THE GUARDSMAN: Book 1: Honor of the Fallen – Chapters 33-37

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The Guardsman, Book 1: Honor of the Fallen:

Chapter 33)

The newly released shift workers were leaving the Chroynos Citadel Tower from the bottom floors and exiting through security checkpoints. They jostled each other, gossiped, and pushed past each other to the secured and monitored tram stops. The fighters from Warsong continued to keep away all other traffic.

Some workers were lucky enough to live in the lower reaches of the Citadel Tower building but that was expensive. So not every family could utilize or afford the luxury of living in the Chroynos Citadel Tower. Most workers employed in the Citadel Tower were likely to have two incomes in the family. Since there were few cases where both family members worked in the Citadel Tower, it was far more common for the couple to somehow split the travel distance to their places of employment.

Scores of corporate nobles from dynastic families maintained apartment suites in the Citadel Tower just to say that they had one, even if they never lived or even spent any time there. The law of supply and demand still applied in a wealthy star-spanning incorporated business empire. The more people wanted to be somewhere, the higher the prices of that location. Therefore, the average worker could live much better for the same money in other buildings if they tolerated the travel time.

One female was annoyed by it every time she saw the mobs of workers fighting to exit the Palace at shift change. Today was no different, other than the increased security presence.

After she calmly passed security, which detected no weapons, contraband, or stolen valuables left on her person, the short-slumped, and haggard-looking secretary with rumpled misbehaving brown hair, was passed with little difficulty. She looked like every other stressed worker leaving that evening.

She was irritated at herself that she had not remembered to populate her pockets with the item she needed before she entered the press and throng of humanity around her. As a result, she accidentally bumped a fellow traveler with her bag as she unslung it. The man grumbled a complaint and received a meek apology in reply. He moved about his business. She sidestepped through the crowd to a slow spot by a wall and column that interrupted foot traffic and dug out her comm.

She cursed herself as she found her comm in the last place she looked which was also the most convenient, the exterior pouch opposite her notepad. She had forgotten who had meticulously packed her bag, over weeks of planning. It had been packed by two old soldiers who knew and appreciated the value of a precise and utilitarian load plan.

Acting the part of just another traveler, she activated her comm and flipped through the menus. She located the comm address she wanted and left the recipient a simple text message: ‘Sorry I’m late honey, be home soon, rough day at work, love you’. She was supremely careful not to speak into the comm knowing that her voice could be captured and recognized by the electronic monitoring and signal intercepting security systems. She also studiously avoided looking up into or near any security cameras. She also took great pains that she did not talk too loud even if she was forced to, like when she bumped the man with her bag.

Her hat worked wonders but the voice and face recognition software, along with the electronic comm monitoring systems, in the Citadel Tower were the best available for any price. She avoided all three systems by not looking up or speaking.

She disappeared into the crowd as the tram arrived.

Chapter 34)

Phyllip erupted, “How in Hades’ name did you manage to lose her again!”

Bryce started, “I’m sorry Sir! I…”

The CEO roared, “Don’t you dare ‘sorry’ me! You need to shut your mouth is what you need to do! How is it that every Guardsman we commission in this place is now an incompetent blithering moron! How the hell did an untrained twenty-year-old woman evade you on the most security-intensive day in recent memory! The only reason I am not going to shoot you in the head right now is because you saved Persephone’s life not even twelve hours ago!” Phyllip turned a complete circle as he paced furiously behind his desk. His squad of Guardsmen patiently waited against the walls of his office wishing they were anywhere other than where they were at that moment. This was not just some bloated CEO who was fed peeled grapes all day, by serving girls. This man was one of their own. He was highly decorated for Valor in the field in his own right, as a Guard Commander.

He was also CEO of the Empire. A fact that all Guardsmen felt with pride swelling in their hearts early in his reign, that one of their own would elevate so high. They considered him a Guardsman first and viewed his family’s hereditary ties second.

Now he was a terror. He was a hardened commander and the years had dulled none of the razor edges of his intellect or his barbed tongue.

