THE GUARDSMAN: Book 2: Blood Debts – Chapters 62-64

Welcome to the adventure!

Your newest SciFi, Mystery, Thriller started YESTERDAY AFTERNOON!  If you missed it, please feel free to click back to the beginning, or read on and see if you like what you’ve found & loop back later! 😉

This page is for those who wish to READ the full Guardsman book series here for free.

If you would like to listen to the author-narrated version OR own your copy please click HERE…

Enjoy!

The Guardsman, Book 2: Blood Debts:

Chapter 62)

The luncheon at the Citadel was most definitely not going according to plan. The lunch had been moments away from concluding when the Home Guard officer acting as messenger brought the news of the live broadcast from Persephone. He had been sent away to confirm Phyllip Chroynos’ orders to send a whole company of Home Guard to save his daughter and as relief for Samson.

Guillermo was around the corner recording the melee. The audio in April’s microphone had captured Persephone’s insane departing words, the assassin’s curse, and April’s undignified squawk, before she ran around the corner to Guillermo who was recording the last of the assassin’s fight with the workers.

A distressed mother muttered, “Oh, sweet Goddesses of Mercy and Good Fortune, and anybody else of that sort, who just might happen to be listening to me at the moment. Please let that impossible daughter of mine be alright, so I can choke the life out of her when I finally see her again for putting her mother through this, on this, my harrying and overly entertaining afternoon … Thank you. Thank you all, Goddesses, for listening to my humble prayer.” From behind shaking hands, Celine Chroynos could begin to see the formal lunch that had turned into an all-day affair. The crowd was all looking at her, as were everyone from her husband down to the far wings of the table.

That was when she realized that not only had she said that obscene prayer out loud but, had been leaning on her ‘push to talk button’ with her right elbow and had broadcast to the entire room.

Her hands still shaking but now equal parts worry and embarrassment, she looked over the hundreds of faces. The faces that might as well have been any segment of those who had watched the broadcast all afternoon and into the evening. She looked out over the hundreds of faces who were all staring at her in wonderment.

The Empire’s beacon of propriety, manners, and etiquette had just uttered the most obscene prayer any of them had ever heard in any public setting.

While the mother blushed profusely in embarrassment, Phyllip Chroynos barked a loud, “Amen!”

The news network began rerunning video replays and doing a sound-over interview with April and the employees, who had risen to defend Persephone on the factory rooftop from the assassin’s assault. It wasn’t until the disjointed interview switched over to the studio questioning April, that Celine shot to her feet and shouted at the screen.

Celine shouted so loud that she didn’t need her ‘push to talk button’ for everyone in the room to hear her, “She did what!?”

The question that had set Celine off was directed at April, in response to the question from the anchor asking where Persephone and Samson had disappeared to. The ragged and exhausted April just sighed and ran her hands through her ruined hair.

When April explained that Persephone and Samson had both jumped off the building and disappeared into the traffic, she added that one of the assassins had been standing next to her when she last saw Persephone and Samson plunging through the thin air, before she had run from the assassin and into the mob of workers.

April’s shock-addled brain left her tongue running on autopilot as she meticulously described Persephone’s departing speech, ludicrous swan dive off the side of a two-kilometer tall building into traffic, followed by Samson, April’s surprise at the assassin who snuck up on her and then running to Guillermo’s side away from the attackers.

Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, Celine fell back into her chair nearly hyperventilating.

An openly frustrated, yet inwardly smiling, father’s hand fell over his wife’s. “How is it that no one can locate them but assassins and newsies. It’s like they vanish off the planet when she’s not on camera.”

Thanatyos began his sputtered and near incoherent excuses in front of the assembled guests seeking to explain away how the princess still remained at large. Oblivious to the presence of all the ranking guests, and obviously just trying to cover his own exposed rear end, Thanatyos’ ebbing esteem fell dramatically in the opinion of and watchful eyes of the Peers of the Realm.

Phyllip’s waving hand and shaking head silenced his brother before the tirade further damaged his brother’s credibility. “That’s enough Thanatyos. We know they are hard to find. We have had this discussion before.”

Phyllip was suddenly thankful that his obnoxious nephew, Kazimir, was still banned, by Celine, from formal and family functions for another three weeks. The ban was still imposed by Celine since the date of his last several untimely and crass outbursts, at their small family gatherings, immediately following the first assassination attempt on Persephone and her second disappearance. The fool had immediately recommitted his offense and as a result, his probation had been extended another four months.

The last thing Phyllip needed was Kazimir’s mouth at his table right now too.

Chapter 63)

Persephone lay peacefully unmoving across Samson’s left arm and up onto the pillow. Her slow and steady breathing and her occasional hand movements betrayed the depth of her sleep resulting from the day’s exhaustion.

Samson’s hand idly rolled his fingers from her stomach to her side, down Persephone’s side, to her hip, and back to her front again. Many hours had slipped into the past while his eyes stared sightlessly into the windowless black of the room.

