Love's Slave: Love Trilogy, #2

By Mary Newman

Newly appointed Ambassador of Arel, Bendel Sologne, is on a mission to find and dismantle a secret cabal who has been working behind the scenes to destroy the very fabric of the Union of Planets. His investigation takes him from B'dar, where he has just helped his brother and sister-in-law uncover the conspirators within their midst, to the newest Union member, the planet of Olan II. A disabled space ship of former slaves provides clues, as well as the exotically beautiful Captain Mila, who knocks the always in control Bendel, off his pedestal.

Mila and her crew of former slaves just want to make a living running cargoes from one planet to another. That's something their former master, Lorg Jartan, is just not going to allow. He's decided if he can't have them, no one can, and has set out to recapture or destroy them. When he almost succeeds, Mila and her crew are rescued by none other than the arrogant First Son of Arel, Ambassador Bendel Sologne. The fireworks are immediate. Mila appreciates the assistance, but she isn't about to repay the ambassador in the way he seems to think she should.

Together, they follow a trail filled with treachery and danger, to uncover not only the secret cabal, but the mysterious origins of Mila and the powerful heritage that is hers to claim.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Newman
• Release date: Jun 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781533728289

Book preview

Dedication

For Alan Brandt Futrell (1945 – 2013), my love, my life, and my greatest supporter.

Table of Contents

Dedication

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

Glossary

About the Author

Prologue

A silent figure paused momentarily in front of the open window where he had only moments ago climbed through. Shaking his head in derision, he moved stealthily forward. They always made it so easy this close to Union headquarters. Using the moonlight he found the cradle to one side of the room and then looked around for another bed, knowing a nurse was probably sleeping close by. He heard a slight snort and froze, but continued on once he’d located the source. Using a garrote he’d carried with him, he made short work of the slumbering woman who took care of the babe. He didn’t want anything to get in the way of his mission.

Approaching the cradle he jerked back slightly when he saw two dark-as-midnight eyes watching him curiously from within. The babe lifted a chubby hand to him and gurgled. The assassin eyed the infant with distaste. He didn’t care for the killing of infants, but his instructions had been clear. This one had to die. He wasn’t bothered by the intrigues of those who had hired him and could care less what motivated them. The baby represented nothing more than a sizeable payment to him.

Voices from outside the room startled him. Damn! They weren’t supposed to have returned from their engagement yet! As the voices came nearer, he reached forward and grabbed the cooing infant, wrapping it in a blanket from the cradle and stuffing it into his shirt. He made his way quickly to the open window and climbed through, shimmying his way back down the outer wall. His foot touched the ground and he took off at a sprint, keeping to the dark shadows of the trees and bushes of the compound. A few more steps and he would be in the clear. Lights were coming on in the house and he could hear voices raising the alarm. He turned once to look back just as a figure detached itself from the shadows. A sharp blow and then there was nothing.

Hearing a baby cry out when the body hit the ground, the interloper swore. He bent over the downed body and ripped the shirt open. Gathering the infant to him he shushed it and melted back into the shadows. At least the failed assassin had paid for his error in judgment, he thought smugly.

Fool, he muttered more to himself, than to the now-quiet infant he held. Master will have to decide what to do with you now.

Tucking the bundle more securely to him, he climbed into the waiting shuttle cloaked in shadows, silently lifted from the ground, and headed into space.

Chapter 1

He’s closin’ fast Cap’n.

Nil, navigator for the Sundog, kept his yellow eyes intently on the computer screen before him, lines of strain etched deeply in his young face. The skin exposed by his sleeveless ship’s jumpsuit, which was normally vibrant green like all the natives of Olan II, had dulled to an almost olive shade and taken on a slight yellow cast, betraying his fear.

An explosion rocked the ship, sending a careless crew member to the floor.

Everyone get into their safety harness! Mila snapped from the captain’s seat. Damages, Fael?

Captain of the Sundog for the past five years, Mila stared at the rapidly approaching pirate ship on the main view screen with dark, almond-shaped eyes that tilted just slightly at the corner to give her a rather exotic look. She impatiently shoved a lock of curly sable-colored hair from her delicate face, revealing the recent circular scar which marred the tawny skin of her forehead, remnants of the removal of the surgically embedded obedience or ‘slave’ disc. Contrary to most of the other slaves her former master had owned, her dainty features and slender physique hid an incredible energy and force of will, a fact that provided her crew with much amusement. Especially when that will was pitted against the many large males she had found she needed to deal with on their trading ventures. It was that same dominant will that had kept Mila sane through twenty-three years of being with Lorg Jartan, a wealthy Olanian slave holder, the last twelve as that of a slave, despite his best efforts to bend her to his wishes. Not even the slave discs had been able to force her to kill in her previous forced occupation as space pirate. A detail that was just one more in the long list of grievances Lorg believed he held against her now.

Solar shields at thirty percent, engines operating less than fifty percent capacity, weapons systems are down, reported Fael, her furred fingers, complete with retractable claws, worked frantically over the engineering console. We can’t take another hit like that Captain. We’ll need to find someplace safe to land soon to make necessary repairs.