The room felt like the paint was boiling while Bryce Mountain-Eagle-Roost, Guardsman, Third Class, was stripped into constituent atoms in the Emperor’s own office-turned fusion furnace. “When the hell did we start issuing lobotomies with the Black and Gold!”

The Emperor spun so fast and kicked his chair so hard that its thick wooden back cracked under his boot heel. The toppling chair nearly knocked him over as he struggled to avoid an embarrassing spill. Seeing the chair’s broken back led to a new tirade of profanity, from the furious monarch.

He turned to another angry circle pumping his hands furiously, “Get out of here you, assholes! Not you, dumb ass! You stay right where you are!

Phyllip roared, “Stop transcription; stop all recording, report when complete!”

There was a click over concealed speakers, “Done Sir. All inbound lines are deactivated, to your current room. You will hear the click when we close here. Step outside the room to reactivate the system.”

CEO Chroynos snapped, “Thank you, now get off my line!” Before the last of the Guardsmen squad exited, he shouted at Bryce, “I should cut you up and use your empty remains to upholster my reading chair! I have no clue how you could become such a raving moron in such a short period…” The door clicked shut, and the pop of the activated sound protection barrier followed immediately. Phyllip glanced at his ever-present glass pitcher of water; the vibrations told him he was secure.

“Finally,” Looking over to his chair, “Damn, I did break it.”

A very confused Guardsman Third Class kept his mouth shut, while the CEO of the Empire righted his chair, wiggled its broken back, and decided the damage would not be lethal to him for the next few moments. He sank carefully into his broken chair but did not lean against its broken back.

Phyllip pulled his notepad and pen across the desk and held it near vertical just below his eye level while he printed a name across the page. He flipped the pad face down and carefully tore the page from his pad of paper while keeping it close to his chest and folded it twice before handing it to the Guardsman. “Find him and you find my daughter. You saved her life this morning, so I am forced to assume you are not a traitor. Someone in this house is targeting her, and the rest of us, for extermination.”

Feeling the impossibility Bryce demanded, “But how Sir?! She disappeared into thin air. I have no idea how she did it. You yourself searched her room every night. I saw you! I was there, Sir!”

Phyllip revealed, “Bryce, what better way can you think of to smuggle things in than when I am personally ‘searching’ her room for things she isn’t supposed to have? We pre-positioned the most critical components to assist in her disappearance in her closet less than seven days after her return. She had help. She is exceedingly resourceful and well-trained contrary to what I let everyone else hear just now. She is much better trained than I ever imagined.”

Shocked, Bryce blithered, “Help Sir?! From you?!”

Phyllip agreed, “That’s right. She needs room to maneuver, and she doesn’t have it here in this prison under siege, where her cooks and maybe even her guards are trying to kill her.”

A very confused and now unnerved Guardsman unfolded the piece of paper and he read the name. “Sir! But this man is an exiled coward and traitor! I can’t even speak this name! It is against your law!”

Containing his frustration, he spoke, “Bryce, you have it in your hand directly from mine. So, I hope you realize that he is not so far outside my good graces as we’ve made it seem. You will not however speak that name because there could be very sophisticated opponents we are facing. Put that paper into your pocket and don’t take it out until you are well clear of the Citadel’s security envelope.” Phyllip looked at his vibrating water and worried about some type of undiscovered new device that his defensive system was incapable of defeating. “She will go to him. When you find him, you will find her. You are to stay with them as long as required. Your orders will be waiting for you when you arrive. Do you understand?”

Bryce snapped his understanding, “My Lord, my place is not to understand but to follow your orders without question. I am confused by a lot of this, but I will do as you ask and fight to the objective, even if it kills me.”

Phyllip added, “Good. Then you need to know that my little ruse cannot have us on such jovial terms when you leave. Do you understand the reason for that?”

Bryce sighed, guessing what was coming, “I understand it, my Lord. And I hate that it is necessary.”

Phyllip agreed, “So, do I Bryce,” Phyllip stood slowly from his chair. He flexed his hands, held his breath, and did all manner of exercises and strains to force his blood pressure up again, force his adrenaline level, and discolor his skin. “Do the same Bryce, it needs to look like you have been receiving the chewing of your life when you leave.”

