Nix paced an open stretch near the bar and spoke under his breath, almost to himself as though collecting his thoughts.
“The storm has passed. The Sector Eight spire lies in ruins, our spies tell us that Toras has lost his seat of power, and outside that door there’s a riot brewing.”
“The masses must be controlled, directed,” Elder Bartle replied in his shaky voice. In the half-light, his leathery skin was cast in shadow, the creases reminiscent of the cracked wasteland to the south of Planet Garuda’s twin great lakes.
“Someone’s already controlling them, and he’s downstairs right now,” Saturn scoffed, one hand still firmly grasping Liam’s upper arm.
Astrid chimed in, “I may not bear much love for my people or their actions, but there must be a more peaceful way to do this.”
Ju-Long smiled and flexed his bulging muscles under his tight shirt, his cloak draped over the chair behind him. He’d been amped up ever since returning from the Sector Eight spire. Somehow their mission had only made him thirsty for more. Nix, however, felt like he could use a good drink and a long nap to recover.
“I don’t know, Astrid,” Ju-Long said. “Pounding those Ansaran guards earlier was cathartic. How could something that makes you feel so good be wrong?”
“Enough,” Liam said, standing up from his chair with great effort.
Liam was visibly weak but determined. His pale face was lined with what appeared to be a decade of additional wrinkles due to the stress the Phage placed on his body. Nix had seen it a dozen times before. Dinari wasting away as their body turned on itself. It was never easy to witness, and he could only imagine what he was feeling.
Liam continued, “If Toras was removed from power this soon then our timeframe has moved up.”
A door clanked shut and Zega slithered up the steps to join the group. A foul smell wafted along with him like rotting meat. He must have just had supper.
“Ah, ah,” Zega sneered. “Impressive as your recovery may be, we had a deal.”
Liam retorted, “No deal is worth this, Zega. We’re the only ones that can fix this before it grows beyond our control. Anarchy won’t help either of us.”
An explosion rocked the building next door. Something thumped at the wooden entrance. At first the sound was slight, but the desperate knocks grew in power until they could no longer be ignored. Silent, Nix pointed to Ju-Long and then to the door. Ju-Long drew a laser pistol from his hip and followed Nix to the door, the two of them waiting patiently on either side and ready to act if the situation turned dangerous.
Nix pulled back the bolt and opened the door, a weight forcing it open faster than he’d intended. An elderly Dinari in blood-stained brown robes fell through the entryway, barely able to maintain his balance. In his clawed hand he clutched a small dagger, its squat blade dulled by countless chips.
“Elder Lok?” Nix asked.
“Zega must die,” the ancient Dinari wheezed, hardly able to maintain his breath. “Council—Murdered.”
A small amount of blood began to bleed out from within his robes and down from the corner of his mouth. He snarled and lunged at Zega. Nix and Ju-Long pulled his arms back and held the struggling man at bay. The dull blade fell from his hand and clanked to the roughly cut floorboards.
Elder Lok’s eyes appeared out of focus and he began mumbling under his breath as he collapsed to his knees.
“The killer—The man in blue. Merciless.”
31
Wisps of sand grazed the stone floor of Toras’ cell. Except for the blade of light that fell from the tiny open porthole, there was only darkness. Toras sat with his back up against one of the side walls, picking at the fabric of his tattered cape with nervous energy. It was only a matter of time before they came for him; before he was to be executed. It was small solace to know that they still needed him, if only for one thing.
Toras felt his muscles tighten. It was not like a member of House Zumora to go out so meekly. If he were destined to die anyway, he might as well spare the honor of his brethren. His fingers traveled along his waist to the spiked belt that had holstered his weapon. Toras removed it and wrapped his right hand so that the deadly material crawled up his forearm like a creeping vine, tucking the end and testing it against the skin of his free palm. It would do.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside the door, slow and measured. As they drew closer, he heard the clunk of armor plates. Toras rose up and pressed himself against the wall by the door. When the footsteps advanced, the stone faded away and only thick iron bars remained. The floor was illuminated with the intermittent flickers of a torch.
“Fallen far,” a metallic voice observed.
Toras recognized that voice. He closed his eyes and felt the sweat build up on his neck and forehead. Why did it have to be him? It wasn’t smart to speak to that sort of person when in a vulnerable position. He only understood power in its rawest form.
Toras fortified himself and pushed off from the wall, turning to face the man in blue.
“Death Wish, I should have known,” Toras said, attempting to keep his voice from shaking.
The mercenary gripped one of the bars with his armored glove and brought his mask close to one of the gaps.
“The Dinari council is dead.”
The mercenary laughed, his voice transmuted into a deeper register. Toras was horrified. If the council was dead, nothing could stand in the way of a revolution. Vidu would unleash everything on the people. What use was ruling when there was no one left to rule?
“I didn’t order that.”
Death Wish tightened his grip on the bar, the torch in his opposite hand licking the rusted iron just to the left.
“I don’t answer to you.”
Toras considered the shorter man, his thin but muscular frame accentuated by his intimidating armor. He should have known. Mercenaries only respond to the highest bidder. It was foolish to think they were ever truly on the same side. He was lucky their goals ever aligned, however temporarily.
