by Ben Hale
“You are obviously not afraid of me, why do you tremble?” Reklin asked.
She did not think it prudent to tell him about the soldier she’d killed. “I am not permitted to hold a weapon, but I must obey my owner.”
She allowed a touch of fear into her voice—the likely response, given the situation. A slave could be killed for holding a weapon or burned for refusing their owner’s order. Her fear was plausible, but she couldn’t be certain if the dakorian believed her. She fleetingly wondered why she was not actually afraid of the powerful soldier.
“Let me see your weapon,” he said.
She reached to the small sheath she’d made on the first day Ero had given her the weapon. Hidden at the small of her back, it could be tucked under a loose fold of her shirt, preventing others from noticing. Drawing the hilt, she held it up for inspection but did not activate the energy blade.
“Ero spoke the truth.” The dakorian seemed a trace surprised.
“He does not lie.”
She blurted the words but did not regret them. All krey were adept at deception, but Ero did not seem to favor such tactics. He had never lied to Siena, as far as she could tell. Even when speaking to Olana, Ero had only withheld the truth, not outright lied.
“Why are you not afraid of me?” Reklin asked.
She tried to stifle the smile, but not before it twisted her lips. In the recent weeks she’d killed dakorians, healed her own bones, experienced heightened senses, and even seen the contents of the cargo bay thrown askew. Not to mention hearing Reklin’s name in a dream. She was not afraid of the dakorian because for the first time in her life, she was afraid of her own power.
She looked away, resolving that if she continued on her current course, she had to be better at hiding her true feelings. Reklin noticed her amusement, and a faint smile pulled his lips.
“Is it because you know how to use that weapon?” he asked.
“Only what my owner has forced me to learn.”
Reklin’s voice gained an edge of irritation. “I will not punish you for learning to fight. You can stop pretending you do not enjoy it.”
This time she managed to keep the smile contained, but she lifted her eyes to meet those of the dakorian. The soldier regarded her with a strange expression, at once curious, measuring, and surprisingly uncertain.
“Are slaves not permitted to enjoy their assigned duties?” she asked.
He bared his teeth. “Show me.”
She hesitated, but the command could not be refused. “As you order.”
She activated the blade, the energy extending and coalescing into a thin shard of power. All white, with a thread of blue up the center core, the flat blade had a beauty that Siena had come to admire.
Reklin reached to his shoulder and drew his broken blade. The blade was as wide as her head, and even broken, it was as tall as her entire body.
“Why do you use a blade?” she dared to ask.
He raised an eyebrow. “I like the simplicity of a blade.”
“Yet yours is broken.”
He didn’t respond except to charge and swing for her head. She ducked and rotated backward, spinning to put a set of bunk beds between them. The dakorian jumped and caught the top bed with one hand, using the contact to sail over and land at her flank. The bed rocked from the shift in weight and almost toppled. Then Reklin swung his blade, forcing her to block. She stopped the blade before it severed her spine, but the impact knocked her skidding across the floor.
She retained the grip on her weapon but grimaced when she stood. She looked to her side to see she had not been entirely successful. His blade had cut a line across her waist, deep enough to bleed, not so deep as to sever muscle. One blow, and he’d already drawn blood. Hopefully he would accept her lack of skill and be done.
“You’re holding back,” Reklin accused.
“Of course I’m holding back,” she said, a touch of defiance seeping into her voice. “If I so much as draw your blood, I get executed.” Again she chided herself for showing her true feelings. She really needed to learn how to lie.
He touched his left horn. “I give the oath of my Hammerdin clan, you will not be punished if you draw my blood in this contest.”
She noted the use of this in his promise, indicating the exception would not extend to later moments. He could have been lying, but dakorians valued combat and integrity, and his desire to test her mettle seemed earnest. She knew she should feign weakness, but it went against her nature.
She tightened her grip on her blade and darted toward the dakorian, feinting high right—and then attacking right. The dakorian obviously expected a ruse, because he didn’t even bother to attempt a parry. Instead, he swung to the opposite side. Her blade nicked the bone armor at his waist. She immediately retreated out of reach.
Reklin remained in place. He touched his waist and lifted the drop of blood on his fingertip. Then his eyes settled on her, curious and measuring. He spun his blade in his grip and took a combat stance, the weapon raised above his head.
“I made the mistake of treating you like a slave with a toy. That won’t happen again.”
He stalked forward, and the two locked in a furious duel. Siena had fought dakorians in the holochamber and knew that Reklin was not using his full skill. It didn’t matter. He battered her on every side, his sheer strength far exceeding her own. But her blade flashed up and across, deflecting his weapon, seeking an opening.
Their conflict drifted across the cargo bay, always with Siena retreating. She used the crates and the beds to slow his advance, but occasionally managed to put the dakorian on the defensive. She sensed even that was intentional, as if the soldier wanted to measure the full depth of her ability. That thought made her angry, and she attacked in a swerving charge to avoid his blade.
