Vanquished (9 page)

Vayne cursed again, this time far
louder, as he loped toward the bridge access. Leric would have spoken the old
language—one not easily translated by the universal translator—for good reason,
and he hadn’t used Neira’s name. Called her the sovereign’s chosen. But the
obvious importance of the summons resonated in Leric’s voice. His exec was
facing aft when Vayne burst onto the bridge, and whirled around, nodding in
acknowledgment and respect.

“Sovereign, we’ve been monitoring
as usual, and we didn’t expect anything but picked up a long-range message from
Captain Ristos. It’s not completely clear, but he sends a warning. The
Outriders of the
Astris
made
extraordinary efforts to run him down, and he was nearly apprehended. It
apparently took him some time to locate and secure the emergency pod he
pursued, and it gave them the opportunity to get closer than one might expect.”

“And what does this have to do
with my chosen?” Vayne heard the deadly rage threading through his quiet
question as his instincts kicked in, and so did Leric by the way his eyebrows
shot up.

“The passenger on the pod
provided some information about her, Sovereign, including her last name and
some rumors, perhaps some facts. She was military as you believed, and
discharged, but her superiors appear reluctant to lose sight of her.
At least that is the reasoning suggested by the pirate captain.
The cargo he, ah, liberated, negates such efforts of determined pursuit. It is
easily replaced.”

“Our Captain Ristos is an
intelligent man,” Vayne mused. “I tend to follow his reasoning.
Unless one of the other females is connected in some way that the
Home World would be so tenacious?”

Leric shrugged. “Ristos scanned
the passenger manifest along with the cargo and was able to break the
encryption. I accept responsibility for failing to even think of it.”

“You had good reason, Leric. Your
apology is noted.” Vayne wouldn’t hold the male’s distraction against him,
considering his own.

His exec inclined his head before
continuing. “Your chosen was traveling under a different name, so perhaps that
is why she is the only one with scanty information on her file, and you are
aware how the Home World gathers every attainable piece of data on its
inhabitants. I have begun the process of working through the data
we…obtained…during out stint there.”

Vayne ignored Leric’s reference
to the espionage the Shadalla had carried out on the poorly protected
informational centers of the Home World during the treaty negotiations. The
information had served them well, and continued to stream to Nibiru. It would
take time to access it on the
Tomodr
.
“And does Ristos believe the Outriders will widen the search or have an inkling
of our involvement in the hijacking?”

The
Tomodr
was a fine warship, but they were still a considerable
distance from Nibiru. And there was a large number of Outriders, ideal for both
defense and offense. He mentally chastised himself for taking the slower route
home but had hoped for additional time with Neira, for the holding period to
take place within the confines of the ship. Where she would have fewer
distractions and more reason to allow his attentions.

“He didn’t say. The message is
over a day old, and there’s been nothing since.”

“The captain took a risk to even
send it,” Vayne mused.

“And we may have given the
Outriders a hint we can ill afford, should they track it,” Leric pointed out.
“But it apparently seemed worth the hazard. There is more here than meets the
eye.”

“Take us through the Geer Falls,
with all possible speed,” Vayne instructed without commenting on his exec’s
assessment. “And tell me everything you learned to date about my chosen, before
we make our plans.”

****

Neira was asleep again when he
let himself into his cabin. Already he knew the slight noises she made in
slumber and his hearts ached with tenderness before the surge of protectiveness
pushed him to sit beside her. He’d spent considerable time in the exercise room
after she’d refused him, working his body hard on both the weights and
resistance machines. Not accustomed to being denied—or thwarted—it had taken
all of his control to leave her and adhere to Shadalla customs, rather than
prove to her then and there that they were meant for one another. He had total
faith in his ability to seduce her but forced himself to respect the holding
period. The exercise room still held her
scent,
and
the memory of her supple body under his own as he took her down during their
sparring tended to undermine his efforts.

His pheromones, produced in much
higher quantity for his chosen, were already having an effect on her, despite
her harsh rejection. He suspected she fought another, very different battle,
and he was caught in the fallout of her shored up defenses. She was very well
defended, indeed.

The Shadalla had evolved far past
their ancestors and their hated cousins, features becoming more humanoid as
they left behind many of their animalistic proclivities, and as qualities of
mercy and empathy developed in their race. It made them better fighters and
conquerors, able to form alliances with other worlds instead of grinding them
beneath boot heels, raping and pillaging like the Juxtant. But they were still
predators on the battlefield and when it came to seeking and securing a mate,
hence the holding period. It kept Shadalla males’ beasts in check as they wooed
and made their chosen mate both dependent and thoroughly attached before the
passion was unleashed on them. But by the great gods it was trying his
patience.

To his knowledge, no female
withstood a mate past the thirty days of holding, most conceding in the first
week. Vayne grimaced. Was it fitting that as a royal he would be forced to wait
and prove his restraint as a so-called better man by the nature of his
bloodline? He refused to entertain the thought Neira could withstand him and
he’d lose her. Thirty days counting down.

Peering down at her in the dim lighting,
he studied her features, the usual no-nonsense set of her mouth now relaxed and
sweet above that firm chin. He longed to trace the pert slant of her nose and
along her high cheekbones, nearly hidden by the sweep of long, dark lashes.
Neira Grekov. Russian descent, according to the history files, and had she been
born a few centuries ago, likely the daughter of an influential Russian
aristocrat.
Now a soldier.
Ex-soldier, he reminded
himself.
And perhaps not truly discharged.
Leric had
also suggested she might be a spy, craftily planted aboard the
Astris
, but Vayne now knew differently.
His intuition never failed him, despite his earlier musings.

