Seven Devils

by Laura Lam

  “Yes.” Eris didn’t hesitate. A soldier’s ruthless response.

  “Fine, then,” Clo said, sounding not remotely fucking fine. “We do this without Nova.”

  Eris nodded once. She turned to Cato. “Update me on the body. Anything we should know?”

  Cato had gone back into the mine’s medical center and retrieved Commander Talley’s body in an airtight body bag. It had been brought on board, quarantined in one of the unused crew quarters that Ariadne had turned into a makeshift lab. With the air vents sealed off, Cato examined the body in a full suit after resting from his deprogramming session. Nyx had heard Eris snapping orders at him through the comms.

  After a few tense hours, he joined the others waiting in the command center for news. The scent of disinfectant still clung to him.

  Cato let out a slow breath and scratched his cheek. “A few observations,” he said. “The endospore found in the ichor is pretty impressive from a biological-warfare standpoint. When I opened Commander Talley up, deterioration had spread to his lungs—a result of breathing in the spores. Frankly, I’m shocked he lived long enough to speak to you.”

  “And they experimented on how to transmit this illness more quickly on those other planets,” Ariadne added. “I showed Cato the files, and we came up with a theory.” She nodded at him, encouraging.

  “If the ichor were ground up and pressurized into a gas, the endospores would cover large areas very quickly. It’d kill a lot of people very fast.” Though Cato’s voice remained steady, Nyx caught the flicker of anger in his features. He was at the part of his deprogramming where he found it difficult to hide his emotions. The Oracle wasn’t there to numb them, wasn’t there to run the code that told him this was all for the glory of Tholos. The haze of coded loyalty was gone.

  Get used to it, soldier, Nyx thought. Having choices wasn’t easy.

  “Great,” Clo muttered.

  “Oh, it gets worse,” Cato said. “Ariadne and I think—think—that the version of ichor the Tholosians experimented with in the labs can be spread by close contact rather than a one-off illness caught through the lungs. They’re engineering a godsdamn plague.”

  Eris made some soft noise. “So, if Damocles wanted to conquer an Evoli planet . . .”

  “They’d be fucked. He’d have it within hours.”

  Nyx swore softly. There were a million Evoli on Laguna, and more would be arriving for that truce ceremony—thousands of Tholosian citizens among them. All they had to do was release a gas and watch the chaos.

  And if it got back to the Karis Galaxy—and the Evoli home planet, Eve—Damocles would end up killing them within weeks. Every Evoli eradicated. Their planets empty and ripe for the taking. The Tholosians’ food problems solved and a new galaxy to claim for their own.

  Just another Tholosian conquest.

  Clo looked ill. She squeezed Rhea’s hand. “But there will be Tholosians there, too, won’t there? Would it spread to them just the same? Even Damocles?”

  Rhea lowered her lashes. “The first thing Damocles would have done is to develop an antidote for himself and the most important people there. Avern, maybe he even invited some higher ups to Laguna as a tidy way to assassinate them. As for the others?” She sighed. “He would have weighed his options, called them sacrifices to build a better Empire. The God of Death takes before He gives.”

  Nyx recalled her games of zatrikion with Damocles. Nothing mattered to him more than power and winning. The lives of any Tholosian citizens caught in the balance would be worth the price. After all, the God of Death did not discriminate. Evoli or Tholosian, souls were souls. They all weighed the same.

  “Damocles is already expecting Zoe to return with improved specs for Clo’s weapon,” Eris said. She shook her head and gave a soft swear. “I’ll try and charm more information out of him and come up with an excuse to take the weapon back for testing. Then we’ll see if there’s a way to neutralize the ichor.”

  “If you’re right about a leak within the Novantae,” Rhea said, “then Damocles will be more careful. He may not give up information about the ichor if he suspects someone is onto his plan.”

  “Another Impossible to Infiltrate job.” Eris locked eyes with Clo. “My favorite. Cato, can you isolate the compound? Find out how it’s different to the original spores?”

