by Susan Grant
Val’s spirit swelled with the praise. At times her dreams of being a raider had her feeling like a fish swimming upstream. Now she had another clan captain’s validation besides her loving father’s.
Conn tried to find Val in the crowd with a protective father’s eyes, but she remained hidden on purpose. She still wasn’t sure what was coming. “If it were only me, I’d give you the entire share for saving her life,” he admitted. “But it is not only me. I have a clan to think of and so do you. We will share the booty, fifty-fifty. The sum will be calculated once we know the haul’s total value. What do you say, young Sureblood, son of Tomark?”
Son of Tomark. The label wasn’t impulsive or accidental. Conn wanted to remind Dake both of his roots and the sentiments of the men who preceded him before he answered. But little did he know that Dake felt much the same way about the clans working together.
Dake nodded. “Aye, fifty-fifty.”
Conn’s grin finalized the deal. “Done.”
And with that, Val thought, history had been made.
CHAPTER SEVEN
VAL WAS USHERED TO THE Blue shuttle with the others. She turned, hoping to say farewell to Dake, but he was surrounded by his raiders, immersed in making plans for the handling of the damaged freighter and protecting the ore. He glanced up as she was hurried past the group. His gaze lingered, his body turning when he realized she was leaving. Then a hand landed on his big shoulder, urging him back to the task at hand, and he was lost to her, hunched over with his raiders.
He had his life and responsibilities, and she had hers. She mustn’t forget it.
She found a seat aboard and strapped in. As the shuttle dropped away from Tomark’s Pride she saw Dake stride to the hatch. A glimpse of his bleak, painted face as he peered out at the departing shuttle, his hand spread on the porthole glass in a gesture of farewell, had her wondering if he felt the same odd tug as she did, that feeling you got when you had to leave a conversation unfinished.
“Good riddance, eh?”
Val jerked her attention around to Ayl, who’d been assigned to the shuttle, apparently, tallying the head count and accounting for injuries. “Hells, Val,” he said. “I was worried sick. You in their custody. Gangsters. Cheats. Did they try anything? I swear, I—”
“They acted honorably in every way. No blood drinking or wenching. They’re a lot like us Blues, actually. Well, they’re a lot bigger—like giants, some of them—but they’re not barbarians and they’re definitely not stupid. I don’t know why Nezerihm says that, but I saw the truth myself.”
Ayl hung on her every word, his expression shifting between angry and anxious. “Is it true—the Sureblood clan captain saved you from going overboard?”
She nodded. “Aye, he did. Dake Sureblood.”
“Dake…” He made a fist on his thigh, his expression going hard, his dark eyes ablaze. “This is why it’s too dangerous for you to be a-raiding. This is why I want you at home.”
Here we go again. She tried to control the boiling irritation his opinions caused, tried to tell herself that he was simply protective and concerned for her welfare. That he didn’t really want her under his thumb; he just came across that way. “I’m a raider, Ayl. Accept it, or we’ll never be able to be friends.”
“I want more than friendship with you.”
She chose her response carefully as plotting out a raid. It was no different from trying to escape the pull of the asteroid after shaking the pursuing Coalition fighters: too hard on Ayl and she’d make his competitiveness and jealousy boil over, too soft and he’d think they’d marry tomorrow. Somewhere in between was the sweet spot where he’d eventually lose interest in her. “If you want more than friendship, then you have to accept that raiding is all I’ve ever wanted to do. I’ve got my eyes on being a raid leader. And someday, I want to be a captain just like Grizz. Those are my dreams, Ayl. I can’t see giving them up—for anyone.” She held on to his gaze, willing him to understand even the smallest part of her—what made her heart beat, what fueled her spirit. “Don’t you feel the same about your own dreams?”
“Dreams, bah. I have cold, hard, tangible goals that I will achieve. I will see our clan into the future, Val. I will ensure its survival. There are many, many threats in the way, at the top are those Surebloods. You tend to be an idealist, always seeing the best in people and situations, a lot like your father, if you want to know. Reality is cold, Valeeya. Merciless. To trust the Surebloods or any of the other clans is to doom our future. We can’t, and I won’t. Someday you’ll understand why. Until then, go on and dream if it makes you happy, because I obviously can’t.”
