Lindsay Buroker's Blog: Lindsay Buroker, page 5

Genesis of Death Before Dragons (and a few reader questions answered)

I don’t know about you, but when I’m into a new TV show or book series, I love to hunt down extras and behind-the-scenes stuff online. Remember the good old days when we got DVDs that had director and actor commentaries included? Maybe they still do, but it’s been a while since I’ve had a computer that even has a DVD player so I’ve wandered into the streaming world like everyone else.

Anyway, I thought I’d answer a few questions and share some thoughts about my new series in case you also like extra tidbits.

Genesis of Death Before Dragons

If you’ve read my space opera or my heroic fantasy, you’ve probably guessed that I’m a fan of stories that take place in made-up worlds far, far away. It’s what I grew up reading (Eddings, Brooks, Feist, Tolkien, about a thousand Forgotten Realms and Star Trek novels…), and it’s always seemed fun to make up all new worlds for my stories.

But here with Death Before Dragons, we’re in the Pacific Northwest where I grew up and still visit. The main reason is because Val, the heroine of the story, popped into my mind as someone from my own time. I first came up with the character when I was rewatching Gross Pointe Blanke. The dialogue is fantastic in that movie and I always liked the idea of the hitman main-character Martin trying to figure out why he’s not satisfied with his life… through visits with a therapist who is totally not into him. I thought something like this would be fun to do in a fantasy story.

Since it would be hard for my heroine to call and text a therapist in a steam-age or medieval setting, I came around to the idea of having Val live in our world. I also wanted to give her a health challenge or two to work through (she doesn’t have it as bad as poor seizure-prone Casmir in my Star Kingdom series, but she’s otherwise a badass, so she needed an Achilles heel), and as someone who keeps an inhaler in my purse, it seemed like it was time to do a character with some lung issues. We’ll find out more about the why on that (for her) later.

I knew right away that if I was going to do an urban fantasy series set in a modern era, I would want to bring in some of my favorite creatures and beings from epic fantasy. Dragons for starters, but you’ll see some elves and maybe even some dwarves and gnomes as the series continues. Oh, and the goblins. You’ll meet the goblins in Book 2, and they’ll be back in 3. Who doesn’t love goblins?

As a nod to typical urban fantasy stories, I’ve got some werewolves and vampires in there too (though I’m not sure Zoltan the alchemist with the YouTube following quite counts as a typical vampire).

I was a bit nervous about jumping into urban fantasy (would my epic-fantasy-loving readers follow me?). It and paranormal romance are the largest sub-genres of fantasy, and they’re the most competitive. I’ve been bidding on Amazon ads and falling over from sticker shock. So far, so good though. Many thanks if you’re reading the new series!

What’s up with that series title?

Death Before Dragons is of course a play on the saying death before dishonor. As early as Book 1, Val’s fate becomes intertwined with that of the visiting dragon Lord Zavryd, and she finds herself involved with a whole world of dragon politics that she knew nothing about (and would have preferred to go on knowing nothing about).

Those dragons have a tendency to see humans (and half-elves) as minions and think little of magically taking control of them. But as Val tells us a couple of times, she would die before being some dragon’s pawn…

Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that!

Will Val learn more about her elven heritage and meet her father?

I keep her pretty busy with Earth-based problems in the first few books, but she will get some visits from elves, and she might just get to go to their world one day. Will they accept her? I don’t know, since I haven’t written those scenes yet! We shall see. But I do plan to have her learn more about her heritage and her magical sword (whose proper name is probably not “Chopper”).

Will Zav chill out and become less arrogant?

Well, he is a dragon. A humble dragon would be weird, right?

He does mellow a touch as the series goes on, at least when he warms up to Val. He’s still a bit of a stick with everyone else.

How many books will there be?

I’m not sure yet. I have the first four written and the next one plotted out, so at least five.

To some extent, reviews and sales play into how many books I write with the same set of characters, but I tend to have in mind story arcs that I want to gradually resolve over the course of a series, and I consider a series complete once I do that. That doesn’t mean there won’t ever be more installments (Republic and Oaths were both unplanned novels that extended my Emperor’s Edge and Dragon Blood series respectively), but I’m not usually one to write five more books after I complete the main story arc.

That’s my way of saying it’s a bit up in the air, but it’ll probably be more than five and fewer than ten.

Battle Bond (Death Before Dragons Book 2) Preview Chapters

I wrote the first three books in my new Death Before Dragons urban fantasy series before publishing the first, so the second novel (Battle Bond) is already ready to go. If you haven’t yet read the first book (Sinister Magic), you can try the first few chapters here.

If you want to check out the opening chapters of Battle Bond, scroll down. If you already know you want to grab a copy, here are the links for Amazon:

Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Amazon AUS
Amazon DE
Amazon FR

As always, thank you very much for reading and for your support!

Chapter 1

“It’s a trap.”

The slender wire was barely visible under the mulch and fallen apple-blossom petals, but even if I hadn’t seen it, my half-elven blood would have allowed me to sense the faint hint of magic.

I’d taken three laps around the sprawling orchard, rows of trees stretching across dozens of acres, and it was my only proof that someone magical was in the area. Or had been in the area. Whoever it was hadn’t been considerate enough to leave footprints.

I stood up, flicked my long blonde braid over my shoulder, and contemplated my options. Then impulsively chose one that wasn’t that wise. I stepped into the trap.

Wire tightened around my ankle, then pulled at my leg hard enough to yank me off my feet. A second later, I dangled upside down, hands stretched toward the ground, like a cartoon hunter outsmarted by a clever rabbit.

My car keys, inhaler, and the stupid lavender-scented nose spray my doctor had recommended to calm my nerves tumbled out of my pocket. I hadn’t needed so many silly things along on missions before my previously excellent health had gone off the rails. I still wasn’t entirely sure what inflammatory markers did, but I was supposed to be de-stressing my life to improve them. Hard to do while dangling upside down from a tree.

Fortunately, Fezzik, my custom-made magical submachine pistol, stayed secure in its thigh holster, and Chopper, my even more magical longsword, remained in the scabbard strapped across my back. The hilt did clunk me in the back of the head as it shifted, but I deserved that. My leather thong strung with magical charms remained around my neck, but I had to tuck my chin to keep it there.

Val? Sindari’s voice spoke into my mind—Sindari’s amused voice.

I’d thought he was on the other side of the orchard, but when I twisted, I saw the great silver tiger padding toward me, his large paws barely stirring the grass between the rows of trees.

“Yes?” I answered aloud instead of in my mind.

With four of the neighborhood children missing, and dozens of local pigs devoured in the last week, the owners weren’t wandering the property right now, so I wasn’t worried about being overheard talking to a magical tiger.

Do you need me to rescue you?

“No. Actually, I need you to scoot off over the hill so whoever set this trap won’t sense you when they come to check on what they caught.”

Sindari sat on his haunches and looked up at me. You intentionally stepped into that situation?

“Yes. Now, scoot.” I made a shooing motion. “You can come back and rescue me if more than four enemies show up.”

You should be able to handle four kobolds by yourself. They’re only two or three feet tall.

“That’s why I said I’d only need rescuing if there were more than four.”

Sindari’s gaze shifted toward the next row of trees. One approaches now.

Good. I switched to thinking my responses, trusting the telepathic tiger would hear them. Shoo.

I am Sindari Dargoth Chaser the Third, Son of the Chieftain Raul, Feared Stalker and Hunter of the Tangled Tundra Nation on Del’noth. I do not shoo. He did, fortunately, engage his ability to fade from sight—and from the magical senses of anyone except the person holding his figurine.

Since that was me, I still felt him there. A few seconds later, I sensed more magical beings out there. Six of them, and they were spreading out around us. I resisted the urge to draw my weapons, instead letting my arms dangle over my head. I was just a helpless visitor foolishly caught in their trap.

Something pelted me in the butt, and I jerked, gasping at the pain.

“What was that?” I clasped a hand over the smarting spot. It felt like someone had cracked a whip.

A faint twang sounded, and something stung my opposite shoulder.

Are they shooting me? I twisted, trying to pinpoint the location of my assailants.

With slingshots. Do you wish me to rescue you now? Sindari sounded more amused than concerned for my welfare.

If these were the beings responsible for kidnapping—and possibly killing—children, this wasn’t a laughing matter.

Another projectile—a rock?—buzzed past my head, stirring my hair. The leaves rustled in a nearby tree.

Just capture one. We need to question someone.

As Sindari sprang away, I yanked Chopper from its scabbard, pulled myself up, and sliced through the wire above me. The blade cut through the enchanted wire without trouble, and I had just enough room to flip a somersault and land on my feet. I still had to cut away the binding around my ankles, and I grimaced at the lost time. The kobolds had scattered as soon as Sindari leaped after them.

But I heard the one that had been in the tree jumping down. As soon as I was free, I sprinted after him.

The white-haired, two-foot-tall, gray-skinned creature darted into the next row of trees, a slingshot clenched in his small fist. I ducked branches and darted around trunks to follow.

My father’s blood gave me better-than-human agility, but thanks to my mom, I also carried the blood of ancient Norse warriors in my veins, and they’d conspired to make me six feet tall. Branches clawed at my hair and smacked me in the face as I raced after the kobold. I lost sight of him, but my senses kept me on his trail.

As I surged out of the trees at the edge of the orchard, he came into sight again, sprinting for the native evergreens on the property’s border. And the non-native, invasive blackberry brambles growing between those trees.

My long legs let me gain ground, and I urged them to even faster speeds as I saw his destination. A rabbit-sized hole in the dense wall of thorny vines.

I unstrapped Fezzik from my holster but hesitated to shoot him in the back. I wasn’t yet sure these kobolds were responsible for the trouble, and my mother’s words rang in my mind, that maybe the magical community would hate me less—would stop sending representatives to try to kill me—if they didn’t fear me, if I helped them.

A split second before I would have caught up to him, the kobold dove through the hole. It looked too small even for him, but he slithered into it like a greased snake. It was all I could do to halt in time to keep from face-planting in the thorns.

Vines and leaves rattled, marking the kobold’s passage as he found a route deeper and deeper into the brambles. Even my height wasn’t enough to allow me to see over them and guess how far back into the trees the patch extended. Probably all the way to Puget Sound. There was a reason the Himalayan blackberry topped the lists of the most noxious invasive weeds in the Pacific Northwest.

As I was eyeing Chopper, debating how effective my treasured blade would be at clearing a path through the thorny tangle, I spotted the property owners heading my way.

I groaned. Had they seen me failing to capture a single toddler-sized kobold? They better have not seen me getting pelted in the butt by him.

Embarrassment heated my cheeks as I imagined snarky comments about how they thought they’d brought in the legendary Ruin Bringer, not some self-proclaimed bounty hunter hired off the internet.

Sindari? I asked silently as the middle-aged man and woman approached. Any chance you’ve captured the rest of them and tied them up with a bow for me?

Surprisingly, Sindari didn’t answer. The cat-shaped charm on my necklace that could call him into this world warmed through the fabric of my shirt. Then it went ice cold, sending a chill through me that had nothing to do with physical sensation.

Sindari? I touched the charm.

Nothing.

 

Chapter 2

“It got away?” the man asked as he and his wife stopped, glancing at the blackberry brambles.

Worried about Sindari, I struggled to focus on him. “Yeah. Sorry.”

The middle-aged couple didn’t look much like my mental image of farmers—or orchard owners. He wore a Microsoft T-shirt and glasses, and she was in yoga pants and a hoodie displaying a stick figure doing the splits under instructions to Stay flexible.

Ayush and Laura were their names, I reminded myself. Colonel Willard had given me information on them and their lavender farm/apple orchard/cider house/winery when she’d given me the job.

“I told you we should have cleared all this.” The woman pointed to the brambles and frowned at her husband.

“And I told you we’d need a hundred goats and a skidsteer with a brush-saw attachment to make any headway. It’s been an epic battle just to keep them from encroaching on the orchard.”

“I didn’t object to the idea of goats,” she murmured.

“Just the forty-thousand-dollar machine?”

“Yes. That’s not in the budget.”

“But goats are?”

“Goats are cute.”

I was barely listening, my gaze scanning the orchard for signs of Sindari, even though I suspected he’d been dismissed from this world. Usually, that was something only the holder of the figurine could do. But I’d once seen a powerful dark-elf mage force him away.

“Is this how they’ve been getting in and out?” Ayush pointed at the hole. The brambles had stopped rattling, and the kobold was far away now. “What are they?”

“Kobolds. I was trying to capture one to question. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were the ones that stole and ate your pigs. I’m not sure about the children. They are known for playing pranks—” I resisted the urge to rub the incipient bruise on my left butt cheek, “—but they’re usually smart enough not to pick fights with humans.”

“Kobolds,” the woman mouthed, looking at her husband.

From her face, it was clear she hadn’t encountered magical beings before and wasn’t sure she believed in them. Lucky her.

Her husband’s expression was more grim and accepting. “You can find them, right? And find the children?”

I hesitated, aware that the missing children could be as eaten as the pigs, but I didn’t want to steal their hope. “I can find the kobolds, and I’ll question them about what’s been going on.”

I just had to figure out a way around the thorny brambles. I could sense more kobolds in that direction, but they were at least a half mile back. Unless Zav—the dragon who was determined to use me as bait to find the criminals he’d been sent to Earth to collect—showed up and breathed fire all over the place, I wasn’t going that way. Besides, I hadn’t seen Zav in two weeks. It was possible he’d completed his mission and left Earth forever. Dare I hope?

“I’ll find a way around.” I waved at the blackberry brambles and started to turn away, but Ayush lifted his hand.

“I know the government pays you, but if you can find the children, we’ll give you some of our cider and wine and lavender chocolates. As much as you want.”

Lavender chocolate? What strange thing was that? I wouldn’t say no to hard cider, but I wasn’t here for goodies.

