Shades of Dark by Linnea Sinclair Read Free Book Online Page A

strong. But strong enough to withstand the truth?
    “I always like good news,” I told Marsh as I slid into the seat at the auxiliary command screen.
    “Hope the guy on Narfial has some,” Marsh said. “Dorsie got a transmit from my mother right before we left Dock Five. Food shortages hit home again. She said if it wasn’t for the support Dorsie and I send her, she’d be hurting worse.”
    Marsh and Dorsie were rim-worlders out of Umoran in Calth—not far, relatively speaking, from Ferrin Starport in Baris. In the past five years, the agri-regions of the planet had their massive citrus groves wracked by droughts and then infected by a series of virulent cankers. The canker spread to the soil, killing off attempts to grow alternate crops. Requests for additional funding and assistance were voted down by Tage’s Legalist politicians because, it was rumored, Umoran’s independent agricultural collectives were well known to be anti-Legalist.
    For very personal reasons, Marsh didn’t want Tage or Burke in control of the Empire.
    “Sully feels this is the best lead we’ve had so far,” I told him.
    Marsh nodded. “My family’s always been grovers, you know? That’s where Dorsie gets her love of cooking. So it’s not like they can go north and work the mines. Some of their friends have, but with so many farms being closed, the mines aren’t hiring as many unskilled. We have no choice but to stay with the farms, hope they start producing again.”
    “How’s your nephew? Did he make the team?” Last I’d heard from Dorsie, Marsh’s nephew had a chance at making right-wing on a regional hoverblade team.
    The cloud of worry lifted from Marsh’s dark face. “Rand’s doing great. He got picked up by the Chargers. He’s got a helluva slapshot for a seventeen-year-old.”
    “Don’t tell Sully. He’ll probably start placing bets on him.”
    Marsh snorted out a laugh. “I hear it’s up to almost five million.”
    “It” was the running debt Sully owed Ren from their continual card games.
    “Four million, six hundred and fifty-two thousand. Give or take,” said a voice from the corridor. Boot steps came closer and Sully ducked through the hatchway as I turned in my seat.
    “Not that I’m counting,” he added, grinning. “I may yet make a comeback.”
    That started a bit of off-color banter that left me shaking my head and, more than a few times, groaning out loud as the Karn streaked at specs-plus-ten through the big wide darkness.
    Then an incoming transmit signal pinged at communications.
    Sully leaned over the back of the empty chair at the station. “Ah! Dredosh the bookie never fails me. Could be time to celebrate. Chaz?”
    “The Baris Cup’s far from over,” Marsh warned as I turned.
    Drogue, Sully told me silently. Our cabin. Then out loud: “Come with me.” He faced me, one hand extended, a twinkle in his dark eyes. But tension radiated through our mental link.
    I played the part, even though my heart started thudding in my chest and Thad’s image was the only thing in my mind. “Across hell and back, forever, Mr. Sullivan.”
    I took his hand and he took the opportunity to pull me closer and then slap me on the rump. “Smart ass.”
    “Don’t you be abusing the good captain that way, Sully,” Marsh chided.
    “Mind the store, Ganton,” Sully called back as we stepped into the corridor.

    Drogue’s image on the deskscreen showed the monk’s usual, placid demeanor. His message was more fretful. I perched on the desktop, propping one boot against the arm of Sully’s chair, and listened.
    “Commander Thaddeus Bergren is scheduled for Rawton. Actually, he was set for transfer yesterday but there were two attacks on human women in Port January this past week. The entire city’s in a near lock-down. The Takas.” Drogue sighed softly, frowning. “It’s just a small group doing this. Most don’t agree with these violent actions, but now there’s talk of removing all Takas from