Space Opera Sci-Fi Book Series With Strong Female Protagonist

Justice Keepers Saga by R.S. Penney

Series Excerpt

The arch-shaped opening in a red wall with gold trim along the baseboards looked in on a large room where round tables were spread out on the carpet, each one supporting a candle on its linen tablecloth. There were people – she could see a couple of young men making their way toward the slanted window – but the buzz of conversation was all but non-existent. Everyone spoke in hushed tones.

Anna stood outside.

She wore green denim pants and a white t-shirt under a coat that fell all the way to her knees. Her hair was done up in a ponytail with bangs falling across her forehead. And she was ready to go to war.

As she stepped forward, a hologram appeared inside the archway. The transparent image of a man with dark skin and an even darker beard frowned at her. “Madam, this lounge area is for members of the diplomatic office,” he said. “I must request that you leave at once before-”

Anna tapped at her multi-tool.

The hologram flickered, winking out of existence before reappearing again half a moment later. “Justice Keeper status recognized,” he said. “Thank you for visiting, Agent Lenai. Please have a pleasant day.”

When he vanished, she made her way into the lounge and took a moment to scan her surroundings. A long, slanted window on the far wall looked out upon the skyline of New York City.

Tall buildings rose up toward the open sky, each one reflecting the wan sunlight of a winter's afternoon. A few men in fancy Leyrian coats with high collars sat at one table on her left, and another group of people occupied a table to her left.

Anna closed her eyes and let her head hang. You're playing right into his hands, she thought, striding into the room. His stupid little overtures are probably designed to make you come down here.

She found Daython sitting at a table in a black high-collared shirt, chewing his food as he stared into his plate. “Well, you have to give the place this much credit,” Anna said as she approached. “The weather is terrible compared to Alios, but the décor is just so much more posh.”

He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, then looked up to blink at her. “Hello there, Anna,” he said. “I have to say I wasn't expecting you, but now that you're here, perhaps you could join me for a late lunch.”

Anna stood before him with arms crossed, frowning down at him. “You got me down here,” she said with a shrug. “So I'm gonna give you the benefit of assuming that the rose was code for 'Help! Come save me!'”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh no?”

“No.”

Gritting her teeth, Anna felt her face heat up. She turned her head to avoid the sight of him. “I'm not in the mood to play games with you, Daython,” she said. “This is your one chance to avoid ending your career on a harassment charge.”

He was lounging in that chair with his hands on the armrests, a lopsided grin on his face. “So I take it someone sent you flowers?” he inquired. “And you naturally assumed they came from me?”

The smug, self-satisfied demeanor made her want to slap him hard enough to knock teeth from his mouth. Lashing out in anger would feel wonderful right about then, but she was a Keeper. She would do this right.

Anna shut her eyes, taking a deep breath through her nose. “It came from New York City,” she said with a nod. “I made a trip down to the mail room and spent two very long hours going through the logs.”

She took the chair across from him.

Daython sat with his elbows on the arm rests, his mouth hidden behind steepled fingers. “Is that so?” he asked, eyebrows rising. “And even if you happen to be correct, what makes you think they came from me?”

“I don't know anyone else in New York.”

Keeping her temper in check required enormous amounts of willpower. Anna had no patience for people who couldn't even manage to display basic human decency, and she was especially disgusted with men who would not take no for an answer. Daython's comments in her office on Alios implied that he intended to win her over. A mistake of galactic proportions.

From what she had read, Earth was the perfect place for a man like Daython. Far too many men here shared his affliction. Not all, of course, but many. Her world used to have a similar problem in regard to the way men treated women. Three years ago, she would have insisted that Leyrians had outgrown such behaviour. Now, she was slightly less firm in that assertion. Her people had made great strides – and most of the men on her world treated women with respect – but there were still some with sexist attitudes.

Of course, she had to admit there were some women on her world who had a hard time understanding the meaning of the word 'no.' Prestige had a way of making people think they could have anything they wanted. Leyrians had given up the use of money, but every now and then some inventor or software developer became a little too fond of the praise she received.

Daython lifted a glass of wine, pausing for a moment to inhale the bouquet before he took a sip. “And you honestly think that implicates me?” he asked. “Maybe you've got a secret admirer.”

Anna winced so hard sweat prickled on her forehead. “I don't have any admirers,” she said, shaking her head. “Except for a young diplomat who just can't figure out that I am not interested.”

“The subtle art of negotiation.”

“Excuse me?”

Daython turned his head so that she saw him in profile, squinting into the distance. “Has it occurred to you,” he began, “that my entire career revolves around convincing people to change their minds?”

