The Warlord's Daughter (7 page)

“I for one am glad you had no night life. You might have found a man long ago and I never would have had the chance to be with you.”

“That’s too sad to think about.”

“I know.”

“So let’s not.”

In the next instant he was using the stylus furiously, filling in the sketch he’d made, drawing a border around them then scratching it out. Then he stopped, throwing down the stylus to rub his temples. “It’s something from my life before. I’m sure of it.”

“Something bad?”

He shook his head. “Something I’m supposed to know.”

“A wife and three children.” Her finger tapped each point of light in turn. “One, two, three…and mama and papa. See? And those are their names.”

“In runes?”

“Who knows? Maybe you had a family.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t know that.”

“We’ve been through this, Hadley. I was a wraith. Wraiths are married to their work.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, tenderly. “I told you not to worry about that stuff.”

Yet a familiar unease tugged at her, and that jealousy she couldn’t help. After the first seizure when he’d thought his memories were returning, he told her he wasn’t married. Despite what he insisted, there was no guarantee Bolivarr was single. True, there was no marriage tattoo, a Drakken custom, but his body art told only part of a story that his mind had no way of validating. “All I’m saying is that you can’t be sure.”

“I’m sure about you, love.” His hand slipped deeper into her hair, loosening it from her regulation, battle-bridge chignon as his soft mouth brushed over hers. “Sure that I can’t wait to make love with you again.”

She sighed, melting, awash in tingles. Smiling against
her lips, he pulled her into a full-on kiss despite the threat of a medic walking in on them at any moment.

The kiss was so delicious that her ears rang. It took a few seconds to realize only one ear was ringing, and only because her PCD was chiming in it.

“Keyren,” she answered crisply as Bolivarr’s thumb traced distracting circles on the inside of her wrist.

“I hear congratulations are in order, Captain.”

The deep and familiar voice set her heart to kicking even harder.
Zaafran,
she mouthed to Bolivarr, who dropped her hand at the mention of the famous name. She shot straight up. “Prime-Admiral Zaafran. Thank you, sir.”

Zaafran was the highest-ranking naval officer in the Coalition—and now the Triad Alliance. He was a peer of Admiral Brit Bandar’s, the Coalition’s most beloved war hero and Hadley’s personal hero. She remembered the emergency drills, growing up on Talo. Then one day the drill was real. They were under attack. The entire squadron of Hordish ships was destroyed by a single warship under the command of Admiral Bandar when she was still only Star-Commander Bandar. The admiral saved Hadley’s planet. From then on, Hadley was determined to model her life after the admiral’s. She became the first female from folksy, clannish Planet Talo to win an appointment to the Royal Galactic Military Academy, and the youngest graduate to be selected as Admiral Bandar’s executive officer. The miracle of Hadley’s existence was having had the honor of serving in a capacity to make her hero’s life easier. Although it had always been her dream to someday rise up through the ranks and captain a ship of her own, she’d learned so much from
watching in her day-to-day routine as Admiral Bandar’s assistant. That Zaafran, a contemporary of Bandar, would take the time to congratulate her, a mere newbie captain, left her in shock. She couldn’t imagine that her passing the check ride would be such news. Unless he, too, was surprised.
Talo girl makes good.

Hadley beamed and almost missed the prime-admiral’s request. “I have some work for you, Captain,” he said. He sounded weary, stressed.

“Of course, sir.” She deflated slightly. Likely all he needed from her was to escort another group on a bridge tour of the
Unity.
No matter that she was awaiting reassignment; she was still in demand in her former role. That meant getting stuck escorting VIPs and the press, both virtual and real, around the huge ship, the first of its kind combining all three sides of the Triad.

“Report to my office for your briefing.”

“Yes, sir. Um, any word on when the
Cloud Shadow
will be released from the shipyard, sir?” She could feel him smile at her impatience, but, hells, she couldn’t wait to take command of her first ship.

“That is in fact one of the reasons I would like to see you.”

“It is? I mean, it is,
sir?
”

“
One
of the reasons, Captain Keyren.”

