Editor: Hannah Ryder Proofreader: Anna Heiar
OF TWO MINDS Copyright © 2022 Lexy Wolfe All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please write to the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by BHC Press Library of Congress Control Number: 2021944175 ISBN: 978-1-64397-274-9 (Hardcover) ISBN: 978-1-64397-275-6 (Softcover) ISBN: 978-1-64397-276-3 (Ebook) For information, write: BHC Press 885 Penniman #5505 Plymouth, MI 48170
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also by lexy wolfe Doom and the Warrior The Emeralis Synth Chronicles
Ravenhawk Bishop to Queen THE SUNDERED LANDS SAGA
The Raging One The Knowing One The Timeless One The Fallen One The Unforeseen One
A NEW DAWN
“
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ow did he get hold of that much vodka?” Clustered together, the members of Razor Wing watched the dock workers unload pallets of crates marked with various distilleries’ names. Their expressions ranged from shock to befuddlement. Save for the eldest among them. The man shook his head as he read the handwritten letter. His eyes glittered with the heartache he repressed, letting his amusement surface. “One day, we will have to repay Viktor for his wisdom.” All eyes turned from the workers’ industry to regard Nikolai Rusakov, the former major for the unit. He folded the letter, tucking it inside his jacket, regarding the pilots and their companions. “Despite his grief losing his pilot, Viktor had the foresight to provide for our future.” He regarded the small mountain of alcohol. “He provided us currency to barter with the Norlander government.” Pyotr frowned in confusion. “I thought people used credits to buy things. Are bottles not too large to carry in pockets?” His confusion did not abate when the young woman standing between him and the fairer Lupin clapped a hand over her mouth, failing to 11
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suppress giggles. Pyotr and Lupin traded perplexed looks over her amusement, both shrugging. “I wish Viktor would have stayed with us,” Svetlana sighed, gazing toward the flat line of the ocean horizon. “He lost his pilot,” Mikhael stated with such a lack of emotion, even a few of his fellow pilots shuddered. “If we forced him to stay among us, it would have kept that wound from closing. Only the deserving enemy should suffer unending pain, not our allies.” His scowl, turned toward their former homeland of Bangladen, reflected the darkest emotions. “Not one of our own.” “Mikhael,” Svetlana began. She startled when he pushed her away with more roughness than typical for him. “Mikhael, none of this was your fault! It was not anyone’s fault but Kozimoy’s!” She watched helplessly as he strode into the nearby forest. “Mikhael!” “It was our fault. We did not listen to Rebeka, or take what she told us seriously,” Lupin stated, his own emotions an echo of the senior pilot’s. “If my analysis of the past several years is correct, all misfortunes that befell Razor Wing were rooted in the incident when the base commander attempted to force himself on her and she refused to submit to him.” His expression hardened. “That includes the fire that stole so many of our companions.” He sighed as Alma looped her arm around his, hugging both Pyotr and him in reassurance. “Krolik, Volkin.” Pyotr and Lupin snapped to attention at Nikolai’s commanding tones. Everyone gave the man their attention as he spoke crisply. “If Skylen does not return by sunset, find him and bring him back. We have lost enough, and losing another pilot, companion, or trainee is handing a victory to the man responsible for our losses.” He thumped his fist over his heart. “I refuse to yield to any enemy, and I will allow none of you to, either. Is that understood?” “Yes, sir!” everyone chorused. Despite the response being reflexive, the emotion was heartfelt. 12
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“Good. I want all of you to remain here. Stand guard over our property while I see if I can find a more suitable shelter than a warehouse for us.” As the pilots and their companions moved away, Nikolai put a hand on Svetlana’s shoulder. “Lana, do not borrow worry.” She looked at him, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “This is the first loss of this magnitude your pilot has suffered. He left because he does not trust himself not to hurt you.” He managed a faint, encouraging smile. “Have faith in him.” “But it is my duty to,” she began. “You are not neglecting your duty or him by letting him alone right now. What he needs most is time to face Rebeka’s loss.” He sighed, looking in the direction the eldest pilot had left. “He took responsibility for Konstanine since they assigned her to Razor Wing for a longer time than should have been required because of the difficulties she faced the moment she became a full pilot. No logic in the world will assuage his guilt for not being able to protect her. I feel much the same over this mess.” He met her eyes. “Because his faith in himself is shaken so deeply, he will need ours to find his way back.” Svetlana took a deep breath, then exhaled, closing her eyes as she nodded. “I will try my best, Commander.” “‘Commander?’ All of us are civilians now, Svetlana.” She smiled faintly at his arched eyebrow. “You can take the man out of the military, but you cannot take the military out of the man, Nikolai. It is useful that ‘commander’ is not only a rank, but a definition.” She put her hand over his heart. “You are our commander. They thought the sniper division of the Dagger was ruthless when they took their beloved major from them. For one of our own, our pilots made what Rebeka had done to that terrible gang leader seem mild in comparison. They left a radioactive crater. Imagine if Kozimoy had dared do anything to you.” He almost smiled. “I suppose you have a point.” He gestured her away. “Go on. Keep an eye on our people while I attend to busi13
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ness.” He waited as Svetlana rejoined the rest of the pilots, companions, and their contingent of companion trainees they gathered. A dismal thought occurred to him that after they fled the base before the nuclear bombs exploded, vaporizing the man who had betrayed them…and a significant portion of their counterparts in the other air force wings, all that remained of their branch was themselves. He grimaced as he turned away. “What they are capable of when motivated terrifies me.”
Not pretty by tourism standards, the small port city re-
flected the robust community of its inhabitants. Many Nikolai passed turned a few glances toward him as he walked through, some bearing the hallmarks of wariness and suspicion, but none directed any hostility toward him. He stopped at an intersection and looked around with a faint frown, pulling out the letter he had tucked away earlier. He scanned the document again, trying to determine if he had missed anything. “This is the location Viktor said to find his contact,” he muttered. He raised his eyes to the sound of a feminine throat clearing and blinked at a woman similar in age to himself leaning against a corner tavern. She studied him with a twinkle of amusement in her pale blue eyes, her arms crossed. “Never again will I tease Viktor Chernovich about his ability to get a job done. Even one given in jest.” Nikolai narrowed his eyes as he openly appraised the woman as he would any potential enemy. “And you are?” “A friend of your friend,” she replied with a blithe gesture. She straightened, shrugged her shoulders then took several steps further down the street. “Walk with me. Even a field of corn does not have as many ears as this place.” She waited with amused patience until he relented and fell in step with her. 14
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The pair arrived at a different section of the waterfront. Unlike the industrial docks that stood high above the waterline, the wharf was low, the sound of water slapping the sides of much smaller watercraft and the pylons that supported the deck they walked on. The wind blowing through the pillars produced a low, almost moaning whistling. She leaned on the rail, gazing out over the water; he mimicked her posture. “Go on. Ask.” Their eyes met as she flicked a sideways glance at him. “Our conversation will go nowhere until you settle your mind about me.” Nikolai’s scowl deepened, and he looked out toward the horizon in silence, gritting his teeth. “Your name?” She smiled. “Ingrid Kolstad, recently un-retired senior agent of the Norland Foreign Intelligence Bureau. Your friend nicknamed me Valkyrie.” He blinked, unable to conceal his shock. “You are Viktor’s contact?” Ingrid laughed. “Are you surprised because I am a woman, a foreigner, or old by most young people’s standards?” “Honestly, it is a combination of all three,” he admitted. “He required extensive connections for his operations as a smuggler and his habit of acquiring various goods. I trusted his efforts minimized harm to people, so I never interfered.” His expression grew troubled. “But to liaise with a foreign operative…” “Would you believe our relationship began over candy?” She chuckled at his expression. “Our paths crossed at the same shop. I believe he was a trainee then, given the brute that was escorting him. He dropped some painfully obvious and obtuse one-liners, acting for all the world like the world’s worse pickup artist. What surprised me is how well it worked.” Nikolai narrowed his eyes at her. “You fell for them?” She laughed and shook her head. “Good gracious, no! But his escort got sick of listening and stepped outside and the store clerk 15