Bryce asked, “Sir?”

The cracking slap of Phyllip’s left hand left a humiliating red handprint across the Guardsman’s face.

The surprised look was knocked off his face by the bowel-retching body blow delivered by the Imperial CEO. It was a crushing right uppercut to Bryce’s midsection. The punch collapsed his diaphragm and stunned the tall thin Guardsman.

Enraged by the surprise assault, Bryce’s Guardsman discipline frayed, and he switched to raging combat mode. His own off-balance right uppercut was deflected by Phyllip’s left-hand block which wrapped the blowback around Bryce’s own left shoulder.

Phyllip sidestepped, changed direction, and followed through with a sweeping kick to the back of Bryce’s legs. The younger man dropped hard to the floor on his back.

With no wind and seeing stars from the jarring impact, the CEO’s hand easily knocked aside Bryce’s feeble defense. He gripped Bryce’s black and gold Guard tunic, curled the weight one-handed, and dragged Bryce to the door. The straining muscles of Phyllip’s enhanced frame popped veins and cords from his whole upper body as he dragged the eighty-five-kilogram man to the door.

The exterior door opened as Phyllip approached dragging his victim. Dipping to add a second arm to the mass he was dragging, Phyllip curled and lifted the younger man to just below his own jaw. The anteroom of his office suite was packed with his own guard squad. His roar into the younger man’s face shook his own guards, standing scattered around the room. “Don’t come back until you have found my daughter and you have her safely returned!”

Phyllip’s adrenaline-fueled nanobots and enhanced circulatory-muscular-skeletal system allowed him to lift the tall thin Guardsman. Once Phyllip had Bryce firmly clenched in his fists, he threw Bryce through the door into the office anteroom. Bryce watched dazed and slightly confused as he drifted halfway across the room, half suspended in the air, before he slowed to a skidding tumbling crash at the other end of the office antechamber. Still shaking from his powerful but mimed rage and adrenaline, Phyllip could do nothing but stare venom at his own guard squad and shout, “Find somewhere else to be!”

Chapter 35)

Phyllip snapped, “Hades take you Thanatyos! I will not ‘leave your Guardsmen alone’!” The CEO looked ready to chew scrap metal and spit razor blades, as he leaned over the conference room table. Bent at the waist he towered over all those seated at the table. “We need to expect better from our Guardsmen. They lost their only charge the same day some vile assassin tried to kill her! Then somehow, she managed to walk straight through the Citadel’s security perimeter, which you are responsible for maintaining!”

Thanatyos squared off on his elder brother, “Don’t you try and push this farce off on me!” Thanatyos, the older-looking of the two brothers, snarled back. He had none of the rigorous physical routine or upgrades composite in his body and blood from the final days of Guardian Training. He had the basic enhancements that fantastic wealth could buy but they were no more than any other well-placed citizen was allowed. Thanatyos had not passed the second year’s ruthless winnowing, let alone faced the following ten winnowing that reduced class size by half every year. The closest he came to graduation was sitting with their parents at Phyllip’s graduation. “You are the moron who started this whole charade!”

The Lord High Commander of the Hegemony Guardsman, CEO Phyllip Chroynos, snapped at his brother, to whom he had delegated some personnel functions, “And just what the Hell is that supposed to mean, Thanatyos!”

Thanatyos snapped back, “I mean exactly what I said! If it wasn’t for you tampering with the order of the Guardsmen assignments this would never have happened! Instead, you insisted on picking your own flunkies and slotting them to that critical posting without proper compatibility vetting!”

Infuriated to the point of wanting to leap from his chair to strangle his brother, Phyllip instead opted for cutting sarcasm, “Oh?! And bang-up job you did on their predecessor, Thanatyos! Great job you and your proper vetting process did there!” Phyllip took a deep breath and calmed himself, while he gently and deliberately sat in his seat at the head of the conference room table.

He needed to tread carefully.

