The Fireborn Chronicles Read online

  Ira scowled. Are you ignoring me?

  Yes. Tristen continued to speak to Rael. The mission objective is still achievable, sir.

  Back me in this Tristen, and he will have to give in.

  No Ira.

  Rael sat back for a moment and watched them. “He's talking to you now, isn't he?"

  Tristen nodded. Yes, sir.

  “Ira, it's rude to interrupt your team leader when he's giving orders. I may not be psychic, but I've got pretty good eyesight, and you have been telegraphing your mental activity; you know, empty glazed-over eyes, body language, obvious lack of attention to what's being said."

  Ira sighed and shook his head. “I don't want her working with Laynald on this. He hasn't spoken half a dozen words to her since she arrived. He doesn't trust her. He will...."

  “Stop it, Ira,” Rael insisted. “Laynald's reliability is beyond reproach. Tristen is probably safer with him than she is here. Why do you make me state the obvious now? All of this is still too new for you two to trust it. It is untested and undefined. You do not even know your own limitations yet. And so we will proceed the safest way possible while we assess these new talents."

  He turned to Tristen. “I want Ira to monitor you from here if he can. Perhaps he can help you through it, strengthen you. Be there with you even when you're apart. The way I understand the pattern thing, other telepaths shouldn't be able to sense his presence now because you have the same signatures. So, this could prove to be pretty handy, but if anything goes wrong I don't want to have to carry both of you back here. People would notice."

  Ira leaned back and crossed his arms. “You're probably right,” but I don't like it.

  Tristen smiled.

  Rael nodded. “Good then, we need to get back to these maps and wait for Laynald. If nothing else, maybe this will help to put his mind to rest. You know how much he worries.” Rael activated the display across the tabletop. “Ok, Tristen you need to get familiar with this floor plan. This is the emergency escape route here.” He leaned down and pointed to a newly highlighted pathway.

  * * * *

  Laynald entered the room with a stack of wrapped packages in his arms. “All right everybody,” he called for their attention. “Seems that we can get away with wearing these over what we're wearing now. Fortunately black is universally considered a class act.” He began tossing packages to each of them, “but this place is a resort and all, so these will actually help us to blend in with the frolicking masses."

  Rael unwrapped a large, oversized shirt. It was neon blue with disturbingly bright geometric patterns. He held it toward Laynald. “Tell me they paid you to take this."

  Laynald pretended not to notice Rael's distressed look. “I'm telling you that these are the height of fashion here.” He started tearing away at his own package.

  Ira held up an equally bizarre floral print in electric green. “Trade you, Rael?” He held it up for Rael to see.

  “No, thanks kid, this one's looking better by the minute."

  Laynald slipped on his own piece of ugly: dark vertical stripes with sporadic splashes of random colors. “Believe it or not, these are actually the blandest garments I could find.” He tugged at the collar to straighten it and then began to readjust his weaponry and dart tubes for easy access.

  Tristen fumbled with the larger of her two packages. Ira, avoiding the floral shirt for as long as possible, shifted his attention to help her out. She eventually drew out a three quarter length sleeveless gown. It was peacock green with vertical stripes of gold fastened in the front by with a long shimmering row of tiny buttons. She held it up for everyone to see. Laynald, it is beautiful, she said. Thank you.

  Everyone looked at Laynald, who in turn pretended not to notice. “You're welcome, Tristen. The women here accessorize with a veil, and I thought it would help to keep you from being recognized until you're ready."

  Tristen slipped her arms into the gown and began to fumble with its many tiny buttons, which extended all the way to the bottom of the gown. Ira stepped up to help her, and she gratefully allowed it.

  Rael's temple plates flickered. “Here,” he said motioning to the table screen, “here are some pictures to go by.” Fashion photo layouts covered the screen. “There, this is how it's worn, looks like they leave the bottom buttons open for movement and flash.” He smiled at Ira. “Where's the veil?"

