Harry's Sacrifice (3 page)

Roshin 72 joined the new Councilor’s staff unexpectedly. She’d been put in place for just such an opening, but she’d never really believed such a thing would happen. The competition to be on a Councilor’s staff was fierce, and she’d spent many of her early years off the grid, so to speak. She’d been raised in the
Zxerah
compound, but she wasn’t much of a fighter compared to most of her Brethren.

No, her talents lay in other directions. She did better in support functions and had excelled in her work in the Brotherhood’s enclave, eventually coming to the notice of the Patriarch—the leader of the
Zxerah
Brotherhood—while she steadily rose in the ranks of her own Alvian bloodline to attain the 72nd placing at a comparatively young age.

She’d impressed the Patriarch with her quiet nature and efficient mind, or so he’d said. He’d had her tested in many ways, both physically and mentally, and after due consideration, he’d made her a part of his secret corps of Alvian operatives who lived ordinary lives out among the Alvian populace.

When Councilor Troyan had been disgraced and kicked off the Council, she’d received orders to apply for one of many open positions on the new Councilor’s staff. She hadn’t expected to win one of the coveted spots, but she had.

And now she was a spy.

Roshin 72 hated to be late. Well, maybe not hate. She was unable to experience such things, but if she
could
hate, that would be the word to describe the echoes of what she felt when she was running late. Although she wasn’t really sure what hate was. It seemed to have a very broad definition. Perhaps another word would be better, but she didn’t know quite which one. She was still learning the nuances of human language.

Whatever it was she felt in those fleeting echoes, it wasn’t pleasant. Sort of an urgency and annoyance. She’d seen it among the human
Zxerah
, but her Alvian heart couldn’t really comprehend.

Regardless of her inner conjecture, Roshin 72 was late for a meeting and her superior was going to be displeased. She worked for the new Councilor, but she also reported back all the inner workings of the Council to her
Zxerah
Brethren.

Council meetings were dull for the most part. Roshin sat in the back, behind her Councilor at the staff table, making notes for her superior. She was ignored for the most part, but she had a great vantage point from which to view all the goings on of the Council.

She admired the new Councilor, although she’d been suspicious of him at first. Her assignment to his support staff was complex in nature—more complex than any Alvian realized except those privileged few of her fellows in the Brotherhood.

One of her first tasks had been to research the new Councilor. Everything she’d seen from him so far indicated he was a good man, concerned only for the betterment of the Alvian race as a whole. She might even go so far as to say he was something of an idealist—as much as any politician could be. Although, to be fair, he hadn’t been a career politician when he’d been tapped to join the Council.

After the disaster with former Councilor Troyan, they’d had to find someone who was unassailable to fill the suspect Councilor’s spot. The best way to do that was to pick someone highly respected by a majority of Alvians who was not part of the political establishment. He’d faced opposition from the political elite but had eventually won the post through popular support. Regular Alvians seemed to think he was the best man for the job, and having learned as much about him and his views in the short time she’d worked for him, Roshin 72 believed it too.

She didn’t want to be late, so she put her head down and hustled as best she could down the corridor. Until she crashed into something.

It made a sound. Not some
thing
. Some
one
.

“Please forgive me—” She looked upward, expecting to see a disapproving Alvian visage above the clean beige robes. What she saw instead stole her breath.

Amusement dancing in blue, human eyes. Sandy hair barely covered the tips of his pointed ears. She was confused. He was Alvian. But those eyes weren’t like any Alvian’s she had ever seen. Those were human eyes. And his features weren’t quite as sharply defined as the regular, angular Alvian visage. He was handsome in the extreme, but not quite one hundred percent Alvian. That meant he could only be…

“Hara,” she breathed, awestruck—or as close as she could come to it—by crashing into such an important person.

“Call me Harry. And you are?” His voice was rich and deep, warm and exuberant in a way she wasn’t used to hearing from someone with pointed ears. She’d learned about such things only from the human Brethren she’d befriended.

