Fated Blades
- Автор: Эндрюс Илона
- Серия: Kinsmen #3
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: Montlake
- ISBN: 9781662500435
- Жанр: Любовно-фантастические романы
Электронная книга - «Fated Blades». Краткое содержание книги:
At first glance, the planet Rada seems like a lush paradise. But the ruling families, all boasting genetically enhanced abilities, are in constant competition for power―and none more so than the Adlers and the Baenas. For generations, the powerful families have pushed and pulled each other in a dance for dominance.
Until a catastrophic betrayal from within changes everything.
Now, deadly, disciplined, and solitary leaders Ramona Adler and Matias Baena must put aside their enmity and work together in secret to prevent sinister forces from exploiting universe-altering technology. Expecting to suffer through their uneasy alliance, Ramona and Matias instead discover that they understand each other as no one in their families can―and that their combined skills may eclipse the risks of their forbidden alliance.
As the two warriors risk their lives to save their families, they must decide whether to resist or embrace the passion simmering between them. For now, the dance between their families continues―but just one misstep could spell the end of them both. (less)
“About eighty standard years ago, a military uprising overthrew the existing monarchy and established Star Fall Republic. It’s a republic in name only. Only active-duty military or veterans are true citizens. Everyone else is part of a lesser support class with limited rights and even more limited protections. They are ruled by a military high council, and the council’s power is absolute. It’s as if a totalitarian regime and a military meritocracy had a baby and dressed it in republican clothes.”
“Charming,” she said. “Is this their elite unit?”
“In a manner of speaking. The Vandals aren’t the republic’s best fighters. They’re handpicked sociopaths, unburdened by morals and trained to obey their commanding officers without any hesitation. To be considered for this unit, one has to have a certain body count.”
“So they are killers.”
Matias leaned back, trying to push the memories aside. “They are eradicator troops. They are not deployed; they are unleashed. When you need to erase something from existence—a troublesome asteroid factory, a planetary settlement, a military unit whose commander steps out of line—the Vandals are the answer. They have no problem killing their own.”
He paused, deciding how much to tell her. Just the highlights. Yes, the highlights would do.
“There was a mining settlement on one of the moons in a planetary system on the edge of the SFR’s territory. The miners had settled there a few decades before the SFR claimed the system. The SFR gave them an ultimatum: convert or move. The miners refused to do either. The Vandals were ordered to claim the settlement by any means necessary. It was a dome colony, no defenses to speak of except the settlement police. The Vandals could have simply blown their generators with a few missiles, and the miners would’ve had to evacuate.”
“They didn’t,” Ramona said.
“No. It was judged as a good opportunity for a field exercise. Besides, the generators were in excellent condition and would have been expensive to repair or replace.”
Ramona’s gaze hardened.
“Nine thousand people,” he said. “Of those, fifteen hundred were children. Slaughtered to a soul. They had a point system. So many points for an adult, a few less for the elderly and children under twelve. Babies counted for a single point. The Vandals kept a tally by drawing numbers on their armor in blood. They had their body cameras, but blood looks impressive, and it was all for fun anyway. The SFR called it the Reclamation and Liberation of Mining Facilities on Opus VII. Their neighbors called it the Opus Massacre.”
She stared at him, horrified. The shock melted into suspicion. “Why do you know so much about this?”
Because it irreversibly altered the trajectory of his life. He owed the Vandals a blood debt he could never repay. “When I left the planet thirteen years ago, I joined a mercenary outfit. They avoided the SFR and all its troops like the plague. We were told about the Vandals’ adventures as a warning.”
Her eyes narrowed. She clearly expected more, but he wasn’t ready to reopen that wound. The less she knew about him, the better. He wasn’t in the habit of giving his enemies ammunition.
“You’re saying that this is a military operation,” she said. “The SFR wants seco tech, and they sent the Vandals to get it.”
Yes and no. “When a Vandal officer warns you that he is about to be impolite, he means comply or die. If you fail to obey his order, he will murder you, your family, your pets, your neighbors, until there is nothing left but a lake of blood. Haider is a marked man. The Davenports are living on borrowed time. Before the Vandals leave the planet, they will make that promise a reality.”
A change came over Ramona. The relaxed provincial woman with warm eyes and lazy movements evaporated, like a kan-mask melting into thin air at the end of a festival. The woman across from him now was focused, her eyes calculating, the line of her mouth hard.
Hello, Ramona. This is more like it.
“Suppose you’re right,” she said. “Does the SFR have an intelligence branch? Or a diplomatic corps?”
“Yes,” he said. “They have a diplomatic corps, intelligence bureau, public outreach bureau, and a few other agencies that deal with the outside world. They’re paranoid, and they collect every scrap of information about their neighbors, because they view everyone as a potential threat.”
Ramona drummed her fingernails on the table. “Then why would they send homicidal maniacs to negotiate the purchase of seco shield tech?”
Good question.
“That type of mission requires flexibility and a talent for diplomacy,” Ramona continued. “Two things an eradicator unit clearly wouldn’t be known for.”
“And yet here they are.” Without their trademark skull braids.
A gentle chime sounded through the room. Ramona rose, crossed the floor to the opposite wall, and retrieved a tray of food from a niche. She brought it to the table and set it in front of him. A dish of spicy soup, smoked fish, four different types of local cheese, small fried pastries, skewers of meat grilled over an open fire, still sizzling, crusty golden bread, and honeyed Rada berries.
Suddenly, he was ravenous.
Ramona ladled the soup into two bowls and passed one to him. He drank it. Spiced just right. He took a second swallow. Even better.
“Good,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s good. Everything here is good. They’re serving our family recipes.”
“In that case, I should have said passable.”
“Clearly, you don’t value your life.”
They ate in silence. Ten minutes later, he was no longer starving, and his brain restarted, crunched through the data, and spat out an answer to the Vandal mystery. He really didn’t like it.
“Is the existence of the Vandals secret?” Ramona asked.
“No. Their reputation is an asset.”
“How closely are they monitored? As a unit?”
“Not very. They answer directly to the high council and are typically stationed on whatever border the SFR finds most troublesome at the moment. They do not enter deeper into the republic’s territory unless ordered.”
“Two birds with one stone,” she murmured. “Secure the border and keep them away from civilian centers and other military installations.”
She was walking the same logical path he took. She didn’t have all his background, but she would arrive at the same conclusion whether he helped her or not. There was no reason to hold things back. They had to work together. And yet he hesitated. It was probably force of habit. For some reason, he was irritated, and that irritation made him combative.
“If three men in uniform with skull braids showed up in the Davenports’ office bringing the same proposal, their reception would’ve been exactly the same,” Ramona said. “There is no reason for Varden and the others to hide their identity from the kinsmen or to pretend to be Rada citizens.”
“They are not hiding from us.”
She fixed him with her stare. He imagined a bloodred seco blade unfurling from her arm.
“Why do I get a feeling that you’ve already figured it out and are now feeding me bread crumbs of data to see how fast I get there?”
“Because I am.” He probably shouldn’t have said that.
She leaned forward. “Kinsman Baena, you try my patience.”
Haider called her she-wolf. Apt.
“Are we working together or not?”
“We are,” he told her. “We are temporary allies.”
“Then you must share information. I brought you to a safe room. You’ve seen my people. I fed you. I demonstrated trust.”
“I don’t have a problem with you. I have a problem with your last name.”