by JC Cassels
“Hyperdrive is overloading!”
Light and gravity distorted around them as the ship surged from realspace into hyperspace.
Their hands flew over the panel as she rerouted and powered down overtaxed systems on the verge of shutdown. It only took seconds, but it felt like many long minutes before the alarms silenced and only the hiss and click of the enviro systems filled the flight deck.
Blade took a deep breath and released it slowly. He eyed her with a mix of adoration and bewilderment. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
She grinned. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“That was fun, Mama,” Dash piped up, with bright eyed excitement. “Let’s do it again!”
Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “Not today, little man,” she said. “I don’t think your father can take the excitement.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Blade stuck his head in the lounge and called to his brother. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you patched up.”
Without waiting for a response he headed aft.
Chase quickly caught up to him.
“How’s Dash?” He shot a nervous glance at the steps leading to the flight deck. “Is he scared?”
“Nah, he’s enjoying himself,” Blade said. “I thought I’d give him and Bo some time to get acquainted. He’s pestering her with questions about how everything works. I give him two hours before he’s trying to fly this bird.”
“Is she – is she – she won’t hurt him, will she?”
Taken aback, Blade stopped in his tracks. “No, but I’ll hurt you if you ask me a stupid question like that again.”
Pale from pain, Chase swallowed. “Look, Dev, I wouldn’t have thought she could either, but…”
“But what?”
“I saw her shoot that guy in the face,” he said. He held up his fingers like a pistol and mimed shooting. “She didn’t blink. She just shot him. His head melted. She did that.”
“And if I’d been the first one up the ramp instead of her, I’d have shot him.” Blade gave him a few seconds for that to sink in. “In the face. Without blinking. She saved your life. I wouldn’t be so quick to find fault if I were you.”
Chase shook his head. “I had him. He was down…”
“He was drawing his sidearm,” Blade said. “If she hadn’t fired, he would’ve.” Shaking his head, he stepped lightly down the steep stairs to the lower deck. “A couple of cracked ribs are much easier to fix than a gunshot wound.”
The hatch to sickbay slid open and the lights flickered on.
Biting back his annoyance, Blade busied himself gathering the equipment he needed to tend his brother. He set the hand scanner beside the bone fuser on the metal tray and directed his brother to take a seat on the gyrotable.
Moving gingerly, Chase complied. He eyed his brother warily.
Blade dug through the apothecary for the meds suitable to his purpose.
“This is more like it,” he said. “Thank you, Pryczek.”
He set the hypospray on the tray and pulled the whole closer to the table and helped Chase take off his jacket and shirt. He powered up the scanner and the table diagnostics, studying the readout. Once he pinned down the exact location of the fractures, he configured the bone fuser.
“How can you be so calm,” Chase asked him. “My hands are still shaking.”
Blade didn’t bother to look up. “I know. I can see exactly how much adrenaline is pumping through your body right now. Hold still.”
“Those people meant to kill us!”
Blade’s lips twitched. “Chase, somebody has been trying to kill me since the day I was born. Lift your arm.”
Chase complied.
Mercifully, Chase had exhausted that line of conversation. Blade worked in silence for several minutes before his brother ventured another comment.
“My life won’t ever be the same again, will it?” Chase said quietly.
Hell. What a loaded question.
“No,” Blade said. “I’m sorry.”
He bit back any elaboration. Chase would find out for himself soon enough just how much his life was going to change. Blade’s lips tightened into a grim line. It was easier to focus on repairing his brother’s bones. How could he ever prepare Chase for the lack of privacy, the surrendering of one’s autonomy to the House of Marin? Better to say nothing and let him enjoy what little time he had left to belong only to himself.
Chase cleared his throat. “Am I – am I gonna have to be Overlord?”
Blade chuckled. “Maker, I hope not.” The courtiers, dignitaries, and hangers-on would eat his brother alive.
“But you are.”
“Probably.” Blade nodded. “Andre’s been grooming me for it for years.”
“I’m sorry.” Chase’s tone softened. “I had a taste of what that life is like. I know you, Dev. For you, it’d be a gilded prison. That’s why you ran, isn’t it?”
“Partly,” he said. Glancing up, he met his brother’s compassionate stare. “Andre wanted me someplace safe where he could keep an eye on me. I’ve never been very good at sitting quietly when there’s work to be done. I could see intrigue and political maneuvering, but nobody else was even willing to acknowledge it, not even Andre. I wasn’t about to hide on Trisdos and leave Bo to face that kind of danger on her own, not when I could do something about it. Ian, Royce, and I went on the offensive. It was the only way I could keep Bo safe.”
“Those orders Ian had,” Chase ventured. “They said I was the Heir and you were a clone.”
“That’s what they said.”
“But if I’m the Heir and you’re a clone, then that means you’re not really a person.”
“True.”
“And I have to be Overlord.”
“And if I’m the Heir and you’re a clone…”
“Then I’m not a person,” Chase said. “Dev, I know I’m a person. You can’t tell me I’m not real. I just asked Tese to marry me…”
Blade’s hands stilled and he arched an eyebrow at his brother. “What did she say?”
