by Ben Hale
Reklin had assumed Belgin would be in the fallen category, but he didn’t fit the description. He wasn’t wanted for crimes—Reklin had checked. Instead, he was wanted for what he knew. Normally such knowledge would be obtained during a Reckoning and the witness released. But Belgin thought his entire House was targeted for extermination. By who? Why? Kelindor had been a disaster, yes, but it hardly gave anyone cause to destroy the entire House.
An idea crossed his mind, and Reklin turned to the military archive of vids. He sorted them by distance to the initial location of the lab where the Dark had been released. The vid recorders inside the structure—if they had even existed—had been destroyed. But outside the building, several vids had been obtained, most by nearby krey recording their surroundings on their holoviews. Reklin watched them all, and then again.
The vids were chaotic and jumbled, and over the next hour he pieced them together, identifying their perspective by markings on the laboratory building. He further sorted them by direction.
Most came from the south, where the nearby leisure buildings were located, but a few came from the east and west. The last vid, taken by a female krey on a ship to the north, showed the northern side of the structure. In it, the roof shattered, and the cloud spewed forth. The viewer was more distant than the others, but then Reklin noticed a flicker of motion right at the base, just as the cloud was released.
Reklin enhanced the holochamber so much the image turned grainy. He spotted a person opening a door at the rear of the structure and sprinting into the trees. The distance made it difficult to discern his identity, but the panic and terror were unmistakable, as were the blue eyes. The image proved what Reklin suspected. Belgin wasn’t just any witness to Kelindor.
He’d been in the building.
“Captain?” Rasina’s voice came from the cockpit. “We’re getting close to Mylttium.”
“Understood,” Reklin said.
He dismissed the vids, and the room returned to normal, the clamps on his boots releasing, the walls returning to white. But when the door whisked upward, Reklin remained in place, pondering the conversation with Belgin.
Most of Reklin’s career had been spent fighting those that resisted the Emperor’s authority. There always seemed to be rebels. On occasion he’d fought a House that thought itself strong enough to fight the fleet. But he’d never joined a common investigation, least of all to hunt a witness. That alone gave credence to Belgin’s claims. But if that were true, were Reklin and his team in danger? And how would it affect his chances of being Bloodwall?
Chapter Ten
Ero and Skorn departed the Tribunal Tower and threaded their way through the streets of Mylttium to reach the World Gate. From there they Gated to Zelium, a small, icy world on the outskirts of the Belinium system. A hive of those less fortunate, the planet was controlled by House Sent’Ith, the white-eyed krey that welcomed Houseless into their ranks. Ero had always enjoyed visiting Zelium before the fall of his House, back when he’d had the glint to take advantage of desperate krey trying to sell their assets. Now that he was the less fortunate one, he didn’t like being the prey.
With every distraction and pleasure, Zelium was filled with vile restaurants and roak-infested respites. Shops sold illegal pocket Gates, krey dagger lances, and stolen energy blades. Denizens of the snowy world wore several layers to protect themselves from the frigid air. Since Ero and Skorn had lost their homes and star ports, they were left storing their single ship on Zelium. Ero eyed an energy blade hanging in a window. It featured a black blade extending from a small, easily concealable hilt, a weapon for killers.
“Stop thinking of where to spend glint,” Skorn said.
“You think I’d waste what little we have in a place like this?” Ero placed his hand over his heart. “You wound me with your lack of faith.”
“Don’t deny you were thinking it, and we both know you spent fortunes here.”
“Only when we had fortunes to spare. Besides, I already have a pair of energy blades.”
Skorn pulled him to a stop. “We’re going to get it back. Everything.”
“Easy for you to say,” Ero said. “You’re not the one that was Primus.”
“I was Secondous,” he said. “And neither of us knew what our brother was doing. Orion cost us everything.” The anger in his voice was evident.
“It will take millennia to return our House to its rightful place.”
“Then it’s a good thing we can live forever.” Skorn clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s just make sure we don’t get killed.”