Nil, anything within range? Mila asked, trying to mask her worry.

There’s a dense asteroid belt at mark zero two seven. We may be able to lose him there.

How far are we from Union space?

We’re in it now, Cap’n.

He’s either getting very brave or stupid!

Lorg has never been known for his intelligence, Captain, Fael observed, with a twitch of her whiskered nose. Just his persistence once he’s made up his mind; and, of course, his brutality.

Head for the asteroid belt, Brock, let’s see some of that fancy flying you keep bragging about or we won’t be around to deliver this cargo!

Aye, Captain!

Strapped into a safety harness, Mila could still feel herself being wrenched about with the motions of the ship as Brock expertly guided the craft through a series of maneuvers designed to throw off their attacker’s aim. The asteroid field loomed ahead but Mila didn’t call for a reduction in their speed. Damage from hitting any of the asteroids was the least of her worries at this point.

Her face an expressionless mask to hide the terror lurking just beneath the surface, Mila surveyed her motley bridge officers. Former slaves as she was, they had been freed two months past when Olan II had joined the Union of Planets. As a condition of joining the powerful consortium, the government had reluctantly abolished the slave trade that had been a major part of its economy for the past five centuries.

Clad in a sleeveless ship jumpsuit, as were all her crew, V’yal, her first mate and weapons officer, bore the green skin, yellow-irised eyes, and hairless body of a native of Olan II, their home world. With the weapons system currently inoperable, his six-fingered hands worked rapidly over the secondary computerized control panel before him as he gathered data and worked out possible solutions. They had been together through much, including the forced practice of piracy while still under Lorg’s cruel thumb. She had no idea how old V’yal actually was, since he had been an adult when Lorg had given him to her fifteen years previously. He never spoke of family or even had a casual mate that she knew of. Their shared experiences had forged an unshakable friendship that Mila cherished.

With her long, luxuriant orange and blue splotched fur that grew even longer around her face, reminding Mila of the manes sported by the lizons of Olan II, and long, prehensile tail, Fael was the most exotic of her crew. A cat woman from the planet of Felosa, she had been captured and enslaved fifteen years earlier at the age of eighteen, which more than beat the odds of other Felosans who rarely survived long in captivity. Mila greatly admired her free spirit which Lorg had not been able to break, though he had tried greatly. Fael’s keen wit and sometimes mischievous sense of humor had helped to keep crew morale from plunging to despair, even when Lorg had been at his most barbarous. Of course, Fael had other gifts which the male members of the crew appreciated. Feeling it was none of her business as long as the lusty cat woman controlled any jealousy among the men, Mila tended to turn a blind eye to her exploits.

Another native of Olan II, Brock was the newest member of the crew. He was a young man and Mila knew he had a mate and baby son since she’d seen a holo-pic of them once. His skill as ship’s pilot had served them well this past year, when Lorg had arbitrarily removed the former pilot and put Brock in his place. Brock was aware of every weakness and strength of their vessel, and how to capitalize on them. Mila felt his skills were unmatched in the galaxy and knew she was lucky to have him.

And Nil, a youngster of only thirteen years, had the heart of a lizon, the fierce little felines that roamed Olan II’s desert regions. His courage and fast thinking had saved Mila’s life, a debt she felt she would never be able to repay. At the end of Lorg’s mastery over them, when he had lost his slave empire on Olan II, he had decided to kill Mila, his most successful pirate, rather than allow her to remain free. Had Nil not interfered, pushing her to the side and throwing up his hand to catch the stroke of the laser whip aimed at Mila, she would not be here today. His act had cost him three fingers on his right hand, but he had never seemed to begrudge that loss; nor did he let the disfigurement curtail his buoyant personality. To this day he still worshipped Mila, though she had no idea why the youngster had taken to her so.

Mila was the only one who had no history before slavery. Kidnapped as a babe, she had no knowledge of her native world or her parents, and had no claim to any name but that given her by Lorg and she refused to use his surname now that she was free. His original intention had been to raise her as a daughter, but Mila’s strength of character had halted those plans. Lorg would not tolerate anyone gainsaying him, least of all an inferior woman who had not the sense to be afraid of him. Instead, he had forced her into piracy on one of his many space vessels, preying on the unsuspecting cargo transports which blundered into his traps.

How Mila had hated those years of struggling to resist the disc implanted in her head which forced obedience to a master drunk on power. Everything had changed, though, when Olan II had been accepted as a Union member. The long-negotiated treaty with the Union had included the stipulation that the government abolish slavery and the slave trade, and Mila and her crew, who just happened to be within its airspace, and far enough away from Lorg for him to immediately interfere, had been freed from his tyranny. That Mila hadn’t bothered to return this ship, which they now used for trade runs to other worlds, to Lorg was a minor infraction the new government was willing to overlook; especially since Lorg was no longer a citizen of the planet.

Lorg, however, had not been so generous, or understanding. After he relocated his empire to Corpus Major, a planet outside of Union influence where slavery was still practiced, he began to pursue Mila with a vengeance born of his frustrated attempts to possess her wholly, or kill her.

