by Ben Hale
The captain picked up his glass of wistor and took a sip, regarding Reklin over the rim. “I might just kill you for showing your horns, or what’s left of them.”
“We used to be friends.”
“Until you turned me in.”
Reklin snorted at the anger in his former captain’s voice. “You’d been stealing weapons from the military for thirty years and selling them for profit. If anything, I freed you from the shackles of the Empire.”
“You were always so insufferable with the rules,” Gellow said. “Another year and I would have made enough glint for the rest of my life, but you had to tell my superiors.”
Reklin sighed, realizing the soldier still harbored a grudge. They had been friends once, but that friendship had shattered when Reklin betrayed his trust. The dark hatred in Gellow’s gaze implied lethal intent, and Reklin guessed he didn’t have much time.
“Just answer my question and I’ll be gone,” he said.
“Why would I tell you anything?”
“Because you owe me,” Reklin said. “We both know you were doing far more than I reported, and if I’d revealed the entirety of your activities, you would be burning inside a sun instead of sipping wistor in a Kit.”
“I’m not going to thank you.”
“I just need some information,” Reklin said. “A small price to pay for not being dead.”
Gellow took another sip. “Tell me, did it hurt when they cut your horns?”
“More than you can imagine,” Reklin said evenly.
“I’m guessing you were promised their return if you completed a mission?”
“It seems you know a great deal about me,” Reklin said.
Gellow shrugged, but his eyes never left Reklin. “I kept tabs. I kept hoping our paths would cross again so I could thank you properly.”
“Well, now I’m here.” Reklin leaned forward. “What do you know of House Bright’Lor?”
The captain rubbed his wrist, where Reklin had cut a nerve in their last encounter, back when the captain had learned of Reklin’s role in his dismissal. Gellow noticed Reklin watching him rub the numb flesh and set down the glass.
“You want to know of the fallen House that bought your contract?” Gellow asked.
Reklin wasn’t surprised he knew so much. The captain had always traded in information in addition to weapons, a habit that had led to many enemies. Some did not like their secrets being sold.
“You obviously know something,” Reklin said.
Reklin noticed that the two dakorians were no longer at the bar. He contained his irritation, wishing the captain would just forgive him for telling the Bone Council of his treachery. It wasn’t like Reklin had been given any other option. If he’d kept the secret, he would have been dismissed as well.
“Secrets cost glint,” Gellow said. “And I believe you don’t have enough.”
“Are you going to make me force you?”
“How would you do that?” Gellow swept his hands wide. “I’m an honest merchant now, a humble owner of the Kit.”
“I suppose you know nothing of the hammer lances being smuggled through the station, or how they are being sent House Aly’Ara. I don’t think your supplier will appreciate that you are selling to a House that believes humans should be free.”
Gellow’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think I’m selling to Aly’Ara?”
“A hunch,” he said.
Upon arriving at Korgith Station, Reklin had used his rank to do a quick review of the station’s outgoing manifests. Most were normal, but a series of shipments had been labeled as damaged gravity drives. Since damaged gravity drives occasionally imploded, they were rarely inspected, making an empty drive with a crack an excellent place to hide weapons. Couple that with the destination, Urgin-2, a suspected contact for Aly’Ara, he’d guessed. And apparently he’d guessed correctly, judging by the anger in Gellow’s eyes.
“What do you want?” Gellow demanded. “You want to destroy me a second time?”
“Just tell me what I wish to know, and I’ll keep the truth to myself.”
“I think I’d rather get my revenge.”
The two guards appeared behind Reklin, with two additional dakorians. All hefted stubby mauls, weapons used to crush and maim. They surrounded Reklin, and one put the spiked maul on the table, scratching its surface with shards of seracrete.
“I think we should finish this conversation in private,” Bruiser said.
Reklin looked up at him. “I’m sorry to hear you say that.”
The dakorian sneered. “There are four of us and—”
Reklin burst to his feet and struck Bruiser in the throat. Clutching his neck and choking, the wounded dakorian stumbled backward, and Reklin drew his broken blade. He whirled to slice across the chest of the second and knocked the third backward with a savage punch to his gut. Then he stooped and tossed his chair at the fourth.
Deflecting a hasty swing from the struggling Bruiser, Reklin twisted and grabbed the handle of his maul, wrenching it from his grip. Twisting back, he elbowed Bruiser in the nose. Blood spurted from the injury, and his opponent fell, tripping over the fallen chair.
Shouts rang out in the Kit as Reklin sidestepped a swing from his former captain. The blow was meant to sever his spinal cord, but the blade did not land. Gellow wasn’t prepared for the miss and stumbled forward.
Reklin sidestepped and shoved him in the back, sending him to the floor. Reklin launched the maul at the nearer dakorian and then darted forward. He brought his knee into Gellow’s side, knocking him onto his back. With a driving lunge, he plunged his broken blade into the floor—and inch from his throat. As the other dakorians recovered, Reklin put his boot on the back of Gellow’s neck. With the blade on the front of his neck, and Reklin’s boot on the back, a kick would lead to decapitation. The others came to a halt.