The dozen sets of eyes all represented variables in this very room.

Two of them were supremely important variables he needed to watch. To his left was Thanatyos his brother and second in the line of succession behind Persephone. To his right was Thomys, the Empire’s Vice President. One of them was a steadfast friend for decades, and the other his closest living family member. Both had the power to initiate the recent attacks. The abject fear and hopeless sinking pit in his stomach that resulted from the attack on Persephone less than eighteen hours prior was shredding his trust in everyone, even those closest to him.

He knew he was not paranoid because whoever ‘they’ were, they were succeeding in slaughtering his family. He needed to maintain his calm and act deliberately. He could not let anyone see the fear and anxiety that left him staring at the ceiling the whole night prior, after sending Bryce to meet Persephone and Samson. His severe worry about that decision was next to crippling, by itself. In a much calmer voice, “Your psychological compatibility studies between the ex-Guardsman, ‘John Smith’ and his ‘charge’ were too close to the mark the last time.”

He evaded, “I can’t be blamed for that!” Thanatyos sputtered, “How was I to know that something as preposterous as a romantic emotional relationship would develop!?”

Phyllip snapped, “Precisely! She was a fourteen-year-old girl. Not even a fourteen-year-old girl knows what is rattling around in her own fourteen-year-old head. Your compatibility studies could never have predicted what happened. That is why, after that last unfortunate incident, I put two Guardsmen there. I picked the stingiest, most duty-bound, wooden columns I ever served with!”

Thomys mumbled, “Except for that one. That fourteen-year-old girl turned twenty-one-year-old woman now, seemed to know exactly what was ‘rattling around in her own head’ the whole time.” It was the first time the whole afternoon that Thomys had said anything other than what was strictly required by his duty. His soft manner and deliberate candor drew attention as fast as Phyllip’s emotional tirade had moments before. “Persephone knows exactly what she wants. From my personal experience dealing with my own three hell-cat daughters, at that age, none of them can resist a big strong wounded animal that they can nurse back to health. Or any age for that matter. Remember all those critters Persephone always collected as a child?”

Phyllip groaned, “She does have a way of seizing what she wants.”

He was followed by a voice down the table, mumbling, “like Scylla and Charybdis.”

As the descriptive analogies continued from someone else, Phyllip’s head throbbed, “Like a red giant swallowing its solar system.”

Phyllip slumped forward onto his left hand, rubbing his eyes.

Someone else who was in the family and had known the family for decades chimed in, “You mean a black hole…”

Frustrated at the ribbing, Phyllip wiped his hand across his face, before throwing it aside in aggravation and snapping, “Yeah-yeah, thank you all for your very helpful input, and bludgeoning the point to paste,” Phyllip’s right hand flailed the air with the words as he rubbed his aching eyes, with the left, “None of that addresses the problem of our porous security. Someone was able to compromise one of our employees and turn her into a military-grade sleeper assassin. The assassin almost killed a top-grade veteran Guardsman and my last living child.” Phyllip’s hands collapsed to the table as he sat back. “We need to worry about our own house for a while. We need to get things in order here. Bryce will bring her back.”

Thanatyos quipped, “And if he doesn’t?”

Phyllip snapped, “What do you mean by that Thanatyos?”

Thanatyos droned like it was obvious, “Well after the drubbing you gave him, I’ll be surprised if he comes back at all. The Guardsmen are terrified of you now Phyllip!”

His brother’s continued snarky crap was starting to irritate Phyllip, “And how is that supposed to move my black little heart? It was one of their ever-softening ranks that ‘misplaced’ my daughter.”

Thanatyos seemed to whine petulantly, highlighting the hurt feelings of professional soldiers, “They are chattering about it on every secure channel that they think they possess about how the Emperor tossed one of their ranks across a room and sent your own guard squad scurrying!”

That Thanatyos was spying on the High Commander’s troops while not a surprise, should not have been stated publicly. Phyllip demanded, “And precisely what is your point Thanatyos!?”

