Trade Circle: The New Dawn: Book 3

By Valerie J Mikles

What would you trade to save a life?

Tray Matthews has his hands full dealing with the refugee passengers on his stranded spaceship, and being separated from his son. But then his brother Danny contracts a mysterious and deadly illness. Tray has never felt more helpless. He can’t get his ship off the ground without Danny.

There’s no time for caution.

With his brother’s life on the line, Tray needs medicine, and he will trade anything. Almost anything. Things go from bad to worse when Tray’s new trading partners realize one of his passengers is a bandit they’ve been hunting for decades.

He needs the medicine...

... but they’ll take her life.

Can he keep his passenger safe and close the deal before his brother dies?

You will love this sci-fi adventure, because every life is worth saving.

Pick up this page-turner today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valerie J Mikles
• Release date: Jan 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370355952

Valerie J Mikles

I'm an aromantic, asexual, agender person who is currently using she/her pronouns. Writing has given me the opportunity to discover and represent so many identities, and in turn find myself. I feel like diverse identities should exist in literature without being a central aspect of the plot. I have created several short films about asexuality, inspired by my own journey to self-discovery. Learn more about my creative side and my writing at http://www.valeriejmikles.comI'm also a PhD astronomer and former black hole hunter. I defected from academia and currently work for NOAA as a Senior Systems Engineer on a polar-orbiting weather satellite. My motto in life is that I can be everything I want, just not all at the same time

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The fresh morning dew glistened in the dappled sunlight that reached the forest floor of Fox Run. Vivid green resurrection fern, revitalized from the previous evening’s downpour, covered the wide-reaching branches of the ancient trees. The constant, fresh rains had prompted an early spring and colorful blossoms dotted the banks of the stream bed bordering the Drava’s nomadic camp. Wild turkeys grazed for insects along the game path, safe for now since the Drava hunters had achieved their weekly quota days ago.

Sky reclined on the upper branch of one of the old trees, watching the turkeys. She didn’t believe the Drava should have let the turkeys go by. Five other nomadic tribes regularly passed through this land. Their hunters weren’t nearly as skilled as the Drava and food was the best currency in the nomadic barter system.

A scream sent the turkeys running and Sky’s eyes turned to the large supply tent at the center of the Drava camp. Scouts had returned just before moonset with a young woman in chains. It was an anomaly. The Drava were egalitarian and did not keep slaves or prisoners. Those they did not want in their camp, they exiled, and those who refused to stay away were killed. In all the months she’d been flitting in and out of their society, she’d never once seen that rule violated. The prisoner hadn’t made a sound all night, and though she was alone in the tent, guards had been posted along all four sides of the structure. The woman’s cry went largely unnoticed by the camp. The guard posted at the entrance peeked inside, but was presumably satisfied that the prisoner did not require any additional attention. Sky disapproved of captivity and was formulating a plan to sneak in and set the woman free.

Three hundred feet away from the screaming woman, Sidney Kassa, son of Marius, crawled out of his private sleeping tent and scanned the forest, smiling when he spotted Sky in the tree. Sky acknowledged him with a wave and leaned back against the trunk, letting one leg dangle teasingly out of his reach. Sky preferred a certain type of man, and Sidney fit the bill; he was a strong, young trade ambassador, a son of the Drava’s Trade Master, and a good lover. He never wore a shirt outside of the Trade Circle, and Sky figured the world was better for it—at least her world was. She was similarly opposed to wearing shirts, though most societies she visited requested her to.

Kneeling by the stream, Sidney splashed water on his face, then he climbed the tree, lithely straddling the branch and facing Sky. Since most humans had retreated into the domes four hundred years ago, the trees of Fox Run were aged and untouched by industrial society. The tree branches were strong enough to build houses in, rather than simply make houses from. The branch Sky and Sidney sat on was thick enough to be a tree in its own right. By comparison, most other forests Sky had seen were filled with mere saplings.

Another sleepless night, Adita? Sidney asked, tilting his face so his eyelashes tickled her cheek. The Drava didn’t kiss with their lips, but Sidney’s other caresses were far more intimate. Sky’s reputation as a thief among the other nomadic tribes had prompted the alias. Although most of the nomads in this region spoke Lanvarian, the dialects had diverged over the years. Acceptable slang phrases used by one tribe might be interpreted as vicious slurs by another, so when Sky had met the Drava, she’d kept quiet until she had a handle on the nuances. Marius had called her Adita because of her golden hair. To the Drava, it was a mesmerizing feature. They were a brown-skinned people with iridescent black hair, so her fair skin was a novelty to them. She had accepted the name, not realizing until later that Marius had wanted to cut off and buy her hair from her. Sidney had saved her. He was more adept at languages than most of the traders and had waded through the various Lanvarian dialects until they’d formed an understanding.

