Fate Has A Different Idea - Second Edition: Paladin Shadows, #3

By Aidan Red

Captured, poisoned and wished dead by the slavers and her own great aunt, Fate confronted Shara once again. But this time, it would take all of the courage and strength she had to face the challenge set squarely in her path.

 

Captured and poisoned for her repeated defiance, threatened with torture and a painful death, Shara was afraid and alone; there was no way that anyone could know where she was or could come to help her this time. She knew her time was limited, but she would not let herself quietly sit by and wait. She knew she had to try to escape, she had to tell someone what she had found out, what she knew. But in slipping her fetters, she could only manage to reach the darkness of the forest before the drugs overwhelmed her.

She awoke, bewildered and confined, unable to decern how she was still alive or where she was being held. Then her captor, or was he her samaritan, entered and what happened next is the determined, gritty side of the stuff that grand, epic tales of daring do and legends are made of.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red's Ink and Quill
• Release date: Oct 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781946039552

Book preview

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FATE HAS A DIFFERENT IDEA

Terran Assignment Part 3

Second Edition

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PALADIN SHADOWS SERIES, BOOK 3

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A Novel by Aidan Red

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Copyright

Paladin Shadows Series Book 3:

Terran Assignment, Fate has a different idea...

Second Edition

Copyright © 2021 by Aidan Red

All Rights Reserved

Second Edition Release Date 10/04/21

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This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without permission from the publisher.

This novel is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, dialogue, locations, events and plots are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Published by Red’s Ink and Quill, Wichita, KS

For information on other works by Aidan Red, Science Fiction and Fiction, published or forthcoming, visit RedsInkandQuill.com or AidanRedBooks.com

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Softcover ISBN: 978-1-946039-56-9

eBook ISBN: 978-1-946039-55-2

✦

My many thanks to my

Second Edition editors.

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Content Editing by Trenda London,

http://ItsYourStoryContentEditing.com

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Copy Editing by Amy Jackson,

Copy Editing and Proof Reading, http://AmyJacksonEditing.com

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Cover by

Aidan Red

FATE HAS A DIFFERENT idea...

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Captured and poisoned for her repeated defiance, threatened with torture and a painful death, Shara was afraid and alone; there was no way that anyone could know where she was or could come to help her this time. She knew her time was limited, but she would not let herself quietly sit by and wait. She knew she had to try to escape, she had to tell someone what she had found out, what she knew. But somehow she had to slip her fetters, and get away before the poison succeeded in stopping her.

What happened next is the determined, gritty side of the stuff that grand, epic tales of daring and legends are made of.

Chapters

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Prologue

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Glossary

Preview

Books by Aidan Red

About the Author

Prologue

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Shara stumbled over a step and hands roughly jerked her upright. With a quick turn, the hands had clutched her chest and planted her firmly on a tall stool. With a sharp jerk, someone snatched the hood from her head and the intense light burned her eyes. She squinted, trying to see beyond the brilliant cone of light encircling her, angrily remembering the distasteful trip from the mill to...to...wherever they were.

Someone grabbed a tight fistful of her hair and held her steady as others pulled her ankles up on either side of the stool and lashed them in place. She screamed defiantly when they jerked her wrists down and secured them to the stool behind her.

As she strained to see through the brilliant light, probing the featureless darkness, a door opened from a dim room to one side. Soft voices drifted through and she heard her name spoken as silhouettes danced in the door’s pale rectangle. She strained to hear more, but the words were cut off when the dim rectangle narrowed and disappeared.

Who sent you to spy at the old mill? a voice boomed out of the darkness beyond the cone of light.

I’m the second horseman of the apocalypse! Shara shouted, anger and contempt dripping from her words. I ride the red horse and will wage war against you vile and filthy scum. I will be accompanied by the pale horse of death, and hell will follow him. She surprised herself! Dear God? What am I doing? I shouldn’t be antagonizing these bastards. But her anger pushed her. Who the hell are you? Why have you brought me here? What have you done with the others? Their long pause encouraged her.

