Seven Devils

by Laura Lam

  Ariadne leaned over Clo and typed something into the controls, then squinted at the screen. “Wait a minute. There’s a lock on jumping. With a name of who gave the command . . . Cato. Who’s Cato?”

  The women all stared at each other. Then, as one: “The pilot.”

  34.

  NYX

  Present day

  That son of a bitch should have been killed the second he was recovered, Nyx thought as she and the others stomped to the med center. She should have floated the pilot out into space her damn self.

  “What the fuck kind of a name is Cato anyway?”

  “It’s Old World language,” replied Ariadne, ever the encyclopedia.

  “For what? Asshole?”

  “Shrewd,” Ariadne corrected, clicking away on her tablet as she pulled up the original Zelus manifest. “Cato Rigel-12. The Rigels were a militus cohort bred for intelligence.”

  “Then he’s got a malfunction in his genetic engineering.” Nyx followed closely behind Eris, hoping to get the command to put a Mors blast to his head.

  “How did this happen?” Eris asked Rhea as they rounded a corner in the main hallway.

  Eris’s hands were balled into fists; she was probably frustrated because until they could get the ship up and running, they were stuck in Tholosian territory. Nyx didn’t blame her. She wanted to get the fuck off this rock.

  Rhea shook her head. “Maybe it was always a failsafe.”

  “Or he did it when you brought him into the command center,” Eris said.

  “I only left him alone for—”

  “You don’t need to explain yourself,” Nyx snapped. “You were trying to help the bastard. As soon as he tells us how to fix this, I’m killing him.”

  Nyx flung open the door to the medical center. The pilot—Cato—didn’t even show surprise when she seized him by the front of the shirt. “Get up.”

  “A little difficult when I’m tied to the bed,” he retorted.

  Eris undid his bindings from the posts and re-bound his hands together. Nyx hauled his ass out of the bed and half-carried, half-dragged him out of the room.

  “Hey, careful with my wound,” he protested as his feet skidded across the marble hallway of the ship. “Your friend just cleaned it.”

  “Careful? I ought to stick a knife in it just to watch you scream.” Nyx flung open the door to another room and shoved him inside. “Get in there. Sit down or I’ll send you straight to the darkest level of Avern.”

  The interrogation room was nearly sealed. The air ducts were too tiny to climb through. No escapes.

  Eris, Ariadne, and Rhea followed behind; Clo had stayed in the command center to see if she could work around Cato’s lock, but told them over the Pathos that it wasn’t looking promising. The only way to unlock it was a code, and the cypher was this Tholosian brainwashed dickbag.

  Eris stepped forward, but Nyx put up a hand. “Let me do this.” It was what she was trained for. Control, Nyx told herself. Control. “You,” she said to the pilot. “Talk.”

  Nyx knew how she sounded: wound tight, coiled with a promised violence itching to lash out. One wrong word, and she’d break the bones of his face to bash the information she needed out of him.

  “Talk, huh?” His grin was slow. “About anything? Because I can chat for hours. It’s one of my most infuriating qualities. Just ask your friend here.” Cato glanced at Rhea.

  “He ranted in Tholosian propaganda phrases the whole time I cleaned him up,” Rhea said, rolling her eyes. “He was out of it but it was still annoying.”

  “I’m wounded, literally and metaphorically. Here I thought you enjoyed the sound of my voice. And me without a shirt on. Or was it just my face? You touched it enough.” He winked. “Thanks for the shave. I didn’t much like the scruff.”

  Nyx studied him. Without the dirt and beard, he looked like a pretty boy, more fit for the Pleasure Gardens than military, but that sharp gaze was all soldier. She had no doubt that he had seen his share of ground battle. Faded burn scars smattered the neckline of his shirt.

  “That one’s quiet this time.” Cato jerked his chin toward Eris. “I could have sworn she enjoyed swearing at me.”

  “Shut up,” Nyx snarled.

  Cato smirked. “I thought you wanted me to talk.” He nodded to Eris. “I like her best. I’ll talk to her.”

  Nyx balled up the front of his shirt and jerked his chair forward. “You’ll talk to me.”