Sky nodded toward the supply tent. The Drava have a prisoner.

Pursing his lips, Sidney scooted forward on the branch, hooking his legs over hers until their bodies were pressed together. It wasn’t a comfortable position, but his creativity in coitus was part of what drew her to him, enticing her to visit the Drava time and again. Sky arched her torso, wrapping her arms around his neck. Were it not for the disquieting presence of the prisoner in the supply tent, whose muffled screams had elevated to shrieks, Sky’s shirt would have been on the ground.

Why do you have a prisoner? she whispered in his ear, the heat of her breath sending shivers of excitement rippling through him.

It’s not human, Sidney murmured breathily, sliding his hands under her shirt and lifting. Not anymore. An Aquian spirit possesses the body now. We have a Seer.

Sky’s breath hitched, goose bumps rising on her skin. She’d never met another Seer. Retracting her hands, she tried to pull free of Sidney’s embrace, but their legs were laced and she was pinned against the trunk of the tree. Seers are myth, Sid. No one can see the future.

Sensing her discomfort, Sidney pulled her into a hug and reclined, lying backward on the branch and pulling her with him. Two days ago, they’d made love on this branch and their height off the ground had been exhilarating. Now, all Sky cared about was whether she could jump to the ground and if she’d make it clear of the camp before Sidney caught up.

Adita, lover, you’re not afraid of the Seer are you? he chided, nuzzling her face. There is no danger. The spirit is trapped in the vessel; we need only harness it. Can you imagine the time it would save—telling our hunters which field the game is running through, or our scavengers which cities are building solar vehicles?

The Drava don’t believe in mysticism, Sky said tightly, unable to get comfortable lying atop Sidney. She had to escape before they figured out what she was.

The Drava also don’t believe that a water planet was devoid of life before humans arrived in this system, Sidney laughed, stroking her hair, determined to comfort her. The oil reserves alone are sufficient evidence for past organic life. And we get hints of the present non-corporeal life, even if our scientists can’t put it into an equation. The Nayak harnessed a Seer spirit, and their numbers have grown two-fold in the last three years. The Chanti traded two of their best hunters just to possess the Seer’s eyes.

They cut out her eyes!? Sky gasped, no longer caring about appearances. Scrambling away from Sidney, she swung off the branch. He caught her wrist as she fell, but only to help lower her safely to the ground. As soon as her feet hit the dirt, Sky took off running, and Sidney chased.

Adita! Adita, be calm, he called, capturing her in his arms, and tackling her sideways into the brush. The twigs and brambles scraped at her skin. Sky cried out, hoping he’d let go, but his embrace tightened and he whispered soothingly in her ear.

The human was dead when the spirit took the shell. The spirit has no need for eyes, he said, then smirked and shook his head. Leave it to the Nayak to prey on Chanti mysticism. They needed the hunters with all those extra mouths to feed.

Sky’s vision blurred with tears. Her spirit was her most closely guarded secret, and this was why—her lover wouldn’t even believe her human! You cannot keep a spirit. If your prisoner dies, her spirit will kill you all!

It wasn’t an idle threat; it was the reason Sky had left her own family. She planned to die alone and take Spirit with her. Sidney wrestled Sky into his lap, combing the leaves from her hair, shushing her. Her knife was sheathed at her calf and a surprise attack might buy her enough time to escape. Sidney was a trader, not a hunter, and a stab wound to the leg would keep him from chasing her without killing him. The scent of his blood would alert the hunters, though, and they’d track her. Don’t raise their suspicions; don’t make them hunt you.

I’ll take you to see her. You’ll see that there is nothing to be afraid of, Sidney assured, hugging her tightly, flexing his chest muscles in a way that normally made her laugh. Sky’s body was rigid, ready to run. She had to remind herself that while danger was near, it was not so imminent that she’d die in the next few minutes. In another hour, Sidney would start his daily tasks, and she could disappear into the forest. She’d done that often enough, leaving the Drava for weeks at a time, never stealing so much that they wouldn’t welcome her back.

Sidney prodded her toward the supply tent, but Sky planted her feet and shook her head. She had no intention of getting near another Seer. One spirit was enough to contend with, and she didn’t know if the other spirit could identify hers.

