by Carysa Locke
They’d arrived in the Commonwealth.
Chapter Two
Mercy and Reaper stepped off the lift to the command deck together. Sebastian and Cannon were already there, as well as Titus, who was piloting the war frigate, and Ghost, who sat in the copilot’s chair and handled navigation. Both dogs had been assisting Reaper in Mercy’s training.
Ghost glanced over. His eyes had a sleepy look and his dark hair was messy. Three days’ worth of beard growth covered his jawline. He gave them both a quick appraisal, his gaze lingering on Mercy. You look like shit.
At least I have an excuse, Mercy sent back. What’s going on with you?
Predictably, he scowled and looked away. Not everyone was dealing well with the appearance of the Alpha Queen and her forces. Since that battle, Ghost had been a different person. Not that Mercy had known him well before, but she recognized when someone was wrestling with demons. And Reaper was worried. He didn’t show it overtly, but she could tell. He watched Ghost a lot more, and he kept giving the dog things to do. She suspected both to keep him busy, and to keep him close.
So far, Ghost had kept whatever was bothering him from affecting his duties. But the normally laconic dog had become short-tempered and acerbic, and Mercy was pretty sure he was popping stims to stay awake and clear-headed. She didn’t think he was sleeping much.
She’d tried to talk to Reaper about it. But he just shrugged and said Ghost would work through it in his own time.
Maybe. But the longer this went on, the more she had her doubts. And she wasn’t the only one. She saw Cannon frowning at Ghost, rubbing at his jaw. That was Cannon’s tell for something bothering him. Well, as an empath he’d be more aware of Ghost’s emotional state than any of them.
Was it a mistake, bringing him on this mission? She sent the thought to Cannon, keeping it on a tight personal thread.
I don’t know. He’s always been a good man. Reliable, loyal, excellent with his Talent and good with people. He was the calming influence among the more volatile personalities of Reaper’s dogs. But now? Cannon glanced at her. There is so much anger inside him.
Great. They were already in hazardous space, even attempting this mission. The last thing they needed was another complication.
Off to one side stood Declan, a pirate Mercy didn’t know well. According to Reaper, he was a strong contender for the newly opened position on the Core left vacant by Griffin’s departure. He was tall, with wide shoulders and a muscular bulk which said he spent a lot of time on his physique. His hair was cut even shorter than Reaper’s, barely a stubble on his head. He spoke little, but watched everything with sharp, dark eyes.
Mercy didn’t know what to think about him yet. Reaper said he was a strong psychometrist, a type of touch telepathy. He could see events or people based on the objects he touched, and he could bypass any shield if he physically touched someone. Mercy had taken care to avoid him for exactly that reason.
He nodded to them in greeting. Mercy returned the gesture.
Sebastian stood in front of a projected holomap. A planet spun slowly in front of him, a spaceport in orbit above it. A dozen ships were either docked, or coming and going from the port.
“Where are we?” Mercy asked.
“Tunai,” Sebastian said. “It’s owned by a merchant corporation. No official military presence to speak of, and busy enough with frequent commerce that one more frigate passing through shouldn’t raise any alarm.” He glanced at her, much as Ghost had.
I see you enjoyed the new program, he said telepathically. There was just enough mirth in his mental voice to have her eyes narrowing.
You help build that monster, didn’t you?
The claws felt real, right? It was Max’s idea to use a low-grade stun charge. Just enough oomph to feel like a real cut with its claws.
Max, hmm? And I suppose he did that all on his own.
Well, he’s a brilliant young man.
Uh-huh. Mercy wasn’t buying it. And who talked to the ship’s defense systems and got the simulation to tap into them?
I may have helped a little.
Sure he had. Sebastian and Max were thick as thieves. Mercy hadn’t realized the two even knew each other, much less how close they were. But Max had a deep interest in ship engineering, and Sebastian’s Talent allowed him to connect with the very heart of a ship and control it.
