by Natalie Grey
Everything about Koel made Crallus want to be anywhere but here. Ilia was the type of threat he could understand: cunning, cruel, ambitious.
Koel was something else entirely. Crallus couldn’t even guess at his motives. His power, however, showed in every movement he made. It wasn’t the sort of power that made Crallus want to challenge him, or even obey him.
Crallus just wanted to run. Preferably all the way to another universe where Koel didn’t exist. The very poor second option was to get as far away from here as he could and hope Koel’s reach never got long enough to find him.
“Uleq.” Koel swept forward, holding out his hands, and Uleq took them and stood.
“Father.” His eyes searched Koel’s face. “Why are you here?”
Koel smiled. “You do not plead for your life. I like that. My brave son. My proud son.”
Uleq could not hide his pleasure, but he looked down rather than meet his father’s gaze.
“You have always been of great use to me,” Koel said. He smiled at Uleq as he spoke.
Crallus watched the two of them silently. Something was wrong here…
“I am glad to have been of use.” Uleq had found his voice at last, though it was rusty. “I hope…I will continue to be of use.”
His father only smiled at him, rather than answer the question that hung in words: will you have me executed? Your own son?
“Ilia was a fine heir,” his father said. “I could tell from the start. She is strong-willed and intelligent. She does not let paltry morals concern her. From the moment I held her in my arms, I knew she would be a fine legacy.”
Uleq said nothing. His jaw clenched, and a muscle jumped in his cheek.
“And then you were born,” Koel continued. “She was jealous of my love because both she and I knew what you could be.”
Uleq kept his head down, but Crallus could feel how much he wanted to look up. When Uleq had spoken about how much he hated his father, Crallus had not pictured this. That Uleq would kill Koel if given opportunity, he had no doubt.
But it was clear, also, that Uleq worshipped this man. If he killed Koel, it would only be an attempt to take his father’s place.
Crallus didn’t know what to make of that.
“Once Ilia knew she had a rival, she became determined to eliminate you.” Koel sounded amused. “She tried to kill you that first night, did you know?”
“Yes,” Uleq said evenly. “She told me.”
Koel threw back his head and laughed. “She would.”
Even Uleq was smiling somewhat, and Crallus looked between the two of them with wide eyes. What was going on here? What sort of family was this? He and his brothers had hated each other at times. They had always competed to be the favorite. But all their fist fights and petty little tricks had never been designed to do anything more than knock a few teeth loose.
“I knew if Ilia could not control her hatred of you, she would not be a fitting heir,” Koel confessed. “There was nothing more important to her. I had to know that she was not going to…lose her head. My heir must be strong, not just against others, but against their own poorer nature.”
Uleq looked up now, and Crallus saw the hope that the younger male tried to tamp down. Does this mean you’ve deposed Ilia? Does this mean I will inherit, that I won’t die here?
“And she has done so,” Koel said finally. “I expected you to be dead by the time I got here. She told me how you had failed us. I put your fate in her hands and waited to see what she would do. She wanted you dead…but she waited.” He nodded. “She will, indeed, be a fitting heir.”
“But—” Uleq’s voice broke.
“You have served a great purpose,” Koel expressed. “This test did not simply prove Ilia’s worthiness, it made her more worthy. Trials make us stronger, do they not?”
“Father, do not—”
“Trials make us stronger, Uleq, do they not?”
“Yes, Father.” Uleq swallowed.
“And she has one more trial.” Koel nodded to himself, his eyes distant. “She hates you, of course, but she also loves you. Having stood strong against her hatred, she must now face the trial of killing you. Only when she has resisted both sides of her weakness will she secure her place.”
“Father.”
“You have helped to build this legacy,” Koel said. “The Yennai Corporation will flourish because of your service.”
Uleq’s mouth hung open. “You cannot… You came here…” His face set. “You came here to gloat! To tell me that I’d lost.”
“To tell you that you have made something that was already great, into something greater.” His father’s smile was sincere and, as far as Crallus could tell, entirely mad. The older Torcellan actually believed, he saw now, that Uleq should be grateful to die to make Ilia more ruthless.
Crazy fucking bastard. Crallus stared at him, totally frozen in shock. He had served some of the worst people in the universe…he thought. He had become inured to all the cruel things people could do to one another…he thought.
He’d known absolutely nothing. He could see that now.
“I love you very much,” Koel said to Uleq. He kissed his son on the forehead. “Die in peace, Uleq. You have been everything I hoped for in a son, and more.”
He left without another word, and only when the door closed did Uleq move. He slumped to his knees on the floor, swaying. “He…”
Crallus shook himself, startled out of his daze. He cursed himself. He should have tackled Koel over the edge of the Overlook. What had he been thinking? For the first time, he understood the speeches he’d heard from their human nemesis.
Some evil should just be removed.
“I’ll make him sorry,” Uleq said now. His eyes were still distant as he began to laugh. He laughed and laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. “I’ll make him sorry. I’ll steal everything from him.”
It’s over, Crallus wanted to say. There’s no way we can win now.