You will answer, the voice boomed again, pitched slightly with frustration. Why were you at the mill? Who sent you?

She did not have to admit she was spying on them; they knew, and she tightened her lips and waited silently, the children’s phrase about what curiosity did crossing her mind.

Who sent you? the voice growled.

No one! I was hiking and saw the commotion. Battling her contempt, she tried a different tack. Why should someone send me?

Do not try to deceive us again, the man warned. The meeting today we believe you knew about, and we know of the curious inquiries you have been making for weeks. Where is your friend?

Shara’s thoughts refused to consider the question, focusing instead on the man’s vaguely familiar accent, his odd phrasing and... Suddenly she realized he spoke like her mother: either he was unable or had been taught to speak without contracted words. But then, so did her aunts and uncles...and cousins... She cursed under her breath. Unnoticed and unimportant all these years, the speech pattern was consistent throughout the Reeds family! It was so common that no one paid it any attention—just another family trait. Her mother’s statements rushed back to her. She had called the Reeds the Family. She said they controlled...

Her mind focused on the man’s voice again. It was familiar. Not just the accent, but the voice. Where had she heard it? It was thick, almost to the point of slurring his words, almost foreign, almost... She could not quite put her finger on it; the memory was hazy, elusive, dreamlike... A dream! Her dreams! She cursed again. The accents and tonal qualities were the same she remembered in her dreams, her nightmares, her—

Where is he? the man’s irritated, loud voice demanded.

He? She stared at the blankness beyond the cone of light, trying to remember the question.

Where is the criminal you have been helping? The man’s heated tone emphasized each word. Where has he gone?

I don’t know, she slowly replied. He left. Just gone. I haven’t seen him for days.

When? Something banged. A hand maybe? When has he just gone?

His words were almost comical, but the anger she felt in the room held her in check. Last week. No, Monday or maybe Tuesday. He took my car.

Beyond the light, someone stroked a computer keyboard and she waited for the next question, but silence persisted. She wondered what they were waiting for. Could they somehow confirm her answers? Had they been the ones following her? Keeping tabs on what she did, where she went?

Her legs ached and her wrists throbbed. She half wished they would get on with whatever they were going to do, but as quickly, she knew she did not want them to. She pulled against the bindings, hoping to ease the pain, but every movement brought more.

The keyboard rattled and feet shuffled—restless, she thought. Someone told someone to try something again and the keys clattered a third time and a new voice startled her.

What is it? Do you have any idea what time it is? the old woman’s voice answered.

Am sorry, Madam Judge Bernice. The man spoke in a taut monotone as he addressed the communication link. Shara could not believe her ears. We have a matter that concerns you immediately—

What is so important? What have you undone so bad that Kdeen cannot fix?

It is not that, Madam Judge, the man defended. It is the woman. She was not killed. We have her—

What? the judge shrieked. She is there? You have her there? Now? She is not dead? She—

Yes! the man shouted, then continued in a calmer tone. She was caught spying on the meeting. We restrained her and called Key-One for identity confirmation. He said this is the one you have been looking for and I must call to determine what course to follow.

Yes, I have been looking for her. The raw anger in Bernice’s voice shocked Shara. Put her on the screen.

Someone keyed the board again.

Can she see me? Judge Bernice asked.

Now, the man announced, swiveling the monitor toward Shara as the brilliant light dimmed. The perimeter of the room seemed to brighten and she could see the handful of technicians clustered around a console.

So, Judge Bernice began, staring at her from the crystal clear screen, you and your devoted mother—she made the word sound ugly—have been having much fun with me, I see. For months and many longer I have asked for you to come through the Rites, and each time you have rejected the request. Just like your sisters, except they finally understood. Unfortunate for you, Katherine succeeded more than she ever guessed and for you it is now too late! Your mother should have stopped Katherine sooner.