She blushed.
Shut up, Hadley.
“Yes, sir. Understand, sir. On my way, sir.” She ended the call and spun back to Bolivarr. “The prime-admiral wants to see me in his office. Little ol’ me.”

“Little ol’
Captain
you,” he reminded her.

She grinned. “This is the Ring, Bolivarr. The central command headquarters of the largest military in the
galaxy. As much as I’d love to get a big head over making rank, around here captains are as common as a queen’s penny-credit.”

She combed his hair off his forehead, but the glossy black locks flopped forward as they always did. He’d go back to his drawing the moment she left, she knew. Why had he dreamed of the circles? Or, rather, remembered them? Maybe it was the first crack before the wall inside his head crashed down. She loved him. She wanted him to be healed. Why then did a feeling of dread accompany his discovery?

She transformed her worry with a bright smile and pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you later.”

She scurried down the corridor, fixing her hair as she went. Two lift rides, several long, curving corridors, and a retina scan later, she was being escorted into Zaafran’s suite of offices. His lair was abuzz with military personnel of all ranks. It was the heart of the Ring. He waited for her in a quieter, more private section with a dizzying view of the outer ring and the ice planet below.

In the seconds before his aide called out her presence, she glimpsed a mature, fit man concentrating on a data-pad. The glow illuminated deeply etched worry lines between his brows. His usually immaculate uniform was ever so slightly wrinkled, as if he’d been in it for days. She imagined the days and long nights that he did indeed sleep in his uniform, if he did sleep at all, when it seemed the Hordish tide would sweep over their worlds.

“Prime-Admiral, Captain Keyren has arrived,” the aide announced, saluting and backing away.

Captain, she thought.
It sounds wonderful.

The prime-admiral’s expression eased instantly.
Worry lines became smile lines that bracketed his mouth. He strode toward her, his blue eyes shining. She snapped to attention and saluted.

His PCD began to beep at the same time several datapads on his desk demanded attention with a variety of chimes. He slapped his PCD with impatient fingers. “Joss, hold all calls.” Frustration roughened his voice. “Unless, Star-Major, it’s to tell me we’ve got him. I don’t care which one—either Mawndarr will do.”

She studied him as unobtrusively as she could, trying to figure out, without actually appearing baffled, the source of the normally unruffled officer’s distraction. Apparently it wasn’t her or something she had done—this time—thank the goddess. She’d stuck her neck out before. She was doubly determined to toe the line and stay within the lines. No one trusted rogue officers. It was a career-ending reputation, for sure. Hadley wanted her career more than anything.

He exhaled and turned back to her. “A convicted battlelord is on the run. You’ll hear who soon enough—Karbon Mawndarr.”

“I’m aware of the name, sir. Admiral Bandar mentioned him now and again.” Usually in between swearwords and vows to “see the monster strung up and castrated.”

“During transport to his war crimes trial, he escaped. Obviously he had help—from the inside. It’s a humiliating blow for us, and a boost in credibility for the loyalists.” He folded his arms over his chest to sit on the edge of his desk. “Now I’ve lost contact with the man who helped us capture him.” A pained look shadowed his eyes. “His son.”

“You think he betrayed you and helped the battlelord get free, sir?”

“He has the brains and the knowledge. Blast it all, I never thought he would betray me. I trusted him.”

“And if he didn’t, sir?”

“Then he’s a target. I’ve issued a galaxy-wide warrant for his arrest. I had to think long and hard about it and decided it was for the best. If the son wasn’t involved, arresting him will keep him alive. Mawndarr will know who sold him out. He’s too clever not to. Blast it, I don’t want him walking free. If anyone has the power and cunning to start up a resistance movement, it’s him.”

“Resistance to what, sir—peace? The Drakken aren’t being treated as a defeated nation. They’re sharing in the Triad.”

“The loyalists would see to the rebirth of the Drakken Empire. With the warlord’s daughter out there somewhere, and now this monster, possibly aided by his son, they very well could.”

And ignite a thousand more years of bloodshed and oppression? “There are billions of believers who won’t let that happen, sir.”