But he didn’t know how to speak to Uleq over the sound of this crazed laughter, so Crallus only sat down near the buzzing sound of the reactor and tried not to think of anything at all.
Koel strode through the hallways of the base with a smile. He could not have asked for more from his children.
One of them had always had to die, of course. That was just the way of things. Only a foolish leader would leave more than one heir to rip the organization apart by dividing people’s loyalties.
Uleq was enough his son that he would always fight for control, of course.
And Koel meant what he said. The fight had made Ilia stronger. Uleq had performed a vital service for the future of the organization.
He was surprised to see Ilia waiting for him at the launchpad. “Daughter.”
“Father.” She smiled. “You’re leaving so soon.”
“I have matters to attend to. I will look forward to hearing word of your victory.” He smiled at her so she would be sure to see the compliment in his implicit assumption.
“Ah.” She looked vaguely disappointed.
“What is it?”
“I wanted…to show you the AI core.” She smiled at him. “This will give us a new form of control over the humans—and over many other governments, I am sure. I wanted you to be here when we first saw its capabilities.”
Koel’s brows went up. She was right; it would be a very satisfying moment.
“I shall come back, then,” he said. “Send word when you have it.”
Her smile was a tiny echo of his, cold and self-satisfied. “I will. Goodbye, Father.”
Zinqued whistled as their ship came within viewing range of the Yennai fleet. Carriers, destroyers, and a series of frigates hung in a dazzling array. From the charge in their engines, they had only just reached the rendezvous point themselves.
There was a fuzz of sound, then the displays on their screens were replaced by a Torcellan male’s face. His hair was worn in an elaborate set of braids, and he looked very self-important
in a deep blue uniform that accented his silvery skin.
“Which one of you is Zinqued?”
“Me.” Zinqued nodded to him.
The Torcellan did not look impressed. “I am Wirav. We will be bringing your ships to the base, as you were told.”
He gave a small gesture to someone off screen, and several of the ships moved to take up position, each hovering over one of the mercenary ships. Tow rods extended and began to lock onto the ships.
A moment later, the electronics all flickered on Zinqued’s ship.
“We’ve lost location tracking,” Paun reported worriedly.
“Yes.” Wirav looked unmoved. “The location of the base is not something you should concern yourself with. We will proceed there, you will do your job, and you will be compensated before we tow you back to this point. Are there any questions?”
Zinqued shook his head, and the screens went dark again.
“I don’t like this,” Paun repeated, and despite himself, Zinqued found himself agreeing.
He looked over, troubled. “Neither do I. But there’s no backing out now, is there?”
“No,” Paun said finally. “Not anymore.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“We’re coming up on their fleet,” Shinigami reported.
“How many ships?” Barnabas asked curiously as he rolled his neck and swung his arms.
He’d told Gar that a proper warmup was very important. Gar, however, could think of nothing more than leaping out of the ship and immediately dispensing his kung-fu moves. He’d get halfway through a warmup exercise, get lost in thought, then flail with pent-up energy.
Barnabas gave him an amused look.
“Didn’t you ever get really excited to beat people up?” Gar demanded.
“No,” Barnabas said.
“Like hell,” Shinigami snapped. “I saw your vital signs when you were staring down Lan. You wanted to turn that fucker into paste.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Barnabas replied loftily. “And focus, Shinigami. Ships?”
“I can’t see them yet. I assume we’ll be in sensor range in—WHOA. Whoa, damn. They have a fleet.”
“What does that mean?” Barnabas stopped moving, halfway through sliding one of his knives into its sheath. He looked up at the speakers. “Shinigami? Break off if you need to. We’ll find—”
“One moment.” The artificial female voice was back, and a moment later, smooth jazz came over the speakers. “Thank you for your patience. We look forward to taking your call.”
Barnabas rolled his eyes and finished sheathing the knife.
“Any idea where in this base Ilia will be?” Jeltor sounded curious. “Do you think she and Uleq will be in the same place?”
“Uleq may already be dead,” Barnabas pointed out. “If your intel is correct.”
“My gut tells me that it is,” Jeltor said confidently.
Barnabas tried to refrain from asking which part of Jeltor was his gut, and how that was distinguishable from any other part. He was about to break down and mention it when Shinigami saved him by coming back over the speakers.
“Okay, here’s the deal, lads.”
“You are not calling us that.”
“No? ‘Shinigami’s Lads.’ I like it. In any event, lads, I looked at their communications, and I found the strangest thing. One might wonder, who are they waiting for with so many ships? Did they think we were bringing friends? What’s going on here? Don’t worry, your fearless leader has the answers.”
“You’re our fearless leader?” Barnabas questioned. “Really? You?”
“Don’t make me prove it. I will do so.” She paused for effect. “Anyway. They are, in fact, just waiting for us, and they’re planning to make a big show of missing us with missiles, not quite trapping us. We’re supposed to think that we made it into the asteroid just because we're so good at flying, and…yeah. Not sure what their plan is from there.”