The uneasy mind behind those eyes didn’t even register when he blinked. The microsecond of black was no different from the pitch black of the room. ‘How did they find us?’ he thought. ‘Sure, it was a live interview this time, but no one knew where we were going to be. And the crew didn’t meet us where we were going to broadcast … They could have tracked the signal origin from the crew’s equipment … No, think it through. Think only about the details in order. Samson, stop being stupid and making stuff up on your own. The attack came from the holding force first. Then I told April and Guillermo to start the live broadcast. The assassins only moved early because I saw that one guy … It could have been two different squads, but they worked too well together to not have coordination … They could have someone at the network … They could have hacked the network’s systems … It could have been one of the crew who sold us out. But I don’t think so though, they were both too surprised. And not ‘this isn’t what I signed on for’ surprised, the fact that they were ‘scooped and in imminent danger’ was as much of a surprise as the attack and there were only the two of them. It’s not like they had a whole large crew there with more people than I could keep an eye on. They could have tagged the crew for surveillance.

‘We have used the same crew all these times in a row, how many interviews have we done since the first?

The first interview was at the starship foundry, then the cargo terminal, then the office building, then the creche, then today’s.’

Samson muttered, “Damn.”

Persephone stirred, and her right hand involuntarily clasped over his stomach twice but settled back into her deep sleep Samson slipped his own into her hand. She squeezed it again and didn’t wake.

He went back to his own thoughts, ‘The hit team was reasonably far behind our arrival. So, they didn’t arrive with us. We were far enough into the original interview that they could have waited for the recording to get well underway before closing distance. They could have just waited for the reporters to hold one position long enough that it could have been the interview location. They could have confirmed it was the right time or received authorization for visual contact. So, they tracked the crew somehow. With the number of cutouts we use, there is no way they could have tagged Persephone.

‘Yes.

‘They had to attack when I saw that first guy. That first squad was a point team. They were too light to handle security, set up a proper perimeter in a place that large, and made sure they finished the job. They were small enough to observe, but large enough to survive if they got into contact. Pros, but, ‘hasty’ is the best word I can think of to describe them. They were hasty like they weren’t ready and were rushed into action.

‘Damn! They were. They were pros. They were smart. They maintained a standoff to pin us down while the rest of the crew scrambled and rallied. When the rest arrived and started pouring in, the point team advanced with the rest. They must have been the surveillance team on the vid-crew, somehow. A bug or digital tag on them or their equipment somehow. They got lucky and reported that they had ‘eyes on’ Persephone, and their paymaster must have kicked the rest of them into gear early. That was why they were such a cluster-fuck when they arrived. They were good but scrambled and on an improvised attack. They didn’t have the building plans or their assault plan in place.

‘The paymaster is getting frustrated and impatient. He, or she, … or they, need to be forcing things at this point. I had no idea we were under surveillance until the camera crew got busted and that team showed up following them, and that one came around the corner too fast. They are having trouble tracking us and are trying to pattern our connections. Tracking the people that we work with?

‘So, what now?’

Samson carefully disengaged his hand from Persephone’s and reached over his head, to feel the two pistols that now hung from the headboard. He slipped his hand back under the sheet and into her waiting hand.

‘So, the vid-crew was patterned or had a tracking device on them. What are the options available? Persephone still needs to be seen, though I may convince her to lay low I don’t think that will work. She’s right that they could just catch us in some dark corridor and make us disappear, and that would be the end of the story.

‘So, we can’t disappear, or the other side could make it permanent. We could alternate crews.

‘Maybe randomly pick a network or contact a talker directly. That could get complicated. We, or the crew, would need to do something electronic eventually which would leave a footprint someone could track. Or we could track them down at home and make the offer in person. I’m not sure we could go back to the courier method, the bad guys will get wise to that and start tracking courier services and they keep records too, which would again lead back to Persephone.

‘Or we could do a delayed server delivery.

‘No that won’t work, they can track the terminal or comm, and the meeting point will be compromised.

‘No, wait … that could work.

‘We could run a variation on the first time we met. Set the meeting point to a public place where we can hang back and watch them move, from the crowd. Then we could have them move to a series of stations back and forth in the area. We keep them there for a while so we can watch anyone following them or paying extra attention.

‘I think that if we make it direct but complicated enough we could disappear the connection and break any tracking, no matter how advanced.

‘Maybe do a direct drop onto their person from some dupe we give a hundred credits to and an envelope. The problem is surveillance as always. If they go high enough, they could pull the vid from any system. If they have enough patience, they can piece it together and track down the people moving back and forth helping or employed by us.’

Pleased with the simple solution to the overly complicated problem, and acknowledging risks he could finally mitigate, Samson finally exhaled deeply, looked at the time, relaxed his mind, and his eyes finally closed in preparation for sleep.

Samson’s heart skipped a beat and his eyes opened suddenly.

He looked at the clock and almost an hour and a half had passed since he last saw the time.

Something ripped him from his sleep.

He heard it again, a metal scraping on metal, very faint but a sound. His hand pulled free of Persephone’s, and it covered her mouth.

His left hand and arm closed around her firmly, urgently, but gently and shook her once.