  “Nope.”

  “What’d you do to the ship?” Nyx asked, taking out her knife. The sharp edge glinted in the harsh overhead lights of the interrogation room. She pointed the blade toward his eye, touching with just the tip so he got the idea.

  But he was a stubborn bastard. His slow grin was easy and he cocked his head at Rhea, away from the blade. “That pretty girl shouldn’t have turned her back.”

  With a growl, Nyx tightened her grip on his shirt. “How do we fix it?”

  “Oh, I don’t know that—”

  Nyx slashed the blade across the underside of his chin. It was a long cut but superficial. A perfectly controlled warning. Blood welled against his pale skin. Behind her, Rhea sucked in a breath.

  “Try again, asshole.” Nyx held the blade to his throat.

  Cato didn’t even drop his smile. “Cut me again. That tickled.” At her glare, he lifted a shoulder. “Do you think this is worse than where I’ve been? I spent years flying in and out of hostile territory. This was supposed to be a cushy gig and now you’ve all fucked it up. I’ll probably get executed with you.”

  “Don’t care,” Nyx said. She nicked his skin with the blade. “Tell me that cypher or I’ll slice open your throat.”

  “Ah, but if you do that, you’ll still be stuck right where you are, won’t you?” He shook his head. “It was pretty ballsy of you to go to Macella. The general will eventually figure out you’re traitors.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “At least you’d be dead.” She slid the blade down his throat until she reached one of the scars. “Or maybe I’ll add to this collection here.” There. A flicker in his gaze. “You’ve got a lot of scars for a pretty boy, pilot.”

  His jaw tightened. “So do a lot of people.”

  Eris said through the Pathos.

  Nyx almost smiled. “Rhea, you’ve seen him without a shirt. He just bragged about it. How far down do these scars go?”

  Rhea ignored Cato’s glare. “They cover almost his entire torso. Front and back.”

  “Front and back,” Nyx repeated. “Wow. Now, that had to hurt.” At his silence, Nyx almost smiled. “Come on, tell me about these scars, pilot. Couldn’t have got them flying. You’re from a military cohort. You get them on the field?”

  His breathing grew ragged, and Nyx bet that if she put a finger on his pulse, it’d be quickening. “Fuck. You.”

  “And you were being so pleasant before,” Nyx said. “I’ll bet you got these scars in a battle. Some of the easiest soldiers to torture are pilots. My commander always said they were too damn soft. Caved easily. Screamed like children.”

  Cato shook his head, his chest heaving with his breaths. “Shut up.”

  Eris said.

 

  “You want me to stop,” Nyx said, drawing closer, “then give me the cypher. Otherwise, maybe I’ll add to these scars. They don’t look like they’re from Mors.”

 

  “I said shut the fuck up.” Cato’s head snapped back and his pupils contracted. The Oracle’s coding was flooding his system with stress hormones. With a rough yell, he tore at the restraints and rocked his chair until he was on the floor. He slammed his head against the wall. “The God of Death, I kill for Thee. In Thy name I give
my body.” Slam. His forehead was bleeding. “In Thy name.” Slam.

  “Shit.” Nyx tackled him, but he bucked against her. She held him fast, shoving him to the floor. She had her knee in the middle of his back. “Some help would be nice! Rhea, get another blocker from the med center!”

  Rhea nodded. “On it.”

  “Ariadne.” Eris’s voice was calm behind Nyx. “Turn up the cooling system in here as high as it can go.”

  “But that’s—” The girl bit her lip. “It’ll kill you.”

  Eris didn’t look concerned. “Just do it.” Ariadne and Rhea left to do as she asked. It wasn’t long before there was a noticeable dip in the temperature. “Keep holding him, Nyx.”

  The pilot thrashed against her, murmuring a litany of Tholosian phrases. If he weren’t still weak from his injuries and restrained, Nyx would be a whole lot worse off.

  “What’s your plan?” Nyx asked Eris. The temperature kept dropping.

  “Wait. Try to save him from killing himself.” After a pause, she jerked her chin at Nyx. “How much were you made to endure in your training?”