“Roshin 72,” she answered automatically.

“Roshin.” He seemed to examine the name, pausing before declaring, “I will call you Ro. Is that all right with you, pretty Ro?” His smile did things to her she didn’t understand, but she recognized playfulness from her interaction with her human friends.

“I am unsure how to respond,” she said honestly, nonplussed.

He chuckled as he bent to pick up some of the papers that had fallen at his feet when she’d bumped into him. He proffered the papers to her as she stood mutely. He was something she had never encountered before and did not know how to deal with.

“Nobody else has to know, Ro. My nickname for you will be our little secret.” He winked at her. That’s what she’d heard the gesture called where one eye closed and the other remained open. She didn’t really know what it meant, but she interpreted the smile that accompanied it as mischievous.

Chapter Two

The Patriarch of the secretive
Zxerah
Brotherhood had to travel anonymously when he traveled at all. The Council watched him closely, but it was possible to escape their notice from time to time. This was one of those times when he needed absolute anonymity.

The Council used the
Zxerah
as their private assassins, but kept the ghost squad—and especially the Patriarch—under close surveillance. They liked the skillset his warriors brought to the table, and their ability to move in and out of a situation without being seen, but the Council really didn’t like the fact that their pet assassins answered to their own leader first, before the Council. They used the ghost squadron when it suited their political purposes, but the Council did not trust the
Zxerah
or the Patriarch.

Only the Patriarch knew for certain that the Council’s fears were well grounded. They didn’t trust him, and if they knew what he planned—and had been actively working toward all his life—they would have cut him down long before now.

Grady Prime had given the Patriarch a recorded message that would help him make contact with a most peculiar Alvian. After that he had to get the Chief Engineer’s cooperation all on his own.

He’d put plans in place over the past week that would help him toward his goal—if all went well. Timing was critical. Things were coming to a head and he and his people had to be ready to act when the time came. The first step was making contact with Davin and his mate, Callie O’Hara. They had a third, a human named Richard St. John. The Patriarch knew all about them now and thought he’d devised the best possible way to approach them. It would start with the introduction Grady Prime had so thoughtfully provided, but how things would proceed from there, only the seers could say.

The Patriarch transmitted his message via a secure crystal. Such things were rare and hard to come by, but this particular crystal had been used by many Patriarchs before him going all the way back to Alvia Prime. It held a special code that the Chief Engineer should be able to decipher if he bothered to look. The Patriarch didn’t know Davin yet, but from his research about the Chief Engineer, the Patriarch was almost certain he
would
look into the ancient codes. It was a test of sorts. One of many that would allow the Patriarch to divine Davin’s true mettle.

The answer to the Patriarch’s transmission came even faster than he’d expected. He opened the channel for two-way communication and was pleased to find the Chief Engineer himself on the other end.

“Sir,” Davin said respectfully. “I was…surprised to receive your codes.”

One point in favor of Chief Engineer Davin, the Patriarch thought. He’d checked the code. Quickly too. The encryption had alerted Davin to the importance of the message and its bearer, but had not revealed the fact that he was dealing with one of the
Zxerah
Brotherhood, much less the Patriarch himself. Such confidences would come in time.

“Thank you for taking my call, Chief Engineer. I would like to meet with you, in person. With you and your mate, if possible.”

“I don’t expose my Resonance Mate to casual inspection by anyone, ancient codes or not, but I’ll meet with you and we can take it from there.”

The Patriarch bowed his head in respectful agreement. “I cannot be seen. The Council has eyes everywhere.”

“They do,” Davin agreed. “But few of them are within my facility, and I know just how to divert them. Come in to the south landing platform at sunset. I will meet you there.”

“You have my thanks.”

“One question,” Davin asked. “What is your name?”

The Patriarch hesitated. He didn’t use his familial designation often, outside of his own clan. Names told much about an Alvian. They spoke of genetic heritage and rank. But the Patriarch’s name held secrets known only to a few.

