The Iron Altar Series Box Set One: Books 1 to 3

by Casey Lea

  Darsey watched the strange parade past Santa closely and it was bizarre enough to help her forget what lay at her feet. Each crew member stopped by their new leader and projected images from their coms. Darsey saw jewellery, faceted bottles, strange food and even a sculpture of two wrestling mutt. It seemed the supplicants were the ones who came bearing gifts.

  Jileea lounged in place, occasionally raising a finger in acceptance. When this happened the pirate in front of her would bow low, before turning to claim a console. Most of the officers turned away disconsolate to drift slowly back down the link.

  The queue shortened to one and then it was gone. Jileea’s gaze finally returned to Darsey’s cell and her lips creased at whatever she saw in Greon’s dead eyes. Darsey leaned forward, stretching over the bowling ball at her feet toward the protective field. Her hand reached that barrier and kept going. It slid straight through a supposedly impenetrable wall of energy.

  Jileea blinked and the renewed rhythm of nest activity faltered. Covert glances flicked between the crew, but their attention was clearly on their untried leader. Darsey rearranged her face into what she hoped was a mocking and confident grin, which seemed to work since Jileea rose from her throne. At least she had her attention.

  Just to be sure, Darsey waggled her fingers in the free air of the nest and then drew her arm back through the field. Jileea’s jaw clenched, but she managed a grimacing smile in response.

  The Leader wafted serenely above the active crew consoles, moving forward slowly and staring down every officer she passed. They quickly returned to their work, each one apparently engrossed, and she switched her attention to the approaching wall of cells.

  Jileea’s com halted her progress and she stopped in front of Darsey’s brightly lit prison. She waved her hand and the field guarding it disappeared. “Seems redundant,” she pointed out coolly.

  Darsey regarded the mermaridian thoughtfully as she continued to float outside the cell.

  “May I enter?” Jileea requested with unexpected courtesy.

  “Sure,” Darsey replied, nodding toward Greon’s head. “Watch the step.”

  “Indeed.” Jileea slid to one side before striding across the cell ledge.

  Darsey managed to wait until gravity had gripped her guest, but then she was talking. “I’m a problem,” she stated with urgent conviction. “I’m a problem already and I guarantee I’ll get worse. I know how to pass through barriers, so you can’t hold me. On top of that, your crew thinks I’m lucky, which limits your options. I know you don’t want trouble with any superstitions. If you execute me the chances are you wouldn’t survive, at least not as leader. But if you drop me at the next port, we both get our lives back. Deal?”

  Darsey’s proposal came to a halt and silver-gray eyes regarded her impassively. Had she spoken too fast? She steadied herself to stare back with the same lack of emotion and there was a moment of silence while they stood with gazes locked. “This could go on for some time,” Darsey said with all the sanity she could muster, and Jileea blinked.

  “It could pass a while,” she agreed, ‘and I do have other things to do. One such relates to you. Nightwing claimed there’d be an increased bonus to deliver you. It’s up to sixteen thousand credits.”

  “He lied,” Darsey stated flatly and, to her surprise, Jileea smiled.

  “Of course he did. I was in-link and saw most-all that passed. He had no chance to clear contacts from some mystery kres. No, Nightwing wants me elsewhere. He has some profit to be made on the Rim. He must do. Why else barter control of the Bandit for a single lift Rimwards? If he knows of more wealth, I’d like a chance to share it. I’ve set us to follow the kres ship, with much care, of course.”

  “That’s nice,” Darsey answered bluntly, “but what about me?”

  “I could sell you again,” Jileea mused, but was stopped by a low growl.

  “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “Actually, I agree with you, human.”

  Darsey sighed and her hands relaxed from being fists. “So, what will you do with me?”

  Jileea offered a conspiratorial grin. “Whatever you choose.”

  Darsey tried to hold her face still and neutral, but her tone carried all of her suspicion. “Really?”

  “Truly. This offer is your-choice, but I do have a suggestion. Ask to be set free on Gratuity, with credit and a com.”

