A prisoner for three months, free for three months, and now, who knew? Was it better or worse that she’d walked into this captivity half willing?
They passed six thousand meters. She opened her eyes as Seaghdh’s copilot began a melodic, if disjointed, conversation with the Stalker Class cruiser in orbit.
Seaghdh glanced over his shoulder at Ari. Whatever he saw in her face made him frown. He turned back when the copilot spoke to him.
Funny. She’d have thought she’d catch his name when the copilot addressed him. But then, maybe she’d simply said “Captain.” The reference to his boss, the Queen’s Blade, that Ari caught. How bad a sign was it that the Auhrnok Riorchjan was aboard the Stalker? She’d heard plenty regarding his interrogation techniques. She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t get a firsthand demonstration.
Nodding at the information the copilot relayed, Seaghdh changed course. The Stalker looked knife-edge sharp hanging in space, sleek and deadly. They came in under the cover of her forward guns. Ari felt the shuttle hesitate as it passed through the outer shield layer. She sat up straighter and scanned the darkness visible through the viewports.
Nothing.
Yet the Claugh obviously expected something. From whom? Armada? They were inside the TFC border. They had to know the border sensors had alerted Command the moment they’d crossed out of the Buffer Zone. Or did they suspect Chekydran? This close to the Buffer Zone, they were a possibility.
A shimmy ran through the plating beneath her feet. Seaghdh and his copilot took their hands from the controls. Guidance beam. Interesting. Ship’s weapons and shields hot, but taking the time for shuttle guidance. Ari was sure it meant something, she just couldn’t work out what it might be. She supposed it meant that stealing a shuttle and making a break for it would be much harder with the little boats locked by guidance.
They set down in a shuttle bay, white and gray deck plates scorched by engine discharge. It looked like every other shuttle bay she’d ever seen. Just bigger. She waited until Seaghdh unhooked his harness and rose. Turrel and V’kyrri stood. All three men looked different, somehow. Worn, apprehensive. Like the worst was yet to come. They studiously avoided looking at her.
Seaghdh offered her a hand. She rose without it. The concern in his face deepened as he dropped his hand back to his side. Despite her challenging stare, he didn’t say anything, didn’t give any hint about what to expect.
He keyed open the hatch. Turrel and V’kyrri took position behind her. Showtime. Spine straight, chin high, she marched down the ramp before Seaghdh could order her escorted off the shuttle.
A woman in a stiff, khaki uniform, two conspicuously armed guards at either shoulder, stood at the bay door. Dark brown, curly hair, secured at her nape, gleamed like a criot pelt. She strode, fluid grace in every move, across the floor, smiled, and extended a hand. Ari could see the faint tracing of veins through her fair, freckled skin.
“Captain Idylle,” she said. Her accent turned Ari’s language into poetry. “I am so pleased you agreed to assist us. This cannot have been easy for you.”
Ari took the elegant woman’s hand and noted the grime embedded in her own skin. Her filthy, rumpled uniform reeked of death and fear. She’d killed one of her own crew today. Easy? Yeah. Thrice-damned hell of a day.
“I am Eilod Saoyrse.”
Ari’s breath stopped in her chest. The queen of the Claugh nib Dovvyth. By all that was holy, she was screwed.
“Captain Alexandria Idylle, madam,” she forced herself to reply. TFC didn’t have royalty, didn’t confer titles. She had no idea how to address the head of an enemy state. She’d never been trained as a politician. “I don’t know how I can help. You are already in possession of my debriefing files. I doubt I can add to them.”
“Someone believes you can, Captain,” the queen replied, releasing her. “If you didn’t represent a danger to someone important, you wouldn’t have been attacked.” Her gaze touched Turrel and V’kyrri, then moved farther left. Her smile deepened.
Ari felt Seaghdh beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him salute. He began speaking in his language, his words hurried and his tone urgent.
“Auhrnok Riorchjan,” the queen interrupted.