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could not get away fast enough to help a different customer on the other side of the store.” Ingrid gave him a chagrined look. “The moment we were alone, he cheerfully told me I should be more careful because no one in authority has any sense of humor in Bangladen and he would hate to see me get tortured.” “He picked you out as a spy?” the man asked in surprise. “While he was a trainee?” “Like a white hair on black slacks,” she confirmed. “Before I could decide what I should do to protect my cover or at least give myself time to get somewhere safe, he put his hand over his heart and promised he would never share my secret. On the condition I bought him a box of some expensive candies that are a specialty of Norland and were way out of his budget for that day’s jaunt. A gift for someone he admired and owed his life to. He assured me he would make it worth my while.” She reached into her pocket and held out a small white box to him. “I imagine they were for you.” He stared at the familiar design, unable to move or think for several minutes. He accepted the offering, still staring at it. “To this day, I have no idea how he learned about these.” He explained, “They had been my grandmother’s favorite vice. Before they sent me away for pilot companion training, she had given me a box.” A sad smile softened his expression for only a moment before he frowned at her. “And how, precisely, did he make it worth your while?” “Not in any way that would risk those he served with, I assure you. An associate of his delivered a bottle of premium Russian vodka to my apartment.” Her eyes crinkled. “The messenger said it was a gift for my daughter. I am uncertain to this day whether Viktor gave him those instructions or his associate imagined a woman my age would never interest a young man.” “Did he consider you a friend?” Ingrid looked confused. “I suppose so? We would meet at one of the coffee shops when he would come into the city. I endured 16
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his inane banter until his escorts became exasperated, and then we would chat about meaningless things. He was absolutely worthless trying to get military intelligence out of, but hell if he couldn’t allude to the places best for me to avoid, as he would put it.” Nikolai tilted his head. “What sorts of places?” “The places where people disappeared from and their bodies would be found in the river.” Her expression was grim. “Part of the reason I had been in Bangladen was because of several of our ambassadorial staff having disappeared. His advice helped me root out the snake in our midst a lot quicker than I would have been able to otherwise. He had a gift for reading people.” A smile warmed her face. “And for annoying them.” Nikolai made a thoughtful sound. “My guess is it was the associate’s assumption. The more I learned of him, the more I discovered Viktor had deep scars, particularly revolving around sex. I do not think he was picky, save favoring women.” He paused until she looked at him. “He does not have it with anyone he considers a friend. Ever.” The woman looked at the horizon, thoughtful. “Intriguing. It is too bad he did not accompany you. I would have enjoyed resuming our chats. Conversations with him were never dull.” She sighed and shifted to face him as she leaned. “So. Shortly before news got out about a nuclear explosion near that troubled city outside your former base, I was recalled into service due to a message delivered from Viktor.” Her expression clouded. “‘You wanted an air force. I got you an air force. You better take care of them.’ The tone was unlike him, but the reference to my joke of a request before they recalled me back to Norland assured me the message came from him.” Nikolai stared at the small box in his hand. “That our salvation lay in my grandmother’s guilty pleasure is difficult to wrap my mind around.” She put her hand by his arm on the rail, drawing his atten-
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tion back to her; he frowned, an oddness about her expression bothering him. “What?” Her pale eyes searched his for a time. “You don’t know, do you?” “Know what?” He took the device she held out with a scowl, scanning the text there. The box of candy slipped from his hand in shock. He took no notice of the woman’s snake-strike reflexes snatching it out of the air before it fell into the water. “The hell did he do?” he rasped. “The entirety of Bangladen…gone?” “What else?” she replied with a sardonic smile. “He got me an army. Or more precisely, a small military.” She turned more serious. “I hope no one else pisses that boy off. I have never seen such a ruthless application of revenge. Though I do not believe sending an entire nation into a civil war that resulted in the neighboring countries bombing the place out of existence were part of his plans.” He handed the device back to her, then leaned on the rail, his hands white-knuckled as he gripped the wood until a piece broke off under his palm. “I never asked him to help destroy our country,” he whispered. “Only the bastard