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Authors: REBECCA YORK
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controls. Eyes narrowed, he went through the drill again, but the screen didn’t change. There was a Farlian in the house.
A wave of anger and hatred surged through him. Farlian and Dorre might come from the same human stock and claim Earth as their common ancestral home, but the only thing they had in common anymore was the war they’d fought for the right to rule Thindar.
Six months ago, just before the armistice, one of the slat-eating bastards had caught him below the knee with an energy blast that injected tissue poison. Amputation from the wound down had saved his life, but it hadn’t stopped the pain that continually invaded the rest of his leg. Nor had it lessened his rage at Farlians.
If it weren’t for the oppressive bastards, the Dorre never would have been forced to go to war. After abandoning the inhospitable planet where they’d lived, the Farlians had migrated to Thindar and colonized it. When the Dorre had arrived a hundred years later, on a generation ship from Earth that was at the end of its resources, the Farlians had saved his people’s lives with food and medicine.
Then, when the newcomers had begun to prosper, the Farlians, afraid of losing power, had passed laws that made it impossible for Dorre to enter good schools, hold office, or even own property. A caste system had developed; his people were forced into the underclass—while the Farlians had consolidated relations with other space-traveling races, creating off-world trading partnerships, all the while growing ever richer and more arrogant.
Until the Dorre had risen in rebellion.
From the console, Link silently switched on some lights. Then he moved quietly toward the storage compartment where the sensors indicated the intruder was hiding.
His hand on the pressure trigger of his gun, he yanked open the metal door, nearly killing the Farlian behind it before seeing it was a female. A mane of red hair hid her face.
Grabbing her by the sleeve, he wrenched her into the open and tossed her onto the floor. She lay curled away from him, her ivory skin blotched by fear, her slender legs trembling visibly below a short tunic. Yet it was with regal bearing that she sat up and swept the fall of hair away from her exotic green eyes.
The sight of her familiar features knocked the breath out of him. “Kasimanda!”
She’d been beautiful as a child, more so as an adolescent. But now . . . by Atherdan, she was stunning. The pale skin, the cat-like eyes, and the wild red hair created a vision that called to him with a familiar, forbidden longing. For an instant, he wondered if this was really her or some dream from his subconscious come to life.
Her gaze flicked from his face to the laser pistol in his hand. “Would you kill me, Link?” she asked in that musical voice he instantly discovered still had the power to stir his senses.
He pulled himself together. “Why shouldn’t I? This is forbidden territory for a Farlian.”
Doubt kindled in her eyes. “We were . . . friends.”
“ Friends .” He threw the word back at her. Dorre and Farlian could not be friends. Yet he and the highborn Kasimanda of Renfaral had played together as children. And when they had reached adolescence, he had longed for more than friendship.
His eyes must have given him away, because he saw her relax a fraction.
“How did you get here?” he demanded.
She pushed herself off the floor and stood facing him defiantly. “Bribes.”
“I hope you didn’t spend too much, because you’re leaving. Now,” he said, emphasizing the last word.
She shook her head. “No.”
He made his voice flat and hard. “You can’t stay.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Then kill me now.”
“I don’t kill women.”
“No?” She raised her chin. “A Dorre raiding party killed my mother and sister. Are you so different?”
Sickened, though not surprised, by the news, he asked, “And they spared you?”
He saw her stiffen, swallow. “My mother pushed me into the refuse
A wave of anger and hatred surged through him. Farlian and Dorre might come from the same human stock and claim Earth as their common ancestral home, but the only thing they had in common anymore was the war they’d fought for the right to rule Thindar.
Six months ago, just before the armistice, one of the slat-eating bastards had caught him below the knee with an energy blast that injected tissue poison. Amputation from the wound down had saved his life, but it hadn’t stopped the pain that continually invaded the rest of his leg. Nor had it lessened his rage at Farlians.
If it weren’t for the oppressive bastards, the Dorre never would have been forced to go to war. After abandoning the inhospitable planet where they’d lived, the Farlians had migrated to Thindar and colonized it. When the Dorre had arrived a hundred years later, on a generation ship from Earth that was at the end of its resources, the Farlians had saved his people’s lives with food and medicine.
Then, when the newcomers had begun to prosper, the Farlians, afraid of losing power, had passed laws that made it impossible for Dorre to enter good schools, hold office, or even own property. A caste system had developed; his people were forced into the underclass—while the Farlians had consolidated relations with other space-traveling races, creating off-world trading partnerships, all the while growing ever richer and more arrogant.
Until the Dorre had risen in rebellion.
From the console, Link silently switched on some lights. Then he moved quietly toward the storage compartment where the sensors indicated the intruder was hiding.
His hand on the pressure trigger of his gun, he yanked open the metal door, nearly killing the Farlian behind it before seeing it was a female. A mane of red hair hid her face.
Grabbing her by the sleeve, he wrenched her into the open and tossed her onto the floor. She lay curled away from him, her ivory skin blotched by fear, her slender legs trembling visibly below a short tunic. Yet it was with regal bearing that she sat up and swept the fall of hair away from her exotic green eyes.
The sight of her familiar features knocked the breath out of him. “Kasimanda!”
She’d been beautiful as a child, more so as an adolescent. But now . . . by Atherdan, she was stunning. The pale skin, the cat-like eyes, and the wild red hair created a vision that called to him with a familiar, forbidden longing. For an instant, he wondered if this was really her or some dream from his subconscious come to life.
Her gaze flicked from his face to the laser pistol in his hand. “Would you kill me, Link?” she asked in that musical voice he instantly discovered still had the power to stir his senses.
He pulled himself together. “Why shouldn’t I? This is forbidden territory for a Farlian.”
Doubt kindled in her eyes. “We were . . . friends.”
“ Friends .” He threw the word back at her. Dorre and Farlian could not be friends. Yet he and the highborn Kasimanda of Renfaral had played together as children. And when they had reached adolescence, he had longed for more than friendship.
His eyes must have given him away, because he saw her relax a fraction.
“How did you get here?” he demanded.
She pushed herself off the floor and stood facing him defiantly. “Bribes.”
“I hope you didn’t spend too much, because you’re leaving. Now,” he said, emphasizing the last word.
She shook her head. “No.”
He made his voice flat and hard. “You can’t stay.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Then kill me now.”
“I don’t kill women.”
“No?” She raised her chin. “A Dorre raiding party killed my mother and sister. Are you so different?”
Sickened, though not surprised, by the news, he asked, “And they spared you?”
He saw her stiffen, swallow. “My mother pushed me into the refuse
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