His Fire Maiden - Michelle M. Pillow Page 0,1
the freedom to pass by Federation ports unhampered. I cannot leave the life I have chosen. The Federation has granted me the home, which I so longed to be a part of in those years you knew me as a reward for my services. I know it is not the land it once was, but all it is, I give to you.”
Her father looked at his desk and frowned. His grip on her arm loosened, and she pulled her wrist free. She took a slow step back, careful not to make too many sudden movements. Her eyes darted to the thick oak door of her father’s private office. The wood seemed out of place in the metal construct of the military base. Carved patterns bespoke of craftsmanship and time, not portability and ease of assembly. A barren fireplace graced one wall, surrounded by emblems and even a banner with the Craven family crest. Craven had been her mother’s title and name, a title her father had taken when they married, a title that would be passed on to her—the only child of the couple. Her mother had died soon after she was born. All Violette had were the memories and descriptions her father had given her. That title was her gift from her mother. The name, a few holographic images, a notion, and a family crest—that was Violette’s mother’s legacy. How could her father think to give any Craven land to this Josselyn woman?
Violette’s legs trembled, as she was unsure what to make of her father’s expression. His shortly cropped black-gray hair and hard green eyes appeared both menacing and familiar. He wore his white, long tunic uniform, material that gleamed as it reflected the soft orange firelight. A thin brown stripe ran down the sides of his legs and arms, signifying his rank. Her clothing mimicked his in style though the loose pants and tunic were blue and cut with shorter sleeves.
“Who is Josselyn? Why did you call her your daughter?” Her eyes filled with tears. Violette didn’t have siblings. “I don’t understand. Why would you give her your land? I’m your daughter. Me! My mother died after giving birth to me. You said—”
“There are things you cannot understand,” he whispered. “Things you cannot comprehend. The land I spoke of does not belong to you. You will never see it.” Then louder, his eyes clearing as he found her inching away from him in fear, he added, “You must promise me you will not say a word about what you have seen, and promise that you will not interfere in this matter because—”
“Who is she?” Violette demanded, dying to discover the answer. She had never seen his eyes so cold.
“There are things you don’t understand, Violette!” Then, softening his demeanor, as if the gesture took great effort on his part, he continued, “You are my daughter. My blood daughter. As my heir, you will be well taken care of. The land I speak of is not for you. You would not want it. All that you see here is yours, including what is in my safe. Always remember that this base operates on the old code, and you will not be questioned, or stopped from taking what is yours. You will always be provided for. I have seen to it.”
“I remember the old code,” she said softly. “I won’t forget.”
“Good girl.” He gave her a small nod. “That is why this oath is important because I know you will not be able to break your word to me. Someday, a woman named Josselyn might attempt to find me. She’s my history, my personal ghost, and she’s a furious one. You must not get in her way. Whatever she comes to do, you must promise me you will not try to stop her. What will come is what must be, for events were put into motion long before you were born.”
Her father rolled the sleeve of his shiny, pristine uniform and reached for his knife, holding it gingerly in his palm.
“What else did the holo-box say? You didn’t let it finish,” she interrupted what he was doing. She pulled her bleeding arm closer to her stomach. The blood wet her shirt, but she didn’t care.
His eyes moved briefly to where the holo-box sat on his desk next to a stack of ID chips, intergalactic maps, and official travel papers. When he again looked at her, he’d banished the anger from his grave expression. “Promise me that when Josselyn comes, you