Infinite Justice

by Shéa MacLeod

  She placed the saw on the floor and removed her goggles. Now that she’d finally found what she was looking for, she hesitated. The man inside was dangerous. Maybe too dangerous to be let out.

  Don’t be an idiot, Zala. She could almost hear her mother’s voice barking in her ear. The matriarch of House Lei couldn’t stand indecision. Foolish decisions such as this only prove you are incapable of being a true captain. You are certainly a poor choice for matriarch. If only I’d had another daughter.

  “But I am a captain, Mother,” she muttered. “And one day I will be matriarch.” Dangerous or not, she needed the man inside. Her fingers danced over the compupad on the side of the stasis box. Audley had been unable to find the security code anywhere within the Syndicate system, but House Lei had its own codes, which opened pretty much anything.

  She punched in her captain’s code. Nothing. She tried her personal House code. Still nothing.

  She frowned, brow wrinkling. There was one person whose code could open the box for certain. She’d already misused it once. Her mother would have a fit if she knew Zala not only had the precious master code of House Lei but had used it not once, but twice, for something underhanded. She typed in the code, and the orange light on the box turned green.

  She took a step back when the lid on the box opened with a hiss, chill mist spilling from within. She waited for the person inside to wake up. Nervously she fluffed her hair, hiding the House tattoo. First rule of negotiation: never show your opponent your true self. That was one useful thing her mother had taught her. Granted, the tattoo made that difficult, but even her mother couldn’t change the rules of the Houses, much as she may wish to.

  Something stirred inside the box. She stiffened her spine and rolled back her shoulders into the perfect posture she’d had drilled into her since she was old enough to walk. Good posture equaled good breeding, and good breeding equaled power. Rule two: act as though you are important, and your opponent will believe you are. Or as Audley would say, “Fake it ’til you make it.” She ought to be good at that by now.

  The mist puffed higher as someone rose from the box. When it cleared, she found herself staring, dumbfounded.

  “What the Hades are you wearing?” she couldn’t help blurting. Despite her training, she’d had led a fairly insular life before joining the riders. And since then, most of the planets she’d been assigned to had been surprisingly conservative for the twenty-second century. She’d never seen anything like the person stepping out of that stasis box.

  The man—it was definitely a man—appeared a little dazed. He glanced down at his attire before shooting her a sardonic look. “Who are you?” He had a smooth, throaty baritone that sent shivers down her spine. She had never in her life heard a voice quite like it.

  “Is that a dress?” It was the only thing her stupid fried brain could come up with.

  “It’s a kilt.” As if that explained everything.

  She gaped at him. The men of Hiberon were known for their fondness for kilts, but she’d never actually seen one before. It was... astonishing. He had very nice legs, too—heavily muscled, the bronze skin lightly sprinkled with fine black hair. She wondered what one wore under a kilt. She’d heard rumors.

  He stepped out of the box and onto the floor. He was at least six and a half feet tall, every inch of him angles and planes and rugged manliness. Nothing like the pampered House scions she’d grown up with, and nothing at all like Audley who, while large and muscular, was like a brother to her. This man practically oozed sex appeal.

  She repressed a shudder. She wasn’t sure if it were one of fear or desire. Maybe both.

  “Who the Hades are you, and where the Hades am I?” He crossed massive arms over a broad chest and glowered, the bright blue of his eyes like twin shards of ice. Probably it was meant to intimidate, but instead she felt strangely flushed. Maybe her heat regulating implants were malfunctioning. She’d have to get Jeric to look them over later. Her heart beat harder than it should, and her breathing had gone a little ragged. Was she coming down with the Omicron flu?

  She clenched her hands into fists and came to attention. “I am Captain Zala Lei of the starship Infinite Justice.”

  He glanced around the bay, doubt in his expression. “This is a rider ship?”

  She understood his confusion. Justice was unusually small for the riders, but she was proud of her ship and crew, such as it was. She tilted her chin up, careful not to reveal her tattoo. “Yes.”

