Star Raiders (18 page)

Freedom and safety were il usions for children. Life would ever be a constant struggle.

Without asking, the older woman took a seat next to her. “If I’d known you were coming home, I wouldn’t have let Rian go off hunting snips with Tomas. How long are you staying?” Matha asked. “They’l be back in four days.” Before they’d brought in goats, sheep, chickens and cattle, the wily little rodents had provided most of the colonists’ meat. Some stil favored the taste over the domesticated and more common Earth fare, but local cats were keeping the nearby population of snips low. Those that wished to hunt them had to travel out from the settled areas.

“I’l be gone by then,” Shy admitted.

“I can signal Tomas to return—”

“No!” Shy spoke too sharply. She moderated her tone. “Don’t ruin their trip.”

“Rian wil be crushed to have missed you. He misses you.”

“He has you and Tomas, his friends and school… Besides, I’l be back in a couple of weeks for a longer stay. We just came by to see to some repairs.” Matha lifted an eyebrow and looked ready to launch into one of her “You need to quit gal ivanting al over the universe and stay home with your son” lectures. It was a sore point between them. Matha had no idea of what it took to maintain Uta’s secrecy and continue to provide the goods that helped the colony survive. Even with the MAT units working at maximum efficiency, they couldn’t provide everything the people of Uta needed. Someone had to obtain those extra things and bring them here. Who besides herself and her crew could she trust to do that and not expose the world?

“We also came to drop off Brina,” Shy said, cutting the older woman off by changing the subject. “She’s too young for the life of a smuggler.”

“She’s older than you were when you started.”

“She’s injured.”

“You were pregnant.”

Neither of them mentioned the emotional traumas both women had suffered.

“I didn’t start smuggling until after Rian was born,” Shy countered.

“True,” Matha acknowledged. “What of your other passenger?” Shy stiffened. She hadn’t yet mentioned Greyson, and believed Matha would have had little time for gathering facts from other sources. “How did you…?” Matha laughed. “There’s little that goes on that I don’t know about.”

“Eldin?”

“Actual y, this time, no. Damon.”

“Damon?” Though Matha and Tomas tried to care for Damon as they had her, at ten he’d been too old to accept their love. It had broken both Matha’s and Shy’s hearts when he’d chosen to ship out with Kedar rather than stay with them on this world. And that was before Shy knew her father was leading Damon into a life of crime.

“The boy’s worried about you.”

“Worried about me? Why?” She couldn’t resolve the idea of Damon expressing worry about her to Matha. Damon kept his own counsel. He rarely revealed his feelings about anyone or anything; he hid them behind a smile and a carefree demeanor. “What did he say?”

Matha ignored the question and asked her own. “This man, Greyson Dane—

he’s Rian’s father, isn’t he?”

Shy let out a groan. “Does everyone know?” She’d hoped that aside from Eldin, her crew hadn’t noticed the resemblance.

Matha laughed. “Stars, no. But from what Damon says, once people see him they wil . Don’t worry. No one wil say anything. Everyone here is loyal to you.”

“Maybe, but someone might slip.” The sooner she got Greyson off Uta, the better.

What or who didn’t Shyanne want him to discover? With time running short and a C.O.I.L. invasion looming, her secret shouldn’t matter to Greyson, but it did. So despite her directive that he remain at the house, shortly after she left, he fol owed.

The three-mile trek into town took him through fertile farmland ripe with corn, wheat and grain. Plump livestock observed him placidly, grazing near fields already harvested. He didn’t see any farmhouses, which were hidden by trees and the rol ing landscape, but curls of smoke rose into the cloudless midafternoon sky.

A family working a field watched him pass. The woman clutched her children close. The man, his eyes hard and hostile, tightened his grip on an archaic hoe.

Their fear and suspicion fol owed him. After he passed out of sight, Greyson’s lungs expanded, but his body remained tense.

Thirty minutes later, he reached a town where modern technology col ided with the more antiquated. A streamlined hover car sat next to a horse-drawn cart fil ed with bags of grain. Outside the town’s general store, a digital sign flashed prices above a bin of fresh fruits and vegetables. The yeasty smel of baking bread and the sweet odor of fruit and flowers fil ed the air. Through the store’s open doorway he saw a display of electronic household gadgets beside a rack of woodenhandled tools.

