Hathor Legacy: Burn

Hathor Legacy:
Burn

Book Two of the Hathor Legacy Series

Deborah A Bailey

Bright Street Books

PISCATAWAY
, NJ

Copyright © 2014 by Deborah A Bailey.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the website below.

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, NJ 

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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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Hathor Legacy: Burn/ Deborah A Bailey. -- 1st ed.

ISBN
978-0-9842926-7-7

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Kat Duncan
for editing and feedback.

Special thanks to
my mom, Ruth Bailey for your support.

"
Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell."

―Joan Crawford

1
The Spark

Nova City, Hathor

Walking through the remains of the house, Nadira kicked a charred shoe out the way. After the investigation was over, it would be dropped into the recycler with everything else. She picked up the shoe and ge
ntly set it down.

None of the safety protocols had been followed here, and the people trapped inside never had much of a chance. Panicked, some of the inhabitants had crowded the exits, which blocked the others from escaping.

It was rare that a Guardian would be called to investigate a fire in Nova City. But from an early age she'd been trained to do her duty by using her psychic and telekinetic abilities in service to the company that ran Hathor. Which is why she'd put aside her apprehension and answered the request for assistance.

She walked through a narrow corridor into a burnt-out shell of a bedroom, whisking soot off the sleeve of her company-issued grey suit jacket. A foul smell lingered in the air and turned her stomach. Only sticks were left where a bed once sat. All the other furniture had been destroyed. She noticed that there was no wi
ndow in the room, no other opening except a skylight high up in the ceiling, too far to reach.

Closing her eyes, she opened her awareness and waited for i
mages to form in her mind. Her abilities would help her to see what had happened to the victims prior to their death. Even now their energy hung here, heavy and overpowering. Filled with terror and pain, their emotions lingered long after their physical bodies had been incinerated.

Nadira drew in a deep breath, steadying herself as she felt the agony of the man who'd lived in this room. He'd gasped for breath, crawling along the floor desperate for a way out. There hadn't been one, and he'd died right where she was standing. Swallowing the excess saliva that filled her mouth, she headed back out into what was left of the living area of the house.

Lt. Tamara Lin, the security chief in charge of the investigation, was waiting by the front door. Her short black hair was styled in the no-nonsense, cropped cut that most security officers favored, trimmed on the sides and longer on top. Instead of being bulked-up like a lot of the officers, she was slender and petite. She'd rolled up the sleeves of her heavy, dark grey, one-piece uniform and tucked her gloves into a side pocket.

The lieutenant shoved her shiny black helmet under her arm as Nadira approached. "Were you able to sense anything from…what did you call them? The energy trails?" she asked. "Any clues on who did this?"

"I couldn't pick up anything about who started the fire. Just panic and fear…that's all that's left."

"But they're dead. You can still read their thoughts?"

"Only what they've left behind." Nadira breathed deeply, figh
ting to keep down the bile that bubbled up into her throat. Opening herself to the energy hanging in this place wasn't just foolish, it was potentially destructive. Taking in too much of it could completely overwhelm her.

"Damn. I was hoping you could help us. If word gets out that this was arson, it will cause panic all over the city."

"How can you be sure it was deliberate?" Nadira asked.

"Locked doors and disabled safety protocols. Fire patterns su
ggest an accelerant was used. The fire engineers can be more explicit once they're finished," Lin replied.

"And no survivors."

"We found seven bodies before you arrived. But considering the intensity of the fire, it's possible there will be other remains discovered once they start clearing the debris."

"Of course." Nadira held up her hand, indicating that she'd heard enough. The officer was getting upset, her pent-up frustr
ation penetrating her trained veneer.

"Lt. Lin!" Another officer called as he ran up the front stairs and entered the house. "I checked the company Service House lis
ting. This house isn't registered." He lifted his helmet visor. "I can't find any record of the people who lived here either. We won't be able to ID them."

"Yes, we will, Tragg. They'll check the remains against the DNA database. Could you tell the fire engineers we're almost done here? I know they're waiting to get back in."

"Yes, Lieutenant," he replied, as he headed back outside.

"Service House? I thought this was a private residence," Nadira remarked.

"Look, maybe contacting the Guardian Affairs Office was a bad idea, but I hoped someone with psychic abilities could give us some leads." Lt. Lin looked down at her helmet. "These houses are for people like you. I mean, they have psychic abilities like you do. But they're not strong enough to be Guardians. So they're taken into Service."

"Lieutenant, you're mistaken. If trainees aren't strong enough, they're returned to their families."

"These people aren't Guardian trainees. They're just…your people call them,
Deshtu
. I'm not sure what that means."

Deshtu was from the old language, from back when the first settlers arrived on Hathor from Earth. Roughly translated, it meant, unraveled or undone. She'd never heard it used to describe a pe
rson.

"Lt. Lin, tell me more about these Service Houses. How many of them are there in Nova City and where to they get the people from?"

Before the Lieutenant could answer, a man strode into the room, his heavy footsteps tramping across the stone floor. "What is going on here? Nadira, why are you here?"

It was Brant, the Sentry Leader. He was dressed in the co
mpany standard dark grey suit, only his jacket was a size smaller than he needed. The fabric was woven with gold threads mixed in with the grey, showing that he most definitely had more access to credits than most of the company workers. The finely made shirt under his jacket came to a "V" in front, which unfortunately did not flatter his very thick neck.

"Lt. Lin, why didn't you call me first?" he huffed as he ner
vously rubbed his bald head. "I didn't know a Guardian was on the scene until I saw it on a news alert."

"I'm sorry, Sentry Leader. But I contacted the GAO and r
equested their assistance," Lin replied. "They asked Guardian Sentry Nadira to help us."

