Seven Devils

by Laura Lam

  “They died off,” Discordia said flatly. “In climactic flooding after the firestorms of the first wars with the Evoli. I remember my history.”

  “Yes,” Xander said. “Because what mattered was that the planet became ours. Nothing else. Every human in the Empire is like that firewolf. Including you and me.” He nodded to the figurine. “You should keep it. Something to remember me by when you strike me off your list.”

  “Next time,” she reminded him.

  When Xander smiled at her again, Discordia knew her promise was false.

  33.

  ERIS

  Present day

  Eris wanted off this planet. She’d spent hours that evening touring the ballroom with Damocles, dancing and drinking wine while Ariadne and Clo put themselves in danger and Nyx trailed behind her like a servant.

  Her brother hadn’t given her any more useful information. With their father in attendance, he wouldn’t have risked discussing whatever he had planned for the Evoli and their truce—and it had to be something; otherwise, he wouldn’t have shown such interest in Zoe’s weapon.

  I hate Zoe, Eris thought as she and Nyx made it safely back to the ship.

  Her face hurt from Zoe’s fake smiles and fake laughter, from pretending she didn’t give a damn that her brother had murdered someone in front of her and that her team thought she was a soulless killer.

  They’re not friends, a small voice in the back of her mind reminded her. They aren’t here because they like you, especially Clo.

  Eris gritted her teeth as they closed the ship’s hatch behind them. The storage bay was empty save for one lead-lined canister of the damn mystery rock Kyla had left behind for them, and a very filthy Clo and Ariadne. The duo must have arrived only shortly before; they were both wearing their natural faces, but Clo was still shaking mud off her boots.

  Eris nodded to the pair. “Success?”

  Clo shrugged. “Ariadne got intel, but I’ve had better nights. I need a nap.”

  “And a shower!” Ariadne added brightly.

  “I can see that,” Nyx said. The soldier discarded her servitor coat onto the floor like she couldn’t wait to get rid of it. “You both look shitty. Why are your faces painted up like a couple of husks?”

  “Hey.” Ariadne sounded offended as she swiped the markings off her cheeks. “Don’t be mean.”

  “We were out of options,” Clo said shortly. She gave Eris an assessing look. “All okay with Damocles?”

  Eris understood Clo’s unasked question: how was it seeing your brother again, after all this time? A part of her warmed at the concern, but she tried not to overthink Clo’s intentions. If Eris botched this mission, they’d all be dead.

  “He’s still alive, unfortunately,” she said, removing the shifter from the roof of her mouth. She relaxed as her face settled into its natural shape. Eris sighed. Gods, it felt good. “I’m going to my quarters. Don’t bother me for three hours.”

  “What if there’s a fire?” Ariadne asked. “Or another emergency?”

  “Either handle it or let me die. I’m tired.” Her bones were as heavy as her heart as she started for the doors. They opened before Eris reached for the button.

  Rhea stood there. Her eyes were wide and panicked, her usual grace replaced by agitated jerking movements. Eris didn’t know her well, but the other woman had kept a calm facade since she and Clo had first come aboard the ship.

  “You all need to get to the bridge,” Rhea told them, almost breathless. She must have run all the way from the command center.

  “What is it?” Nyx asked.

  Rhea just gestured with her hand. “With me. Now.”

  She led them to the command center. They all froze when they saw who was sitting in the oversized chair.

  “Son of a bitch,” Eris hissed.

  The pilot was unconscious, his head lolling to the side. The women recoiled from the scent of him, a combination of body odor, chemicals, and things Eris didn’t even want to contemplate since he’d been hiding somewhere on the ship for the better part of a godsdamn week.

  “How the flark is he here?” Clo demanded. “He took my ship! There’s no way he—” She stopped, coming to some realization. “He sent that ship out there unmanned. So we wouldn’t look for him. That bastard.”

  Rhea nodded. “He said he stayed behind for intel. Hoping for glory from the Empire for his trouble.”

  “So, he sent my ship down a wormhole for nothing? That bastard!”