He pushed to his feet and lurched back up to the cockpit to sit with the pilot. She wasn’t sure what bothered her more about Ayl—his eagerness to be promoted, or his blind desire to compete against the other clans—and win.
Was she really an idealist? She thought of how her opinion of the Surebloods had changed. Was it naive to trust the clan that had cheated them out of so many raids and now claimed those incidents were misunderstandings and Nezerihm’s fault? The idea seemed feasible when she was in the Sureblood’s company, listening to his stirring speech, fighting the outsider bastards at his side. But now she wasn’t as sure.
The rest of the trip passed in pensive silence, with Val not knowing if she should doubt her judgment or be thankful for it. The moment the shuttle docked, she grabbed her gear and climbed the ladder to the upper deck, feeling about ten years older than when she flew down it the day before. There was no chance to stow her gear before she was summoned.
“Val, get your ass in my office, front and center!” Grizz bellowed. “Your father’s here.”
Gods help me.
She dropped her gear where she stood, the inner flaps of her body armor hanging open over her wrinkled all-clime suit, her loosened boot seals clinking against her leggings.
“I’ll stow your stuff for you, Val.” Reeve rested a reassuring and pitying glove on her shoulder. Even the slave girl acted afraid for her. Ayl folded his arms over his chest, as if he were glad she was about to get her due.
Conn was busy conferring with Grizz over a star chart when Val paused in the doorway leading into the room. The two old friends were more like brothers. Every time Val saw them together, she was reminded of their special bond.
Scowling, Conn dug in his pocket for a smoke, reading the chart as he twiddled a squatter’s-leaf cigarette between two sandpaper fingertips. He’d changed into a more casual outfit, she noticed. A comfortable, slate-gray shirt and trousers tucked in boots meant more for Artoom’s rains and mud than a starship’s sleek quarters. He took a deep drag on the cigarette, nodding at something Grizz said. He seemed as sharp as always. How the slightly narcotic squatter’s leaf didn’t affect him more she didn’t know. She’d heard the body built up a resistance. He’d started smoking to combat the pain of losing his hand, but never gave it up. Maybe the pain of not being able to go out on raids hurt worse.
She cleared her throat. “Valeeya Blue, reporting as ordered.”
Both men glanced up. Her heart caught at the sight of her father’s grin. His eyes, so much like hers, filled with love and every good memory she had. A little girl again for a moment, she forgot about protocol and hurried into his open arms, drinking in the scents of laundry soap, her papa and the squatter’s leaf.
His embrace was crushing, his voice low and rumbling. “Ah, Valeeya.” He moved her back, his hand on her cheek, and seemed to take all of her in. His brows drew together. “You’ve got micro-hemorrhages in your eyes. Some bruising. How’s your hearing?”
“Some ringing is all. It’s nothing.”
“‘It’s nothing,’” he mimicked. He swore and shook his head. “What else would I expect you to say? You’re a raider. You take your falls and pick yourself back up, no less than I’d expect from any other Blue raider. But you’re not any Blue raider. You’re my daughter.”
His eyes were strangely moist as he dragged deeply on t
he cigarette, his gaze warm with love. “I remember you as a wee girl, a tiny thing, crawling under the table, weaving between the boots while I was busy briefing my raiders.”
“I was never tiny, Papa.” She was chubby until puberty, then she “stretched out like taffy,” her mother liked to say. She’d never be as willowy and tall as Sashya, but she’d inherited her delicacy if not her fragility.
“But you’re all grown up now,” he said. “I have to keep telling myself that. You’re not the babe I held in my arms only a few hours after you were born.”