"Lieutenant, you've violated protocols. All requests from co
mpany security should come through my office first."

Nadira refused to look at him, which probably inflamed him further. Brant was a typical company bureaucrat. Now that he was here, nothing would be accomplished.

"Sentry Leader, you must realize how important it is that we find the people who did this. I don't need to remind you that the company executives will not be pleased if we don't."

"No, you don't have to remind me of that, Lieutenant. But I can't believe this is arson, not here in the center of the city." Brant undid the closures on his jacket. "It's extremely hot in here."

"I would guess so, seeing how they just had a fire," Nadira said, not hiding her disdain.

"Nadira, wait for me outside. I'll deal with this," he huffed, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

The Sentry Leader wasn't exactly in the best shape, and he'd probably rushed over from the administration building. His putty-colored skin was flushed and he was wheezing.

"Who are the Deshtu?" she asked.

Instead of replying, he turned his back to her and started talking to Lt. Lin.

It was so tempting just to hit him with a small blast of energy. Just enough to make him feel like he'd been jolted by a stunner. It was, of course, completely against the rules to do such a thing to another Guardian.

Good thing she'd learned discipline at an early age. As a Sentry she was one of the most powerful Guardians on the planet. But right now she wasn't feeling powerful at all. Instead she felt like a child who'd been dismissed by an overbearing parent. For now, she had to let him think that he was in charge of her actions.

A half hour later, Brant came back outside and joined Nadira where she'd been standing by the curb. Not only was his face flushed, but when he got closer she saw tears on his cheeks.

"You felt it, didn't you?" she asked, resisting the urge to taunt him. "You felt what happened to the people trapped in there as they were dying."

He nodded, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "The company managers will want a report. I still don't accept it was arson. Who would want to kill these people?"

"There were seven, possibly more," Nadira replied. "What will we do about it?"

Sighing, he fastened his jacket, his thick fingers stumbling over the closures. "Security will continue their investigation. But you will not work with them. Before I left the Administration building, I got another call. Elder Dakar wants to meet with you tomorrow afternoon."

"Me?" She hadn't had a private meeting with the head of the Guardian Elders in sixteen years. In fact, not since she'd been presented to the Elders when she'd been twelve. "What does he want?"

"He didn't share that with me."

"Brant, you didn't answer me before. Who are the Deshtu?" she asked. "Lt. Lin said they were like the Guardians."

"They're not like us, Nadira," he said, his attention on the sec
urity officers who were filing out of the building. "And we cannot help them."

*****

Jonathan looked out over the expanse of Nova City from the sixtieth level of the Nova Entertainments building. The entire wall was clear, giving him an unrestricted view of the city from the Entertainments District to the wealthiest area in the entire city, the Palatine.  The jewel-toned towers and spires sparkled in the noonday sun, making it look like the entire cityscape was carved out of precious gems.

It was so different than the Port City on his home planet, A
starte, just about four days away by shuttle, but a world away in appearance. Back home, the city streets would more likely be filled with miners on R&R than high-level company executives.

Jonathan's father, Brandon, was CEO of the mine on Astarte's moon, and that did afford Jonathan certain privileges. But even his life on his home planet looked small compared to the opportunities he had here on Hathor.

Just four months ago he'd been living there, managing his club in the city and catering to the upper levels of society--in addition to some of the shadier elements. But after a series of events that he never could have predicted, he was starting a new life here and, of all things, was in love with a Guardian.

"Mr. Keel." A man a bit shorter than Jonathan entered the o
ffice, his hand outstretched. "May I address you as Jonathan? We're very informal here. I'm Ron Davol." Jon couldn't help but notice how bushy his eyebrows were, though his hair was cut very short. He had more hair on his brows than on his head.

"Certainly, Ron." Jon gave him the standard company greeting, though Ron's handshake felt less robust than he'd expected. But though he was almost Jon's height, he was less muscular--closer to abnormally thin than anything else. In fact, he had the same sallow complexion as workers who'd spent too many years in the mines. Doubtful that Davol had ever been within kilometers of a cavern, though. Maybe he'd been ill.

"Great view, isn't it?" He patted Jon on the back. "When I got this promotion, I couldn't believe it. No one in the family has been this high up in the company, you know. Not even my sister. She'll be joining us."

"She works with you?" Jon asked, following Ron over to a couch and chairs on the other side of the room.

"No, but she wanted to be here for our meeting. She works with the other events, the concerts, retail shops." Ron sat down in a large, plush, charcoal colored chair with a high back that overpowered his slight build. "My family has a lot of influence with the company. But no doubt you've heard that."

"I've heard a lot about your sister." Jonathan said, settling hi
mself in the chair opposite. It wasn't quite as plush looking and the back was lower. He was sure that the resemblance of Ron's chair to a throne was not accidental. "She's had a very successful career with Novacorp."

"Well, she did until I got promoted." Ron busied himself with pulling nonexistent lint off his pants.  "But my family is very prominent here."

"So you've told me. Look, Ron, can we get down to it? I'm interested in that new plaza you're building on the edge of the Palatine. I'm thinking of opening a club there."

"Private? Or can anyone get in?" Ron crossed his legs, showing off his very expensive boots. "I mean to say, you're not going to open it up to miners and people like that, are you?"

Jonathan kept himself from responding until he could think of something that didn't include expletives. "What's wrong with mining?"

"Oh--well--I understand your father is CEO of the mine over on Astarte--but--you know what I mean. Miners are not the same as Novacorp people who happen to work at mines. There's a di
fference," Ron said, his very bushy eyebrows arching over his watery blue eyes.

"I understand what you mean, Ron. My club here will be in the Entertainments District and I want to get all the trade that comes through."