by Anna Carven
Irritation coursed through Enki. Arrogant noble. He thought he had some sort of leverage here? Yes, it was important to retrieve the Callidum weapons Relahek had foolishly sold into alien hands, but that would have to wait. Did Relahek not understand that once they were on Silence, Zharek al Sirian could pump him full of truth drugs and scrape the information from right inside the walls of his thick skull anyway—if Enki didn’t torture it out of him first?
“Luron Alerak,” he said softly, a sense of terrible urgency thrumming through his veins. “How do you communicate with him?”
“It’s actually easier than you might think. Just promise me one thing, soori.” Relahek actually had the nerve to call him soori—the derogatory term for a commoner. It was, and always had been, a word used exclusively by nobles. But then he shook his head, offering a half-shrug. “Tch. No, I shouldn’t be calling you that. Which cursed bloodline did they pluck you from? You have the look of our people.”
He was referring to the nobility, of course, and he was right. The slight tilt to the eyes, the stark white hair, the sharp facial features, the skin tone—a deeper, darker shade of silver. The differences were subtle, but all noble-born males had a certain look about them that only other Kordolians could identify.
Enki knew he had the look, but he couldn’t give a shit about bloodlines or inheritances or obsolete social hierarchies.
The Empire was dead, and he knew exactly what he was. Right now, he didn’t have time for this shit.
He had to find the human.
He had given her his word. Even if everything else in the Universe went to shit, his promises had to count for something, otherwise what was the point of it all?
My name is Layla.
The sound of her soft, desperate voice echoed in his memory, and once again, the Tharian stirred.
Upon seeing his hesitation, Relahek laughed. That low, smug chuckle did something to Enki. It infuriated him.
Enough.
How dare this lordling laugh when the female who was supposed to be under Enki’s protection was probably detained onboard the Ristval V, suffering at the mercy of Daegan’s depraved research unit?
They would experiment on her.
A naive, soft-skinned human.
She would be forced to endure the same torture Enki and his First Division brothers had endured for so many cycles.
And this clueless bastard just laughed.
Enki snapped.
Grabbing Relahek by his long hair, he slammed him against the wall, his claws extending until they dug into the noble’s scalp. Blood seeped through Relahek’s pale hair, painting it with streaks of black.
He pressed his blade against the noble’s cheek, just beneath his eye. “The only thing I can promise you is that if you tell me what I want to know right now, I won’t kill you.”
Make him suffer.
Taking advantage of the crack in Enki’s self-control, the Tharian emerged again, riding the wave of his anger. To Enki’s shock, his body moved, and this time it wasn’t his doing. The Tharian had seized control.
His knife wavered, cutting into Relahek’s cheek, making the lordling bleed.
“If you have to hurt me, can you please not go for the face?” The noble’s voice cracked as his features twisted in agony. “There are plenty of options below the neck… and uh, above the hips, if you would be so kind.”
If not for Enki’s hard-wired training, the Tharian would have made him slam the blade through Relahek’s eye socket, right up into his brain, but Enki fought hard, commanding it to stay.
Relahek had no idea how close he was to death right now.
Blood trickled over Enki’s bare fingers, and his nanites writhed to the surface, gleefully absorbing the bitter liquid. The scent of blood drove the Tharian wild, and it twisted and bucked and writhed, trying to regain control of Enki’s body.
And for a moment it succeeded, because for once, the Tharian’s anger was greater than Enki’s.
It was the fury of one who had lost everything, who lived only for revenge.
A vortex opened up inside him.
What the fuck is happening to me?
Relahek dropped, slithering out of Enki’s grasp, away from the edge of his blade. He held his hand up to his cheek, staring at Enki in outrage. “That’s going to leave a hell of a scar, assuming you’re going to let me live.”
Enki—the Tharian—caught him by his long, silken hair, violently yanking the noble’s head back. “Don’t move, Kordolian filth.” For the first time, it spoke through his mouth, his throat, his lips, distorting his voice into a deep echo.
Oh, no you don’t. How dare it assume control of his voice? For a heartbeat, Enki flailed inside his own body as panic set in. He was a supreme warrior, trained to push his enhanced body to the limits of control, always walking that fine line between cold purpose and savagery.
All of that was meaningless now.
He felt the Tharian’s triumph as it threw Relahek to the floor, as it stood over the noble, filled with the burning desire to kill.
First, I’ll cut his eyes out.
The Kordolian nobility had destroyed its people, and Relahek was the symbol of everything it despised.
A perfect target.
Enki watched in horror as his own arm reached out, grabbing Relahek by the neck, lifting him up. The noble choked, his face turning dark.
And then something strange happened.
The Tharian extended itself, flowing through his arm into Relahek’s body, and all of a sudden, he felt Relahek’s will.
What in Kaiin’s hells is this?
Filled with newfound power, the Tharian laughed inside his head.
Exultant.
Triumphant.
Bastard. Enki recoiled in horror, and at last, the failsafe mechanism of cycles upon cycles of brutal training slammed home. This body is not yours to take.
He pushed against the Tharian with the full force of his will. He cleared his mind the way he’d been taught, forcing his hammering heartbeat into a steady rhythm.