Samson’s harshly silent whisper was not needed, “Love, we’re in trouble!”

She was awake and already knew something was wrong.

He found her right hand in the pitch dark and pushed the pistol firmly into her grip under the sheets. She pulled away to slip behind the limited cover the bed would offer. He pushed three magazines into her elbow, in the dark, while she sat on the floor beside the bed.

He drew the pistol that he had repaired when they arrived home but didn’t let go of the magazines until he felt her hand close around the offered reloads.

He slipped out of bed and skulked silently behind the wall that divided the shower from the galley kitchen. There he sank to a knee and peaked around the corner. There was no observation device under the door. But there were two feet, or rather shadows of feet, cast by the dimmed evening/early morning corridor lighting.

Samson laid his reload magazines next to his right foot. He trapped the empty side of the pouch under his foot. That way the reloads were easily available, seventeen, fifty round magazines worth of reloads. If he lived long enough to use them all they would need to send a cleanup crew with a bulldozer just to remove that many bodies.

Samson’s paranoia bottle perched on the door’s interior handle shifted. Persephone still called him paranoid about the bottle and had attached the name to it, but that would probably change in the morning if they lived that long.

The bottle was upended by the turning handle, fell, struck the floor, and clattered several times making a loud hollow drumming every time it struck the floor.

From the other side of the door came a heartfelt “Shit! Don’t shoot me please.” The plea was followed by three polite knocks.

Samson was on his feet moving to the door, pistol pulled back to his ear. He used his left hand to pop the two additional interior locks he had added, followed by the deadbolt and handle. He stepped back from the cracked door. The door slowly inched its way open with its own balance. The pistol still cradled close; his left elbow sat snug against the bottom fingers of his right hand. Whoever entered would never be able to grab the pistol away before he was either drilled by the rounds or blocked by Samson’s left arm.

Crouched back in the shadows of the kitchen, a stranger’s fingers began to appear through the cracked door, followed by whole hands.

Samson heard himself ask, “Are you alone?”

The intruder croaked, “Yes, the corridor is empty.”

Samson ordered, “On my command, place both of your hands on the wall by the door jam, palms facing the wall, place your nose against the wall, and sidestep into the room.

“If either hand leaves the wall or if you look to the rear, or your nose leaves the wall, the last thing to go through your brain will be the air pulled into the hole after the bullet passes through your skull.

“Slowly.

“Move now.”

The filthy bum placed his dirty hands against the wall. Even in the gloom of the dimmed hall lighting and the shadows it cast, it was obvious this man was filthy. Samson could imagine Persephone cringing at the real or imagined dirt streaks left on the wall as the nose and hands moved deeper into the residence.

The door finally drifted to a bumping halt against the kitchen counter. Samson slipped silently into the gap, first checking for shadows cast on the floor by others, then quickly side to side, before finally sticking his head out into the hall and checking the full corridor.

He sidestepped to his right and placed his pistol at the back of the intruder’s neck. The man’s nose was still pressed to the wall. Samson kicked the door closed with his left foot and slapped the light panel with his left hand.

Samson ordered, “On your knees.”

The stranger cursed, “Shit…”

Samson coldly corrected, “I didn’t say talk. I said get on your knees. Now!”

The filthy rumpled figure bent and sank as he settled to the floor, still pressing his nose and hands to the wall. The side of Samson’s eye could see Persephone covered behind the mattress with her pistol lined up with the intruder’s bearded face.

Samson was glad that he was standing back, with the pistol pressed to the back of the intruder’s head. If Persephone fired the fast-moving bone chunks from Persephone’s pistol round would sting like hell if they hit his naked body. The blood would wash off, but bone chunks would hurt.

Samson demanded, “Where is your identification?”

The stranger’s right hand moved.

Samson moved faster. Samson’s left hand snatched the matted hair, and the pistol butt slammed into the intruder’s right ear, eliciting a sharp cry from the figure. It was ground to nothing as Samson’s left hand cinched tight in the matted hair and smashed the face into the wall.

He corrected, “I said ‘Where is it’! I didn’t say a thing about moving your hands. Now follow directions and answer me.”

The vaguely familiar voice mumbled past the pained ear, “Overcoat, right breast interior pocket.”

Samson’s left hand released the figure’s filthy hair and pulled the coat across to the center of the intruder’s back. Flipping the coat inside out and behind, with his pistol still pressed into the back of the kneeling man’s head, Samson fished into the exposed pocket for the identification card.

He pulled it and flipped it so he could read it. “Shit, you never could follow directions, you idiot. On your feet.”

Persephone demanded, “Samson, who is this person breaking into our home and why haven’t you shot him in the back of the head yet?”

Both men looked at Persephone who had arisen from her place behind the bed but still held her pistol on the intruder.

The filthy bum blurted, “My Lady! You’re not wearing any clothes!”

Samson’s backhanded left, slapped the other man’s face, turning his gaze away from Persephone and down to the wall at his left, “Shut up and close your eyes, Bryce. You’re the one breaking and entering when sane people are sleeping.”

Persephone demanded, “Bryce? Mosquito! What are you doing here?!”