  His jaw hardened. “On what charge?”

  “What?”

  “On what charge are you arresting me?”

  She’d rehearsed this conversation countless times in her mind. It had never gone quite this way. “Um. No charge.” She wanted to kick herself. Way to take control, Zala. Mother would be so proud.

  “Excuse me?” He strode across the room, his boots making a dull thunk against the steel plates of the cargo bay. He stopped inches away from her. Way too close for her liking.

  She licked her lips and desperately resisted the blush that threatened to flood her fair skin. His nearness unnerved her. She was used to being surrounded by slight men with soft voices, groomed from birth as the ultimate gentlemen. Despite wearing a dress—uh, kilt—the man in front of her was probably one of the most masculine men she’d ever seen.

  Really, Zala. I do not understand why you insist on letting your hormones run rampant. It is entirely unseemly. As usual, memories of her mother’s voice put steel in her spine. She swallowed hard. “I said there is no charge. You’re not under arrest.”

  “Then why did one of your bounty hunter goons inject me and stick me in that box? What penal colony are you sending me to? Drakk? Omicron 8? Let me guess, one of the ice worlds.”

  “I had nothing to do with putting you in that box,” she snapped. “Neither did my men. I’m the one who rescued you.”

  His short burst of laughter made her flinch. “You’re kidding, right?”

  The derision in his voice irked her. “Not at all, but I’m happy to put you back in it if you like.” It was a lie. She needed him, but he didn’t need to know that.

  He leaned in until his face was inches from hers. She could see the green flecks in his blue eyes and the individual dark whiskers sprinkled across that stubborn jaw of his. “Go ahead. I’d like to see you try.”

  Zala felt both anger at his dismissal and humor at his ignorance. Rule number three: teach them respect. “Very well,” she said softly. “As you wish.”

  With lightning speed her brain implants kicked on, flashing stats in front of her eyes, judging distance, speed, power. Adrenaline flooded her system. The punch was so fast, the human eye could barely detect it. He doubled over as her fist landed in his solar plexus. A swift, sweeping kick to the back of the knees, and he was flat on his back. She dropped on top him and lifted a hand to deliver an electric charge from her implants, sparks dancing on her fingertips. It wouldn’t kill him, but it sure as Hades would send a message.

  “Enough!” He raised a hand to block her. “I surrender.”

  Was he laughing? She barely refrained from snarling. “I’m not sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

  He lowered his arm. “No?” He gave her a knowing look.

  Oh, kata. By using her implants she’d broken rule number one. With a sigh, she clambered off him. Idiot. Would she never learn? “Truce?”

  “Truce, scion.” The smirk made her want to punch him again even as she couldn’t resist a glance at the tantalizing amount of thigh revealed by his rucked-up kilt. She held out a hand, which he graciously took. “Now, tell me, Captain, if you’re not the one who put me in that box, who did?”

  “A bounty hunter, as you said. He was on his way to deliver you to the penal colony on Javarrah when he was waylaid by one of my contacts.” Fortunately for both of them, the bounty hunter had had no idea who his prisoner was, only that he was important. Hence the blackmail attempt.. “Why in the Nine Hades would you risk the anger of the Syndicate
by liberating me? They want me dead, you know.”

  He was right about that, hence the sentence to Javarrah. The ice planet killed men faster than any old-world gas chamber. Luckily for him, the Syndicate Houses didn’t know that the most wanted “terrorist” in the galaxy was currently standing before her in a knee-length skirt—kilt—and combat boots. Holy Mother.

  “I needed to get to you before the Syndicate did. I need your help.” It was hard for her to admit that, but it was true.

  Interest sparked in his eyes. “My help?”

  “I need a rider.”

  “You want me to be your rider?”

  “Rumor has it you took down House Lodai.”

  “Rumor has it the man who took down House Lodai is dead,” he bit out.