“Nor will I allow that to happen.” He made a fist, rotating it with restrained anger in his palm. Then he seemed to transform, his expression brightening once more. “But that is not why you’re here, Captain. The reason is one of new beginnings. Hope. Congratulations, Captain. Not only have you passed captain’s school with an outstanding ride, you’re about to head out on your new ship the very same week.”

“Yes, sir! I am honored, sir. And blasted excited,” she
blurted out next, clamping her teeth together to keep from spewing any more inappropriate expressions of emotion.

The edges of her superior’s mouth twitched, his eyes twinkling. He hadn’t disapproved and seemed to somehow find her excitement amusing. “Now, I’d like you to keep that trademark enthusiasm of yours channeled into this mission, even if it’s not what you expected.”

That meant she wouldn’t like it. She’d been in the military since she was a teenage cadet. She knew all about making flarg smell sweet. “Yes, sir.”

“An ancient artifact has come into our possession. An urn. We found it behind enemy lines, lost to us for millennia. It dates back from before the Great Schism, perhaps touched by the hands of the goddesses themselves.”

His description raised bumps on her flesh. So little predating the war had survived. The few items left were preserved in temples or the palace, cared for by priestesses, and loaned to various museums for public viewings during special times of the year. Since the war ended, news had come of the Drakken rich and powerful hoarding many more such artifacts, plundered and otherwise, on display in personal residences and ships, and others used dismissively as decorative objects or stepping stones in gardens.

“I’m sending you off to explore its origin. We’ve run an exhaustive analysis of the relic. Priestesses translated the runes. They reveal coordinates to a planet previously uncharted, deep inside Hordish space. We anticipate that the site will be of enormous religious significance. At the very least, it promises to provide a wealth of information from the days preceding the Great Schism, the very birth of our society. A high-priestess will serve as your advisor and an archeologist as your first officer.”

She did her best not to blurt out her dismay. An archaeologist first officer? She’d have hoped her second in command would be a qualified bridge officer, not a scientist. This was an expedition, not a mission. Zaafran didn’t expect her ship to be anywhere near any kind of action, even with an infamous battlelord and the warlord’s daughter on the lam and threatening peace.

“It will be an ideal first interstellar experience for space cadets from the academy,” he went on, “as well as a first mission for a new captain.”

Her thrill at taking command fizzled a little more. Since when did captain duties include chaperoning a bunch of teenagers? This wasn’t even an expedition—it was a school field trip. She bit her tongue so as not to voice the thought. The really exciting, most thrilling missions were a thing of the past. She might as well get used to a peacetime military like Brit Bandar and the others had gotten used to.

Actually, Admiral Bandar had more or less retired into a position as commandant of the RGMA. For now at least, married, and pregnant and sitting at a desk was her escape from this fate, Hadley realized. She, on the other hand, was about to launch her career. Doing what? Patrolling for common space thugs and babysitting cadets? Not that she didn’t want the end of war—she’d fought for it and had seen friends die for it—but did peace have to be so blasted
boring?
How would she ever make admiral—an admiral worthy of respect—at this rate? It was her life’s dream and she wouldn’t let it go—not yet.

The prime-admiral’s silvery hair and piercing blue eyes glowed in the muted light as he laid a large datapad on the
table. He activated the holovis feature. “Display map.” Five lights appeared in front of them, three-dimensional and glowing as they floated in midair. They formed the general shape of two sides coming to a point.

Goddess! She grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself. It was very nearly the same pattern Bolivarr had sketched: five dots arranged in a pointed shape. “And runes,” she murmured. Some that Bolivarr had scribbled, as well.

“It’s Sakkaran.”

“The ancient tongue of the goddesses. I’ve heard of it but haven’t ever seen it.”

“We have so little examples left. Only a few of our highest ranking priestesses know how to read and write it. There’s no more use for it, really, but they keep it alive for the sake of history. The Agran Sakkara was originally written entirely in runes, all four volumes. Many believe that the original volume, the fifth, wherein the origin of the goddesses is revealed, still exists, somewhere on one of the ancient worlds, behind what was once enemy lines.”

“Do you mean the lost scripture, sir?”

“Yes. The revelation of
everything.
”