by Carysa Locke
“Akyra, leave her alone.” This voice was male, definitely older. It held a cold authority that left no room for disobedience.
The woman, Akyra, fell silent. The sound of quiet sobs reached him, and suddenly he knew who the other woman was. Octavia.
He’d heard her crying before, back on Nemesis. She was a teleporter. A young girl barely seventeen, she’d struggled to find her place among the pirates after serving Veritas. To be fair, she hadn’t had much choice in the matter. Just like she’d had no choice when the Alpha Queen’s troops stole her away a few months ago.
Sebastian had the impression that Octavia had been granted few choices in her short life. A Talent as rare as teleportation was considered priceless in many circles. As a slave, she’d have fetched astronomical sums of hard coin. It pained him to think she’d suffered similar treatment at the hands of her own people, valued more for what she could do, than for who she was.
“Shut up!” Akyra said, her tone annoyed. “All you ever do is make excuses and cry.” The sound of her footsteps moved away from him.
Octavia’s sobs muffled, as though she’d pressed her hands to her mouth to try and silence them. Akyra muttered something he didn’t catch under her breath.
“Enough,” the man spoke again. “We knew grabbing the queen was a long shot. Reaper will never be far from her side.”
Mercy. They’d been after Mercy, but taken him, instead. How had they even found them? They couldn’t have followed from pirate space. He would have sensed another ship so close, even if they’d managed to hide in some way.
Something struck him in the ribs hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. He couldn’t contain his grunt of surprise and pain.
“Awake. As I thought,” the man said, giving Sebastian another nudge with his boot before removing it.
Sebastian opened his eyes, struggling to suck in a breath. There was no point in pretending any longer.
He was lying on a crew bench in a fairly small compartment. Bigger than a dropship. A corvette, he thought. He noted the distinctive hex shaped rivets in the seat beneath him. An Ivaldi corvette, from the width of the room and the shape of the hatch into the cockpit, he’d guess an older model, something from the early days following the Ascension Wars.
In front of him stood a man in light body armor, military grade but without any identifying markers. He was somewhere in his sixties, dark hair peppered with gray and kept short. He had even, tan skin with crow’s feet, but little else betrayed his age. His eyes were distinctive: cold, wintry blue.
A Killer.
Sebastian had to force his gaze to move past the man standing less than an arm’s length from him. It did no good to worry about what he could do. If he’d wanted Sebastian dead, he would be. A few feet beyond him, Octavia huddled on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest, tears sliding down her cheeks. Her pretty dark skin had a gray undertone, and she looked thinner than the last time he’d seen her. He frowned. Were they feeding her?
Her dark eyes were red and swollen, her expression miserable. He didn’t want to draw attention to her, so he continued looking around the room.
Leaning against the bulkhead beside one of the two doorways into and out of the room stood a young girl, twenty at most. Younger, he thought, eyeing her more closely. Short dark hair, smooth pale skin, and a deceptively thin frame. Deceptive, because he caught the curve of muscle as she crossed her arms, an insolent look on her face. But it was her eyes that arrested his attention.
Like the man’s, they were a familiar, icy blue.
Another Killer. But she didn’t radiate the emotionless calm he was used to seeing in them. Instead, she seemed restless, and angry.
He couldn’t think of anything more dangerous than an emotionally volatile Killer.
“No doubt you’ve figured out you can’t use your Talent,” the man said, drawing Sebastian’s attention back to him. “We’re aware of your particular gifts. We can’t have you taking over the ship.”
Sebastian didn’t respond. Carefully, he sat up. He didn’t like the vulnerability of lying down in front of these people. A moment passed while no one spoke. The man lifted an eyebrow.
“No questions? I’ll answer them anyway. You’re our prisoner, until we decide you’re no longer useful.”
That was blatant enough. Sebastian remained silent. He’d learned long ago in situations like this, the more often you opened your mouth, the more you invited punishment and retribution. And you often learned more by remaining silent. People, as a rule, loved to talk.
