Unbound (33 page)

Firuz’s lips thinned, the muscles in the corner of his mouth twitching. But he said nothing, leaving Khodi to answer.

The older grounder cleared his throat. “Forgive the digression. I came to ask you to reconsider. In the past, we were too weak. We wanted to move sooner, to restore your father to his rightful place, but the time was not right. Now we are in a position to act.”

“You want me to believe you spent several years in preparation without even asking me if I’m interested?” She crossed her arms, even more disinclined to agree. A warm wind ruffled her curls, carrying with it the acrid smell of hydraulic fluid and scorched ceramics.

“I promised Nasri-
dai
we would not contact you until we were certain of winning.”

Again, a reference to her mother, this time with the unfamiliar suffix denoting the consort of the
reis
. More court manners. “What?”

Khodi nodded, speaking quickly. “Jamyl Kharym Rashad abdicated to prevent a bloody war that would have left Lomida in shambles, easy prey for pirates and raiders. It would’ve been a disaster. The Dareh had enough supporters who wanted self-determination, so he stepped down. But your noble mother favored our proposal.”

Asrial’s eyes narrowed. If Nasri had felt that way, she’d never said so in Asrial’s hearing. “I’m not my mother. I’ve lived most of my life away from here. Lomida hadn’t had a
reis
during that time. Don’t you think it’s time you gave up that outdated institution? Let the Lomidari decide their own fate.” It would have happened eventually; that was what her father had believed. He’d seen the abandonment of Salima as one of the signs of the estrangement from the
reis
.

“Never in our long history have we not had a
reis
to lead us. Until your father,” Firuz objected, slashing the air with his hand.

She glanced at Romir. “Hardly.” The Parvinese hadn’t had a
reis
; it was a position that had been created after the establishment of Salima. But she wasn’t about to say that. She wasn’t interested in prolonging a pointless debate.

Romir stepped forward, imposing himself between them.

At that, Khodi extended a plaintive hand. “Hear us out,
Sraya
. Rumors are that House Bintanan is in disarray. Something happened yesterday, when you were at the Tower. This improves our chances of success. We have the numbers and the money; now, we have the perfect opportunity. The Lomidari will support you.”

So that’s why no one’s tried to seize the
Castel
?
She hadn’t stopped to look but suspected the muscle hadn’t absorbed all the stunner energy Romir unleashed. If some of that had spilled over to the Bintanan or her heir, the various factions within Dareh would be maneuvering for advantage.

Khodi was right. The Dareh would be divided, weakened. Now would be the perfect time to overthrow them. But still—

“My answer remains the same.”

“Then why did you agree to speak with us a second time?”

She smiled, feeling herself on firmer ground. “I need you to do something.”

 

 

In the end,
the briefing had probably been unnecessary. But she’d done it anyway, wanting to do everything she could to ensure the Dareh couldn’t repackage her “visit” into an expression of support for Dareh. Someone skilled in vid manipulation might be able to extract something that would read as acceptance of Dareh. While an association with Khodi was inevitable since she’d used his connections to invite the so-called reporters, it was better than the alternative.

Romir had objected to Khodi’s initial suggestion of using one of the starport’s function halls. Given how easily Dareh muscle had scooped them up, she couldn’t fault Romir for his stance. The hold of the
Castel
ended up packed with unfamiliar equipment and people, both real and avatars projected in holotubes, the latter looking like substantial ghosts trapped in the clear cylinders.

She’d suffered the invasion in silence. The more there were, the better the likelihood of her message getting out. She could only hope that one of those avatars would give an accurate account.

Her statement should throw a wrench in the drives of the Bintanan. Let the Lomidari decide their future without including her in the equation. That was how her father would have wanted it.

All she wanted to do was free Romir. If only the Dareh would leave her alone.

The universe spasmed
in that familiar, nerve-ruffling, stomach-twisting sensation of falling yet not falling of transit. Asrial landed back inside her skin on the Rim side of the Eskarion Ring, shock harness snugged to her body, the lumps and scars of the old pilot’s seat chafing the usual places.