Yield.
Slowly but surely, he bent the Tharian to his will, crushing it.
Demanding its submission.
And all of a sudden, his mind went silent again, and he was back in control.
Good.
His hand relaxed, and he released Relahek from his grasp. The noble slumped to the floor, gasping. “Wh-what the hell are you, monster?”
For a moment, Enki could only stare at him, not entirely sure of the answer. “Exactly that,” he said finally. Slowly, he lowered his arm, realizing he was standing over the noble with his dagger poised.
“Anything but the fucking face,” Relahek whispered, pressing his fingers against his bleeding cheek. Impossibly, the bastard summoned a deranged half-smile. Was there anything he took seriously in this life? “You really don’t know how scary you looked just now, do you? I don’t know what they’ve done to you, but—”
“Shut up,” Enki grated, not liking the fact that Relahek had seen the lapse in his self control, had caught a glimpse of the Tharian—a side of him that he’d rather keep under wraps until he figured it out. “If I decide to let you live, you will not tell a single soul about this,” he hissed. “What do you choose, Alerak? Life, or death?”
Relahek shakily rose to his knees and studied Enki carefully, For the first time, there was real fear in his eyes. For a moment, the only sound that could be heard was the shallow, uneven rasp of his breathing.
Then his shoulders slumped.
“I’ll tell you everything,” he said, and the cynical mask fell away, revealing a man who was utterly spooked. “J-just don’t do that to me ever again.” He pushed his long hair away from his left ear and tilted his head, revealing a network of fine black threads embedded in the skin behind his ear. “I have a permanent comm,” he said quietly. “Luron has one too. It’s a House thing.”
“Ah.” Grappling with the aftermath of the Tharian’s disruption, Enki eyed the modif
ication with renewed hope. “And he can be traced.”
“Your tech people could probably figure it out. Goddess knows you have the resources. Last time I spoke to him, he was lurking around on the Ristval V, hiding behind Uncle Daegan. He’s shit-scared of this post-Imperial Universe, you know.”
And there it was.
A lead.
The exact opening he’d been hoping for.
Layla’s lifeline came in the form of a spineless noble who would betray his own flesh and blood out of spite.
The irony wasn’t lost on Enki as he flexed his fingers and put the knife away, making sure he was fully in control of his body again.
And for the first time in longer than he could remember, he was on the verge of actually volunteering for a mission, because really, who else amongst them could infiltrate the Ristval V without being recognized? Perhaps the Silent One—with his monstrous ability to manipulate ka’qui and become invisible—but Ashrael was back on Earth, and technically, the Silent One wasn’t in the employ of the Darkstar Corporation.
Unlike Ashrael, Enki didn’t possess the gift of invisibility, but he knew how to hide in plain sight, and he knew how to infiltrate.
He would find a way to break into the Ristval V, and if they didn’t let him leave with the human—his human—he would simply kill every last one of them.
The passenger in his mind wholeheartedly agreed.
Chapter Seven
They led her down dark corridors, into the bowels of a huge ship that seemed more creature than machine; a vast mass of curving black walls and strange technology and closed doors made of intricate fiber-like materials.
I’m inside their ship!
The walls closed in on her, and Layla struggled to see in the darkness, which was softened only by the soft glow of an occasional blue indicator light.
The entire place gave off a distinctly subterranean vibe.
How utterly claustrophobic.
It seemed these Kordolians could see perfectly well in the dim light, but it took all of Layla’s concentration to avoid bumping into her silent guards. They moved in formation around her; the Sergeant in front, two either side, and one behind. Layla ignored the pain in her chest and ankle as she walked on, breathing heavily. These Kordolians walked fast, and only the threat of crippling pain from that cruel device around her neck kept Layla from slowing down.
None of them spoke. Now and then, they would pass other soldiers, all dressed in the same dark uniform. Curt salutes were exchanged, and at times the Sergeant would act deferent. That told Layla he wasn’t the biggest shark in this pond. She got the sense he was actually pretty low down in the hierarchy.
Eventually, they turned a corner, moving through a wide door that magically parted before them, its countless tiny, writhing fibers unravelling to reveal a cavernous room.
The light was a little brighter in here, thanks to a series of large tubelike structures that nestled against a curved section of the wall. They emitted a faint blue light, bathing the room in an eerie glow.
There was something inside the tubes…
Something familiar.
A gasp of horror escaped Layla’s lips before she could stifle it.
The Sergeant chuckled softly.
Bastard. He thinks this is funny?
Layla didn’t think it was funny at all that the dead bodies of two of her fellow passengers were floating inside those tall glass cocoons. They had been stripped and suspended in some sort of preservation fluid, their lifeless limbs and long hair swaying gently.
Oh my god.
Two passengers. The only other women who’d been on the doomed Malachi. It was said that exposure to the cold vacuum of space did strange things to the human body, but for some reason, these women looked perfectly preserved, as if they were just sleeping.
Layla knew better.
Nausea rose in the back of her throat. She’d spoken to both of them just before departure.
