Checkmate (4 page)

He nodded. “I’ll even advance a piece of the profit as a
good-faith sign. You’ll need it to upgrade your cloaking for this anyway. You
interested in a partnership for this one?”

She asked him a few more questions about the size of the
shipment, the weapons being transported and the armament of the transport
vehicle. She’d planned to go home for a week or so of rest before looking for
another job, so the schedule was open. His careful answers intrigued her
without revealing any of the important details.

“I’m in,” she told him, after considering it for a couple
more minutes.

He had a good plan for carrying out the lift. Devonne added
a couple of suggestions. With the two of them considering all possible issues,
they managed to devise a procedure that worked without a single hitch. The
profit let her make some further much-needed improvements to her ship.

During the next few months, they did several more operations
together and discovered they worked remarkably well as a team. They understood
how each other thought and were able to anticipate each other’s actions if
there were any problems or hitches.

On another occasion he ran into trouble in what should have
been a routine contraband run and called for help. Luckily, she was close enough
to get to him in time to assist him out of the jam.

They met often for more personal reasons, as well. The sex
got better each time, and they had fun together exploring exotic locations and
trying out the tourist traps of a dozen or more well-known resort cities.

It was a great ride. Until she found out who he really was.

It happened by accident one morning while they were drowsing
together in a replica Nouveau-Victorian boudoir, nestled among the silk and
soverell
pillows, partly draped in satin bedsheets. His p-comm buzzed and before he
could reach it to put in private mode, a voice shouted out, “Your Highness!
You’re needed on board soonest.”

He picked it up from the nightstand and said. “I hear. Be
there in twenty minutes.”

The “twenty minutes” honked her off enough, since she
figured that gave him approximately six minutes to dress and say goodbye, and
he wasn’t all that fast a dresser. But…

“
Your Highness
?” she asked. The sarcastic note wasn’t
entirely deliberate, but she didn’t regret it, either. “I’ve never heard a
space-faring crew address their captain that way unless he really was…”

He drew in a deep breath and let it out on a long, sad sigh
as he pulled on his trousers. “Yeah. I’m afraid I am. Sort of. It’s a long
story.”

“And you’ve only got another minute or so to spare for me.”

He winced. “If it had been your crew…”

“True,” she admitted. “Quick question then. Honest answer.”

He sucked in another deep breath. “All right.”

“Who are you? Really.”

His face tightened. When he hesitated for a heavy second,
Devonne’s stomach clenched and twisted. “My name really is Reginald Jameson
Jernigan.”

“I hear a ‘but’ there.”

Again there was a brief, but frightening pause. “I’m better
known as Prince Reginald of Gambria. My uncle is the Grand Emperor.” He looked
at her, watching her eyes widen. “I may be technically a prince, but the
reality is I’m nothing but an exiled nuisance.” In her shock, she barely heard
the bitterness of the last few words.

“
Gambria!
”

He paused while strapping on the p-comm and went stiff, as
though bracing himself. Well he might, too.

“You…” She couldn’t find enough air to get out the words as
she all but choked on her emotions. “Son of a bitch. You wouldn’t happen to
remember a small world in the Vishnin system, would you,
Prince
Reginald?
Altraia? I know you do, since I’ve mentioned it to you more than once. You
Gambrians weren’t interested in bargaining for mineral rights on Altraia. You
just took the whole place by force. Divided the population into two groups. Let
those who agreed to work with you stay; kicked the others off into exile. I
guess now I know why you didn’t want to talk about yourself or your
background.”

He drew a sharp breath. “We need to talk, Devonne. I had
nothing to do with that. I hate it, but I
have
to go now. Can we talk,
later? Please?”

She pulled together her scattering wits. “I don’t know,
Raje. This is a shock.” Another thought intruded. “Wait a minute, you’re the
emperor’s nephew… The Rebel Prince? The one reported killed at Scanson. Rumors
of your death were a bit exaggerated, I take it.”

He nodded. “I never—”

But the other latch had just clicked into place in her mind,
sending a wave of pure, white-hot fury through her. “Those arms shipments I
helped you lift. You had a buyer for them, all right. You son of a bitch.
You’ve been using me.”

“No. It’s not like that. Not exactly, anyway. Please, wait
until I can tell you more. I’ll be back as quickly as I can. Wait here for me?”

“I can’t. We’re scheduled for another run. If I don’t leave
in an hour or so we’ll miss a rendezvous.” Not that she would have waited
anyway. Not with the way she felt right then. She didn’t trust herself not to
kill him on the spot.