The
Castel
’s board lay before her, all indication lights showing green. The glory of the Dagaerin Field replaced the dim stars in the Trinami Cluster in the upper left screen. At the sight, some of the tension on her shoulders was off-loaded.

Beside her, Romir sighed, the soft sound resonant with delight. Leaning back in his seat, he stretched, corded muscles flexing and bunching in leisurely distraction.

She shared his relief. Despite her fears, they hadn’t had any trouble lifting off from Lomida nor in the decs since they crossed the Danar and Cyri sectors of the Inner Worlds to the Eskarion constellation. She’d covered the distance in record time, pushing herself to her limits, relying on the autopilot only when Romir insisted she eat and sleep.

Out in the Rim, farther from Dareh influence, she felt more at ease. It might be a false safety, but she was a Rim rat, and if she had territory, it was the Rim. The confrontation with the Bintanan had only served to bring that understanding to the forefront: she might have been born sovreine, but she chose to be a Rim rat.

She quickly guided the
Castel
out of the emergence zone to make way for the ships transiting after her, docking at Eskarion 17 just long enough to resupply. Impatience and uncertainty were constant companions, vying for the forefront of her thoughts. Hope clung as well. The last decs had shown her how life could be with Romir, his quiet care, the contrast in his perspective from hers, his occasional intractability . . . his careful lovemaking.

A dec from Eskarion space, one of the harsh realities of Rim travel raised its head. This deep between the stars and given the variables involved in Jump, a chance encounter with another ship was unlikely, especially since her route didn’t take them to one of the more popular stations.

Yet the nav screen was reporting a trailer bogey at the edge of detection range, one too large for a fast courier and too small and fast for a cargo ship. And there it remained a few hours later—too long for coincidence and her peace of mind. Most ships of that size could have recharged their drive and jumped in that time.

And it was closing the distance.

Asrial left the autopilot in control as she flicked through function lists to refine the take from the
Castel
’s sensors. Her mind raced, weighing the options: trader, freighter . . . pirate?

Her lungs seized, her heart skipping, at the latter.
Spirit of space forfend.

A large hand appeared beside hers, then a fall of black hair, as Romir leaned down to stare at the sensor display. “What is wrong?”

She tapped the ominous bogey on the screen. “That’s what’s wrong. Could be trouble.” Probably
was
trouble. She couldn’t think of any reason a trader or freighter would be on this course. There were no major magnetic rifts or stellar storms to justify a detour. The only systems in this vector were long dead or abandoned or had never developed any sentient life; even the colonies of free miners and solos lay elsewhere.

“It’ll take hours for whatever that is to catch up, but the jump drive also needs hours to recharge. Best to prepare for the worst.” Eager to be about the preparations, Asrial sprang to her feet, adrenaline speeding her motions and infecting the ordinary hums and rumbles of the
Castel
with sinister portent.

The shields had first priority. The generators had to be at 100 percent, and checking those couldn’t be done from the board. They couldn’t afford even minor shield failure.

Romir’s quiet help made the work easier. He could pinpoint system problems and weaknesses faster than her test probes.

Despite the direness of their situation, Asrial found herself smiling. She couldn’t think of anyone else she’d prefer to have by her side when she faced danger. He made suggestions. He didn’t question her decision to fight. He did what he could to support her in her tasks. The perfect partner for her. All she wanted was the chance to see what they could make of a future together.

While she dealt with another unreliable circuit, Romir waited, leaning against a bulkhead, bare-chested as usual, his crossed arms blocking part of that distracting display. “You are a strange woman,” he murmured, a furrow between his slashing brows.

“How so?” she asked, though his comment had been soft enough that she could have pretended not to have heard without being rude. She gave the micro wrench a final tap to make sure the replacement relay was properly seated. The pile of spares on the dolly taunted her. Time was running out, but she had to force herself to go slow. Better to do it right the first time than have something fail because she was rushing too much.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

She ducked her head. “I’d probably be scared witless if I were alone.”