that had one of our own killed.” “He grew up there, but I never got the impression he ever considered it ‘his’ country.” Ingrid laughed, her voice soaked in bitterness. “I have often envied the naiveté of the career military.” She crossed her arms, putting her back to the horizon. “You took the time to rescue a gifted young man from the executioner’s block and earned his undying loyalty. Did you forget the life he lived that landed him a death sentence?” He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “To survive, he committed atrocities to feed the perverted appetites of the wealthy. He lived among those the elites step on. He knew their suffering with an intimacy few could appreciate, but opted to turn his back on them for his own survival. And he saw himself turning into a monster no different from those who caused that suffering. “He fled that poisonous life with the intention of dying to make up for his crimes. Instead, he got a second chance and tried to make 18
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up for the harm he had done by trying to save the lives of those like he had been. The sick, the starving, the helpless. To escape revenge for turning on those who lived as monsters, he chose death by execution. Then you came along, daring to believe in his worth.” Her expression remained grim. “I did not get many letters from him from the time I returned home and the most recent I received, and those he sent never gave away any ‘military secrets.’ But what he told me…” She shook her head. “I can only imagine that he looked at what he had endured, what others had suffered, and did not believe the injustice was limited to only your group of pilots. The number of those suffering the poverty he grew up in was…significant, and that trait is not limited to only Bangladen. Trust me, the civil war would have happened; it was only a matter of time. Just as it will happen in other nations that are similarly foolish. Whatever spurred him to action was merely a catalyst.” “But the lives lost…” he began. “Perhaps focus on the lives he has saved.” Nikolai scowled at her. “What are you talking about?” “During our last ‘date’ before I returned to Norland, I teased him. Asked for an army. Or navy, or whatever sort of military unit was available.” She turned her attention to the device again, tapping it several times, then handing it back to him. “I was not being facetious when I said I would never doubt his skills. Your unit is not the only one who has decided they had enough and refused to be tools for a corrupt system any longer. However he managed it, he reached out to other units in other branches. Told them of the betrayal, explained you led Razor Wing’s revolt against the high command’s treason. For many, that revelation of treason was enough reason for them to turn on those who abused their service and loyalty.” A faint smile touched her lips. “And they have claimed you as their leader as their messages to our ambassadors have stated their intentions to join you in exile. It is not only your pilots we need to prepare accommodations for.” 19
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The man exhaled after paging through several messages, noting the names listed and the signatures under them. “These numbers… there must be more than a thousand coming. I think I understand why he sent so much vodka with us now.” He looked at the flask she held out after she took a sip, then managed a wan smile before accepting it, and taking a long drink. He exhaled as he returned it to her. “So. This civilian thing is new to me. Where do we need to start?” “If you agree to provide your services to the nation of Norland— for a price, of course,” she began. He frowned. “You want us to become mercenaries?” “Trust me,” Ingrid told him with a sigh. “It is better than most other options available to you and a solution I fought with my own superiors to accept. I doubt the combat members of your various groups will ever settle into lives of flower arranging and waiting tables. Not that it would not be fascinating to witness them trying.” There was no levity in her expression. “Given what you had lived with, being folded into our military would be regarded as trading one whip master for another. No one would have any trust for a chain of command that answers directly to a government. No matter how well our people might treat yours, they would chafe at any yoke; you know how dangerous your people would be if they lost control.” Nikolai grimaced and looked away from her. “Point.” “Also, being mercenaries would mean you choose whether you accept the work my government or others would seek you for. You would have one standing contract with the nation of Norland that should cover sustainment costs. What you do otherwise would be your choice.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “What sort of services would your country contract with mercenaries for?” “Help our military with their training. Regardless of the genetic modifications that make them exceptional, their knowledge and skill is the edge to their blades.” Nikolai straightened in unconscious 20
