Saryn of Elisia Read online

  Saryn of Elisia

  The Border Rangers

  starandrea

  Saryn of Elisia

  Prologue

  Part 1: Empath

  Part 2: Teammate

  Part 3: Incursion

  Part 4: Ambassador

  Part 5: Partner

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people or politics is entirely coincidental.

  Cover images from Free-Photos and robertwaghorn on Pixabay. Cover design by *Andrea Kuegel.

  Copyright © 2018 by *Andrea Kuegel

  www.starandrea.com

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Pink Aura Press

  Prologue

  Empaths lied a lot. That was what everyone said, and he didn't have any reason to think it untrue. It seemed reasonable, after all: if empaths were aware of other people's emotions, why wouldn't they want people to be happy?

  It wasn’t until Saryn met an empath who recognized him that he wondered how that was different from anyone else. Of course empaths wanted people to be happy. Everyone wanted people to be happy. That was why they smiled at each other on the street, held doors for each other, and offered words of encouragement or help when things were hard.

  “It doesn’t make you different,” the empath told him. “It just makes you more.”

  Since that was literally the first thing the man said to him, he had little context for the information. While he was staring, the man waved a hand and smiled at him. “Hello,” he said. “I'm Lyris. EPD empath.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Saryn said. It was always an honor to meet one of the planet’s defenders, no matter how unusual the greeting. “Thank you for your service.”

  The second thing the empath told him was, “You need to get out of politics.”

  He recovered more quickly this time and offered a smile instead of a stare. “Many people have said that to me recently.”

  The man who’d introduced himself as Lyris grinned, his smile widening in an expression of sincere amusement. “I can imagine,” he said. “I’m sure no one in politics is popular for long.”

  “Public opinion rises and falls,” Saryn said. “As does its interest.”

  “Its interest in you?” Lyris asked, glancing around before looking back, as though checking to see who might be listening. “Or its interest to you?”

  Saryn considered himself an average judge of threat, and since most people survived most days, he expected that was enough. He wasn’t interested in devoting excessive energy to paranoia or outlandish outcomes on the off chance it served him one time out of a hundred. So when an attractive man accosted him on the street and invited him to share a joke, he smiled in agreement.

  “Both,” he said. The offer he made to everyone was sometimes delivered with intent and sometimes not, but he was interested to see how Lyris would interpret it. “Can I help you?”

  Lyrics didn’t hesitate, which was hardly unique, but the follow-up was unexpected. “Yes,” he said. “I’d like to recruit you.”

  “To what cause?” Saryn asked. He was familiar with those seeking favors both personal and professional, and he found the requests to be informative regardless of the outcome.

  “To the team,” Lyrics said.

  It was a measure of how unexpected it was that Saryn had to ask, “What team?”

  Lyris grinned at him again. “Our team, Saryn. The EPD Border Rangers. We need someone who knows how to negotiate with other governments, and you need people in a position of power to back you up.

  “I’m not joking,” he added, and Saryn wondered what his expression was doing that Lyris felt it necessary to clarify. Not as neutral as it should be, clearly.

  “I’m an empath,” Lyris reminded him. “I’m not reading your mind; I just know you don’t believe me. Think how useful that surprise would be the next time you ask the Alliance for something.”

  That was ambiguous enough that Saryn couldn’t overlook it. “The surprise of an unidentified empath in negotiations, or the surprise of my own realignment?”

  “I’m not unidentified,” Lyris told him. “But otherwise, yes. You provide us with political clout, and we support you with military strength. It’s a mercenary but very practical trade.”

  “Is this a standard recruiting tactic for your team?” Saryn wanted to know. “Locate someone with the ability to help you and offer a trade?”

  “Sure,” Lyris said, surprising him yet again. “Isn’t that the basis for most interaction? We don’t talk to each other for no reason. We talk to each other because we think the conversation will be rewarding.”

  “I wasn’t aware that military life was as cynical as the political sphere,” Saryn said.

  “Really?” Lyris said. “I expected you’d see through either one. It’s only cynical if you don’t expect a benefit to the greater population.”

  “No,” Saryn said. “It’s cynical if you value self-interest above the benefit to the greater population.”

  “Can’t save the world if you don’t save yourself first,” Lyris said. “You wouldn’t trust an appeal to altruism anyway, so I skipped the usual introduction.”

  Saryn tried not to smile, because Lyris was either clever or well-informed. Or an unusually honest empath, but he had few references by which to establish a standard. “Are you attempting to maneuver me into making your argument for you by pre-empting my own?”

  “Not anymore,” Lyris said. “Should have known you'd recognize that one. Try this, then: how do I get on your schedule for lunch?”

  “Do you feel you're not commanding enough of my attention already?” Saryn asked.

  “Not really,” Lyris said, and Saryn supposed he would know. “You're interested, but a passing curiosity isn't enough to make you seriously consider it later. If we had a good time, though, it wouldn't be as easy to forget.”

