Star Raiders (17 page)

Aside from its geological instability, which didn’t extend to this region, Uta was an idyl ic little world. Its rich volcanic soil adapted easily to off-world crops. It had no particularly dangerous predators and few bugs or microbes harmful to humans. Its odd orbit circled three suns in a way that kept the temperature in this area a consistent seventy degrees Fahrenheit year-round. If Earth or any other Consortium world learned of its existence, they’d fight to claim it. Shy was determined not to let that happen. For the slaves she rescued with nowhere else to go, Uta provided a safe haven, a place to build new lives. It was her son’s home. It was her home. It had been for a long time.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in Uta’s unique fragrance: a blend of the smel s coming from the profusion of plant life, a hint of the ever-present smoke from the distant volcanoes and of the briny sea a few miles away. She’d grown up here, sheltered not only from Earth and the Consortium, but also from the truth about Kedar.

Her earliest memories were of a safe and carefree if somewhat lonely childhood. Every few months Kedar came to stay for a few days. She’d loved him and enjoyed his visits, if the rest of the time she’d spent alone with her caretakers, the loving, childless couple who now watched over Rian in her absence. Though Matha and Tomas never spoke of their past, she knew Kedar had rescued them from slavery. But they stayed with her and now her son because of love, not gratitude. She owed them more than they’d ever owe her or her father. It was almost a perfect life Kedar had created for her here. Too bad it had al been a lie.

“What was a lie?” Greyson asked.

She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud. “Nothing.” The very childhood that had isolated and protected her for eighteen years had also left her easy prey to Greyson’s charm and deceit—and along with the love she’d thought she felt for him, that naive girl had died. She shoved her memories where they belonged, in the past.

“The compound is just a few miles over that rise.” Her old home was located apart from where the other people had settled. She, too, had since moved closer in.

He glanced around and frowned. His reaction made her bristle until she looked closer. Time and neglect had taken their tol . The old homestead was decidedly smal er and shabbier than she remembered.

She opened the door and froze in the doorway. Motes of dust danced and swirled in the sunlight that streamed in from behind them. The overstuffed floral furniture Matha favored stil fil ed the rooms. Prints of badly painted landscapes hung on the wal s. Faded, fril y curtains covered the windows. Memories of the happiness she’d experienced here rushed through and threatened to overwhelm her.

Watching Greyson move around the house’s main room made her edgy, as if by seeing where she’d grown up he could somehow see into her soul, know who she was, find a way to reach her again. She shook away the delusion: Nothing had changed, but nothing of the Shyanne Kedar who’d grown up in this house remained.

After Greyson’s betrayal and learning the truth about Kedar, when she’d come back ten years ago she couldn’t bear to stay in this house. In a storm of tears and rage, she’d torn through it and destroyed everything that reminded her of the lie she’d lived. Toys, clothing, journals, gifts, mementos of her life—al were consigned to the fire. She hadn’t stepped foot inside this house again until now.

While waiting for Rian’s birth, she’d lived aboard the
Independence
; then she’d built a new house—a huge one, one without any painful memories. In the fol owing years, that compound had grown to a community of several thousand people. Though the residents looked to her as a leader, for the most part they governed themselves, since she was gone more than she was around.

“You’l stay here. I’l have supplies brought up for you.” She stayed in the doorway, not moving. Being here weakened her resolve to remain apart and aloof from everyone but Rian. When he was born, she’d tried to cut herself out of his life, too, but had found the ties too strong to sever.

Greyson’s question interrupted her memories. “Don’t want me to meet any of the locals?”

She hesitated before she answered. If they stayed on Uta for more than a few days, it was inevitable he’d come in contact with someone from town. She couldn’t risk having him ask the wrong questions. She’d have to tel him part of the truth and trust him to keep the secrets he learned. “Apart from my crew and a few others, no one here knows I’m Kedar’s daughter or a smuggler.” That was a lie. Everyone but Rian and the other children knew the truth. She’d brought most of the people here. To keep Rian safe, she let him believe they were Matha and Tomas’s daughter and grandson, that she was a legitimate space trader. He believed his father had died before he was born. Life had come ful circle. She coughed to hide her bark of laughter at the irony. She’d created the same lie for her son as Kedar had created for her.