“Do what we tell you, don’t try to escape, and you’ll stay relatively comfortable.” The man paused. “Acknowledge that you understand.”
Sebastian nodded.
The girl by the door laughed, the sound so abrupt it startled him.
Octavia flinched at the sound. The man turned and gave the girl a long, silent stare.
“What?” She shrugged. “I think it’s funny. He believes by staying silent he’s somehow defying us.” Her gaze mocked him. “He doesn’t know we already picked through everything in his head.”
Sebastian kept his expression neutral. Maybe they had, and maybe they hadn’t. His shields were considerable. Even unconscious he found it unlikely they’d breached them to the degree she implied.
“Maybe we should throw him in the airlock and leave him there. He has nightmares about that.” She was taunting him, practically daring him to respond.
So, they’d gotten something from his head. But the nightmare of his childhood wasn’t a trauma that was deeply buried. He’d long ago put it behind him, and yes, sometimes he still woke covered in sweat, reliving those years he’d spent chained to the deck of Razor’s Deep, praying that Braxton wouldn’t really space him. But it didn’t mean anything that they knew about that. For all he knew, he’d been dreaming of it when they took him.
The man frowned. “Akyra, go and check our heading with Desmon.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why? He’s got it under control.”
“Because I told you to.” The man’s voice dropped deeper, colder, like the depths of winter in a snowstorm.
“Whatever.” She swaggered to the hatch that led to the cockpit and disappeared through it. The man watched her the entire way, and if a Killer ever eyed Sebastian with that same contemplative look, he’d start counting the days he continued to draw breath.
A few seconds after she left, a young man close to her in age shimmered into existence where she’d been standing. A ghost walker. He was slim, with blond hair that brushed his shoulders and a face more pretty than handsome. He frowned, watching the direction Akyra had gone.
“She’s getting worse, Kieran,” he said, the words so low Sebastian almost missed them.
Instead of responding, Kieran tilted his head. A moment later, the boy’s face blanched white, and he shot a terrified look at the older man.
Sebastian might not be able to hear their telepathic conversation, but he could read the non-verbal cues of their body language. Kieran wasn’t happy the boy has spoken aloud in front of Sebastian, and was rebuking him.
Then again, maybe all of this was simply being staged for his benefit for some reason.
His gaze moved to Octavia again. She still looked terrified, but she wasn’t crying anymore. She sat as small as she could make herself. That gave him some information about her time with these people, since she’s left Nemesis months ago. She was not comfortable here, and they frightened her.
For now, Sebastian filed everything he was witnessing away for careful examination later. Something told him he’d have plenty of time, and the smallest nuances might tell him a vulnerability he could exploit. Despite the man’s warnings, he had no intention of sitting around passively as their prisoner. He might have put his past behind him, but he would never be a slave again.
He realized Kieran was watching him again, and forced himself to meet that cold gaze. So far, he was the biggest obstacle. The girl was the most unpredictable, but thi
s man was the most dangerous. Older, more experienced, and a Killer. The boy was an issue as well. Anyone who could turn invisible and walk through walls was going to be a problem.
“A warning,” Kieran said. “Don’t try to use your Talent. You can’t, and the harder you try, the more you’ll risk damaging yourself.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter much to us. But there’s a chance you can come out of this intact, both mentally and physically.”
For the first time, Sebastian felt the urge to respond. And why not? He had the feeling he’d learned all he was going to by staying silent, for now.
He lifted his chin. “You mean you’re not planning to toss me out the nearest airlock when you’ve finished using me as bait?”
“We might,” Kieran said. “But prove you’re willing to be a team player, and you could live through this. She hates wasting good Talent.”
Sebastian didn’t have to ask who he meant. He was pretty certain he knew who she referred to. He cast a look at Octavia. “Yes,” he said dryly. “I can see she treats new people well.”