He hoped to encourage her to grow
her silky hair long, although in truth she would come to deny him nothing in
time. It was the nature of their kind to mate, then for the female to choose
only what her male would prefer, to please with compliance and submission. The
idea was vaguely unpalatable, and he squinted in response,
then
pushed the discomfort away. Events would continue to unfold as they had done
for eons, and not even the sovereign could change that. Females were even more
valuable now, so highly prized, and it was both necessity and tradition to
protect them, hence the manner in which the joining worked. Total submission
and surrender was inevitable.
And you
absorbed Asula until absolutely nothing remained of her and she faded from you.
Perhaps her only, but final, act of defiance.

Vayne stood abruptly and flexed
his shoulders. Asula was different from Neira. Their joining had been
politically optimum despite his lack of interest in her, and the fact was she
wasn’t suitable for someone
so
strong-willed as him.
She would not have faded had she been matched with another, and in truth the
hormonal response to make her his chosen had been intentionally manipulated by
the scientists.
Thinking to fool nature.
He ground his
teeth when he considered how many such matches had turned out, and mentally he
cursed the Home World and its genetic weapon that drove the Shadalla to such
measures. He could identify with Neira’s rage over feeling powerless. Well,
that couldn’t be helped.

She was awake now, responding to
his angst, her breathing light and quick. He told himself it wasn’t only her
training that made her open her eyes, but that she
felt
him, for he could move quieter than a whisper.

“We must talk, little warrior.”

“About?”

How he regretted the caution
coloring her tone. Calling for more light, he waited as the computer adjusted
the settings,
then
retrieved the chair he had sat on
earlier. He debated about releasing Neira but had no way of knowing how she
would react. Thinking it better that he be able to closely examine her
expressions rather than guard against attack, he urged her to sit sideways,
using the slack in the tether to lower her hands to her lap. She blinked at him
before donning that aloof warrior mask, but she didn’t resist when he tucked
the cover around her shoulders.

“I will tell you what I have
learned and ask that you not prevaricate. There are twelve other females on
this ship who assume the same risk. And no, it is not I, not the Shadalla who
threaten.”

The blood drained from her face
and her eyes widened before she gave him one of those nods he expected to
become quite familiar with. Vids he’d viewed of her heritage flashed in his
brain and he suppressed a smile at the thought of her in furs and diamonds,
looking imperiously at her subjects. How he wished this conversation wasn’t
necessary, because he sensed a dreadful outcome.

“You are Neira Grekov, formerly
of the Orion Marines, a sergeant, broken from the rank of captain for reasons I
haven’t yet been able to determine. You were missing in action nearly two years
ago toward the end of the suppression of the Juxtant, in one of the final land
battles on Mars. You were rescued by chance on Zores, returned home and
honorably discharged. There is no record of you leaving the Home World on the
Astris
, but rather a Neira Graheme,
bound for one of the mining planets in the outer quadrant.”

Her face was like stone, amazing
eyes blank but for the dilated pupils, her lips nearly white. Those lips parted
and she clearly forced a response past them. “That is accurate.”

“Except for
what it doesn’t say.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Neira.
Little
warrior.
We are being pursued, or at the very least, hunted.
And not because of some replaceable cargo.”

“You robbed a passenger ship,”
she pointed out, but there was no inflection in her tone. Vayne was reminded
again of a
leicat
, although he
doubted even the feline could hold so steady and immobile in the face of him.

“Don’t dissemble.” He made sure
his voice snapped authoritatively, and she flinched infinitesimally. “Must I
ask why you are being sought?”

“Me?” Her color was a bit better,
a faint flush stroking her cheeks, and her mouth was nearly that rich red
again. “That makes no sense.”

He stared into her eyes, and she
met him glare for glare. So perhaps she didn’t know, the confusion reflected
earlier in the tawny depths replaced with stark truth. His recital of her
dossier had badly upset her, though, and it was something he’d have to explore
later, for he sensed it was the key to her ability to continue to refuse him.

“It might make no sense, but
yours was the only file stored on the
Astris
that lacked information. The rest read like an open book. And there is the
matter of you traveling under a different name.”

She tilted her head and he knew
she was working it through. “I wanted anonymity.
After the
media coverage.
So the captain agreed to modify things a little. I
answered to Neira, and I doubt anyone inquired after my other name. So perhaps
there is someone else they want, hiding in plain sight. The files on the
Astris
are only as complete as the
people who programmed them. And because of my former…profession, it wouldn’t
surprise me that the information was frugal.”

Everything she said made sense
and he wished for it to be true. “Do you know the other women on board?”

“Not well. Vicky.
The other two not at all.
There was another woman.
Toya.”
She stopped speaking and her eyes narrowed.

“Neira?”

“She escaped on a pod. I saw her
go.”

“The pirate ship has her.”

“Then perhaps it’s about her, or
one of the others on board here.”

“What is there about her that
bothers you?”

Shrugging, she obviously
formulated an answer, but he watched her closely. Neira was cudgeling her
memory, not building a lie. “She was in everybody’s business and wanted me to
take an escape pod with her. She was most insistent and then she broke and ran.
It didn’t fit with what I knew of her. But then I’ve lost so many of my skills
I could easily be wrong.”

Reflecting on how she’d held
large men at bay, he doubted it, but she was referring to her assessment
skills, he thought. “She was the one who told the pirate captain about you.”