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CHAPTER1
Subcommander Jackasarian D’Frostulen knew something was wrong. The ship was shaking wildly, throwing him painfully from one side of his hiding place to the other before he finally managed to wedge himself into a corner. Another abrupt change of direction, and then his stomach churned as they momentarily lost gravity. When it returned, it slammed him against the metal walls like an invisible hand.
What was happening? Ambassador Nicholsarian was the finest pilot that Jackasarian knew. Then again, he was the finest everything – the finest officer, the finest swordsman, and the epitome of a Tandroki warrior. An attainment that he would never reach - as Nicholsarian had been only too pleased to point out.
But despite the ambassador’s icy perfection, something had obviously been bothering him for the past few months. He had been desperate to find out why – hoping that even a shred of information might save him from what appeared to be the inevitable fate of being dismissed from the Tandroki forces.
When he had first been appointed to the position of attaché to the ambassador, he had been delighted, assuming it was an indication that he had been truly accepted as last. Nicholsarian had been quick to disillusion him. He had been appointed solely because of his lineage, and the ambassador had no intention of allowing him to remain.
He’d been investigating the ambassador’s ship when Nicholsarian returned and in a fit of panic, had hidden himself in an unused bulkhead storage locker. He hadn’t expected the ship to take off, but once it did, he saw no option but to remain in hiding throughout the journey, sneaking out at night in order to scavenge for rations. Every day he had hoped that the flight would come to an end, but he hadn’t expected it to end like this. As far as he could tell the ship was out of control and they were about to crash. An ignominious end to an ignominious career.
The ship lurched again, then began a wild spiraling fall, throwing him around so violently that he couldn’t remain braced in the corner and tumbled helplessly around the small compartment. His head cracked against one wall and his hip against another, before the final impact threw him against the floor with bruising force.
He blacked out for an undetermined amount of time. When he regained consciousness, he was sick and dizzy, every muscle in his body aching. There was no sound from the surrounding ship, just the faint click of cooling metal. He couldn’t stay hidden any longer. After a brief fight with the warped metal of the storage locker, he managed to force the door open. The ship was still absolutely silent. Where was Ambassador Nicholsarian?
His instincts urged him to run – to get away as far away as possible before the ambassador regained consciousness - but his brain insisted it would be best to know what happened. He crept cautiously towards the front of the ship, noting that despite the impact, the ship still appeared structurally intact.
The door to the bridge was open and he saw the ambassador sagging against the harness of the pilot’s chair, blood trickling down his face.Skef.Was this his fault? Had his presence on the ship affected Nicholsarian’s calculations and caused the crash? What if Nicholsarian was… dead? He took a step closer, and to his relief saw that the ambassador was still breathing.Thank Moroz.
As much as he had suffered trying to live up to Nicholsarian’s standards, he didn’t want to see him dead. But just how badly was he injured?
He made his way back to the medical unit and grabbed the portable scanner. Ambassador Nicholsarian moaned as he returned, his eyelids flickering, but he didn’t regain consciousness as Jackasarian ran the scanner over him. A minor head wound, superficial despite the blood still trickling down from beneath his horns.
His relief was followed by despair. What was he going to do now? He had no doubt that once Nicholsarian regained consciousness, he would be looking for a reason for the crash. He was equally sure that once the ambassador discovered him, he would be blamed. If Jackasarian was lucky, the ambassador would give him the opportunity to defend himself, even though he stood no chance against the other male’s superior skills. There was also the distinct possibility that the ambassador would not consider him worthy of the honor and would simply eliminate him.
His first instinct – the instinct to run - reappeared as he peered out of the ship. They had landed amidst some trees, trees planted in a random arrangement that would never have been permitted on Tandrok. Even worse, some white substance was falling from the sky and accumulating on the ground. He searched rapidly through the files on his portable data unit.Snow.A frozen substance that fell from the sky at irregular interviews. How… intriguing. Such an occurrence would never have been permitted on Tandrok.
He hesitated again, looking out at the uncontrolled weather and the irregular placement of the trees. He should be appalled, but then he had never fit into the precisely ordered world of Tandrok. He was not entirely Tandroki, and he had never been allowed to forget it. Just as his mother had never been allowed to forget her mixed heritage.