  “Clever asshole.” Eris stepped closer to him. “Where was he hiding?”

  “Found him trying the exit hatch near the canteen. My guess is he’s been in the vents for days.” Rhea gestured to his injury. “Clo shot him. His wound is infected and he’s running a fever. I injected him with a hormone blocker to prevent the Oracle from triggering a stress response, so that’s keeping him calm for now.”

  Eris scrutinized the intruder. His greasy blond hair covered his brow, and his beard was as filthy as his pale skin. He appeared to be from one of the colder planets, perhaps Lethe, where there was a large military outpost with its own Birthing Center. New cohorts of soldiers were grown there, built for brute strength. Most of this new lot tended to have fairer skin than the darker-skinned crops of DNA used in the warmer Three Sisters region of the galaxy. He certainly looked big enough to be Lethean.

  As she decided what to do with him, something on his trousers caught her eye. Were those . . . “Crumbs?” She snapped her head to Rhea in disbelief. “You’ve been feeding him?”

  Rhea crossed her arms. “What was I supposed to do? Let him starve? He could barely walk.” At Eris’s silence, Rhea’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re going to torture him, he’ll need his strength, won’t he?”

  Damn. The woman had some cutting sarcasm.

  Ariadne shoved through. “What did you give him? Because I smell . . .” The girl inspected closer. “Aw, you fed him the proto-bars! Those are my favorites!”

  “Oh, enough of this.” Nyx strode to the table and grabbed her Mors. She pointed the gun right at his head. “Eris?”

  If Eris gave the command, Nyx would carry it out.

  Eris met Clo’s eyes, and the other woman shook her head slightly. Even with that small movement, Eris saw Clo’s hesitation. They were thinking the same thing: what could they do with the pilot? They’d have to get him back to headquarters for deprogramming, and they didn’t have time for that. They were in the middle of a mission. He was a liability.

  “Do it,” Eris said.

  Nyx cocked the gun.

  “Wait.” Rhea grasped the end of Nyx’s Mors before it could fire. “I think we should speak to him and see if he knows anything about . . . uh, Josephine.”

  “Josephine has an official name, by the way. Ichor.” Ariadne looked proud. “Means blood of the gods. Pretty fancy.”

  Nyx scowled at Ariadne before returning her attention to Rhea. “Pilots aren’t paid to know what their cargo is, just to deliver it. He’s dangerous.”

  Rhea was insistent. “He didn’t reach out to anyone.”

  “Yet,” Eris said quietly.

  “Rhea, it’s not for lack of trying.” Ariadne had grabbed her tablet to draw up the communication logs. “His comms were damaged when he was injured. He tried to send several messages, but they were caught by my firewalls when I de-Oracled the ship.” Ariadne opened one at random and read: “Mayday. Injured and trapped aboard Zelus. Ship successfully commandeered by insurgents. Requesting aid. He sent that one a few times, and then he called us bitches in this last one. I don’t think he’s nice.”

  “Of course he’s not nice,” Clo said. “He’s brainwashed and controlled by the Oracle.”

  “I think he’s pretty, though,” Ariadne said. “In a gross, unwashed sort of way.”

  Nyx rolled her eyes. “You think everyone’s pretty.”r />
  “Everyone has something pretty about them!”

  While they nattered back and forth, Eris steeled herself, tilting the pilot’s head up with the tip of her finger. Before his illness, the pilot must have been strong. Muscles still bulged at the shoulders of his filthy pilot’s uniform. His features were sunken from dehydration and fever, but he still looked like so many other soldiers, except for the scarring on his neck. It only showed because the collar of his uniform was badly torn.

  Eris leaned close, nose wrinkling slightly. “Interesting. He’s heavily scarred here. I wonder what caused it.”

  As if at her words, the pilot groaned, head turning side to side. One eyelid, caked with gunk, cracked open as he looked at her blearily. “Am I dead?” he asked, groggy.

  “You’re awake!” Ariadne chimed from behind Eris. “Hi! Your messages were rude.” She wiggled her fingers.