“I have a proposition,” Death Wish said with his metallic purr. “Very lucrative.”
Toras inched closer to the bars. Maybe they would be able to strike a deal after all. Anything that got him out of that cell would be a win compared to waiting for certain death.
“I’m listening.”
“Vidu can’t be allowed to rule,” the mercenary said, releasing the bars and adjusting his gauntlet over his forearm.
“Agreed. But what do you propose we do about him?”
Toras was certain that Death Wish was smiling behind his mask. Whatever he proposed, Toras was prepared to accept the offer. Somehow he felt that the mercenary knew that as well.
“I’ll set you free. But, my help will come at a cost.”
Toras gazed at the flame’s reflection in the mercenary’s black visor. If he stayed he would be dead in a matter of days. At least out there he would have a chance.
“I’ll do whatever you ask.”
Death Wish’s voice vibrated through his mask, “Yes, you will.”
•
Liam gripped the elegant fabric at Zega’s neck, pulling up until the engorged proprietor’s eyes widened with fear. He felt a stitch in his side, an after effect of the illness perhaps. Liam would never be able to lift Zega off the ground, even with two of him, but the spineless Dinari’s eyes sought an exit nevertheless.
“The man in blue,” Liam began, anger tinging his voice, “He tried to kill me, he killed the Council of Elders. I know it was you. You hired him, why?”
Ju-Long and Saturn approached Zega from either side, cutting off any hope of escape.
“It wasn’t me,” Zega struggled to say. “S-Set up.”
Liam loosened his grip so Zega could breathe. The fat Dinari gasped for air, a trail of drool dribbling down his many chins.
“I didn’t hire him, but I know who did.”
Nix pulled an Ansaran laser pistol out of the holster at his thigh and pointed it at Zega’s head.
“Who?”
Zega eyed Nix quizzically as though being betrayed by an old friend. He refocused on Liam and spoke with sincerity in his voice.
“Toras. He knew we had a deal with Vidu. He’s the one who tried to take you out. He must have killed the council thinking I would be there as well.”
“Liar, Toras has no reason to kill the council,” Nix replied. “They were his last chance at maintaining stability.”
Nix brought the pistol closer to Zega’s head and his face contorted in a fit of tears and snot.
“I’m telling the truth!” Zega said, pleading now.
A buzzing sound filled the room, growing louder with every passing second. Liam looked around trying to find the source. It emanated from the body of Elder Lok, who lay lifeless on the ground.
“Check him,” Liam ordered.
Astrid knelt down beside the elder and felt around inside his robes. She stopped, turning to Liam and gazing at him with those blue eyes flecked with unearthly green. The Ansaran pulled out a vibrating sphere, silver in color and sheen with a slot that split the object in two.
“Set it down,” Nix told her, pointing toward the door. “Over there.”
Astrid complied, carefully placing it on the ground a few meters away. The vibrations began to intensify and the sphere separated into two halves. Purple energy lifted the top half off the base, rising two meters into the air where it hung suspended by some electrified force. A hologram appeared between the halves.
“We meet at last,” a metallic voice said.
Liam released Zega’s garments and stepped forward to face the man in the blue armor. He was smaller than he’d expected, but displayed a power beyond his size. The image zoomed out and Toras stood to his left. On his right was a frightened Dinari Liam recognized, gagged and bound. A laser pistol was pressed against her head. Liam swallowed a lump in his throat. Not again, he thought. He refused to be the cause of another innocent’s death.
“Sestra!” Liam called out, taking a single step forward before being held back by Saturn.
“You’ve surprised me Outsider. Few could have survived the Phage.”
Liam clenched his fists. Eyes flitting between the mercenary and Sestra’s distraught face.
“What do you want?”
Toras seemed uncomfortable beside the man in armor. Liam knew this wasn’t his style. This was all the man in blue. He spoke in a steady, measured tone colored by grating metal.
“Only you. I never lose a mark.”
“Make no mistake,” Liam seethed. “I will kill you for what you’ve done.”
“You have one hour.”
The hologram dissipated and the top half of the sphere fell out of the air, clinking against the wooden floorboards and rolling around until it stopped at Liam’s feet. A dastardly silence overcame the room. Nix stepped up to the broken sphere and knelt down to touch the metal. The crew watched as he picked up the bottom half and crushed it between his hands with every bit of his strength. Liam approached him, placing a consoling hand on his shoulder. He of all people knew the Dinari’s pain.
•
Toras gazed around the Caretaker’s chamber. The bodies of half a dozen guards littered the marble floor. Behind his old desk sat Vidu, slumped back in that uncomfortable chair, a blank expression painting his face. The blue hue had just begun to leave his sallow cheeks, leaving him paler than he ever was in life.
“It was meant to be this way, friend.”
The laser had bored its way through Vidu’s head. The wound was mostly cauterized with the blast, but a single trail of blood still snaked down his face, a deep purple hue that always turned Toras’ stomach. Somehow it was always worse seeing the blood of his own people.