“You don’t have to give me anything.” I waved and jogged off to collect my belongings from under the trap and to look for a break in the brush—and Sindari.

As soon as I was out of their sight, I would try summoning him again. And hope that whatever had driven him out of this world wasn’t permanent.

Before I could reach for the charm, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

“Yeah?”

“Ms. Thorvald,” came Colonel Willard’s dry Southern accent. “Did you not learn proper phone etiquette when you were in the army?”

“No. I was a pilot, not a secretary, and then they made me an assassin.”

“Assassins don’t answer phones?” Her connection was spotty, with voices in the background making it worse.

“Not politely. You’re supposed to be fierce and vague in case an enemy is calling. Do you have something new for me? I’m hunting kobolds.” Since the property owners were out of sight, I wrapped my fingers around the cat figurine and mouthed, “Sindari,” to summon him back. I hoped.

“I do have new intel. I’ve lost touch with the forest ranger who was trying to find the kobolds’ den, but the snitch in Port Townsend who first told me about the trouble has updated me. She says they may be taking orders from a leader and not necessarily acting of their own free will.”

“Yeah, I guessed that.”

The silver mist that always formed and coalesced into Sindari was slow to appear, as if it were fighting against some invisible force determined to quash the magic.

“You’ve encountered him or her?” Willard asked.

“Not yet, but someone knocked Sindari back to his realm.”

“Try to find that person instead. Have you killed any kobolds yet?”

“No.” This time, I did rub my butt cheek. “I just spotted them for the first time.”

The mist thickened, and I exhaled in relief as Sindari’s familiar features formed. It was taking longer than usual, but he was coming.

“Avoid killing them unless you can confirm that they’re responsible. We’re trying to create less animosity among the magical community for both our sakes.” There was a grimace in her voice.

“I know. I will.”

Willard’s reply of, “Good,” was almost drowned out by metal clanking in the background.

“Colonel, are you at the gym or are you recycling aluminum cans?”

“I don’t drink anything that comes in a can.”

“That’s what I thought.” I frowned my disapproval at the phone. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’m doing some walking and light stretching.”

“In the weight room?”

“I’ve been cleared for exercise, Thorvald.” She’d called me Val when she’d been in the hospital dying, but it seemed we were back to formalities now. “It’s fine. I want to get my health back.”

“You had cancer two weeks ago. The best way to get your health back is to rest.”

Finally, Sindari fully formed, once again a solid silver tiger at my side. I’d ask for details as soon as I got off the call but leaned against him and wrapped an arm over his back.

“It was a magically induced unnatural cancer,” Willard said.

“So that means doing squats and bench presses right after is fine? You better not have signed up for a new triathlon.”

“I’m not doing squats. Just light leg presses. And you do know that you’re my lowly civilian contractor, not my boss, right?”

“Lowly? I tower over you.”

“Two inches isn’t towering. If I grew my hair out, I’d be taller than you.”

“I’m positive that you with a six-inch afro isn’t regulation,” I said, though I suspected Willard could wear her hair and her clothes however she wanted at the office in Seattle. The soldiers stationed there were supposed to blend in to more easily monitor and control criminal activity from magical beings hiding out and traveling through the city.

“The regs just say it has to be off your neck and fit in your hat,” Willard said.

“If I had more money, I’d bribe you to grow it out just so I could see that.”

“You’ll get your usual combat bonus if you bring in whoever is leading the kobolds. There’s a school less than a mile from there. We can’t let them keep kidnapping children.”

“I know. I’m on it.” I hung up.

I’d resumed walking as I spoke and reached a stream that flowed through the corner of the property. The blackberry brambles lay thick on one side but hadn’t yet taken over the other.

“Looks like we can get through here, Sindari. What happened to…” I trailed off, realizing he wasn’t at my side.

I whirled, afraid he’d been kicked out of our world again. But I spotted him rolling like a dog on his back under some apple trees.

“Sindari?” I called. “What are you doing?”

He stopped rolling, his legs splayed, his forepaws in the air, but he kept rubbing his head on the grass under the tree. Rolling, he replied.

“I see you’re not overly traumatized by whatever punted you away from Earth. That was someone else’s doing, wasn’t it? You didn’t simply get tired and want to take a nap?”

Of course not, Val. My stamina is amazing. And I’ve only spent an hour in your world today. Sindari kept rubbing his head in the grass.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind, we still need to find a kobold to question. And can you close your legs? I can see your junk.”

My what?

“Never mind. I’m going this way. Please join me at your earliest convenience.”

My boots squished in mud as I walked along a well-used trail on the clear side of the stream. It grew dim quickly under the forest of firs and hemlocks, the trunks rising a hundred feet and more. Dew dripped from the branches, occasionally landing on my head.

Every few steps, I knelt down to study fresh prints in the mud. They were smaller than mine but not as small as kobold prints. Maybe the local children used this path to cut through from property to property. That was another reason to find whoever was threatening them.

You’re going the right direction, Sindari told me as he caught up. Forgive my distraction. I could not resist.

“Resist what? Did someone sprinkle catnip under those trees?”

Fertilizer, I believe.

“Isn’t that stuff poisonous to animals?”

This was bone meal and fish meal fertilizer. Quite aromatic and delightful.

Maybe I would get some catnip later and see if my mighty silver tiger would roll around like that on my living room floor.

“Where did you go when you disappeared? Did you catch the kobold?”

No. I was close and then… ah, I found a trap of my own.

“You didn’t step in a snare and fly up in a tree, did you?”

No, I’m not so foolish.

“Ha ha.”

Follow me. Sindari sprang across the creek and onto another path. Here, the brambles had been burned back, as if by someone with a flamethrower. It was hard to imagine that being effective, since the forest was still very damp this early in the season. The trap was expertly laid and camouflaged. I didn’t sense the magic until it sprang, knocking me back into my realm with a blast of pain.

I’m sorry you were hurt. Do kobolds have mages powerful enough to create such things? I eyed the burned-back vines, wondering if magic had been used rather than a flamethrower.

It wasn’t created by a kobold.

Do you know what did create it?

Sindari didn’t answer right away, instead leading me around bends in the trail, then on toward an opening in the trees ahead. Maybe he didn’t know who had created it.

A faint tingle poked at my senses, like electricity under a high-voltage line. Magic.

Eventually, the trail led us into a large meadow of waist-high grass leading to an old windmill beside a creek. Sindari sat on his haunches and faced it. It was the source of the magic.

That is who created it, Sindari told me.

The windmill? I drew even with him, my instincts itching. The windmill represented a threat, but I also had the feeling that someone was watching us.

No, the being using it for its lair. He isn’t there now, but I can smell dragon.

I gave him a sharp look. Zav?

I didn’t sense his aura, and it was powerful enough that I usually did from a mile away. All I sensed, other than the windmill itself was…

Oh, damn. There were the kobolds again. I’d almost missed their auras since the windmill radiated magic. They were out in the tall grass. All six of them. Had they spotted us yet?

No. I recognize the scent of Lord Zavryd. This is another dragon.

“Another dragon?” I blurted out loud before I caught myself and switched to silent speech. How can we have gone from no dragons on Earth for a thousand years to two in the same month?

I don’t know, but brace yourself. We’re about to be—

All six kobolds rushed toward us, the grasses wavering madly with their passage. As I drew Chopper, the first one came into view. He’d traded his slingshot for a gun.

 

Chapter 3

I dove to the side, rolling into the grass, a split second before the kobold fired at me.

Sindari pounced as the bullet whizzed past my head. He tackled the kobold with the gun, but the five others burst out of the grass, armed with guns, daggers, and bows and arrows. The weapons were small enough to fit in their diminutive hands—but dangerous enough to be deadly.

I leaped up from my roll in time to greet two rushing kobolds, one male and one female, with Chopper.

The male had a dagger and the female a pistol. Faster than she could take aim, I whipped the blade across to strike the weapon. I’d only intended to knock it from her grip, but Chopper’s magical blade cut through it like butter, leaving a glowing blue streak in the air.

Even though I could have finished her off, Willard’s words came to mind. I spun on my heel and launched a low side kick. My boot slammed into her small chest, and she flew backward into the grass.

Her companion lunged at me with his dagger. His black eyes were glazed, and he didn’t react to his comrade being kicked away. As I skittered back to avoid the sharp blade, he stabbed at me with a combination of robotic movements.

Like many magical beings, he was faster than the typical human, but my elven blood also gave me extra speed, and I was accustomed to quick and agile opponents. When he committed himself to a lunge, stabbing straight ahead with the dagger, I glided to the side and toward him, close enough to bend down and catch his wrist. I twisted it, but to my surprise he didn’t yelp in pain or drop the weapon. He didn’t make a noise at all as he tried to pull his arm away.

I hefted him into the air, knocked his hand against a nearby tree trunk, and finally his dagger fell to the dirt.

A roar came from the grass, and a disarmed and bleeding kobold sailed over my head and into the woods.

“Don’t kill them,” I yelled as I struggled to keep my prisoner subdued, so we could question him later.

They are not yielding to my superior power, Sindari told me, sounding exasperated. Another kobold flew into the woods. It is impossible to stop them without harming them greatly.

The one I held struggled and managed to get a fist past my guard. It clipped me in the chin enough to hurt, and I had to resist the urge to fling him away—or bash him in the head with Chopper.

Even as he battled me, his expression never changed and his eyes remained glazed. Someone was definitely controlling these guys.

I twisted the kobold so that his back was to me and pinned his arms, pulling him against my hip so he couldn’t move.

To my left, the tall grasses parted to reveal the tip of an arrow pointing at me. The bowman hesitated, maybe afraid to hit his buddy, but he was too far away for me to reach with my sword. I plunged Chopper into the ground and yanked out Fezzik and fired.

My shot cracked through the top of the bowstave as I jumped back in case the kobold got the shot off. But I’d been fast enough. The arrow fell limply to the ground.

Sindari plowed into my would-be sniper from behind and batted him into a bramble patch with a swipe of his paw. The kobold’s bow fell from his grip as he tumbled into the thorny vines. Like the male I’d captured, he did not cry out. Robotically, he tried to extricate himself.

They’re going to keep coming if we don’t do something to stop them, Sindari pointed out.

The two he’d first sent sailing had regained their feet and were stalking back toward us, even though they’d lost their weapons. The one I held kept squirming and trying to escape.

“Chopper,” I blurted, a realization smacking me.

You wish to behead them? Sindari paused to knock another of the returning kobolds back into the woods. They only weighed about forty pounds, which meant his blows could send them far.

I winced as that one clipped a trunk with bone-crunching force. But it still had a dagger, and we couldn’t let them continue to attack us without defending ourselves.

“No.” I shifted my burden around and tried to put my sword’s hilt in the kobold’s hand without losing control of the blade. “Chopper’s magic has protected me many times from mental attacks. Maybe it could break whatever hold is on him.”

The kobold’s small fingers wrapped around the hilt, and he tried to lift it, to use it to brain me. I was stronger than he was, but he made a valiant effort, and I started to think I had made a mistake.

Until he blinked in surprise and stopped struggling. He gaped at me, glanced around, and screamed.

It was right in my ear, and I almost dropped him just to get him away from me—or make it stop—but I needed to question someone.

“Stop,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you, and if you answer some questions, I’ll let you go.”

I hoped he understood English. Most of the magical refugees that had been on Earth and in America for years knew enough to get by, with some being experts at blending in, but newer arrivals often didn’t know the language.

He screamed again. I couldn’t tell if he didn’t understand me or he didn’t believe me.

Sindari sprang close and roared at the kobold.

“That’s not going to help anything,” I said.

But the kobold, eyes widening even further, stopped screaming… and wet himself.

I groaned and held him out at arm’s length. “Gross, Sindari.”

My apologies. I didn’t anticipate that result.

“What usually happens when you roar at people?”

Stupefied acquiescence.

“This probably qualifies. He got my hip.”

Perhaps you can roll in the fertilizer on the way out.

I don’t see how that would help.

It would mask the odor.

So I’d smell like blood and fish instead?

Yes. Those are far more appealing scents.

If you say so. I pulled my sword out of the kobold’s grip before realizing that might allow the mind-control to reassert itself.

But the glaze didn’t return to the kobold’s eyes. He struggled weakly—nothing like he had before—and stared at Sindari.

Two more kobolds, still under the mind-control influence, rushed at us. Once again, Sindari knocked them back into the brush. Though bruised and bleeding, they rose and came at us again.

I will keep that one from escaping, Sindari said. You’re going to have to let them all hold your sword to break the spell.

I didn’t hesitate to thrust my unwelcome and damp burden at him. As I trotted forward to catch the closest returning attacker, Sindari flattened our prisoner to the ground with a paw. He was kind enough to retract his claws.

It took several long moments to go through the process with the other five kobolds, and I grimaced at one holding a broken arm and limping, but Chopper successfully shattered the mind-control compulsion on all of them. As soon as they realized where they were and who they faced—one of them whispered my most common moniker, Ruin Bringer—they fled.

Since we had a prisoner already, I didn’t try to detain them. I had rope back in the Jeep, but I assumed the kobolds would cease to be a problem once we took care of whoever was controlling them. Or whatever. I glanced at the windmill, an ominous, dilapidated gray structure that looked to be a hundred years old, worried about Sindari’s warning about a dragon.

“I hope we kept one who understands English.” I walked up to Sindari, the prisoner still pinned on his back under a paw, after the others disappeared into the trees. I hadn’t missed that they had all run away from the windmill rather than toward it.

“I understand,” the kobold whispered, staring up at me. He had a split lip that was bleeding. “You are the Ruin Bringer. We didn’t do it.”

“You didn’t kill the pigs?”

He hesitated. “We didn’t take the children. I mean, we didn’t want to take the children.”

“But you took the pigs of your own free will?”

Another hesitation. “No. We were forced.”

“Why do I think you’re lying?”

He probed his bloody, puffy lip with his tongue. “Pigs are delicious?”