  Tristen straightened the gown and turned to retrieve the last package. She opened this one with ease and pulled out a sea green veil with intricate gold filigree worked into elegant patterns throughout it. She gasped, How beautiful!

  Rael reached over and lifted a corner of it. “Is this supra silk?"

  Laynald glared at him. “Ok, ok. I just thought that she might like the outfit.” He turned to Tristen. “Maybe this can help you to distract Switt long enough for you to work your magic. But if nothing else the scarf should bring out the color of your eyes.” He looked again to find Rael and Ira both haplessly staring at him. “Now if we waste more time maybe our target will leave this fashionless jungle, and we will have bought these God-awful shirts for nothing!” He motioned toward the door.

  Ira scrambled to pull his shirt on. Rael smiled. “Well we do look festive don't we? Oh Laynald, we've had a change of plan while you were gone. You're going with Tristen instead of Ira."

  Laynald turned to Rael. “Why?"

  “Seems they've gotten too close.” Rael grinned. “Still too new to be sure about everything, but so far it looks like they have total empathy and telepathy in the link. Ira's gonna try to track and monitor her from here with me. We'll check for range too while we're at it."

  “Empathy too, huh?” Laynald frowned, “So one drops, they both go down?"

  “Don't have time to check just now, but it's probable. Hopefully this will turn out to be a blessing, but keep your eyes open just the same."

  Laynald nodded and looked over toward the young couple. Ira was helping Tristen with the veil, her eyes sparkling at the attention. “I'll watch out for her, Captain."

  Tristen looked up and smiled at him. Thank you, she said again.

  He nodded briefly and turned his attention back to the captain.

  I thought you said he didn't like me? she thought to Ira.

  He smiled at her and helped arrange the drape of the veil over her shoulder. He once told me he believed that a thing of beauty is always the most deadly. Tristen blushed. That's about as close to a vote of confidence as you will get from him. Just don't forget that when you work with him the mission is his first and foremost priority.

  I agree with him, she answered.

  Ira shook his head. You will be careful, alright? He reached down and slid the gloves from both her hands. You won't need these any more.

  “Let's go.” Rael motioned to the door. “Laynald and Tristen, you need to head out. We'll stay here and join up as needed. Be careful."

  * * *

  CHAPTER 11

  Ira reluctantly watched them depart down the docking bay ramp. I should be with you, he thought to her.

  You are, she replied, now do not press me so. I need to concentrate. She felt his touch lift to where only a surface presence remained.

  “You ready now?” Laynald said.

  She nodded. Yes, sir.

  He paused at the edge of the ramp and looked back at her. “What is the best way to do this?” he finally asked.

  What image are we projecting?

  “For now, hmm, for now you are a noble woman of import, and I'm your body guard. Can you do that?"

  Tristen thought back to all the rich women she'd seen at The Palace. Imitating them, she drew herself up, stiffening her back and raising her head arrogantly, then looked toward him. Like this?

  Laynald smiled, “Yep that's the look. Do you want your guard to walk before you and clear the path or to follow in your magnificent wake?"

  She rolled her sightless green eyes. You may follow me slightly to my left and guide me with your all-encompassi
ng gaze. It will get easier as we do it. You'll see. Oh, and you are my voice as well. Others will assume you are my translator—which you actually are.

  They followed the market road from the port to allow them enough time to tune up their roles for closer scrutiny. Tristen warmed into hers with ease. So much so that twice she stopped to peruse local merchants and price their wares. Laynald found his role surprisingly easy, and nobody questioned his presence or behavior.

  The crowds thickened as they reached the entertainment sector beyond the marketplace. Street performers hovered, slithered and glided among them, happily enhancing an already carnival-like atmosphere. Drink and food vendors were everywhere, a different music poured from each open door as they passed. It was intoxicating, but they traveled on unwaveringly until they stood within sight of Mallory Switt's establishment.

