Relic of Sorrows

by Lindsay Buroker

  “I thought you wanted to be replaced. That’s usually what happens when you accept a position elsewhere.”

  Something whirred near the comm, and Mica laughed again, then closed the channel.

  “Hm, maybe all I have to do is get her a pile of tools and parts to entice her to stay on the Nomad,” Alisa said.

  “Do we have a plan to recover the orb and investigate the station?” Alejandro asked, his gaze riveted to the view screen.

  “No. We have a plan to sit here and help Mica repair the ship while the properly equipped Alliance team investigates the station.”

  “That’s not acceptable.” Alejandro raised his eyebrows in Leonidas’s direction and tilted his head toward Alisa.

  What was that supposed to mean? That Leonidas should force her to do something? Hadn’t she already done enough? She was more than ready to abandon this quest and go find Jelena. Better for the Alliance to have the staff than the empire.

  Leonidas gave her a sad look, and she almost wondered if he had developed mind-reading skills. No, he was probably lamenting that his loyalties were divided, that she had come to be a friend and muddled things between him and his empire.

  “The next twenty-four hours should be enough,” Abelardus said, “to see whether the Alliance succeeds or if they need our help.”

  “Why would they need our help?” Alejandro frowned at him. “They have the key.”

  Abelardus smiled cryptically.

  Chapter 15

  Alisa slept a few hours, woke in the middle of the night, and lay there, unable to fall back to sleep. She got dressed and headed to NavCom, curious about the station, curious about what the Alliance ships were doing, and even more curious as to whether she would escape this place without getting involved again.

  More than once, she had considered piloting the Nomad away from the station—there was no reason that Mica could not do her repairs elsewhere—but the men might lynch her if she tried. This might not be her mission, but she did not seem able to escape it.

  Unfortunately, even if she somehow separated herself from the men and headed to Cleon Moon, she would not have much of a lead. She had checked Abelardus’s messages during a quiet moment before bed and had been disappointed to see that Durant hadn’t yet returned any of them. What if something had happened and Durant was dead? What if Jelena was alone out there somewhere? Hurt or injured, with no way to find her way home, with no one to help her, care for her? She could be anywhere in the system, hungry, cold, and lost. Scared. And Alisa wasn’t there to put her arms around her, to tell her it would be all right, the way she had done when Jelena had been four and scared of thunderstorms.

  Would it be all right? She knew nothing about Durant. What if he was cruel? Or a pervert? Or some zealot so caught up in his own world that he would neglect to care for Jelena? Alisa couldn’t imagine him being a decent human being, not when he had thought kidnapping a child was a good idea.

  With these thoughts plaguing her, she had a lump in her throat by the time she headed into the short corridor leading to NavCom. She almost turned right back around again when she saw the back of Abelardus’s head in the co-pilot’s seat, his braids dangling about his shoulders. He gazed at the station on the view screen, the zoom pushed to maximum. He looked back before she could retreat. She thought about leaving, regardless, since she did not want to spend time alone with him, but he waved for her to come in.

  “I’m watching the soldiers in spacesuits crawling around on the station,” he said.

  Alisa hesitated, but finally decided to have a look. If there were soldiers out there, that was a new development.

  “They’ve been back and forth in shuttles, and they’re attempting to force their way in,” he said. “They’ve tried using the orb. There’s a slot for each of the four individual pieces, and they’ve inserted them, but the big double doors won’t open for the soldiers.” He smiled smugly.

  “You think a Starseer needs to operate the key?” Alisa asked.

  “That’s my belief, yes.”

  “How long until the station disappears?” Alisa looked toward the digital clock in the console, thinking of the seven hours and however many minutes Abelardus had plucked from Tomich’s thoughts.

  “Less than an hour.”

  She looked closer at the view screen. “They truly are out there in spacesuits and with blow torches, aren’t they?” Even with the zoom, the soldiers looked like ants crawling around on the surface of the station. “Do those look like special suits to you? Something to deal with the radiation?”