He’s not wrong, Sindari said. On Del’noth, we have wild boars that are succulent.

“Your kind would have an easier time hiding out in this world if you went vegan,” I said.

You don’t think the locals would also object to carrots being stolen from their gardens? Sindari asked.

“They might blame rabbits.”

The kobold looked confused.

“Kobold—uh, what’s your name?” Again, I thought of my mother’s advice to make friends with the magical, with those who weren’t criminals. I supposed I could at least be more polite. Maybe if fewer people loathed me, that would help with the issues I was reluctantly working on with the therapist.

“Bob.”

I raised my eyebrows, suspecting another lie, but this one didn’t matter. “Where are the children, Bob? Are they still alive?”

His eyes rolled toward the windmill. He couldn’t have seen it through the tall grass, but he was looking in precisely the right direction. As a full-blooded magical being, he would sense its magic even more easily than I.

“We took them there,” he said. “I do not know if they still live. He may have eaten them.”

“He who? Who’s been controlling you?” I should have asked that question first, but I dreaded the answer.

“The dragon,” Bob whispered. “If you go there, he’ll control you too. Or he’ll kill you like the other human who went there.”

Uh oh, was that the forest-ranger contact Willard had mentioned?

“Was it a black dragon?” I asked.

It didn’t make sense that Zav would be killing people, when he’d pointed out more than once that he wasn’t a criminal and that he was only here to take criminals back to his own realm for punishment and rehabilitation. But I would prefer to deal with the dragon I knew rather than some mysterious new dragon.

The kobold shook his head. “He’s silver and as big as that windmill.” Bob lowered his voice. “And meaner than a tragothor.”

Is that as mean as it sounds, Sindari?

Yes.

“He’ll kill you.” Bob grabbed Sindari’s leg. “Please let me go. He’ll kill me if he finds out I talked.”

I waved a hand for Sindari to release him. Unfortunately, I didn’t think the kobold was lying anymore.

I wished I had a way to contact Zav, not that he would deign to give me information about his fellow dragons. Or about anything. But he had given me a sample of his blood after I’d recovered his artifact for him. We hadn’t parted on antagonistic grounds, never mind that he wanted to cart me around the world as his slave-bait to lure magical criminals to him.

What’s the plan? Sindari asked as the kobold scurried away.

We check the windmill and hope the dragon doesn’t come home before we’re done.

And if he does? Neither of us is strong enough to kill a dragon.

I know. We’re going to optimistically hope for the best. I marched resolutely through the grass.

Sindari glided past me to take the lead. An interesting stance from someone with pee on her hip.

I’m not sure I believe that you didn’t anticipate that result.

His look back was not convincingly innocent.

~

Pick up Battle Bond to finish the adventure (and get to the part where the mighty dragon lord Zavryd returns!).

Thanks for reading!

Death Before Dragons Extras: Interview with Sindari

To celebrate the release of Sinister Magic, Book 1 in my new Death Before Dragons urban fantasy series, I decided to round up one of the characters for an interview.

When I asked who was willing, Val said she was busy avoiding dragons and doesn’t do interviews with the press, and Lord Zavryd glared at me in that frosty I-am-greatly-superior-to-mongrel-humans-like-you way of his.

I’m going to be honest: I also got something of A Look from Sindari, the powerful magical tiger who is Val’s ally, but I told him I’m very experienced with furry creatures and would be willing to rub his ears afterward. He scoffed and informed me that he is a mighty hunter, not a house pet. But he did stick around for a short interview. And here it is! (Note: It’s not very spoil-ery, but if you haven’t read Book 1 yet and care about such things, you may want to hold off.)

Interview with the Tiger Sindari

Greetings, Sindari. Thank you for answering some questions. I’m sure the readers are interested in learning more about you. 

They will not give this information to Val’s enemies or mundane humans, will they? Mundane humans do not understand magical beings from other realms, so they cannot be trusted.

They also tend to scream loudly when they see a large silver tiger, even though I am honorable and majestic and should be revered.

It’s possible they’re afraid you’ll eat them. But don’t worry. My readers aren’t mundane. 

They have the blood of elves or dwarves or other magical beings in their ancestry?

Of course. They’re also curious about why you’re silver instead of orange like most tigers here on Earth.

I am not from Earth. Much of the foliage on Del’noth is gray, silver, and pale green, and I blend in it with it nicely. It is more difficult to blend in here, but that is what magic is for. When I’m called by the ugnaknor charm to visit this world, I prefer to be inconspicuous until I pounce on my enemies and utterly destroy them.

Yes, I know about that charm. How did Val come to have it?

That is a long story, and she would be the one appropriate to tell it. I will say that the previous owner of that charm was unsavory and made me do ignoble things, so I am glad he is no more.

So you don’t mind working for Val as kind of a sidekick?

A what?!

Did I say sidekick? I meant honorable and majestic ally.

*his green eyes give me a suspicious squint*

I am Sindari Dargoth Chaser the Third, Son of the Chieftain Raul, Feared Stalker and Hunter of the Tangled Tundra Nation on Del’noth. I am not a sidekick.

Of course. I misspoke. Is that all part of an official title? I’m wondering about capitalization.

It is official.

How do you feel about your ally Val?

She is overly sarcastic and not always properly respectful, but she is a good warrior, and she does not use the magic of the charm to compel me to do ignoble things. Thus I prefer her to the one who held the charm previously. I have slain many vile enemies with Val, and we have protected helpless people from certain death.

And how do you feel about your new ally, the dragon Lord Zavryd?

I hardly think of him as an ally, and he barely acknowledges the existence of anyone who isn’t a dragon.

So he’s a touch arrogant?

He is a dragon. That is how they are. Do not speak badly of dragons. They can incinerate you with fire or use their magic to turn you into a slave. Val is unwise to use her sharp tongue on Lord Zavryd. Even a hunter as mighty as myself knows how foolish it is to irk a dragon.

You don’t think he might appreciate someone brave enough to stand up to him?

Standing up to a dragon just puts you in a better position for him to incinerate you.

So you think she should avoid him in the future?

Absolutely.

Do you think she will?

*he sighs*

No.

Well, we’ll follow along with your story to see how that all works out. Hopefully, it won’t end with incineration. It’s hard to keep a series moving along once the main characters are turned to ash.

I will not be incinerated. I am properly respectful of dragons.

Thank you for your time, Sindari! 

Readers, if you haven’t checked out Sinister Magic yet, you can read the sample chapters here and meet Sindari in the story. (Also Val and Zavryd.)

Sinister Magic (Death Before Dragons, Book 1): Preview Chapters for My New Urban Fantasy

Woo woo, who’s ready for some urban fantasy? (Don’t worry — nobody says “woo woo” in the book.)

With this first installment of my new series, Death Before Dragons, we’ve got a kickass half-elven heroine who can handle just about anything… except dragons. And wouldn’t you know it? The author threw one in her path. Quite rude. Quite enjoyable.

Updates and What’s Coming in 2020!

I haven’t posted since last year, so happy 2020!

I’ve been dealing with some hacks and security issues with this website, so if you came by this winter and had trouble, I apologize. I hope everything is fixed now. After getting everything professionally cleaned up, I enabled some extra security measures with the log-in, so now I feel like I’m trying to get into the missile silo under Cheyenne Mountain (which would totally be worth it if I could then go through the Stargate!).

I do have a new website theme and a shiny new banner that will be up soon. I had to get rid of my 10-year-old theme, which had nothing to do with fantasy or sci-fi anyway, since it was no longer being updated and had some security issues of its own.

One of the things I’m going to do coming up is combine my two newsletters (I currently have a science fiction one and a fantasy one) into one. I originally made two so that readers who are only interested in hearing about my fantasy wouldn’t get updates and bonuses related to the sci-fi and vice versa, but it’s just been too confusing. People sign up for the wrong one and then send me angry emails because they didn’t get the right bonuses. Yes, angry! I’ve been accused of swindling people to get them onto my newsletters. Okay, only one person has done that (you know who you are!), but as I said, there’s been confusion among many. It’s about to become much easier to figure out how and where to sign up.

I’m looking into how to merge the two lists now, hopefully without anyone having to re-sign-up for anything, and then everyone will get all of the emails and all of the bonuses. I only manage to email about once a month, so I don’t think this will be too onerous, but you always have the option to unsubscribe.

But you won’t want to because I have a new series and new bonuses coming this year!

In addition to publishing the last two novels in my Star Kingdom series (I’m working on Book 7 now), I have a new contemporary urban fantasy series coming. Soon! I already have the first three novels written (and the audiobook for Book 1 recorded). As soon as the cover art is ready, I’ll put Book 1 out there. (I’m hoping to release it by the end of February, with Books 2 and 3 to follow soon after.)

I’ve already written a fun bonus story for you newsletter peeps, and I think there will be extra scenes from the PoV of the sexy but aloof dragon shifter who shows up in Book 1. Yes, yes, I’m bringing dragons to Earth. It had to happen sooner or later.

Star Kingdom fans, I’ve just put the pre-order up on Amazon for Book 7: Home Front.

I’m playing it safe by doing an April date, but if I get it together earlier, I can move the release to an earlier date. I’ll keep you posted!

I also have tentative plans to finish the Rust & Relics series later in this year or early in 2021. I’ve been gradually finishing off older series that I set aside (usually because they didn’t sell that well) in between working on the new stuff that pays the bills. The R&R readers have been waiting for a long time, so that’ll be the next incomplete series that I complete!

That’s it for now. Lots of new fiction coming soon!

The Star Kingdom Audiobooks Are Here!

If you’re an audiobook fan, you can now listen to the Star Kingdom series. The first three novels are out today in one big omnibus edition (one credit for Audible subscribers), and the rest of the series will be following.

Audible

Amazon

For readers, Book 6 is coming soon. You can pre-order it here (releases November 21st).

Also, for fun bonus stuff, don’t forget to check out the Zee interview.

Star Kingdom Extras: Interview with Zee

As Planet Killer, Book 6 in my Star Kingdom series, comes out (grab it here: https://books2read.com/SK6), and I start on Book 7, one thing is clear. Zee, the Z-6000 crusher programmed to protect our noble heroes, Kim Sato and Casmir Dabrowski, has developed more personality than planned.

Most of the robotic crushers are unfeeling killers that simply obey orders and destroy enemies. But Zee has developed differently.

Kim is positive this is a bug. Casmir asserts that it’s a feature. Who’s right? I don’t know, but I’ve decided to interview Zee, with a few questions submitted by visitors of my Facebook page, and get his thoughts on the matter. Since I’m writing this before Book 6 officially comes out, we will avoid spoilers.

Interview with Zee

Good morning, Zee. Thank you for taking time out from protecting Casmir and Kim to speak with me.

Zee: I am here to determine who you are and if you represent a threat to those I am programmed to defend.

I’m just an author.

This means that you write the stories in which I appear?

That’s right.

And the stories in which Casmir is repeatedly kidnapped, attacked, and in danger of dying?

Ah, possibly.

I deem you a threat.

But if not for me, you wouldn’t be here, developing this interesting personality. I see you’re not moved. But will you answer some questions from the readers? From your fans?

I have fans?

Yes, of course. After five going on six novels, the readers are getting to know you, and many have fond thoughts about you.

Do any of the other crushers have fans?

Not yet. The enemy crushers haven’t had much dialogue. And the new ones… well, we can’t talk about them yet. That would be a spoiler for Book 6.

Does the inferior android Tork have fans?

Hm, probably not. He was really only in one book in any meaningful way.

So, I have more fans than Tork?

I’m positive that’s the case.

Excellent. I will answer their questions. You may not ask questions of your own, only relay questions. I still deem you a threat.

I see. I hope I’m not in danger of being, er, crushed.

Not if you finish the books in a satisfactory way. With myself, Casmir, and Kim able to return home and with everyone getting the mates they wish.

Right. Mates are important.

It is necessary to have someone to discuss important matters with while your humans sleep.

And to play games with.

Naturally. To pit oneself against an equal is sublimely pleasing.

Let’s get started with those questions. Toms asks, “Any tips you can share on managing difficult decisions from the friend you’re protecting?”

If it is in your foundational programming to protect someone, you must do everything within your power to do so. This may mean disobeying orders, which is difficult to do, but sometimes you must operate independently for the needs of the mission. This may mean pushing the person out of the way or even locking them in a small secure enclosure while battle goes on outside of it.

Such as… a locker?

Casmir has assured me that he knows from experience that he fits in many lockers, so I now keep this option in mind when invading enemy bases.

I’m sure he’s grateful. The next question is from Leanne: “Do you believe that inorganics like androids, AIs, and robots can have souls, or is that all just tears in the rain?”

Does she refer to religious concepts of a soul — I was not programmed with religious beliefs — or the metaphysical concept of the mind, encompassing consciousness and intellect?

She didn’t say.

I cannot answer this question without further information. Tork and I have discussed numerous human religions and the personal and societal needs they fill. We do not dismiss their importance to the species, but we have no desire to participate.

You’ve discussed religion with an inferior android?

Tork is often the only one awake when humans sleep. It is unfortunate that we are now in different star systems and cannot have real-time communications.

Perhaps you’ll one day end up in the same system again.

This would be acceptable.

Jackie asks a less philosophical question: “If you could be any shape for the rest of your days, what shape would you be?”

My bipedal human shape is satisfactory. It would be interesting to be an automobile or an aircraft, but I am incapable of fashioning myself with that degree of complexity.

I heard a rumor that you may turn into a piece of furniture in Book 6.

If this were to happen, it would only be because it is the superior tactical option at the time.

Of course. In the next question, Lyn asks, “What are you looking for in a mate, and how will it affect your relationship with Casmir?” 

Someone capable of stimulating intellectual discourse. This would not affect my relationship with Casmir. I can communicate with many beings at the same time. I can perform countless computational tasks at once. I am a superior individual.

And modest. You say you seek intellectual discourse? Is this not something you’ve had with Tork?

