Pirate Nemesis (Telepathic Space Pirates Book 1) (8 page)

What the fuck happened?

She was being held by Talented. One of them released a lethal mental poison into her mind.

Reaper waited out the string of profanity from Cannon. Wolfgang Hades was a valuable contact for the pirates. This meant he was privy to more of their secrets than was strictly comfortable, and making an enemy of him could be problematic.

If it becomes an issue,
said Reaper evenly,
I will remove him.

Don’t you think I’ve already thought of that? I’m not worried about what to do with Wolfgang if his daughter dies. I’m worried about losing one of our primary sources of intel inside of the Commonwealth. One we need now more than ever. Why was his daughter targeted? Does Veritas know of our connection to him?

Cannon was referring to the organization of Talented working from within the Commonwealth of Sovereign Planets. Unlike the pirates, who turned outlaw in order to survive the order prohibiting Talent, Veritas remained within the core, civilized worlds, hiding in plain sight. Although they functioned in secret, they could move throughout the Commonwealth freely. This allowed them privileges unknown to the pirates. They could, for example, hunt and find Talented people trying to live unknown and undiscovered, recruiting them to their organization. They used their gifts to manipulate the nulls around them, up to and including planetary representatives, and rumor had it, even the monarchy itself. They also saw their pirate brethren as a threat and had, over the years, taken increasingly bold steps to remove them.

I don’t think she was the target,
Reaper said.

Cannon was silent for a moment.
The friend taken with her,
you’re referring to her?

Reaper looked across at Mercy. Once he took this step, there could be no going back. No last minute reversal of his decision to let her live. Not without consequences he would be forced to endure. For better or worse, everything was about to change.

Reaper?

I have found Pallas’s daughter,
he said at last.
Her name is Mercy. She is Atrea Hades’ friend, and she is Talented.

Reaper was no empath, but he didn’t need to feel Cannon’s shock radiating across the link to hear it in the silence that stretched on and on. It was not just a matter of finding one of their own who had been lost for so long. Cannon was also of Lilith’s line, his mother, Nemain, having been a sister to Pallas. Mercy would be his cousin.

You’re certain?
There was nothing lazy in Cannon’s voice now.

Very. As you will be, when you see her.

Ah. The genes breed true, as ever.
A touch of amusement softened his tone.
We are all of us a bit alike, however hard we try to deny it. And she is Talented, you say? Not a surprise, given her parentage. This is good news, indeed.
The pirates had grave need of Talented people, particularly women, to bolster their population.
How does she strike you? It’s hard to imagine one of us growing up outside of this backbiting and charmingly vicious family.

Reaper thought back to his first meeting with Mercy, the one he’d never spoken of to anyone, the one he kept buried so deep even his brother Treon would have trouble digging it out. A child, terrified and alone, she’d stared at him across that spaceport and asked him to let her go. And he’d done it.

Strong. Her captors subjected her to rigorous testing and experimentation, for weeks. Yet she picked up a disrupter with the intention of shooting us if she felt the need.

Shooting you?
Cannon laughed.
All of you?
Strong, and I would say either brave, or extremely ignorant.

Both.

Well, ignorance we can cure. She’ll be needing that bravery. Where do you see her fitting into the hierarchy?

Lilith had had several children, each with children of their own, and, in addition to strong Talent, nearly all harbored a hunger for power. This led to a sprawling family, constantly battling one another for position and influence. As king, Cannon stood above them all, but he had been forced to kill several of his own cousins over the years. Many waited hungrily for him to make a mistake they could use to topple him. Mercy, Reaper knew, would be the equivalent of a bomb going off in the midst of all that, simply due to her existence. There was no way to soften that for Cannon.

She is a queen
.
It remains to be seen if she will be another Lilith.

For the second time, Reaper heard the shock in Cannon’s silence. It lasted for so long, he began to question whether the link had severed. In the end, Cannon’s response came so softly, Reaper had to strain to hear it.

Mother help us all.