  It was called The Jungle. The holographically enhanced entrance beckoned and promised the illusion of romance and excitement amidst the wonders of nature.

  A swarthy guide joined them as they entered through the magnificently sculpted archway. “Welcome to The Jungle,” he said with a smile. Drawing them into his wake, he motioned for them to follow him toward the main event hall. “How may I serve you, gracious lady?"

  “A table by the west wall, please,” Laynald answered.

  The attendant looked at the two of them, reassessing their stature, then as Tristen had expected, he resumed the assumption that Laynald was the noble woman's subordinate. “Yes Lady, follow me please.” He led them down an ornate corridor to the immense main hall. Tristen gasped at the sheer splendor of it. Nothing at all like The Palace, this great hall was pentagonal, with lush floors of vegetation and a softly flowing waterfall tumbling from the eastern wall. Live and holographic aquatic creatures lounged and swam in and around the pool at its base.

  In the center of the great hall grew an enormous tree with a trunk so large that it formed a winding stairway leading up into the most marvelous bowers. Its huge winding branches snaked all across the sky, meshing together into platforms upon which couples dined at tiny tables. There they sat amidst the star-filled sky set aglow by the flickering candlelight in their hidden bowers. Exotic vines hung and draped everywhere, occasionally needing to be brushed out of the way by people walking about.

  Four of the room's five walls contained equally magical settings: a moonlit garden, a forest-lined glade, and on the wall that Laynald had requested there were holographic snow-topped mountains overlooking a field of fragrant purple wild flowers. The guide motioned Tristen to follow him.

  As they threaded their way through the incredible simulations Tristen, watching through Laynald's vigilant eyes, took note of each bird that floated in the distance as well as the many beautifully framed wildlife sightings. She also saw as he located the camouflaged holo-projector units woven among treetop branches as well as the enormous room's well-hidden doorways and passages.

  “Would you prefer a table and chairs or something more picnic style?” the attendant asked them.

  “We would be seated at a table with a bottle of your best for the Lady,” Laynald insisted.

  As from nowhere, tiny elfin creatures brought forth a small table with dressing and chairs and even the drinks they had ordered. Then they disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. The attendant stepped forward and drew out a seat for the Lady.

  Tristen stepped forward as if to take it, then touching his hand as she sat, she entranced him. When does Mallory Switt check the hall today?

  “He does so at random, when he comes at all.” He slid her chair closer to the tiny table and proceeded to pour her a glass of a sparkling citrus brew.

  Convince him he is needed now, then continue with your duties and forget you have seen us. She smiled at him and took the drink as if he had proffered it. Thank you.

  He left her side and headed immediately toward one of the room's many hidden exits.

  Laynald noted its location. The floor plans had indicated business offices and Mallory's quarters in that direction. He scanned the room, locating Switt's most likely henchmen and watching her silent manipulations of the attendant as he slid into his seat across from where she sat.

  “What have you done?” he asked quietly as he pretended to sip his drink.

  I have sent for Mallory. It is possible he will recognize my handiwork. You should find a reason to distance yourself from me now in case this doesn't work.

  Laynald nodded and bowed to her before appearing to take his leave.

  She smiled and waved him on.

  He disappeared into the crowds, eventually situating himself behind one of the holographic shields for the tree structure. Concealed there, he safely watched and provided Tristen with a better vantage point from which to view the room's activities.

  Acrobatic wood nymphs performed among the great tree's branches. Happy clientele pointed and marveled at their antics from all around.

  Mallory's concealed doorway opened. He stepped from the shadows into the large room flanked by two of his guards. Uneasily he scanned the room from where he stood.

  Tristen recognized the exhaustion in his stance and movements. Remaining seated at her little table, she sipped the bubbly drink as he began winding his way through the crowd. Eventually she arose from the table and started toward him through the crowded hall. Her vision swam with multiple viewpoints as she sought him amidst the milling crowd, until finally she was close enough to touch his bare arm and establish contact.