  Nyx’s head snapped back, and she drove her knee harder into the pilot’s back as he bucked again. “What the fuck kind of question is that?”

  “Practical.” Eris’s breath was coming out in puffs of white. “It’s going to get very cold very fast.”

  “I can handle it.”

  Eris didn’t respond, just gestured to the pilot and said, “Flip him over. I need to see his pupils.”

  Nyx removed her knee and shoved him on his back. Cato growled low in his throat as he thrashed against her. Wham. His forehead struck hers. Son of a bitch.

  “For Tholos,” he was muttering. “For the Archon. For—”

  Nyx slammed her fist into his face and held him down again. Her movements grew uncoordinated. The cold numbed her fingers, her nose. She shook her head to clear it, but she was starting to shiver. Her lungs burned.

  Cato’s litanies had progressed to low groans as tremors wracked his body. He could barely speak through chattering teeth.

  “That’s it,” Eris murmured. She seemed unaffected by the cold. Who the fuck was this woman? “Only a little longer.”

  Nyx could barely breathe. “I c-c-can’t—”

  “I know.” Eris nodded once. “He’s stopped with the phrases. Look at his pupils. The Oracle’s programming is returning to background processing.”

  Nyx forced a blink. Her vision wavered. When she focused, she could see Cato’s pupils had slowed their contractions. He was still beneath her. She loosened her hold, huddling close to the wall. She brought her knees close to her body for warmth. How was Eris still functional?

  “Cato,” Eris said calmly.

  He moaned. He was so cold his teeth were no longer chattering.

  “Look at me.” Eris crouched in front of Cato, resting her elbows on her knees. She stared at him until he finally met her gaze. “I can make it stop, Cato.”

  “Wh-wh—”

  “I just need the cypher.” Eris’s voice had taken on a lilting, almost hypnotic quality. Or maybe that was the cold. Nyx thought she saw stars around the other woman. Fuck, Nyx was dizzy.

  “No,” Cato wheezed. “No.”

  “I can make you warm again. If you give me that cypher, I’ll set you off on some quiet, safe planet with no memory of this. All of it wiped. I can help you forget where your scars came from.”

  “You’re not— You can’t—”

  “I can. Wouldn’t you like to forget what caused you pain, Cato? You could start over somewhere else. If you decide to leave, I promise I can do that for you.”

  Did she know how cruel it was to dangle that promise in front of him, or did she not care? She wouldn’t keep it any more than Kyla had.

  “Yes.” Cato clutched at his clothes, gasping. “Y-y-y—”

  “The cypher, Cato.”

  He gasped out a string of random numbers, barely managing to get each one out. Nyx was lightheaded, her entire body numb. She wanted this to stop. She could barely think, and her eyes felt so heavy.

  “Did you get that, Ariadne?” Eris called.

  “Got it!” Her voice crackled on the comms.

  “Good. Turn the heat back up, please. Slowly.”

  Within a few moments, Nyx’s body pricked with needles as the feeling returned. Like hers, Cato’s breathing steadied.

  “Rhea’s here with the injection,” Ariadne said over the comm.

  Eris straightened and stared down at Cato. “Tell her to bring it here. Then we’ll take Cato to the medical center for deprogramming.”

  Cato jerked back. “That wasn’t in our deal.” His voice was still weak, shaky.

  Eris grinned. It was the first time Nyx had ever seen her smile when she wasn’t playing Zoe, and it was terrifying.

  “Oh, but it was,” Eris said lightly, stepping closer to him. “I told you that if you decide to leave, we’ll wipe your memory and let you go. For me, that means making your choice free of the Oracle’s influence.” When he looked too stunned to respond, Eris flashed her teeth again. “How about an incentive? You let Rhea and Ariadne deprogram you, and I won’t consider dropping you off somewhere that makes the cold we just went through seem like a walk around the palace grounds.”

  Without waiting for a response, Eris left the interrogation room.

  Cato was wide-eyed. “She is completely messed up.”

  “Yep,” Nyx said.

  “I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned.”