“When can we get together again? Next week?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to get back to you.”

“Will you?” he asked.

“When I’m ready to.”

“Please don’t make it too long.” He gave her a quick kiss,
squared his shoulders and left.

She was probably being unreasonable in not giving him a
chance to explain, but she couldn’t right then. Even if she didn’t have to
leave right away, she wasn’t ready to deal with his explanations. He’d known.
He’d known about her background and what his relationship with the Gambrians
would mean to her. He didn’t tell her. He’d deliberately hidden that
information from her. Worse, yet, he’d used her for his own ends. Thinking they
were in a partnership for financial gain, she’d helped him gather arms for his
own rebellion. Damn, she’d been gullible.

And she’d just begun to admit to herself that she was in
love with the man. Wasn’t that a sick joke?

She needed time and space to work it out.

The irony of it just about killed her. That she should
unknowingly fall in love with a man who should be her worst enemy. Even if he
wasn’t truly part of them, as he’d protested, he’d felt guilty enough about it
to hide the truth. And he wasn’t above using her feelings for him to get what
he wanted.

She couldn’t know that fate was about to compound the irony.

Chapter Four

She stomped around the ship in the mother of all bad moods
for the next week or so. The crew mostly avoided her for fear of being snapped,
growled or roared at. Devonne alternately raged at the man for his deception
and grieved for the relationship they’d had.

He hailed the ship several times, requesting a private line,
but Devonne refused. The more she thought about it, the madder she got.

She loved him, even if they’d seemed destined to have only a
sporadic relationship. It hadn’t mattered. What they’d had would have been
enough for her. But now… The Rebel Prince had used her help to get arms and
equipment for his people. Maybe he did actually care for her, though she had to
doubt it. But even if he did, what future was there for her with the Gambrian
second heir? He would likely end up either as the emperor, since his uncle had
no children of his own, or dead. He wasn’t popular with current government.
Either way there was no place for her in his life.

The next run was another routine brandy delivery that went
off as smoothly as usual. She’d planned to return home for a short stay
afterward to check on everyone’s welfare.

The return trip did not go according to the book.

About three L-secs out from Latrovsky’s Pier, the ship’s
alarm warned of the approach of another vessel. The other ship failed to accept
hails or inquiries but drove steadily toward them. When they finally got in
visual range, something about the craft seemed familiar, though she couldn’t
quite recall…

“Evade,” she ordered when she recognized the Sangari ship.

Had there just been the ship they saw, they probably could
have avoided and outrun it. But when two more decloaked on either side, the
possibility of escape diminished quickly.

Devonne debated trying to turn and run as she watched the
three ships close in, but the odds didn’t favor it. Better to see what they
wanted. “Buzz them,” she said to Nathan.

“Response on private channel,” he said. “They want to speak
to you, Captain. Privately.”

“Switch to my line, on private.”

“Captain Devonne,” the voice from the other ship boomed in
her ear. It was acknowledgement of her name, nothing more. “This is Captain
Grisskinnsini of the Sangari federated fleet, representing the Supreme High
Sangari Ruling Quint.”

“Captain Grisskinnsini,” she responded, struggling to
recreate the sounds of the Sangari’s name.

“Captain Devonne, as an authorized officer of the Supreme
High Sangari Ruling Quint, I’m charged with informing you that criminal action
has been laid against you before the Quint, alleging you assaulted a Sangari
officer and inflicted bodily harm.”

“I what? You mean that incident a year and a half ago on
Pargain, when a Sangari warrior knocked my arm and some of my drink splattered
on him?”

“I believe that is the incident noted,” the other officer
answered. “You’re also charged with using a stunner on him, resulting in a fall
to the floor that abraded his pelt, creating a bald patch, and extensive
bruising.”

“You are kidding me, right? Whose idea of a joke is this?”

“We find nothing humorous about the incident. My charge is
to bring you back to Sangaria to answer the charges at Tribunal.”

“That’s absurd. Your boy started all the ruckus by knocking
my arm.”

“That’s irrelevant. You’ll have a chance to answer the
charges before the Tribunal.”

“Why do you think I would come with you?”

The other captain’s voice took on a sorrowful note. “My duty
is to take you back and not permit you to escape. I should hate to have to
destroy your ship and your innocent crew to prevent it, but if that is what is
required, I’ll do what is needed.”