Max had a lot of ideas that walked the line between crazy and genius. Mercy had begun to question the wisdom of putting the two of them together.
She especially questioned bringing Max along on this mission. He was a teenager, after all. But pirates grew up fast, and Max really did have a brilliant mind. Cannon had pointed out that the kid had done a graduate research project for school on Ascension War era technology. Mercy had no idea until that moment, just how much Max knew about the Wars, or that he’d managed to tweak the plasma guns on one of Nemesis’s fighters to be five times more powerful, based on his research.
He’d begged on his hands and knees to be allowed to come, and Mercy had reluctantly agreed that his knowledge could prove useful.
Of course, his presence came with a lot of rules. Technically, he was here as Mercy’s sponsoree, but in reality he’d been assigned to Reaper’s dogs under the stipulation that he did what he was told, when he was told it, with zero hesitation.
So far, things had gone well. But this was just the first jump in a long journey.
She realized the conversation had continued around her, and tried to pay attention again.
“We’ve used this entry point many times,” Declan was saying. “There’s never been a problem.” His expression darkened. “That was before, of course.”
“Yes,” Cannon agreed. “Things are different now. We need to approach every situation with caution.”
Before. Everything now was before the Alpha Queen and her attacks, and after. At first, things hadn’t seemed so bad. In the wake of their new treaty with Veritas, relations between the pirates and the Commonwealth were headed in a new direction. One Mercy viewed with cautious optimism. That is, until the entire Commonwealth government was assassinated and all of the newscasts across the galaxy reported that pirates were responsible.
Cannon pulled in most of their fleet, preparing for the worst. But the attack they expected never came. As they waited, watching and listening, the Commonwealth dissolved into chaos.
In a single stroke, the Alpha Queen shattered three hundred years of stability. And what worried Mercy most was whatever she planned to do next.
They had to be prepared for whatever was coming.
Declan made a dismissive noise. “My ship can stand up to anything the Commonwealth can throw at her.”
Cannon raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Mercy didn’t need to read his thoughts to know what he was thinking; it was sheer arrogance for Declan to think that way. This frigate might be well armed and armored, but that didn’t mean it was invincible.
A captured merchant frigate which the pirates had converted to a warship, Declan’s ship was much smaller than Nemesis. It was, according to Cannon, the perfect vessel to risk taking into the Commonwealth. There were literally tens of thousands of them scattered across the galaxy. Merchants used them. Mercenaries used them. Even the Navy used them, largely as armed transports. No one would blink an eye at seeing one, while Nemesis would have gained a lot of unwanted attention.
“Is there a problem?” Mercy asked, wondering what she’d missed while she wasn’t paying attention.
“Not yet,” Sebastian said. “But—” He gestured with a hand, and a voice began speaking through the ship’s audio system.
“…stay in designated flight zones. Any deviation will be considered an act of aggression. A twenty percent tithe will be assessed to any ships refueling. This is in addition to the cost of fuel, and can be paid in either goods or hard coin. Credit cannot be accepted at this time. Please stay in designated flight zones…”
Sebastian gestured again, and the voice
went silent. “It’s being broadcast on a wide band to all incoming ships.”
Mercy glanced around. “This is unusual?”
“Tunai is just inside Commonwealth space,” Reaper said. “We’ve stopped here many times for restocking and refueling. They don’t care who you are if you pay good coin and keep to your business.”
“So?”
He gestured to the holomap. “Three of those ships are flying Tunai security colors. They’ve never greeted incoming vessels with an armed escort before.”
“And they’ve never charged a tithe,” Declan added.
“If this is what we’re encountering here,” Cannon said. “It’s going to get much worse the deeper into the Commonwealth we go.”
Arcadius V, their destination, was in the Theta solar system, one of the core systems in the Commonwealth. They’d have to go in so deep they might as well be headed to Praxus, home of the monarchy itself.
“How many jumps will this take?” she asked.