In the center of the square, where the town’s two main roads intersected, surrounded by a broad grassy area, sat a gazebo. A group of young children played tag around the structure. As he approached, the buzz of conversation and commerce in the square died. One by one, people turned to regard him. Like tiny spiders, his awareness of their mistrust crawled in gooseflesh across his skin.

Impervious to the adults’ regard of him, laughing and shouting the children raced past like a stream around a boulder. One little girl of about four stopped in front of him. Her thumb in her mouth, she regarded him curiously. She pul ed out her thumb and said, “I Aimee. Who you?”

With her tousled brown hair and brown eyes, she looked nothing like the other little girl who haunted his nightmares, but decades-old pain held him rigid. He looked away. Since he’d failed to save Chalmer’s daughter, Greyson avoided the company of young children, especial y little girls. They reminded him of his failure.

Reminded him of his guilt. Reminded him of his hesitation and what it cost his adopted father.

Around him, the other children ran to and fro, their laughter washing over him like a fresh breeze. The girl tugged insistently on his pant leg. Against his better judgment, he crouched down and met her gaze.

“Hel o, Aimee. I’m Greyson.”

Suddenly shy, she ducked her head and scuffed her bare toes against the grass. “You wanna play, Gaysin?”

Her innocent trust stabbed into him. When they’d saved the children from the slave auction, he’d held himself apart, shut down his memories, closed off his heart and refused to become emotional y involved beyond the rescue. Now, with a smile and a touch, this little girl battered down the careful y constructed wal around his heart.

He had started to reach out to tuck a strand of hair behind the girl’s ear when a woman screamed the child’s name in panic. “Aimee!” Adrenaline jerked Greyson to his feet, looking around for the threat. He’d failed to save Anna; he wouldn’t let Aimee down.

Unalarmed, the child cast him a sweet smile, then dashed away. At the shout, the other children scattered, leaving Greyson standing alone on the green. Soon a dozen men, their faces hard, circled around him. Armed as they were with everything from laser pistols to rocks, he didn’t stand a chance of defending himself.

Holding up his hands in surrender, he backed toward the gazebo. Sweat trickled down his spine. “Easy, friends. I mean no harm.” He spoke Standard.

Unless they’d been slaves to an alien species, few out-worlders had TCs.

“Who are you?” asked an older man sporting a laser pistol.

“Greyson.” As was the custom on outer worlds, he gave only his first name.

Out-worlders preferred their family connections and places of origin to remain unidentified.

The other men pressed closer, and one asked, “What are you doing here?” One wrong word and these men wouldn’t hesitate to attack. Greyson prepared to fight or flee if he had to. He didn’t have to; a new voice cut through the air.

“He’s with me.”

The men surrounding him fel back and parted, leaving a path for Shyanne.

She strode through their ranks. Greyson let his hands fal to his side.

“You should warn us before strangers come to town, Domina.” The older man addressed her respectful y, but his tone was querulous. Apparently he held some position of authority and disliked being unaware of such important developments.

Greyson understood.

Shyanne smiled and touched the man’s shoulder. “You’re right, Director Harmin. I apologize for my oversight.” She frowned in Greyson’s direction. “I should have known he wouldn’t fol ow my instructions to stay away.”

“Shal I take him into custody? Since your last visit, we finished building the jail.” Now that his position and authority had been acknowledged, Director Harmin’s tone held less overt aggressiveness, but he stil looked eager and wil ing to take his anger out on Greyson.

“No need. Greyson is—”

Before she could finish, Greyson put his arm around Shyanne’s waist, tugged her to his side and said the first thing that came to mind, “I’m her husband.”

“Is this true, Domina?” Suspicion laced Director Harmin’s question.

Cursing his impulsive action, Greyson held his breath. Would she go along with his hasty explanation of his presence? If he’d had more time or had been thinking clearly, maybe he could have come up with a better plan.

Beneath his fingers, he felt the tension in Shyanne’s body. She gave a terse nod but didn’t say more. He gave a brief sigh of relief.