“You’d destroy my ship and kill my crew just to get me to
answer these ridiculous charges to your Tribunal?”

“That is my duty, Captain,” the Sangari said.

Devonne swore to herself and considered her next move. There
weren’t really many options. The Sangari’s calm implacability and what she knew
of their race suggested he would do exactly what he said.

“If I agree to come with you, you’ll let my crew go?”

“Yes, Captain. We have no quarrel with them. We seek only
you.”

She sighed. “I’ll come with you.”

Her crew reacted with the expected disbelief and anger on
her behalf. They tried to argue her out of going, even maintaining they
wouldn’t let it happen. She headed off a near-mutiny by offering a few
convincing half-truths that sounded reasonable enough to be believed. It was
just a simple bit of bureaucracy she needed to take care of. A bit of diplomacy
and a larger bribe should settle it. She did ask them to contact her attorney
and have him to meet her at Sangaria, or at least send a representative. Then
she gathered up her things and grabbed a shuttle to the Sangari ship.

The trip to their world took a little more than a day. The
Sangari didn’t try to restrain her or confine her to a cabin, but it would
hardly have made any difference. The living space of the ship was so cramped
and crowded she could barely move without banging into things anyway. She took
a long nap for most of the journey.

Once on Sangaria, they escorted her to quarters so spartan
it might as well have been a cell. Again no locks barred her from leaving the
room, but aside from wandering the corridor of a block of living spaces, there
was nowhere to go. The building sat on a slab of plasticine, in the middle of a
stretch of desert. Crews manning the place came and went via a series of
hovercrafts that arrived and left every half hour.

She spent only a few hours in the quarters before a group
arrived to escort her to some sort of official preliminary hearing. Before
three impassive-looking Sangari, she recited her version of events and waited
while a translator relayed it.

Her view of the crime didn’t impress them much. The
translator informed her that she would be facing the Tribunal the next day.
Afterward they led her to a small cubicle where she was left to wait for a
couple of hours.

When the door opened again, two Sangari flanked a much smaller
human man. By then, the sight of her lawyer sent a wave of relief through her.
The sheer scale of the room, geared for the larger Sangaris, was starting to
intimidate her. The lack of communication other than the formal charging
process also worked on her nerves.

“You’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a fix this time,
haven’t you?” Grayson Whetlock, her attorney, asked as he took the only other
seat in the room. “Not exactly what I expected, though. I had to do some fast
research on Sangari codexes on the way here. Couldn’t you have picked a fight
with a Mascrind or a Johnsonian? Some race with a more straightforward and
simple set of laws?”

She shrugged. “More billable hours for you, no doubt.”

Whetlock sighed. “Yes, well. This is a bit of a mess. Technically,
under their laws, you are guilty of assault, and they’re not amused by it.
There are a few options we’re looking at right now. I’ve talked to the lawyer
for the other guy they’ve charged and we’re working on some things. He’s such a
political hot chip that even the Sangari are a bit intimidated.”

“The other guy? Raje? They captured Raje, too?”

“Raje? Is that what they call him? Reginald Jernigan? Exiled
prince and second heir of the Gambrians?”

“That’s him.”

“You picked up an interesting one there. It should help you,
though. Like everyone else in this quadrant, the Sangari have an uneasy truce
with the Gambrians and they don’t want to risk it. Of course, even they’re
trying to figure out just what the Gambrians would actually want them to do with
Prince Reg. He’s been so openly outspoken against the current regime and most
of its policies that there’s some feeling they’d be just as happy to be rid of
him. On the other hand, he’s still the second heir, and there is no clear-cut
third. He’s also exceptionally popular among his own people, where the current
emperor is not. They’ve come close to civil war more than once. The current
Gambrian government might not mourn if he had an accident, but they can’t
afford to
let
him be imprisoned or executed.”

“And how does that help
me
?”

“Just a moment,” he said, and looked at his p-comm. “Yes.”
He pressed a couple of flat buttons on the device. “Good.”

“What?”

He turned to her. “We’ve worked out a deal. Prince Reg has
agreed to it, if you will. I really think this is the best we can do here, and
it should work out just fine.”

Her stomach twisted a bit. “Tell me.”

“Okay.” He drew a breath. “If you’re convicted of all the
charges the Sangari have laid on you, it could mean up to twenty years in their
labor prisons.” He paused briefly. “You really don’t want to go there.” Another
pause. “There is an alternative, though. The Sangari love games and
entertainment.”

