Kinsman's Oath

by Susan Krinard

  D'Accorso held up her hand, and the golden rings on her fingers glittered in the dim light. "There will be plenty of time for questions later, Scholar-Commander." She stared into Ronan's eyes. "I presume you are willing to answer any questions we may have, and that you have many of your own."

  "Yes, Captain." He searched for the proper phrase. "I am at your service."

  "In that case," she said, "I think it best if you retire to the infirmary with Dr. Zheng for a complete examination and an interval of rest."

  She smiled, and all at once Ronan understood why humans used the expression so freely. Captain D'Accorso's smile illuminated her face like a full moon reflected in the Sea of Ancestors.

  "I am in good health," Ronan said, noting the sudden acceleration of his pulse. "My goal was to reach human space. Can you take me there?"

  "Do you refer to the Concordat, or the Nine Worlds?" a new voice demanded. The man who entered the bridge was young and fit, dark-haired and of medium height, but it was not his physical attributes that triggered Ronan's body to battle readiness. The newcomer's carriage shouted both authority and hostility, though his shipsuit was as unadorned as the captain's.

  Here was an enemy. Ronan pressed his lips firmly over his teeth and held the other man's gaze.

  "Captain D'Accorso," the stranger said, "I only now received report of this man's boarding of the Pegasus. Why was I not informed?"

  "Ser Janek," she said, "you are an observer aboard this ship. I am not obligated to inform you of every decision."

  "But this—" Janek looked Ronan up and down, all the muscles in his face tense with dislike. "This man claims to be a refugee from the shaauri. It's well known that the most powerful Kinsmen telepaths went over to the stripes when the Second War began. If he is one of them—"

  The captain swung on Ronan. "Can you read my thoughts?"

  Her question lodged in his gut like a bellyful of spoiled meat. "I am not Kinsman," he repeated, turning his stare on Janek. "When I was young, they stripped my mind of any such abilities."

  "Then he was a telepath," Janek said. "It's vital that he be interrogated immediately. Your cooperation and assistance in this matter is essential, Captain."

  Her expression had lost every trace of congeniality. "You have no authority to instigate such an interrogation, Ser Janek. I suggest that you adhere to your assignment."

  "If you endanger Pegasus with your disregard for basic security…"

  She turned on her heel to face him, legs braced. Janek responded in kind. Ronan stepped in front of Janek before he realized he was moving.

  The warrior called Kord aimed his weapon at Ronan's chest. "Stand back," he ordered.

  Ronan acted without thought. A casual slice of his hand caught the barrel of Kord's gun and pushed it toward the deck. Only the warrior's practiced grip on the weapon kept it from flying across the bridge. At the same time Ronan assumed the stance of Blood Waiting before Janek, prepared to strike.

  Janek threw up his hands in an awkward attempt at self-defense. Kord recovered and slammed into Ronan, using his weight to throw Ronan off balance. Ronan kept his feet. He met Kord's gaze in the way of one acknowledging the worthiness of his foe, and saw the surprise and answering respect in the young warrior's eyes.

  "Enough." The captain's voice rang with unquestioned command, and all eyes turned to her. Janek took advantage of the moment to back well out of Ronan's reach.

  "They are animals, Captain," he said, brushing his shipsuit as if it had been contaminated by some foul purulence. "You've seen it for yourself. If he was raised among them—"

  "I will give your opinion all the consideration it deserves." Captain D'Accorso set her back to him in the most brutal of insults. Janek spun sharply on his bootheel and strode from the bridge.

  "I'll have no fisticuffs on my bridge, gentlemen," she said to Kord and Ronan. "Stand down, or I'll throw you both in the brig."

  Kord slid back a few centimeters, his gaze never leaving Ronan's. He kept his weapon at his side as if he disdained to use it. Ronan straightened, his mind strangely heavy with thoughts and emotions he couldn't name.

  "I regret, Captain D'Accorso," he said, turning his hands palm-up. "I was"—he sought the correct human word and could not find it—"unmindful."