  “Likely so.”

  Since Abelardus appeared to be more interested in talking about business than personal matters, Alisa let herself be drawn inside to continue the conversation. She stood behind her seat instead of sitting in it, resting her hands on the backrest.

  “It’s a shame the Nomad’s sensors aren’t better,” she said.

  “Yes. My sensors—” he smirked and tapped his temple, “—are fairly useless at such long range too.”

  “Unfortunate.”

  “I’d like to go over there. I never had any great interest in the legend of Alcyone or in hunting for her staff, but now that we’re here and might be so close… I thought about calling up your Alliance buddies and asking to join their team. I figure if I helped them find something, I could find a way to reacquire it later.” He looked over at her. “Would you mind?”

  “Mind what?”

  “I know you don’t want the empire to have it. I don’t either. Would you object if I had it?”

  “You?” Alisa did not want to see a super weapon in Abelardus’s hands any more than she wanted to see it in the hands of some spoiled ten-year-old prince. Hells, she didn’t want to see it in anyone’s hands. Maybe it should remain buried in that station and in another dimension. Or maybe it should simply disappear forever. She wondered if there was any way she could convince Tomich to take his warship in and blow up the station.

  Abelardus laughed. “I see you do object.”

  “I thought we had a deal about you staying out of my mind.”

  “Sometimes your thoughts are so visible on your face that I don’t have to delve into your depths.” He smirked again.

  Alisa wondered if that had been an innuendo and decided she did not want to comment on it even if it had been. That would only encourage him.

  “If the staff is as powerful as you all seem to believe, nobody should have it,” she said. “Look what happened the last time it was floating about in the system. Someone used it to destroy your home world.”

  “Yes.” Abelardus gazed toward the view screen again. “It would be unfortunate if history repeated itself. But there used to be twelve of those staffs on our planet. Our people managed to keep from blowing up worlds for centuries before a traitor turned against us.”

  “Funny how one person’s traitor is another person’s hero, isn’t it?”

  “Funny, yes.” Abelardus pushed himself to his feet.

  Alisa watched him, hoping he simply meant to head to bed. She never felt comfortable around him, not with those smirks and the way he looked at her.

  “Yes, and that’s unfortunate,” he murmured, leaning his hip against the back of his seat, facing her.

  “What is?” she asked, though she suspected he was reading her thoughts again.

  “That you’re not comfortable around me. If I were you, I’d be a lot more worried about being alone with the cyborg.”

  “Because if you were me, he wouldn’t like me,” she said, then debated whether that had made sense.

  Abelardus snorted. “Perhaps. But you have to admit, I’m the more logical choice.”

  “Choice for what?” she asked, glancing toward the hatchway, making sure she still had a direct path toward it in case Abelardus did something… untoward. She didn’t have any weapons with her, not even her multitool, and she was aware that he was a large, strong man, mental powers notwithstanding.

  “Alisa,” he said softly, hold
ing out his hands, his palms open. “I’m not an animal. I… I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I haven’t dealt much with non-Starseers, to be honest. When everybody knows each other’s thoughts, reading people isn’t really an intrusion. It’s just something everyone does. And as far as choices…”

  He shrugged and stepped forward.

  Alisa thought about walking out, but her feet did not move. She found herself curious to know what he would say.

  “If you were looking for someone to go along with you on your journeys, to help you find your daughter, I would be the logical choice, wouldn’t I?” He tilted his head, nothing but warmth and concern, even innocence in his inquiry. “I would be the one who could teach her once you found her. I wouldn’t mind. I’ve taught before. I like kids.”

  She stared at him, realizing that he was making a good point. She was almost puzzled that she hadn’t thought of it before. As much as she liked Leonidas, he wouldn’t know how to help raise a girl gifted with Starseer talents. Besides, he had not said he wanted to do anything like that. He hadn’t made it clear at all if he was interested in her in a romantic sense.