The broken blade reverberated faintly as it carved through the air, missing her foot when she jumped closer to the soldier, inside his guard. He aimed a blow with his free hand, and she caught it with her blade, cutting a shallow line on the bone of his forearm. An ill-placed blow but sufficient to keep his fist from crushing her skull.
She darted away, and he pursued, both blades striking and spinning. She could not block his blade outright. Even broken, it weighed more than a human adult, let alone her slight frame. But she could redirect its momentum to keep it from cutting her in two. Her small body was an advantage, and Reklin struggled to land a blow. The seconds dragged on, and he seemed to hesitate, as if expecting her to tire, but the strange energy flowed through her body and kept her in the fight.
Abruptly Reklin shifted to the side, blocking her escape and driving her toward the corner of the cargo bay. She ducked a swing and tried to thread the gap between the dakorian and the bulkhead, but he punched with his free hand, forcing her back.
He swung his blade for her waist, a blow that would cut her in half. She leapt back and landed on a bed in the corner, her back on the mattress. Keeping her momentum, she rolled backward and returned to her feet, drawing a murmur of praise from the soldier.
“Your talent is impressive,” he said. “For a slave.”
He tossed the bed aside like it was an empty crate and lunged. Again his blade came for her throat. With the bulkhead at her back, she had nowhere to go, so she grabbed the hilt of her energy blade with both hands and raised her blade against the incoming blow. Gritting her teeth against the impending impact, she wished she were stronger.
The strange energy from her core rose into her limbs, flowing down her shoulders, past her elbows, into her wrists and fingers. Everywhere it touched, her muscles tightened, as if she’d quadrupled her strength in a split second. Reklin’s blade struck hers—and came to a ringing halt.
Sparks spit from the contact, falling to the deck as the sound echoed in the confines of the cargo bay. Trembling, Siena stood with her body angled into the floor. She stared at the edge of his blade, which had stopped close to her nose. The dakorian had obviously meant to knock her sprawling, but
she, a sixteen-year-old girl, had blocked his attack.
She’d never felt more powerful, and her limbs trembled with the augmented energy. The power had come at her command, rising and burning throughout her body and soul.
She didn’t get the chance to relish the moment. Reklin kicked her in the chest, smashing her into the bulkhead. A piercing pain burst in her skull as she bounced off the seracrete barrier and slumped. Reklin hovered over her, his towering frame swimming through her vision.
“I don’t care if the krey lets you fight,” he said with a hard voice, “but remember your place, and remember that you will never be better than a dakorian.”
Her vision faded, the pain spreading through her body and claiming her consciousness. The blackness absorbed her, seeming to swallow her thoughts, and for some time she drifted. Eventually a hand rubbed her shoulder, and the unmistakable touch of a cell regenerator activated behind her ear. She groaned as her fractured skull began to knit.
“Stay with me,” a familiar voice said.
“M’what huppen’d?” she managed.
Somehow Kensen managed to understand her slurred speech. “I heard the two of you fight. Then he came out of the cargo bay and told me your body needed to be repaired. Your skull was fractured.”
“I’d m’be fined.”
“You will be soon.”
The cell regenerator closed the gash and reduced the swelling, the subdermal energy repairing her damaged brain. She swallowed, tasting copper and cheese before the clarity returned. The cell regenerator deactivated, and Kensen leaned against the bulkhead, releasing a strained breath.
Siena’s vision gradually settled, and she felt exhausted. Apparently her augments were only temporary, a harsh realization she wished she’d known in advance.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Are you determined to get yourself killed?” he asked.
She realized she was on the floor and gingerly sat up. Grimacing, she leaned against the bulkhead, reaching up to touch the blood-matted hair. It was still wet, so it hadn’t been long since the fight. Kensen waited for an answer.
“He ordered me to fight,” she said wearily. “It’s not like I had a choice.”
“An hour ago you said we always have a choice.”
She didn’t like having her words thrown back at her, not after almost dying. But it was not necessary to voice her displeasure, because Kensen raised a defensive hand just with her look.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just having a hard time keeping up with this. A few days ago, I was a slave in the mines. It may have been terrible, but at least I knew my place.” He looked away, but she got the impression he had more to say, so she remained silent. After several moments, he sighed and spoke in an undertone. “What you say about freedom is terrifying, yet exciting. I know it will lead to our deaths, but I think I would rather be with you than anywhere else.”
Worried that the dakorians would hear, Siena turned and surveyed the cargo bay, but it lay empty. She turned back to Kensen to find his eyes on her, a surprising determination visible in his features.
“Are you sure?” Siena asked.
“One condition.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You want to ask something of me? Now?”
He looked away and then back, obviously nervous. “I want you to help me do what you can do.”
“What are you talking about?”
He stared at her, incredulous. “Since the moment I stepped into Olana’s office, I’ve seen you alter a beamcast crystal, heal your body faster than a cell regenerator, and amplify your hearing.”
“I didn’t alter a beamcast crystal.”
“You did,” he said. “I saw a spark on your arm when Olana reached for her holoview to call for more soldiers. It broke because of you.”
