Vengeance

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real
people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters,
places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.

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Copyright © 2014 by Amy Miles Books, LLC.

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For my family.

Bastien stares up
into the twilight sky, amazed not for the first time by the rings of
color that splash across the vast expanse before him.  They glow
with far more brilliance than any colors he has ever glimpsed back on
Earth.  The colors appear rich in depth, as if they might feel
like velvet if he were to stretch out his hand to touch them.
 Perhaps this mirage is brought on by the mists that cling to
this moon, or perhaps his voluntary exile has finally begun to riddle
his mind.

Two of the other
moons that orbit the planet Calisted hang in the sky before him, each
boasting a vibrant intensity of shifting hues.  He likes this
time of night, when the animals begin to bed down and an eerie
silence falls across the land.

It
is quiet here on the rooftop.  Away from the men.  Away
from the demands of his work.  He doesn’t complain about
his duties.  In fact, he embraces them with more fervor than
most.  The tranquility of this place calls to him and yet, in
the midst of such beauty, Bastien finds himself missing
her.

“Commander
Bastien?” a hushed voice calls from behind, low enough not to
startle him.

Bastien stifles a
groan as he rises from his knees.  His arms feel heavy after a
full day of training.  He has heard several of his men wondering
aloud if their commander trains out of fear of a coming revolt within
Calisted’s new government, but this is not the true reason for
his absolute drive toward excellence.  He has complete faith in
the new leadership.  

No.  He trains
to keep himself from thinking of those he left behind on Calisted
only a few short months ago.

“I
asked not to be disturbed.”  He wipes the beads of sweat
from his brow with a towel and grabs his shirt.  A heavy layer
of lean muscle ripples along his shoulders as the soft black material
falls over his head.  The sweat has failed to dry completely
from his body, though he finished training long ago.  The hair
around his forehead and the nape of his neck is moist, leaving him
feeling in sore need of a cold shower.

“My apologies,
sir,” his second-in-command says.  Bastien likes Callum.
 He is young and eager, though sometimes that eagerness can be a
little annoying, despite Kyan’s assurance that Callum is mature
enough to handle the responsibility.  “There has been a
call from Calisted and your presence is requested.”

Bastien’s
throat constricts as he turns to face the boy.  He is only
little more than a year younger than himself and yet their age
difference seems to be as great as the Riptal ravine less than a
hundred yards from where he stands.  It is a vast, beautiful
chasm filled with lush tropical plants and fruits so large you have
to hold them with two hands.

“From
who?”  He tosses his towel to the side, vowing to come
back and return his training mats when he is finished.  If there
is one thing Bastien prides himself on the most, it is keeping things
neat and orderly.  No good commander can allow disorganization
to slip through his ranks or chaos will ensue.

Callum holds out a
small note, written on a heavy stock of paper.  Bastien can
easily spy the black ink that has stained the fibers.  “Kyan
sent this as well.”

Bastien has known
this moment was coming.  He has feared its arrival for several
months now.  Without opening the letter, he knows why Kyan asked
Callum to be the one to give Bastien the message.  His gait
falters slightly as he glances back toward Calisted.  

He had hoped with
enough distance and time that the ache in his chest would begin to
fade, but deep down he knows that he will never truly be whole
without her by his side.

“Are
you alright, sir?” Callum asks, reaching out to help steady
Bastien, who waves the soldier off.  

“I’m
fine.  Thank you for your concern.”  Bastien’s
words are more clipped than he would have liked, but he can’t
seem to speak without a harsh tone for fear of allowing a tremor to
enter his voice that will betray him fully.  “Please send
a response acknowledging your delivery.”

Callum stares at the
unopened envelope clutched tightly in Bastien’s grip.  The
paper begins to crinkle around his fingers.   “Is
there a problem?” Bastien growls, his patience growing thin.

“Kyan waits
for you now.”

“Let him
wait,” Bastien mutters and turns away.  Callum clicks his
heels, bows low in the usual sign of respect that Bastien has not
fully come to understand or accept, and hurries away.  On Earth,
Bastien had been held in high regard for his time spent training the
soldiers sent to him.  He created an elite force that was feared
by all who opposed them.  After his time on Calisted was done,
and his bargain with Kyan sealed, he had hoped to simply slip in
among the masses and serve as Kyan saw fit.  Unfortunately for
him, Kyan saw fit to keep him as a commander, a position not only
painfully visible but also widely respected.  

Bastien sighs and
pinches the bridge of his nose.  That could have gone better. He
knows that he isn’t handling this situation very well, but it’s
not Callum’s fault.  Running his hands through his hair to
stop them from shaking, he blows out a deep, calming breath.  

His
bare feet slap against the concrete floor as he weaves his way along
the rooftop and descends into the heart of his outpost.  It is
cooler within than it was outside.  The climate here is one of
the first things he struggled to adjust to when Kyan first sent him
to this farthest moon base.  Alenida is always humid, almost to
the point of his clothes feeling saturated the instant he exits the
building.  It is hard to breathe at times; the weight of the
moisture in the air far too oppressive.

The cool air
drifting through the hallway brings sweet relief, and he can feel his
body temperature normalizing once more.  Bastien dips his head
in acknowledgement as he passes two guards and then pushes through a
set of bright red double doors at the end of the hall.  He
strains against their weight, reminded once more of the difference in
gravity here.