  Cato hesitated. “Not exactly my expertise, but I can try. No promises.”

  Ariadne grinned. “Cato, look at you! You’re like a pilot medical expert badass!”

  The pilot’s expression went vague. “Yeah. Except that I don’t know where one of those things came from.”

  “The Oracle tampers with memories sometimes. Or maybe you have a glitch in programming that gives you medical knowledge! I could open your skull up to—”

  “No.” Cato put his hands up. “Absolutely not.”

  Nyx’s lip lifted. “What? You afraid she’d cut open that big head and find a rodent in a spinning wheel instead of a brain?”

  Cato glared.

  Ariadne, ignoring this, considered Cato. “Since you’ve chosen our side you can be on our team now. We still need a team name.” She tapped her lower lip with a finger. “It’ll come to me.”

  The pilot ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m still fighting against this voice in my head that says I ought to turn you all in. But I can’t pretend I didn’t see that shit back on Ismara.” He gestured to the door. “By all accounts, that Tholosian commander I just dissected was loyal. They still left him there to die.”

  I get it, Nyx wanted to say. She wanted to tell him about the times she pulled the trigger and she wasn’t sure the Tholosian on the other end deserved it. But she never questioned. She followed orders. Played the good soldier. The Oracle’s voice in her head made it so simple to block out the questions and the doubts.

  Then she’d met Rhea, and she saw the other woman’s bruises, and she couldn’t pretend anymore.

  Rhea approached the pilot and held out her hands. Though her skin had lost the Evoli-like fractals revealed on Ismara, Cato still flinched away. “May I?”

  Cato let out a dry laugh. “Don’t trust me?”

  “You just admitted you were still tempted to turn us in, and your hands are no longer tied,” Rhea pointed out. “This is a precaution. It’s not personal.”

  After a hesitation, Cato gave a small nod. Rhea placed her hands on his stubbled cheeks and closed her eyes.

  Cato flinched.

  Rhea’s fingers pressed firmly to his skin. “I know. I know this freaks you out,” she said. “You don’t have to be ashamed, Cato. You’re making a choice to help now. That matters.” Rhea released him and stepped back. “We all have pasts in the Empire we’re atoning for.”

  Nyx still couldn’t help but feel shame too. All of them had to admit the ways in which they were complicit. Programming or not, they participated. They helped. They were small but important parts of the Empire. There was no forgetting. No forgiving.

  “I don’t want to atone,” Nyx said, surprising herself. “I want to destroy the Empire.”

  Clo’s hands closed into fists. “Yes.”

  The others nodded.

  “Then we do it together,” Eris said, gazing at each of them in turn. “Planet by planet. We burn the Empire down.”

  43.

  ERIS

  Present day

  Eris hoped this was the last time she ever had to become Zoe. It would be a relief to finally put the arms merchant to rest for good. She hated looking at the shifter mask she wore, the carefully braided hairstyle, the clothes that were meant to draw attention.

  The loose, airy dress that showed more skin than she was comfortable putting on display. Everything Zoe wore was for show: gold shimmer glistened across her eyelids, contrasting with deep black lipstick; her few makeshift weapons: the little jeweled rings on her fingers, sharp enou
gh to do damage, a hair stick plated in gold that could puncture a vulnerable throat.

  Eris stared at the thin metal tips of her rings and imagined ramming one into her brother’s eye.

  No. She had to keep him alive for information.

  For now.

  Zoe was a role she had taken over when she had less of a conscience, an extension of General Discordia without the expectations and the rules that had governed her behavior as Heir to the Archon. It had been easier when she let her anger and grief for Xander consume her—it had still been so raw, so new.

  Being cold, heartless Zoe Eirene-X-2 didn’t come easily anymore.

  One final time, she told herself.

  Eris turned her back on the mirror. Her gaze landed on Xander’s small firewolf carving—the only thing on the table beside her bunk. She ran her fingers over the small figure.