“Aye, he did.” Grizz chuckled. “‘Look what the gods brought us,’ he told me that day, showing you off. ‘A girl child,’ he said. ‘Ain’t she a beauty? Looks just like my Sashya.’ I told him he’d better watch out—that the gods may have given you your mother’s looks but his personality, just to drive him mad. He simply laughed, saying he’d deserve it if you grew up to be the most notorious she-pirate of all time.”
Notorious. The word lingered in the air like the smoke.
The glowing tip of the cigarette illuminated Conn’s eyes as he inhaled again. “You took over as raid leader when Warrybrook was trapped,” he said, turning serious.
“As I was trained to do,” she reminded him.
“You then directed your team to win control of the bridge, and encountered the Surebloods, who disarmed you.”
“Aye.” She stood straighter even as her insides quaked. “We were outmanned and outgunned. I thought of my team’s safety first. You always say, ‘Live to raid another day.’”
“Is that an excuse I hear comin’ out of that mouth?” He sucked in an angry drag on the cigarette. “Well, girl?” She swallowed. Yes or no, which was the right answer? “No, sir. It isn’t an excuse. They were blowing up the skiffs and we had to make our way to the bridge. We had a common enemy—enemies, actually. If we fought each other, we’d have weakened our offensive. We probably never would have made it out.”
“Hmm.” Smoke drifted in front of Conn’s face, obscuring his features. “So you joined forces and went raidin’ with the Surebloods.”
“I was protecting the interests of my clan, hoping to salvage the raid, sir. The only chance at that was to be part of that raid. And help lead it, which I believe I did. To a successful conclusion.” She took a steadying breath to quench her simmering anger at the interrogation. They hadn’t been there. They couldn’t understand. “With all due respect, sir and Cap’n, I’m hearing a lot of second-guessing over what me and my team did. I’d like to know what any of you would have done different in my boots that would have ended up better than no deaths and a huge bounty to share. Or is the sharing the part that no one likes? Well, I could have demanded we keep all the bounty, but that would have been arrogant. I know what you always say about arrogance, Papa. The only thing worse is doing nothing when action could have been taken. Well, I did take action, using my best judgment. However unconventional my choices were, I got us home—every last one. No losses.” She stuck out her chin. Her loosened body armor chafed her damp neck. “If I’m going to be stripped of my raider’s standing, then I’ll take my punishment knowing I did the best I could.”
There. Now her father and Grizz knew from her own lips what her decisions were and why she made them. She’d face the consequences soon enough.
It was dead silent as Conn crushed out his cigarette in a vento dish. Smoke and the leftover, sweet odor vanished. “I have but one thing to say about your actions, Valeeya.” He looked up slowly, his gaze intense. “They bring honor to our clan.”
Val’s heart started pounding so hard that coupled with her healing eardrums she almost wasn’t sure she heard him right. “You’re…not disappointed in me?”
“Hells. I’m so damn proud of you, girl, I can hardly stand it.”
The next thing she knew, she was fighting tears of relief, grinding her teeth together so she didn’t shame herself by letting them fall. “Thank you,” she whispered as Grizz looked on, his eyes squinted with approval.
“You took a potentially deadly scenario and turned it into a success,” Conn said. “Because of your heroic actions, and those of your skiff team, I’m promoting all of you—you, Hervor and Reeve. And you’ve got yourself a permanent skiff commander slot.”
She allowed herself a grin. “Aye, aye, sir.”
“But blast it, girl, it took long enough to get you to stand up for yourself. The only second-guessing going on was you second-guessing yourself! Learn to trust your instincts. Ain’t nothing more accurate. When skill can’t carry you and your luck runs out, your gut keeps you alive.” His expression darkened. “You’ll also live longer if you don’t let the Ayls of the world get under your skin.”
Ayl. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second. Grizz must have told him about her argument with Ayl during the briefing, friend to friend. Grizz’s love for her father and for her was obvious. He had no children of his own, having lost the love of his life early. He’d treated her and her elder brother as his own kin all their lives. But it was her he seemed to dote on the most. With doting also came tattling, it seemed. “No man will get under my skin again, I swear it,” she assured them both.