Samson turned to the door to secure and lock the various security devices and locate his ‘paranoia bottle’. It had rolled away somewhere.

Bryce stuttered, “Well, um … yes, my … my, ah … my Lady,” fumbled the banished and disconcerted Guardsman who had once been Persephone’s bodyguard after Samson’s fall.

Turning from replacing his bottle on the doorknob Samson intoned, “Bryce if I have to tell you to turn your eyes again I will pop them out of your skull with my thumbs, shove the dead orbs up your ass and out your mouth so you can’t talk anymore. Do you understand me?”

Bryce snapped, “Yes, Sir!” Bryce turned to face the door.

Curious Persephone asked, “Samson, how do you know my Mosquito?”

Samson remarked indifferently, “I trained this idiot. He first showed up to bother me as a replacement on AN-42-whatever. He patched me up when I got these,” Samson tapped the ugly abdominal entry and exit scars, from where the enemy round had entered low, bounced off his back plate, and blew out the other side of his guts. He walked past Bryce, who was still silently facing the door.

Samson’s left hand on the left scar and the pistol barrel indicated the jagged right-side exit scar, “When I got back to the unit, he was still alive and in my squad. So, I figured he was alright, and taught him until I rotated out of the platoon. It was his first deployment and he was a few years behind me. He learned and didn’t ‘get dead’.”

Samson scooped up the magazine pouch from the corner floor where he had placed it and walked back to the bed, enjoying one particular sight, along the way. Replacing the magazine pouch on the headboard and slinging the pistols, Samson was treated to watching her slip back into bed and a nice kiss. This was followed by her requesting, “Can we please keep my Mosquito? But we need to clean him up first. He stinks like he has been sleeping in garbage.”

Samson brushed some imaginary hair back from her eyes and kissed her again, “I suppose you can have a pet. Just don’t make it a habit of bringing home strays.”

Bryce muttered, “I heard that.”

Simultaneously Persephone and Samson replied, “Shut up you.” While looking down at her smile Samson couldn’t resist another kiss. He had to duck her encircling arms or be pulled forever into her temptation. She shot an amused little look at his escape and earned a soft kiss on her hand.

Samson pulled on shorts, “All right Bryce. The bathroom is on the opposite side of the wall from your nose and hand smudges. Everyone is decent now. You can turn around.”

Bryce snapped, “Yes Sir.”

Persephone wondered happily, “So Mosquito, I’m dying to ask. Why are you such a mess?”

Bryce began, “I’m sorry my lady. After you left…”

Samson interrupted, “Bryce, you can walk and talk too. Get your rotting carcass in the bathroom and strip to your shorts. You can answer while you do it.”

Bryce snapped obediently, “Yes Sir. Sorry, My Lady.” He entered the bathroom and started stripping out of his dirty clothes while Samson placed a chair in front of the sink to shave Bryce’s matted hair. He pointed to it, and Bryce got the message and sat. Bryce started his tale, “After you disappeared, I was in a heap of trouble. I was chewed in front of the whole guard detachment, by your father. Then he sent them out, secured the room, and switched off the anger. It was the weirdest thing. Like he was play-acting!” The buzz of the clippers and falling hair started him talking louder. “He told me to find Samson and that I would find you when I did. He didn’t even trust his secure system and wrote it on a piece of paper. Since I was a little confused I did exactly as he said.” He paused thinking, “Then he beat me senseless! I don’t think I have ever been hit that hard in my life. When he was done, he opened his door. He picked me up and then tossed me across the waiting room and told his guards to leave too. He went from furious, to conversational, to furious and it was like I was watching two different people.”

The matted hair continued to fall as Bryce continued, “So I spent the first few weeks with some money in my pockets. Then after that, I spent the next month or so wandering around penniless! The bastards at the Citadel put a ‘stop-pay’ on me! They seized my bank accounts and closed my access to systems! I couldn’t believe it! I was kicked out of service, even though the CEO told me exactly what I needed to do!”

Persephone, speaking loudly to be heard over the clippers corrected, “Appearances Mosquito. What else happened to you? Your story is still about three months short.”

Bryce sounded pretty pathetic, “Well, I was shut down. I had only the money in my pockets. It was a few thousand credits, but I could spend that at a single meal up in the towers, so I moved lower and lower. I was only about two and a half to three weeks into my search and I was nowhere near finding you two. I was very lucky that I had just taken cash out, for bribes and such. After a while, I realized I was getting nowhere, and started cutting back on non-essentials too. Mostly things like grooming and lodging. I knew I was on the outs, so I couldn’t go back to the Citadel, so I kept looking for you two. I wandered for about two or three months looking for information on you, my Lady but you were pretty hard to find.

Bryce offered, “I eventually came across some news feeds about the two of you and I knew you two were together. That reminded me of something CEO Chroynos told me, about ‘Find Samson and find my daughter’. I tried to think like the boss here. I figured he would cover tracks on you pretty well. So, I approached the search from the other angle. I tried tracking him. I pulled his image from one of the vids and did an image search. I got lucky and found one for a detective agency public site employee accomplishment bragging list. It was from some report that he filed about half a year back. I hacked the agency’s security and broke into their personnel records.”