You have considerable sway with the Supply Manager. She listens to you, Sky said, facing Sidney and lacing their fingers together. He leaned into her touch eagerly.

I don’t need you to stroke my ego, Adita, he growled in her ear. I have other parts I like you to stroke.

Using their joint hands, Sky dragged her knuckles over his pelvis, hoping the temptation would make him compliant. Then ask the Supply Manager to let the Seer keep her eyes.

Sidney’s body tensed and he squeezed her hands. The eyes inhibit the spirit.

Because the human part of her isn’t dead! Sky snapped, ripping her hands free and turning to run.

Sidney hooked his arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground. What do you know of these spirit-vessels? he demanded.

Let go! she screamed, kicking her feet and struggling to get loose.

You’ve seen a Seer before, haven’t you? You know how it can be tamed, he said adamantly.

It can’t be tamed! That psychopath spirit killed my family, she whimpered, bowing her body, trying to reach her knife. The spirit that possessed Sky had killed half her city within a year, including two of her aunts and three cousins before taking her. They had been too selfish, wanting to stay home with their families, trying to live a normal life, but they had been fools and each one had condemned the next. Sky condemned no one but herself.

That is why you wander, Sidney realized, releasing her and running beside her, no longer urging her to stop. He chased her to the forest edge, then grabbed her hand, keeping her from breaking into the open. Jerking and kicking, Sky hissed at him to let her go, but he covered her mouth. The Chanti are hunting in the plain. Adita, you’ll be killed!

Seething, Sky crouched within the forest borders, trying to catch her breath. The Drava hadn’t discovered her secret, but they might. She wondered what would happen to her if they gouged her eyes out. Would she finally be able to sleep at night? Would the visions and dreams Spirit plagued her with fall into order? All Spirit ever showed her was confusion. She experienced pain and fear every time she closed her eyes. If the Drava took her eyes, would all that was ‘Sky’ be gone so that only ‘Spirit’ remained?

Feeling Sidney’s arms around her, Sky collapsed against him, trembling. Maybe the reason Spirit was so cruel was because it wanted to drive her out of her own body. The light she saw let her hold on to herself. Maybe she was the selfish one. If she were truly selfless, she’d have sacrificed herself to kill Spirit long ago.

Don’t take her eyes, she begged, touching her face, imagining her blue eyes strung up on a line and displayed in the Trade Circle for all the tribes to bid on.

I’ll ask, Sidney promised. For you, Adita, I will ask.

1

TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS LATER…

The clouds parted and the wind gusted, knocking Laos Kassa to the ground. A thundercloud raged overhead sounding like a herd of wild buffalo stampeding toward her. Her hunting bow snapped, and she left it on the ground as she scrambled to her feet, dashing for the shelter of the forest. The soft mud of the dry lake suctioned her feet, and she fell again. The stampede took on solid form—a meteor falling from the sky, blasting fire and wind in every direction. The tree branches rattled and the mud sprayed outward.

Crawling on hands and knees, Laos scraped through the mud, leveraging herself on rocks, roots, and anything solid within grasp. The meteor would pass her by, but the impact could level the forest.

As it got closer, the shadow took the shape of a ship, and it slowed down, hovering over the dried up lake bed. The lake bed was the only opening in the forest large enough to accommodate the ship, and Laos was stuck in the middle of it.

Her breath quickening, she rolled through the mud, distributing her weight across the surface so that her body wouldn’t sink. She wasn’t fast enough. The airship had deployed four legs for landing. If the ship descended vertically, she’d fall between them, but that wouldn’t matter if the ship sank into the mud. Heat and fire blasted downward as the ship slowed its descent, then the entire vessel rocked side to side like a leaf on the wind. There was no telling where the landing feet would fall.

Screaming in fear and frustration, Laos tried to run again, and sank up to her knees in the mud. Her knee joint twisted and popped, and Laos closed her eyes. She needed to keep calm if she was going to get free. The heat from the vessel’s exhaust burned her skin.

Give me your hand!

Laos’s eyes shot open. Brishen, her best friend since childhood, lay prone on the mud, reaching out both hands.

"Volk! she swore, twisting her body so that she could reach him without bending her knees backward. What are you doing here?"

Rescuing you. Now shut up and give me your hands, he said, inching toward her. He’d always been a short and scrawny kid, but six years ago, he’d hit a growth spurt and now he was the tallest man of all the Drava. His fingers barely brushed hers.

