Deadly Games: A Blueheart Science Fiction Adventure Book 4: A Blueheart Science Fiction Adventure, #4

By Charley Marsh

When Largo's old comrade requests Largo's help tracking down a killer, Amelia urges him to postpone their trip and lend a hand. The victim worked for the comrade's mother, a brilliant biologist about to unveil a new food source that promises to eradicate poverty and starvation galaxy-wide.

 

The research draws the attention of a radical group determined to prevent its use, but much to Amelia's dismay, also that of her creators–the Tribunal.

 

Their investigation proves to be anything but straight forward and Amelia and Largo find themselves drawn into a deadly web of murder and betrayal right from the start.

 

Deadly Games, the fourth book in the Amelia Blueheart Sci-Fi series delivers another entertaining tale of deception and adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charley Marsh
• Release date: May 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223051404

Charley Marsh

In her younger days Charley Marsh’s curiosity drove her to climb mountains, canoe rivers, and explore caves and wilderness areas from Maine to California. She's been shot at, caught in a desert flash flood, and almost drowned off the Maine coast. Once she tobogganed down a 5,000+ foot mountain.  Life is always an adventure if you have the right attitude. Charley never set out to be a storyteller, but looking back on the elaborate lies she made up as a troubled teen she can see that she always had the makings. Now, in the immortal words of Lawrence Block, she happily “makes up lies for fun and profit.” If you would like information regarding Charley’s new releases or simply want to contact Charley visit: https://charleymarshbooks.com/

Book preview

1

The first thing Amelia noticed about Largo’s ship, Nobody’s Business, was its size–the ship looked huge for a crew of one. It wasn’t new–the dark metal body was pitted and dented from the debris one encounters in space, but it was obviously well cared for and the inside of the ship was pristine.

She liked that he took care of his ship. It spoke well of him.

Her quarters on the Nobody held a roomy, comfortable bunk and a wash-dry tube that could hold two people easy. The golden brown, real wood flooring made a fine backdrop for the first possession she’d ever purchased: a treasured green and gold, hand-knotted rug she’d found in the Theopoline Agora and bought for her room at Shin’s boarding house in that city.

Amelia smiled at the thought of her tiny ex-landlady. Shin was probably kneeling in her flower garden at that moment, face streaked with dirt, viciously attacking the weeds that dared to compete with her prized flowers.

She missed Theopoline. Missed the friends she’d made there. She could have stayed and most likely thrived in the bustling city, but Largo had made her an offer she felt she had to take. Needed to take. She didn’t have the words for it yet, but there was something between her and the enigmatic warrior that demanded to be explored.

A small painting of the Zabalovs’ precious mountains graced the wall next to her bunk. Hung in a prominent spot so she wouldn’t forget the people who had helped her escape her previous life. As if she ever would forget them. If not for the Zabalov people, she would no longer exist.

Other than two fancy dresses she’d picked up while in Theopoline, the rug, a painting, a carved comb, four skinsuits, a heavy, woven cape, a pair of boots, and a healthy credit account were the extent of her worldly possessions. It felt like all the riches in the galaxy.

It was more than a clone was allowed to own. It was far more than she had ever expected to own. Clones were not allowed to possess anything except the two uniforms they were issued at their birthing; uniforms she had destroyed during her daring escape. She wanted nothing that reminded her of her life as a Tribunal slave.

Nobody’s Business possessed only three personal quarters: Largo’s spacious rooms, and two small guest quarters. The rest of the ship was taken up with specialized equipment storage, the command bridge and life support systems, and a cargo hold–currently empty.

Despite Largo’s invitation to share his quarters, Amelia had moved into one of the guest quarters. Largo set up a work space in her room with access to the Galaxy Open Database, or GOD, as it was commonly referred to.

She used the work space each day to scan the open database for any word of missing clones. Only when she found nothing did she allow herself to relax. She had traveled far from where she made her daring escape from the Tribunal, but their reach was extensive, and the danger of discovery a constant threat.

Every day she wondered if they realized she was still alive.

Capture of a runaway clone meant an automatic death sentence and reabsorption into the system that fed the new embryos. Translator-negotiator clones like Amelia were the Tribunal’s biggest wealth makers. They were also their costliest investment.