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pride for his people at her words. She smiled and continued. “The other service is aiding in the country’s defense against those we are becoming less adept in facing.” Nikolai frowned. “I did not realize Norland suffered conflicts to that degree. I had always known it to be a peaceful country. Neutral to the rest of the world’s political positions.” “It is less national states than capitalistic ones we have to defend against.” She put a hand over her heart. “The only corporations permitted within Norland are homegrown. Our laws curtail a lot of the most egregious behavior like what had corrupted Bangladen and many other nations. But those outside try to force their way in. Some with decidedly unethical means.” The memory of the “demonstration” that Mikhael Skylen and Rebeka Konstanine had taken part in flashed through his mind, the injury he suffered and the distant explosion that marked her death. And the open wounds left in both her companion Viktor and her lover Mikhael. “Never again,” he growled. He looked out into the distance, scowling. “It was corporate corruption that lost us one of our own. If this land is to become our own, I will be damned if I allow snakes anywhere near our nest.” “Good. I was hoping you would feel that way. I took the liberty of establishing a corporate structure with our government on your behalf while you traveled. We can review everything to ensure my assumptions are agreeable to you or get them modified to your satisfaction, then a few minor formalities to finalize everything. Figured the time spent with negotiations, arguing with idiot politicians and bureaucrats, and miles of paperwork would have ended up with someone being shot.” He blinked, mind going back to Viktor’s trial and the guard he had shot for attempting to kill the boy, and grinned. “You are not wrong in that assessment. I reserve my patience for less aggravating things. My gratitude for your consideration.” 21
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Ingrid laughed, then tapped the device, bringing up an aerial view photograph. “Excellent.” She cleared her throat, resuming a more businesslike tone. “In exchange for training, protection, and…” She considered a moment. “…perhaps three dozen cases of vodka…”
The caravan of trucks came to a stop in the open area
between the cluster of long buildings nestled within heavy trees and steep hills. Eyes were wide in awe as everyone exited the transports, staring at the space. Ingrid watched with a small smile, leaning against one bus with crossed arms. “Commander,” Svetlana breathed. “This place is beautiful! Is this really…ours?” No less awed by the magnificent scenery, Nikolai nodded with a small smile. “I am told it needs a lot of work, having been abandoned for so long. The buildings’ structural integrity is sound, but there is a considerable amount of cleaning required.” A worker maneuvered a forklift out of one of the many trucks. He stopped in shock at the woman standing in front of him. “Uh, excuse me?” “Lidiya, what are you doing?” Ilya asked, joining his pilot. He gave an apologetic look to the driver. “Come, move out of the way. You are stopping work from being accomplished.” “I want to help,” she stated, eyes dropping to the forklift. “I watched these operate at the docks. They look simple to operate, but I do not know the considerations needed. We never moved things like this.” She looked at the driver. “Teach me.” The man blinked, jaw dropping at the unexpected words. Ilya clucked his tongue. “Lidiya, remember your manners. He is an ally, not an enemy, yes? Show him respect.” The woman’s cheek’s pinkened as she averted her eyes. “Forgive me. Teach me, please.” 22
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The man blinked once more before he smiled, dismounting the forklift. “Well, before any teaching can happen, there must be introductions!” He held his hand out to her. “Magnus Hawken.” “Lidiya Zorova. This is Ilya Vlasenko, my companion.” His eyes widened at the strength of her grip as she clasped his hand. A huge grin all but split his face. “Strong, determined, and gorgeous. You are my kind of woman, Ms. Zorova!” She stared at him and the friendly demeanor he displayed, much more familiar with the hostile temperaments of those in the city back home. She looked at Ilya with uncertainty. Ilya grinned and put a hand on her shoulder. “He is just being polite. Would you prefer he uses your first name?” She nodded. The driver laughed. “Well, if I am to call you Lidiya, then you must call me Magnus. Agreed?” She nodded again, a little less uncertainty in her posture. “Good! Climb on, and we can get to work. The controls are not