But she—

Silence! I have been put to great task by your resistance and the defiance of your mother, and I have been forced into many compromises. Her tone dripped with vehemence. My integrity has been questioned once too often because of inept agents and incorrect information, but now I will see that the information is correct. You were reported dead and so shall you wish to be! I will—

You scum! Shara shouted. How dare you? What gives you the right—?

Enough! I take the right! Commander.

The man stiffened beside the monitor.

She has forfeited her place of honor in the Family and shall be presented in chains. The lowliest of the low. The scullery maids will have more rank and position than she.

Shara shouted in disgust, but someone grabbed a handful of hair with a twist, stopping her outburst mid-sentence.

I said enough! Bernice shouted when she continued to growl; the trooper tightened his grip. I have had to explain your death to too many in high. You are now of no value! Commander?

Yes, Madam Judge. I am here. He turned and stared at the visual sensor in the monitor.

Make the necessary arrangements! Subdue her until first light. Then is when I will watch this rebellious girl pay for her refusals in the Chambers, and if they do not want her after I am through, then you may dispose of her as you see fit.

Shara squirmed against her bonds, against the twisting grip of the trooper. Her own great-aunt! Her own family, coolly discussing her torture and demise! And her mother, trying for years to arrange the Rites. Did she know? Yes. Suddenly, she was certain her mother did. Her own mother!

When the emissary has rejected her—Bernice’s tone was cold—and you are through, then you will bring me her head! Bernice smiled hugely. Yes, I shall mount it beside that of her wretched, deceitful mother.

Shara twisted and spat at the monitor. I’ll see you are sent straight to hell!

Bernice laughed, a wicked, knowing laugh. You, dear girl, will not be around to see anyone anywhere! Commander? Are you prepared?

Yes, Madam Judge.

The commander stepped forward and stopped before Shara. She shuddered, unable to retreat, his expression cold and intolerant as he grabbed her shoulder with one hand and the iron-like fingers of his other hand dug into her thigh.

She twisted and tried to jerk her shoulder away, but his fingers tightened and piercing pain swept down her side. His cold eyes swept her length as he pushed her backwards.

Her body tensed, the fall was imminent, but he held her, stretched between the stool and his steel grip.

It is too bad, Madam Judge, he commented absently. She could have been very valuable.

Abruptly, he sat her up.

Blade, he demanded as he outstretched his hand to a man near the console.

Shara inhaled sharply. Words would not form in her mouth as she watched the man fumble in his long smock, finally producing a short knife with a finger-length blade. The commander took it, and with a quick, fluid motion, he slid the knife up the sleeve of her sweater, splitting the fabric from the wristband to her shoulder. Without turning, he extended his hand again, returning the knife.

Needle, he requested in the same monotone voice, and she saw the smocked man hurry to a cabinet near the rectangular door she had seen earlier. He quickly returned with a pistol-like device and handed it gently to the commander.

Shara screamed, trying to twist away. A trooper grabbed her shoulders.

Madam Judge, you are witness. Please mark the time.

He pushed the device’s soft base against her arm and squeezed the release. Shara jerked at the stab of the pneumatic needle, her arm throbbed, and a burning spread quickly from the puncture.

That will do for now, the commander announced as he handed the gun to the smocked attendant. Take her to room six. Madam Judge, he continued, turning to face the monitor, she will be ready in the Chambers at first light.

Good, good, very good. Judge Bernice wrung her hands in sadistic glee, her voice and image fading as the connection was broken.

Twenty-Five

Saturday, October 15

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Rising to answer the unexpected knock, Rose noted the time by the clock above the refrigerator. Doug would not be home for another hour.

Jill! My lord, come in here, girl. The last thing she expected was Jill huddled on the porch, shaking and crouched against the windy cold. Where on earth’s your coat? she continued, pulling Jill inside.

I...forgot it. Her body shuddered, triggered by the cold and fed by her deepening depression.