“If you insist.”
Ero shivered at the chill. The air was frigid compared to Mylttium. Snow billowed above the dome, and some wind managed to pass through the shield. The streets were a mix of grime, snow, and dirt, with House Sent’Ith either unable or unwilling to spend glint on cleaning mechs. Ero noticed the grime collecting on his cloak and curled his lips in disgust. How he missed his Lorenwhite walls.
Hundreds of ships dotted the landscape, most on seracrete landing pads outside the city. Structures on either side of the street were packed with krey, the sounds of music and shouting coming from within. All krey were immune to disease, fatigue, or drunkenness. They could even regrow a limb, if one was severed. But they could still be killed. Ero had met krey so terrified of death they hid themselves from the public, hermits that lived through eras and ages, ignoring the rising and falling of Houses.
Ero had heard rumors of Fatheron, a krey that had supposedly lived since the very creation of the Krey Empire. If true, he would have lived a million years, not that Ero believed such a rumor.
Skorn sniffed in disgust and swerved to avoid an unconscious krey lying in the street, blood seeping from a wound on his skull. Ero assumed he would live. Probably.
Sent’Ith kept a minimum of dakorians in the cities, but they mostly dealt with major conflicts. The krey on the ground could have been dead or alive, and those walking in the street obviously didn’t care. The buildings turned from the bright lights and snow-covered structures to darker abodes. Dakorians and krey prowled the shadows and would have likely attacked, if Ero and Skorn had not paid to store their ship on Zelium.
One krey stepped from the darkness with a hulking dakorian at his side. The dakorian was enormous, easily two feet taller than normal. His bones were scarred and chipped from hundreds of conflicts, the single mark on his horn marking him as the lowest rank. Probably one that had been dismissed from the military for brutality. Such a story was common for the warlike race. The krey sneered at Ero and Skorn, and Skorn gave a tiny nod of acknowledgment.
“Ilbin,” Skorn said.
“My two favorite roaks,” Ilbin said, his smile disturbing under his white eyes. “How kind of you to return. Do you have my glint?”
“We’re not due to pay until tomorrow,” Ero protested.
“It was today,” he replied. “But I figured you were going to be late, so I took the liberty of removing your gravity drive.”
“You what?”
The anger in Skorn’s voice drew the dakorian forward a step. The towering soldier slung a giant, spiked maul over his shoulder. A weapon designed for crushing bones.
“A precaution,” Ilbin said. “When you pay the rest, you can have it back.”
Removing the gravity drive would turn Ero’s ship into a pile of scrap, and Ilbin knew they didn’t have the glint. He would sell their ship a piece at a time, all the while claiming Ero and Skorn still owed him for the space to park the vehicle.
“We’ll pay you tomorrow,” Ero said, grinding the words through his teeth. “But we need to retrieve something from inside. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” Ilbin turned and swept a hand to the ship in the shadow of a hill. “It’s your ship.”
Ilbin blinked his white eyes, which could see in the dark. Ero hated House Sent’Ith. They were always lurking in the dark, plotting to steal and take glint from other Houses. Of course, that was exactly what Ero and Skor
n were doing, but at least they had the decency to do it in the light. Mostly.
Ero and Skorn pushed through Ilbin and his guard. As Ero ascended the steps to their rusting ship, he cast a glance over his shoulder. Ilbin stood where they had left him, his guard staring after Ero, spinning the maul as if disappointed he did not get to kill.
“Looks like our time on Zelium is over,” Ero said.
“My thoughts as well,” Skorn replied.
The Gerlon-class ship was shaped like a bulbous roak, wide and flat but pointed at the prow. The stern of the ship swelled into a spherical bulb, providing housing for the gravity drive. Ero hoped it had given Ilbin radiation when it had been removed.