Death Wish removed the Dinari’s gag and tossed it aside. Sestra leaned over and breathed deeply through her mouth, wetting her shallow lips with her tongue. She looked to Death Wish with defiance written all over her face.
“They’re going to know,” she declared. “What will you do once your secret is out?”
Death Wish knelt down in front of her and used his armored hand to force her chin up toward his own. Toras knew what she would see when she looked into his mask. It was what he saw as well. Only himself reflected back. Death Wish clenched his hand shut over Sestra’s jaw until Toras could hear the painful crunching sound of tendon being separated from bone.
Death Wish laughed and replied, “What I do best.”
32
“Nix, wait!”
The Dinari wouldn’t listen to reason. Saturn could see a darkness come over him that was unlike anything she’d seen before. The golden hue of his orbed eyes had grown pale along with his many tan scales. Nix shouldered a laser rifle and added several other items to his cloak from behind the bar. He was ready for war.
“Nix, we need a plan,” Liam appealed.
Nix didn’t respond, instead making for the back exit. Before he could reach it, Ju-Long stepped in front of his path.
“Can’t let you go.”
“Get out of my way, Human.”
Saturn moved in behind Nix and placed a hand on his shoulder. Through his roughly hewn robe, she could feel his muscles tense. He was shaking with fury, and understandably so. The man in blue had upended all of their lives. Something had to be done about him and she had a feeling that something was going to get violent.
“We’re going to get her back, but we’ve got to be smart.”
Saturn could feel Nix’s shoulder muscles begin to loosen. He turned his head ever so slightly and regarded her out of the corner of his large eyes.
“What do you suggest?”
•
Toras rounded the Caretaker’s desk and placed his hand on a sensor. The rectangular panel lit up a brilliant blue and projected his identification, still listed as the Caretaker of Garuda Colony. Vidu hadn’t had a chance to update the system.
“The changing of power is about more than just a title,” he told the mercenary hovering near the captive Dinari. “There’s a measure of control only given to the Caretaker and the second in command.”
Toras used his hand to swipe through to Vidu’s profile. His picture was displayed along with his birthplace on Ansara, his personal history, and DNA. Upon seeing Vidu’s birthplace, Toras snickered. Only the wealthiest of House Ansara were born in the Luxana District of Ansara’s Prime Colony. He should have known.
“You will honor our agreement,” Death Wish said as more of a statement than a question.
“I am a man of honor. The system needs a sample of your DNA and you’ll have access to all of our systems. The true power of the colony will be in your hands.”
Death Wish left the Dinari cowering on the floor, hands bound behind her back and trembling. He approached the terminal and examined the data as it scrolled past. Toras wondered what he was searching for, but knew better than to ask.
Toras pointed to the scanner and said, “This panel will sample DNA from your skin cells. It’s non-invasive, but you’ll have to remove your glove.”
The mercenary glanced up at the tall Ansaran as though measuring his integrity or determining his worth. After several seconds, he nodded and began loosening his gauntlet, eyes never leaving the Caretaker. As the mercenary removed his glove and placed his hand on the panel, Toras’ eyes widened.
“You’re, no, that can’t be right. That’s impossible!”
The panel turned green and the mercenary’s face was projected upward along with personal data, spinning in a slow circle.
•
“It’s a pity,” the mercenary said, voice transformed by the mask. “I was beginning to like you.”
Death Wish raised a laser pistol and fired into Toras’ chest without hesitation. The Caretaker fell to his knees and then slumped over onto his side, the shock never leaving his face. The mercenary knelt down beside him, watching the life leave his body. That was the best part. Toras was having trouble breathing. His hands fumbled over the wound but there was no
undoing what had been done. The blast went through and through. All he was breathing was blood. In seconds, it was over. Death Wish felt a smile creep up within.
The mercenary consoled the Ansaran’s lifeless body, “With the Ansaran High Council thinking House Zumora was staging a coup, it was only a matter of time before the assassins came calling. You should thank me. Without me, your death would not have been as quick.”
Satisfied, the mercenary stood and picked up the discarded glove. Sestra’s eyes were shut tight as though trying to be in another place entirely. Tears washed over her large golden eyes, dripping down between the valleys of her scales in a channel to the floor.
“I didn’t want to do it, but what choice did I have? He did see my face.”
There was nothing illogical about it. Every action deserved an adequate response. There were certain laws of the Universe that people just had to follow, no matter what. This was one of them.
“I’ve seen your face and you didn’t kill me,” Sestra reasoned.
“It’s a pretty face. I’m saving it for last,” Death Wish retorted.
Sestra looked up at the mercenary and choked out through a bout of tears, “Why are you doing this?”
Death Wish felt something soften deep inside. What was that, empathy? No, that didn’t make any sense. There was hardly an easier thing in the world. One of them deserved to live, and the other deserved to die. Some things were just that simple.
“In another life you don’t become so weak. In another life they would tremble at your feet,” Death Wish said pointing out the window to the colony below. “Change one thing and poof, you’re worthless. Fascinating, isn’t it?”
The Corsair Uprising Collection, Books 1-3 Page 46