“No, you would not. Scared perhaps, but never witless.” The tenderness in the smile he turned to her made Asrial’s heart skip and stumble, the emotion and its open expression taking her by surprise. Seeing it hardened her determination to fight.

Hours later, she’d completed what repairs she could, which was less than she preferred, constrained as she was by time and supplies. They returned to the piloting chamber to find that the bogey had halved the distance between the ships.

She studied the nav screen and the sensor take a while longer, hoping for a break. Built along the blocky lines typical of Hagnash ships, the bogey wasn’t designed for atmospheric entry. It was larger than the
Castel
, more the size of a freighter, but clearly faster than a freighter to have caught up this quickly.

Still no ident code. The bogey wasn’t broadcasting a call signal. “Unidentified ship, this is the
Castel
. Your approach is in violation of safety protocols.” In deep space, there was no good reason for two ships under power to pass within a quarter of a light-second of each other.

Time stretched out without change. There was no response, and the ship continued to maneuver steadily and smoothly closer. Definitely under control, not autopilot. That ruled out damage, and a legal AI would have had to answer to her comm. Therefore, she had to conclude the bogey was hostile. “Pirates.”

“Can you outrun them?”

“If I could’ve, I’d’ve done it sooner. Using the thrusters will divert power from the jump drive. We need that powered up as soon as possible. The only sure escape is Jumping. They can’t follow us if we Jump.” There were too many factors to make tracking a ship through Jump anything but a game of chance.

The pirates had to have been lying in wait to have found them—though hunting in this area of space didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t a major—or even a minor—shipping route. It offered only slim pickings for pirates. Relic raiders, on the other hand, knew better than to target ships headed deeper into the Rim when holds would be empty—and most of them wouldn’t bother with a ship as small as the
Castel
.

Asrial stared at the steadily dwindling separation between her ship and the bogey, an acrid taste coating the back of her throat. They wouldn’t make it. The pirates would get to strike range before the jump drive was fully charged. She’d sworn she’d never let herself be captured again, but all the
Castel
had were point defense lasers and shields.

Strike range came far sooner than she anticipated. With still an hour to go before the jump drive was fully charged, the bogey fired hypertorps. She swore, channeling her frustration into creative curses.
Frigging crap
didn’t do justice to their situation. Definitely pirates, then. Hypertorps were used to wear down shield capability. No honest trader carried that sort of military hardware.

Her stomach lurched as she activated the lasers. Those would divert more power from the jump drive, but if the shields dropped below 40 percent, the pirates could use a grab net to lock on to the
Castel
—then they could force their way aboard.

A hiss drew her attention to Romir, who had twisted in his seat to face the rear, a cold, baleful light in his eyes. He glared at the bulkhead—no, at something beyond it she couldn’t see. “That ship is the one that tried to steal you.”

She hadn’t gotten a good look at the Cyrian’s ship when Romir rescued her. The
Eikki
had been large enough to require an outside slot, but she didn’t remember any details beyond an imposing darkness that blocked out the stars. But if it was Volsung chasing them, did that mean his objective remained the same: her?

“The client’s paying good credits to get her alive and unharmed.”
The Cyrian’s words had been laser-etched into her memory. A wealthy client to afford the earnest for the bidding and now contraband military hardware. She couldn’t help but make a connection to the Dareh’s recent interest in her. Who else would go to such an extent for a Rim rat?

“You misapprehend your position. We do not need your support, merely your face.”
Ordering her abduction wouldn’t be beyond the Bintanan.

The roiling of her gut worsened. Asrial shook her head. The whys and wherefores had to wait. She had to buy time for the jump drive to finish charging. But if capturing her was the objective, then Volsung would probably—probably—hold off on more forceful maneuvers that could kill her. Surely that gave her an edge, something to work with?