M
ercy woke slowly
. The bunk beneath her was familiar, too hard, and for a despairing, confused second she thought she was waking from a cruel dream and she would find herself still captive on the space station. Then unfamiliar sounds assailed her, voices she didn’t know, and an odd electronic hum she couldn’t immediately place. She realized her bunk was covered in soft linens, lying against her skin like fluffy clouds that felt so luxurious, it nearly brought tears to her eyes. A familiar antiseptic smell hit her nose, and she stiffened. The scent was unmistakable. She was in a medical facility.

Memory returned in a rush. Reaper, the ship, falling asleep.

She froze, not moving, doing her best to keep her muscles from tensing, wanting a few solitary moments to get her bearings before anyone realized she was conscious. The stupid machines betrayed her.

“Her heartbeat’s picked up. She’s awake.” The voice sounded young and female, like a teenager’s.

“Good. Right on schedule.” Male, older, with a faint accent Mercy couldn’t immediately identify.

“It’s about time.” This was said with a sniff of disdain, the voice female, and somehow more mature than the other two.

“I told you,” said the male voice with more than a hint of clipped impatience. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here, Vashti.”

“Too bad. If you think I’m leaving now, you can think again, Hikaru Jiro. I’ve already waited for nearly three days. I’m not waiting any longer.”

“Doc,” the male voice muttered. “
Everyone
calls me Doc.”

“
Everyone
clearly doesn’t remember when you tried to be captain of your own ship, marauding across the galaxy. I do.” A pause. “Bet you didn’t know that, did you girl? Even
Doc
has his secrets.”

The young girl laughed. The man muttered something in a language Mercy didn’t know. It didn’t sound complimentary. She gave up the sham and opened her eyes.

A woman sat beside the bed, her long, silver hair streaked with black. She held a walking stick in one hand, elegant fingers lined with age curved around the knob. She wore a long blue robe wrapped around her slim frame, the waist belted with an elaborately embroidered length of fabric. Her skin was a few shades darker than Mercy’s, but when she turned her head, familiar green eyes looked back at Mercy. Her own eyes.

She stiffened, and the old woman smiled gently.

“Yes, I know, I look a great deal like my sister. But Lilith is long dead, my dear. You have nothing to fear from me.” She reached one wizened hand over, and squeezed Mercy’s fingers. “I’m sure you don’t remember, being so young. I helped the two of you escape, you know. You and your mother. My name is Vashti.” She paused, and then continued on when Mercy said nothing. “I suppose something untoward has happened to Pallas, if she isn’t with you.”

A trace of hope laced the statement, almost turning it into a question. Mercy spent a long moment searching the other woman’s face, noting the lines that seemed given to smiles. That didn’t mean she trusted her, or believed a word she said.

“She’s dead,” Mercy said at last, the word heavy with her own sense of loss. After so long, it was hard not to believe the statement herself. She didn’t imagine the sadness that clouded the other woman’s eyes.

“I see. Well, she would be pleased that you’ve returned to us, after all this time.”

“Would she?” Mercy couldn’t quite stop the challenge from leaving her lips. “She spent my entire life leading me away from you, training me how to remain lost.”

Vashti sighed. “I see trust will take time. She did all of that because her mother, my sister, wanted to kill you.
Lilith
wanted you dead, Mercy. Not me. Not the rest of us.” That hand squeezed her fingers again, a gesture meant to comfort. “For now, know that I am personally delighted to see my great-niece again. For so long, I feared I never would.” Vashti turned, gesturing behind her.

“The taciturn man looming over us is Hikaru Jiro, but as I’m sure you heard, he prefers to be called Doc.”

At this, the man pushed forward, brushing by Vashti with his dark eyes focused on the datapad in his hand. His black hair was lightly salted with grey, and combed as ruthlessly straight as his clothing. He glanced at Mercy, a frown fixed across his face.

“Your red blood cell count has improved, and your muscle tone has increased, thanks to neuromuscular stimulation. You have Nayla to thank for that.” He nodded toward the girl, who Mercy saw wasn’t as young as she’d first perceived. Somewhere between eighteen and twenty-one. She had long, dark hair pulled back into an efficient braid, mesmerizing eyes that were pools of clear blue, and a scattering of freckles across her nose. In contrast to Doc’s stark expression, Nayla gave Mercy a huge smile.