Rose closed the door and studied her as she led the way into the kitchen. Let me fix you something. You look frozen. Where have you been, anyway? You’re a terrible mess. She glanced at the dirty smudges on Jill’s clothes and face.

Oh, s...shit. I’m sorry. Jill’s teeth chattered as she looked down at her soiled jeans. I’ll hear about this before it’s over. Maybe I shouldn’t have barged in on you. She turned back to the door. Mother will be furious when she hears about how I look.

Wait a minute. Rose caught her arm and turned her around. What’s the matter? You can come whenever you want to. A little dirt has nothing to do with your welcome.

Ignoring Jill’s confused expression, she led her to a stool by the kitchen counter and sat beside her. She noticed Jill’s eyes were filled with tears.

Jill, what is it? What’s happened?

Nothing, Jill answered, then said, Maybe everything. She hesitated, then she looked at Rose. Shar said that I had to come and get Uncle Jim and you if anything went wrong.

What, Jill? What went wrong? Where is Shar?

I don’t know. She paused. I just don’t know. I don’t think she got away.

Rose hugged her tightly. Got away? From where? What do you mean? Try to explain.

Shar said to talk to my Uncle Jim, Jill continued. Then to get you and Nick. It’s getting out of control. I don’t know what’s going to happen next.

Jill, where’s Shar? When did you see her last?

When we were running away. They were chasing us.

Who, Jill?

Did Shar tell you about the missing persons and the kidnappings?

Yes, some.

Then you know that Uncle Brian was kidnapped before he got to Australia.

Rose handed her a towel and she wiped her eyes.

Jill continued when she nodded. Then we found out about Senator Jack Ashley, Shar’s Aunt Nancy’s stepson. He’s missing too.

Rose listened quietly, offering comforting comments as needed. Jill explained the kidnapper’s demands and the meeting and how Shara and she met with her Uncle Jim, learning that he also knew Greg. Recounting the details of that discussion and the events that followed it, Jill retold the day’s events.

Reliving their sneaking around the old mill, their discoveries and their subsequent chase, Jill shook again.

When Jill stopped, she realized Rose had refilled her coffee cup and was keying the phone.

Jim just got home and he’s coming over. I told him you’re alone and needed to see him.

Thanks.

I spiked the coffee. I know I need some stimulation. You probably do too.

Jill held the cup tightly, letting it warm her shivering hands. I think I do.

That was the last of that bottle, Rose said with a wicked smile. You stay put and I’ll jump down to the cellar and get a fresh one. Doug will need a drink when he gets in. I’ll be right back.

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STARING INTO THE DARK pool of coffee, Jill’s thoughts wandered, remembering Shara and the paradox they had always been. Then there were others, like Rose, whom she felt she had known by name only.

Except for Shara, everyone expected her to lead a daily life steeped in the family posture, everything neat in appearance, always poised and in order without anything shaking the tree. And Rose’s casual acceptance and attitude were an unexpected reminder of Shara and their completely opposite lifestyles.

She had been allowed to have friends and even a few boyfriends along the way, but her mother had always told her she would make a good ambassador’s wife and set high goals with proper rewards and appointments. And as planned, the family image and drives kept most people distant. The only rebellion she had ever exhibited was to solicit the advances of any male that actually showed an interest, but she admitted that had backfired often—Brad as an example.

Her problems making friends in high school she could blame on the façade and status of the family name. It had taken many years to find a hole in the fence built by that image, and she worked hard to keep the family financial status in the background and just be accepted, but the Thomas’s dress code was unalterable. Everyone had to pass inspection, even acquaintances.

Meeting Shara had made things bearable. Always the quiet rebel, accepting her without so much as a single question, Shara was the excelling, competitive tomboy just down the street that everyone liked but never took seriously; everyone’s friend but no one’s partner or girlfriend.