Though Harmin stil eyed him with distrust, at Shyanne’s announcement the mood in the square shifted from hostility to congratulations. The women, who’d been listening, eagerly crowded close and their voices added to the din.

“Very wel , Domina.” Harmin gave Greyson one last look of warning, then strode off.

The other men went back to what they’d been doing before Greyson arrived.

Tension drained out of him, leaving his knees feeling a bit like jel y. As an ASP

agent he’d faced death before, but never by innocent people who were simply terrified he was some kind of threat. Shyanne remained rigid in his embrace.

Now that the men were satisfied Greyson didn’t pose a threat, the women approached Shyanne to voice more of their good wishes. This went on for a bit, and then the conversation turned to other things.

“How long wil you be here?” one of the females asked.

“Tomorrow starts the Festival of Plenty. Have you brought any trade goods?” asked another.

“Have you brought current news? Vids from Earth?” Standing in the bright sunshine, Shyanne patiently answered each question, then chatted with the women, asking after their lives and families, listening and offering advice when asked. Though she ignored Greyson and appeared relaxed, he felt anger brewing beneath her calm facade. He’d weathered one crisis, but would soon face another.

Eventual y, their questions answered, their concerns addressed, the women moved away. Shyanne shook off Greyson’s arm and walked to the gazebo. He fol owed, remaining silent.

Out of earshot of the townspeople, she turned on him, her voice low. “Coming into town was stupid. They would have kil ed you.”

“I know,” he admitted. He hadn’t thought about the reaction these people might have to a stranger in their midst. It had been a rookie mistake, and a particularly unforgivable one, considering that the two of them were Earth’s last hope.

Shy clasped her hands together to stop them from trembling. Speaking with the townswomen had done nothing to soothe the anger and fear pulsing through her veins. But just whom was she angry with?

When she’d come into town and seen Greyson surrounded by an angry mob, her heart nearly stopped. A few minutes later and he’d have been dead—or at least seriously injured. If Matha hadn’t noticed the commotion in the square and contacted her, she would have arrived too late. Her need to protect her secret had nearly cost Greyson his life.

“Why did you claim to be my husband?” The question popped out without premeditation.

“Fear?” His answer sounded more like a question.

Fear. Somehow, that didn’t seem likely. He’d faced those men without a flicker of fear showing in his eyes. But, then, she knew him to be a consummate actor.

He’d pretended to love her, hadn’t he?

“With me posing as your husband, no one wil question my presence.” That made more sense. A business partner or a new crew member for
Independence
could be regarded with suspicion for a long time. But if it was an emotional bond such as marriage…wel , the people regarded her as their patron.

They trusted her. If she claimed Greyson as her beloved, they’d likely accept him without question.

Her beloved. A bitter taste fil ed her mouth. “What happens when they discover the lie?”

He shrugged. “We’l deal with the questions when they arise. But wil they?” Probably not. There was little communication between her crew and the people of Uta. They admired Eldin for his wisdom and al owed him to treat them in supplementary service to the colony doctor. Damon charmed them. But Able, Terle and Bear were merely tolerated, their rough looks and ways too reminiscent of the slavers who’d abused them. Silky had only come planet-side once. Her surly and alien nature, sharp claws and teeth had made her less than popular. She’d stayed just long enough to settle a few cats and never returned.

“Why did you come into town?” she asked.

“I got hungry?” he teased. Before she could respond to his il -timed humor, he took her hands in his. “Relax. Nothing happened.” The warmth of his hands tempted her to move closer. Instead, she jerked free and turned her back to him, afraid he might see what was in her heart. “Are you real y as calm as you seem?” Anger at the lingering fear for what might have happened ate holes in her gut.

His hands settled on her shoulders. “Of course not, but what good would panicking do?”

Against her wil , his voice soothed her rattled nerves. His calm was what had always attracted her to him, the way he stood rock solid, steady and sure, when al around him the universe seemed to be spinning madly out of control.

Though she’d adored Kedar, he’d rarely been there when she wanted or needed him. Matha and Tomas loved her and made a home for her, but they had never given her the sense of security she craved as a child. Away from home for the first time at eighteen, she’d felt lost and alone. Then Greyson was there, the anchor she needed to keep from drifting away, the bright star she could circle.