Still, trust had to start somewhere.

“You may call me Ronin.”

At sunset, the Patriarch’s craft came to rest on the southern landing pad at Chief Engineer Davin’s engineering facility. As promised, Davin met him at the pad, but he did not come alone. A dangerous-looking human male inspected the ship and the Patriarch with a thoroughness he respected. Apparently satisfied he’d found no contraband or anything that could be a threat, the human male stepped back and nodded to Davin.

“Welcome. I’m Davin. This is my friend, Rick.”

The Patriarch counted it to Davin’s credit that he introduced his human companion. The Patriarch had learned to value his human clan members. He believed any Alvian who did the same was one step ahead of the rest.

“I am Ronin.”

“What? No numbers?” Rick challenged.

“I no longer believe in the value of such designations, but if you are comfortable with them, I am Ronin Prime.”

“I’m not familiar with the Ronin genetic line,” Davin stated as they walked toward the doorway that would lead them inside the engineering complex.

“You would not be. We live in secret and have for many generations.”

“Interesting,” Davin commented as they went within. He led them to a room that held a large table with chairs all around. A conference room of sorts. “Please have a seat and tell us what brings you here.”

The Patriarch sat facing the doorway, as was his habit. He noted that Rick sat at an angle so that he could keep an eye on both him and the door. Rick was a soldier of some kind, well trained and alert. Davin took a seat opposite the Patriarch, his back to the wall where he could watch everything around the oval table, farthest from the door.

“A short time ago I met Grady Prime,” the Patriarch began. “As you know from the message I broadcasted to you, he was kind enough to record an introduction for me. I am interested in the nature of resonance mating and the effect emotion has on the process. Grady Prime told me a little bit about your situation and I was intrigued enough to want to meet you in person.”

“There’s got to be more to it than that. Grady Prime isn’t the kind of man to gossip idly, and I know for a fact that he’s always felt protective toward our mate, Callie, even before he joined the experiment. He wouldn’t send you to us unless you were more than you seem.”

“Very astute, Chief Engineer. Can I assume Rick is the human Resonance Mate in your triad Grady Prime mentioned?”

“Grady told you about me?” Rick asked, clearly surprised.

The Patriarch nodded. “If it will help set your mind at ease, I’ll tell you a bit more about myself and my mission.” Ronin knew he had to give a little in order to gain their trust and cooperation. “I’m the leader of a small group of Alvians who train and live together in a secret enclave. When we first landed on Earth, I went out with a few others to investigate the planet and its native inhabitants. I ran into a human and learned much from her. She eventually became the first adoptee into my clan. She was the first of many.”

“You treat them as equals? You give them rights within your enclave?” Davin asked quickly.

The Patriarch nodded. “They are valued members of my clan. From interacting with them and observing their emotions, I have learned much. One thing I’ve come to believe is that our race has suffered great harm by erasing emotion from our genetic codes. Although my sect was one of the first to fully embrace the genetic protocols put in place generations ago on Alvia Prime, we are now set on a course of reversing those protocols and perhaps advancing our evolution to the next logical step given our habitation of Earth.”

“The next evolution being?” Rick prompted.

“Combination with humans. A next evolution for both our races resulting in a blended race of beings with a multitude of psychic gifts.”

“Bold words,” Davin commented after a tense silence.

“And an even bolder idea,” Rick said. “There are hard feelings on the human side of the equation after the way your people have treated us. I hope you’ve taken that into consideration.”

“I have, and it’s one of the troubling aspects of our goal, but not insurmountable if your mating is any indication. My sect is strong, but we need allies. I also need to gather more data about the recurrence of resonance mating among Alvians with emotion. I don’t want to advocate mass genetic alteration if it will send a large number of my people into madness and death. That’s why I’ve come to you, Davin. I was hoping you would speak freely with me about the effects of your own mating and the dangers you faced prior to finding your mate.”