With the mud up to her knees, Laos’s only option was to lie backward and place her hands over her head. That gave them the inches and leverage they needed. Brishen grabbed her by the elbows and pulled. She screamed in pain as the mud sucked the shoe right off her foot. The airship cleared the treetops, its downward trajectory steadying, ready to stamp her out of existence. As soon as Brishen was back on rocky ground, he hefted Laos over his shoulder and ran for the trees.

Are they warriors? he asked, holding her tightly, not looking back. She bounced on his shoulders with every footfall.

Laos craned her neck, levering her body against his to get a view. Her heart raced and her skin was covered with goose bumps. Can’t tell. It looks like they’ve been through a battle. No obvious cannons.

I’ll stop running then, he said, huffing and slowing to a walk. The wings of the airship brushed the trees at the forest edge, shaking loose branches from the canopy and snapping some of the smaller trees. Brishen picked up pace again.

You’re supposed to be on the eastern ridge, Laos panted, trying to sound reproving despite the fact that he had just saved her life.

I wanted to talk, Brishen said, his almond eyes twinkling. She was suddenly keenly aware of the way his hand was hooked over her thigh. She squirmed, but failed to look unaffected, and fortunately her old friend took pity. His mischievous look faded, and his expression flashed between concern and vulnerable uncertainty. He propped her against a tree and checked her injured leg.

We can talk this evening, she said curtly, peering over his shoulder and studying the ship. Her knee would ache for a few hours, but nothing was broken so far as she could tell.

The ground shook as the great ship touched down. The gust of air kicked up dust, leaves, and twigs, and Brishen threw his body protectively over hers. Laos squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face to his neck, holding on until the dust settled.

By evening, all anyone will be talking about is that, he said, pointing to the ship. The rockets had stopped spitting fire and heat, but the landing gear had not sunk into the mud at all. The vessel was perfectly balanced. He considered the ship breathlessly, awe and curiosity warring with whatever had prompted his visit. His expression went blank as he shelved his emotions and dutifully skimmed the mud off of her legs. Using water from his canteen, he cleaned the cuts on her foot where the shoe had been ripped free. I should get you to the medical tent.

I’m not going anywhere, she said flatly. As a Chief Scout, her default assignment was to watch this new intruder to their territory. She was here first and with an injured foot, it was easier to stay than to walk back to camp. I need you to circle the lake bed and see if there are any windows, doors, or weapons on the other side of the vessel.

I will, but I have a question.

Not now, Scout. We have intruders on the land, Laos hissed, gesturing toward the ship. The motion knocked her off balance and she hobbled a few steps before tripping over him.

If you’d stop talking and listen, I could have asked my question and this conversation would already be over, he laughed, catching her by the waist to keep her from falling.

Laos chuckled at her own clumsiness, and leaned on him like she was about to wrestle him to the ground. A lot of their conversations would have been shorter if she listened before she fought him. Brishen was patient with her and she was glad he was here. She preferred observing other tribes at a distance and he was less afraid to get close to them.

Fine, talk, she said, smiling at him and tweaking his nose.

Marry me, he said simply.

Laos rolled her eyes. Every time you think you want kids, you ask me first.

You’re always first in my mind, he said, ducking his eyes and swallowing. Whenever this topic came up, there always seemed to be a lot he wasn’t saying, and Laos figured he was valiantly reining in a gush of desperate pleas.

My answer is still no. I don’t want to push a squirmy larval human from my body ever again, Laos said, her excuse practiced, however unconvincing. Now check the perimeter, please.

The first few times he’d asked, she’d rejected him with emotional, heartfelt apologies. He’d pout for a bit, but in a few hours, they’d be back to laughing and carrying on like normal.

I’m not asking for children. I want a primary, he explained, gathering fallen branches and constructing a hiding place for her. He kept his attention on the task, but his cheeks were getting redder by the second.

Laos froze, the blood draining from her face. No. Brishen, we’re friends. We’re not—we’re friends.

We’ll never be more? he asked, pausing and looking fervently at the tree branches in his hand.

Isn’t that enough? Laos stuttered. The look of anger clouding his face said no. Abandoning the blind, he stalked away from her.

Brishen!

Question asked and answered. I’ll scout the perimeter, he said hoarsely.

Wait! she cried, launching after him, knocking over the branches he’d set up. She landed hard on one knee, her chin slamming against his thigh. The burst of pain from the fall took her breath away, and she bit her tongue to keep from crying out.