Ari froze. She knew that title. Auhrnok was obscure, a title of nobility, akin to lord. She couldn’t remember how she’d come to know its meaning. But every officer and grunt in the Armada knew Riorchjan, even if no one knew precisely what it meant. It belonged to Her Majesty’s spymaster. The Queen’s Blade. Judge, jury, executioner. The queen herself had just attached it to Cullin Seaghdh.
The blood drained from Ari’s head. Feeling sputtered and died in her heart.
“You have a great deal of explaining to do, Auhrnok,” Her Majesty snapped at Seaghdh. “You will not alienate our guest by speaking a language she does not understand.”
As the woman berated him, the devil-may-care man Ari had known seemed to dissolve. Someone honed and dangerous stood in his place. She’d caught glimpses of this over the past few days, noted the dichotomy and dismissed it. How could she have so ignored the cues?
She could neither cry nor laugh at her stupidity. At least it cleared up one question. He was undoubtedly real. Not even Chekydran mind-control drugs could concoct so far-fetched a scenario as the damaged Armada captain falling for the infamously manipulative Queen’s Blade.
Her heart clenched. Cravuul dung. Had she really?
Rage scorched the cobwebs from her brain. No. It had barely been three days during which she’d trusted Cullin Seaghdh because she’d had no choice. He’d done his job, using whatever means she’d offered him to pry her away from her family. He’d exploited her need for approval, her desire to be a part of something, her attraction to him. She gritted her teeth. It was all a lie, and she’d played right into his hands.
Fine. He’d played her. Just like she’d played him on the energy blade floor. Or had she? She cast a sidelong glance at that long, lean fencer’s body and shivered. Had she ever dueled the top-ranked blade master? He’d asked her that. She’d said no, not realizing she just had. Evidence suggested, by virtue of the fact that she was a prisoner again and her captor had gotten her to walk into his trap willingly, that she’d been played from the moment Cullin Seaghdh had taken her father’s ship.
Straightening, Ari focused on the woman watching her so keenly.
“Congratulations, Auhrnok Riorchjan,” Ari said. The placid, even tone of her voice pleased her. “Match to you.”
“Ari,” he grated, warning in his tone.
“No, no,” she said, glancing at him. She strangled the chagrin trying to rise within her at the pain in his face and turned her eyes front. “Masterfully won. I now understand the distinction between first and second rank. I concede. Your skill far outstrips mine.”
He growled.
Her Majesty glanced between them, trouble flickering across her features for a moment. “Captain Idylle, quarters have been prepared—”
“You wanted my help,” Ari interrupted. “A shower and a change of clothes are all I need.” She would not ask what they intended to do with her. “We don’t have time for anything else. Armada beacons registered your presence in TFC space two hours ago. If my commanders aren’t lighting up your com panels, it’s because my ship, with my former first officer commanding, is en route to begin knocking impolitely at your front door.”
Eilod Saoyrse opened her mouth, then closed it, staring.
Ari reached for her handheld.
The guards twitched.
Glaring at them, Ari unclipped the device in slow motion. When she offered it to the queen, Seaghdh took it. Ari refused to look at him.
“You’ll find a com badge code,” she said. “Bring it aboard. It may require some overrides on your teleporters. ’Port directly to containment.”
The woman blinked, looking momentarily flustered. Drawing herself up, she smiled again. “Thank you, Captain. What are we teleporting?”
“The
corpse of Lt. Tommy Heisen.”
“A compatriot?”
“Six months ago, yes. After time spent with the Chekydran, no. He was one of their soldiers.”
Eilod sucked in a sharp breath and her green eyes lit. “One hour!” she commanded, pointing at Seaghdh. “Clean up. Report to medical. Captain Idylle, I insist that you submit to a full medical scan. This is for your protection as well as ours. When it is complete, I expect you both in Conference One.”
“I recommend completing teleport before the Balykkal arrives.”
“It’s not that simple,” Seaghdh rumbled. It sounded like he had his teeth clenched.
Ari looked at him. Muscles bunched up in his jaw, anger in the set of his lips. Good. Why, then, did her gut twist and demand she smooth away the lines in his forehead? Manipulative bastard. Focus, Ari. He’d said they couldn’t teleport Tommy. She frowned.
“This is a Stalker Class cruiser,” she said.