  “I’m doing my best, Xander,” she whispered. “I wish you were here with me.”

  But she couldn’t even bring her talisman with her. Zoe’s clothes wouldn’t allow it. No fucking pockets.

  With a sigh, Eris returned the firewolf to the table and left for the command center. Clo didn’t speak as Eris took her seat in the copilot’s chair. The silence from the other woman reminded her of those days after their last mission, when their relationship had fractured as irreparably as Clo’s leg.

  Eris had hidden so much from Clo. She wondered how different their last mission would have gone if she had been upfront about who she was. Maybe it would have changed nothing.

  Maybe it would have changed everything.

  “The person I lost . . . his name was Xander,” Eris said, not returning Clo’s look. She took a deep breath before continuing. “He was one of my brothers, but he was different from the rest. Kinder, more compassionate. The way he died . . .” She couldn’t finish. “You asked me if I’d be willing to kill Damocles, and I want you to know: if I get the chance to put a blast through his head, I’m taking it.”

  Clo nodded once. They went past the Three Sisters’s checkpoint and waited in the queue for clearance into the royal palace’s airspace.

  “Be careful,” Clo said finally, gazing down at Macella as they waited for security clearance. “Zelus is getting indications that the Oracle’s security on Tholosian planets has increased in preparation for the truce ceremony.”

  “You’re concerned about me?”

  Clo pressed her lips together.

  Eris almost smiled. She’d take that as a yes.

  Rhea entered the command center and approached the captain’s chair. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come along instead of Ariadne?” she asked Eris. “I can keep the soldiers calmer and more acquiescent.”

  Ariadne and Nyx, back in their servitor disguises, were the only ones accompanying her. They had to do this fast, without complications. Fewer people were less of a risk.

  Eris shook her head. “I don’t want to risk Damocles recognizing your abilities.”

  “It’s just that Ari’s nervous,” Rhea confided in a whisper. “With the Oracle on high alert . . .”

  “I need Ariadne there because the Oracle is on high alert. She’s the only one who can get around One’s security mechanisms.”

  Clo’s eyebrows went up. “You sound like you’re expecting trouble.”

  “I’m always expecting trouble. That’s what makes me good at my job.” She glanced at the monitors. “They’re giving you permission to land.”

  Clo followed the air lanes down to the same hangar they’d gone through before. She wisely made sure to dock near the exit. It was busier this time, with merchants and suppliers ferrying supplies for the peace talks. All was the bustle of gerulae and mechanics scurrying along the ships like worker ants. Cogs in the greater machine.

  Eris tried to stay focused as they followed the security guards up to the palace, Ariadne and Nyx flanking. Eris stared at the soldiers. They would obey no matter how abhorrent their orders. If Damocles told them to shoot all three women in the head, they wouldn’t hesitate.

  For the glory of Tholos, they believed.

  Even though she’d been there recently, it still felt strange for Eris to breathe in the air of a planet she had once considered home. It was impossible to describe, yet it was so familiar, she’d recognize it anywhere. It was fresher, greener than the stifling-hot air of Nova. Sometimes, she missed the gentle scent: the trees swaying in the wind, the cool air coming off the distant sea. Nova demanded too much. It wasn’t for the weak. And sometimes, in her quiet moments working with the resistance, she pretended she was right back here: in the palace square, breathing in the scent of sea salt.

  That grand palace rising above them, made up of the bones of creatures her forefathers had slaughtered, was a symbol of everything this Empire stood for. Everything they worshiped. Letum, Bel, Rem, Salutem, Phobos, Algea, and Soter. Death, War, Honor, Survival, Fear, Agony, and Salvation. The glory of the Empire and sacrificing to their gods were all that mattered. She couldn’t let herself forget.

  “Negotiare?” The guard’s voice made Eris jump. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped.

  Ariadne’s voice sounded through the Pathos:

  Eris straightened her shoulders as she followed the guard once more.

  Nyx muttered.