“She said yes, but…”
“Then congratulations are in order.”
“Dev, listen to me! I can’t marry her if I’m not a person,” Chase said through his teeth. “Clones can’t marry.”
Blade set the bone fuser aside and called up the data from the medical scanner. He rested a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Chase, I am just as concerned about this as you are. Maker knows we both have a lot riding on where we come from. But I want you to look at this.”
“Look at what?”
“I’ve been doing genetic scans on you. Sundance has an excellent lab.” He turned and tapped in a command. The display lit up. “There are always genetic markers in artificially created genes. Here are yours, and here are mine. They’re close, really close. We are most definitely biologically brothers. But the anomalies that would indicate that you had been taken from me, or that I was taken from you are simply not present. We’re brothers, hell, we could be twins, but as far as I can tell, neither of us was replicated from the other.”
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
Blade shook his head. “Sorry, no.” He switched off the display and dosed his brother with the hypospray. “As for which of us is the Heir, it could be either of us, or neither. As soon as Andre is up and lucid, we’ll pose the question to him. Until then, try not to make yourself crazy worrying about it.”
If only he could take his own advice.
***
The quiet woke him.
Blade slid his hand along the cool sheet, reaching for her warmth and finding none. The narrow space beside him on the bunk was empty, the heat from her body had long since dissipated. He rolled onto his back and stared into the darkness.
He should have expected it. His own emotional upheaval must have dulled his senses. Rubbing his aching eyes, he sighed, silently chiding himself for sleeping through her departure. Steeling himself a
gainst the chill air on his naked skin, he rolled out of the bunk and reached for the loose, insulated trousers he’d left on the hook just inside the locker. The cold deck plates vibrated gently underneath his bare feet as he left her quarters.
The soft, amber lights of the ship’s nocturnal mode cast enough illumination along the companionway to keep passengers from walking into the bulkhead. He didn’t need them. He could find his way through Sundance blind if he had to. Guided by the flickering light spilling through the open hatch of the combined galley and rec area, he moved silently through the ship. He paused just outside the hatchway, reluctant to interrupt her.
Blue light from the holopad played across her pale face in the darkness. Grimly lined with the icy fury of an avenging angel, Bo’s beautiful features seemed even more deadly in the strobe effect from the recording she watched. Grief and anger roiled from her in palpable waves, hitting him in the chest with enough force to steal his breath. Her eyes fixed on the holopad, she slowly refilled the glass on the table from a nearly empty bottle of Gallis Rye and lifted it to her lips, downing half of it. Her nostrils flared and the corners of her mouth tightened.
Blade looked to the holopad and his stomach clenched at the grisly scene playing out in silence in the air above it. It had been five years since he’d first seen this holo. Maker willing, he’d hoped never to see it again. He didn’t need the audio. He remembered every word, every sound.
A middle-aged, balding man stood to one side, directing Larianne Varo as she placed a ceremonial dagger in Royce’s right hand and closed his fingers around the hilt. Bhruic Barron lay unmoving on the floor. His eyes widened and flashed with fear as Varo raised Royce’s arm and plunged the dagger into Bhruic’s chest, wiggled it to free it, only to repeat the action again and again.
“Sundance, end playback,” he said, stepping through the hatch.
The holopad cut off, leaving the compartment lit by the dim glow of the amber lights. Panels and readouts gave off steady red lights, but did little to pierce the darkness.
He touched the control panel by the hatch and manually raised the lighting, but only as much as the holopad had radiated.
“You shouldn’t be watching that,” he said. “You don’t need to see it, especially not now, not by yourself.”
She stared at the empty air above the holopad with the haunted look of a soldier who had seen too much to ever fully come back to humanity. “You’ve seen it.” It was an accusation, not a question.
“I’m the one who recovered it from Varo,” he said, “the night I killed her.”
He glanced once toward the darkened holopad before turning his full attention to her. He moved to her side and stood patiently, waiting for her to look up at him. Still staring into the darkness, she lifted the glass to her lips and drained it. She reached for the bottle, but he moved quickly, removing it from her reach. This time, she did look up at him.
“I don’t need a nursemaid,” she said.
The last time he’d seen that deadly cold, furious glint in her eyes, he’d been staring at her over the barrel of her blaster, pointed at him, and she’d ordered him out of her life.
“You don’t need to be drinking alone, either.” Taking the bottle with him, he pulled another glass from the stores. “I’m not the enemy, Bo. I want justice as much as you do.”
Her lips twitched. “I don’t want justice,” she said. “I want to make them pay. I want to reach into Galen’s chest and pull out his heart and hold it in my hand so he can see it. I want to see the look on his face as I squeeze it…”
“You always were bloodthirsty.” He settled onto the seat across the table from her. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”
“Had you seen this before you killed her?”
He shook his head and set his glass on the table. “Royce told me what happened. It was all I needed. Imagine living through that scene, and being the one with the knife in your hand.”
Her eyes shuttered, she looked away. “I can’t even begin to.”
“It nearly destroyed him.”