“Yes.”
“With a sizeable science team.”
“Yes.”
Ari lifted her hands from her sides and dropped them again. “They’ll understand containment.”
Seaghdh scowled. “They should, yes . . .”
“Containment isn’t independent of ship’s systems?” she surmised, resisting the urge to smack her palm to her forehead. She should have known. TFC hadn’t begun designing containment independent of ship’s grid until after the Occaltus disaster. The Claugh hadn’t yet been forced to learn from bad luck. “Fine. Call in the Sen Ekir.”
“Not possible.”
“We both know that between Dad, Pietre, and Sindrivik, the IntCom files have been disabled,” she countered. “They have control of the ship.”
Seaghdh glanced at the queen, then back at Ari. He cleared his throat. “That isn’t the issue, Captain.”
“They have the containment system you need, Seaghdh,” she prodded, “and an exemplary team. Explain to my father. He won’t believe you until he cuts into Tommy and finds all that Chekydran tech adapted to Armada specifications. When he does, he’ll understand. He’s worked privileged information before.” Ari hesitated, examining him to see if she couldn’t discern some hint of intent in his face.
“Unless those of us involved are slated to simply disappear,” she said. “Then I do prefer you leave Dad out of it. You might even be able to trade me back to the Chekydran and let them finish the job they started if you don’t wish to be personally guilty of my murder.”
Eilod Saoyrse chuckled. The real amusement in the sound baffled Ari. “I’ll thank the two of you to leave your personal baggage at the air lock door. We have a Chekydran-backed problem that seems to be growing in threat and complication by the moment. Captain Idylle, can you work with Captain Seaghdh?”
Could she? How about would she? Swallowing ire, she nodded. “If I can be forgiven the occasional cheap shot? Yes, ma’am. I’ll work with whoever it takes to stop the Chekydran and their allies.”
“Excellent.” The queen turned on her heel and quit the bay.
“Ari,” Seaghdh essayed, reaching for her. “Let me explain.”
Without thinking, she sidestepped his grasp and pinned him with a hard glare. “No need. It’s all perfectly clear.”
Something chirped. He activated a com badge she’d missed seeing. She didn’t catch a word of the conversation.
He closed his eyes and rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Damn it, Ari.” He sighed, wiped the pain from his face, and straightened. “Turrel. Escort Captain Idylle to medical. I will relieve you.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“V’kyrri, with me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Seaghdh thrust the handheld back into her grasp and stalked out of the bay, anger in every line of his body. V’kyrri followed, but not before he tossed a disquieted glance at her and looked like he wanted to say something. He pressed his lips tight, nodded, and jogged after Seaghdh.
“Baxt’k.”
“Yeah,” Turrel rumbled. “Politics. What a group baxt’k.”
She eyed the big man standing next to her with his arms crossed and the hint of a smirk on his face. “Rank?”
“Colonel.”
“Ground forces,” Ari said.
“Different military entirely. At least, I was.”
Until someone in her government had ordered the slaughter of his people. Ari sighed. Staying pissed off at Seaghdh would have been a lot easier if he’d lied about everything.
CHAPTER 14
THE queen’s bodyguards flanked the door emblazoned with the emerald, silver, and black standard of the royal house. Both men saluted as Seaghdh approached.
“Her Majesty awaits, Auhrnok Riorchjan,” one man said as his companion opened and held the door.
Eilod Saoyrse turned from staring out the viewport, her green eyes flashing. “Auhrnok? What the hell happened out there?”
Seaghdh crossed the gold carpet and tried not to grin. Clever. She gave the court gossip mill grist by taking him to task in front of her bodyguard. He folded Her Majesty’s right hand in both of his, knelt, and touched his forehead to their clasped hands.
“Gentlemen,” Eilod said. “Secure these chambers.”
“By your will, Your Majesty,” the men replied in unison.
Seaghdh heard them leave the room, close the door, and lock it behind them. A few moments later, the subtle, low-level hum of a sonic shield rose.
“You can get up. They’re gone,” his cousin said, curling her fingers around his and lifting.