“Oh, it’ll happen,” her father said, his gaze whiskey-warm. “There’ll be a man, Val, and you’ll want him there. But you won’t let him keep you from doing your job. Nor will he want you to if he’s the right one for you.”
No man fell into that category.
No Blue clan man. With a pang she thought of Dake, then shut down the crazy thought.
Chuckling at her flustered state, Conn dismissed her. “Shower up, girl, we’re heading home. We’ve a gathering to prepare for.” He seemed to enjoy her shock and surprise at his news. “The Sureblood suggested it and I seconded it—and offered to host the event. All the clans will be there. It’s going to take a true Blue clan effort to get Artoom ready in time.”
A gathering! Days of negotiations, competitions, feasting. Dancing. Dake. He’d pushed for a gathering. To work on clan cooperation. But still, he was coming to Artoom. A rush of adrenaline spread throughout her body. It was like what she felt before a raid but different. Better.
Grinning, Conn rubbed his bad arm with his good one, then dug in his pocket for a fresh cigarette. “See what you started, daughter? Because of what happened on that freighter, Tomark’s son saving your life, we’re holding the first gathering since I was a boy. A new era of clan cooperation will begin.”
You’re an idealist, always seeing the best in people and situations, a lot like your father, if you want to know. Reality is cold, Valeeya. Merciless. To trust the Surebloods or any of the clans is to doom our future. We can’t, and I won’t. Someday you’ll understand why.
Haunted by Ayl’s warning, she hoped that someday she’d be credited with the first gathering in a generation, and not blamed for it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TOO LONG WITHOUT…Too long being what she was not…
Driven by need and ridden with guilt, Ferren sneaked out of the cottage she shared with Reeve and his family. It wasn’t her intention to anger the kindly land folk who, unlike the slavers, sought to contain her out of worry and compassion, not cruelty and control. Or erotic curiosity, she thought, shuddering at the twisted hobbies of her past captors. Yet, nothing the slavers had done to her since the capture could match the painful, slow starvation of her soul away from the water.
Weakened by too many months of deprivation, she’d listened all day to the rain pouring down, drumming on the windows, the roof, making her pulse beat with yearning and homesickness for the world she’d lost and to which she might never be able to return to again.
You volunteered for this mission.
Yes, but it didn’t make it any easier.
You’re a warrior.
Yet she felt no stronger for it in that moment of weakness, a desperate escape for a few moments’ peace. For her rescuers, she’d tried to last the entire day required between the baths they allowed her. For these
kindly land folk, she’d stoically endured her sentence on dry land until her clenched teeth ached and her temples throbbed. They thought they were protecting her from the cold, seeing her so frail, but water was her succor, like the very blood that flowed in her veins!
Holding back a sob, she ran down the path. The air outside was dense and cold compared to the house’s quaint rooms. Rain needled her skin. With no patience to find her way to the village baths, she followed the sound of falling water that had sung to her all day from inside the house, her bare feet sinking into spongy grass. But it wasn’t a waterfall at all. Rainwater gushed from a drainpipe attached to the roof of the cottage and emptied into a wooden barrel. Big enough.
Ferren climbed in, her long hair whipping against the thin, drenched shift she wore. The water was waist-high and so icy it stole her breath before making her cry out. Blessed Heart of the Sea, it was cold! She knew the shivering was dangerous, but only a few moments more. Ducking down, she let her head slip lower, water up to her chin. With the rainwater pounding her head, she dared to try what she couldn’t in the tub earlier with observant, caring eyes so near, and what she’d managed to do only once during her captivity. After that, they’d never allowed her to be alone.
She was too valuable a find to lose. Too precious a prize. For she and her kind were rarer than any other in all the known worlds, and more coveted.
Quaking with cold and an indescribable hunger, Ferren dunked her face in the shockingly cold water. Inhaling was no longer instinctive. She had to force it. Desperate and with all her might, she sucked in the cold, gushing stream. Her lungs filled. Then, a horrible wanting replaced her hunger.