Crossing the room,
he gives little thought to the decor as the door hisses closed behind
him and the air locks re-engage.  After living here for three
months he has yet to officially move into his quarters.  He has
zero personal belongings to call his own.  No photos.  No
gifts from his friends.  He didn’t even keep the letter
that Niyah sent to him not long after he was stationed here.  It
has remained unopened, just like the one currently crumpled in his
hand.

He didn’t need
to know what that note said either.  There was nothing Niyah
could say that would ever make him forgive her betrayal.  Her
actions that day at Drakon’s base are simply inexcusable.  To
turn her back on her own men for the sake of mere jealousy is beyond
something that he can comprehend.  Good soldiers died that day.
 He came far too close to death himself.

Lost
in thought, his feet whisper across the plush emerald carpet, a
perfect match for the jungle tones that brighten his room.  A
huge domed window curves against the far wall, giving him an
excellent view of the ravine as night begins to fall.  As he
looks to the horizon he finds himself captivated by the sliver of
light still left, just before Calisted eclipses the sun and darkness
falls across the land.

“I guess I
can’t delay any longer,” he says with a sigh.  Bastien
approaches the opposite side of the room and taps the screen of a
black monitor that rests sunken into the wall.  He waits
impatiently for the connection.  It is usually slowest during
this time of night when the moons and planet are aligned.

It
has been nearly a month since he last spoke with Kyan, and in his
opinion it is too soon.  His pain is still raw.  His
willpower is too fragile to be reminded of anything or anyone close
to
her
,
yet Kyan has insisted on keeping tabs on him.

The image that
appears before him is slightly blurred, no doubt from satellite
disruption with the newly fallen night.  They have been working
to triangulate the signal with higher efficiency, but Bastien hasn’t
really needed that to be at the top of his priority list.  Not
with so many other things to task his time.

“It’s
good to see you, Bastien,” Kyan says the instant the image
jerks and comes into clarity.  His responding nod of agreement
feels forced.  “You got my message, I see.”

“It just
walked through the door.”  His friend’s lips twitch
at the corners but he remains unusually quiet.  That doesn’t
bode well in Bastien’s opinion.  “Is there something
I can do for you, Kyan?”

“You know why
I’m calling…” Kyan pauses.  Bastien’s
adam’s apple bobs as he forces himself to nod, trying to keep a
straight face.  “I’m worried about you.”

“No need,”
he responds with a definitive gruffness to his tone.  Bastien
clears his throat and offers a strained smile in response.  “I’m
fine.”

“Are you?”
 Kyan’s image shifts, his face coming in for a close up as
he leans in and draws a chair beneath him.  When he sinks back
into the chair, Bastien can see the stress lines carved deep into the
skin about his friend’s eyes, trailing across his forehead.  

Bastien tries to
push Kyan’s words off with an indifferent shrug but he knows
it’s no use.  He sinks down onto the edge of his bed,
feeling the soft comforter cushion him.  He spreads his legs to
shoulder width and leans forward on his knees, rubbing his hands
together as he lowers his gaze.  “I will be.  Someday.”

Kyan’s sigh
sounds as if it originates from within Bastien’s room, weighted
and achingly familiar.  “I am truly sorry, my friend.”

This Bastien already
knows.  Kyan has said these exact same words every time they
have spoken and it never gets any easier.  Although he
appreciates his friend’s sincerity, it has become an unwanted
burden.  He would rather forget, to push aside the past and move
on as if it never existed.  It is a good idea...in theory.

“Is there a
purpose for this call or are you just doing your monthly check in?”
 Bastien lifts his gaze, almost hoping that it is the latter.  

Yet again the past
begins to encroach on his thoughts.  His mind drifts toward
Niyah, toward the bond they were meant to share, but he knows that he
could never entertain the thought of a relationship with her, genetic
bonding or not.  Happiness is not an option for him.  He
has accepted this.  Kyan, on the other hand, seems to have not
given up that hope yet.

Kyan glances back
over his shoulder as if he has heard something.  Bastien
realizes with a start that his friend is not dressed in his usual
black uniform but rather in an all-white, crisply pressed suit.  It
looks odd against his paling skin.  Kyan has obviously spent far
too much time in councils and war meetings of late.

This is not all that
Bastien notices.  Upon his breast is a row of medals, not all
unlike what his parents had told him the military generals from Earth
used to wear.  They shine like diamonds as he shifts in the
light.  Bastien’s gaze flits over his friend’s
groomed state and frowns.

“What’s
going on, Kyan?”

His friend pauses,
his head tilted slightly and his hand raised for silence.  When
he turns back, annoyance pinches his handsome features.  “I
am sorry.  I’m being summoned.”

“Summoned for
what?”

Kyan’s eyes
narrow and then glance away.  “Are you not aware of what
day it is?”

Bastien rubs the
back of his neck, instantly reminded of his need for a shower as his
fingers carve through the moist hairs.  He shakes his head.
 “Nah.  The days all sort of roll together for me
now.”

“I thought you
knew.”  His friend sighs and sinks back into his chair.
 He covers his mouth, as if unwilling to speak and then releases
a deep breath.  “Today is the royal wedding.”