  “What?” Darsey’s throat constricted to choke further words. Hope left her momentarily faint, but then suspicion rose to revive her. This deal was way too good to be genuine and her mind raced, trying to understand how Jileea might benefit from it. She came up blank. “What do you get in return?”

  Jileea seemed unperturbed by the question. “In give-back I want an open, unspecified future deal. You’re in-luck at this time, girl, and I want some. Owe me a future deal and you’re free, with com.”

  “No,” Darsey protested instantly. “A future deal? You’ll turn up some day and tell me I have to pay with my firstborn child or something.”

  Jileea’s mouth puckered into a vertical line of astonishment. “Weird.” She shook herself, but her lips straightened. “Weird species. I won’t demand any such. I won’t demand at all. A future deal is made by you. When you realize you can do me a favor, at any time in your life, you’re luck-bound to do it.” She sniffed and her lips tightened in a sly grin. “My instincts say your future will pay better than an unknown kres slaver who might show, but might turn chick instead. Deal?”

  Darsey frowned and mentally reviewed Jileea’s description of a future deal. There were no obvious snags and freedom suddenly felt excruciatingly close. “What’s life without a little risk? Sure, you have a deal.”

  Jileea looked pleased, without being delighted. “I’ll download a com for you and we’ll seal. You can use Nightwing’s old quarters until we dock.”

  She turned toward the nest and gestured at a compression strip. A silver com appeared in front of it and a flick of Jileea’s finger summoned the gleaming circle. Darsey watched it grow with hungry intensity.

  Jileea moved to stand so near their shoulders touched, but her tone remained casual. “Will you take some advice?”

  Darsey offered her a brief, startled glance before turning back to catch the approaching com. “Probably not.”

  “Don’t hang your heart on a kres. Their royals are most weird.”

  There was no immediate response from Darsey, who was examining the com as it settled round her wrist. When it was safety in place she answered with quiet intensity. “I’ve no intention of hanging my heart, or any other part of my anatomy, anywhere near Nightwing.”

  “Good,” Jileea agreed brightly. “Truly good. He'll dock ahead of us at Gratuity and your new life has no need of such complication.”

  “There’s no complication,” Darsey insisted, and Jileea looked relieved.

  “Excellent. At least you’ve no such interest and you can certain-sure discourage his. He already has some strange beliefs about you. He claims to know how you pass through energy fields. He said it could hurt you, even be lethal. I’d tell you more if I knew, but Nightwing was the only genius in this crew. Still, don't be tempted to seek for him. There’s no evidence that his theories are truth and I’d not like your fresh-given freedom to be wasted.”

  “Ah,” Darsey breathed softly with sudden comprehension. She knew what Jileea wanted from her now, but stared down at her new com to hide that understanding. She stroked the silver band and then covered it protectively with her free hand. “You’ll let me go and let me stay gone?”

  “Ye, I swear it. On my Luck.”

  Darsey looked up again, gauging that promise before nodding in agreement. “Good enough. Let’s seal the deal.” She stretched out her wrist, sending careful mental commands to her com, and it linked briefly with Jileea’s.

  “Good,” the pirate leader approved, and swung toward the nest with a sweeping gesture for Darsey to precede her. “Welcome back to the universe.”

 
; Darsey started to step past, but was abruptly gripped hard by the upper arm. She glared at Jileea, who frowned back. “Don't ignore my advice, human. Curiosity, even about a life threat, is not worth reunion with that kres.” Jileea shook Darsey’s arm once, in emphasis, then propelled her forward and into freedom.

  33

  Reunion

  Nightwing paced across the viscous floor of a simple escape bubble, treading a rainbow circle in its flat base. He trusted Free more than anyone he knew, but returning to kres territory was still a huge risk. He faced arrest or worse. If the Arck had an agent on board Wing would have to fight for his life. He frowned blindly down at the floor puddling beneath his feet, oblivious to the ripples of color surrounding each step.