“I’m so happy you’re doing better. I tried to fix your hair for you, too, but I’m afraid I didn’t get as far as I’d hoped.”

Mercy put a hand reflexively to her head, and was surprised to run her fingers through three to four inches of new, soft hair. Doc scowled even more.

“I told you, growing hair is an absolute waste of your Talent.” He sounded furious. “Purely cosmetic!”

Nayla just shrugged, seemingly unmoved by his disapproval. “If someone shaved my head, I’d probably cry,” she confided to Mercy. “I thought you might feel better if you had at least a little hair when you woke up.”

“Thank you.” Mercy didn’t know what else to say, given Doc’s obvious agitation. She was certainly glad to have more than a short, prickly stubble covering her head. “It was kind of you.”

“
Bakana onna no ko
,” muttered Doc. His tone made it clear he didn’t approve, whatever the words meant. He glared a Mercy as though he blamed her. “Now, you. How do you feel? Headache?”

Mercy took a moment to take stock. The edge of exhaustion that had been with her for so long was gone. She felt rested, hungry, and strangely anxious. An uneasy feeling hovered over her, and it took a moment to pinpoint why.

“Where’s Reaper?” she asked.

Doc started in surprise. He exchanged a look with Vashti, so quick Mercy couldn’t identify his expression.

“Reaper has many duties,” he said. “None of them in the infirmary. Did you need him for something?”

Mercy didn’t know what to think of the odd disappointment she experienced. What did it matter where the man was? She’d met him for all of five minutes. Annoyed with herself, she shoved the anxious feeling aside.

“No,” she said. “Just curious.”

“It would be best to avoid curiosity where Reaper is concerned,” Doc told her. Mercy had the feeling he meant every word, as though warning her to keep her distance was a kindness. “Now, how are you feeling?”

“No headache,” she told him. “I’m hungry, though.” She said this last a little warily, hoping they wouldn’t hand her a nutritional bar.

“Yes, yes.” Doc waved this away as inconsequential. “A meal is already being prepared. Sit up slowly, and tell me if you experience any dizziness, nausea, or discomfort.”

Mercy did as instructed, and noticed the shape of the room as she shifted upright, the limited space and nano-graph paneling, conducting light to panels inlaid into the ceiling. Now that she thought about it, she could feel the low vibration of engines.

“We’re on a ship,” she said aloud. A really big ship, given the distance of the engines and the space allocated for an infirmary.

“Yes, brilliant deduction,” Doc said. “Your head?”

“It’s fine. I feel great, actually.”

Nayla beamed happily at Mercy. The girl was so earnest and genuine, she couldn’t help but smile back. Then she glimpsed something sitting across the room that wiped away all of her tentative good feelings. A blue stasis field, about the length of a person, hovered in an empty suite. In an instant, all of Mercy’s concerns for herself were swallowed by worry for her friend. It became easy to box up her fears and put them away.

“Atrea!” Mercy moved to push herself down from the medical bunk she was sitting on, and a steely grip closed around her arm.

“No,” said Doc. “You leave when I say you’re finished.”

Maybe it was the way she’d been constantly moved and handled by Willem Frain and his people, but the sudden surge of anger that swept through Mercy shocked her. She was actually shaking, the realization distant behind the haze of emotion.

“Oh dear,” said Vashti, eyeing the two of them.

“Get your hand off me.” Mercy enunciated each word.

Doc let her go, but did not back away. He was crowding the table too closely for Mercy to jump down without shoving into him. “You won’t do your friend any good if you collapse halfway across the room. She’s stable, for the moment.”

Mercy stared at him incredulously. “She’s in stasis.”

“Yes, which means her condition isn’t changing anytime soon.” Doc scowled at her. “Yours, on the other hand…”

“Is that a threat?”

Doc threw his hands into the air, one still holding the datapad.

“
Bakana yatsura kara, sukutte kure
!”

Mercy was pretty sure whatever he’d said was some kind of insult. “Listen, you piece of—”

“Let’s everyone take a moment and calm down.” Vashti’s voice was cool and collected. “Mercy, I assure you, everything that can be done for Atrea is being done. Her father would never settle for anything less. Doc, you must understand that Mercy has been through quite an ordeal. She has no real reason to trust us.”