  Saryn raised his eyebrows. “Is that a euphemism for something specific?” he asked. He found it best to identify ambiguous offers early, especially when dealing with unknowns like empathy and Ranger recruiting.

  “It sounded like it, didn't it.” Lyris looked rueful for the first time, and Saryn thought the expression was sincere. He also thought he had no reason to trust someone who’d likely obtained his schedule for this exact purpose. “I apologize for that; I was trying to show you what my empathy can and can't do. It was more the latter than the former, unfortunately.”

  “That's not a denial,” Saryn observed. Most of the people he knew were easily this glib, and he wasn't that interested in the answer. He cared about Lyris’ original intent or nothing, and if the question of an alliance was second to sharing a meal, then it would be nothing. He had more rewarding challenges.

  “No,” Lyris said. “It wasn't a euphemism; I just want an audience. I know this is a devious way to get one. But if either of us approached the other officially, the government would already be involved.”

  “I assume you mean other members of the government,” Saryn said.

  There was a noticeable pause before Lyris agreed, “Yes, of course,” and Saryn didn't know what that meant.

  He also didn't know whether or not Lyris was flirting with him intentionally. He would eventually conclude that it was deliberate: neither a clumsy accident nor a calculated risk, but rather an attempt at establishing common ground. A shared identity, as it were, in the same way that the empath had tried to call out his own empathy.

  What Lyris hadn't known was that Saryn wasn't hiding. He genuinely didn't recognize that he had empathic ability. He certainly didn't know how to use it, which was why it would be a long time before Saryn wondered about that first meeting.

&nbs
p; He and Lyris went to dinner that night, and he met Jenna the next day.

  Part 1: Empath

  The second time they met, she didn’t recognize him anymore than he recognized her. Saryn was on his way to tour one of the Ranger facilities, at Lyris’ invitation, and she happened to be using her comm outside one of the holding bays for historic spacecraft.

  “Public exhibit entrance is two buildings down on your right,” she said when he caught her eye.

  Saryn paused, considering her. She was dressed professionally but not remarkably, and he didn’t see any affiliated insignia on her clothing. “Should I be looking for the exhibit entrance?” he asked at last. She seemed familiar, though he was sure he’d never been here before.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her comm and doing something to it before looking back at him. “You looked lost, and the buildings aren’t well-marked from this direction.”

  “No,” Saryn agreed, ignoring the buildings. It was apparently his week to be accosted by pretty people with non sequiturs. “I am, and they’re not. I’m looking for the Ranger bay.”

  “Operational or educational?” she said with a smile. She put her comm away, and he thought she must be affiliated after all when she added, “I’d be happy to walk you there.”

  “Operational,” he said. “And I would appreciate that, thank you. Do you work here?”

  “You could say that,” she said. “Visiting the Rangers?”

  “You could say that,” he echoed with a smile. “One of them offered me a tour.”

  “Oh, special,” she said with a laugh. “You must be important!”

  “You’re here,” Saryn countered. “I could make the same assumption about you.”

  “I guess we’re all special to someone,” she said, waving for him to walk beside her as she took them in the direction she’d pointed. “Except for Rangers, who are special to everyone.”

  “Not an exception, then,” Saryn said, “but a constant.”

  “That’s what they tell us,” she said. “Where are you supposed to meet your Ranger escort? Do you have a Ranger escort, or are they pushing you off on one of the pilots?”

  “I expect to be escorted by a Ranger,” Saryn said. “Are they not all pilots themselves?”

  “One of the non-Ranger fighter pilots, I meant. The wings that fly patrols and beat back raiders when the Rangers are busy attending meetings and supporting the Alliance.”

  Saryn raised an eyebrow. “You favor the fighters over the Rangers, then?”

  “I acknowledge the role that everyone plays in keeping our planet safe and free,” she retorted. “The pilots don’t get their share of the glory, given the relative hours worked.”

  He smiled. “I don’t think you find the Rangers special at all,” he told her. “I think you’re the exception I dismissed.”

  “I think you dismissed it for the sake of conversational convenience,” she replied. “You were showing off, which I do hold against you, by the way.”

  “Do you,” Saryn said. “Odd that you would share that with me. Do you expect some sort of reparation?”

  “Do I know you?” she asked, waving a door open and stepping aside to let him through first. “You sound very familiar.”

  “I spend a significant amount of time in front of cameras,” he said, entering a lobby area that was unstaffed and very utilitarian. He thought those were lockers on the far wall. “I expect you’ve heard me speak before.”

  “Really,” she said, coming to stand beside him again. “But not in person, which was my first thought. So you’re famous enough that I’ve heard of you, but not enough that I remember who you are.”

  “Apparently,” he said with a smile. “Though I admit you seem familiar to me as well. Perhaps we have met, and it simply wasn’t…”

  “Memorable?” she suggested, and there was a grin in her voice. When he looked over at her she was scanning the room, but she turned when he did and their eyes met. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s feeling less and less likely.”

  “Excuse me,” a mechanical voice interrupted. “I have no record of your authorization in this area. Please state your intentions.”