  Captain D'Accorso sat down in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "At ease, Ser O'Deira." She addressed Ronan with a lifted brow. "If your ill-advised actions were on my behalf, Ser VelKalevi," she said, "I can assure you that they were unnecessary. Janek is prone to wild speeches with little intent behind them. There is a proverb on Dharma: 'The wave is loudest when it reaches its end.'"

  "The shaauri have such a saying as well," Ronan said. " 'One is a foolish wraith who paints on the stripes of Will.'"

  Captain D'Accorso tapped her chin. "I think that something has been lost in translation," she said, "but that can be remedied in time. I trust that you understand I cannot permit any further displays of this kind, Ser VelKalevi?"

  "Yes, Captain," Ronan said, turning his head down and to the side.

  She relaxed, a slight dropping of shoulders and easing about the mouth. "I will take you at your word. And since you have met some of our crew under less than ideal circumstances, you should at least be introduced." Her sharp gaze swept over the guards and the black-haired cyborg. "Ronan VelKalevi—"

  "Ronan," he corrected humbly. "Only Ronan."

  "As you wish. I have already given you my name, and that of this ship. Our departed visitor was Ser Phineas Janek, civilian attache' representing the Concordat and the Archon of Persephone."

  Ronan quickly revised his initial impressions of Janek. Persephone was First among the twenty worlds of the Concordat, the very heart of human space. Janek must be a man of some consequence, but the captain's words and stance made clear that she regarded him as an intruder and did not trust him.

  She had referred to the Pegasus as an "Alliance" ship, and that alliance could only be the one between the Concordat and the distant star systems of the Nine Worlds.

  Trade between the regions known as the Nine Worlds and the Concordat had endured during the century of peace brokered by the original Kinsmen. The formal Alliance had been created six years before the Second Shaauri War, only to be disrupted by the blockade.

  Shaauri territory formed a vast, irregular bubble of colonies and uninhabited systems between the Concordat and the Nine Worlds. Shaauri wormholes provided the only means of crossing that territory, and any human ship that ventured to do so was captured or destroyed.

  The very presence of this ship in shaauri space was proof that the Alliance had found a means of circumventing the blockade.

  Who were these people, and what of all Paths was the Pegasus?

  Ronan felt Captain D'Accorso's gaze and put aside his speculation. She gestured to the man at her shoulder. "This is my second-in-command, Scholar-Commander Taye Adumbe of Nemesis." The dark-skinned man nodded, his eyes bright with curiosity. D'Accorso indicated her two guards. "Weapons specialist Kord d'Rhian O'Deira of Sirocco, and gunner Bendik Toussaint of Dharma."

  Healer Zheng stepped forward at the captain's nod. "You have already met our chief medic," D'Accorso said. "She'll be looking after you until she has completed a medical evaluation and releases you from the infirmary."

  Ronan suppressed a flinch. He would have to learn to bear this altered female's touch if he was to be accepted among humans, but his shaauri upbringing rebelled.

  You are not shaauri.

  "You will have the opportunity to meet the rest of our crew at the appropriate time," the captain said. "Until then you may request, within reason, anything you need. The Pegasus will accommodate any specific dietary requirements."

  Ronan's ears twitched. "I am human. I eat as you do."

  "Then I presume you're hungry. If you'll accompany the doctor, we can begin making you comfortable."

  "Am I to be a prisoner?"

  "Not unless you make it necessary." Though the captain's v
oice was light with human whimsy, her gaze had lost none of its sharpness. "Kord will accompany you and Dr. Zheng to the infirmary."

  He understood the warning. Captain D'Accorso would take no chances with him, in spite of her words to Janek and her easy manner. That was as it should be. She was a true First, committed to the safety of those under her command.

  And that made him OutLine until proven otherwise. If he resisted Zheng's examination, as all his instincts demanded, he would give the captain reason to heed the warnings of Kord and Janek.

  This was what he had wanted and never dared hope to achieve—escape and an escort to human space. Yet a deep unease pricked at his belly. He could not remember what he had intended once he evaded his pursuers. His mind was as empty of plans as a newborn ba'laik'in.

  Empty save for the Eightfold Way. Discipline, and discipline alone, would restore his purpose.

