Medusa's Touch Read online

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  About the Author

  Also by Emily L. Byrne

  About Queen of Swords Press

  Queen of Swords Press LLC, Minneapolis, MN

  www.queenofswordpress.com

  Published in the United States

  * * *

  ISBN 978-0-9981082-9-2

  Cover Design By:

  Terry Roy

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real people or current events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-0-9981082-9-2

  Prologue

  The first ships left Earth when the air became too thick to breath without filters and the water was nearly gone. They carried the colonists and the supplies they needed to survive the journey to new, unknown solar systems. Each ship was emblazoned with a different corporate logo, designating the crew’s sponsor. Each corporation sent its leadership as well as its research and development teams. And its security forces, each one large enough for the core of a small army.

  Any corporation with enough credits could sponsor a ship. They were the de facto rulers of Earth by then. They could choose their own destinations, any solar systems their ships could reach and claim. As the generations passed, the biggest corporations expanded, claiming their own systems, their own quadrants. They formed alliances and rekindled old enmities. The Corps Wars that followed were inevitable, at least to those on the winning side.

  The Wars rearranged the universe, leaving behind them a loose confederation of worlds dominated by corporate owners and independent operators. The central worlds were linked by a political and economic network that connected the human-inhabited systems under the United Systems Federation. Three hundred years after leaving Earth, humans and the four known alien species were united.

  The Wars also created a new cyborg pilot, one who could fly the combat ships by mind-linking to the ship’s computer. The links were implanted in the pilot’s skull, replacing most of their hair with coiled metal tentacles that could plug into a ship’s computer. The mindlink made the medusa ships more flexible and responsive than regular starships, nearly unstoppable in ship to ship combat, except by another medusa pilot who thought and reacted first.

  Outside the corporate military, the pilots who choose the medusa operation were few. It was permanent or so they said: once a medusa pilot, always a medusa pilot. And once you got used to having the links, they took on a life of their own, like miniature hands. They defined who you were and how others viewed you. It was more than most spacers wanted, corp or shadow trade.

  TiCara X273 was a war orphan on FoxCred Corporate Station, a child of barely thirteen cycles, when she saw her first medusa pilot. By then, she had also seen so many other things that to call her a child seemed inappropriate. In the eyes of station security, she was a thief, alley scum who could be used for target practice or worse. Hiding in a spaceship docking bay where she might be seen and captured in order to watch the medusa ships come in was tantamount to suicide.

  She did it anyway.

  The pilots, when they emerged from their ships, were as alien as anything that she had ever imagined. Their medusas moved independently of the pilots’ bodies, like living things. The pilots themselves were strong and well fed, walking slowly in the station’s heavier gravity but each step, each gesture, radiating a fierce predatory grace. The stars of a thousand systems shone in their eyes, piercing TiCara’s heart until she could dream of nothing else.

  Those dreams kept her going, driving her to do anything she had to do to qualify for the corporate starship crews and the medusa operation. Anything at all.

  Chapter 1

  Solar cycle 7, 2345

  Pilot-Captain TiCara X273 walked down the station corridor with its red corporate logos and cream-colored walls into Vahn Corp like she owned the entire spaceport and the secur cams and the Eyes weren’t watching her every move. She never looked back at them, not even when one of the Eyes scuttled out under her foot, barely dodging away before she stepped on it.

  Let the other corps wonder why she was here, why the old man wanted to see her. The speculation would be good for business. If they thought that she was in demand, they would hire her for their own outside jobs, once this one was done. She hid her grin at the thought. Besides, taking another job with Vahn Corp had its advantages.

  When she reached the reception desk, Sherin Khan was waiting for her, just like TiCara knew she would be. Not that the rep had ever been anything other than coolly professional when they had met before but TiCara hadn’t served as an Ear’s pet before she got her medusas without recognizing desire in all its forms. Or, at least what she hoped was desire. The rep’s impassive expression made her second-guess her instincts.

  If she was being tru, the uncertainty made her awkward and uncomfortable, like a crèche-bred just out of the hold. She covered a wince with a shrug and threw her shoulders back, pulling up every bit of bravado she possessed to wear like body armor before she swaggered up to the rep.

  She’d been hoping to get a reaction, any reaction, from Sherin since she first heard the other woman sing in the spacer bars, long before Sherin became Ser Trin Vahn’s trusted assistant. And now, here they were, and she was still hoping. The pilot smiled to herself as Sherin escorted her through the lobby and down the short hall to Vahn’s office. She wondered if the rep still sang. She hoped she was going to get to find out soon.

  The door to Vahn’s office stayed closed as they stood before it and Sherin hesitated for an instant before reaching over to the keypad, as if she didn’t want to bring the pilot inside. An impulse drove TiCara to step in front of her, standing between the rep and the door so she could look directly into Sherin’s liquid dark eyes. Sherin froze, as if she didn’t know how to react.

