#SFRMonday ~ MISSION TO MAHJUNDAR by Veronica Scott @VScotttheAuthor #scifirom
For this week’s #SFRMonday, check out Veronica Scott’s SFR Galaxy Award winning science fiction romance, Mission to Mahjundar.
An attempted assassination left Princess Shalira blind as a child and, now that she’s of marriageable age, her prospects are not good because of her disability. She’s resigned herself to an arranged marriage rather than face life under the thumb of her cold stepmother. But then she meets Mike Varone, a Sectors Special Forces officer sent to Mahjundar by the intergalactic government to retrieve a ship lost in her planet’s mountains. After Mike saves Shalira from another assassination attempt, she arranges for him to escort her across the planet to her future husband. She’s already falling hard for the deadly offworlder and knows she should deny herself the temptation he represents, but taking Mike along to protect her is the only way she’ll live long enough to escape her ruthless stepmother.
But what should have been an easy trek through Mahjundar’s peaceful lands swiftly turns into an ambush with danger around every turn. Shalira’s marriage begins to seem less like an arranged union and more like yet another planned assassination. The more they work together to survive, the harder it becomes to stop themselves from falling in love. Caught in a race against time, can they escape the hostile forces hunting them and make it off the planet?
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This place feels primed for disaster. Despite their local escort’s best efforts to hurry him through the crowded market, Mike noticed many of the stalls were closed, the vendors having left early and shuttered their inventory away. Other sellers seemed to be practically forcing their wares on the passersby, as if there was a deadline they were afraid to miss. Crowds of people thronged the place, some buying supplies, others talking furtively in small clumps. The situation report on the planet had said the political climate was stable, even with a dying emperor.
Sitreps were notoriously incomplete or dead wrong.
Shifting the heavy bag of equipment he was carrying, Mike exchanged a glance with his sergeant before tapping their guide’s shoulder. “Always this crowded?”
Without slackening his stride, the gaudily dressed local officer shook his head. “No, tomorrow is the first day of a major festival. People are stocking their larders for feasting. The plaza will be nearly empty by nightfall.”
“A pity our briefing didn’t mention the festival, or we’d have come in tomorrow. Our mission could have waited one day.” Ducking past a man carrying four rolled-up carpets, nearly falling over a pair of small street beggars, Mike shoved a half-drunk youth out of his way. His limited store of patience frayed, Mike felt a dull headache pounding. “After this melee, encountering mountain bandits will be a picnic.”
He stepped onto a broad, green-tiled walkway that bordered the flagstone street. From there, the going became somewhat easier. The small party made progress for a couple of encouraging minutes before a new impediment arose. Behind Mike came a fanfare of blaring, slightly out-of-sync trumpets. What traffic there was in the street came to an immediate halt as people started shoving, struggling to get to the sides of the thoroughfare, leaving the center of the road clear.
“It must be the empress and her party, on their way home from their observances at the temple complex.” Their guide, who’d introduced himself at the tiny spaceport simply as Captain Rojar, peered into the distance, one hand shading his eyes. “Let’s wait and see the fine sight. A treat for you.”
Granted, Mike’s hypnotraining in the primary Mahjundan languages might not have been all-inclusive, but there’d definitely been a faint tinge of sarcasm in the man’s remarks. Mike studied Rojar’s bland expression for a moment, but the officer’s tanned face and half smile betrayed nothing. Over his shoulder, Mike said in Basic to his cousin Johnny, the Special Forces sergeant accompanying him, “Watch our six. I didn’t think this crowd could make me any more nervous, but the tension definitely ramped up in the last two minutes.”
Glancing at the nearest citizens, Johnny Danver nodded. “Kinda quiet and sullen compared to what it was, ain’t it?”
Deciding to push the issue with their guide, Mike said, “Why don’t we move on? We could make some real progress while the crowd waits for the parade to go by.”