  He shut his eyes hard. “Not dead, then. Godsdamn it.”

  “Afraid so,” Eris said. “You look like shit.”

  “I feel like shit.”

  “Your humor is intact, at least.” When he opened his eyes again, Eris let out a slow breath. Blue, as pale as the sky on Lethe. “I have some bad news: I think you’re going to recover, pilot.”

  That blue gaze went hard, distant. “If you let that happen, I’ll kill you. First chance I get. In His name. Letum, God of Death, I kill for Thee.”

  “Five against one. I don’t like your odds.”

  “The worse odds, the better.” His voice was fainter, trembling.

  Eris jerked back. That sounded like something she would say. Something drilled into their minds through blood and pain and training.

  “If he mentions the God of Death one more time . . .” Nyx let out an irritated huff. “He’s a liability. We’ll never be able to break his programming.”

  “We broke yours,” Rhea said softly.

  “It was already fracturing on its own,” Nyx countered. “It took weeks, and we don’t have that kind of time.”

  “We have a duty to try.” Rhea shook her head. “We can try to get more of the blockers to keep him calm.”

  “Or he can go out the airlock with all the rest,” Nyx pointed out.

  “Do I get a choice in this?” the pilot asked.

  Eris raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a choice in anything. You’re a programmed puppet.”

  “First of all,” he said, “I’m not a puppet. Second of all—”

  “Let me guess, you’re not brainwashed?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Not interested.”

  “Excuse me,” Clo said, snapping her fingers between Eris and the pilot. “I agree with Nyx that he’s a liability.”

  “Of course you do.” Eris’s lip curled. “You don’t believe people can ever change.”

  The edge in her voice made the room go silent. Clo’s mouth moved, as if holding back the words. The curiosity from Rhea, Ariadne, and Nyx was so strong, it was as though Eris could taste it at the back of her throat.

  “Oookay,” Ariadne said, extra cheerful. “Hm. This is awkward. So, let’s just clear something up first.” She looked at the pilot. “Hey there, sir. Are you loyal to the Tholosians no matter what they do to you and the rest of the galaxy, and are you willing to die for that belief?”

  His eyes glazed again. “In His name.” Yet his body tensed, as if fighting the words. His back arched, mouth moving soundlessly.

  And he fainted.

  “That’ll be a yes, then,” Ariadne said.

  Rhea put a hand to his head. “His fever is bad. Make a decision. Heal or kill?”

  “My opinion remains the same,” Nyx said. “He’s everything that’s wrong with the Empire. Did you see the way he looked at us? He wants to string us up and gut us one by one. He’d march into that palace, wearing our entrails as a scarf, all to get some stupid gold button for his jacket.”

  Rhea winced at that mental image. “That’s his programming, Nyx.”

  “No shit. You could heal him and he’d still try to slit your throat the first chance he gets.”

  “True,” Rhea said, ruefully. She looked down at his prone form. “But I feel like we’ve killed enough for a lifetime, don’t you?”

  “Before this is over with, more will end up dying,” Clo muttered. At Rhea’s expression, Clo sighed. “Directly or indirectly, this is going to result in death, Rhea. It might be better to turn off our conscience for a while. If only it were that easy.” She gave a pointed glance at Eris. The barb landed.

  “Ariadne,” Eris focused on her. “You haven’t given your opinion.”

  Ariadne blinked, sputtered. “I—” Her mouth snapped closed.

  “That’s an ‘I have no idea,’ then,” Clo said.

  Eris sighed and leaned over to open one of the pilot’s eyelids. The pupil of those beautiful blues contracted. They weren’t pulsing, so at least the hormone blocker Rhea injected him with was still working. Eris’s instincts still said to kill him. Lessen the risks. Turn him into one more casualty of the Tholosian empire. Another broken promise to Kyla and Sher for the greater picture. But those instincts had been honed in the academy on Myndalia. The training grounds of Macella. The battlefields across the galaxy. This fevered, injured pilot had tried to break through the programming. It had been the barest glimmer, but Eris had seen it. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t.