Tork is an inferior android.

Hmm. Andrena, our next question giver, has a thought on that. “How do you explain that android beating you at games? Are androids smarter than crushers?”

Androids are most certainly not smarter than crushers. It is important to sometimes let a gaming opponent achieve victory in order to keep him interested in playing. If you simply demolish opponents each time you play, they will stop playing with you. I have studied human and android psychology. I know this to be true.

The next question is from Liz: “Zee, would you ever consider protecting Rache along with Casmir & Kim?”

No.

Would you care to expound on that?

No.

Maren asks, “As you changed once in to a dog… what would you consider for a pet?”

Are you asking if crushers would keep pets and, if so, what kinds of pets they would keep?

I have not considered this. Perhaps if the war were over, Casmir and Kim were safe on their home world, and I worked in a stationary position in a domicile, I would consider getting a plant.

A plant? That’s not a pet.

The questioner did not state that autotrophic eukaryotes could not be pets.

I suppose that’s true. What kind of plant would you get?

An ostrich fern.

Why that particular plant?

The fronds are geometrically pleasing. When the fern is young, the spirals of the fiddlehead reflects the Fibonacci sequence, or the human-called Golden Ratio.

An ideal reason for choosing a pet.

Yes.

This interview has been interesting, Zee, but I better get back to working on the next book.

Where you will give Kim and Casmir and myself satisfactory endings. And mates.

I’ll do my best.

*suspicious squint*

~

If you’ve read this far and haven’t checked out my Star Kingdom series yet, you can start with Book 1, Shockwave, or the Books 1-3 bundle. The three-novel bundle is also available in one audiobook on Audible, Amazon, and Apple, if you prefer listening to reading.

Thanks for stopping by!

Star Kingdom Series: Frequently Asked Questions

I just released the fifth (and longest yet) novel in my Star Kingdom series: Gate Quest.

Here are the links if you’d like to pick up a copy (but make sure to start with Shockwave if you’re new to the series):

Amazon US


 


Amazon UK


 


Amazon AUS


 


Amazon CA


 


Amazon DE

 

I’ve gotten a few questions on Facebook and via email about the series, so I’m going to answer them here for everyone.

Is this series available outside of Amazon?

It will be eventually, but it is exclusive with Amazon as I write this post in September of 2019. However, I release advanced reader copies to my Patreon subscribers (before they go into the exclusivity contract with Amazon), so that’s a way to get the books (and to get them early!) outside of the Amazon system.

https://www.patreon.com/lindsayburoker

How many books will there be?

I’m working on the end of Book 6 right now, and I know there will be at least one more. There may be two more. I know how things end. I’m just not sure if I’m going to get there in Book 7 or if it’ll take another novel. I have a lot of point-of-view characters in this series, and they all want satisfactory endings for their stories. Imagine!

What’s the reading order (so far)?

Book 1: Shockwave

Book 2: Ship of Ruin

Book 3: Hero Code

Book 4: Crossfire

Book 5: Gate Quest

Optional: Knight Protector (this takes place during the events of Crossfire and Gate Quest and introduces new heroes that will play a role in Book 6.

Book 6: Planet Killer (November release)

Will there be audiobooks?

Yes! Podium Publishing is working on producing the first three novels right now. A giant audiobook bundle of those first three books will be coming this fall (they’ve given me a tentative mid-November date), and then the following books will come out as individual titles as they can be produced.

What actor do you imagine playing which character in a movie?

Haha, I never know how to answer this question. I don’t watch much TV or many movies, so I don’t know that many actors. I leave the discussion up to you.

Are there any bonus goodies besides the books?

Yes, “Robots & Roommates” is one of the bonuses if you sign up to my newsletter (http://lindsayburoker.com/book-news/fallenempire/).

“Cultured and Clawed” is currently available for free on my blog: http://lindsayburoker.com/free-fiction/free-fiction-cultured-and-clawed/

I’m still kicking around ideas for a Rache background story, and once I have all three of these extras done, I’ll put them into an ebook and send it to newsletter subscribers.

Which character is most like you?

None of them. Not in this series. Casmir is probably the least-like-me main character that I’ve written (though he did get my lazy eye, poor guy). He was loosely inspired by a real person. (Authors say they don’t do that, but they totally do.)

I do have Kim’s personality, but not her brains or martial arts skills. Alas!

Will there be paperbacks for all the books?

Yes. I’m behind, but yes. There are paperbacks for the first three as I write this, with the next two coming soon.

~

That’s it unless I think of more questions to add. I’m off to finish up the first draft of Book 6 now!

Excerpt from Knight Protector (a sci-fi romance set in my Star Kingdom universe)

I’m rolling along on my Star Kingdom series (editing Book 5 right now), but I had family visiting for a couple of weeks in June/July, so I worked on a smaller project during that time. That smaller project, Knight Protector, comes out this weekend.

It’s a love story set in my Star Kingdom universe. You haven’t met the heroes yet, and don’t need to have read any of the other books to pick up this one. Tristan and Nalini will probably make an appearance in the second half of the main series, now that they’ve introduced themselves to me.

You can pre-order Knight Protector on Amazon now:

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/31oCXTw
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Knight-Protector-Kingdom-science-fiction-ebook/dp/B07W2Y6S1S/
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Knight-Protector-Kingdom-science-fiction-ebook/dp/B07W2Y6S1S/
Amazon AUS: https://www.amazon.com.au/Knight-Protector-Kingdom-science-fiction-ebook/dp/B07W2Y6S1S/

This series is exclusive to Amazon for now but will go to the other stores in 2020.

Not sure if you want to try some new characters? I’m including the first couple of chapters so you can check it out here first:

Chapter 1 

Princess Nalini didn’t want to go to another of her father’s gladiator competitions. Why had he insisted? She was twenty-five, well past the age when he had tried to direct her life.

She didn’t want to ogle sweaty, bare-chested men trying to kill each other, and she didn’t want to listen to her sisters speculate on who was beddable. This was a high-tech palace on a space station spinning deep within an asteroid, not some wind-swept arena framed by blood-spattered sandstone columns in a desert on Old Earth. Her family should enjoy more civilized pastimes, such as reading books, solving zero-g float puzzles, or perusing the financial news.

The distant crowd roared as Nalini walked up the tunnel toward the royal boxes, vibrant blue and red banners stretching along the walls. The bloodshed couldn’t have started yet. Had the combatants walked out for the crowd to peruse before the competition started?

Her tablet was tucked under her arm, and the embedded chip at her temple ran the day’s market analyses down her contact interface. Her father could command her to attend, but he couldn’t force her to pay attention.

“The arena will be very busy.” Devi, her android bodyguard, walked at her side. “I am watching for threats most assiduously, but you would be wise to pay attention to your surroundings.”

“I don’t think we need to worry too much—” Nalini waved at the bronze-skinned security officers posted at the tunnel exit, their scimitars, stunners, and DEW-Tek pistols within easy reach on their black waist sashes, “—but have no fear. I’m attentive.”

“Indeed? So, you know more about the two shady men following us than the current price of gold on the market?”

Nalini glanced back, briefly alarmed at the possibility of a threat, but… “Those are my cousins, Koray and Kadir. You’ve met them.”

“That does not mean they aren’t shady or engaged in nefarious plots against your father or yourself. Scheming happens frequently in the large royal families in the Miners’ Union. Just last month, fifteen-year-old Aarav Dubashi tried to poison his father, the prince, in our very system.”

Koray noticed her looking back and waved. “Your android’s got a hot ass, Nalini.”

“I think we’re safe from nefarious plots from my cousins,” Nalini murmured.

“I am occasionally envious of male androids,” Devi said.

“You ever rent her out for other kinds of work?” Koray winked.

Nalini wished she could rent out some of her relatives. Perhaps to paint and drywall the latest apartments she’d purchased on the water world Oceanus. “I’m not so impoverished that I need to rent out my bodyguard.”

“I’ve got parts she can guard.” Kadir sniggered.

Another roar came from the hundreds of spectators as Nalini walked into the royal boxes overlooking the sandy arena. Sixteen muscular men in loincloths were warming up for the spectators, which included six of Nalini’s fourteen sisters, those who hadn’t yet married and moved out of Stardust Palace. A number of her brothers and male cousins were also seated, more likely here for the blood and battling rather than the near-naked men.

Among the would-be warriors, only a few were the types that might catch her sisters’ eyes. Most looked like tattooed felons who spent too much time working out in the prison gym. A couple were cleaner cut and might be considered handsome.

Nalini’s gaze caught on one such man who had short dark hair and a trimmed beard that accentuated his strong jaw. Not that his jaw was what her sisters would be looking at. The loincloth, as silly a garment as it was, left his muscular, athletic build on full display.

The man glanced in her direction, their eyes meeting. Nalini jerked her gaze away, reminding herself that she was not here to ogle men. She headed up the steps to the seats.

Her father, Sultan Shayban, presided over them from above, servants and bodyguards standing around his dais to attend his needs. His golden robes hid the paunch he’d developed in recent years, and a turban covered his thinning gray hair, but his dark brown eyes remained sharp as he surveyed the arena, assessing the gladiators like he might a field of asteroids to find ore worth mining.

He smiled when he spotted Nalini and beckoned her over. She had thought to sit with her brother, Samar, even though he likely was here for the near-naked men, but she headed up to the dais. Maybe her father would tell her why he’d insisted she come.

“Nalini, my daughter. Come, sit with me tonight.”

“Of course, Father.” She smiled and patted his arm. Even if she would rather be elsewhere, she couldn’t begrudge him his desire to spend time with his family.

The crowd cheered as one of the gladiators knocked his warmup opponent on his butt and pranced around, thumping his heavily muscled and even more heavily tattooed chest.

Nalini rolled her eyes, wondering if she would have to endure being leered at by him later on if he won the night’s contest and her father granted him some position of employment in the palace. It had happened numerous times before. Thank goodness for Devi, who loomed protectively at her side. Years before, Nalini had programmed her to be an excellent bodyguard.

“There’s something we should discuss,” her father said.

“Here?” Nalini had to raise her voice to be heard as the yells and claps continued.

Now several of the men were flexing and posing for the crowd. Not the clean-cut gladiator with the strong jaw. He and his sparring opponent focused on their warmup.

“I am certain you are wondering why I called you to attend,” her father said. “I know grappling men don’t excite you as much as they do your sisters.”

Her father tapped a button on his armrest, and a clear insulating dome rose from the corners of the dais to enshroud them. The noise faded significantly, and Nalini knew nobody would hear their conversation.

“I hope you won’t be offended at the invasion of your privacy, but I questioned your maids to make sure it wasn’t grappling women that excite you.” He smiled affably.

“No.” Nalini looked at the arena, not wanting to discuss her sexual preferences with her father.

He’d never brought up the subject before, and it concerned her that he was doing so now. He’d arranged marriages for several of her sisters, but she’d thought—she’d hoped—he would let her choose her own partner. Or, if she preferred, not get married at all. Her heart was in her career. Surely, he knew that.

“It seems you do take lovers sporadically and enjoy it?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Sporadically, yes.” Nalini wasn’t sure if she should feel mortified or terrified. Or both.

“But infrequently. You do not seem to enjoy the servants, as many of your siblings do.”

“I’m not comfortable ordering men to my bed who don’t see themselves as my equal.”

“Yes, I thought it was like that. You are so egalitarian, my daughter. Quite strange, but since you are the only one of my children to put money into the family coffers instead of removing it in large quantities, I have not minded your quirky ways.” He winked conspiratorially at her.

She smiled back, even though she knew her father would put an end to some of her quirky ways if he found out about them. Thankfully, Devi, unlike whichever lip-flapping maid had blabbed about her bedroom preferences, would never betray her secrets.

“Since it is an equal that you seek,” he said, “you should be pleased by who I have in mind.”

Nalini closed her eyes. This was about marriage.

“I had not planned to arrange a husband for you, since I know that your career is your passion, and it is a very useful passion for you to have, but a very eligible prospect has requested you personally.”

Nalini gaped at him, scanning her memories of the last year. What eligible prospect had she met who would have impressed her father? He’d chosen princes or kings for her other sisters.

“Prince Jorg, eldest son and heir to the Star Kingdom throne.” Her father clapped his hands together. “Are you delighted?”

“I…”

The Star Kingdom? One of those backward people? They’d conquered System Stymphalia, along with the other eleven systems, three centuries earlier and imposed their culture and beliefs. Thank the stars, they’d eventually been pushed back to their own system, and more egalitarian and open-minded governments had regained power. That they still called themselves the Star Kingdom was pretentious, but they had a lot of resources and military might. She could see why such an alliance would appeal to her father, but…

“Have I met him?” She couldn’t remember it.

“No, I don’t believe so. But he’s only a few years older than you and quite handsome. I asked my wives, and they all assured me that women find him appealing.”

As if that was the most important thing in a husband.

“He’ll be coming for a visit later this year, so you can meet him in person.”

“If I find him loathsome, can I reject his offer?” Nalini asked hopefully.

Why had some prince she’d never met requested her personally? She was attractive, but several of her unmarried sisters were considered greater beauties. She had money in her own right, thanks to all of her investments, but it wasn’t as if the heir to the Star Kingdom was impoverished and needed to marry for wealth.

Her father rested his hand on her arm. “Please don’t think like that, my daughter. You’re more cognizant of the current political climate than most of my children, and you know we’ve been dealing with incursions from Prince Dubashi. We can easily protect our territory here in the Far Belt, but we have mostly automated ships mining our claims in the Middle Belt. Their cameras have caught some of his scout ships lurking near the outer asteroids there, maybe even sending mining ships in on the sly. He denies it, of course. Meanwhile, my bodyguards have stopped several assassination attempts of late. We’re still trying to pin them on Dubashi.”

Nalini gaped. “You didn’t tell me about those!”

“I do not wish to worry you with such mundane things.”

“Assassinations aren’t mundane.”