  As she reached for him, Mallory suddenly spun to face her. He greeted her with an unexpected smile.

  She froze, and everything went black.

  * * * *

  From the Nemesis, Rael followed everything through The Jungle's surveillance systems. He watched Switt's clever guard catch Tristen before she fell: an unseen injection having stolen her consciousness. They whisked her out of the hall through the hidden exit, Mallory following them closely.

  Laynald's report was immediate. “Didn't work Captain, they're taking her. Are you tracking?"

  “Yes,” he answered quietly. “Let her go. Give her time to regain consciousness, see if she'll call for extraction."

  “She won't,” Laynald stated flatly. “How's Ira?"

  “Out cold, same as her. Never saw it coming. When they wake up, he'll reestablish contact with her. Stay put and enjoy the view."

  * * * *

  Tristen awoke to find herself sprawled across a lavishly large bed. She took a moment to notice that the emerald green velvet bedspread really accentuated her new wardrobe. Someone was in the room with her watching her as she stirred. She recognized his presence and turned to face him.

  “You look great there."

  Mallory, she smiled. His deep, rich voice had always sounded melodic to her. I need your help.

  “So what's so important that would cause you to risk your freedom like this?"

  He tossed the monogrammed slave collar onto the bed next to her.

  Tristen tensed at the sight of it. I ... I can help you escape from Harbringer and set you free.

  “Hmm, aren't you full of surprises? First, showing up here looking delectable and now recruiting to topple an interplanetary corporate warlord. You've been busy since last I saw you, haven't you?” He sauntered over and sat next to her on the bed. “You realize Harbringer's pretty much thrown me to the wolves here, don't you?"

  Of course, I do, only I run with that pack now ... and they've sent me with a deal to save you.

  Mallory reached out and brushed his fingertips across the curve of her cheek. “All this posturing, but you're still not ready to try to force your will onto mine, are you?"

  I don't want to, she answered softly. Please, don't force me to. She felt his coldness and braced herself.

  Mallory drew away and stared at her for an overly long time. Then he backhanded her, sending her sprawling across the bed again. “What makes you think that you can talk to me like that? You will remember your place!"

  Sh
e saw his hands as he brushed his long brown hair from his face and struggled to recompose himself.

  “Ok, let's start again. Tell me about your new friends. Who are these people who dare to send you back to me like this?"

  Tristen pulled herself up and moved toward him. She felt Ira's presence, his rage swelling even more than the fresh welt on her face. She struggled to calm it.

  Spacial Agents, she hissed, despite her efforts as she drew up beside him at the bed's edge. Gov Dark Ops; they're all around you. Watching as we speak. Harbringer is the least of your problems now. In fact, he's just become your salvation if you will help them. Their offer comes with amnesty and protection ... for both of us.

  Mallory paused, looking her in the eye.

  She wondered if he felt or sensed Ira's angry presence. She was having more and more trouble repressing his feelings.

  Mallory rose and moved away, almost reaching the door before turning to look back. “Put on the collar, and I'll talk to them,” he said.

  No! Don't do this! Ira insisted.

  Tristen reached out and grabbed it up, running her fingers along its slick surface to where the monogrammed MS was engraved. Wear your colors into battle? she asked.

  “Be my hostage,” he replied with that silken voice of his. His words almost caressed her with their perilous message.

  Slowly she positioned it around her neck, gasping as it snapped shut and tightened around her throat.

  “Much better.” Mallory approached and almost gently helped her up from the bed, “That's more like it.” He drew the long flowing veil from her shoulders and took the time to rearrange it so that it again attractively framed her face allowing the delicate monogram to show at her throat. “Veils are the height of fashion these days,” he said. “They are so feminine."

  She heard the smile in his voice but did not respond. Ira's rage was palpable. She directed her thoughts to him for a moment. I can handle him, Ira. Please just trust me, and let me do what must be done here.