“Yes,” snapped Doc, “saving her life and returning her to health is certainly not enough of a reason.”

“
Reaper
saved my life.” Mercy glared at him. “I don’t know what you’ve been doing. I’ve been unconscious for three days.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized that was part of her problem; she didn’t know what had happened to her here, or back on that space station. Not knowing was a weight in her chest that hurt, like a physical sense of pressure. She rubbed at it with one hand, but it did nothing to ease it. “I’m tired of not knowing what the hell is happening to me.”

Doc eyed her, and something in his expression softened. “I assure you, we took no samples, did nothing beyond treating your injuries and overall condition. I would never violate any of my patients.” He eased back a step to give her more space. “You have my word as a physician.”

Mercy wished she could believe that, but she just didn’t know what to trust, or who. These were the very people her mother had spent years hiding from. Then something Vashti had said penetrated, and Mercy looked around the room. “Wolfgang is here?”

Vashti smiled, tilted her head slightly. “Of course. Where else would he be?”

“Where—where is he, then?” Mercy couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t be here, ordering someone to do
something
to help Atrea. Some of that pressure in her chest eased. Wolfgang would never have let them do anything to hurt her. That much she was certain of.

Vashti waved a hand in the air. “I made him go and eat something. He’s barely left either of you in three days. You were clearly recovering, and no one knows quite what to do for Atrea yet, poor dear. There was really no point in his constant hovering.” She gave Mercy’s hand a quick pat. “Now that you’re awake, I’m sure he’ll be here very soon.”

“You
made
Wolfgang Hades get something to eat?” No one ordered the old Wolf around.

“Of course.”

Mercy stared at this old woman, with her easy expression and fond smile. “You pressured him, didn’t you? With Talent?”

Vashti gave a careless shrug. “For his own good. The man had barely eaten since you went missing. With you finally safe, it was time he did.”

“May I finish my examination now?” Doc framed it as a question, but there was no mistaking the stiff irritation in his tone, or the fact that it wasn’t really a request.

Calmer now, Mercy gave him an amused look. “Has anyone ever told you that you have the worst bedside manner?”

“Oh yes, dear,” said Vashti. “Everyone says that.”

Doc cast her an irritated look. “I’ve had about enough of you—”

“Doc.”

The word was spoken with such quiet authority, it arrested the attention of everyone in the room. Mercy turned her head to see a man standing in the doorway of the hatch, tall, with wide shoulders. He took up the entire space, and not just physically. He wore a casual white shirt tucked into a worn pair of armored pants. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, showing muscular forearms. His dark hair hung loose around his shoulders, and the stubble of beard marking his face made it seem like he hadn’t cared enough to shave in a day or two. He could have been anything. A smuggler, a deck hand, a dock worker. The sheer presence that came with him when he stepped into the room said he was something more.

Subdued, Doc ducked his head and muttered to himself under his breath. Vashti sat down as if she just didn’t have the strength to stand any longer. She favored the newcomer with a smile that radiated innocence, and he looked back with a raised eyebrow that said he didn’t buy it for an instant.

“Cannon!” Only Nayla seemed unaffected, crossing the room to give him a quick hug, which he returned briefly before turning his attention to Mercy.

He had the same green eyes as Vashti.

“Let me guess,” Mercy said, feeling an odd sense of the surreal. “We’re family.” For so long, she’d been alone. Now suddenly she was related to everyone she met. It was disconcerting.

“Cousins,” Cannon confirmed. “My mother was Pallas’s older sister, Nemain.”

Mercy shrugged. She knew the family tree. Pallas had drilled the names into her, so she knew her mother had three sisters: Nemain, Athena, and Macha. Just like she knew Vashti was really her great-Aunt.

“And your name is Cannon?” she asked drily.

He gave her a lazy smile, his teeth a flash of white against the golden bronze of his skin. It transformed his face from merely good looking to wielding a wicked sensuality.
Wow
, she thought. Charming didn’t begin to cover it, and she had a feeling he was only half trying.
I bet women throw themselves at his feet.

“Our family tends toward unconventional names.” He paused, his grin widening. “Mercy.”