  She allowed herself a tight smile, careful not to show too much pleasure at having the upper hand, much as she’d seen her mother do during countless negotiations. “Yet you and I know differently, do we not?” He said nothing, so she continued. “There is a small job I need help with, and I can’t think of anyone better to assist. You help me, and I will keep your secret and you get your freedom. I will give you a new name, a clean identity. No one need ever know the truth. Agreed?”

  He stared at her for a long time. Finally he nodded.

  “Come with me. I’ll tell you about the job, but first I’ll introduce you to the crew.” She strode toward the door, expecting him to follow. He did. “By the way, do you have a name?” She knew who he was, or rather what he had been, but no one knew his name. Even the best Syndicate spies hadn’t figured out that one. He was known only by the ancient Chinese symbol for justice: an X-like character, So they’d called him X.

  “You can call me Xander.”

  “Xander.” The X made sense now. She rolled the name around on her tongue as she stepped onto the lift tube. Double sexy. Then she felt like smacking herself upside the head. One job. She needed him for one job. That was it. “You can call me Captain.”

  She ignored his grin. Distance was important. She’d worked too hard gaining the respect of the other captains to give it up for this one man. “Do you want to change first? Audley’s bigger than you, but I’m sure something of his will work.”

  “Why would I want to change? I’m perfectly comfortable.” He leaned against the lift tube wall, one bare leg crossed lazily over the other.

  “In a skirt?”

  “Kilt.” Xander shrugged. “You’re wearing pants.”

  He had her there. She suddenly realized how ridiculous it all was. Who cared what he was wearing? She finally settled for a lame, “Um... we’re in space.”

  “I brought down House Lodai in what you’re calling a skirt,” he said with a grin. “I think I’ll be fine.”

  Chapter Ten

  “YOU WANT ME TO MURDER someone?”

  “That’s not what I said.” An edge of impatience crept into her voice. “If possible, I we need to capture him. The Syndicate will have questions.”

  He crossed his arms. “And if we can’t capture him?”

  “Then it’s an execution. He’s a serial killer. He’s evil. He was already judged and sentenced once before.”

  Riders and captains had free reign to execute whomever they chose—as long as the person had been properly judged beforehand. Which, in Tannen’s case, he had.

  “Wouldn’t killing him make me just like him?”

  She barely refrained from an eye roll. “Execute him. It’s a rider’s job. Serial killers get two choices: lobotomy or death. Since this guy has a pile of victims from here to Luna, let’s just say option number one is out. So, if we can’t capture him...” She didn’t bother finishing the sentence.

  “One problem.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. His kilt rode up his thighs, revealing a delightful amount of tanned, muscular legs. She forced herself to ignore the view, poured a cup of coffee and joined him at the mess hall’s only table.

  “And that problem is?”

  “Technically, I am not a recognized Syndicate rider. You kill him, it’s execution. I kill him, it’s murder.”

  He wasn’t entirely wrong. In order to carry out rider duties, a person had to be licensed by the Syndicate Houses and the Confederacy of Riders, otherwise everyone would be running around shooting whomever they pleased. It would make the chaos of the last Old Earth war look like a Sun’s day picnic. The problem was, she couldn’t do this job alone if she wanted to get out of it alive. Tannen was far too dangerous, and she was particularly vulnerable. That’s why she was enlisting Xander.

  “What do you care?” Zala snapped. “You’re a wanted terrorist.” If the Syndicate ever discovered who he really was, his life wouldn’t be worth living. But she wasn’t ready to let on that she suspected his true identity.

  Xander laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I destroy only the evil and corrupt. I’d say ‘terrorist’ is a matter of perspective.”

  “And you don’t think bringing down a serial killer who brutalizes his victims is equally important?”

  His eyes locked with hers. “Of course it is, but it’s your job. Why do you want me to do it?”

  “A ship usually has both captain and rider. Mine is deemed too small, so while I’m captain in truth, I am only rider by default. I need someone with more experience dealing with this kind of criminal.”

  He frowned. “Why would they send such a small ship? Why not send you properly outfitted to do your job?”