Kieran smiled. It was not reassuring. “That all depends on you. That one has been nothing but trouble. If her Talent weren’t so rare and prized, she would be dead already.” He sent her an impatient look. “Enough, girl. Get up. Koal, take her to eat something. If she shrinks anymore she’ll be nothing but skin and bones.”
Octavia scrambled to her feet. She practically sprinted across the small compartment to Koal’s side, meekly following the boy out the door and down the hall. That way would lead to the crew quarters, the galley, and a small cargo area. Sebastian had studied and memorized the layouts of many ships, over the years. It seemed prudent given his Talent.
This was a Dragonfly corvette, produced for roughly six decades, with a ten-year gap between the first forty years and the last twenty. They’d shut the line down once, but brought it back before replacing it with the faster Damsel model. A lower deck held the engine and drive core, accessible via a through hatch. He could see the ship holoprint in his mind. Frustration ate at him. If only he could access his Talent. Give him the ship, and he could turn this entire scenario around.
As if he could read his thoughts — and maybe he could — Kieran nodded. “You are an intelligent man,” he said. “Observant. Patient. It’s good we took your Talent, or you’d be a real problem.”
That was an odd way of phrasing it.
Sebastian lifted a hand and rubbed at his head as though he had a headache. His hair was loose, spilling over his shoulders. He threaded his fingers through it, surreptitiously feeling at his neck, the back of his head, behind his ear. He suppressed a frown. He couldn’t feel an inhibitor, the usual way of blocking someone’s Talent.
“Oh, you won’t find one,” Kieran said. “Even if we’d embedded it subdermally, a resourceful man might find it and dig it out.”
No inhibitor? Confused, Sebastian tried to make sense of that. “Then how…?” he couldn’t help but ask.
“Me,” said a new voice.
A woman stepped into the room from the hallway Koal and Octavia had disappeared down. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place why. Tall and slim, with angular, pretty features and a commanding presence, she arrested attention simply by entering the room. Her dark hair was braided and pinned up. She wore an armored vest over a wide belt that accentuated her narrow waist. She had no visible weapons. “I blocked your Talent, temporarily.”
“You…blocked my Talent,” he repeated. “How?”
She titled her head and smiled, saying nothing.
He took a breath. All right. “How temporary is it?”
“That depends entirely on you.”
He didn’t like that answer. It implied that she could leave the block permanently, if she chose to do so. Was she a powerful telepath of some kind? Some specialty that involved affecting the Talent of others? He’d never heard of such a thing, but Talent often showed itself in unexpected ways.
She jerked her head toward Kieran. “Show him to his room.”
Sebastian felt a start of surprise. He’d been assuming that Kieran was in charge here, but it was obvious from her bearing and tone that this woman commanded everyone here, even him.
She looked at him, and in the light her blue eyes looked almost violet. Prosthetic? Biotech?
“Be a polite guest and your stay with us will be pleasant enough.”
Octavia, Akyra, Desmon, Koal, and Kieran. Five, and this woman made six.
“And who may I ask is my hostess?” he asked, wanting a name. Not that it would tell him much, but you never knew what pieces of information might be important.
“You can call me Thirteen.”
His eyes widened. “Treon’s Thirteen?” he blurted before he could stop himself. Treon had said little about his interactions with this woman while she’d been aboard Nemesis, but the powerful telepath had definitely taken it personally when she’d so easily bested him and escaped.
Irritation drew her brows low. “Just Thirteen. I belong to no one.”
Kieran stirred next to Sebastian, and her eyes flicked to him.
“We all belong to our Queen, of course.” She gestured impatiently, and Kieran reached down and took Sebastian’s arm, pulling him to his feet. “Soon enough, you will, too.”
“I already have a Queen,” Sebastian said. “And I have no intention of leaving her.”
Thirteen watched as Kieran led him from the room. “We’ll see.”
Chapter Six
That first jump away from where they’d lost Sebastian was the hardest. Declan took command, ordering the drive spooled up, and Mercy closed her eyes through the jump itself. She took a ragged breath when it was done, and hoped Cannon was right.