Although it was the same size as Roque-class vessels, its sleeker cousins, the Gerlon class was every sort of ugly. With its rusting seracrete paneling and aged power conduits, their ship was especially repulsive. Lights blinked as Ero approached, and the ship recognized its owners by the crystals in their arms. A platform dropped from beneath, and Ero and Skorn ascended into the interior. Just two levels high, the ship contained a few dozen compartments. The lower level included a small cargo hold, kitchens, and food reserves, as well as compartments containing equipment for onboard repairs. The upper level contained four private quarters for krey, the holochamber, the Gate chamber, other storerooms, and the bridge in the pointed prow.
Walls and ceilings were rusted and dirty, grime collecting in their corners. Mostly gray, the walls looked dingy and worn in the light. Gerlon vessels were built for labor, and their ship, the Nova, had survived for thousands of years. Most of its parts had been replaced, but at least it would get them off the ground.
“Have I told you I love this ship?” Ero asked.
“Many times.” Skorn paused to look at the empty gravity drive chamber. “But I must say, I still don’t understand why. You always favored newer vessels.”
“I’ve grown to appreciate her secrets,” Ero replied, patting the wall affectionately.
“This time, I have to agree with you. Whatever smuggler retrofitted this ship has done us wonders.”
In unison, they paused to look into the bulbous stern of the Nova. Inside, a gravity sphere normally floated in the space. Converters altered the gravity energy into light, which was then funneled into the power conduits embedded in the bulkheads. Now, hundreds of conduits hung in open air.
“I can’t believe he took the drive,” Ero said.
“We were late,” Skorn said.
“Our payment was due today?” Ero raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because we don’t have the glint.”
Skorn rotated and made his way to the bridge, ducking as he passed through the small bulkhead leading to the cockpit. The ship’s rooms and hallways were technically built for dakorians, but the ship did not lend itself to space, especially the bridge, which held two krey seats and a wide control panel, which housed the ship’s primary cortex. Ero caught the top of the compartment door and shut it behind them. Then he claimed a seat adjacent to his brother.
A crescent-shaped panel extended around the room, hundreds of symbols displayed across its surface. The Nova was ancient and lacked the finer accoutrements of newer ships. What it lacked in style, it made up for in secrets.
“Bring up the secondary drive,” Skorn said.
“But I’m the captain.”
Skorn rolled his eyes. “I thought we decided I was captain.”
“Only because you bought the ship.” Ero passed a hand over the cortex sphere, a small ball that rested in the center of the panel. “But we both know I’m the better pilot.”
Skorn grunted, his silence a tacit agreement. Ero grinned, then reached under the panel and turned a hidden crystal. At the rear of the ship, buried inside an interior compartment, a secondary gravity sphere began to glow. Purple light flowed off the surface and into the conduits, feeding power into the ship.
The Nova seemed to cough and tremble before abruptly lifting off the platform. Ero opened the front viewing window and spotted Ilbin staring up in shock. Ships rarely possessed a second drive, and Gerlon classes lacked the space, or so Ilbin had obviously assumed.
Ero reached for the lance to fire at Ilbin, but Skorn caught his hand. “Kill them and we’ll have the entire House breathing down our necks.”
“He stole our drive,” Ero said.
“Not worth it.” Skorn shook his head and rotated the ship, pointing them skyward. “Besides, the backup drive is down to eleven percent. We need to conserve power.”
Ero powered down the main lance and activated the shields. Energy shimmered across the rusted hull, covering the imperfections and trapping the air. Ero tensed when they reached the city shield, the two barriers crackling as Nova passed into space. Ero half expected their ship to crack and the shield to fail, leaving them to plummet to the surface of Zelium. But, as always, the Nova hung together.
“I love this ship,” Ero said.
Skorn smiled. “I’ll get us to hyperlight. Why don’t you reach out to some old allies and start looking for where we can acquire some slaves?”
“I’d rather fly.”
“And I’d rather know hundreds of seedy contacts from the black market,” Skorn said, and gave him a pointed look. “Too bad we can’t get what we want.”
Ero rolled his eyes and stood. “I’m sure you could make allies among the lower Houses, if you wanted.”