Samson had finished the big work and shut down the trimmers to listen.

Bryce kept rambling, “I got the personnel records from the investigator agency, and tracked the pay record to an account in the agency owner’s pay system. Samson, your boss,” Bryce paused to correct himself, “That guy you work for, as an investigator, has all his passwords on a piece of paper under his blotter. I just logged into all his systems. I traced that payroll account and its attached address here. So here I am.”

Persephone leaned forward to see Samson’s right fist white-knuckled around the clippers and left clenched and shaking in time with the other hand.

Samson roared, “Shit!”

It startled both Persephone and Bryce.

His roar was even answered by several neighboring tenants pounding on the soundproof walls telling him to be quiet.

Samson threw the clippers to the floor with such speed and force that they pulled free of the wall plug. The cable whipped around behind the clippers as they crashed into the corner behind the toilet and shattered into pieces.

Through his clenched eyes, Samson could finally and only see his own mistake. He opened and looked at the bottom of his right hand working the tension out of his eyes.

He saw the questioning look from Bryce, “If you thought of it, the people hunting us can and will soon too. We can’t stay here. We need to start moving and keep operating only on cash. No more accounts or electronics, if it has any of our names on it, we need to abandon it. We have been Spartan before but now we need to operate on zero tolerance, zero errors.

“This is my fault.

“I didn’t even think about myself. You were right. I have only been thinking of making Persephone disappear from their searches, but they have seen her with me now in all those vids. Eventually, probably within the next day or so, they will put it all together too, and broaden their search.

“We can rest a little, maybe an hour or two, and salvage gear from here. But we need to leave as soon as possible.”

Persephone took over. She ordered, “Mosquito, get in the shower and clean up. Samson, put those clothes in to wash and then come over here, we need to talk.”

Samson handed a change of workout clothes to Bryce before the bathroom door closed.

As the shower started, Samson carried the dirty clothes at arm’s length to the washer in the kitchen. He counted himself lucky that it had been emptied of dishes earlier that day. It was empty so he opened it, dropped the clothing inside, switched modes from kitchen to clothes, added soap, and started the silent washer.

He washed his hands and arms to clean off the stink left by Bryce’s clothes. He then did a once over with the soapy cloth and towel to make sure he got everything, before returning to bed.

When he was almost there Persephone turned off the light from the switch above the nightstand shelf. The apartment returned to darkness for the last few hours of rest.

Chapter 64)

Samson’s eyes opened. His head rolled to the right on his pillow, 0559 changed to 0600, and his alarm went off. He pressed the button, killing the noise almost before it started. Persephone fussed and stretched against him as his hand trailed up the wall to the wall switch. Still in the dark, he followed the seam in the cheap wall to the notch and over to his switch. He turned on the light.

Bryce was already sitting up when the light came on, rubbing his eyes and pushing his hands through his ratty, uneven, unfinished haircut.

Samson apologized, “We need to fix that today, Bryce. You look like hell. Sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking right.”

Bryce accepted, “No worries boss, it’s just hair. It grows back.”

Persephone rolled face down stretched her full length and pushed Samson out of her warm bed with her back. She choked off a giggle as she took her half from the middle. Placing his feet on top of his shower shoes, to stay off the cold floor, Samson gave her a warning tickle-poke, before pulling his own clothing on for the morning.

Samson offered, “I am thinking we need to get the day started. Then we need to figure out how to get out of here with enough gear and changes of clothing so that we don’t look like we are moving but can still live on the move for a while.” Slipping his feet into the open shoes he moved over to allow Persephone to sit up while pulling her workout clothing from the hutch at the foot of the bed.

When Persephone sat up, Bryce blurted, “My Lady! You don’t have anything on!” The comment pulled Samson’s gaze from her to Bryce.

Persephone calmly said, “Then look the other way, Mosquito.”

Handing her clothing hanger to Persephone, Samson’s free right hand traversed to grasp the side of Bryce’s neck. His thumb sank into the jugular, pinching blood flow and his fingers pinched the spinal column and twisted the younger man’s head away and toward the bathroom door. White knuckle grasp not releasing, “Captain Bryce Mountain-Eagle-Roost, Guardsman Third Class, I told you twice last night, and you still don’t get it. The next time you gawk at Persephone Apollonia Chroynos I will rip every bone out of your worthless body, one by one, with my bare hands. Is that perfectly clear, Captain?”

Bryce surrendered, “Crystal clear Colonel Rockpoint,” he strained through mounting pain, fading vision, and the skeletal contortion he was forced into, dropping his face and eyes to the far wall and floor.

Samson demanded, “And if it happens again, Guardsman Mountain?”

Bryce conceded, “It won’t, Sir! If it does by accident I won’t gawk, or you will rip my bones out.”

Not satisfied but slightly less furious, Samson pushed Bryce’s head down and away after releasing him. Persephone’s soft hand down his back snapped his attention back to her. She was dressed and presented Samson with a ‘thank you’ kiss before moving behind him into the open floor. Once Persephone was on the floor, she laid out her towel, to begin her morning workout.