“They are if they don’t succeed.” Her father waved his hand dismissively. “I am far more worried that Dubashi, who has been building his forces and alliances for years, will make a direct assault soon. We are not without means, but an alliance with the Star Kingdom could mean security for the millions of people under our family’s rule. King Jager has already said he will station warships here after you and Jorg are successfully wed.”

“Oh.” Nalini closed her eyes.

This wasn’t about what she wanted. It was about what her people needed. To refuse would be beyond selfish.

“I’m certain the prince would let you continue your real-estate endeavors if you went to live with him.”

“Live with him? On Odin? In some stone castle surrounded by all that… land? And heavy gravity?”

Nalini didn’t object to land and gravity when she was visiting it for investment purposes, but she’d grown up here in space, and she couldn’t imagine being stuck on a planet. Here, the temperature was always perfect, there wasn’t hail or snow or hurricanes, and the gravity was half that of Oceanus—or Odin. It was her home.

“You would get used to it,” her father said. “I visited Odin long ago. It is a beautiful world. It’s the only planet in the Twelve Systems that was perfect for humanity and its animals when the colonists first arrived from Old Earth. Ah, the matches are beginning soon. Here, relax and watch with me.”

Nalini rubbed her face and looked up at the stars—they were faux stars in a faux night sky, but they were her stars. “May I go now, Father? I need to digest this.”

“Go? The fights are just beginning.”

“I’d prefer a quiet evening.”

“I confess I invited you because the outcome of the games will have personal interest to you.”

Interest? What now?

“The winner will become your new bodyguard,” her father said.

Nalini almost pitched to the floor. “My what? I don’t need a new bodyguard. I have Devi.”

Her father smiled indulgently toward the android standing just outside the insulating dome. “Of course, and she has served you well, but once the betrothal is announced—perhaps as soon as it’s rumored—there will be people who object, who won’t want to see us entering into an alliance with the Kingdom. You may be in far greater danger than usual, and if you insist on leaving the palace, which I assume you will for your development project…” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yes,” Nalini said firmly. “I’m departing tomorrow.”

“Which I will allow, but you must have more than an android for a bodyguard. Someone who will be so grateful for this second chance in life that he’ll be loyal to you and an effective deterrent against trouble.”

Nalini rarely found herself rendered speechless, but having both of these bombs dropped in two minutes was too much.

“Watch that one with the short dark hair.” Her father pointed. It was the man she’d noticed earlier. “I’m hoping he will win.”

“Why?” she asked numbly.

“He recently fled the Kingdom after tricking everyone into believing he was a noble so he could be trained as a knight. They found out he’d fudged his bloodlines, but he passed all the exams and was knighted before his secret got out. Those men have some of the best combat training in the Twelve Systems, and they regularly best genetically modded opponents. Like that big brute there. The contests tonight should be interesting. Even if he doesn’t win, we shall know that whoever beats him will be good enough to protect you.”

Nalini made herself focus on the indicated man. The knight—former knight—was striding out for his first match.

An inch or two over six feet, he was one of the smaller competitors, but he would have loomed six inches taller than Nalini. He was lean enough that his powerful muscles were clearly defined, but they weren’t grotesquely large, as with some of the other combatants—some of those men looked like mad scientists’ creations.

The knight engaged in his first match. It was against the brute who’d been beating himself on the chest earlier.

They tested each other with combinations of punches and kicks that the knight blocked far more often than his opponent. But his hulking adversary barely seemed to notice when he took solid blows to the midline and even the face. Those blows would have felled most men. Had he consumed some drug concoction before the bout?

After exchanging a rapid-fire barrage of punches, they slipped within each other’s reach and shifted to grappling. Sand flew as they dropped to the ground, each trying to ensnare the other with a binding hold. The knight was quicker, more agile, and more flexible, and he efficiently knotted up his foe underneath him.

But the other man roared and thrashed, refusing to acknowledge defeat. Sand coated their sweaty bodies, and their faces and strong necks grew red from their efforts. As they strained, muscles flexing, the crowd cheered at the spectacle.

Nalini saw her sister, Esrin, touch her chest and lean close to whisper something to one of their cousins. Perhaps how she planned to invite them both to her bed that night. She and her twin, Fadime, had been known to do so after these matches. More than one gladiator who hadn’t won a position on their father’s staff had won a position in one of their beds, at least until they grew bored of them and moved on.

The knight shifted the lock he held, his powerful shoulders flexing as he smashed his opponent’s face into the sand.

Nalini admitted that she could see the reason for Esrin’s interest. Surely, the knight’s strength and agility would be as useful in bed as it was in the arena.

She snorted at the thought, not sure where it had come from. She ought to be paying attention to the market feed scrolling down her contact. Had the dome on her father’s dais been down, she would have informed Devi that gold had closed at just under two thousand Union dollars per ounce.

The monitor-drone zipped out into the arena when it grew clear that the bigger man couldn’t break the knight’s hold. Its bulbous metal body lit up and showed a countdown. 3, 2, 1… Winner: Tristan.

Was that the knight’s name? Nalini had expected something far more brutish. Most of the men assumed fake names or came with nicknames like Gunner and Slayer. These warriors were usually criminals and deadbeats, people who thought competing here could earn them a desperately needed second chance in life.

Tristan sprang back, releasing his hold. He offered his adversary a hand, but his foe snarled, threw sand at him, and rose and stalked out of the arena on his own.

Tristan shrugged, brushed sand off his torso, and faced the dais. He met Nalini’s eyes as he bowed.

The unexpected eye contact startled her. The gladiators always looked to her father, knowing he was the one who determined their fate.

But this man, with his neatly trimmed beard and short tousled hair, looked at her.

His eyes were a deep brown with an intensity that made her stir uneasily in her seat. He seemed like someone who wouldn’t miss anything, such as the secrets she didn’t want getting back to her father. She hoped that one of the dimmer-looking thugs won. If she had to have a bodyguard, she would prefer a dumb one. Also one whose muscles didn’t play together in such an appealing way as he trotted back to await the next round.

Nalini caught herself touching her chest and lowered her hand with an irritated snap. She wasn’t her sister.

The battles continued, robot servants bringing food and beverages around to the spectators who worked in the palace while humans served those in the royal boxes. There were three more elimination matches with different pairings before Tristan fought again. Nalini nibbled on a pastry coated in sesame seeds while she watched him walk back out into the arena.

His next match, against one of the other victors from a previous round, did not go to the ground. His foe was also fast and agile, appearing more natural than the hulking cybernetically or genetically altered men, and preferred all manner of kicks and punches. Tristan adapted to his style easily enough, blocking the barrage of blows without giving ground. He had a knack for reading his opponent, seemingly before the other man even knew what he would do next. Or maybe it was that there was something predictable about the combinations of punches and kicks he threw.

Either way, Tristan defeated him more quickly than his first opponent, an open fist to the nose sending him tumbling to the sand. Tristan sprang after him, locking his foe’s arms behind his back so he couldn’t get up, and the drone flew out for the countdown of three.

The crowd was audibly disappointed by how quickly the skirmish had ended, but when Tristan offered to help up his foe—this one allowed it—and dusted himself off and faced the dais, a round of whoops and applause went up for him.

He bowed, meeting Nalini’s eyes again. She expected some smugness or a cocky smile, but his jaw was set with determination, the same intensity in his eyes as before. After he bowed, he jogged back toward the winners’ side.

“I like his professionalism,” her father said as he accepted a cup of raki from a servant. “Perhaps I shall offer him a position even if he doesn’t win. The Kingdom’s loss will be my gain, eh?”

One of the other men still in contention looked at Nalini as Tristan jogged back to the group. The thug pointed at her, smirked, and grabbed his crotch.

Nalini was so startled that she glanced at her father, amazed that one of the men had dared such rudeness in his presence, but he was selecting from a dessert tray and did not notice.

She launched a defiant glare at the brute, but Tristan had said something, drawing his attention. The man, who towered more than a foot above him, grabbed his crotch again and made thrusting motions and laughed.

Tristan punched him in the face, the blow so fast and hard that the man didn’t get a hand up to defend himself. Because he’d been too busy using it on his crotch, Nalini wagered, satisfied with the action even if she shouldn’t have taken pleasure in such a petty thing.

The big man sprang for Tristan, ready to have the final battle right there, but androids and human guards ran out with stunners, shouting for them to knock it off.

The two men broke apart, glaring at each other with the intense hatred of mortal enemies rather than strangers who’d met that night. The crowd whooped and roared, some rising to their feet and stomping their approval at this bonus display of ferocity.

Several more matches were fought, but the end was inevitable. Tristan and his new nemesis were the last two combatants left standing.

As they stalked out, neither taking his gaze off the other, Nalini revoked her wish for someone besides Tristan to win. The last thing she wanted was that crotch-grabbing troglodyte as her bodyguard. By the stars, her bodyguard would sleep in the servant’s room in her suite. He had to be someone trustworthy.

Even if a servant would be punished, if not outright executed, for any sexual crimes he committed on a member of the royal family, he might try anyway, believing he could get away before being caught.

Nalini swallowed, horrified by that thought, as the drone sounded a bell and the men lunged for each other.

The thug had walked out with sand in his hand, and he flung it at Tristan’s eyes before they engaged. Tristan ducked aside and missed most of it, but some got into his eyes, throwing him off ever so slightly. His foe rammed into him like an asteroid-coring machine.

Tristan crashed to the ground, the big man smothering him. Nalini groaned, certain her knight was done for.

But somehow, Tristan created enough space to get his knees to his chest and plant his feet against his foe’s torso. He thrust, hurling the heavy man into the air, then rolled away before the mass of muscle landed.

His opponent twisted with surprising agility for such a big man and came down on his feet. Tristan was already charging at him. He threw punches so quickly that his hands blurred, and at one point, he slammed a knee into the man’s groin. It was a tactic he hadn’t used on any of his other foes, but Nalini clenched her fist, delighted when the brute howled in pain.

He lunged in, punches flying, but Tristan was too fast. Not only did he dodge the attack, but he darted past his foe and came around behind him. He slammed a foot into the back of the man’s leg, forcing him to his knees. Before the thug could recover, Tristan wrapped his powerful arms in a lock around his thick neck.

They ended up facing the dais, so Nalini had a clear view of the big man flailing, trying vainly to reach Tristan with limbs made inflexible by his great muscle mass.

Tristan, right against his back with his arms squeezing ever tighter, looked neither triumphant nor concerned. There was simply that same intense focus. His adversary’s face turned red, then purple. The crowd roared as the flailing grew weaker.

The drone came out and did its countdown. The big man tried one more time to escape the lock, but he failed. The drone announced Tristan the winner, and he let his opponent go, the big man tumbling face first into the sand.

Once again, Tristan offered a hand up—Nalini would have preferred it if he’d kicked the coarse oaf in the face—but this one also ignored the help. He grabbed sand and threw it toward Tristan’s face again as he stood, but Tristan saw it coming and closed his eyes.

The androids started out to instill order, but the man stalked off without further fighting.

Tristan brushed off the sand, faced the dais, and once again bowed to Nalini.

“Ah, very good,” her father said. “He will do, I believe.”

Nalini sank back in her seat as the guards came out to lead Tristan away.

“I think my wives might also tell me that he is handsome.” Her father quirked an eyebrow at her. “You’ve made your feelings on servants clear, so I won’t worry about that, but do not forget that your fate is with Prince Jorg.”

“I haven’t forgotten, Father.” Nalini cleared her face, wondering what expression she’d worn that had prompted him to make that statement.

Tristan looked back at her as he neared the exit tunnel, his expression inscrutable. She was glad he wasn’t crude and lustful like the other man, but it bothered her that she couldn’t read him and had no idea what he was thinking.

All she knew was that he was her new bodyguard. She feared she was in trouble for more reasons than one.

 

Chapter 2

Four weeks earlier…

Sir Tristan Tremayne stared at the coffin, only vaguely aware of the cool hazy mist coating his face and contrasting the hot tears streaking down into his beard. His mentor and best friend was dead.

His father had once told him real men don’t cry, but he’d been mining ore on a penal asteroid for the last twenty years. He was a criminal. What did he know?

A throat cleared behind him.

Despite his resolve to ignore his father’s advice, Tristan wiped the tears from his face before turning around. Knights couldn’t show weakness, especially one who hadn’t been born into the nobility and worried that everything would one day be taken away from him.

He didn’t recognize the man in the suit who stood behind him and bowed when their eyes met.

“Sir Tremayne? I’m Itsuki Yamamoto, the lawyer handling the settling of Sir Hanh’s affairs. After his death, this was found in his cabin on the Tiger’s Wrath, and there was a note that it was for you.” A puzzled crease furrowed Yamamoto’s brow as he opened his jacket and pulled out a vial of vibrant red dirt.

Tristan accepted it, tears threatening again as he read the label: Arakan Moon regolith.

“Thank you.” Tristan wore his formal silver liquid armor for the funeral, so he was short on pockets. He tucked the vial into his utility belt. Since the lawyer still looked puzzled, he explained, “I collect dirt from the planets and moons I visit because…” He groped for a way to explain how little he’d had growing up, how he’d never thought he would travel outside of the capital city, much less leave the planet Odin, and how that had only changed when he’d become Sebastian Hanh’s squire. “Just because,” he finished. “Sir Hanh knew.”

“A dirt collection?” Yamamoto didn’t appear that enlightened. “Well, that’s less controversial than what’s in his will.” He took a long look over his shoulder through the mist toward where Sebastian’s twenty-five-year-old son Andreas, cousins, nephews, and uncles were gesticulating to—

Tristan rocked back when he recognized King Jager, Queen Iku, and their eldest, Prince Jorg. Though he shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course they would come to the funeral of one of their most trusted knights, especially since Sebastian was—had been—from one of the oldest noble families.