Unlike the clones grown to fill domestic service positions, translator-negotiator clones required highly specialized genetic engineering and extensive training with a variety of tutors after birthing.

Strictly regulated and constantly monitored, translators worked non-stop until they burned out. The strongest survived fifteen years at most once put to work; the more usual lifespan was closer to ten years. Amelia had been several years into her service when she escaped, but the Tribunal had gotten nowhere near her expected years of service from her, a financial blow they wouldn’t take well.

Amelia. Largo’s face appeared on her monitor. Come to the bridge, please. The monitor blanked.

Fear reared its ugly head. Something was wrong. What if Largo had received word from the Tribunal? They could confiscate his ship and sentence him to a life in confinement if he was found with her. She should never have accepted his invitation to join him.

She shut down the database with shaking hands and headed to the bridge.

She didn’t have far to walk, considering the size of Nobody. The living quarters, bridge, and mess were grouped in the same section of the ship–which made a lot of sense since those were the areas Largo–and now Amelia–spent most of their time.

She hurried down the wide, dimly lit corridor, her boots barely making any sound on the springy deck, and slapped the palm reader outside the bridge. The door slid open soundlessly and closed behind her as soon as she entered.

Shaped like a half-circle with the straight back wall adjacent to the corridor, the bridge looked deceptively bare, but Amelia knew that Largo could call up three-dimensional holograms and hidden control panels from his command seat with the touch of a finger or a spoken command.

Largo! What’s wrong? She searched the wall screens that covered the arced wall, but saw nothing to be concerned about. Streaks of light flashed on the screens. They were still in the hyperdrive, headed to the Centurion Gate which would transport them to the outer section of the Scutum-Centaurus Arm–one of two main arms in the Milky Way galaxy made up of stars and gas and dust.

Amelia’s heart beat a little faster when the commander’s seat swung around to reveal the ship’s captain and owner. Tall, powerful, and broad-shouldered, with dark blond hair and a square-jawed face, Largo had proven himself to be a man of honor–a warrior she could trust.

His gold-flecked tawny eyes regarded her with obvious pleasure. He had made it clear that he wished to take her as his mate, but so far Amelia had resisted.

The sensations of touch, of feeling emotion, were still very new to her. Clones were desensitized to touch and forbidden to touch others. The first time a humanoid had taken her hand, she had been first shocked, then surprised by its comforting warmth.

Since then, she had learned that touch could be pleasurable: the immersing of her body in a container of warm water, the warm rays of a sun or a cool, soft breeze on her face. Bare toes sinking into a thick rug. Largo’s strong arms wrapped around her, holding her against his firm chest and strong thighs.

Despite her newly awakened senses, she found it hard to ignore the Tribunal Law that had been drilled into her. The law dictated that physical contact with clones was forbidden; the punishment if caught, death. For Largo’s sake, she had to continue to resist, something that was becoming more and more difficult.

She knew she was being irrational. If she truly meant to resist Largo, she never should have joined his ship. Her usual clear thinking turned muddy when it came to the warrior. It was most frustrating.

Tearing her gaze from his handsome face, she stared at the screens that still told her nothing. Why did you call me to the bridge?

I’ve received a message from an old friend who requests my help. The gleam in Largo’s eyes told her he had guessed where her mind had strayed and was entertained by it. Amelia felt herself flush.

It would mean altering course and delaying our arrival. I’m not sure for how long.

Amelia studied Largo’s face, but he gave nothing away as to whether or not he wanted to respond to the plea for help. They were headed to his home planet, a place where he assured her she would be safe from discovery. He had made it very clear from the start of their journey that his first commitment was to her safety.

He was a man of his word. He wouldn’t have told her of the request for help if it wasn’t important to him.

If you were alone, what would you do?

He looked at her for a long moment. I would help Rad.

Amelia nodded. She hadn’t expected anything less than the truth from Largo. She slid into the seat next to his and waited for the bio-gel to conform to her shape before she spoke.

Then we must assist your friend. How long will it take to get there?

