DEADLY GAMES (PAPERBACK)

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DEADLY GAMES
Chapter 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt like all the riches in the galaxy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tearing her gaze from his handsome face, she stared at the screens that still told her nothing.

“Why did you call me to the bridge?”

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

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

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

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

“If you were alone, what would you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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