Eventual y she’d have to tel Rian the truth, at least about what she did. The older he became and the larger the colony grew, the more likely someone would slip or he’d overhear something.

Greyson regarded her from where he’d settled in a chair next to the room’s empty hearth. “What do they think you do for a living, the people here?” She shrugged, continuing the lie. “Trading. They have their suspicions, perhaps, but no one asks. They’re just happy to be free.”

“Then I’d bet most of them know exactly who and what you are but don’t care.”

“Maybe,” she al owed, “but it’s best if no one knows who you are. These people mistrust strangers and have little love for Earth or C.O.I.L.”

“Best for who?” he asked.

She ignored that. “The house has been unoccupied for several years, so it’s a bit dusty. If you promise not to interrogate them, I’l have someone come up and clean for you.” Matha could be trusted not to reveal anything about Rian. And she would report if Greyson broke his word. The woman might not agree with al of Shy’s choices, but her loyalty was beyond doubt.

“Cross my heart.” He traced an
X
over his chest.

Shy’s heart stuttered. How many times had he used that phrase and gesture, as they lay, bodies tangled together after sex, in affirmation to her questions about love? Why did he use it now?

She looked into his eyes but could find no answer in that hooded gaze.

Using a forged access pass and authorization, Chalmer Dane went to see Stewart Kedar. Sweat that owed nothing to the heat of the desert prison world dampened Chalmer’s palms. After a lifetime spent safeguarding the rule of law, the laws he now broke could cost him more than credits or his freedom. He had no choice. His son Greyson’s future—Greyson’s
life
—was at stake. And Kedar was the only one who could help.

A churlish guard, clearly unhappy about his posting, led him to Kedar’s open cel , informed him inmate SK-2560-15 would be returning from the day’s last meal in ten minutes, then stomped away. The lax security didn’t surprise Chalmer. A prisoner could easily walk away from this prison compound, but once outside stood no chance of survival in the dry hundred-plus-degree heat. Getting off the planet was impossible. While security on the ground might be lax, the sky above was wel patrol ed. In the planet’s hundred years as a prison compound, not one prisoner had succeeded in escaping alive.

Chalmer looked around the ten-by-ten cel occupied by Kedar for the last ten years. Against one wal , a coarse brown blanket neatly covered the room’s cot. A battered metal sink and commode sat in one corner. A drafting table along with a hard wooden chair occupied the other corner and took up what little open space remained. Though stuffed with books and papers, with sketches of spacecrafts covering almost every inch of wal space, a sense of order pervaded the crowded room.

Chalmer considered the detailed drawings. At Greyson’s urging, over the years Chalmer had helped turn many of Kedar’s designs into reality. The fact that the man created them using only a ruler, pencil, paper and his mind stil amazed him. Not even the highly trained ELF and ASP engineers with al their C.O.I.L.

technology could compete with this man’s bril iant concepts and designs.

“Chalmer Dane. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” came a low, even voice from behind him.

Chalmer turned. Familiar brown eyes met his. This was going to be harder than he’d thought. He’d expected to find a man crushed and withered by incarceration.

He should have known better. The man’s designs were indicative of his zest for life.

The years had done little to change Kedar, Chalmer saw. He stood straight, his back unbowed by imprisonment. A mere sprinkle of gray touched his rich brown hair, unlike Chalmer’s pale blond hair that had turned to silver years ago. At fifty-four Kedar looked young and fit, making Chalmer by comparison feel every one of his own fifty-three years.

“May I sit?”

“Make yourself comfortable. What’s mine is yours.” Unable to detect any sarcasm, Chalmer perched on the edge of the cot and immediately realized his mistake. Kedar sat on the higher chair and loomed over him. Used to being in control, to running a multibil ion-credit company, to commanding thousands of employees, coming to Kedar as a supplicant burned like acid in Chalmer’s gut. But for Greyson he’d do more than ask; he’d beg. The boy meant more to him than pride. Pride had lost him his wife and daughter. No matter what it took, he wouldn’t lose Greyson.