Thanatyos snapped back fiercely, “Phyllip! The whole Citadel will hear about this before long! This is a public relations nightmare! You beat your daughter’s own Guardsman to a bloody mess, and you scattered your own Guard squad! I’ll wager the rumors will be off-world with the first Naval patrol that reaches a destination.”

The Guardsmen High Commander and Emperor reclined in his CEO’s chair and eyed his brother. “Thanatyos, has it ever occurred to you, in all your years of running the Guard assignments, and security that we train Guardsmen as warriors from the time they can read? And maybe they aren’t complaining. Maybe they are impressed with the alpha male of this particular pack. A pack that just happens to span two hundred solar systems each populated by at least a billion-plus souls and five times that number of resource stars all with their own substantial populations. Have you considered that that same pack’s Alpha-Male is not only one of their own ranks but still just as tough as they are? Has it dawned on you they may just be proud of that fact?”

Chapter 36)

Vlad mocked, “Well, well, well, look what showed up on my doorstep. I figured the scavengers would have gotten your ugly carcass by now. Have you finished that bottle already? Need another?”

Samson retorted, “Go to hell you old Mist-Rat. No, they haven’t gotten me yet, they keep trying but they haven’t caught me. Come to think of it, I am getting a touch low. I will probably need to come back in a few days for a refill. I’m here because I do have some commission work for you Vlad.”

Voice oozing with boredom, Vlad asked, “Really? This sounds interesting. Will it get me killed or is it more mercantile in nature?”

Samson shrugged and told the pirate, “Mercantile. You can keep that ugly hide attached for a few more days. I have a shopping list for you.”

Vlad grumbled, dismissively, “A ‘shopping list’? Why can’t you do your own shopping? Or does it have something to do with your mystery guest from your last stay here?”

Samson dangled the carrot, “It has everything to do with my ‘mystery guest’ and I will pay, on completion, a two hundred percent margin on goods prices plus your expenses. Use as many cutouts as you like, but I need secure delivery.”

Suspicious Vlad demanded, “Really? No one pays that much. Well, no one in their right mind at least, for just a shopping list. What are you buying, nukes?”

Samson droned, “No nukes today, I’m buying new clothes.” Samson slid a digital reader over the countertop. Then he reclined straight backed in the chair and propped his feet on the side post of the manager’s counter. He shifted so the sword hilt at the seat helped support his back. “Everything is there on the list, prices totaled and tabulated, plus ten percent for expenses. The store cost of goods up front is your earnest payment. Expenses paid on delivery for only those goods you actually deliver. The remainder of the bonus and profit are paid upon full completion of the order down to the last sock. Anonymous delivery is required for pickup here, I am paying a premium for security, not clothing.”

Absently scrolling through the list while reviewing the payment arrangements in his head, Vlad knew Samson was a ‘take it or leave it’ customer today. He also knew it would be cheaper to steal most of the items on the list. It was all designer stuff and high-end everything. There was no specification about the ‘how’ he acquired the goods. Given Samson’s typical attention to detail that was probably not an omission. Vlad offered, “There are no… ‘intimates’ on this list.”

Samson warned, “Leave that alone, you raunchy old fart.”

Vlad shrugged, “Fair enough. There are almost two hundred thousand credits worth of stuff listed here. Samson, that brandy you buy is shipped all the way here from Old Earth and is only seven hundred fifty credits when I sell it to suckers with more money than brains in my little corner bar. The only thing I have that is more expensive is thirty-six-year-old Scotch whiskey. Are you sure you want me to start looking around for this stuff? I can buy a combat vehicle for this much money. Hell, after you pay my commission, I could probably buy a starship. Or I could park two operational and armed tanks out front of my gate as riot control.”

Samson agreed, “You can buy a starship for that much. I priced them for fun on the way over here. You can pick one up slightly used and it is a captured ship, from another conglomerate, so maintenance would be a nightmare, but it’s drive-capable. And why didn’t you tell me you had Whiskey?”

Vlad thumbed through the list and spoke absently, “Because, I don’t drink it dumb-ass. How long do I have for delivery?”

Samson shrugged and shared, “Two days, three at the most. Then I will come and pick it up with your final payment.”