You’ve rejected me. You can’t turn around and cry on my shoulder, he said quietly, staring up at the canopy.

No, I haven’t. Wait, she begged. She knew it wasn’t fair, but he’d caught her off guard. You can’t just spring something like that on me. I need time to process.

Brishen sighed irritably, looking at everything but her. How much time?

Laos didn’t have an answer. Her knee was throbbing, and her head spinning.

If you’re not feeling this—

I’ve never considered taking a primary. Please! She squeezed his hand, struggling to regain her balance and take her weight off of him. Her injured leg would not permit her the dignity. He finally took pity on her, and gave her a hand so she could properly sit. Then he started reconstructing the blind.

In my head, I imagined you jumping enthusiastically into my arms, making love to me on the forest floor, he confessed, avoiding eye contact.

Maybe getting flattened by an invading airship in the process, she commented, tickling his calf when he stepped within reach.

Chuckling, he hopped back and checked to make sure she had enough camouflage to conceal herself. I know we’ll never have children, he said, backing away. I only want you.

Laos was glad the branches and leaves hid her face from him. He looked longingly, like he was waiting for her to break out of the blind again and leap into his arms. Suddenly, he turned on his heels. Take your time, he said. Think. I have ground to cover.

Cringing from the sting of his bitterness, Laos sucked in her cheeks and massaged her injured knee. Brishen had asked her for children before, but to be a primary meant the tribe would view them as a single unit. It was the purest form of coupling in Drava society.

The airship gasped and groaned, and the back hatch opened. The gust of air destroyed her blind and she was exposed. Despite her fear of strangers, she found herself staring dumbly at the open vessel, wondering if these strangers could offer her a better life. Using the tree as a crutch, she pulled herself to her feet.

There was a flash of light, and suddenly Brishen charged toward her, lifting her off the ground, and pulling her into the cover of the forest canopy. He covered her mouth, but she wasn’t stupid enough to cry out. She could feel his heart racing. Not letting go of her, he sank behind the ferns and they watched for further signs of movement from the airship. His body twitched at every sound, tense and ready to run.

I thought you had ground to cover, she said, yanking his hand away from her mouth. Can you see inside?

Not from this angle, he said, hopping onto a low branch so he could get a better view. Where’s your Occ?

Laos rubbed her brow, feeling the raw skin where her Ocular enhancing device usually attached. I broke it, she mumbled.

Again? he laughed, holding out his hand. The internal resets on the Occ were normally voice activated, but could be done with a small tool, and it was easier to see how if one was already wearing a working Occ.

And I dropped it in the mud, she said, pointing to the lake bed with the airship.

I’m going around to get a better view of the inside, he said, alighting to higher branches.

Laos started to follow, but as soon as she put pressure on her knee, she knew it was best to stay on the ground. Take pictures! she whispered.

2

The smell of fresh bunna permeated the halls of Oriana , rousing Captain Danny Matthews from a fitful sleep. Lifting his head, he felt a pinch in his neck and aches spreading down his lower back. Falling asleep under the air vent in the engine room wasn’t as comfortable at full gravity. Oriana had left Rocan three days ago, but they hadn’t gone far. The ship was designed to blast through the atmosphere, not flit about in it. If they went top speed, they’d fly past Quin without ever picking up a signal. Danny had a few ideas how to adapt the ship for slow lateral movements, and he’d wanted to try some of them before breakfast, but a stream of unexpected catnaps had left him no closer to a solution than he’d been last night.

The aromatic, dark-roasted bunna called to him. Danny’s brother, Tray, didn’t drink bunna, and so when Tray made it, it was effectively a summons to the galley. Kissing the purple, wool coat he was using as a pillow, Danny lifted a prayer for the soul of its former owner before heading out of the engine room. Corey had been more than a member of his crew and more than his friend. He had no word for her but ‘beloved.’ That was the word Tray had used in the eulogy when they’d buried Corey by the lakes three days ago, shortly after they’d left Rocan, when they’d barely passed out of the arctic climate. The dirt had been cold and wet; Danny could still feel it under his fingernails. He couldn’t bear to leave her, but when he’d tried to dig her up again, the others had tranquilized him and dragged him back onto the ship. Leaving Corey behind, they’d crossed the lake land where they’d stocked up on fresh water, then went over another mountain ridge and followed it south. Sky claimed the mountain ridge fell into the ocean eventually, and they could follow the coast back home. They had covered more