  He tilted his head in a gesture of profound respect and stepped between the two guards. "I will cooperate, Captain."

  'Then I will see you again when time permits." She extended her hand. Ronan was prepared; even Kinsmen used some variation of the gesture. But the prospect of touching Cynara D'Accorso was a much greater disturbance than he had reckoned on.

  Once he touched her, she would become something more than the first non-Kinsman female he had met in all the time he could remember. He would feel the warmth of her skin, her pulse, the vitality and strength so vivid to all his senses. Her seductive scent would enter his pores and flow in his blood. He would begin to admire in her the human qualities he had despised in himself.

  "It is common in many human societies to offer one's hand in greeting," she said. "I realize that among shaauri—"

  Ronan caught her hand as she began to withdraw it. The contact spiked through his body like the enervating bite of a venomous serpent, plunging into the center of his brain and driving his sexual awareness to an intolerable pitch.

  Cynara D'Accorso dropped his hand, and he crumpled to the deck.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  « ^ »

  The display on Cynara's wristcom glowed the steady amber of alert as she took her seat at the head of the briefing room's table. Her officers had already gathered, those whose skills were not immediately required at this time of crisis, and all of them looked to her with serious and troubled faces.

  They had reason to be concerned. Though the Pegasus had made it through the wormhole, Chief Antiniou had reported that the slingshot drive had faltered again. They were stalled out in an unpopulated region of human space far from any assistance, and the ship would remain dead in the water until Charis and her team could jury-rig temporary repairs.

  Cynara was confident that the shaauri striker hadn't taken a good scan of the Pegasus; the ship's shielding was built to resist even the most advanced scrutiny. Under normal circumstances the shaauri would remain on their side of the border… unless their prey was too valuable to let escape.

  And that brought her to the most troubling subject of all. Ronan VelKalevi, who had collapsed on the bridge at the precise moment her mind had touched his.

  Cynara's head still rang with that brief, blazing contact. She seldom found herself compelled to act as a telepath, and she certainly did not seek such experiences. On those rare occasions when she was forced to use Tyr's gift, she had done so only with extreme reluctance.

  She hadn't opened her mind to receive, and yet she had tasted Ronan's emotions as if he were capable of projecting them. He'd claimed that any telepathic ability he might have possessed had been stripped from him in childhood, and nothing she sensed in him contradicted his story. He'd been as shocked as she was—shocked all the way into unconsciousness.

  Ronan VelKalevi. Everything he did and said disturbed her, though certainly not in the way he ruffled Janek. Unless she had grossly misinterpreted Ronan's actions, he had confronted the Persephonean as if he defended her from an actual threat.

  Ronan did not know her, owed her no allegiance, and yet he had behaved exactly as Kord might, a warrior sworn to his Watergiver for life.

  And there was the way he'd moved… almost too fast for the eye to follow, swift and deadly, by every measure Kord's equal. She'd watched with a kind of bizarre fascination and far too much personal interest. That made no more sense than her peculiar willingness to accept him at face value.

  Was this her personal weakness? Would Tyr have acted so in her place?

  Something scraped the surface of the table, and she came back to the present and the urgent business at hand.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," she said, "I doubt there is any need for preliminaries. The Pegasus is temporarily disabled while Chief Antoniou effects repairs sufficient to take us to the next wormhole. We remain a little too close to shaauri space for comfort."

  There were several nods and a few uneasy glances. "No evidence of shaauri pursuit," Kord reported. "That doesn't mean they won't come through if they want their prey badly enough."

  The suspicion in his voice told Cynara all that he didn't say. She hadn't had the chance to ask his impression of Ronan since their brief confrontation; she suspected that he was revising his initial judgment. But his unspoken question was the same as that of every man and woman present: Was Ronan VelKalevi what he claimed to be?

  "I am well aware," she said, "of the implications of my decision to take VelKalevi aboard. Under no circumstances am I prepared to leave a fellow human to the mercies of shaauri warriors."

  No one offered disagreement. Janek scowled, doubtless convinced that he was hiding his true feelings. "The question," he said, "is whether or not we were intended to rescue him."

