’d do well in her service, so long as the others kept him in line regarding what it meant.

  After school, she and Gwyn borrowed her dad’s roadskimmer and went out to visit one Alan Jones, M.Phil., M.S., number eight on the results board she’d checked that morning. Dad hadn’t seemed at all worried that she wanted to check out a university in the Senedd, one that she wasn’t going to attend and didn’t know anybody taking classes at. If Mom were still around—

  But Mom wasn’t around. Hadn’t been for seven years.

  That was fine. Mom might even have understood why she wanted to do this thing, form this Hive. Mom might have been proud of her for agreeing to help friends in need. Mom always said loved ones came first, and she’d definitely have liked Gwyn, if they’d ever met.

  Mom wouldn’t have been able to help her, though, approval or not. Four generations, and Rhiannon would be the first Queen in the family line. No Queens, no Devoted, before her.

  But she came from a line of quick minds. Perceivers followed invisible threads of logic, and Rhiannon’s peers had never kept up with her quick thoughts. Mom could, though. Sometimes she wondered if her mother had hidden just how good her analytical skills were, for fear that she’d be taken away from her family.

  Maybe Rhiannon wasn’t the first one in her family to misdirect the Test.

  “This’ll only take a few minutes, I hope,” Rhiannon said, eyes on the road. “But after that, we’ll go into the capital and check out the covered market. Won’t be able to do that once we’re in space, right?” Ever since they’d been old enough to go on their own, she and Gwyn made a point of getting out to the giant market once a month. Crammed with rickety booths, stacked high with silly trinkets you’d never need and precious goods you couldn’t afford. The covered market always made for good looking, if not actual shopping.

  Gwyn sighed. “Right,” she said. Her voice was low, muffled. Unless the other girl was buried in her pad, getting an early start on no-longer-all-that-relevant homework, then something was wrong. And Rhiannon thought she might know what.

  “We don’t have to apply for the ship, you know. Don’t let Victor talk you into things you don’t want to do.” Bran’s blood, it’s hard to be comforting or confrontational while driving. She hadn’t liked the way Victor talked on Gwyn’s behalf the day before.

  “I want to.” A quaver in Gwyn’s voice belied the sentiment.

  Rhiannon wanted to ask Are you sure that you’re sure?, but there wasn’t a good way to do that. Rhiannon knew what it meant to be a good best friend, though. She’d keep quiet and make sure Gwyn got the future she deserved.

  They drove in silence. Gwyn had always been quiet, ever since they’d met in grammar school. Rhiannon had forgotten her pad at home that day, and Gwyn had tilted hers. Sharing. Like children were supposed to do. Back then, Gwyn’s name was Lois, before Rhiannon had nicknamed her for her white-blonde hair.

  And when the teacher’s wrath came down on them for socializing during a class period, Gwyn hadn’t acknowledged the teacher’s diatribe at all, soundlessly continuing to let Rhiannon read over her shoulder. Best friends ever since: Gwyn the silent support, Rhiannon the confrontationalist.

  Still, Gwyn’s silence held a different flavor today. A flavor that worried Rhiannon. Maybe this Hive-building wasn’t a good idea.

  They approached the university. When they spotted its short spires that defied the firstcomers’ underground cities as well as the second wave’s atmospheric domes, Gwyn exhaled loudly and rushed into a soliloquy. “It’s just, I want to stay with Victor, yeah, but leave Dyfed? My family live here. And,” she choked through her indecision, “what was the point of my parents’ exiling my brother from our home if I’m not going to take what’s been offered? I’m going to be the first person in my family since Settlement who gets to go to university, and I’ve got this brilliant future in animal husbandry. My parents are thrilled, more thrilled than they were the day I told them that you’d nicknamed me Gwyn.” The de Vries family had celebrated their youngest’s ascension to society’s rarefied ranks in the most overblown way—like a proper Welsh girl. As if a name could affect Test results.

  But today, neither young woman laughed at the anecdote. Because it was true. Gwyn had more options than anyone in her family for generations. Going along with Victor’s scheme might make her happy in the short run but it’d ruin her family’s plans. Not to mention what her brother would think.

  Rhiannon chanced a look over as she drove slowly, cruising for a parking spot.