Chalmer cleared his throat and began. “Why did my son come to see you? I want to know what you told him and where he went.” Kedar didn’t answer. He picked up a pencil and began to sketch.

Growing impatient, Chalmer demanded, “What did my son want with you?”

“Your son?” Kedar asked, his voice as cold and empty as space.

Chalmer’s skin went clammy. Questions chased through his mind. What did the man know?
How
did he know?

Kedar stood and dropped his sketch in Chalmer’s lap. With numb fingers Chalmer picked it up. The familiar face of a young boy looked back at him: Greyson.

“You know?” His words faltered. “When did you find out? How?” He’d lost his one bargaining chip.

“Ten years ago, at my daughter’s school.” Kedar took the sketch. The hard lines of his face softened as he studied the drawing. “My wife couldn’t tolerate life with an outlaw. When she ran away, I didn’t stop her. My son deserved a better life.”

“When she died, why didn’t you claim him?” As the woman died in Chalmer’s arms, she’d revealed the truth of Greyson’s parentage and begged him to care for her son. He’d agreed. First, as a way to gain revenge against the man who he believed had caused his daughter’s murder. Later, because he’d come to love the boy as his own.

“I thought he died with her. By the time I realized he hadn’t, you’d already adopted him. Besides, I found it poetic justice that the son of the most wanted man in the galaxy should become the son of the most powerful man on Earth. When Greyson arrested me ten years ago, I could see by his face he didn’t know the truth. Who was I to shatter his world? He carries my blood, but he’s your son.” Chalmer heard the pain and also something he couldn’t identify in Kedar’s voice. “Why did he come to see you?” he asked again.

“During the year between my arrest and trial he came many times. At first he came to interrogate me, seeking information about my business activities and associates. But even after he realized I’d give him nothing, he continued to visit.

We became friends of a sort.”

Chalmer could appreciate why Greyson was drawn to this man. Stewart Kedar projected an enticing air of command. Even incarcerated as he was, his presence seemed to promise wel -being, protection and integrity. “Why did he come this time?”

“He wanted to know where to find my”—he hesitated a moment—“daughter.”

“What did you tel him? Did you send him on a suicide mission?”

“I
sent
him nowhere. With or without my help, he’d have gone. Our son is his own man. He doesn’t wait for permission to do what is right. He knows Shyanne is not the one Earth’s forces should be hunting.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I know my”—again the pause—“daughter. Murder, slave-trading and piracy are not in her nature. Greyson knows that as wel .” Ten years ago, when the girl escaped, Chalmer had noticed Greyson’s interest in her, an interest that couldn’t be al owed to develop, considering their biological connection. It baffled him that Kedar seemed unconcerned. And there was also the fact that: “The evidence against her is damning.”

“We both know evidence can be misleading.” Kedar locked gazes with Chalmer.

Remorse made Chalmer look away first. His belief in Kedar’s responsibility for the attack that kil ed his daughter as wel as Greyson’s mother had been part of what drove Greyson to join ASP. “Greyson told you what’s happening? What’s at stake?”

“Yes.”

“Fujerking stars! The entire ELF fleet has been unable to stop this pirate. Now Greyson’s out there on an impossible quest, without authorization, without backup, without hope. Alone.”

“He’s not alone. Shyanne is with him.”

“That’s part of what I’m afraid of,” Chalmer muttered.

Kedar’s laughter boomed through the cel .

“Are you mad?” Chalmer eyed the man with distaste. “Aside from the fact that if you’re wrong about your daughter Greyson is throwing away not only his career but possibly his life, he and Shyanne can’t be together. They’re brother and sister!” Kedar abruptly sobered. “Calm yourself, Chalmer. There’s something you need to know about Shyanne.”

Chapter Twelve

Shy sat in the shade of the porch, sipping the cool lemonade Matha brought out on a tray. The warmth of the day was draining her of ambition and energy. The house sat on the far side of town, just off the main road. Trees shaded the building from the sun. Flowers and Matha’s herb garden, along with the fields of ripening wheat, perfumed the air.

She wondered what it would be like to stay here always, not to roam the dark depths of space, always looking over her shoulder, never knowing where the next attack would come from; to live free and safe. Then she laughed at her musings.