He had often wondered why his father had chosen to join with her. His mother had told him once that it had been for love, but that was not a concept that applied to most Tandroki matings. They were arranged for wealth or social position or mutual advantage. If his father had ever succumbed to such an emotion, he must have long since forgotten it. He treated Jackasarian’s mother with the same icy disdain with which he treated Jackasarian. They were constantly watched and measured against a standard that was impossible to meet.
He had a few distant memories from when he was very young of his mother laughing, even singing, but by the time he was sent away for his military training that had all ceased. His mother played the part of a proper Tandroki mate to icy perfection. She had addressed him formally and bid him farewell in a cool icy voice, but as he turned to enter the transport, he saw her fists clench and realized that her hands were shaking. He’d wanted to go to her, but his father had noticed too, stepping closer and frowning down at her. Instead, he had forced himself to enter the transport. It was the last time he’d seen.
Both of his parents had died the following year in an accident and at ten years old he found himself orphaned and the leader of his house. It made little difference – he still carried the stigma of his non-Tandroki blood. No one ever mentioned it, but the knowledge was always there in their eyes when they looked at him. Whenever he did something that was not quite right, not quite the epitome of Tandroki perfection, he could feel the weight of their disapproval.
Since the ambassador showed no immediate sign of regaining consciousness, he decided he would take the opportunity to find out more about their situation. He bent over the console, searching for information about their current location. K.R.S. Three, an uninhabited planet that had been mapped at some point in the past and then ignored. The records indicated that it contained no sentient life forms. He began a quick survey to verify the findings and almost immediately received a signal, then another.
Technology was in use on the planet, primitive to be sure, but technology nonetheless. Could intelligent life have developed so quickly? There was always the possibility that it had been overlooked before, but the Tandroki were usually quite thorough when checking for potential enemies. He studied the output again. The technology was primarily in small clusters along the coast, with a few larger clusters further inland. The interior of the continent was essentially empty - except for one location.
A bright spot, close to the edge of the mountains that dominated the eastern side of the continent. Based on the strength of the signal, it indicated a very sophisticated power source, perhaps even enough to power a spaceship. Was that why the ambassador had come? To meet with someone away from prying eyes? And if so, was that his answer?
The ambassador groaned, and he froze, expecting the other male’s eyes to open. They did not, but he knew he was running out of time. He looked back at that blinking spot on the map, then he aimed his date unit at it and recorded the location. It might not be a ship, it might not even be enough technology to secure the appropriate level of comfort for a Tandroki warrior, but at least it was a chance. A chance he was prepared to take.
Ambassador Nicholsarian moaned again and Jackasarian shivered, already imagining the icy contempt of those eyes surveying him.No.He never wanted to face him again. He ducked back down the hallway, grabbed a travel bag, and quickly filled it with everything he could think of to aid his survival. In addition to a drone and a selection of travel rations, he removed several sets of nanites from their crystalline matrix. Pulling on a white survival suit, designed to regulate his body temperature, he grabbed his bag of stolen items, and left the ship.
The snow covered the ground past his ankles - an odd, but not entirely unpleasant sensation as he made his way across the clearing. Before entering the trees, he paused to look back. From here, the damage to the ship was scarcely noticeable. It would undoubtedly take some work to repair, but he was sure that Nicholsarian would complete those repairs with his usual icy competence - and then he would leave.
If he did not remain with the ship, he could lose all possibility of ever returning to Tandrok. The thought should appall him. Instead, he found himself grinning as the weight of expectations he would never meet and a way of life that had never suited him lifted. If he died on this unknown planet – which seemed entirely possible – at least he would be facing on his own terms. He slipped into the trees.
CHAPTER2
“What will you give me for her?” Katerina’s father asked, and her heart skipped a beat.
Dammit. She had suspected he was up to something. He had sent her off to bed with a gruff command but as soon as he was out of sight she had snuck back through the caravan to spy on his meeting with Guyten. She had expected him to have some kind of nefarious plan, but she hadn’t expected him to be trying to sell her off.
“I don’t know. She is rather… willful.”
The sound of the second voice made her fists clench even more tightly at her sides, but along with the anger was the sickening dread in her stomach. Guyten was the chief of the other caravan. The two had crossed paths earlier that day and decided to share camp and do some trading.I didn’t expect to be one of the trade goods, she thought bitterly,