“As in?”

“Just about anything and everything you can think of.”

“They like fighting,” Devonne added.

“Yes, that certainly. But also contests of strength and will
and perseverance. And, well, almost anything.”

“So how does this affect me?” She fought to control her
impatience and nervousness.

“If you’ll agree to enter a challenge match, the Sangari
will dismiss all charges against you.”

“Wait a minute. This presupposes that I think I would lose
my case at the Tribunal. The damn Sangari started the whole thing. He knocked
my arm, and then he tried to hit me. I was defending myself, damn it!”

Whetlock looked lugubrious. “I know, but it doesn’t matter.
Under the terms of their judicial code you’ll almost certainly be found
guilty.”

“I will.” She felt like grabbing a weapon and doing
something worth being found guilty of. “Blackmailing SOBs. This whole business
is really about getting new meat for their ‘challenges’, whatever those
involve. Isn’t it?”

The lawyer shrugged. “Perhaps. But the fact remains, you
face the possibility—”

“I get it.” She stood up and paced across the room and back
a couple of times. “But my choices are fairly—wait a minute. Why did I have to
agree before Raje would? What’s he got to do with it?”

The lawyer licked his lips. “Um…well, you see, they want a
pair
of humans in this particular challenge match.”

“What? Why? What does ‘this particular’ challenge match
involve?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. I just know they specified
that the two of you would have to agree to enter as a team.”

“A team. Raje and I. Oh, that’s rich.” She made no attempt
to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“I gather you and he didn’t part on the best of terms after
your last meeting?”

“You could say that.” She sighed deeply. “I don’t suppose I
have much choice here, though.”

“Not much,” the lawyer agreed. “I really can’t recommend
trying your luck with the Tribunal. They don’t have much regard for aliens.”

“No shit. I really would like to know more about what this
‘challenge’ would involve.”

“So would I,” the lawyer answered. “But they refuse to tell
me anything specific. I’ve looked over the previous cycle’s schedule of
challenges, and they seem to encompass everything from foot races to knife
fights to the death.”

Devonne swung sharply to look at him. “To the death? Raje
and I might have to try to kill each other?”

“It’s not all that common. More often they have you fight to
first blood. Or fight other things. They’re um…also quite fascinated by…sexual
matters, including some rather…how shall I say this? Some rather kinky human
proclivities.”

“Things? How many ‘challenges’ are we required to do? I
thought it was just one?”

“Just one challenge. It’s ten rounds. One a day for ten days
is their usual procedure.”

“Ten rounds.” She sighed. “Would I be fighting Raje through
all of them?”

Whetlock shrugged. “Or having sex with him? I don’t know. I
doubt it. Sometimes they have people fight animals or machines, sometimes
they’re contests of throwing or hitting things or eating things that… Well, you
can guess.”

“It’s likely to be the least of my issues, but I’d rather
not think about it, thanks.” Devonne continued to pace the room, too upset to
settle down. “I don’t believe this. I just don’t friggin’ believe this.” She
pounded a fist down on the room’s only table. “Damn. Can I talk to Raje?”

“I’ll see if it can be arranged.”

He tapped buttons and sent messages. After a few minutes he
looked up and said, “They’ll be here shortly.”

“They?”

“Prince Reginald and his attorney.”

“Of course.”

It took them almost half an hour to arrive. Devonne wondered
how she would feel about seeing Raje again and how he would react to her. When
the door opened and the two men entered her heart lurched at the sight of him.

“You didn’t go with them as peacefully as I did,” she said
directly to him, studying the dark bruise under his right eye, the abraded
patch on his temple and a swelling cut on his lower lip. He moved stiffly,
suggesting other injuries hidden by his clothes. “Are you all right?”

He shrugged and nodded. “No serious damage.” He watched her.
His gaze held concern, plus hunger and longing, just barely kept in check.
“They didn’t hurt you.”

“There wasn’t any fight. They threatened to destroy my ship
and crew, so I turned myself over to them.”

“I was in dock on Alster. They grabbed me on the street.” He
drew a deep breath and looked at the two lawyers. “Can we speak privately for a
few minutes?” He nodded toward Devonne.

Whetlock threw a quick questioning glance at Devonne. She
nodded to him, and he turned to the other lawyer. “I believe we need to discuss
strategy for a few minutes.” The two of them left.

A hush filled the small room for a moment after they
departed. Raje crossed the room to stop close to her. “I’m sorry,” he said.