  Abelardus took another step forward and reached toward her, clasping her hands gently in his.

  Uncertainty entered her again, and she reminded herself that she hadn’t wanted to end up in this position, hadn’t wanted to be alone with him.

  “I’ll help you find her,” he whispered, gazing into her eyes. “I know Durant, know where to look even if he doesn’t answer his messages. I can make some guesses as to what he was up to and where he might be.”

  “Why?” she whispered. “Why would you bother? The staff—”

  “Isn’t what I’m interested in.” Abelardus lifted a hand to her cheek, keeping his other hand down, hers captured within it.

  Captured, an odd word choice. Was she a prisoner here? Surely not. In fact, she should be delighted with his attention. He was a handsome man, strong, talented, well connected in his society, able to protect her from the threats out in the system.

  Abelardus’s head bent toward her, his eyes suddenly closer to hers. His lips brushed her lips, and she did not draw back. Why would she draw back? He might be cocky, but he wasn’t a bad man. Maybe he would even be a good father. A teacher and protector for Jelena. He shifted closer, the length of his body pressing against hers, his kiss deepening, growing more certain. Maybe she could even see having more children with him, children who would have strong genes, who might have the potential to become—

  Alisa frowned at the thought. It was so foreign to anything she cared about.

  With a flood of adrenaline, she realized what was going on. The bastard was manipulating her. And kissing her. What the hells?

  She pulled her mouth away from his, stepping back, her shoulder blades bumping the sensor panel. She was torn between shouting at him and punching him, and in that moment of hesitation, she noticed someone else standing in the hatchway, someone who must have just arrived, someone who was staring at them with a shocked expression on his face.

  Leonidas.

  As soon as their eyes met, he jerked back as if stung. He disappeared before she could blurt a wait.

  Fury surged through her, and she planted her hands on Abelardus’s chest and shoved him away.

  “You asshole,” she growled.

  He glanced toward the hatchway, then back to her and licked his lips. “Alisa, you know I’m right. The right choice.”

  “You’re not the right anything,” she said, pushing away from the sensor equipment, her hands balling into fists. “And you can take your staff and shove it up your ass. Don’t you ever touch me again.”

  He lifted a hand toward her. She punched him in the eye. Pain flared from her knuckles, but she was half-tempted to do it again. He hadn’t tried to block, and now, he merely gaped at her, lifting his fingers to his eye.

  She stalked out, shaking with rage and indignation. She couldn’t believe he had been trying to brainwash her, maybe to rape her, damn it. How far would he have taken that? The sun gods knew there was a reason her people had gone to war with his and been behind blowing up their home world.

  Trembling, she turned down the corridor toward her cabin, wanting to jump inside and lock the hatch, afraid Abelardus would follow. What would she do if he did?

  When she drew even with Leonidas’s hatch, she stopped there. Had he gone back to his cabin? He would be far more protection than anyone else if Abelardus did follow her. More than that, she wanted to explain what that had been, that she hadn’t willingly kissed Abelardus. She might not know if Leonidas had romantic feelings for her, but she knew she didn’t want him thinking that she had romantic feelings for Abelardus. He would surely think less of her. And if he did have feelings for her, she wouldn’t want him thinking that she had chosen that ass over him.

  She knocked on his hatch, looking toward the intersection, still afraid Abelardus might stalk after her. The right choice. A good man. Please. All she knew was that he hadn’t paid her a lick of attention until he’d decided she had Starseer genes. Now, all of a sudden, he thought she would be a good choice for making babies?

  “Ass,” she growled again, almost missing that Leonidas’s hatch had opened.

  “Not me, I trust,” he said quietly, warily.

  “That wasn’t what you think,” she rushed to say.

  “It’s none of my business,” he said. “I heard people talking in NavCom and thought something might have changed. With the station. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  “You weren’t intruding. Trust me. Can I come in? Please?” She glanced toward the intersection again, though it remained empty.