She closed her eyes against her grief.
He poured a shallow drink into both their glasses and capped the bottle. Bracing his elbow on the table he lifted his glass. “Hey,” he said softly.
Pulling herself back to the moment, she met his expectant stare.
He shook his glass slightly, drawing her attention. Taking the hint, Bo lifted her own.
“To Edge,” he offered.
Bo nodded. A small, sad smile tugged at her lips. “To Edge.”
In silence, they drank to her brother.
He studied her face, gauging her emotional state. She was in control, but a maelstrom simmered just below the surface, threatening to break free.
“I get it,” he said. “I really do. You have every right to get completely shit-faced. I know that grief over losing your father is never going to go away. You’re within your rights to hate Galen and Larianne.” He set his empty glass on the table and covered her hand with his. “You know as well as I do that it doesn’t end there. Those bastards hurt me, too. They killed my brother Niall trying to get to me. They killed my mother, shot Chase, tried to destroy our marriage. I am tired of this. Tired of always being on the defensive and wondering where they’ll strike next. Aren’t you ready to take your life back?”
He released her and pushed away from the table. He strode over to the holopad controls and ejected the data card from the input port. He held it in his hand for a long moment before he turned and met her stare. “This is the last piece we’ve been waiting for, Bo,” he said firmly. “Edge died for this information – everything we need to prove you didn’t have anything to do with Frostfire. He gave himself for you, for me, for the Commonwealth. Don’t you understand? We’ve both been in exile. With this, we can go home…together. We finally have a chance to be a family – to raise a family.”
Her brow furrowed. “I start a civil war if I go home.”
“You start a civil war just being married to me.” He smirked. “Since we’re starting a war anyway, we may as well do it from the comfort of a fortified position, don’t you think?” His smile faded. He tucked the data card into his pocket. “You may as well know, Royce and I are going to war against Rameus, Lord Scull, and Galen, with you or without you.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll understand if you don’t want any part of this. You and Dash should stay on Kah Lahtrec with Chase and Andre until it’s over…”
Bo pushed her empty glass aside and rose. With a lift of her chin, she squared her shoulders. “And what makes you think you stand a chance in hell of taking Trisdos back without me?” She lifted one eyebrow. “You need the Black Wing if you hope to have a prayer of succeeding.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I was hoping you would say that.”
***
Something didn’t feel right.
Nix paused the game, and the simulated space battle faded around him, revealing his dimly lit bedroom. He sighed. After Bo’s simulator, his games just didn’t have the same appeal. He peeled off the VR headset and canted his head, listening to the night sounds. Silence. Not even insects buzzed in the garden beyond his open windows.
Weird.
Tossing the headset on his bed, Nix stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the rear garden.
Nothing stirred in the darkness.
A sudden chill rippled through him, pimpling his skin. He hugged himself for warmth and rubbed his arms, smoothing his flesh with the friction. His brow furrowed.
The night wasn’t that cold.
Dismissing his concern, he ducked into his room and snagged his jacket from the back of the chair adjacent to his desk. White and black slashed across the jacket, punctuated by strips of red and green. He crammed his arms into the sleeves and tugged the stiff leather garment over his shoulders. He stroked the pad of his thumb over the Pintubo Racing patch over his heart. It had taken some doing, but fortunately his brother had been complete
ly oblivious when he’d bought an official Blade Devon racing jacket. He was most proud of the bold autograph scrawled underneath the logo. Okay, so it was mass-produced…, but still.
If Gray had put it together, he’d have had a glumrat. He hated Blade Devon. Blade had made him look like a fool in front of his new friends, General and Regent. Truthfully, Nix admired Blade all the more for it. Those two neo-maxi zune dwees had it in for Bo. For that reason alone, Nix hated them. Bo had always been good to him. She’d been the only person who ever showed him affection since his mother had died. And Gray… Well, his own brother had him sent to prison just so he could get Bo out of the way.
Nix stared into the darkness.
His hands shook as Akita filled his memories. He still woke in a cold sweat, crying from nightmares of those weeks.
Gray had put him there.
Bo had been the one to rescue him.
Even the guards had been sadistic and cruel.
Guards…
He frowned.
How come he hadn’t seen one of the perimeter guards on patrol?
The last time it had been so quiet…the last time the perimeter guards weren’t on schedule…it was the day he’d first met Bo. That was when Bo had breached Gray’s security and had come to kill him.
Nix’s heart pounded. He shoved himself away from the open door and ran out into the hallway. Hesitating just outside his room, he cast about for any sign of danger. His stomach roiled.
Without thought, he dashed through the unlit corridor.
There should be lights. What had happened to the lights?
He thundered down the curving stairs to the ground floor. At the bottom of the stairs, he tripped over something in the darkness. Crashing to his hands and knees, he reached for whatever had tripped him.
His hands touched something slick and sticky. It was warm and reeked of something metallic and…sweat!
Holy Maker!
It was one of the guards!
Nix cried out and jerked his hand back, scrambling away on his hands and knees before gaining his feet. He stumbled toward the dim light coming from his brother’s office.