  It was a light armor military bot that Saryn recognized as common to ground-based defensive installations. He’d interacted with them before, though never as a primary mode of contact. This one had more than the standard EPD and surface combat logos on it: the sunburst emblem of the Rangers stretched across its torso.

  His guide jerked her thumb in his direction. “He’s here for a tour,” she told the bot. “One of the Rangers is supposed to meet him here.”

  Saryn wasn’t entirely sure that was true, given that he didn’t know exactly where “here” was. But he nodded when the bot turned its head toward him. “We’re here by invitation,” he said, which was technically correct. He had been invited, and she was here.

  “Well,” the bot said. “So far you fail the answering questions test, but I suppose your explanation is tangentially relevant. Which of the Rangers shall I chide for not updating the schedule?”

  “I was invited by Lyris,” Saryn said. “Have you considered the possibility that your questions are ambiguous and may not prompt the response you’re looking for?”

  “Yes,” the bot said. “Of course I have; I consider everything.”

  Then, without any other external indication Saryn could see, the bot added, “Lyris, please attend to your guests at the Operational south entrance.”

  “Guests?” Lyris’ voice repeated, and a flicker of power outlined the bot’s primary offensive systems. It was an unsubtle warning before Lyris’ voice continued, “At the — okay, that’s fine. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  The bot’s system lights faded, but its voice sounded stern when it told them, “Something about you is unexpected. Tell me now, or I’ll be accompanying you on your tour.”

  Saryn glanced at the woman beside him. She only shrugged, and the fact that she didn’t smile made him want to. “I’m uncertain what aspect of your report was a surprise,” he told the bot.

  “You’re known for giving the right answers to questions that weren’t asked,” the bot informed him. “I find it more frustrating during direct interaction than it appears on a public screen.”

  “Oh, so you’ve heard him talk too,” the woman next to him said. “Do you do military speeches, or technology rights?”

  “Did you just imply those are the only two things I might be interested in?” the bot interrupted. “I find that offensive.”

  Saryn tipped his head at the bot without taking his eyes off of her. “It holds that against you,” he said. “By the way.”

  She smirked, and he knew she recognized his mimicry of her.

  “I hold it against both of you,” the bot said. “You’re poor examples of human-bot interaction, and I’m ashamed for your respective constituents that you’re considered representative voices in any field.”

  “Constituents?” she repeated.

  At the same time, Saryn said, “Representative?”

  “Hey,” Lyris interrupted, his voice coming from the direction of the lockers as he strode into the room and looked largely unlike he had been running. He was alarmed and wary and he should have been out of breath, but he just smiled calmly and said, “Saryn, I’m glad you could make it.”

  “Thank you,” Saryn said. “I apologize that I seem to have used the back door. That was not my intent.”

  “Which I did ask about,” the bot said. “If you’ll recall.”

  “Saryn?” the woman next to him repeated. “Tell me you’re not Saryn from Sylvan, because I actually hate him.”

  “You don’t know each other?” Lyris asked, looking from one of them to the other.

  “I am from Sylvan,” Saryn told her. “How fortunate that you hate someone who shares my name rather than me.”

  “You’re a smooth-talking independence supporter,” she told him. “Like you have any idea what would happen to this colony if i
t broke away from Eltare.”

  “Oh, it’s my political views you dislike,” he said. “How unusual; I’ve never encountered someone who disagrees with me before.”

  “So who are you?” Lyris wanted to know. He didn’t wait for her to answer before saying to Saryn, “I thought she was with you.”

  “She is,” Saryn said.

  “I’m not,” she said at the same time.

  “Apparently she is not,” Saryn added. “This comes as a surprise to me, given that we walked here together.”

  “I’m Jenna,” she told him. “From New Hope. You tried to sabotage our supply distribution.”

  “Ah, yes,” Saryn said. He remembered the oasis resistance, organized by New Hope and remarkably successful at rallying the agriculturalists against the military. “Jenna. We do know each other, then.”

  “How nice for you,” the bot said. “Were they both invited?” it asked Lyris. “Because there’s a schedule, and neither of their names are on it.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” Lyris said. “No one’s supposed to know he’s here. I wasn’t expecting her, so that one’s not my fault.”

  “Excellent,” the bot said. “Shall I remove her?”

  “No, you shall not,” Jenna said. “I’d like to talk to you about environmental regulation and the appropriate use of resources.”

  Saryn looked at her, and of course she was looking at him. “I preferred our earlier conversation,” he said. “I find it refreshing to be insulted for something more personal than my professional obligations.”

  “You don’t think colony independence is personal?” she retorted. “Because I and everyone I know would be happy to disagree.”

  “I’m happier to agree,” he told her. “Although you seem to hold an alternative opinion of me, I do not enjoy confrontation and discord. I’m in diplomacy for exactly the opposite reason.”

  Jenna frowned at him, and he was disappointed to find her so suddenly suspicious. She hadn’t been impressed by him at first, but she had been tolerant. Even entertained. Now he was just another name to her, and he found little value in that.