  “It’s a long story,” she said. And one she wasn’t willing to tell a virtual stranger. The Syndicate currently had no idea Tannen was alive or that she was tracking him. “Suffice to say the Syndicate feels my ship sufficient for the outer planets.”

  “Not wasting their big ships on the ghetto, huh? Surely they trained you in the law so you could efficiently administer justice.”

  “They did, but this is different.”

  “Why?”

  She glanced down at her hands, then back at Xander. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. She had to tell him. He was the most dangerous man she’d been able to find in the Syndicate database and the only one with the hacking skills she needed. The one man who might have a hope in Hades against Tannen. Who might not flinch at what he had to do. “Tannen has a very specific type.”

  “Okay, what? Blondes? Brunettes?”

  “Enhanced.”

  He stared pointedly at her chest, which was a decent size but definitely natural. “You’re not enhanced.”

  She couldn’t help the short bark of laughter, even though she figured she should be offended. “I mean implant enhanced. The kind of implants that come with being a starship captain.” She hesitated. “And a scion of a major Syndicate House. The kind that make you stronger, let you tap into the web, speak mind to mind.”

  “Okay, so you’ve got implants. Can’t you just overwhelm his mind, shut him down from a distance?”

  She shook her head. “He’s got similar implants. Black market ones. I’d never get in. Not in time. Same goes for any other captain or rider. But you can hack his implants.”

  Xander frowned. “Hacking skills aside, I’m still not sure I understand why you need me. What are you going to do while I’m down there hacking him?”

  “I’m the bait.”

  “XANDER. HUH. WHAT KINDA name is Xander?” The man called Audley glared at him.

  Xander would never admit to anyone he was more than a little nervous. Zala hadn’t been lying when she’d said Audley was big. Hades, big was an understatement. The guy was a giant. He glowered down from his seven-foot height, arms crossed over a chest the size of a bull’s, taking up what felt like half the ship’s bridge. He probably could have choked a man to death with one of his many braids.

  After the Bio Wars, the few genetically enhanced humans who survived had been executed. There was a death sentence on those who’d had their DNA mucked with.

  Xander glanced at Zala. From the moment he’d caught sight of her, she’
d taken his breath away. She was surprisingly dainty for a Syndicate captain, fine boned and curvy, with pale olive-toned skin. Her big green eyes could swallow a man whole. He wondered what she looked like under that flight suit. He mentally told himself to stop that line of thought before Audley pounded him.

  “Be nice, Aud. He’s with us.” Her tone was mild, but the big man immediately unfurrowed his brow. A wide smile showed off impossibly white teeth, and dimples formed between the rows of ceremonial scars dotting his dark cheeks. “Well, why didn’t you say so, Captain.” He thrust out a hand, grabbed Xander’s, and pumped so hard, Xander was convinced he’d end up with a dislocated shoulder. “What you do, man? Gunner? Tech? Mech? Not nav.” He shot Zala a dirty look.

  “No, man, not nav,” Xander assured him. Although he was drakking good at navigation. A man in his line of work had to be. He sure wasn’t going to step on the big man’s toes, though. “Rider.”

  Audley flashed an even bigger smile. “Well, Hades, that’s good. Ain’t had a rider in... ever.” He gave Xander a conspiratorial wink. “Captain ain’t supposed to do rider duty, ken? Gotta keep up appearances.”

  Xander couldn’t help but smile back. “You’re not wrong there.” The rider did the dirty work. The captain kept his or her hands clean. That was how it was supposed to be. Sometimes a captain was forced to do both, and usually that ended up damaging the captain’s reputation. Never a good thing in the outer planets; sometimes your rep was the only thing you had. How Zala had managed so long without a rider was a miracle. Or a sign of how good she was at her job.

  “Enough, you two,” she snapped. “You can do the male bonding thing later. Where in Hades is Jeric?”

  Audley shrugged massive shoulders. “You know what he’s like, Captain.” He strode across the bridge and stomped on a loose grate near the starboard bulkhead. “Oy! Jeric. Get your butt up here, rapid.” No response. Audley stomped again. “Captain says, old man.”