Hunching over the table with her arms folded, Anna glared at him. “So you think that applies to your personal life as well?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Why can't you just accept that a relationship with me is off the table?”

He stood.

Turning his back on her, he made his way over to the window with the wine glass in hand. No doubt he expected her to join him, and that was probably some technique he intended to use to gain her compliance. Anna didn't spend a lot of time reading through psychological journals, but it wouldn't surprise her to learn that making someone come to you subtly reinforced the idea that he should work to earn your approval. Seth was angry, and rightly so. The Nassai despised manipulation.

Despite the obvious ploy, she found herself playing along, shuffling over to the window so she could look out on the city of Manhattan. She drew the line at speaking, however. Daython could make the first move.

He stood there for a moment, taking a sip of his wine before he finally decided to acknowledge her. “I'm a man who's used to getting what he wants,” he said. “And I must admit that I want you.”

She knew she was going to regret this – the smartest thing to do was to tell him in no uncertain terms that she was not interested and then to inform his supervisors – but curiosity got the better of her. The psyche of a man who chased after women that found him repulsive was so bizarre, she just had to know. “Why?”

“You're a Justice Keeper,” he answered. “I've always wanted to sleep with a Justice Keeper. Allow me to make a proposal, Anna. One night of the best sex you've ever had, and then I'll leave you be.”

“Really?” Anna said. “Here's my counter.”

She seized his wrist.

Anna gave a tug with enough force to send wine sloshing over the rim of his glass. It splashed against his shirt, leaving a big wet stain, and Daython stared down at himself with his mouth hanging open.

She very nearly jumped when she heard a deep, familiar voice call out from behind her. “Brilliant,” her father said. “Once again, my youngest decides to make her opinions known in the most destructive way possible.”

She turned.

Beran Lenai stood between two tables, dressed in black pants and a simple blue coat. A short man with a stern face, he kept his red beard neatly trimmed and wore his hair parted on the left. “Leana.”

She closed her eyes, a flush singeing her cheeks. With a sigh, she bowed her head to him. “Hello, Dad,” she began. “Before you start in with one of your lectures, I think I should tell you that this man won't stop making romantic overtures.”

Beran scowled, turning his head to stare at Daython. “Get out of here,” he growled, jerking his head toward the door. “I'll deal with you later. For now, I think my daughter and I should have a little talk.”

Tiny snowflakes fluttered just outside the window over the sink, so many Harry could barely see the house next door. If this kept up, he was going to have to shovel again, and his back was already protesting the last session.

The huge blue bowl was filled with leafy green lettuce that had been drenched in Caesar dressing, complete with croûtons and bacon bits. Making the salad had been his task; his girlfriend was making some Leyrian dish that involved chicken.

“So we got nothing,” Jena said.

Harry frowned, staring down at his creation. “Nothing at all from Slade?” he asked, deep creases lining his brow. “The guy didn't trip over his words or mix up the details of his story?”

He turned.

Jena was leaning against the kitchen table with her arms folded, gorgeous as ever in a pair of blue jeans and a purple sweater. “Nope,” she said. “In fact, he seemed contemptuous of the whole process.”

Harry winced, hanging his head. “Sounds like you've hit a wall,” he said, carrying the bowl over to the table. “Let me ask you something, Jen, have you ever considered the possibility that he might be innocent?”

The scowl she directed at the wall told him that he was walking on thin ice, and the slight flush in her cheeks emphasized the point. “He's not innocent,” she muttered, “The man loves his schemes.”

“Maybe,” Harry countered. “But that doesn't prove he was involved with Breslan.” The urge to play skeptic to her believer was hard to resist. It wasn't that he distrusted his girlfriend's instincts – Jena was an outstanding cop – but twenty years of working in law-enforcement instilled certain habits. You tended to play devil's advocate with your partner just to make sure all the evidence was in line.

Jena stood up straight.

She marched through the galley-style kitchen with her hand in her back pockets, heaving out a frustrated sigh. “Breslan worked to undermine a legitimate investigation,” she began. “Jack brought in a weapons dealer, and Slade suspended him for it.”

“After he disobeyed orders.”

“What's your point?”

Crossing his arms with a grunt, Harry studied his girlfriend's back. “Did it occur to you that maybe Slade was trying to send a message?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Jack isn't exactly known for being a team player.”

Jena froze in mid-step, turning partway, glancing over her shoulder. “The kid's a little rough in his delivery,” she said. “But he means well. If my boss told me not to go after an arms dealer, I'd be skeptical too.”

Harry sat in a nearby chair, hunching over until he was nearly bent in half. “I'm not sure what to tell you,” he said with a shrug. “If one of my people disobeyed orders – even if he brought in a mob boss doing it – there would be some consequences.”