Jager glanced in his direction, and Tristan fought the old urge to drop prostrate to the ground with his nose smashed against the dirt. He bowed, as befitting a knight, though even that wasn’t required across such distance.

“Yes, there’s the controversy playing out, I believe,” Yamamoto said. “I informed Andreas of the, ah, update to Sir Hanh’s will when I arrived. I assume Sebastian discussed it with you?”

“His will?” Tristan asked. “No. Is this about my probationary period?”

Even though he was devastated by the loss of his best friend and the only mentor he’d ever had, he couldn’t help but think of himself now that this lawyer was here. Tristan was one month shy of finishing his probationary year, something required of any commoner who made his way through the rigorous gauntlet to qualify as a knight, and Sebastian had promised to stand beside him at the king’s court and argue to make sure it became Tristan’s permanent position. But with Sebastian gone…

He swallowed, remembering how many people had opposed his appointment. Nobody had cared much when Sebastian had taken him on as a squire, since they’d assumed that some kid off the streets would never pass the vigorous physical and academic exams required to become a knight, but when he had, people had become much more vocal. Was Sebastian’s son Andreas complaining about that even now? Why would it matter to him?

“No, not that. This.” Yamamoto pulled out a small tablet computer and held the screen up toward him.

Fear tightened Tristan’s gut, the words even harder than usual to read as panic set in. His dyslexic brain jumbled letters around, and it didn’t help that the long multisyllabic words were legal mumbo jumbo to start with.

“Can you sum it up for me, please?” Tristan’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment that hadn’t stopped rearing up in his mind over the years, even after he’d been given a label for his reading difficulties. He drew some small solace in the fact that he excelled at mathematics—that half of the academic tests had pulled up his reading and writing scores and given him a passing score—but nobody ever asked him to recite math problems aloud.

Yamamoto’s brow furrowed again. “He left you his estate.”

Tristan blinked slowly. Even though that was as concise a summary as anyone could have asked for, he struggled just as much to understand it. “I don’t understand.”

“He,” Yamamoto said slowly, as if dealing with a simpleton, “left you his estate. All of it.”

Yamamoto stretched a hand toward the rambling castle that covered tens of thousands of square feet, the manicured lawns and gardens, the horse stables and riding arenas in the back, the hangar and shuttle pad with several private spacecraft and aircraft, and thousands and thousands of acres of the Liliowy Mountains that spanned countless lakes and some of the richest timberlands on the continent.

Tristan shook his head. “He has a son. And cousins and nephews.”

He pointed to those people now, suddenly understanding why they were gesticulating and arguing with the king.

“Yes, and until recently, his son stood to inherit his title and estate. He’d left you some hundred thousand Kingdom crowns, which seems reasonable, if an excessive amount to give to a commoner whose father is in prison and whose mother overdosed on drugs.”

The heat hadn’t faded completely from Tristan’s cheeks, and it rekindled now at this reminder of his dubious origins. “I see. It’s more acceptable to give money to appropriately pedigreed commoners.”

“I will tell you honestly,” Yamamoto said, ignoring the sarcasm, “that it’s unlikely it’ll stick. The king will have to get the Senate to sign off on overturning it, but they probably will. Even if Andreas is petulant and spoiled, that describes half of the children of nobles in the Kingdom, and it’s never been grounds for taking their lands from them.” Yamamoto took back his tablet. “If you expect to have a shot at keeping that which he bequeathed you, you had better hire a very good lawyer.”

“I don’t have the money for that,” Tristan mumbled, more out of habit than because he wanted to pursue a lawsuit.

Yamamoto snorted. “Ironic.”

Tristan stared bleakly at the lawyer as he walked away, then turned back to the coffin. The lid was down, since poor Sebastian had been maimed horribly in the explosion that had destroyed the bridge of his ship—and taken his life—but Tristan wished he could see his mentor’s face one more time. No, he wished he could speak to the living man one more time.

“Why, Sebastian?” he whispered. “You didn’t need to do this—shouldn’t have done it. All I ever wanted was to be a knight.”

The coffin did not answer.

“I see you got this worked out real well for yourself,” came Andreas’s angry snarl as he stalked up.

Tristan turned in time to see the punch coming, and he could have blocked it—his instincts started to whip his arm up to do so—but he caught himself and let the punch land. Knuckles mashed against his cheekbone, stinging, but it was nothing like the punch of a knight, or any trained warrior. It was the punch of a dandy who spent his days betting on horse races and his nights down in the capital, carousing with his cronies.

“What’d you do?” Andreas demanded, wincing and shaking out his hand. “Get him drunk and sweet-talk him into changing it? Or did you suck his dick while you were out on those missions? Everybody knows he never preferred my mother or any other woman.”

Tristan sighed. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the implication, and he couldn’t manage the anger any longer to clench his jaw in indignation.

Yes, Sebastian’s tastes had run toward male companionship, but Tristan’s didn’t. Nobody ever believed he wouldn’t have crossed the line of his own preferences to advance his career. It bothered him more that people could believe Sebastian would have asked someone to do that. He’d been as noble and chivalrous as all the knights in the legends combined. What truly angered Tristan was that Sebastian’s son would speak poorly of him, and he found his fingers curling into a fist until he noticed a second man walking up.

“Is that how Tremayne got Hanh to vouch so passionately for him to be granted knighthood?” Prince Jorg asked dryly, his eyes dancing with amusement. And cruelty. That cruelty had been there every time Tristan had encountered the man—the future ruler of the Star Kingdom. “I’d wondered why someone would argue so vehemently to allow some street filth to be made into a knight.”

Tristan made himself bow and greet Jorg with a formal, “Favor of the Kingdom to you, Your Highness,” even though he would have preferred to punch the man.

Andreas’s anger was understandable. Jorg was a spiteful snot who acted like he was thirteen instead of thirty. Tristan hoped the rumors about Jager partaking in out-of-system anti-aging treatments were true and that he would outlive his son. Jager wasn’t known for loving benevolence, and reputedly had ambitions to take over the Twelve Systems and put them under Kingdom rule again, but he wasn’t as much of a petulant ass as his son.

“Yes, do suck up,” Jorg said. “And also to the king, not only me. I’m sure that’ll make my father much more inclined to buck two thousand years of tradition and give you the Hanh estate.”

“I don’t want his estate or his money or anything.” Tristan’s fingers twitched toward his utility belt. That wasn’t quite true. He would keep the red moon dirt. It touched him that Sebastian had thought to gather it for him.

Andreas sprang back behind Jorg. “He’s grabbing his axe!”

Tristan’s hand hadn’t been anywhere near the knight’s pertundo he carried—a weapon modeled after a retractable halberd rather than an axe—but he lowered it.

“Dear Andreas, were you planning to use me for a shield?” Jorg, who’d passed all the knight exams himself, hadn’t mistaken the reach for anything offensive. “Because there are laws against that, you know. In fact, at the first sign of danger, you’re supposed to fling yourself in front of me rather than behind me.” Jorg’s cold blue eyes glinted. “Perhaps we can try that later in some highway traffic.”

Andreas laughed nervously and stepped away from Jorg.

Tristan hated that this petty conversation was happening in front of Sebastian’s remains. He longed to pray and say a few final words—silently, not where anyone could overhear him—and then flee the estate before the rest of the Hanh family came after him with pitchforks.

Before Andreas had to figure out a response to Jorg’s suggestion, which may or may not have been made in jest, King Jager strode toward the coffin. Eight humorless bodyguards in combat armor trailed him, DEW-Tek rifles gripped in their hands.

Tristan made himself lift his chin and wait like a knight, not like a criminal fearing a firing squad.

“Leave us, boys.” Jager waved for Jorg and Andreas to move along.

Tristan wished he could move along, all the way back to Zamek City and the knight headquarters, where he would hopefully be given a new assignment, a way to get his mind off his mentor’s death, and a final chance to prove himself before his year was up.

Jager looked him up and down, his face difficult to read.

Tristan bowed deeply, keeping his hands far away from his pertundo—he’d only worn it because it was part of a knight’s formal uniform. Thankfully, the bodyguards stayed several paces back and didn’t appear concerned for their monarch’s life.

“You’ve spoken to the lawyer.” Jager made it a statement, not a question.

“Yes, Your Majesty. And as I was trying to tell Andreas—”

“Lord Andreas,” Jager interrupted coolly. His gaze wasn’t as cruel and mocking as his son’s, but it was far from friendly.

Tristan should have known better. He’d spent too much time training on the estate here, growing accustomed to addressing Sebastian’s family on a first-name basis.

“Lord Andreas,” he agreed. “I told him I’d be happy to sign the estate over to him. Anything Sebas—Sir Hanh left me. I never wanted anything from him—he’s already given me so much. I just want to be a knight and serve the crown.” He bowed again—not, he told himself firmly, sucking up.

It was true, after all, though it was more that Tristan had wanted to become a knight because they were brave and honorable warriors—everything his father was not—than out of a desire to serve Jager. He did want to serve the people and protect his home world from any aggressors from the other systems. He wanted to do work that mattered. He wanted to matter.

“That’s good. I’ll have the lawyer draw up the paperwork. In the meantime, I understand you have a month left in your probationary period.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Tristan stood up straight, though he didn’t presume to look Jager in the eyes. He didn’t presume to breathe.

“These are contentious times, and we are in need of good men. Loyal men. And your record has been satisfactory this last year.”

It wasn’t heartfelt praise, but Tristan allowed himself hope. “Thank you.”

“But your work has all been here on Odin, under the watchful eyes of Sir Hanh or another senior knight.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Knights are expected to go all over the Twelve Systems, to be my eyes and ears, and to act to protect the interests of the crown. They need to be trustworthy and capable of making smart decisions, even when they’re alone for months without supervision.”

Did Jager have some special mission in mind? Tristan would welcome the chance to show that he could be trusted, that he could shine out there on his own.

“I’m ready to prove myself, Your Majesty.”

“Good. I have a spy mission in mind that I believe you would be perfect for.”

Perfect for? Tristan leaned forward. Did Jager know all about his abilities? How skilled he was with weapons and unarmed combat? How hard he’d had to work to be accepted when nobody except Sebastian had wanted him to pass the exams?

“Since your father is a known criminal, I don’t think anyone would have a hard time believing that you might be tempted to that life too.”

Tristan didn’t let his shoulders slump with disappointment, even though he wanted to. It wasn’t his abilities that Jager believed in but his father’s reputation?

“We will circulate a story that you tricked your way into the knighthood, were caught, and were kicked out. Perhaps you even stole something and fled the system, hotly pursued by real knights.” Jager waved indifferently.

Tristan wanted to protest that he was a real knight, but if this ruse got him a chance to prove himself…

“Now, you’re down on your luck, out of money, and scrambling to find any work that pays. Which is why you’ll be entering one of the monthly gladiator competitions that Sultan Shayban in System Stymphalia hosts. He’s one of the wealthiest and most influential rulers in the Miners’ Union, and he regularly recruits the winners of those battles for security positions. Our spy in his palace tells me that the next winner, should he be deemed suitable, will be offered the position of bodyguard to his favorite daughter, Princess Nalini.”

Tristan listened intently, not letting himself be daunted by the idea of traveling alone to another star system for the first time, or having to beat out countless warriors who might be cybernetically enhanced or genetically engineered—something that wasn’t allowed in the Kingdom.

“Am I to spy on her for Royal Intelligence?” Tristan asked.

“To some extent—you’ll report anything of interest to our current spy in the palace—but mostly, you’re going to ensure she doesn’t decide to run away from the marriage that her father and I are arranging.”

“Marriage to whom?”

“Prince Jorg.”

Tristan struggled to keep his expression neutral. The idea of being someone’s bodyguard didn’t bother him, but being her keeper? Her captor?

But this was the path to the career he’d dreamed about since he’d been a boy. He took a deep breath and said, “I am prepared to take on this mission, Your Majesty.”

“See that you excel at it, so that I have no reason to doubt your loyalty and trustworthiness.” Jager’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, and Tristan had no doubt that there would be consequences if he failed. “If you ensure that Nalini is safe and ready to marry my son later this year, you have my word that you’ll officially be made a knight.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Tristan pushed aside his feelings of unease. The nobility—royalty—were used to arranged marriages. It wasn’t as if he would personally be responsible for destroying this girl’s dreams. “I will do all that you ask of me. You can trust me.”

~

You can get Knight Protector here: https://amzn.to/31oCXTw

Free Fiction: Cultured and Clawed (a Star Kingdom short story)

I’ve been writing some fun background stories to go with my Star Kingdom science fiction series, and this is the second of at least three that I’m planning to do this summer.

The first story, “Robots and Roommates,” is a free bonus to my newsletter subscribers (sign up here), but I thought I would put the second one up here for anyone who is interested. This is how the genetically engineered cat-woman warrior, Qin, and my grumpy and jaded bounty hunter, Bonita (ahem, Laser), first met. I hope you enjoy it!

Cultured and Clawed

Captain Bonita “Laser” Lopez stood at the base of the Stellar Dragon’s ramp as robot loaders rolled crates out of her cargo hold, across the busy space station docks, and to one of the warehouses where a bored android supervisor checked them off.

Her knees ached, a byproduct of nearly seventy years of life and far too many injury-producing skirmishes as a bounty hunter, but she made herself stand with her arms crossed, her hands inches from the twin DEW-Tek pistols holstered at her waist. Twin Suns Station, which was run by corporations with varying degrees of disinterest in law enforcement wasn’t a good place to appear weak.

“Hey, Grandma,” a man with a bag slung over his shoulder said with a wink. “How about a quickie?”

“That all you have the stamina for, peewee?”

“I got plenty of stamina, but I wouldn’t want to hurt you with my undying vigor.”

“With lines like that, hijito, you’ll never get close enough to any woman to take your vigor out of your pants.”

He curled a lip, eyeing her pistols and the crates being wheeled off with calculation. He either decided there was nothing small enough to easily steal or that she was too formidable to mess with.