  TiCara stepped in, making the distance between them too close for standard corporate communication. They were the same height so TiCara’s face was centimeters from the rep’s, giving her a close-up view of the other woman’s flawless brown skin and her very kissable full lips. Lips that now appeared to be twisting into a grimace of dismay or, perhaps, uncertainty.

  TiCara inhaled her nervous discomfort with a small grin and a twisting whirl of emotions that she didn’t want to examine too closely. Sherin stumbled back and TiCara, after a moment of hesitation, stepped forward, closing the distance between them like they were dancing. Now to find out what the rep was really thinking. Hello, Sherin, she breathed. Starshine girl. She moved her hand up but stopped short of touching the rep’s cheek and Sherin moved back out of reach, eyes narrowing in a startled expression.

  TiCara gave her a predatory smile and gestured toward the doorway. Trin Vahn wants me now. But you can have me later. Just hit the green button when you decide you’re ready. She waggled her medusas at the other woman and leered.

  Sherin looked away, the rapid rise and fall of her chest betraying her agitation. Was it de
sire? Or was TiCara letting the want that burned through blackhole her brain? TiCara studied Sherin for a long moment, waiting for her to look up and meet her stare, to say something that would tell her what might happen next and what, if anything, the rep wanted from her.

  But Sherin stayed silent and looked away and there was a client waiting and credits to be made and cred was too important to lose. At least for now. TiCara smoothed her features into the sobriety appropriate for an important meeting and gestured toward the door behind Sherin.

  Sherin spun away and hit the door’s old-fashioned secur button with a grimace. She ushered TiCara through, still not making eye contact, then trailed after her to stand in front of the now closed door. Her stance shifted subtly into guard mode, a change that TiCara could sense without turning her head. It surprised her, even hurt her a little. Did Sherin truly think that she was a danger to Vahn?

  But now she was letting herself get distracted and she recognized that for the danger it was. Shadow trade pilots like her had bigger worries than chasing the nearest handsome face. She stepped forward, walking slowly with hands clasped before her, through the long white room toward the man she had come to see. Not for the first

  time, she wondered what the two cloth wall hangings with their depictions of odd creatures and plant life on each side of his desk cost the old man; a good replica of Old Earth embroidered silk was worth more than her entire ship. Originals cost more creds than she could imagine.

  Ser Trin Vahn, CEO of Vahn Corp, sat behind his big gray desk looking even more like an Old Earth tortoise than he had at their last meeting, only a half cycle ago. Word from the Eyes was that Eternayouth didn’t work for him anymore, that he would die a wizened old man while his seemingly younger rivals outlived him. Or so they all hoped, ghouls that they were.

  TiCara was hoping that he outlasted them all, mostly because his credit had always been good. Besides, she liked him better than her other clients, which meant better than not at all. Trusting him was another matter, but then, she was hard pressed to think of any employer she thought she could trust.

  She stopped before the desk and gave him the formal United Systems greeting: hand to heart to lips to forehead, followed by a bow. It was more formal than she needed with an established client but she knew it would sweeten up the old man. He was as notorious for formality as for his devotion to the ancient ways that their ancestors had brought to the stars from their home planet. She looked up and he nodded in acknowledgment before he spoke, his voice rasping against her ears, I have need of your services again, Pilot-Captain TiCara. I apologize for the short notice but this is important.

  It must be. Vahn had never gone straight to business when she’d dealt with him before. Nor had he ever mentioned anything that approached urgency. Urgency was expensive, and they both knew it. Normally, he spoke first of interstellar trade, then asked shrewd questions that tried to make her reveal too much about her own operations. Then and only then would he tell her why he had summoned her.

  This time was clearly different. He didn’t mention Sirius Transport, the shipping corp she currently subcontracted for, only her. Which meant this was an independent deal, risky for both of them. Sirius could cut her contract if they found out. They could do nothing to the old man, of course, not directly. But there were other forms of vengeance for interfering with another corp’s contractors while they were under contract: missing licenses, refusals to allow a ship to make port, minor sabotage.

  TiCara weighed the risks as she sized up Vahn. Her latest delivery for Sirius had been a success and their rep had let her know that they would like her to make another drop soon, but they had not finalized any details. Sirius might ignore a side job, as long as it was fast and quiet and her ship was available when they were ready.

  Vahn gestured for her to sit and a roboserver emerged from a wall panel to place a tea tray with a steaming teapot and small ceramic cups on the desk between them. They each took a cup and sipped. TiCara blinked in pleased surprise: this was greenhouse-grown tea, not the usual imitation made from processed protein. The old man was trying to sweeten her up, too.

  They exchanged a few comments about meteorite showers in the Kyrin System and the attendant shipping risks. It was as if he was trying to belie the urgency he had just admitted to feeling. But TiCara knew that it wouldn’t last long. She placed her cup back on the tray and he gestured to Sherin. The rep stepped forward and plugged in her portable so that it displayed on the small screen that rose from the edge of Vahn’s desk.