Two more daylight cycles. He gazed steadily at her face. Are you sure? Radcliff’s home planet is an economic hub frequented by many travelers.

In other words, there was a risk that she could be recognized as a translator clone and possibly reported to her former owners.

A friend needs you. We must help if we can.

2

The exit from the gateways always left Amelia feeling woozy and nauseated, and it was no different in Nobody’s Business. The star cruiser dropped out of the gate, floated for a long minute, and then kicked into drive.

The discovery of the gates–time-space anomalies that made travel over vast distances in a short amount of time possible–had opened trade across the galaxy. No one knew how the gates came to be, although there were two favorite theories. The most popular theory was that ancient astronauts from other galaxies had created them. In contrast, ecologists believed they were natural space-time warps created by gravity waves from long extinct pulsars.

Not long after discovering them, pioneers learned that the power to a ship’s engines had to be cut upon entering a gate. Unfortunately, they found this out only after the loss of many ships and lives. No captain likes their ship to be non-responsive. For those few minutes after a ship exited the gate and was powering up its engines, it was defenseless; a sitting duck ripe for the taking by the rogue bands of pirates that were always on the lookout for ships to loot or steal.

Fortunately, the Department of Galactic Safety guarded the main exit points along the various gates. Unfortunately, there weren’t enough DOGS fighter ships to cover every exit. Pirates frequently lay in ambush at the more obscure exits where they still posed a danger to unwary travelers. Because of this, the Tribunal and most commercial ships only traveled through the guarded exits.

Why so many DOGS? Amelia slid into the seat next to Largo. She had spent most of the journey through the gate confined to her bunk. Now that they were through, she was anxious to see where they were.

The vid screens showed three heavily armed battle ships surrounding the exit–surrounding them. Dark and menacing, with the DOGS insignia flashing silver across their hulls, three ships seemed excessive. Was something unusual going on?

Ankama is a major commercial zone with a steady flow of ships exiting the gate, making it easy for the Kuri to sneak through. Largo played the power and throttle so Nobody was responsive but barely moving.

A Kuri ship disguised as a trader recently came through this gate and made off with a cargo ship filled with valuable spices.

Ah. Every society had an underbelly of citizens who defied its laws and preferred theft to honest employment, universally referred to as the pirate class.

The Kuri took piracy a step or two further. An organization of killers from a myriad of societies that had banded together, the Kuri were renowned for their fierceness and utter disregard for life.

Most victims readily laid down their arms and gave up their goods and ships in order to save their lives. Sadly, surrender wasn’t always a guarantee of survival. The Kuri deserved their reputation of compassionless cutthroats. Amelia suspected lives had been lost during the theft of the spice ship.

The most ruthless of the Kuri had splintered off from the main group and hired themselves out as professional killers who would gladly take a life in exchange for credits. They had adopted the poisonous scorpion–a creature who struck hard and fast and killed anyone who received its bite–for their mascot, branding themselves with an image of the deadly creature tattooed behind their left ear. It was said if you saw the tattoo you were already dead. The Scorpions took no prisoners.

Largo glanced at Amelia, then back at the instruments spread before him. "You can relax. The DOGS enforcers have no idea you’re on board the Nobody."

I am relaxed.

Largo snorted, but said nothing.

Among their other duties, the Department of Galactic Safety was responsible for enforcing the Clone Laws. Amelia automatically rubbed the back of her neck where the tracking device inserted at her birth had been removed. She needed to remember that she could no longer be tracked. The biggest danger lay in being recognized. All translator-negotiator clones looked identical. Even after cutting off her long black hair and dyeing what was left red, she still looked too much like her sister clones for comfort.

The comm gave a loud beep and a face filled one of the screens. Amelia gripped the armrests. They don’t know about me, she reminded herself, and forced her hands to relax.

"Nobody’s Business, I am Sargent Timms of the Department of Galactic Safety. Please state your destination, your ship registration, and the identities of all crew members and passengers."

"Of course, Sargent. I am Largo and the Nobody is my ship." He rattled off the Nobody’s registration. I have one crew member, Amelia Blueheart, who joined me from the planet Cyprius. We are on our way to Anka, guests of Radcliff Soames.

The face disappeared.