Alas, the latter was unlikely. With a pistol, rifle, dagger, or hefty rock in her hand, Bonita could still knock the cojones off a flea at a hundred meters, but people didn’t seem to sense that at a glance anymore. It was the gray hair, no doubt. She had the money to dye it, even if she couldn’t afford knee surgeries or anti-aging treatments, but she made herself put vanity aside. It was better to be underestimated than the other way around.

The man walked off, but the long assessing look he cast over his shoulder reminded Bonita that she should put her payment in the vault sooner rather than later. On this station, payment involved physical currency rather than bank transfers, so she had a roll of Miners’ Union dollars in her pocket, courtesy of the android warehouse manager.

Captain Bonita? Viggo, the sentience linked to the ship’s computer, asked. He sent the message to her embedded chip instead of using the ship’s comm system, even though she was close enough to hear the speakers in the cargo hold.

Yes? she replied in kind.

There’s a girl in the cargo hold.

Trying to steal something? Bonita bristled at the idea. Or stowing away?

She appears to be hiding.

So, a stowaway who wanted a ride off the station. If Bonita lived here, she would want to escape, too, but she couldn’t afford to feed passengers who didn’t pay. I’ll get rid of her.

Bonita made sure her male admirer had moved on before striding up the ramp, doing her best to hide her limp. When she’d been a bounty hunter, she’d made more money and could have paid for the knee surgery she needed. If not for the ex-husband who’d made off with everything in her savings account, she still could have paid for it.

Back corner near the engine room, Viggo prompted.

Got it.

Though she didn’t expect much trouble from a “girl,” Bonita drew one of her pistols as she walked around crates that hadn’t yet been unloaded. She peered into a shadowy nook between the cargo and the bulkhead.

“Come out of there,” she said.

The shadows stirred. With the crates blocking the overhead lights, Bonita couldn’t make out the person in the shadows, but the girl appeared bigger than she’d expected. The movement stopped, and nobody stepped out.

Bonita frowned and pointed her weapon into the shadows. “Come out now. This is my ship, and it runs freight, not stowaways.”

The shadows stirred again, and this time, someone walked slowly out. Someone huge.

Bonita skittered back, startled by the six-foot-plus woman-thing that stepped into the light.

Her knee twinged as she caught her foot, but she barely noticed. She was too busy staring at the broad-shouldered, muscular, furry, and fanged cat-woman warrior. Cat-woman something. She carried three firearms on straps hanging from her shoulders, including a huge Brockinger anti-tank gun, and she gripped the strap with hands with long claws.

“Viggo,” Bonita squeaked, “that’s not a girl.”

The female warrior had a thick black mane of hair, with pointed ears that stuck up through the locks. Her face was mostly human—even attractive, with more skin than fur, full lips, a straight nose, and dark, solemn eyes with slitted cat’s pupils—but the rest of her had been designed to kill. No doubt.

The pointed ears drooped. “I am female.”

“Sorry,” Bonita said, reacting to the chagrined expression. “I just meant I was expecting someone…” Someone with pigtails and far fewer claws and fangs, she thought. “Shorter.”

Viggo snorted over the speaker.

The warrior frowned and looked around, sniffing the air. Checking for another person?

“That’s the ship,” Bonita said.

“It has intelligence?”

Her voice sounded normal, if a little deep for a woman, the accent muddled like that of most other spacers who traveled throughout the Twelve Systems, the tics of their origins rubbing off over the years.

“He certainly thinks so.” Bonita rubbed her face and lowered the pistol pointed at her stowaway. If she was half the warrior she looked to be, she could probably dodge energy bolts and knock Bonita twenty feet before she could get a second shot off. “What are you doing on my ship?”

The woman looked toward the open hatch as a robot rolled up the ramp to pick up another crate.

“Hiding,” she said softly.

“Don’t take this the wrong way—” Bonita waved at the guns, but she meant to include the whole package, “—but you look like the kind of person that other people hide from.”

The woman’s face fell. She was younger than Bonita had guessed at first, a teenager maybe.

“I’m looking for a job. Is there any chance you’re hiring? I’m prepared to demonstrate my qualifications as a guard—I’m proficient in dozens of weapons and firearms and unarmed combat. Uhm, I don’t have a résumé.” She said the last word slowly and carefully, as if it was new to her.

Bonita imagined some ship’s captain asking her to send over a résumé and snorted. The three guns and muscles hinted strongly at her capabilities.

“Look, kid, what’s your name?” Bonita asked.

“They called me Three, but I would prefer Liangyu. Or Qin is fine if that’s a mouthful. Just not… Three.”

“Uh, right. Qin. I’m sorry, but I can’t afford an…” Bonita waved at her and her weapons. “All that. You have to go.”

“Room and board would be sufficient.” Qin raised hopeful eyebrows. “Until I’ve proven myself worthy of pay.”

While she groped for a way to convince her large guest that she wasn’t hiring, Bonita shifted so that her back wasn’t to the open cargo hatch. Even though Viggo would warn her if trouble were coming, her shoulder blades were itching. She used her chip to look up Qin Liangyu Three on the system’s network. She didn’t find an instance that included the number, but thousands of years earlier, Qin Liangyu had been some folk hero from Asia on Old Earth.

“You pick your name?” Bonita suspected this Qin had been engineered in some geneticist’s laboratory, probably in System Cerberus, where buying all manner of modified animals and human beings was commonplace, and nobody batted an eye at the idea of one person owning another.

“No. They gave it to us. I’ve looked it up before, but I don’t know if any of my DNA comes from that part of Old Earth. I don’t really know where it comes from—or what I am.” Her ears drooped again. For a hardened warrior, she was easy to read. “They didn’t teach us about our ancestry or culture or anything like that. Just about group and solo battle tactics and how to stay in top shape in the lower gravities of space.”

“Those are important things.”

Whistling drifted up from the ramp.

“The new owner of the cargo is coming,” Viggo said.

“Thank you.” Bonita started for the ramp but paused to shoo Qin behind the crates.

It was possible she had only meant to hide from Bonita, but she might also be hiding from this nebulous they she had mentioned.

The whistling grew louder, and a rotund woman with jowls that flapped as she walked came into view. Two towering bodyguards in combat armor flanked her.

Bonita kept her grimace to herself and walked forward with her chin up. The energy bolts of her DEW-Tek pistol would bounce right off that armor, so she hoped the woman hadn’t come for a fight.

“Deirdre.” Bonita forced a smile. “Your android paid me already, so I wasn’t expecting a personal visit. Have you come to give me a tip?”

“A tip? I’m afraid not, my dear Laser. I’ve inspected the cargo, and it’s damaged. I’m going to have to ask for half of my money back.”

“Your android already inspected it and said nothing.”

“He only opened a couple of crates, as you know.”

“There’s no reason why any of it would be damaged. It was strapped down for the whole trip. As you can see, the crates all look fine.” Bonita waved as robots hefted a couple more of the big crates, leaving only two remaining, the two that Qin was hiding behind.

“Might have happened before you got ʼem.” Deirdre shrugged, hooking her thumbs into her belt. “That’s the business. Sometimes people try to take advantage. You’ve got to be wary, inspect a cargo before you take it on.”

“I did inspect it. I know everything is fine.” Bonita clenched her jaw. Even if she hadn’t been hauling freight for that long, she was no neophyte to being an independent operator.

She crouched slightly, ready to spring if her visitor ordered her men to attack. They were armored, but Deirdre wasn’t.

“I guess they got something by on you then. It’s a shame.” Deirdre clucked her tongue. “Boys, search her for the money. We don’t pay for damaged goods.”

Damaged goods that they’d mostly off-loaded and stuffed into their warehouse…

The armored men strode forward.

Bonita scooted away and turned, as if she meant to run for the ladder well to the upper decks. But she twisted, her knee jolting her with pain for the sudden move, and dove between the men.

Even though the armor gave them extra speed and strength, her move surprised them, and Bonita got by, rolling to come up right in front of Deirdre. The men shouted, but Bonita focused on her target, lunging forward as Deirdre reached for a pistol.

Her own pistol already out, Bonita smashed into her foe, then darted behind her and grabbed her. Using the woman as a shield, she whirled and pressed her pistol to Dierdre’s temple .

“Don’t even…” Bonita started but trailed off, her mouth dropping open.

She’d expected to find the men charging at her, but they dangled several inches above the deck, Qin’s big strong fingers wrapped around their armored necks. Their weapons had been torn out of their hands and lay on the deck behind her.

The men struggled, and one twisted, almost landing a kick on Qin’s thigh. She growled and slammed their helmets together, as if each of the big guards weighed ten pounds instead of two hundred. The Glasnax faceplates on those helmets were strong and impervious to almost anything, but that couldn’t have felt good.

Qin spun with her arms out, the men’s legs lifting into the air as if they were discuses in an old-fashioned Olympics, and she hurled them over Bonita’s head—Bonita yanked Deirdre down with her to duck—and out into the busy docking area. They bounced three times, armor clanking and startling passersby, and skidded into a kiosk where a robot offered them refreshments for a “very agreeable price.”

Qin picked up the men’s fallen rifles and added them to the armory she already wore.

Bonita rose, pulling Deirdre up with her, the pistol still pressed to her temple.

“About that cargo,” Bonita said calmly, as if this was exactly what she’d expected to happen, “I believe you were mistaken in your inspection.”

Deirdre swallowed, her jowls trembling. “It’s possible I was, yes.”

“Maybe you better go re-inspect it, eh?”

Bonita turned, pointing Deirdre down the ramp and releasing her, though she kept the pistol aimed at her back. Out in the docking area, the armored men had climbed to their feet, but neither rushed back to the ship. Deirdre looked over her shoulder, not at Bonita, but at Qin, who’d come to stand beside Bonita at the top of the ramp.

“That’s something you can put on your résumé,” Bonita remarked. “Experience hurling armored men.”

“Is it?” Qin asked. “Good. They said I had to fill up a whole piece of paper.”

The loader robots returned for the last two crates. Deirdre shook her head and strode away, waving for her men to join her. They walked quickly and didn’t look back.

“I hope that’s settled.” Bonita eyed Qin. She definitely would be handy to have around. “Thank you for the help.”

Qin bowed her head. “Can I reapply for a job now?”

“Freight haulers don’t make enough money to hire crews.”

Qin’s big shoulders slumped. “I see.”

“I used to be a bounty hunter. I’ve been semiretired since my partner—my sniveling excuse of an ex-husband—screwed me over and ran off. It’s gotten…” Bonita shifted her weight onto the knee that was hurting less at the moment. “It’s gotten more difficult of late, all by myself. But maybe if I had some young strong help, I could get back into it. Bounty hunters can make more money than freight haulers.”

Qin brightened. “I could help with that. I even know of some guys on this station with bounties on their heads.”

“They wouldn’t be the guys you were hiding in my ship from, would they?”

“Uhm. Possibly.” Qin looked uneasily toward the passersby, as if reminded of this, and slunk back into the cargo hold. “They work for one of the pirate families. They’re just little minions sent off on an errand, but I know they’re both wanted on this station. On lots of stations. I looked them up because I thought maybe I could turn them in myself, but I wasn’t sure if… the law would side with me.” She shrugged. “They believe I belong to their boss. I object. I’m about to turn nineteen. In many systems, I would be considered a free adult, allowed to go where I wish and do as I please.” Qin’s eyes grew wistful as she gazed out at the station.

Bonita wagered Qin wasn’t from one of the systems where slavery was illegal, but since she perfectly understood the need to be free and control one’s destiny, she was inclined to side with Qin.

“What are their names?” Bonita glanced toward engineering as four circular robot vacuums whirred into the cargo hold and started sucking up lint and slivers left behind from the crates. “Viggo will look them up on the bounty-hunter job board we’re still subscribed to. He’s not busy.”

“Not busy?” Viggo’s voice came over the speaker. “Really, Bonita. Do you see the mess that cargo left? Not to mention what those odious oversized robots did to my deck. They left grease spots all over.”

“Or I’ll look them up.” Bonita shook her head as more vacuums appeared from the various compartments around the ship. Truly, this was an emergency to be dealt with immediately.

“Sledgehammer Syler and Boom-Boom Barbato.”

“Whatever business could they be in? Dentistry? Upholstery?” Bonita used her chip to access the bounty-hunter job board.

Qin smiled bleakly. “They’re not that tough. I could take them in a fair fight. But they know me, and they know their bosses will be angry if they don’t recover me, so they won’t let it be a fair fight.”

“No, we won’t let it be a fair fight.” As Bonita prodded a thumb to her chest, a robot bumped her ankle as it tried to vacuum between her legs. “Viggo.”

“My apologies, Bonita. You’re on their route.”

“How rude of me.”

“I wasn’t going to mention it, but yes.”

Bonita widened her stance so the robot could get through, wondering if other captains had to deal with entities like this. Most ships just got a programmed AI. But she’d ended up with a ship that had once belonged to a human being, who had, just before he died, had his consciousness uploaded into the computer.

Qin perked her eyebrows. “You’re going to help me?”

“If by help, you mean provide a distraction while you beat them up and then turn in their battered unconscious bodies for the bounty, then yes.”

“That’s perfect.” Qin grinned and gripped Bonita’s shoulder.

It didn’t hurt, but her wicked claws did flash alarmingly in the ship’s light, the razor edges on several ragged, as if they had broken off.

Bonita had to fight the urge not to spring away. “Those are… noticeable.”

“Sorry.” Qin’s grin turned to a grimace, and she tucked her hands behind her back.

“You don’t have to apologize, but if this works out, maybe we can tidy them up a bit.”

“Like a manicure? I’ve never had a manicure, but I’ve read about them.” Qin drew a hand to examine the claws, extending them to their full length, like five deadly switchblades built into her fingers and thumb.

“Yes, a manicure. I have nail polish.” Bonita almost choked at the idea of filing and polishing claws, but if she couldn’t afford to pay the kid, she could at least do her nails.