Hands on his hips, eyes narrowed, Rojar did a nervous survey of their position, as if marking where they stood in relation to some landmark only he knew, before shaking his head once. He made a slicing motion. “No.” Belatedly, he attempted to soften the refusal with a bit more explanation. “Much better to wait. No doubt you’ll find this glimpse of our royal family highly interesting.”
“No doubt,” Mike agreed, his own tone sarcastic now. Exchanging a rapid glance with Johnny, he settled in to wait for the promised parade, keeping a close eye on their gear, piled on the walkway at his feet. There was no point in struggling through the crowd independent of their escort. Arriving at the palace without the guy and having to wait for him to catch up would get the job off on the wrong foot for sure. Mike took a swig of water from his canteen, to cool his throat and his temper. One thing the report had been accurate about–Mahjundar was hot, even in midafternoon.
Although she’d never lived in the temperate mountain forests, Princess Shalira imagined she’d prefer them to the hot lowlands. Whenever she visited the tiny temple of her patron goddess Pavmiraia on the outskirts of the city, as she was doing today, she pretended the heat and intrigues of the capital and the court had been left behind. This chapel and her vivid daydreams provided special refuges for most of her life.
The floor was cool beneath her bare feet as she strolled twenty paces from the door to the altar, passing the snoring priestess, sprawled on a bench no doubt, mouth probably wide open. Not many come here anymore, not many at all. Will anyone worship the goddess when I’ve gone? Tears pricked Shalira’s eyes as she felt for the padded knee rest, bowed her head, and knelt in front of the altar.
“Do you know this is to be my last visit?” she whispered to the goddess she could no longer see. “Do you care? Will my pleas still reach your ears when I’ve completed my appointed journey?” Shalira fingered the amulet around her neck, the familiar whorls of the much-worn pattern under her fingers soothing her anxieties. For the thousandth time she reminded herself this impending trip wasn’t her choice so much as the least of evils. She took a deep breath. “Maybe my life will improve, away from the empress and her schemes.”
Settling more comfortably on the knee rest, she tried to visualize the chapel – graceful murals of forest and mountains on the walls, a small fountain in the courtyard outside, the larger than-life-size statue of the goddess herself, perpetually gazing to the east, a half smile on her face. Though Shalira’d not beheld these sights in well over fifteen years, she felt sure she was remembering them accurately.
A cool breeze smelling of moss and tiny flowers blew her long hair away from her face, and instinctively she lifted her chin to enjoy the stray breath of air.
Footsteps came down the aisle behind her, an unfamiliar, light tread. The newcomer halted a few feet behind the princess, who was already pivoting, unwilling to have her back to a stranger. For all the good it’ll do me if the intruder harbors evil intentions. She curled her hands into fists.
“No need to fear me, Your Highness. I offer a parting prophecy for your journey.” The woman’s voice was sweet and low, disarming. “You’ll travel farther than you dream, experience many things both good and bad, and even unexpected, but the blessings of Pavmiraia will wrap around you. Never doubt, but follow your heart in all your choices.”
“Thank you, priestess.” Unclenching her fingers, Shalira tried to calm herself with a deep breath. “Are you recently assigned to this chapel? I didn’t know there were any new celebrants.”
Gentle laughter like the chiming of bells. The woman touched Shalira’s cheek with the tips of her fingers. Annoyed, the princess straightened her spine, disliking anyone touching her, much less someone she didn’t know. “Indeed not,” said the bold newcomer. “I’ve been here since before your time. I came to bid you farewell, for I also take my leave of this place.”
“Who are you? I don’t recognize your voice.” She tried to keep impatience out of her tone. People who made her guess their identity were another frustrating aspect of her existence on the fringes of the court.
Best Selling Science Fiction & Paranormal Romance author and “SciFi Encounters” columnist for the USA Today HEA blog, Veronica Scott grew up in a house with a library as its heart. Dad loved science fiction, Mom loved ancient history and Veronica thought there needed to be more romance in everything. When she ran out of books to read, she wrote her own stories.