  Then she stepped aside, her movements slow and reluctant to the pilot’s augmented senses. Why was she hesitating? What was going on? TiCara’s brain whirled with possibilities.

  Perhaps this run would be more dangerous than she had expected when she agreed to this meeting. Vahn was apparently willing to accept the risks, whatever they were, and she found that even more disturbing than his rep’s obvious suspicions. Speed and recklessness was something new in her dealings with him. Vahn had a well-deserved reputation for caution and cunning.

  She wasn’t sure she liked this shift, if that’s what this was. Change meant uncertainty, more things out of her control. It was safer in the shadows, back out of the bright lights, back where she controlled the variables. But then, she reminded herself, if she had stayed there, she never would have earned her own ship.

  And good cred was good cred. Especially when she owed as much as she did for the Astra. She smoothed her surprise and misgivings away with a smile and a sweeping gesture. Of course, Ser. Any services I can provide are yours. For a price, of course. She left the words unspoken, instead dropping her dark gaze demurely to the red and black carpet that ran under the desk the surrounding chairs, though not without a sideways glance at Sherin.

  The other woman watched her employer as if he was the only person in the room, her gaze fixed so firmly on him that her eyes might have been glued in place. Almost as if she was afraid of what might happen if she looked

  at the pilot instead. TiCara swallowed a sudden burst of optimism and glanced back at Vahn.

  Vahn spoke again, his tone taking on an ancient weariness, You have heard the stories they tell in the spacer bars about Electra 12, have you not, Pilot-Captain?

  TiCara’s eyebrows rose, or might have if she still had any. Like most medusa pilots, she had her body hair lazered so that stray hairs wouldn’t catch in the medusa coils. But her facial muscles rose upward and the effect was nearly the same in conveying her astonishment. I have heard some stories, of course. But they also say the asteroid’s a myth, Ser.

  She thought about tapping into her handheld and doing a rapid search, seeing if there was something new, but there was no time to find anything really useful without appearing distracted, even at top speed. She would have to rely on her unaided memory. Electra 12 was supposed to be an artificial asteroid where something or someone could heal all kinds of human illnesses, perhaps even reverse the effects of human aging, if Eternayouth didn’t work on your metabolism. In the bars, they even called it The Fountain of Youth, after some Earther tall tale.

  There were a dozen or so stories about the place, each wilder than the last. Gossip said that the location was known only to a select few, but that the information could be bought for a big enough price. That part sounded tru, certain. They also said that the asteroid was hidden because whatever happened there could potentially trigger another Corps War or that it was neutral territory for the corporations. But nothing TiCara had ever heard or seen suggested that the rumors about Electra were tru, any of them. She looked at Vahn sympathetically now. This might be worse than she thought: only a dying man would pursue a dream as futile as this one.

  He gave her a sharp look in return. I know what you’re thinking. It is not a myth, Pilot-Captain, nor am I deluded by my own needs. I have spoken to sources, reliable ones, who tell me that some of the benefits to be obtained from the asteroid’s labs are tru, as are the stories about its hidden location, Vahn leaned forward in h
is chair, his gaze piercing now, I have paid for and am now in possession of the coordinates. What I want you to do is transport me and my immediate staff there. You will receive the coordinates when we are on board.

  This time, TiCara didn’t bother to hide her astonishment. Vahn had his own ships, any one of them bigger and faster than her Astra. She used her ship for hauling freight and contraband, never passengers. Especially not rich ones. They were hard to please, for one thing, and often other kinds of trouble for another.

  She surprised herself by speaking her thoughts aloud, like a raw recruit. My ship is always available to you, Ser, of course. But why not take one of your own? A moment later it struck her. Vahn didn’t want anyone in his corp to know what he was up to. Chasing after a mirage like Electra 12 made the old man look weak, ripe for overthrow. And if the other corps or even his own subordinates suspected that he was vulnerable, he could lose everything. Which meant that this could be a one-way trip for her and her crew if Vahn wanted to make sure there was no trace of this particular expedition.

  Some of her fears must have shown on her face, despite her efforts to discipline her expression. Vahn sounded amused, even paternal, when he spoke again, TiCara, don’t you know me better than that? I will pay well for your search, better for your silence. There is nothing to be afraid of, provided all of us are discrete. Please go and prepare your ship. I ask that you do not tell your crew of our real destination for now. I don’t want the Eyes and Ears to learn anything until we arrive on Electra and my treatments have begun.

  He paused and gave TiCara an unreadable glance before he continued, I want to leave within twenty machrons. Sherin will provide you with the navigation coordinates once we are out of port. She and my bondarmin will attend to my needs while you and your crew handle the other logistics. My credit is open to you; take what you need. Consider your silence already paid for. I will make it most profitable for you to bring me safely to the asteroid as well as bringing me home. Then Vahn named a sum that would pay all of TiCara’s debts before he leaned back, his eyes closing in a seemingly involuntary gesture of dismissal.