“You were the one who made allies easily.” Skorn’s fingers flashed across the console, preparing the jump to hyperlight. “I have more friends in the nobility.”
“I’m sorry you got stuck with a lesser talent.”
Ero grinned and slipped out the door. Making his way down the hallway, he placed a hand on the crystal by his personal quarters and the door whisked open—and jammed in the ceiling. Ero sighed and activated the door again, but it took two attempts for it to shut.
He groaned in irritation. His last ship had been a Meltia class with a glass hull, aquatint walls, and bulkheads of white seracrete. Its gravity drive had been a whisper, while the Nova’s engine rumbled like an empty stomach.
His private quarters were small, with gray seracrete plating for walls and the ceiling. A bed could be lowered from the wall, and a desk was secured to the wall. Gravity threading was supposed to keep everything in place, even during jumps to hyperlight, but as the ship accelerated, a pair of bottles rattled and rolled off the desk, joining those on the floor. Ero put his hand on the wall to keep from stumbling until the stars outside the window became a smooth streak and the Nova settled in to hyperlight.
Ero sank onto the bed with a sigh, wishing he could sleep. They no longer needed sleep, not like the humans or dakorians, but they were still capable of it, and Ero had always enjoyed a refreshing nap.
Tapping the beamcast crystal embedded in the wall, Ero examined his list of contacts. It was displayed on the hologram of green light floating in midair. The list flickered a few times, indicating the gravity drive needed to be calibrated. Again. He swept the report aside and brought up his list of past contacts. They’d all been allies, at one point or another. Starting at the top, he muttered to himself as he eliminated each for various reasons.
“Dead. Probably dead. Under Condemnation. Too stupid. Missing. Also under Condemnation. Joined to House Thorn’Vall. Too desperate for glint to trust. Dead. Dead. Also dead. I wish they were dead . . .”
Ero frowned, noticing for the first time how many of his former allies were now dead. Perhaps smuggling slaves was not the healthiest of occupations. He shrugged and kept scanning the contacts, but each would not help for various reasons. Then he spotted an old name.
“Telik.” Ero activated the name with a thought.
The name expanded to include an image and description of his identity. Once High Scientist for the Emperor himself, Telik had been in charge of Genysiam, the world with the Empire’s entire stock of genesis chambers—until it had been discovered that he was secretly experi
menting on slaves, attempting to enhance their profitability.
“You were always so ambition,” Ero mused aloud.
Augmenting slaves was expressly forbidden, not that laws had ever stopped the krey from attempting to make a profit. It was also impossible. Dozens of scientists and engineers had tried to augment humans to make them more profitable, and those were just those Ero knew about. Each had ended in abject failure, and the execution of everyone involved. The Empire did not want humans with power.
Ero stood and began to pace, considering the tantalizing ramifications of augmenting slaves. House Bright’Lor needed glint, and selling investments into a harvest world would be hard enough. But if the slaves were augmented . . .?
A slow smile spread on Ero’s face. Augmented slaves were supposed to have increased strength, stamina, and more obedient. They’d be ten times the normal value. Even a few thousand would be enough to buy five judges. But could Telik do it?
Telik had been under Condemnation for high treason and escaped a lethal judgment by a mere handful of glint. Without a House to protect him and plenty of enemies wanting revenge for his past mistakes, he’d disappeared from the public eye. That was a hundred years ago, and by now he was probably alone and desperate. And Ero knew Telik to be the smartest krey he’d ever met—at least when it came to the human genome.
Ero liked the idea, but Skorn had always expressed had disgust for Telik. He would not appreciate bringing him into their endeavor—and would hate the idea of augmenting slaves. Ero grinned at the prospective irritation on his brother’s face. On impulse, he tapped the name, connecting a signal through a micro-Gate.
On the outside of the ship, a tiny sphere opened, and a circle of silver flowed into shape. It flickered purple when the beamcast signal struck the micro-Gate, reaching across the Empire to ping the receiver. A moment later, Telik connected.
Chapter Eleven