The three worked through individual flexibility and strength training while discussing movement and planning options for the next few days. Samson planned out loud for the others to hear, “We are going to need to travel light, but we can probably station ourselves for a time. We could use you, Bryce, to prepare areas and as our advanced team. With you moving around ahead of us and keeping a low profile we can move behind you and occupy lodging and use stores you preposition for us.”

Bryce asked, “Yes, Sir. But how do you think I will help tactically?”

Persephone corrected, “I think having you finding and watching all of our ways out is your best place to be, Mosquito.”

Bryce accepted, “As you wish, my Lady, but I know I can help more on-site.”

Samson grumbled, “I don’t think either of us said anything about you ‘not’ helping on-site. We just need to make sure you are out of the public eye as long as possible.

“That was my mistake. How you found me, remember?

“When we pick up the crews you can be our invisible trail security and deal with any unwanted guests we pick up.”

Persephone suggested, “You can also get us decent places to stay without us drawing too much attention.” Persephone’s vid star impersonation and haughty hand gesture to her face were followed closely by, “And when people see this stunning profile, we just know they will charge us extra.”

Samson sat up from his abdominal ‘plank’ workout and looked at Persephone to his left, “And was that your ‘royal we’, or do the two of us get included in that extra charge for lodging?”

Persephone sat straighter. She was almost straight enough that her nose was so high in the air she could touch the ceiling from her cross-legged seat on the floor. The princes continued to expound, “It was a ‘royal we’ of course, you know I’m the only one who matters and you two can sleep anywhere.” Sweeping her hand in the direction of the two men, “The floor is a perfectly acceptable place for you two…”

She was interrupted mid-rant when Samson’s mock questioning look returned from Bryce to her as she finished, and he flipped her back and over with his left hand under her knee.

As Persephone laughed from the floor, Samson stood shaking his head, “Come on, Bryce, you lazy bonehead. We need to work on your hand-to-hand. After all these years you still suck at it.”

Bending to retrieve and fold his towel, Bryce griped “I don’t ‘suck at it’, it was just not my best subject at the Academy…”

Persephone had rolled to her front and gotten her giggle fits under control. She cupped her face in both hands from a prone position on the floor. She happily wagged her feet behind her and concocted her best angelic smile, “Really, Mosquito? Do you actually have a best subject? Pray, do tell me what that is please, I have yet to see it.”

After just under a year in her service Bryce was accustomed to her sprightly if sometimes cutting sense of humor. As a result, she could only elicit a modest mock scowl, “Yes, my Lady. If you must know, I do have a best subject. However, close combat is not it.”

Her feet still gliding left to right Persephone cheered, “Really?” She smiled until her face hurt, “Because the way I heard it, my Daddy beat your bottom. Then he tossed you out of his office like a dirty, mangy, puppy that no one wants.”

Bryce mumbled dejectedly, “He didn’t toss me like a puppy, my Lady.” Unfortunately for Bryce’s cause, he was starting to sound like a tossed puppy.

Samson shared, “Persephone, Captain Mountain graduated in the bottom third of his class in both Hand to Hand, and the Sword. What we found out was that, among his few redeeming qualities, he was top of his class in both the pistol and long shoot. His combined scores in those classes made up for his other failings and allowed him to still graduate his final year.”

Genuinely impressed Persephone dropped her hands and a mocking smile, “Really, ‘Mosquito’? You’re a sniper?”

Bryce agreed, “Yes, my Lady. That is why Guardsman Rasmussen was always in the lead and I trailed in the rear when we moved. I can clear a room with my pistol and not hit him while he is dealing with the first threat.”

Persephone speculated, “Really? I did notice you two always moved in tandem like that, but I never thought to ask why. I’m sorry, an omission on my part. If you impress me a few more times, I might have to use your real name ‘Mosquito’.”

Samson’s exasperated sigh set her to giggling again, “Alright you, off the floor, Persephone, before I step on you. We need to work on his hand-to-hand. If you’re not out of the way before we start, I’ll toss you out of the way.”

Persephone remembered, “Oh! Speaking of tossing!” Persephone snapped her feet under her, from a push-up position. She then shot upright from her initial prone position. “I completely forgot! I have a letter to give you, Samson.” She pointed to her travel bag at the top of her hutch, “‘Mosquito’ could you please get my travel bag from on top of the hutch? Stumpy-Samson needs a chair to reach it. And I don’t like embarrassing him like that in front of company.”

Samson stood at his full height. He looked down several inches into Persephone’s eyes, in disdain for the short joke, affronting his average height.

She grinned in mirth.

He grabbed her hands, bent at the knees, and tackled her, laughing, over his right shoulder.

Looking back to Bryce, Samson pointed to the bag with his left hand and walked around the back of the couch and in front of the indicated hutch. Once past he dumped the laughing woman onto the bed’s mattress. When she came to a halt and settled down, he sat next to her.