Of course, there were other crew members aboard, mostly Olanian natives who served as laborers, loading and unloading cargoes. They had been aboard the ship when Mila had neglected to return it to Lorg and had welcomed the continued employment; something still pretty scarce on Olan II. There were also a few members that had the skills necessary to work on the engine under Fael’s guidance or learn piloting, as was the woman who was currently assisting Brock at the helm.

Mila focused on the asteroid field they had entered. Brock still kept up the maximum speed, nimbly dodging debris and asteroids alike.

He’s slowing Cap’n, Nil reported, a faint sense of hope threading his voice.

Incoming! yelled V’yal, staring in horror at his control panel. He’s fired his laser cannon!

Evasive maneuvers! ordered Mila, her heart in her throat.

The shot was a near miss, but the intense explosion as it hit and disintegrated a nearby asteroid, bounced the ship off another, smaller, asteroid. Warning tones began chiming around the bridge and smoke poured from the rear of the craft.

We’ve lossst shhhieldsss! hissed Fael, relapsing into her cat nature in her agitation. Engine’sss overhhheating! I can’t shhhut it down! It’sss going to blow, Captain!

Eject it!

Malffffunction in the auto-sssafetiesss! I’ll hhhave to do it manually!

Fael left her seat and raced towards the rear compartment, trying to reach the lever that would forcefully expel the engine before the explosion ripped the ship apart. Mila loosed herself from the safety harness and stumbled toward Fael, fighting the ship’s lurching to keep her balance. The vessel bucked suddenly and Mila felt herself pitching forward. Fael reached out with her tail, wrapping it around Mila to hold her upright. Together they pulled on the lever, straining to push it on a downward curve before it was too late.

He’s firing again!

Helm won’t respond, Captain! I’ve lost maneuvering capabilities!

***

I don’t know who he is, sir, but he’s definitely in trouble.

Newly-appointed Arelian ambassador, Bendel Sologne stood at the much shorter captain’s shoulder watching the scene on the main view screen unfold. At thirty four, he was one of the younger members of the Union High Council. Blessed with the body of a warrior which he had kept honed with physical exercise, and the blonde-haired good looks of his father, the Arelian ambassador cut a striking figure. He wore the clothing of his home world, a heavy tan fabric fashioned into a form-fitting, short sleeved, one piece jumpsuit, and a short red and gold cape signifying his allegiance to House Sologne. Soft shar-skin boots that just topped his ankles and a gold medallion upon a thick red and gold cord hung halfway down his chest, proclaiming him as one of the ruling family. Intelligent green eyes watched the proceedings intently.

Well, we can’t leave him foundering like that, Bendel observed. Better see if there are survivors and whether they need assistance.

Of course, Ambassador! Captain Nathan Tarn turned to his helmsman. Bring us alongside.

The Captain, sporting dark red hair, mustache, and trimmed beard, had a light complexion confirming he was seldom planet side or even off his ship. Bendel knew he was generally a jolly fellow, but when aboard the bridge he tended to be all business.

I’m still not able to raise anyone, Captain, reported the communications officer. I’ve tried all frequencies, sir. I think their systems must be down. I do read several life signs aboard, though.

I can’t locate any other ships around this sector, Captain, remarked the ship’s navigator. But there is an ion trail leading out of Union space. It looks as if whoever else was involved beat a hasty retreat when we came within sensor range.

The navigator studied her console for a few minutes longer, keying in several commands before raising her head again.

It’s hard to see the markings through the damage, Captain, but it has the shape of one of Olan II’s old pirate ships, she continued.

I’d say the pirates lost this time, observed Captain Tarn.

Don’t be too hasty in your judgment, Captain, Bendel replied. Olan II took all pirates out of commission when they joined the Union.

This one could have been a renegade, sir.

Then I suggest we use caution, Captain.

Silently watching the crew’s actions as they navigated the large transport within range of the smaller craft, Bendel reflected on what had brought him to this edge of Union space. Four months earlier when Union Leader Arnat had approached him following his younger brother, Zorall’s life-mating celebration feast on B’dar, he had been flattered, and then intrigued.

Bendel had been instrumental in the exposure of a conspiracy to have B’dar expelled from the Union. That he had done so only to assure Zorall and his new life-mate, Shi’an L’nar, would be able to retain leadership of that world was immaterial to the leader of the Union. The Union government had been trying to break up the cabal that was silently working to destroy the very fabric of the Union of Planets. Only recently, an earlier plan to keep Olan II from joining the powerful Union had been defeated. Leader Arnat wanted the conspirators stopped and he felt Bendel would be ideal for the job. Not one to waste any time, the leader had offered him a newly-vacated ambassadorship with instructions to use any measures necessary to rid the Union of this threat. A carte blanche rarely issued by the ordinarily conservative leader, it showed just how serious Arnat was taking the threat.

The Sologne patriarch, Borann, had not been so enthusiastic. He had not wanted his eldest son and the heir to Arel’s ruling family sent off to the far reaches of space no matter what the reason. He had, in fact, been quite emphatic about Bendel returning home to