“We don’t know,” Sebastian said. “From what our friends in Veritas tell us, several larger jump points are closed. We’re meeting up with a representative from Veritas here, so we should be able to map a navigational plan with their help.”
“But first we have to dock,” Cannon said.
Tension grew as they followed the course assigned to them and docked with the station. A spaceport rep was waiting, four security personnel at his back. They didn’t need to refuel yet, but it was decided they would go ahead and do so, paying the tithe and all. No one knew how easy it would be to find a fueling station deeper in Commonwealth space, or how expensive things might get.
Mercy wasn’t sure she breathed while Cannon and Reaper met with the official. But everything went smoothly, and a few minutes later they came back on board. A familiar face was with them.
“Feria.” Mercy couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. Out of everyone Veritas could have sent, she was shocked Feria had come. She was highly placed within Veritas and had in fact signed the treaty with the pirates, but Feria harbored deep feelings of resentment and bitterness about it. She was the last person Mercy expected to help them.
Although clearly the same woman, she looked nothing like the person Mercy had met a few months ago. Then, she’d been poised and perfect. She’d worn a suit like those found in corporate boardrooms, her dark hair carefully coiffed and not a strand out of place. Her face had been so perfect it didn’t look real.
That beauty was still present. But the air of untouchable perfection was gone. For starters, the woman was wearing armored clothing, scuffed and worn. Dark pants tucked into utilitarian boots; a long-sleeved, form-fitting shirt; and an armored vest cinched by a belt at her waist. A holster hung from the belt, tied down to her shapely thigh and holding a disruptor. Her hair was shorter, hanging loose around her face at chin length. It softened her features. A bag was slung over one shoulder, just as worn-looking as her clothes. She looked less like an ethereal holo-vid star and more like a mercenary…or a pirate.
“Nice outfit,” muttered Cannon.
“You like it?” Feria spread her hands, doing a little turn for them. “I thought I’d try to blend in. I call it pirate-nouveau.”
Mercy barely kept from rolling her eyes.
No one said anything. Feria faced them again, hands on her hips. She looked around the deck, taking in each of them. Her gaze stopped on Mercy.
“Ms. Kincaid,” Feria said. Her tone was so cold space couldn’t compete.
Ah, Mercy thought. She doesn’t want to acknowledge me as Queen. That was fine. She couldn’t resist goading her a little, though.
“If you’re going to play pirate, you can address me by my title. My Queen or Your Majesty will do.” Mercy had to fight to keep her tone cool and her face bland. She felt the look Cannon slid her way, and Reaper laughed on a tight mental thread sent just to her. She didn’t dare look at either of them.
Feria’s lip curled. “I would sooner die.”
“That could be arranged,” Declan said. He didn’t move from where he stood leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Reaper’s laughter died and the feeling in the room went from uncomfortable to tense.
Feria’s beautiful jade-colored eyes narrowed. Her hand twitched and Mercy felt Talent building around her.
That was enough of that. “I’m kidding. I don’t like titles, Feria. I think we’re past formalities, don’t you?” Mercy held out a hand. “Let’s start over, just two people working toward a common goal. Allies against the same enemy.”
Feria eyed her hand like she expected to be bitten by it. Mercy waited. Gingerly, Feria reached out, barely brushing her fingers to Mercy’s before letting go. Shaking hands was much more common among nulls. With Talented, physical touch often made it easier to get past someone’s shields. It was an act of trust. Maybe a small one, but it was a step forward.
“Great.” Mercy took a deep breath. “Let’s get you settled in your quarters, and then we can look at some astrogation charts.” She sent a thought to Reaper and Cannon. Do you think having her work with Ghost is the best idea?
We have to start trusting each other, however hard that might be, Cannon said.
Ghost will do his job, Reaper added.
A treaty is all fine and good, Mercy said, but if we’ve learned anything from recent events, peace is fragile. Nothing can happen to Feria while she’s working with us.