Shara’s very nature and open, spontaneous character that cemented their friendship so many years ago still held today. Even now, with the bizarre happenings, her rejection of Greg and even Shara’s determined convictions, it was Shara that knew where the truth lay. Suddenly, she felt conflicted with severe prejudices and a completely irrational set of values. The truth hurt, but once again, after everything floated to the surface, Shara had simply accepted her immature piousness and continued, pulling her along with a rope of understanding and compassion.

It was hard to know that Shara’s background was of similar or greater wealth. Shara’s free, unregimented lifestyle made her devoid of the pretenses that usually infect uncommon relationships. It was her common sense that Jill tried to grasp and mimic, and in today’s adventure she had deviated further from the guarded family rules than she ever had.

The knock at the door broke her reverie and she looked up, surprised. I’ll get it, she yelled to Rose. It’s probably Jim.

She chided herself for daydreaming as she opened the door with the third knock.

Tony?

Jill! Thank goodness! he said in a rush. We were hoping to find you here. We’ve tried everywhere.

Suspicion held her, but she heard the urgency and despair in his voice.

Why? What’s happened?

Come on, Jill. He started back down the steps. Nick’s been in a wreck! He sent us to find you.

What? A wreck? Where?

Down south. We tried to call but couldn’t find you, so we started going to everyone’s houses. Hurry, Jill. His voice pitched, sounding urgent.

All right, all right. Give me a minute, she acquiesced, her mind conjuring horrible images of Nick in his twisted and battered truck.

Tony started off the porch, but stopped when she hurried back to the kitchen counter and scribbled a note. Grabbing her purse, she ran back to the door.

Who is it? Rose hollered from the cellar stairs.

I’ve got to go, Rose! Nick’s been hurt! I’ll call as soon as I can.

She closed the door and slipped into the waiting car before Rose could argue.

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CHERAL OPENED THE SANDWICH carton and Paal lifted the cloth-wrapped sphere.

I found this late today, she explained.

Paal took the metallic softball-sized prize and studied it. I’m not sure I know what this is. He turned the ball to look more closely at the small buttons arrayed around its surface.

If Stran’s right, this is a cloaking transmitter, she said, and Paal whistled softly in response. Connected to a suitable power source, nuclear or thermal, it can hide objects the size of many city blocks. Her expression clouded. He thinks the valley is masked by a carpet of transmitters. I was hoping to meet him here and confirm this, but STSX only says he is following someone.

Oh? Who?

He won’t say. When I talked to Stran this morning, he was monitoring the communication lines, hoping to hear something about a kidnappers’ meeting. Damn! She stomped the ground and spun away. I feel so useless when STSX won’t fill me in! I—

Won’t? I don’t understand—

Talking to me takes too much energy and has a high risk of detection. So I’m always the last to know, ever since Pitcarthy. Paal still looked puzzled and she sighed. "I can’t hear anymore. Not like the rest of you. Not like Stran. I was beginning to, but something happened when I got shot and now STSX has to transmit to me, broadcast, and even with very tight or scrambled signals, they can be intercepted, picked up by simple electronics." She sighed again.

Where is this, ah...STSX? Why don’t we go and find out what he knows?

That would be tricky, she laughed. He’s hidden about twenty miles down the valley. Gary Woods fashioned a hangar out of an old, rundown commercial building that looks like it’s half buried under a landslide, but STSX doesn’t know you and I doubt he would let me bring a visitor.

Gary, huh? Paul asked as he rewrapped the transmitter in the cloth and returned it to the sandwich carton. Sounds like where the old Starlight Dance Hall and Skating Rink used to be. He owned a piece of that once. Maybe we should just drop over and see what he knows. You up to taking a ride with an old relative?

Ought to be interesting. Cheral smiled.

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THE MULTI-DRIVE FLATBED truck’s glowing infrared image filled the view through the night-light binoculars. Stran planned his next move as he watched the activity at the camouflaged entrance. He had to leave the remotes outside the energy dome that covered most of the valley, and that made tracking the truck’s decaying energy trail a slower proposition. But the remote’s energy within the dome would