Vlad speculated, “And if I take your money and run?”

Samson intoned, “You won’t. You are too greedy and practical to pass on the remaining four hundred thousand credits for two days’ work. And you know I will hunt you down, collect my money, and cut the interest out of your flesh in small strips. You will never see me watching you anyway.”

Emotionally uninterested, Vlad reminded, “You are a heartless bastard. Deal. I need three days though; it will take almost a day to organize my people and locate most of these items.”

Samson warned, “I should charge you extra for making me stay up watching you for seventy-two standard hours.”

Vlad scoffed, and ordered, “Go to hell. I’ll probably need to employ fifty people to collect all this stuff. Payment?”

Samson stood and drew his sword, causing Vlad to raise an eyebrow and take a step back from his own seat. Samson held the sword pommel up; he played with the pummel of the blade and removed the end cap. Rotating the sword blade up a wrapped tube slid out of the handle. When he saw Vlad’s look Samson replied, “It’s a custom blade. This is just one of my little tricks. The coin rolls are the same size as the interior counterweight. They don’t stabilize the blade or even have the same mass, so I don’t use the blade when carrying cargo.”

Samson reached into his pocket and pulled out a long metal tube with a thin but deep notch at the end. He dropped it in the void and twisted the plug until it dropped snugly into the cavity and he locked the end cap securely into place. With a flourish, the blade returned home, with a click.

Samson pressed the roll diagonally, which caused the thin wrapper to tear revealing the gold ten thousand credit denomination coins of the Empire. Crumpling and pocketing the wrapper Samson counted the twenty coins individually into four meticulously even rows of five coins each. When he finished, he looked up at Vladimir.

Vladimir sighed in disappointment, “Two hundred thousand credits sitting on my counter right now and it is a completely unimpressive sight. I always imagined swimming in that much money, but I can hold it in the palm of one hand.”

Annoyed, Samson warned, “You’re not interested anymore? I can take ’em back if you want?”

Vlad snapped, “Touch them and I will beat your ass, young buck. They are on my counter, so they are mine now. I’ll take your job, ‘anonymous delivery’ guaranteed; if anyone snoops it won’t be my people. Kill them and leave my guys alone. You have your deal and your ‘anonymous’ delivery.”

Samson confirmed, “Three days?”

Vlad acknowledged, “Three days. Check back this time, on the delivery day and you can inventory before final payment.”

Chapter 37)

Persephone was so comfortable and warm that she did not even want to move. If she could purr without the exertion of breathing, she would have done so. Her head was comfortably cradled in the crook of Samson’s left arm, while she stroked her forearm along his chest and shoulders, with her own left hand trailing lightly. Her right leg held him prisoner, wrapped over his left leg, while her right hand rubbed from abdominal muscles to flank. “Samson?”

Answering instinctively, Samson asked, “Yes Persephone?”

She used her smooth purring and could not resist my voice, “I want to do something today. Lounging is fun but we haven’t seen anything outside these walls in a week.”

He reminded her, “Eight days actually.”

Without breaking contact with her love, she flipped over to her chest. She grabbed his ears and with a smiling growl delivered to his nose, while she shook his head from side to side, “You presume to correct me,” her indignant emphasis on ‘me’ only made it funnier, “You dirty peasant man!”

Samson flatly agreed with her, “No baby, I would never presume to correct you.”

Smug, Persephone relaxed, “Well good. Your punishment would be swift and horrible if you did.” Persephone kissed his nose and smiled as she reclined again.

Samson drowsily replied, “Good I would hate to receive a ‘swift and horrible’ punishment. It might send me into fits of nerves. That’s why I didn’t ‘presume to correct’ you. I actually did correct you.”

She accused playfully, “Traitor, miscreant, deceiver, liar!” Her paired hands shook his head from side to side with each invective, “I shall have you flayed and fed to my guests at our next dinner party!”