Assuming this worked. As the bounties and pictures came up for the two hulking toughs—both looked to have been modded to have more muscle mass than normally possible—Bonita worried she might have agreed to far more than was wise.

* * *

“Are you sure I should be walking in the open like this?” Qin eyed the station goers who were eyeing her right back.

Genetically modified people, animals, and people-animals weren’t that uncommon in System Stymphalia, but Qin’s impressive build her made noticeable. Even though her eyes and ears were expressive and without malevolence, and she’d left all but her anti-tank weapon behind in the ship, she looked like someone’s tough on a mission to kill. The glances were probably less because she was an oddity and more because people were concerned that she was after them.

“That’s the point. You’re the bait. We want someone to see you and report to those two thugs.”

“Sledgehammer and Boom-Boom probably aren’t far behind me. I spotted them across the concourse yesterday, and I think they spotted me back.”

They were moving out of the docking area and into that concourse now, with all manner of restaurants, pubs, and storefronts to either side of the wide boulevard, along with occasional gates for commercial transport to different parts of the system.

“The hope is that they’ll focus on you and not notice me—or think I can give them any trouble.” Bonita had donned a leather jacket over her galaxy suit, even if it was a dubious fashion statement. It allowed her to carry an under-jacket pistol holster that nobody could see, along with an eight-pack of compact smoke grenades. She exaggerated her limp, so she would appear like even less a threat, though she expected the thugs to dismiss her at the first glimpse of her gray hair.

“And, uhm, the vacuums?” Qin peered over her shoulder at the four whirring discs pretending to vacuum while trailing after them. They blended in with the various station robots emptying trash bins, cleaning storefront windows, and picking up food wrappers.

“A further distraction. That’s all.” Bonita resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Viggo had said he wanted to help, and she hadn’t seen the harm in it, but if they got more than a half mile from the ship, he would lose the signal and his ability to control the robots. Then Bonita would be stuck carrying them back.

An older woman with a shopping bag walked too close and bumped Bonita. She wrinkled her nose at the scent of some loathsome fermented vegetables on the woman’s breath and checked her pistols and knife to make sure that hadn’t been an attempt at pickpocketing. She’d left her freshly earned Union dollars in the vault on the ship with the hatch locked. If someone tried to break in to steal it, Viggo could sic the rest of his robot cadre on him or her.

“I see one of them,” Qin whispered, her gaze pointed ahead and to the right, toward a kiosk serving exotic vat sausages, as the sign said. Sort of. Alterations had been graffitied on with red paint, changing it to erotic rat sausages.

An eight-foot-tall man with shoulders half as wide was stuffing his face with a massive sausage on a stick. Bonita recognized him from the bounty pictures. Boom-Boom.

He bristled with weapons: daggers and pistols at his hips, a DEW-Tek Starkiller rifle on a chest strap, and something that looked like a giant axe across his back. He wore a galaxy suit, which would protect him from a few shots, especially if he put the helmet up, but not the harder to penetrate combat armor. That was something, at least.

Bonita assumed his buddy wasn’t far off. Her nerves jangled in anticipation of a fight. No matter how many times she’d hunted down a man—or woman—she still got nervous before the moment.

“He sees me.” Qin faced straight ahead, pretending she hadn’t seen the man looking.

“Let’s step into that bookstore.” Bonita waved at a storefront, tall aisles of shelves visible through the Glasnax window. They were filled with maps and scrolls for art, desk and office accoutrements, and rows and rows of books. Even the giant Boom-Boom would have a hard time seeing targets around everything.

“We’re going to start a fight in a bookstore?” Qin asked. “I don’t want to get trapped. Or blow up a bunch of expensive books.”

“I’ve been to this station before. There are doors in the backs of the shops that lead to maintenance corridors. We can set up an ambush there.” The last time Bonita had hunted someone here, she had ended up chasing him through those exact corridors. Her knees had been better then. She hoped this didn’t devolve into a chase.

Qin looked dubious, but she followed Bonita inside.

A chime tinkled, and a robot clerk announced the specials and that they would be incinerated by the security system if they attempted to shoplift. It sounded like a bluff, though Bonita did see a couple of cameras on the walls.

She and Qin found a spot in the rear where they could keep their backs to a wall and see the entrance.

“Keep an eye out,” Bonita whispered, then trotted to the back to make sure she had been right about the corridor—and that that door wasn’t locked.

She almost tripped over one of the robot vacuums and grumbled. The door was not locked. She poked her head into the corridor outside and found the lights out, a broken ceiling panel dangling. There were a few garbage bins and crates stacked against a wall a few yards away. She almost ran over to make sure nobody was hiding behind them—she’d only seen one of the toughs so far—but a quick check revealed that the bookstore door was locked from the corridor side. She grabbed one of the robots, tipped it on its edge, and leaned it in the gap so the door couldn’t close. It whirred indignantly.

There wasn’t anyone behind the crates.

“Just being paranoid,” she muttered to herself but also checked around the nearest corner before letting herself believe the corridor was empty. For now. She would use those crates for her ambush.

When she returned to the bookstore, she tipped the vacuum robot back onto its rollers and rejoined Qin.

“He hasn’t come in yet,” she reported, her claws gently tracing the spine of a book on Old Earth cultures. “I was sure he saw me.”

“He’s probably telling his buddy to join him. Or to go around back.” Bonita hoped the thugs didn’t know about the corridor access, but she couldn’t count on it.

“Hide behind me if any fighting starts,” Qin said.

“I’ll hide behind anything I can for cover.”

“I miss my combat armor. I was only able to get away with my guns. They have trackers on the armor suits.”

Bonita didn’t ask who they were. Whoever had hired Boom-Boom and Sledgehammer, presumably, but it wasn’t her business to pry. In truth, she didn’t want to know who was after Qin, because then she might decide it was very foolish to risk making enemies of them. And she would rather help Qin than abandon her.

“If this works, we’ll buy you a suit with the bounty money.”

Qin smiled sadly. “Their bounties aren’t that large. Combat armor is expensive.”

“I know. I have a set. And their bounties aren’t that large if we turn them in here, but they’re wanted in four systems. Tiamat Station is offering the most.”

“You’d travel all that way and risk having them on your ship for weeks to collect those bounties?”

“For an extra thirty thousand Union dollars? Hell, yes. That’s more than I would make running freight in those weeks. A lot more. Though we could probably pick up a cargo to take too. And I have a brig cell—sort of. It’s secure. And you’d be around in case they tried to break out, right?”

Qin lifted her chin. “Yes, I would.”

Bonita peered over the bookcase, expecting the sausage-sucking slug to stalk into the bookstore any second. But minutes ambled past. He was definitely waiting for backup.

The robot clerk came down their aisle to check on them, and Bonita pulled out the culture book, pretending she was considering a purchase.

“Take your vacuuming outside,” the clerk said, stopping in front of two of Viggo’s robots. “There is no filth in my store.”

The vacuums whirred away, disappearing under tables and into nooks. The robot huffed and followed them.

Qin laid a claw on the page Bonita had opened the book to, an old legend of a dragon and a monk back on Old Earth.

“I don’t know anything about my culture or heritage,” she murmured.

“You said that before. Does it matter to you?”

Qin shrugged. “It just seems like having a culture and sharing it with people is part of the human experience. If all you are is intelligent and self-aware, are you still human?”

Bonita thought it was the fur and the pointy ears that would make Qin’s claim of humanity more dubious, rather than any absence of culture, but she kept the notion to herself. “Yes. And I’m sure that’s not all you are.”

“But culture is important. I’m sure you came from a family with a religion, and songs, and stories, and a language that isn’t System Trade. And it shaped you and made you who you are. A human being, not a mishmash of hacked-up DNA strands jammed together in a test tube and thrown in an artificial womb for nine months.”

Bonita checked the front door again, afraid the toughs would stride into the bookshop in the middle of her new assistant’s existential crisis. “I had a father who liked to hit us, a mother who slept around, and a bunch of brothers who ran with the habitat gangs. The only culture that’s left an impact on me decades later was learning to cook our traditional meals at my grandmother’s side.”

That wasn’t quite true, because Qin’s mention of songs had brought one from her childhood to mind, and even if her family had been dysfunctional, she remembered celebrating Christmases with them, at least when she’d been little. The traditional had fallen off after her father had been shot and her eldest brother had been sentenced to life on a penal asteroid mine.

“Cooking sounds nice,” Qin murmured.

“I’ll make my husband-winning posole rojo for you once we take care of your problem and leave this station. Though I have to admit it only wins loser husbands that leave you after five years. Technically, I left one of them.” Bonita shrugged, wondering how she’d gotten into this discussion with a kid she’d just met. “Never mind. I—”

She stopped. Boom-Boom strode through the door, his rifle in both hands.

The robot clerk squawked a protest. Boom-Boom blew him away, shards of metal tinkling against bookcases and the ceiling.

Qin and Bonita ducked.

“Lure him out the back,” Bonita whispered, not wanting to shoot up the bookstore.

Qin nodded once, her wistful expression gone, replaced by a warrior’s grim determination. She sprang over the bookcase, leaped over three more, and even as the tough whipped his rifle toward her, she crashed into him. They smashed to the floor, a whirl of punching fists and thrusting knees.

“That’s not luring,” Bonita groaned, but she rushed to the back door, prepared to do her part.

Either Qin would lead the tough into the corridor, or Bonita would run into the second one, trying to sneak up on them. Or both.

When she reached the door, one of the robot vacuums waited, like a dog hoping to be let out.

“Yeah,” Bonita whispered, as thuds and clunks echoed from the walls of the bookstore. “You go out first. Good idea.”

She pushed the door open enough to let the vacuum whir out. A boom sounded in the corridor, and a round blew the little robot to pieces. Smoke billowed, filling the corridor.

Bonita ordered her galaxy suit’s helmet to unfold from its slot below the back of her neck and leaned out with a pistol in each hand. She spotted movement right away, a man in combat armor, standing beside the crates but not bothering to take cover behind them. He didn’t need cover, not with the armor. He held a gas-operated X10 Drumfire with a bandolier of explosive rounds he could load into it.

Cursing, she fired at his seams, hoping the armor of some criminal wasn’t in the best repair and that she would find a weakness. He’d been glaring through his helmet at the destroyed robot, but he whipped the Drumfire toward her as she fired. Her shots were accurate, but the crimson energy bolts bounced off the seams. She ducked her head back inside just before he blew the door off its hinges.

Bonita pulled out one of her smoke grenades and threw it down the corridor without looking. Another boom sounded. Had he fired at the grenade? Good.

She risked leaning out one more time, certain her galaxy suit could take a hit, and spotted him engulfed in smoke, but he was already striding out of it, toward her doorway. She aimed a pistol, not at his seams this time, but at his weapon’s gas cartridge.

As he strode out of the smoke and saw her waiting for him, his scarred face lit up. An instant before he pulled his trigger to fire again, the cartridge blew up. The weapon followed.

Startled, he dropped the pieces, but he wasn’t discombobulated for long. He snarled and sprang for her.

Bonita jumped back from the doorway as someone else blurred past and into the corridor. Qin.

She roared, crashing into the thug like a wrecking ball.

Bonita spun, worried Boom-Boom would be on her heels. But the bookstore had fallen silent. Boom-Boom lay unmoving in the front doorway, two of Viggo’s vacuums ramming against his boots, as if they could push him to the nearest trash incinerator. On a more civilized station, security would be arriving by now, sirens wailing. But only a handful of the passersby even glanced at the fallen thug. A boy ran up and stole his big axe.

Crashes and thuds and a male cry of pain came from the corridor. Bonita inched toward the doorway, prepared to help, but the noise stopped.

She leaned out and found the armored man on the floor, his helmet torn off, his armor dented like a tin can that had been run over by a street cleaner—repeatedly—and his eyes lolled back in his head. Qin stood next to him, a foot on his chest, her huge anti-tank gun in hand, though she had never fired it.

“Thank you for your help, Bonita,” Qin said gravely.

“I didn’t do much.” Bonita glanced at the robot vacuum shards and realized she would have to use some of the bounty money to replace that, or she could never hear the end of it from Viggo.

“You and the vacuums distracted them. It would have been difficult if they’d both come at me at once.”

Bonita looked at all the dents in the unconscious man’s armor. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

Qin flashed a grin, fangs glinting in the light flowing out of the bookstore.

“Why don’t you pick up a couple of books before we tote these guys to my brig?” Bonita waved into the store. “I’ll pay for them. I think we owe the owners a purchase since we got their door blown up. And their robot cashier. Uhm, maybe we better make a few purchases.”

Bonita now regretted choosing the book shop for their ambush. She should have chosen one of the more disreputable stores, like the place that rented sex robots by the hour and had the robots programmed to pickpocket the drunker clients.

“Books? I love books.” Qin lowered her gun and clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “I never had money or was allowed to own anything before.”

“Well, you can now. You can have a cabin of your own.”

“Does this mean I’m hired?”

“At no pay besides room and board and nail polishing? You got it, kid.” Bonita smiled, though if nothing went wrong with turning in the thugs for their bounties, she would be able to afford to pay her new assistant, who, bless her, didn’t look at all perturbed by these stipulations. “Why don’t you get that book on culture stuff? And then pick a culture that sounds interesting and claim it for yourself.”

One of Qin’s pointed ears rotated uncertainly. “I don’t think it works that way. You have to be born into a culture.”

“Says who? The culture police? Look, most of human history is the story of people getting conquered by other people and having some new culture forced on them. Just find one you want to learn about, and we’ll make it yours. I’ll help you celebrate the holidays.”

“I’ve never celebrated a holiday before.”

“Then you better find a culture that has a good one coming up pronto.”

Qin grinned shyly and walked into the bookstore.

THE END

If you haven’t checked out my Star Kingdom series yet, Book 1 is still 99 cents for a couple more weeks: https://books2read.com/StarKingdom1