Suddenly aching and weary, Seaghdh accepted the assistance.
“Are you all right? Cullin, you look awful.”
He rubbed a grimy hand over scratchy eyes and relaxed completely for the first time since accepting his mission to find one Captain Alexandria Rose Idylle. “I’ll be fine, but I think the sonic shield blew the regen unit.”
“Regen?” Eilod frowned, taking a seat at her desk. “You’re injured? You should have gone to medical.”
“I will,” he promised. “This is important.”
“What happened, Cullin, that eight of our best are dead and you come to me when you should be in treatment?”
“We hit a nerve.” Seaghdh sighed and dropped into an armchair, resting his head against the padding. Leather creaked. He rolled his head to one side to look at Eilod, her hands folded, her face lined with concern.
“Go on,” she said.
“The Chekydran were waiting for us. Great, big battleship. No hail. No warn off. They opened fire, punched a hole in our shields with three shots and finished us in six.”
“Do we have a leak?”
“Not necessarily,” Seaghdh said. “Ar—Captain Idylle’s whereabouts weren’t classified. We went in knowing we weren’t the only ones looking for her. There’s no reason to believe the Chekydran weren’t expecting us.”
“Or were they counting on us?” Eilod mused. She shook her head. “Enough. I’ll review your report and we’ll address it in debriefing. Tell me about Captain Idylle.”
“She’s IntCom.”
“What?” Eilod sat bolt upright.
Seaghdh straightened, nodding. “She is either the best spy TFC has ever trained or the luckiest spacer since Ormynd Mbumbakii stumbled on supralight.”
“She was captured and held by the Chekydran.”
“I know. Not my definition of lucky, either.” Seaghdh sighed. “On the other hand, I sense no duplicity in her. I’m beginning to believe it’s because she doesn’t say anything.”
Eilod grinned, abruptly looking much younger. “On the contrary, my dear, I gather you and she have traded more than a few words.”
Seaghdh drew breath to protest, then deflated. He should have known his sharp-eyed cousin would catch a hint of what he’d hoped burned between Ari and himself. “You know what I mean,” he grumbled. “She does not trust. Not me. Not herself. Not anyone.”
“So I gathered,” she replied. “I’m sorry. We’ve done the
bad Claugh/good Claugh so often, it never occurred to me that you had made yourself into the good one.”
“I didn’t. She saw through it.”
“Did we recruit a mole, Cullin?”
“No.”
She looked at him for a moment, then sat back in her chair. “The evidence that makes you so certain?”
“Gut,” he admitted.
“Gut? Or something significantly lower? Auhrnok Captain Cullin Seaghdh nib Riorchjan,” the queen said, her voice ringing. “You have ten seconds to explain before I have that woman confined to one cell and you to another.”
“Her involvement with TFC Intelligence Command is off record.”
Eilod frowned and relaxed. “Off record? Tagreth Federated doesn’t do anything unless it’s in triplicate. That is, in part, why you are valuable to me. You have an uncanny knack for wading through their landslide of data. Are you certain she’s IntCom? Could it have been bravado? Meant to impress an attractive captor?”
Seaghdh laughed. “No. Bravado she has, I admit. But no. She’d kept her status secret her entire career, even from her family. She would have kept it to her grave, I think, had we not run into our soldier friends on Kebgra. In fact, Lieutenant Sindrivik is still aboard the Sen Ekir, trapped by IntCom’s systems’ lockdown.”
Awareness dawned in Eilod’s face. She chuckled. “She initiated a lockout of her father’s ship? Perhaps I’ll offer Captain Idylle asylum in exchange for her cooperation.”
“She’ll cooperate, regardless,” Seaghdh said. “It’s personal.”
“Her crewman. Yes.” Eilod sighed, drummed her fingers on the tabletop for a moment, then said, “Speak plainly to me, kinsman. What did I bring aboard this ship?”
Seaghdh should have known Eilod would invoke bloodbond. She didn’t often remind him that he was as bound to the throne and its duties as she. Doubtless, she envied him the luxury of being able to forget that particular burden. Eilod Saoyrse never disregarded the yoke of her station.
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