Layla hadn’t caught their names, because everyone traveling to Miridian-7 was seeking privacy, and not asking questions was the polite thing to do, but they’d chatted about Earth and the weather and how irritating it was to be followed by those unregistered surveillance drones.
And of course, they’d both recognized Layla, but they’d been polite enough not to mention anything about her other life, or the scandal that had engulfed her—the scandal almost every citizen in the Federation knew about.
How refreshing that had been.
How normal it had felt.
They’d been nice to her.
But now they were dead, suspended in those awful giant alien fish tanks like specimens in a museum… or a lab.
Was that going to be her fate, too? Layla started to tremble, and it wasn’t just because she was horrified. Her feet were still bare, and the black floor was cold. Really, the entire damn ship was fucking freezing, as if Kordolians preferred to exist in sub-zero temperatures.
Just when Layla thought things couldn’t get any worse, a monster emerged from the shadows.
“Ah. It’s about time, Captain Pradon. Thank you for not killing my specimen this time.” The one who spoke was half Kordolian, half… other, and for some reason, he spoke in Universal, not Kordolian.
As he stepped into the glow of the tanks, Layla froze.
Holy crap. This guy was tall and slender and possessed the deadest yellow eyes she’d ever seen. Sharp, narrow features presided over a thin slash of a mouth, and the slight curve to his lips—a pale imitation of a smile—made her skin crawl.
But what made him look so damn terrifying was the black metal that covered the right side of his face. It meshed seamlessly with his silver skin, reminding her of the ship’s strange unravelling fibre doors. The metal continued down his neck, disappearing beneath his pristine white robes.
This Kordolian was even more monstrous than Captain Pradon and his hard-faced crew.
Layla resisted the urge to flinch as the alien’s gaze snapped toward her.
“A female of breeding age,” he murmured, sounding mightily pleased with himself. “Finally. Now we are going to make some progress. No matter how hard he tries, Akkadian and his trained pack of Varhunds can’t protect all of you, can they, human?”
Layla blinked as she realized he was speaking to her directly—in Universal—and she had no idea what the hell he was talking about.
She glanced around the room, trying her best to appear frightened and confused. It should have been easy for her—on Earth, her entire life had been an act—but Layla was too shaken by what she’d just seen.
The half-metal Kordolian chuckled.
Really, what the hell did all these bastards find so funny?
“Oh, you don’t have to pretend anymore, child. I know you can understand me. My drone caught you speaking Universal before you were captured. Who were you talking with, human?” He caressed her cheek with his normal hand, gently dragging the tips of his razor-sharp claws along her soft skin.
A gentle-yet-threatening gesture.
Layla froze, her thoughts whirling. Disgust unfurled in her gut, making her want to retch, but there was no fucking way she was going to tell this mad cyborg-scientist about Enki.
The mysterious Enki didn’t know it, but the mere thought of him was the only thing keeping her sane right now.
A shadow of a whisper of a promise was keeping her alive in this dark, terrifying place, and she hadn’t even met the guy.
“I wasn’t talking to anybody,” she said slowly, carefully, injecting a sincere little tremor into her voice. Figuring it was pointless to keep up the charade, she spoke in Universal. “Just myself. That’s what happens when you end up stranded in space for weeks on end. You slowly go mad. You start talking to yourself.”
“Deceptive little human,” Captain Pradon hissed, anger flickering across his face. “So you can speak Universal.”
Without warning, the collar activated, plunging her into a world of searing agony.
Layla howled
. The Kordolians watched her with looks of detached smugness, as if this sort of thing happened all the time.
“P-please stop,” she gasped, unable to take it any longer. It felt as if her head was being forcefully separated from her neck.
The mad scientist uttered a word to the Captain, and suddenly the pain was gone, leaving her drained, her legs turned into jelly. Layla’s vision went black. She collapsed to the floor, gasping.
Relief.
Despair.
Humiliation.
This was really happening. The kind of scenario that only played out in horror movies, or her worst nightmares… she was living it, and it was different to anything she could have possibly imagined.
For someone like Layla, who had been used to living like a fucking queen back on Earth, this was beyond brutal.
“Now you understand what happens to you if you disobey, or if you lie to us. And that is only the mild setting. Such a weak little thing you are. I still do not understand what Akkadian finds so fascinating about your kind.” The mad scientist shook his head as he squatted on his haunches beside her. He raked his cybernetic fingers through her long black hair and yanked her head back. “Understand this. I can make things much, much worse for you, human. Do not lie to me, ever.” His stale breath washed over her, adding a hint of bitterness to her misery. “I will ask again. Are you absolutely certain you weren’t talking to anyone else?”
“Th-there was nobody,” she whispered. “Nobody at all.”
The Kordolian stared at her long and hard, reminding her of the way a crocodile might size up its prey. “Even if you are lying to me, there is no help coming for you now. This is an alpha-class battle cruiser, and it is impregnable.” He laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound. “Only a demon could breach our defenses.”
The tiny flame of Layla’s hope grew just a little bit dimmer, but she didn’t allow it to flicker out. How could she have such faith when all she knew of Enki was the sound of his voice; when her captors were so fucking powerful and cruel?