Finally calm, now but still smiling, her hair a scattered mess over the whole bed, Persephone received her bag from Bryce. She opened a side pouch and pulled the letter from her father out of it. She closed the pouch and handed the bag back to Bryce. As she handed the letter to Samson she said, “Thank you, ‘Mosquito’.”

Samson flipped the letter in puzzlement several times while Bryce replied, “You’re welcome my Lady,” as he replaced the bag and sat on the back of the couch, facing the two.

Samson asked, “Persephone, how long have you had this? Your father addressed it to ‘Samson Rockpoint’.”

Persephone shrugged innocently, “I don’t know. Daddy slipped it into the travel bag sometime after he and Thomys started assembling it. I never touched or looked at the bag during the weeks that they were filling it. I didn’t want the ‘Fly’ and ‘Mosquito’ to know it was being packed.” Bryce rolled his eyes, with a frustrated exhale. Persephone smiled, “I found it the afternoon I left and was so worried about getting out, I forgot about it when I got here. And I never thought about it again until just now.”

Irritated, Samson popped the Imperial seal off the back and pulled out the handwritten letter. Samson grumbled, “That was five months ago Persephone,” before he read the letter twice, shaking his head both times. “Persephone! Do you know what this says?!”

Persephone teased, “No, you big goof. It was sealed, remember?” Her sarcasm did nothing to soothe his growing irritation.

Samson insisted, “Persephone! This letter says ‘Samson Rockpoint, the effective date of your initial sentencing to the condemned name of ‘John Smith’ and the associated revocation of rank and status. You are redeemed to all former rank and standing. This must remain secret as you will need to protect Persephone where all other measures have failed. Your fall was a result of a calculated move against Persephone and your sentence was a result of your continued loyalty, protection and I dare say love for her. Assets will find their way to you, outside normal channels. You are to command them as you see fit. Effective immediately your rank is elevated to High-Commander. Your mission is to protect Persephone at all costs; additionally, you will hunt down and destroy the traitorous enemy elements, support structures, and coordinating leadership that is attacking her. Your verdict is final, and no law of the Empire will constrain you. Find and destroy the enemy’.”

Bryce mused, “God’s below! That old man is a ruthless bastard”. Two sets of eyes tracked the younger Guardsman. “Sorry, Sir. Sorry, my Lady. I know he is your father and all, but he must have known about everything. He was planning on kicking me out before all that crap in the Citadel happened.”

Samson sighed, “No Bryce, reason it through. The assassination was only a catalyst that forced him to move and start Persephone into motion. He was planning on sending Persephone but not so quickly. He had to scramble after the assassination attempt in the Citadel. He wanted to send you and William with her or ‘after us’ so you two could catch up much sooner. But William got chewed up in the attempt on Persephone. So, while William is offline, Lord Chroynos has to make do. He took the risk that you would find us, alone. He couldn’t foresee the attempted assassination, but it did tell him that things were closing around all three of you faster than he could chance.”

Bryce speculated, “So, he chewed me up one side and down the other in front of our peers, pulled me alone into his soundproofed office, told me to find you, and then kicked my butt just for the fun of it? I can’t believe that, Sir.”

Samson sighed. It was not in disappointment at Bryce, but at what he had to tell him. “Bryce, CEO Chroynos kicked your butt because you are a terrible actor and more importantly, he believes he can’t trust his own guard squad.”

Bryce objected, “What! How could you say such a thing, Sir!”

Shaking his head in irritation at the lack of introspection, Samson corrected, “Bryce.

“Think about it.

“At some high level security is contaminated. That trickles down.

“Even though our brothers on the Imperial detail are still our brothers, they are suspect because they could be exposed to that corruption and may not even realize it.

“They don’t even need to be truly corrupted to force the CEO to discount their loyalty. Since he knows that someone is corrupt, he can’t take the chance that one of them is corrupt.

“As a result, he must watch all of them. He has to go so far as to watch what he says because he can’t tell them that they need to watch what they say because he doesn’t know who they may warn about his suspicions.

“If they act out of loyalty and warn the wrong person that Lord Chroynos is suspicious by accident, even if it is for the right reasons, all this caution is wasted, because the bad guy will find out eventually. The attacker forces him to watch his own guard in addition to looking for whoever else the attackers are sending. It complicates his battlefield decisions.”

Bryce started to get it and quailed, “Bloody Hell, Sir! How are we supposed to deal with that! We can’t trust anyone if what you say is true. And CEO Chroynos! He’s a dead man if his guard is compromised!”

Samson saw Persephone’s hand shaking as she wiped imaginary dust from her eye and tried to stamp out the tear that was forming. He could only sigh, “No. Lady Celine and CEO Chroynos could be killed today, and their official holdings would pass, in full, to their next living heir, or heiress. Since she is currently viable but unaccounted for from the attacker’s perspective it falls into probate and the attacker can’t kill her until it is claimed, or by law it would go to public auction. No, as long as Persephone is alive, whoever is doing this would have a difficult time effecting, no not effecting, controlling is a better word, whatever outcome they are seeking.”