  “I say we listen to Rhea and give him a chance.”

  Clo raised her eyebrows in surprise. Despite everything they’d been through, did she think Eris was still the person who killed first and asked forgiveness after?

  Eris’s fingernails dug into her palm. “Don’t give me that look. You judged me for all the people I’ve killed, so don’t be shocked I’m having some second thoughts.”

  Clo held up her hands. “I said bog all.”

  Nyx exhaled loudly through her nose. “Fine. He gets a shot. But first sign of trouble, we shove him out the airlock. Deal?”

  Eris gave a short nod. “Give me a hand with him. We’ll take him to the med center and take out his implant.”

  “I did that already,” Rhea said. “Don’t take me for an amateur.”

  Eris peered at the base of his skull. Sure enough, there was a tidy bandage, barely bloodstained.

  “His programming is in too deep for removing it to make much of a difference, but it might give him a start. And make it harder for the Oracle to track us,” Eris said. “How’d you learn to do this?”

  “She was there when a surgical bot took out mine,” Nyx said, shortly. “We taking him to the med bay or not?”

  Eris put up her hands. “Fine. We’ll get him patched and cleaned up.” She raised half of the chair the pilot was tied to, and Nyx reluctantly took the other. They carried him off to one of the brigs. He was ridiculously heavy.

  “Gods, he really stinks,” Nyx muttered.

  “Make sure Rhea doesn’t feed him all my favorite foods!” Ariadne called after them.

  * * *

  —

  After everyone had cleaned up and rested, the women met back at the bridge.

  The pilot was still in the medical center on the deck below them, passed out but recovering. Eris had checked on him to see that Rhea had given him a tincture to bring down his fever and even bathed and shaved his face. Beneath the grime, he still looked ill, but Ariadne had been right. He wasn’t ugly.

  “Clo, Ariadne,” Eris said. “Update me.”

  “Well, like I said, we found Josephine’s real name, but I still like Josephine better. Ichor sounds so harsh. And we successfully hacked the Oracle’s mainframe.” Ariadne pumped her fist in the air.

  “You successfully hacked the Oracle’s mainframe,” Clo said, “while I stood guard in mounting terror and also almost fell into an elevator shaft.”

  “We should pr
obably run,” Ariadne added. “Before the Oracle realizes I was here. One put up new blocks in One’s system after I disappeared from Tholos, so it’s only a matter of—”

  Eris burst out of her chair. “Are you kidding me? Clo, start up the godsdamn ship.”

  “Unless you want to tip them off,” Clo said, “we have to be approved for launch. I already put in the request, so sit down.”

  Eris reluctantly settled back into her chair. “How much time, Ariadne?”

  “Not sure. The Oracle runs scans on One’s programming every few weeks, so I’m hoping not until then.”

  “And the ichor?”

  Ariadne let out a frustrated breath. “Whatever information I could find was encrypted, and it’d be too risky to copy it. I managed to skim a few documents One kept about storing the ichor. I couldn’t see what it’s being used for, or whether General Damocles is directly involved, but all the rocks came through a warehouse on Ismara.”

  “Anything on Kyla’s murdered spies?”

  Ariadne shrugged. “I didn’t have time to look. I’d need to break the Oracle’s encryption wall for that too. But!” She lifted a hand. “I snuck in a virus. The Oracle will know it’s there if I access the information again, but in a pinch . . .”

  Eris stared at her. “No wonder Kyla likes you.”

  The girl grinned. “I’m also very charming.”

  “She’s so modest, too,” Clo added with a sly smile from the pilot seat. “Flight approval has gone through. We’re good to launch.”

  “Thank the gods.” Eris rubbed her forehead. “Get us out of here.”

  Clo rolled back to the screens and prepped the ship to jump to Ismara. The ship whooshed to life and she started angling the craft out of the hangar before it abruptly powered down again with a short stutter of the engine. “Uh.”

  “Oh gods, what now?” Eris asked.

  Clo shook her head and bashed at the controls, trying to get it to power up again. “Uhh. Ariadne? Help.”