“I mean…” Gar looked at Barnabas and Jeltor as if he thought this might be a trick question of some sort. “Presumably, some sort of trap, yes?”
“Well, yes. But what kind of trap?”
“The kind where they try to take the ship without damaging it at all, while presumably also dealing with me,” Barnabas asserted. “Which means overwhelming force, likely drawing me away from the ship so they can get to you.” Barnabas paused and looked around. “Do your strategic algorithms say the same thing?”
Shinigami grumbled.
Barnabas raised an eyebrow.
“All right, that was a more complete assessment than I expected, with more solid reasoning than I expected.” She sounded grumpy. “So, what do we do about that?”
“Well, I don’t want to tell you how to run your life,” Barnabas said, grinning as he finished putting his greaves in place. He stood. “But I’d suggest that this would be an excellent time for you to use that flamethrower.”
There was such a long silence that Barnabas, Jeltor, and Gar all looked at one another in worry. When Shinigami finally spoke, her voice practically shook with excitement.
“Hell. Fucking. Yes.”
“The ship has appeared, and we are beginning our firing sequence.” Wirav’s face was tight with displeasure. “They are evading all of this more easily than they should.”
“What does that mean?” Ilia, walking quickly toward the landing bays where the mercenary ships were being offloaded, stopped so suddenly that some of her guards nearly ran into her. She stared into the communications unit, glaring at Wirav. “I told you they were not to be—”
“I know. You also said they were to believe they had done all of this through their own skill, which means we have to make enough of an effort that they think we’re trying.” He sounded like he very much wanted to yell at her. “It would have been better not to have the whole fleet here,” he added. “Now we run the risk of—”
“Excuses?” Ilia asked coldly. “Speaking doubts in front of your captains so that if you fail, you can blame me for your own incompetence, Admiral?”
Wirav fell silent, flushing.
Finally, he started again. “What I was saying is that this ship is far more maneuverable and responsive than it should be. I know of no species that can pilot this well.” His voice was ugly, twisted with his hatred, but he kept it quiet, at least. He did not look at Ilia.
Don’t worry, Wirav. We won’t have to put up with one another for much longer.
“Perhaps it is being piloted by the AI,” Ilia suggested. “Did you think of that?”
His head jerked up, and he stared at her. “Who in their right mind would trust an AI to fly a heavily-armed ship?”
“The Etheric Empire.” Had he not been paying attention to any of this?
“And you want to let this thing onto your station?”
“We can manage it,” Ilia snapped. “We have hundreds of mercenaries. We can partition and disconnect the AI core. This plan has been approved. Do your piece of it.”
She disconnected the call and swept into the main hangar bay.
The mercenaries noticed her, their interest showing in a ripple across the room. One of the Hieto forged his way through the crowd to stand in front of her, and she recognized him as Zinqued.
She smiled brilliantly. One of her father’s earliest lessons had been to smile as if every person you spoke to was your most treasured ally. “Zinqued. It is good to meet you.”
“And you.” He nodded deeply, almost a bow.
He was reserved. She only just kept her eyes from narrowing. He was not pleased to be here.
“Tell me, do you have any questions for me?” She drew him aside, away from his compatriots. Let him speak freely. She would acknowledge his concerns and make him think that he was heard.
It cost her nothing to pretend.
But he only smiled. “No questions,” he said. He pointed to the exits that she had predetermined. “We will have one-third of the forces hide within each of those hallways, w
hile my team remains in place on the hanging platform. Once the pilot and crew have been drawn down one of the hallways, they will be attacked, and a second group will cut off their escape. The third group will wait in reserve unless they are called for.”
Ilia approved. It met her criteria for dealing with enemies—show overwhelming force, and weaken their resolve as new waves showed up every time they battled their way through. It was always best to make the enemy lose heart.
“Good,” she said. “I will remain in my offices. Let me know when you have captured the ship.”
Missiles streaked nearby, and the Shinigami wove through the spread easily.
Now that she knew the fleet’s plan, it was easy to pretend that Shinigami believed this was an attack. She would hold her responses so that some missiles came close, and she made a point of jerking the ship out of the way awkwardly at times as if she hadn’t noticed some missile or another.
But between her scanners, her reflexes, and the fact that they weren’t really trying to shoot her down, she could have done this in her sleep.
Everything going well? Barnabas asked from the shuttle bay.
Shinigami watched as each destroyer disgorged another spread of missiles. She would have shaken her head if she had one. With the Boreir Group done, these ships really shouldn’t be wasting so many missiles.
Then again, they wouldn’t last long enough for that to matter. She chuckled to herself.
Yes, everything is going well. Here’s the kicker: so our cloaking doesn’t hide us from them perfectly, but what it does do is mess with their missile targeting. We’re too visible on the one hand, and not quite visible enough on the other. You gotta love it, really. With a surge of inspiration, she charted a path that wove between the missiles and left them colliding with one another. It’s a pity you can’t see this as I can. It’s amazing.
Indeed. Between you and Tafa, I’ve become aware that human sensory systems are quite lacking. He sounded amused.