What’s he doing? Where did he go?

He’s checking my registration and our names to be sure there are no warrants out for our arrest.

Oh. This was all new to her. The Tribunal’s star cruisers frequently used the gates, but were never stopped and checked. Beads of cold sweat rolled down her spine.

Amelia. Relax. They know me.

But they don’t know me.

The face popped back on the screen. We need to see your crew member, Commander.

Certainly. He turned to Amelia. Please stand so Sargent Timms can scan you.

Amelia’s heart moved into her throat as she slowly stood. Could they see her knees quaking? She forced her face to show nothing, a trick she often used during negotiations.

After a long minute, the Sargent spoke again. Very good, Commander Largo. You’d best move along, there are others exiting the gate behind you.

Roger that.

Amelia waited until they were well away from the gate before she spoke again. Why did they scan me?

"Common procedure. You’re now on record with the DOGS as a crew member of Nobody’s Business."

How did you know my name would clear? Up until six months ago, Amelia Blueheart didn’t exist.

Two reasons. As a clone you were identified by a number and an implant–which you no longer have–so no worries there. What you now have is a verified past history, one I created when you joined my ship–for occasions such as this. And second, you possess a healthy credit account in the name of Amelia Blueheart, which makes you a citizen in good standing.

He had created a past for her. One that had stood up to a DOGS check.

Amelia relaxed for the first time since they’d changed course for Radcliff’s home. She should feel angry that he’d created a past without consulting her, but she felt too relieved to be even mildly miffed. It had never occurred to her to have a ready past made up.

I suppose you should fill me in on my past when you get the chance.

Happy to. Largo turned the cruiser and the battle ships slid off the screens.

How far to your friend’s place?

Hop and a skip. I’ve already contacted Radcliff. He’ll meet us with a shuttle once we land and has rooms ready for us at his place.

Traffic was heavy and they didn’t speak again until the Nobody was safely secured in a berth at the docking station. Similar to the docking station orbiting Cyprius, Ankama’s dock was designed like a giant spoked wheel. Smaller ships used the inner, smaller berths, while the larger cruisers used the outer berths. Ships too large to dock maintained staggered orbits around the planet. All sent smaller shuttles to the surface.

Nobody’s berth lay halfway out Kappa Arm. Largo cut the engines once the station’s robotic clamps held the ship firmly in place.

We could be a few days. You might want to bring a change of clothes and anything else you think you might need. He stopped at a narrow locker and pulled out two small, soft-sided duffles.

Use this, he said, handing her one of the bags. It has a tracking device. In case it gets stolen, he added, when he saw her frown. The Kuri pirates aren’t the only thieves around.

Amelia took the bag and threw in the few items she thought she might need, then met Largo at the ship’s shuttle bay. Largo headed for the nearest of two identical, sleek black shuttles and pressed his palm beside the shuttle’s door. A keypad appeared. He put in a code and the door slid open. Largo hesitated and closed the door.

What are you doing?

Come here. He waited until Amelia stood next to him, then taught her the code and two more: one to secure the shuttle’s door and one to arm the shuttle. Then he had her open the door. They headed inside and settled into the forward set of seats.

Amelia liked the shuttle’s sleek, no-frills design. The seats were bio-gel like in the ship’s command center, body temperature, and conformed to her shape. The control panel looked uncomplicated. There was space behind for a small cargo or passengers.

I think I’d like to learn how to pilot a shuttle.

Largo nodded. That’s a good idea. We’ll see to it as soon as we deal with Rad’s problem.

Amelia grinned, pleased that Largo was so agreeable. One thing she had learned from her time with the Zabalovs was that the Zabalov women did everything the males did, unlike many other cultures she’d dealt with. Among their many admirable skills, the women could drive, troubleshoot, and repair any of their vehicles.

Seeing how much power, knowledge, and freedom the Zabalov women had was a revelation after years spent under the all-male Tribunal’s fist, forbidden to do anything but her job as a translator. When not working, she’d been required to remain in cramped, unpleasant quarters, with nothing to do except stare out a tiny view port, or study her next assignment.

It was a heady feeling to realize that she could learn and do whatever she chose. The possibilities were infinite.