I’ll keep an eye on things, Cannon said. Make sure emotions don’t run too hot.
That would have to do, for now.
Mercy personally showed Feria to her room. She thought they’d spend the entire time in silence, but the other woman surprised her.
“Have you been in a fight?” Feria asked.
Mercy realized she was still favoring her sore hip. Most of her clothing had mended itself, but her jacket was beyond the fabric’s ability to repair.
“Ah…no. Training,” she said.
Feria raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought all of the pirates wanted to put you in a safe little box filled with packing foam, as far from any danger as possible.”
“They’ve come to realize that’s an unrealistic expectation.” Mercy winced, her shoulder aching as she lifted her arm to open the door to Feria’s quarters. “Reaper’s striving to make me untouchable by training me to be the biggest badass.”
“Probably not the worst idea,” Feria said. “Given everything that’s happened.”
It was the most civil conversation Mercy had ever had with someone working for Veritas.
Feria stepped past her into the room. It was small, but serviceable. Once, it had probably been used for passengers. Some merchant vessels pulled double duty that way, offering passage to fringe worlds that had fewer options available in commercial travel. It had a sleeping alcove, a small kitchen unit, and even a built-in counter and chair for working at or dining.
Mercy watched as Feria slung her bag onto the counter. She could have left then, but this might be her only opportunity to talk with her alone.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” she said, leaning her uninjured shoulder in the doorway.
“Yes?” Feria crossed her arms as she turned to face Mercy.
“Back on Birn.” That meeting felt like a lifetime ago. “You said something. I’ve never forgotten it.”
“Oh?” Feria’s tone was cold again.
Mercy forged ahead. “You said the virus was originally developed to attack the genome of a Talented queen.”
“I don’t recall.”
“Yes, you do. You also said Veritas had spent every day fighting to remain free. What did you mean by that?”
“Why don’t you ask Cannon? Or Reaper? Or any of them?”
“I’m asking you.”
Feria snorted, looking away. Mercy pushed away from the wall and stepped into the room.
“I want to know your side of the story. Please.”
After a moment, Feria sighed. “Does thi
s thing come stocked with coffee?” She approached the kitchen unit.
“It does. The real stuff, even.”
“Really?” For once, Feria actually sounded impressed. She fiddled with the unit until it produced two cups of steaming coffee, a bowl of sugar, and a small pitcher of cream. She slid one of the cups toward Mercy in silent invitation and then went about doctoring her own. Mercy took hers without comment, and sipped it, waiting.
“After Talent was outlawed,” Feria said at last, “you already know many Talented fled the Commonwealth. But others stayed.” She leaned one hip on the counter, holding her cup in both hands. “The Talented were being hunted like criminals, dragged away by bounty hunters or military police acting as little more than kill squads.” Her mouth twisted. “And the slave markets were still buying and selling us like cattle. Our dwindling numbers only drove up prices.”
“I still don’t understand how all of that worked,” Mercy said. “Everything I’ve read about the wars suggests that the Talented were elite soldiers. Untouchable. How could we be hunted so effectively? How could nulls enslave us?”
Feria shrugged. “We weren’t the only enhanced soldiers created by the Commonwealth. There were others made powerful by biotech. Strong. Dangerous. By the time Talent was outlawed, we’d given up war. Settled down to normal lives. Started families. Some Talented remained soldiers, but others were civilians. Average people in most ways. Obviously, the more powerful the Talented, the harder it is to control them. But there are those who make easier targets. The slavers prize children above all others, because they can train them from a young age, indoctrinate them to a life of obedience.” She gave a delicate shudder. “And some slavers use control collars. Vile, illegal tech that binds itself to your genetic code so it can never be removed. The collars have various triggers, and are controlled by the slave’s owner. If they dare disobey or use Talent without permission, or if they attack their owners, the collar explodes. We’ve never figured out how to safely remove them, and believe me, we’ve tried.” There was a bleakness to Feria’s voice.