  Eris was surprised when the guard led her to the private wing of the palace. The compound had changed so little since she had left. The same shining floors with no speck of dirt. The walls carved with scenes of their many conquests, offerings to the Gods of Death and War. The views from the portholes and the particular tinge of purple entered the overhead lights this time of day, to better complement the coming twilight. How could she still miss a place so horrible, that had caused so much pain?

  She risked a short prayer to Letum herself, for despite everything, Death was her patron. Her fingers automatically went to her throat but found only the delicate gold chain of something Zoe would wear, rather than her scythes.

  The gods would not help her there.

  The guards posted outside Damocles’s room snapped to attention as she approached. “General Damocles is expecting her,” Eris’s escort said.

  The one to her left spoke in a rough, firm voice. “Just her, then.” He gestured to Nyx and Ariadne. “These two can wait in the Star Rise Room.”

  Eris had expected this. With the tightened security, no unnecessary detail came in or out of these rooms.

  “Of course,” Eris said pleasantly. She took the case with the schematics from Nyx. “Don’t annoy the nice guards, ladies.”

  Ariadne said.

  As Ariadne and Nyx were escorted away, the doors slid open.

  Damocles sat at a table laden with food. Eris sucked in a breath at the sight of it all, but she schooled her features into polite interest. There were so many delicacies she hadn’t been able to eat since she’d fled this planet. Piles of sugar pears glistening in the soft light. The long, thin tendrils of the Mussuma fruit cut into perfect rounds, its violet flesh begging to be eaten. There was no rehydrated protein in sight. Fresh meat, creamy cheese, skewered meats, freshly baked bread. All foods that would go into rationing now that their resources on Charon were devastated.

  Unless, of course, Tholosians were able to access the Evoli planets—by either truce or death.

  Eris couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

  The room itself was similar to her old quarters. Gigantic bed with a canopy of the royal arms. A chandelier of twisting, shifting holographic lights mirroring the colors of the sunset outside. Smooth walls and floors softened with rugs of living, russet-colored grass. Everything was tasteful, expensive. Completely devoid of Damocles’s actual preferences and personality. Eris doubted he spent much time there at all, except to sleep.
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  “General,” Eris said. “How lovely to see you again. And in a much quieter setting.”

  Damocles stood and Eris bowed as etiquette demanded. It smarted to bare the back of her neck to him. If she hadn’t abandoned her true rank, he would have had to bow to her. She could almost feel that ghost next to her—the person she would have been if she hadn’t left it all behind.

  Her brother studied her. “You look dressed for a ball, Zoe. I should have mentioned I preferred for us to meet in private.”

  Eris knew he had done that on purpose. To unnerve her, throw her off balance. It was a show of power—nothing more, nothing less. “General, I think you’ll find I’m always slightly overdressed,” she said with a laugh. “I’m an arms dealer with expensive tastes. I like to be the fanciest woman in the room if I can.” She threw him a smile and turned to the large windows. “I see you didn’t exaggerate your description of this view the last time we met. I don’t know how you manage to get anything done with a sight like that.”

  How long since she had seen a sunset on Macella? The whole world looked blue, purple, and orange. The mists lay over the ground, the skyscrapers and mountains peeking above and touching the sun as it dipped toward the horizon. Above, the two moons of Macella glimmered, half-full. The bright twinkling planets of Tholos and the smaller Agora, the other two Sisters, were visible in the sky. She hadn’t realized she could feel homesickness standing right at the heart of her old home.

  “Easy,” he said, coming up behind her. “I’m usually on Tholos, and I don’t work in here. It’s too much of a distraction.”

  “Smart man.”

  “I like to be the smartest man in the room,” he said, mimicking Zoe’s accent.

  He was too confident, and she needed him more unnerved. He was impulsive when he was emotional; he tended to reveal too much.

  “Humble, too,” she said smoothly. “One would never have thought you originally the—” When his expression hardened, Eris stopped talking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”