complicated; it is the terrain, the stuff you move, and watching out for knuckleheads walking in front of you without looking that make these things complicated.” Sashura looked at her pilot. “What is the matter, Yury?” “Lidiya is having fun,” he pouted. “She is getting to pilot something!” Ingrid blinked at the childlike demeanor of the pilots, watching with fascination as Nikolai took charge of the group. He whistled to get their wandering attentions. Even Lidiya stopped what she was doing to hurry over to listen. Magnus laughed and waved Ilya’s apology off, sitting on the engine compartment of the forklift to wait for their return, taking out a flask from his pocket. “Listen up, all of you. There is a great deal of work ahead of us, and much for all of us to learn.” He smiled to the uniform surprise of the attentive pilots when he included himself. “Yes, I have much to learn, too. And everything we learn, we will need to pass on to our brothers and sisters when they arrive. We are their vanguard for a 23
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change.” Backs straightened and shoulders squared in pride at their responsibility. He paused, meeting their gazes one by one before continuing. “This nation is not like Bangladen. They have accepted us as equals and welcomed us among them. I expect,” he declared, “for each of you to behave accordingly. They are not as familiar with how you have been trained, so restraint is imperative when among civilians. Always be certain to apply only enough force as needed and avoid killing. It will be difficult for all of us, yes. It was not how we trained you, and you were not expected to show restraint. Our superiors were fine with sacrificing civilian lives. They treated them as things and us as tools. “Viktor saw us as more than that. He saw his pilot as a human no different from him, despite him being far less capable as a fighter. When he lost Rebeka, he made it his goal that no one would ever use combatants as she had been used ever again. That even those traveling to join us, who he did not even know, would not be treated as objects to toss aside when broken.” He held his arms out. “This is his gift to us. A beautiful home. A new life.” He looked at Mikhael. “This is what Viktor wanted for Rebeka. Let us make certain to honor them both.” Lana grabbed Mikhael’s arm before he turned away and wrapped her arms around him in a fierce embrace. He trembled before falling to his knees, clinging to his companion. The other pilots watched him for a time before one by one, they rested a hand on his shoulder before finding one of the Norlander workers. Some offered their help while others requested instruction on the skills they displayed, their companions joining them. Nikolai turned back to Ingrid, tilting his head. “Is something wrong?” She considered her reply. “Right now? I think things are finally right.” She crossed her arms, almost hugging herself. “But I am re24
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membering my discussions with Viktor, and the few letters he sent. I am only now understanding the depth of what he had shared with me and I feel…” “Anger?” he offered. “Oh, what I feel is so much more visceral than anger,” she replied. “If I had understood the terrible lives your people endured…I don’t know. I doubt there is anything I could have done.” She sighed and laughed, a wry bitterness in her words. “Forgive me. I am getting soft in my old age. I normally do not let my personal feelings interfere with business.” “Perhaps life should not be just about business,” Nikolai mused, his gaze on the industry taking over the once abandoned location. “Or rather, business should not be cold and calculating. I think this is a good thing. Not as easy, but perhaps life is not meant to be.” He turned to her, offering his arm. “Shall we go oversee the dining facilities’ restoration? We will need a ready supply of coffee to discuss how this ‘corporation’ thing will work.” Ingrid smiled, linking her arm through his. “Have you decided on a name for your fledgling mercenary company? The paper pushers always focus on the meaningless details over substance, but I was not taking the choice of name from you.” He grinned at her. “A name is not a meaningless detail. Names are very important. They declare purpose as much as identity.” He looked toward the clear sky, watching a bird of prey circling, then folding its wings, dropping with lethal speed toward its target. He followed its maneuver, so much like many of his pilots were known for, with a sad smile. “In honor of those lost…we will be known as Retribution Company.”
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about the author Lexy Wolfe enjoys writing fantasy and science fiction. She is the author of the Emeralis Synth Chronicles, the Sundered Lands Saga, and Doom and the Warrior. She resides in Lebanon, PA where she is currently working on her next novel.