“Only one in three nursery rhymes were nonsensical? Those numbers seem low.”
“I’m certain a lot of the old nursery rhymes that came over from Old Earth are only nonsensical to us because we don’t know the context. These seem truly silly, with one mentioning old names for the constellations suitable for racing around on a dragon’s back. We immediately thought the lines might be directions.”
“We or you?” Alisa asked.
Leonidas hesitated. “I’m the one who analyzed the rhyme.”
“You’re not the brains behind this operation, are you?”
“Only when it comes to math. Dominguez’s pre-medical degree was in biology. Appropriate for a future surgeon, but he admitted he chose it because it involved less math than the other sciences.”
“Well, your math-loving brain came up with coordinates that are in the middle of nowhere.” She pointed at the holodisplay that now floated above the desk next to his, the image that had come up when she plugged in the coordinates.
“I know, but we can go take a look. The doctor suggested I apply force on you if you resist my suggestion.” He smiled faintly, and she had little fear that he would follow through with that.
“The doctor can sit on his balls and bounce on them,” she said. “Leonidas, there’s nothing to take a look at. Not even an asteroid. According to my computer, your coordinates are halfway between nothing and nothing.”
“Then it shouldn’t take long to look at them.”
“To detour to them on the way to Cleon Moon would add an extra four days to our flight plan.”
“I could tell Dominguez that you’re only willing to go if he buys you chocolate. And a new mattress.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my mattress.” She scowled at him while avoiding the temptation to ask how much chocolate they were talking about. “Besides, don’t you think I need combat armor before I shop for bedding and munchies?”
“You do need combat armor.” Leonidas leaned his hip against her desk and scratched his jaw. “It’s expensive, though, and I don’t know how much money the doctor has to spend on this mission. There’s nobody back home refilling our coffers. That’s a certainty.”
“What happened to your mission? The one that required you to drag my ship to the T-Belt before you ever met the doctor or his orb?”
Leonidas lowered his hand, his blue eyes growing wistful. “It is… not a priority.”
“Because it’s personal, and you think it’s more important to put a super weapon into the hands of a ten-year-old boy?”
His brow creased.
“After you stormed inside, I got some intel from Abelardus,” Alisa said.
“I did not storm. I strode.”
“Stormily. By the way, I’ve already had a talk with Beck, but you might want to have another one with him, preferably not the kind where you bend all of his weapons in half. I’d prefer not to have treachery going on among my crew and passengers. It’s bad enough that we now have a Starseer onboard.”
“I will speak with Beck.”
Alisa waited to see if he would discuss his plans for the orb, the staff, and the prince, but he merely gazed down at his feet. He was wearing faded running shoes. They did not look that fascinating to her.
“I would like a chance to resume my mission, as you call it, someday soon,” he said quietly.
“Does it involve ancient artifacts or super weapons?”
“No.”
“Then I’d much prefer to help you with it than I would to help the doctor or the Starseer. You know the odds are against Abelardus having the same goal as the two of you, right?”
“I’m aware. I don’t trust him. You may wish to be wary about the information he gives you as well.”
Oh, she would be. And if Abelardus got in contact with Durant through her ship’s comm system, she would not feel remotely bad about recording that message for her own perusal.
“I’m wary about everything these days,” she said. “Even, thanks to you, my mattress.”
“I apologize for that.” He smiled at her, the sadness of the expression making her think mattresses were not the primary thing on his mind. “In addition to bringing you the coordinates, I came to thank you.”
“You’re welcome. For what?”
“For facilitating my escape from the Alliance by attacking that doctor.”
“Somehow, I doubt you needed my help. And I don’t feel all that magnificent about knocking out an old man who’d forgotten all of his military combat training.”
“He wasn’t that old. And he was aiming more tyranoadhuc at me.”
Still holding her gaze, Leonidas lowered himself to one knee beside the desk. Since Alisa was seated, it put them closer to eye level. And not that far apart. What did he have in mind? Her heart rate sped up at the thought that it might involve lips. Both of their lips. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking of romance or even flirting with him, but her body sometimes overruled her brain when it came to propriety.
She leaned her elbow on the desk, stealing some of the inches between them. He also leaned forward. His fingers brushed her knee as he reached under the desk. A knee had to be the least erogenous zone on a human being, but the light touch made her body flare with heat. She would regret sleeping with him, and feel it a betrayal to her late husband, but she knew right then that she would do it if she got the chance.
“Leonidas?” she whispered.
“Yes?”
A few faint thumps and scuffs sounded under the desk, and she looked down.
“What are you doing?”
He leaned back, pulling out a flat metal sticker. “I believe I’ve located your tracking device.”
“Oh.” Alisa doubted she had ever uttered the syllable with more disappointment.
Yet, when he leaned back and stood up, her body stopped tingling in anticipation, and rational thinking found its way back into her mind. Too soon. It was too soon to think about sex with other men. And he still wasn’t her type. Too damned many muscles.