“You think I really am”—she struggled with the word—“augmented?”
He gave her a pointed look that said, really?
She recalled the moment in the fight with Reklin. “It seems I also have enhanced strength.”
“There’s more?”
“And gravity manipulation. I think.”
“Seriously? Just how many abilities do you have?”
“More than I can handle,” she said.
“Do the others have so many?”
She thought of Lyn, Quin, and the others. “I don’t know. But I don’t think so. At the start of the experiment, I heard Telik tell Ero that he attached energy to the flaws in our genome. And that I had the most flawed genome of the group.”
Kensen ran his finger down the tattoo on her wrist. “So this is why you have so many?”
“I guess. It’s not like I’m an expert in human genetics.”
“Says the supreme augment.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, but regretted the outburst when her head throbbed. She was just beginning to realize how close Reklin had come to killing her in his examination.
She laughed sourly. “Whatever you want to call it, I think it’s going to kill me or drive me to madness.”
His smile gradually faded. “Is that why you are so reckless? Because you think you’re dying?”
His question hit hard, and she found a nearby bulkhead very interesting when tears welled in the corner of her eyes. Was she dying? The question was too terrifying to consider but demanded an answer.
Kensen scooted closer, his body unfolding at her side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tucked him against his chest. He did not speak, and eventually she was forced to face him.
“When I use an augment,” she whispered, “I feel strong. Powerful, even. Then it fades and I feel weak. It might be nothing, or I could be killing myself a little every time I use them. I really don’t know.”
“Whatever happens, we’ll be together,” he murmured.
“No more running?”
His features were sober. “No more running.”
She allowed a small smile, grateful for the sudden warmth from the proximity. She wouldn’t admit how alone she’d felt, but with Kensen, she didn’t have to shoulder the future by herself.
“So you’re still my friend?” she asked.
He smiled his lopsided smile. “If you’ll have me.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Reklin’s foot collided with the girl’s chest, and she slammed backward, into the bulkhead. Her head rebounded off the hard seracrete plating, and Reklin heard the crack of her skull. She slumped to the ground, her eyes closing.
“I don’t care if the krey lets you fight,” he said, “but remember your place, and remember that you will never be better than a dakorian.”
Her eyes shut, and she did not move. Reklin stared at the girl’s unconscious body, at the blood leaking from her skull. She would die in several minutes without aid, the wound obviously fatal. He could just let her die, but the question needed to be answered. He turned and made his way to the door. When he stepped outside, Alina was waiting in the hall. Reklin raised a hand to forestall her request. He strode down the hall and opened the door to the storage room, catching the other slave pacing inside.
“She’s hurt,” Reklin told him. “Fix it or she’s dead.”
The slave blanched white and scrambled for a cell regenerator. After finding the tool, he raced from the room, skirting Reklin and Alina in his haste. He disappeared into the cargo bay, and Alina shook her head in confusion.
“Did you already kill the girl?” she asked.
“There’s something you need to see,” Reklin said.
She glanced to the room and raised an eyebrow. “You want me to see the body?”
Silent, he guided Alina to the riser and to the upper deck of the small ship. Although the Nova had been heavily modified, the holochamber had likely not been moved from the original Gerlon-class ship. Reklin made his way to the holochamber and opened the door with a touch.
“I need to see the vid of the cargo bay for the last few minutes,” he said.
“Now? What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Alina stepped inside and opened the panel set adjacent to the door to reveal a bank of crystals. She activated her holoview threaded part of the holo into the crystal bank. Using the link, she began hacking into the system.
“It’s got more layers of security than I would expect on such a derelict vessel,” she said.
Reklin nodded, not expecting anything less. Skorn was from a fallen House, but he was also cunning and driven. He would not leave his secrets unprotected. But Alina was well trained, and Reklin was confident she could breach the security.
Reklin had never been prone to impatience, but he fidgeted as he waited. Again and again he imagined his blade being blocked by an impossibly young human girl. His pacing drew another strange look from Alina.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“You’ll find out when you access the security vids.”
She frowned and leaned into the panel, and after several more seconds, she nodded. The chamber brightened, the crystals embedded into the walls flickering to display a holo vid of the cargo bay. In the vid, Reklin stood across from the girl.
“The vid doesn’t have audio,” Alina said. “It’s not broken. It just doesn’t have the mech on the receiving end, so there’s nothing I can do.”
Reklin waved his hand in irritation. He didn’t need the audio. He only needed to see the end of his duel with the branded slave. In the vid, he and the slave girl began their fight.
“She’s good with a blade,” Alina remarked.
“Better than I expected,” he admitted, not taking his eyes from the holo.
“She’s really only been training for a few weeks?”
“That’s what Ero claimed.”
“A raw talent.” She glanced at Reklin. “For a slave.”
Her comment raised a question. Were they going to report Skorn and Ero for training a slave with a weapon? Their contract with House Bright’Lor required silence, but Reklin and his Shard team were still employed by the Empire. Reklin decided to wait on a decision and drifted forward, his eyes fixed on the ferox.