  He remained lost to his surroundings, until his wrist tingled with the arrival of co-ordinates at his com. He focused on the unexpected directions in surprise. He’d never needed electronic navigation to find an open docking bay before. He looked up at the approaching ship for the first time since leaving the Bandit.

  A giant vessel blocked the stars ahead and Wing’s lips pursed in a low whistle. Its purple bulk curved above his bubble, which rocketed beneath its hull and past letters twice as tall as he was. Grace he read as he sped under the belly of the beast and the name unsettled him further.

  The Freefall who had been his best friend would never have named his ship after that caustic and bossy old lady. Did he even know his cousin anymore? Perhaps after so many years apart they would simply stare at each other like strangers.

  However, Wing had no more time to worry about their reunion. His com thrummed, directing the bubble to slow sharply until it could drift through an open hatch. It wafted the length of an entry bay, to settle gently against the energy field at its far end. The small vessel’s curved skin flattened against that shield, before fusing with it so that the single surface could part to let Wing enter his cousin’s ship.

  The kres pirate hesitated at the sight of guards in the chamber beyond, but the ten armoured figures snapped to attention, five on either side of the door in honor guard formation. Wing took a deep breath before strolling through the hatch with a casual whistle. That childhood signal went unanswered and there was no other sign of Free. Instead a strange officer stepped forward and bowed.

  “Ship Senior Gull Snowbeak welcoming you on, my lord. Please enter.”

  Wing nodded gravely, but when he advanced further into the ship Gull’s smile disappeared.

  “Take him.”

  Wing’s honor guard changed to captors in an instant. They circled him with raised wrists, but he was just as fast. His compressed sword dropped from his com to his hand, where he spun it in a series of arcs before gripping it firmly, in the pattern demanding trial by combat.

  However Gull simply sneered at the ancient ritual. “You’re no longer one of us and none will cross blades with you. Your challenge is rejected. Drop the weapon.”

  Instead Wing raised his sword to the ready position. “Are you all too Honorless to duel?”

  The guards stirred uneasily and one of them cleared her throat, but before she could speak they were distracted by the distant shriek of someone's rapid passage along the link. The noise grew louder and a rising wind travelled with it. A final rush of air blasted from the tunnel to tumble Gull into the guard in front of Wing. They both stumbled aside when Free appeared in the doorway.

  The kres Leader was still moving too fast to stop, so instead ran up the alcove wall. He slid down that curved surface when gravity finally caught him and skidded to a halt in front of Nightwing. The two cousins studied each other impassively.

  “Wing.”

  “Free.”

  “Nice sword.”

  “Nice ship.”

  Nightwing calmly sheathed his blade at his wrist and tried to stay cool, but it was impossible. Free grinned and he felt his own beaming smile, huge and irrepressible, in response. He launched himself into a bear hug and they held each other hard, until Wing plucked Free from his feet in delight. He dropped his reclaimed cousin and they separated just far enough to clasp forearms instead.

  “Wing.”

  “Free.”

  I’ve missed you, their fronds sent at the same moment and Free gripped Wing’s shoulder to study him intently.

  “Are you well? You look good.”

  “I believe I look under arrest,” Wing corrected, glancing past his cousin to raise an eyebrow at Gull.

  “Certain-sure,” the Ship Senior confirmed, straightening his tunic before moving to stand behind his leader. “We’ve orders to hold you as a traitor.”

  “Gull,” Free said softly, but with a mental snap that made all of his crew flinch, “I’ve told you that my cousin is no traitor and on my ship you’d best remember such.”

  He released Wing and turned to lock stares with his senior officer. Gull quickly dropped his gaze, but his voice was determined. “This is a prime order from the Arck. Please, sah, let me do my duty and arrest him.”

  “Never.”

  “It’s my duty.”

  “I’m sorry you see it so, with no loyalty owed to me. I doubt your crewmates will agree. They know how to obey the highest officer present. If you persist in this mutiny you’ll never give another order on this ship. Nor will you ever leave it.”