Reaper stood across the room talking with Treon, yet Mercy felt the ghostly brush of his hand at her back. She sent a smile his way.
“Sebastian’s resourceful,” Cannon murmured beside her. “He may surprise us all and take over their ship.”
He could. But Mercy was willing to bet that someone powerful was holding Octavia’s leash, and whoever that person was would be no fool.
Each jump after that felt like the distance widened. There was no choice but to look forward, and focus on the mission at hand. The mood on the ship as a whole took a hit. Everyone was somber and seemed to view Sebastian’s loss as the first casualty. In the galley, Mercy overheard Declan telling Max to stop moping.
“We all knew everyone wouldn’t be coming back from this one,” the man said, clapping Max on the shoulder.
Mercy barely resisted the urge to say something scathing. She reminded herself this was his ship and she didn’t need to be starting anything with the guy now in charge of getting them to their destination.
But as soon as he left the room she sat beside Max and said, “Don’t listen to him. I intend to bring everyone back, including Sebastian.” She gave him a conspiratorial nudge with her shoulder, nodding toward the hatch Declan had just disappeared through. “Even that self-important jackass.”
Max gave her a wan smile. “And Octavia?” he asked.
Soberly, Mercy considered his question. He’d asked it seriously, and he deserved more than just a placating answer.
“If I can,” she said. “I owe her. Plus, she’s one of us. I don’t abandon my people.” Mercy meant every word. She couldn’t control how others treated her, but the moment she’d claimed the Talented, she’d promised her loyalty to them. That meant something.
Her eyes dropped to her bracelet, half expecting Lilith to pipe in with some pithy comment about how they owed their loyalty to Mercy, not the other way around. But there was only silence.
It was a silence that had lasted since the incident with Cannon. It was probably too much to hope that it would go on much longer. For now, though, she was spared her grandmother’s commentary.
“I’m glad.” Max fiddled with his fork. “I don’t know her well, but I think she’s probably scared. She hated him, you know. Willem.”
&nb
sp; This was dangerous territory. Willem had nearly killed Max, and was responsible for the murder of Kator, once Max’s bully and eventually his friend. It was something Max never talked about. Octavia had been with Willem when it happened, something Mercy should have thought about before assigning Max to keep an eye on the girl.
“How do you know that?” she asked.
He lifted a shoulder. “She told me once. She came up to me after class one day. It’s the only time she ever approached me. She looked me in the eye and said ‘I’m sorry about your friend. If I could have, I would have saved him. Willem was an asshole. He liked to hurt people.’ Anyway, she didn’t like working for him. And I bet she doesn’t like working for the Alpha Queen, either.”
Mercy hoped he was right. She smiled, and agreed, but in the back of her mind she wondered. There was so much they didn’t yet know about the Alpha Queen and how her claiming worked. So many pirates had served her, had gone with her fleet, abandoning everything and everyone they knew.
So many were lost, and Mercy didn’t know if they would find their way back, or if they even wanted to.
She thought about everything she and Feria had discussed, how the Alpha Queen had spent years, even decades fomenting conflict between Veritas and the pirates. This move to take the Commonwealth wasn’t a whim. It was something she’d had planned for a long, long time. Many of the pirates talked poorly of Lilith’s reign now, but she’d had fiercely loyal followers in her day. No one broke away and left, except Pallas, Mercy’s mother.
Breaking free of a Talented queen didn’t seem like an easy undertaking. Not for the first time, Mercy wished she could talk to her mother again. There was so much she’d have asked her, given the chance.
Max finished eating and left, and Mercy stayed, feeling bereft and alone. She didn’t feel like eating anything, despite the original impetus that had brought her here. She closed her eyes. Sebastian was, if nothing else, a friend. Someone becoming a good friend, and maybe something more. She couldn’t help but ask herself how she would feel if Reaper was the one missing.