  Leonidas stepped aside.

  Alisa hurried in, almost amused as she remembered there had been a time when she hadn’t wanted to be alone with him, when she had been worried about going into his cabin by herself. He shut the hatch, and she spun toward him. She meant to speak, to explain what had happened, but instead found herself flinging her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

  At first, he did not move, did not seem to know what to do, but eventually, his arms came around her. She hugged him tighter, clenching her eyes shut, tears leaking out. She wasn’t sure why the tears were there, just that she was frustrated that she had been so weak-willed as to let Abelardus get as far as he had.

  “That wasn’t my choice,” she said, her voice muffled since her lips were pressed against his shoulder. “He made me—I mean, he was in my head, trying to convince me. I can’t stand him. I’d never kiss him.”

  Would he believe her? She worried he wouldn’t. Or that he would think she was pathetic for succumbing to that mind manipulation. Or he’d ask why Abelardus would have any interest in her, and then she would have to explain her newly discovered genes. Leonidas hated Starseers. Would he hate her too?

  “He tried to force you?” Leonidas asked, his voice like ice, his body growing tense, like a coil on the verge of snapping.

  “He tried to trick me,” she said, abruptly wanting to downplay the situation, lest he stalk off and try to kill Abelardus.

  Too late, the rage in his eyes said. More than rage. There was murder in their hard blue depths.

  He released her and spun for the hatch.

  “No, Leonidas—”

  He didn’t stop. He yanked open the hatch.

  Desperate to stop him, Alisa leaped onto his back, wrapping her arms and legs around him. At the least, he would have trouble murdering someone with her attached.

  “Stop,” she whispered in his ear, not wanting to wake everyone—or alert Abelardus. “Please, just listen.”

  Her weight on his back did not affect him whatsoever, but he paused, one hand gripping the jamb. “I’m listening.”

  “He’s the only lead I have for finding Jelena. If you kill him, that’ll make things harder, if not impossible for me. Not to mention that you’ll end up incurring the wrath of all the Starseers if they find out that you killed him.”

>   She hung from his shoulders, neither of them moving as she waited for his response. Maybe she had been wrong, and he’d only intended to beat up Abelardus, not kill him. Maybe she was being overly dramatic.

  “I don’t care about the Starseers,” Leonidas said, not denying that he’d had murder in his thoughts.

  “What about me? Don’t you think you all have delayed me enough on my hunt to find my daughter?” She winced, wishing she could retract the question as soon as she asked it. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel guilty, especially when he wanted to charge out to her defense.

  Leonidas lowered his head, his chin to his chest, and she felt even worse.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered and pressed her face to the side of his neck.

  He was still tense, his corded muscles rock hard against her cheek, but some of the blind fury seemed to have faded.

  “Can I at least beat him senseless?” he asked.

  “I already punched him,” she said.

  A feeble effort compared to what Leonidas could do, but she flexed her hand without letting go of him, wondering if she would have bruised knuckles in the morning. They already ached. She distinctly remembered her unarmed-combat instructor telling her to use palm strikes instead of punches, but that punch had felt good. It had been worth it.

  “Did you?” he murmured, sounding pleased. “I suppose you can handle your own battles.” His fingers tightened on the jamb, and she imagined he was still thinking of pummeling Abelardus.

  Maybe she should let him. But she would much rather keep hugging him, however odd the hug, than let him run off to get into a fight that could end up in serious injuries, for Abelardus and him.

  “When I’ve imagined riding you before, this wasn’t quite how I pictured it,” she said, making the joke in the hope of further lightening his mood. They could both use some humor right now, whether he would find it appropriate or not.

  “What?” He sounded more puzzled than amused as he turned his head, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

  “Leonidas, you’re oddly oblivious for a handsome man who’s old enough to have had many women fling themselves at him during the course of his life.”