“Khazan must have stuck it under there when we talked. When she was so kindly warning me that I might be in danger.” Alisa sneered. “Some days, I almost miss the war. At least then, I knew who my enemies were and who my allies—my friends—were.” She looked up at Leonidas. These days, she saw the man instead of the cyborg, but she hadn’t forgotten what he was—who he had been. “I guess you know all about that, huh?”
He was returning her regard, his eyes still holding a touch of sadness.
“Yes,” he said, and lifted his hand, brushing her cheek with his knuckles.
Three suns, what did that mean? Did he care about her, after all? No, she knew he cared, but did it mean he more than cared? That he did have romantic feelings toward her, but that he was avoiding acting upon them for some reason?
He lowered his arm, and she wished she had let herself appreciate the gesture, and maybe even reached up to hold his hand, instead of overanalyzing it.
“Leonidas,” she said, “do you—”
Footsteps sounded in the corridor, and Alisa broke off. He held her gaze for a moment longer, then turned toward the hatch as Yumi and Mica stepped into view.
“Hello,” Mica said brightly, waving. “Are we interrupting anything?”
Yes, Alisa thought. “No,” she said.
Leonidas folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the desk.
Mica looked back and forth from Alisa to Leonidas, and Alisa fought down a blush. Mica had figured out sooner than she had that she had feelings for their cyborg passenger. But it wasn’t as if they had been caught kissing. She had nothing to defend. Even if they had been kissing, she would have nothing she had to defend. Except that she had started to care very much about a man who was her enemy, an enemy who apparently wanted to find a super weapon for the young emperor and facilitate the empire reconquering the entire system.
Alisa massaged her temple. When had her life grown so complicated?
“We’ve looke
d everywhere,” Mica said. “We couldn’t find the tracking device.”
“That’s because Leonidas just found it,” Alisa said.
Leonidas held up the slender disk.
“You could have told us,” Mica said.
“What are you going to do with it?” Yumi asked.
Leonidas held it between his fingers and squeezed, crushing the device.
“I’d been thinking of sticking it on the next ship we crossed paths with,” Alisa said, “so the Alliance would hare off on a wild glow worm hunt, but I suppose utterly destroying it works too.”
Leonidas ground it between his fingers, as if they were a mortar and pestle, then tossed the mangled pieces on the desk.
“Thanks,” Alisa said, “I’ll make a note for the cleaning service to handle that.”
“The cleaning service?” Yumi asked. “Is that Beck?”
“He’s chef and security.”
“Right now, he’s not being either,” Mica said. “He’s hanging his head and feeling guilty after trying to help betray your cyborg.”
“Your cyborg?” Leonidas asked mildly, arching an eyebrow at Alisa, as if she were responsible for that term.
Alisa tried to brush it off with a nonchalant wave. “Engineers aren’t good with remembering names unless the things involved have sprockets and gears.”
His other eyebrow rose. Mica looked at his arms. This time, Alisa could not sublimate her blush. She wished she could retract the comment. For one silly second, she had forgotten that Leonidas had… if not sprockets and gears, certainly machine parts.
“And wheels,” she added lamely, as if she could fix the thoughtless joke.
“Hm,” Leonidas said.
Mica and Yumi shifted their weight, both looking almost as uncomfortable as Alisa felt. It had been so much easier when Leonidas had clearly been the enemy and they hadn’t worried about offending him. But when he had been the enemy, he hadn’t bantered with her and touched her cheek.
“As I was saying,” Yumi said into the awkward silence, “this might be the time to ask Beck to clean the latrines, since he’s feeling guilty.” She smiled.
“Cleaning the latrines,” Mica said. “Just the job I want the man who handles my food to have.”
“We don’t have a large crew,” Alisa said. “People have to be versatile and do numerous jobs.”
“What job is the Starseer going to do?” Mica asked.
The job of staying in his cabin and not pestering her with intrusions into her mind, Alisa hoped. “He’s a passenger. He doesn’t have to do a job.”
“Must be nice.”
“Speaking of that, are you planning to stay on a little longer?” Alisa hoped the answer was yes, since she was still low on funds and could not imagine taking the time to find and hire a decent engineer. It was bad enough her passengers wanted to take another side trip.
“What choice do I have?” Mica asked. “You didn’t exactly set down in one of the employment hubs of Arkadius.”
“You don’t think the Starseers would have hired you?”
“Maybe to clean latrines. From the brief contact I had with Beck’s dinner guests, they didn’t seem overly impressed with people who can’t tie cherry stems in knots with their minds.” Mica looked toward the maps still hovering in the air over Alisa’s desk. “Where are we going next?”
Alisa gave Leonidas a wry look. “The middle of nowhere, apparently.”
He returned her gaze blandly. She wondered if he was thinking about sprockets and wheels.
“I guess that’ll give me time to update my résumé,” Mica said.
THE END
Afterword
Ah ha, you made it to the end! I hope that means you’re enjoying the series. If you have time to leave a review on the books, I would appreciate it.
Also, if you haven’t signed up to get the Fallen Empire newsletter yet, I hope you’ll do so. You’ll receive a free copy of the short story “Saranth Three” right now and the Leonidas prequel, “Last Command,” later in the summer. Thanks!
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Title Page
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Afterword
Lindsay Buroker, Starseers
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