He corrected her again, “Well if you were feeding me to your guests, I wouldn’t really be ‘at’ the party. So, it wouldn’t be an ‘our’ dinner party, it would be yours. I would be the main course so I wouldn’t really be able to attend to make it an ‘our’ party” Sounding as bored as he could manage, “I imagine I will be cooking in my own juices somewhere while you are rubbing elbows with the quality.”

She threatened, “Fine! I’ll feed you to the hounds then.”

Samson sounded extremely bored when he replied, “You still don’t have any hounds.”

She snapped, “I’ll buy some!”

Mocking her game, Samson asked, “So, you’re not going to have any guests at this dinner party other than your hounds?”

She answered, “And you.”

Samson spoiled, “I’ll be the main course. I won’t show up until the meal is actually served. So, I’m afraid I would be dreadfully late and that would be impolite.”

She teased, “Main course! Oh no… You, good Sir, will be an ‘appetizer’!”

Playing along now, Samson asked, “Really? I’m just an appetizer? Will I have a good dipping sauce at least?”

“Yes,” Persephone’s eyes flicked up while she pondered her menu, “Something with a mango glaze, maybe a sweet and sour to match your unstable disposition.”

Quoting her, “My ‘unstable disposition’ is it now?”

Persephone’s enthusiastic, smiling, nod sent her hair flying into comical disarray.

Amused, Samson teased, “Well, in that case,” the crack of his right hand on her naked bottom elicited a very un-princess-like squawk, “Get out of bed. You have lounged long enough today.” He stood and dumped her back onto the mattress and pillow while sliding his feet into the plastic shower shoes. This open-toe replacement footwear could not conceal any insect surprises in the morning. That was a definite upgrade from his last pair of footwear.

Persephone accused, “You ‘Sir’, are mean and disagreeable this morning.”

Turning back to her while she curled in the warm sheets and bedding, “No it is just my ‘unstable disposition’.” His quick hands tossed the covers off her and onto the floor at the foot of the bed, while he raced for the safety of the locked bathroom.

By the time Samson exited Persephone was dressed in comfortable exercise clothes, “Ha-ha, now I have the advantage.”

Not taking her shit, he ordered, “Yes, well, take your ‘little advantages’ out of the way so I can leave the bathroom, get dressed, and we can start our workout.”

She said, “Fine, you big bully.” Climbing to the tops of her toes to be on his eye level she planted a soft kiss on his lips and flopped herself on the couch, while Samson moved to the twin bed. As he lay, face down, on the bed, Persephone was sorely tempted to take off her light workout shoe, throw it at him and bounce it off his naked bottom.

Samson muscled the intractable ‘under-bed space saving feature’ from under the bed. Some prior occupants had stood on or overloaded the cheaply made ‘feature’ which was actually just a drawer and cracked its support rollers, under his half of the bed. The full-length drawer was supposed to stow items smoothly under the bed. The ‘geniuses’ who designed the place failed to account for those annoying little things attached at the bottom of legs called ‘feet’ that everyone stands on. The oversight forced a series of otherwise unfathomable dilemmas. The first choice was that the user could only use the half of the drawer they could reach from the bottom of the bed. The second choice was the user could only use the front half, and lose all the space to the back because your feet were in the way. The third choice was the user could dig in the drawer face down on the bed while looking for whatever article was stowed in that particular drawer. The final choice was the user could choose not to use the infernal drawer at all.

Samson had initially chosen to ‘not use it at all’. After all, he had only his equipment and the clothes on his back. These were of both high quality and superbly durable, so he did not need many sets of clothes or abundant places to store them. His limited number of items had once-upon-a-time spread lazily around both the front drawer and kitchen countertop. That front drawer was no longer his. He was evicted from the countertop too.

He had been furious with Vlad four days prior when he arrived to pick up the pathetically small pile of boxed clothing. Two hundred thousand credits worth of clothing and he could have saved all the effort, expense, and bribes associated with transporting it all from ground level back to their tiny apartment. He remembered thinking he could have hauled it himself, in two trips. Unfortunately, he had prepaid half the money upfront to the porters and brought some men from his apartment block to help him carry the packages. He now not only owed the money, but he would see the men constantly if he tried to back out, and he did not want to draw attention to Persephone.