  Wing jerked with shock and almost recoiled. His cousin had changed more than he’d feared. His old friend could never have threatened anyone in such a way, much less one of his crew, but Free’s mind was steady and resolved. A single frond twitch was enough to convince Gull.

  “Who should my strike team arrest? You, or no-one?” Free demanded and his Senior bowed low.

  “I apologise Sector Leader. Your direct order is paramount and your understanding of these matters far beyond mine. Do you wish these guards dismissed?”

  “Indeed.”

  Gull saluted crisply then gestured for the strike team to leave. “Back to barracks. Quick time.”

  They turned as one and trotted into the link, where they quickly disappeared with their Senior close behind. Free stared grimly after them, until Wing draped an arm across his shoulders.

  “Command's a ditch,” the ex-pirate observed philosophically. “Would you really have killed him?”

  Free snorted. “Don't over value yourself. I'd never hurt Gull, but a time in his quarters with no out-talk might have been needed.”

  “Thanks. You okay?”

  “Oh-what?”

  Wing pulled back in surprise before shrugging a hand. “It's just a word a friend of mine likes to use. I meant are you well?”

  Free smiled more easily in response. “I'm the best I've been for years. Come, let's have a drink and you can bore me with your exploits.”

  “Just like times past.”

  They entered the link together and Free directed them across it to an empty greeting room. They wafted into a circular chamber showing visuals of a sandy island set in a teal sea that seemed to stretch away on all sides.

  “This ship's as pretty as its leader,” Wing observed gleefully.

  “At least I have a ship,” Free retorted just as happily. “Grab a seat.”

  Wing crunched across impressively authentic sand to settle on a feather fringed settee.

  “Do you still drink grathol on ice with a fizz mixer?” Free asked after catching glasses released by the wall.

  “No mixer. I'm all grown up now and hard as any glacier.”

  “Save your sex stories for later.”

  Wing chuckled contentedly. “How I've missed your refined wit.”

  “I'm sure there's nothing like it on the Rim.” Free turned with the drinks and walked across to pass one down to Wing.

  He accepted his glass with a nod at his cousin's torso. “Who did you shoot to get the sector leader’s tunic?”

  “Like it?” Free spun slowly with arms spread wide, to show off his uniform.

  “It suits you well, but I'm not so sure of the ship’s name. You didn’t choose it, did you?
”

  “I did and it’s most deserved. Lady Grace made this hulk fully fit for space. She carried all the cost of refurbishing.”

  “You owe her then?”

  “I fear so.”

  Wing lifted his glass and threw back half of its contents. “Grace is too strange for me to fathom. She’s ever been caustic and critical, yet she aids us both as if we were her young. It makes no sense. She’s an enigma.”

  “She’s also on board.”

  “She’s here? Guano. There’s extra incentive for me to leave the ship and finish my mission.”

  “Mission?”

  “For true.”

  “Wait.” Freefall chose a tartan patterned lounger and collapsed onto it. He stretched out to gaze at the apparent sky above and took a long sip of his drink. “I'm ready. Tell all.”

  “We needs must go back then. You remember when I ran from Court?”

  “The scandal of the century that cut out my heart and my cheeks? I recall.”

  Wing stirred uncomfortably and paused for another gulp of grathol, letting it drag fire from his throat to his gut while he gathered his thoughts. “Some parts you may have missed. Once you realized that Goldown had turned me addict by feeding me hook without my knowing, well... you saved my life. You helped me fight free of that guano...”

  “You've told me thanks before,” Free said softly in the silence that fell. “And that is all long past.”

  “True, but you don't know what happened when I broke with Goldown. She placed a contract for your death and said she'd make it active unless I stayed.” Wing jerked forward to perch on the edge of his seat and gulped at his drink again. “I didn't stay.” Silence grew once more. “Did you hear, Free? I told her no and I left.”

  Wing edged further forward, but his cousin refused to make eye contact. Instead Free stopped staring at a roof now streaked with sunset and closed his eyes. “A-huh,” he managed, but that was all. So you ran and that's how I got shot, his mind filled in and Wing leapt to his feet.