  “Both.” Nyx took in deep, painful breaths. Her lungs hurt so godsdamn much.

  Cato was still staring at the door. “Who the fuck is she?”

  Nyx had no idea, but she wanted to find out.

  35.

  ARIADNE

  Present day

  A few jumps from Macella, Eris tried to put a call to Nova headquarters. Ariadne watched as it beeped once and dropped. Eris tried again. And again.

  Nothing.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Clo said. “Everything is already marshed enough; what’s one more issue to add to the list?”

  “Focus on flying,” Eris snapped. “It’s probably just a sandstorm.”

  Ariadne trotted over. “Let me try. I might be able to boost the signal. Do you have coordinates?”

  After working with Kyla in secret for all those years, Ariadne knew Nova’s quadrant in the Iona Galaxy, but not the exact location. Her original plan after commandeering Zelus had been risky: set the navigation course and, once they were far enough from the heart of the Empire, hope Kyla would take a call from a Tholosian ship. Any contact and exchange of information back at the Temple would have been too dangerous. Ariadne hadn’t wanted to chance the Oracle finding the resistance.

  Eris reached past Ariadne and keyed in some numbers. “There.”

  Ariadne gave a low whistle. “Wow, that’s really far.” Nowhere near Ismara. On the outer reaches of the Iona Galaxy, just barely in the habitable zone of a G-type main-sequence star.

  “No kidding.” Eris gave a small smile. “It had to be as awful as Avern; otherwise, the Empire would be tracking it. I doubt they’re aware anything that far out in Iona is livable.”

  “It barely is,” Clo called out from the pilot’s chair. “The dust storms are miserable and you don’t know what hot is until you’ve been in that desert.”

  Ariadne frowned, ignoring Clo. Eris was right, the signal was bouncing off something. Really bad dust storm was an understatement. She tried again.

  “I hope you’re encrypting that,” Clo added.

  “What do I look like? An amateur?” Ariadne waved a dismissive hand and keyed in some code, her fingers moving rapidly across the keys. “Got it! Someone should be picking up any—”

  “Yes?” Commander Sher answer
ed, sounding distracted. His face appeared on the screen. He looked dusty and tired, his jumpsuit needed a good wash and press, but his eyes were still bright and sharp.

  “Finally,” Eris breathed, nudging Ariadne aside. “I’ve been trying to get through for ages. You having a dust storm?”

  “Good guess,” Sher said dryly. “Where’s Alesca?”

  Clo came over to wave at him on the screen.

  “Look at you!” Sher grinned at her. “You haven’t killed Eris and you’re still alive. Well done.”

  “I deserve a fluming medal,” Clo said. “Is Kyla there?”

  “Yeah. She’s dealing with damage to the eastern sector of headquarters. We’re getting battered in this storm.”

  “Everyone all right?”

  “Nothing we can’t handle.” Sher flicked a glance at Eris. “Report?”

  Eris passed over the intel Ariadne had gathered from hacking the Oracle. See? Ariadne wanted to tell the commander. You need me. You need me. I’m useful.

  “Ichor is obviously a weapon component, like we suspected,” Eris said. “If Damocles used it in a blaster, it would go clear through Evoli armor. The records at Macella indicated the ichor was originally stored on Ismara, so we’re following the trail to see if the outpost there has any logs that can give us an idea of what Damocles is up to.”

  On the other end, Ariadne heard a loud bang. Sher glanced to his left with a scowl. “Ismara’s an interesting choice,” he said, distractedly.

  “Why?” Clo asked.

  “There’s nothing there.” Sher returned his attention back to the screen. “The Tholosians mined everything they could, and the resources dried up years ago. It’s a ghost planet by all accounts.”

  “Then no one would think to look there,” Eris pointed out.

  “Fair point.” The banging continued, and Sher ran a hand through his hair. “Ping me when you get there. The Tholosian-Evoli truce talks are in three weeks, and if Damocles really is planning a coup, we need to know his plans. I’ll fill Kyla in.” They said their goodbyes and the signal cut out.

  Eris sighed, rubbing tired eyes.