  Cynara smiled in a way she knew was sure to annoy him. "Of course. And we will expose any deception with all due efficiency—once we're safely home."

  "Will you confine him to the brig, Captain D'Accorso-fila?" Cargomaster Basterra asked.

  In spite of his apparent respect, Basterra always managed to remind her that she was still a Dharman woman, and unmarried at that. Cynara maintained her faint smile. "He is in the infirmary at the moment, Cargomaster, and will remain there until Doctor Zheng sees fit to release him." She turned to the woman seated on her left. "How is he, Bolts?"

  Miya Zheng glanced at her with a typically bland expression. "He's clean. He lost consciousness for a few minutes, but I have discovered no indication of serious illness or other pathology to account for the syncope." She made a notation on her diagnostic scanner and consulted its display. "It may simply be exhaustion, but I should know more in a few hours."

  "You said that you found it necessary to sedate him."

  "Even when he was half-conscious, he put up vigorous resistance to my examination. It seemed more instinctive than deliberate. My full report will be ready shortly, Captain."

  Cynara waved her hand. "I want your personal assessment, Zheng. You were the first to meet him."

  "And you were the first to make a deep impression on our errant Kinsman," Zheng said dryly, "if that is what he is. He claims otherwise, and his cerebral scans indicate normal non-telepathic patterns. There are slight anomalies, however."

  Anomalies, indeed. VelKalevi was an enigma—a human who claimed to have been raised among shaauri but was not Kinsman. Shaauri might resemble seven-foot-tall, bipedal, tailless cats, but there any similarity with human-world fauna ended.

  Once the human Kinsmen had been perfect go-betweens, negotiating treaties and trade agreements with the aliens, using their telepathic abilities to interpret the highly complex shaauri language. But the Second War had put an end to species loyalty; three-quarters of Kinsmen had chosen their adopted shaauri kin over humanity.

  Ronan had said he'd been among the shaauri since the age of six—almost certainly near the time the war began.

  "He claims he is not Kinsman," Janek said, "but not all Kinsmen are telepaths, or vice versa. You saw the way he behaved on the bridge. The very fact that he resisted Dr. Zheng's examination suggests that he has someth
ing to hide." He stared at Cynara. "You said you touched his mind, Captain. What did you observe?"

  Cynara considered her answer. She could have told Janek that her gifts were not so precise or easily controlled as he might believe, but she had no intention of revealing anything he might perceive as weakness. The Persephonean frequently made the mistake in thinking that because she ran the ship with an egalitarian philosophy, she was soft—not woman-soft, but lacking in the discipline and training necessary for the command of such a unique and priceless vessel.

  She'd become used to giving the impression that she took telepathy for granted, even if she seldom called upon it. The gift was common enough among the D'Accorsos. But few outsiders, even her fellow Dharman crew, realized how thoroughly a Dharman girl's abilities were suppressed by custom and training. Her own natural talents had never been great. Janek and the others couldn't know how much Tyr had contributed to any mental powers she now possessed.

  Or how very much she hated and feared using them.

  "I was able to learn very little," she said. "His brain shut down, which could be consistent with his claim that his mind was tampered with by shaauri-allied Kinsmen."

  "I would advise caution in attempting further mental probing," Zheng put in. Her gaze met Cynara's with a conspiratorial glimmer.

  "Certainly, Doctor. I will abide by your judgment." She glanced at Janek. "It is of far more importance to keep our guest in good health, both mental and physical, than to obtain by coercion whatever knowledge he possesses. As I'm sure you'd agree, Ser Janek."

  "I must reiterate that this man cannot be left in a position where he may gain access to ship's manuals and schematics. If you will not confine him to the brig—"

  "Our guest cabins are currently unoccupied," she said. "As they're located near my own quarters, I will take personal responsibility in seeing that Ser VelKalevi remains under control." Her gaze swept the table. "Every one of us has reason to be wary of any human associated with shaauri. I ask you to keep in mind that no Kinsman traitor has ever successfully eluded Concordat Intelligence. Those Kinsmen captured in human space have been conditioned to resist all questioning; if Ronan VelKalevi is one of them, his deception will be exposed.