His headache was so bad by the time he finished the inventory and found it ‘complete’ that his eyes hurt. He ripped open several of the boxes and found everything was intact and one hundred percent accurate according to the scan. He tendered final payment to Vlad in a daze and called in the porters he had hired.

The porters and Vlad were happy. The porters were prepaid for a heavy day’s work and had only handbags worth carrying. And Vlad had piles of precious coins, in exchange for three days’ worth of work.

Persephone had been concealed in the bathroom reading, while the delivery was completed and final payment to the porters was tendered.

Persephone had gone off like a nuke when she saw the pathetic array of boxes. Her invectives and persistent questions about the possible locations of Samson’s head and brain were so forceful he was surprised Guardsmen from the Citadel had not heard her and showed up at the door.

It took him almost an hour to explain that everything was scanned as present and that he had checked everything himself to ensure accuracy.

Still not satisfied, Persephone ripped open a random box on her own and pulled out a tiny cube. “What the hell is this Samson?! Tell me! Tell me what this thing is! Does this look like clothes to you?!”

At a loss for what was actually in the tiny cube, Samson pulled out his invoice and scanned the box, and component cube in her hand, “Socks, silk, left/right paired set. They are the same brand as you had asked for… Look!” Holding the invoice, he had read displaying the correct individual item for her inspection. He took the tiny cube, while she angrily snatched the invoice and prowled it for errors.

While playing with the cube, Samson found a corner and pressed, which popped the cube open, and a pair of black silk socks exploded into the space between them. Persephone jumped, while Samson caught them midair and handed the pair to her with a shrug.

Eyeing the materials, Persephone muttered, “Well, these are the right socks.” Persephone reached out to shake his hand holding the tiny ruptured cube, “But this isn’t the box they come in!”

The old mist rat had intercepted a load of articles that were en route to a warehouse. The items were compressed in shipping containers to conserve expensive secure storage spaces in the warehouses. These were not the fancy pretty boxes she was accustomed to seeing wrapping the trinkets she received.

While one by one the items on the list popped into existence Persephone became happier and happier as her stack of pretties grew. Samson became more and more worried as he looked around the ever-too-small apartment and the growing pile of expensive clothes.

All of Persephone’s happy unpacking four days earlier had led directly to Samson bending over the bed naked, digging in the broken drawer he hated to use because his stuff had been ‘moved’ when her stuff arrived.

The new clothing hutch was now full and occupied the wall, and all the space between, up to the back of the fold-out dining table. This made ‘eating time’ and ‘dressing time’ permanently mutually exclusive events. You could not open the clothing hutch with the table down. The fit was too tight, and the table locked the doors closed when it was down.

The only items of his in the hutch were his overcoat and a few warm outer shirts. All the rest was tightly folded and regimentally packed in the broken drawer under the bed.

‘Locating’ his items was easy. They were packed according to his load plan. Retrieving what was needed rather than repacking around the removed items was time-consuming.

When they were finally dressed the pair started stretching and warming up in the limited space available. When Samson was ready for his strength work Persephone reclined on his back while he started doing slow precise push-ups. She enjoyed the feel of Samson’s slow steady rocking while she reclined comfortably on his back. She enjoyed feeling Samson’s strength improve as the number, stability, and ease of these partnered push-ups. indicated his physical progress. He was always strong, but he had actually become stronger over the last week.

Persephone prompted, “Love?”

Samson strained to keep his wind while talking and not breaking his pace, “Yes Persephone.”

She stated, “I want to go somewhere today.”

Samson said as he finished an upward movement, “Fine.” He concluded on his downward halt, “Where?”

She asked, “I want to see where you work.”

Samson collapsed to the floor, at that distraction, and both had the wind knocked out of them.

Thank You!

Thank you for reading this chapter!

Your next chapter is HERE.

If you liked what you read and you are interested in the full book the links are HERE on the Honor of the Fallen book page…

However, if you are more interested in the narrated version, you can catch the start of your author-narrated series HERE:

Enjoy!