Samson’s hand slipped behind him and found Persephone’s, “It is much easier to eliminate the heiress and move in the chaos that ensues to secure whatever their objective is, presumably a hostile takeover, which is why a probate auction would be such a mess. They would be forced to publicly bid against everyone else interested in control of the Chroynos Stellar Hegemony and its corporate holdings, which by the way includes all three military corporations that secure the empire’s space and planets. Persephone is a wild card at this point. Lord and Lady Chroynos are relatively predictable and static, therefore they are easier for the attacker to anticipate and control. CEO Chroynos beat on you to show his guard that he was fully capable of taking any one of them, and probably two or more, at the same time. The old man killed two birds with one stone. First, he secured his own position by proving to any potentially corrupt Guardsmen on his detail that they would need to work and work hard, to drag him down. It makes things even more difficult because the ‘loyal’ members of the guard would be on top of an attacker in no time. And he knows that the story would be echoing from the walls of the Citadel within the hour. So, whoever the traitor is would know too, and need to plan on that strength. Second, he also made your fall look credible. You can’t break from your normal dower expression unless you truly have had something bad happen to you. He had to beat you senselessly and follow it by tossing you. That only added punctuation to his point. But a very important punctuation.”

Her deep shuddering sigh drew both men’s eyes, while she forced a smile, “Congratulations on the promotion, Baby.”

Samson felt his heart breaking as he leaned back to kiss her, having just discussed her life and death verdicts as if she were a piece of cheap meat in the food market. “Thank you, Love.”

She stroked his hair while he was close, “High Commander … Sub Colonel to High Commander is a nice jump, right over Colonel in fact. You are now a General Officer equivalent.”

Samson agreed, “That’s right, Beautiful. It’s a Military VP rank equivalent. ‘Junior probationary private investigator’ on private security contract with some ‘mystery client’, to Military VP in a single day, well less actually, the stroke of a pen really.”

Bryce baffled, “Wait a minute, ‘High Commander’?” Bryce asked stupidly, “We haven’t had a High Commander in the Guard since, well … since I don’t know since when. Not while I’ve ever served. Thanatos Chroynos is handling most of the Guard Commander tasks, and he’s just a VP, not a Guardsman.”

Irritated, Samson corrected, “Seriously!? Are you bloody serious, Bryce? Where the hell has your head been? I wish I could have been there to kick you in the head a few times too, as stupid as that question is. You really don’t know who the High Commander is?!”

Bryce retorted, “Well, no, Sir! We haven’t had one in forever.”

Annoyed, Samson snapped, “You are so dumb! Two High Commanders ago went missing and he was declared Killed In Action twelve years before the last Genesis War’s ‘Celestas League’ campaigns. That was when Lady Katharina Chroynos and her family were killed in that bombardment, all that happened eighteen-plus years ago.”

Persephone interrupted, “It has been almost twenty-three years now.”

Samson nodded and continued, “The Guard has to have a leader that is in communication or the next highest-ranking Guardsman moves up temporarily until communications are reestablished. That successor led the mission to locate survivors. Once the attack was confirmed as catastrophic, the rank stuck. Since then we have only had one!”

Bryce demanded, “So, who the hell is that, Sir?!”

Frustrated, Samson snapped, “Bryce, I can’t believe you survived as dumb as you are! He is semi-retired from the Guard but never transitioned out of the rank. We don’t bother calling him High Commander because the title is irrelevant to him in his current position. The last High Commander is Phyllip Chroynos! He has been and still is High Commander of the Guard for over two decades. The same guy who beat you senselessly and tossed your worthless hide out his door is the High Commander!”

She smiled through her tears, “Daddy has a big pen,” she finished with a laugh.

Samson coughed a laugh from his irritation. He reached behind her ear with his right hand, lightly grabbed her hair, bit her neck, softly shook her side to side, and kissed her lips. She was left smiling up at him, while he stroked her temple, with his thumb. Samson’s kick into Bryce’s face was perfectly blocked by both of Bryce’s forearms.

Persephone laughed at the silly boys and pushed Samson away so she could safely curl comfortably in the warm bed sheets, while she watched them roughhouse.

Both men were on their feet in front of the couch. Persephone slipped under the warm blankets again and folded the pillow so she could watch the two from her side.

Samson ordered, “Bryce when we finish here,” Samson’s palms came up into a middle guard posture, “I want you to strip both our pistol sets, review and maintain our equipment, deficiency list and all, and I want you to field repair and cross-level everything you can.” Samson stepped forward into the gap between the two, “And while you are doing that Persephone and I will start breaking out supplies for sustenance and clothing. My shirts are about your size, but a little broader. You can tuck them in and be fine. You are shit out of luck with pants though.”

Bryce slipped one foot forward and followed with a punch to Samson’s face. Both of Samson’s hands rose to deflect the punch. They rode around, fell low, in a full circle crashing back into the attacker’s chest, lifting and shoving Bryce back into the apartment wall.

Bryce thumped into the wall and retaliated with a flurry of elbows and short kicks. Persephone watched intently as the gladiatorial exhibition proceeded.

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 Blood Debts book page…

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

Enjoy!