  Gwyn’s hands were clenched on her pad, its screen dark, while she looked out the window at the roadskimmer jungle. “Yeah, Jack got into trouble in the neighborhood, but my parents wouldn’t have sent him away if they hadn’t thought I was going places. Sometimes I wish I’d never had a brother, or met Victor, or even,” she hesitated but ploughed on, “become friends with you. If I didn’t have you, the teachers wouldn’t take me as seriously, and my parents would still call me Lois instead of insisting on your nickname. And I love you, and I love my life, but if I’d just been Jack Mark Two, then I wouldn’t be choosing right now.”

  Rhiannon knew she was the only person Gwyn could or would talk to this way. It roused a warm rush of affection at the trust it implied. She did understand, but she couldn’t make up Gwyn’s mind or sort her feelings for her. She could only ensure that the other girl had choices.

  Choices which Victor might deny her in his zeal for the plan.

  Rhiannon parked the skimmer and turned to her best friend. “Whatever you choose to do,” she vowed, “I’ll make sure it’s got a tidy solution. Just because I’m sounding out this Alan Jones, just because the other guys are writing essays and Devoting right and left, it doesn’t mean we have to go through with this. You tell me what you want, today or tomorrow or next week, and it’ll happen for you. Okay?”

  Rhiannon had never felt more like a good friend, like a good family member. Never felt more like a real Queen, promising to look after someone else with all the influence she could muster. She thought of her mother, the way she’d always insisted on family loyalty.

  This is my family, Mom. And she needs me.

  “I can put a stop to this whole thing. No one can get a Hive ship without a Hive Queen, and the guys won’t find anyone else in time.” She put a hand on Gwyn’s thigh, right where the paler girl’s gaze rested. “The boys aren’t important. They’ll get over the disappointment. You just let me know what you really want.”

  Gwyn nodded, teary eyed, but not actually crying.

  Rhiannon took that as a good sign.

  “You stay here while I go meet y dyn hwn. Gotta keep our options open.” The other girl was too delicate for strangers right now. “Take some time to think, or to write some mails, or whatever. I’ll be back flash-quick.”

  With that, Rhiannon left the rows of skimmers behind. A campus map directed her to the university’s science building. Usually on an excursion to a new place, her stomach would jump and jitter. But her successful attempt at comforting a member of her Hive reassured her. The nervous bucks weren’t a bother. She could ignore them.

  She didn’t know for sure if this Alan Jones would be in the science building. But it seemed like the place to start hunting for a sixteen-year-old Devoted. Particularly for a potential CreaTech with two degrees, including a Master’s of Science.

  Inside the building, professors in faded mad-scientist coats—complete with super-tight sleeves that wouldn’t dip into potions and acids—strode from room to room, mumbling deep thoughts. Students staggered behind them, loaded with overfull carryalls and odd contraptions she didn’t recognize.

  The floors were a much sturdier stone than the ones at her school. The ceilings appeared to be supported by knotwork columns. She had no idea how knotwork columns might function. If th
at wasn’t an optical illusion, maybe Alan could build her something like it. If he joined her. If his specialty was spatial relations and building things.

  “Excuse me.” She interrupted an university student walking a little slower than the others. “Do you happen to know Alan Jones? He’s about my age.”

  The older student growled—actually growled. “That bastard kicked me out of a computer lab. Three times. He’s just a kid, but oooh noo. He’s all the professors’ favorite. Damn him.”

  Before she could thank him, the young man stormed off. At least she knew she was in the right place. She knew Alan liked computer labs, possibly ones in this area. She knew that people could identify him.

  She traced the path her recent informant might have taken until she found something that qualified as a computer lab. Through a glass-plated door, she could glimpse rows and rows of connected stations. One whole wall was a still life of snaking wires and dancing connectors. Only two people were inside, one young and one in his seventies. They were ignoring each other. She’d take the chance that this was a free-for-all kind of place.

  She walked near-silently on cushioned floors until she reached the younger looking one.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Augh!” He turned his seat faster than the teleportation myth. His wide shoulders were heavily muscled from lifting either weights or computer stations. Hazel eyes focused on her from a rounded face with obscenely plump lips that made her think about kissing.

  Not that she wanted to kiss him. Or anyone. They’d only just met.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  She’d studied him for too long. She refused to blush. “Do you happen to know an Alan Jones? I’m looking for him.”

  Before he could answer, the older gentleman stood up.

  “I’ll just be leaving, then,” he said. When he reached the door, he paused to give her a little bow. “Ma’am.”