“I thought we could do this with respect,” Reklin said.
The former captain spit on Reklin’s blade. “Betrayal does not bring respect.”
“Neither does death.” He nudged the Gellow’s neck forward until it touched the blade’s edge. “Information. Now. What do you know about House Bright’Lor?”
Gellow glared at him with hate-filled eyes. Unsurprisingly, the patrons of the Kit eyed the conflict, with some quickly placing wagers. The captain had been decent before, but his time after the military had softened his reflexes. In the poorly controlled station, he was probably one of those respected and feared. To see him on his side, on the verge of death, probably brought his adversaries a great deal of pleasure.
“I know they have blue eyes,” he growled.
Reklin pressed on the back of his neck until he squirmed. “Fine! I’ll tell you what I know!”
Reklin released a little of the pressure. “Be quick about it.”
“I know who is controlling Malikin.”
“Who?” Reklin glanced to Gellow’s brutes, but they did not seem inclined to attack.
“The only person with real power in the Empire,” Gellow said with a triumphant sneer. “The Emperor himself.”
Reklin felt a chill settle in his bones. “You lie.”
“Not this time,” Gellow said. “Not when the truth is so much better. You’ve unwittingly joined a doomed House, and there’s no way out.”
“Why does he want them dead?” Reklin demanded. “They are already fallen.”
“I don’t know. I just know that he has enlisted Voice Malikin to ensure the destruction of every blue-eyed krey. The other sons and daughters of the House have died in accidents over the last several years. Now there’s just a few blue eyes left. And when they’re dead, they’ll eliminate anyone linked to House Bright’Lor.”
Reklin could sense he was telling the truth, and it left Reklin feeling trapped. Malikin had sent him into Bright’Lor knowing he wouldn’t be coming out—and had probably chosen him because of his age and desperate desire to be a Bloodwall.
Anger flared in Reklin’s belly. He’
d been betrayed by the Empire he’d sworn to protect. Blackhorn had been right, and dakorians were just fodder for krey dominion.
But why? Why did the Emperor want to destroy an entire House? Such a destruction had happened before, but only in retribution to capital crimes, and always in public. To do so in secret suggested the Emperor had a reason to be afraid of House Bright’Lor. Did the Emperor’s vendetta have to do with augmented slaves?
“What about Ero and Skorn?” Reklin pressed. “What are they planning?”
Captain Gellow grimaced as the blade pressed deeper, drawing a trickle of blood. “Skorn keeps his secrets to himself, but I know Ero visited House Kel’Ray several days ago with one slave. He departed with two.”
“That is not unusual.”
“It is when House Kel’Ray reports the death of two dakorians due to accident.”
“You know what happened,” Reklin accused.
“A cousin of mine managed to acquire the vid before it was erased.” He bared his teeth in a triumphant smile. “It’s worth a watch.”
Reklin did his best to keep the concern from his face. He guessed the vid showed a certain slave acting in a certain enhanced manner. Leaning down, he lowered his voice.
“I want the vid.”
“For a price,” Gellow said.
Reklin snarled so fiercely that the other dakorians recoiled. “You get to keep your life. That’s the price I’ll pay.”
The captain swallowed, his throat’s knot moving past the sharp edge of the blade. He carefully reached to the crystal embedded into his forearm and activated his holoview. Tapping several runes, he swiped it to the side.
“Unfortunately, it has been erased,” he said. “Permanently.”
Reklin stared at the sneering dakorian on the floor and had to resist the urge to kill him. The captain did not deserve a death in such a manner. Probably. Withdrawing his blade, Reklin turned and departed without a word.
Gellow grabbed the fallen chair and stumbled to his feet, calling after Reklin’s retreating form. “You have no idea what you’re mixed up in, soldier! You may be a Shard, but you are doomed for a hornless demise!”
Reklin departed Kit and made his way down a side corridor. A group of dakorians appeared at the opposite end, so he shifted down an unoccupied port. Halfway toward the end, he ducked into a maintenance room. Filled with spare parts and seracrete lances, the room was dim and out of sight. Reklin checked to ensure he had not been followed and then activated his holoview.
Reklin had prepared several contingencies in case Gellow did not give him what he wanted. If he’d tried to blast the information publicly, send it to an enemy, or delete the evidence, Reklin’s holoview would capture the information and contain it in his crystal.
Reklin activated the vid and watched the girl kill not one, but two dakorians. Her actions were swift, her blade work desperate and raw. The dakorian was not talented, probably just a sergeant rank before his dismissal, but he should have dispatched a slave with ease. When the dakorian hit the girl with his bony fist, Reklin knew the fight was over.
Then the girl’s face healed.
The augment was not obvious, and Reklin had to watch the vid several times to be sure. But beneath the blood on her features, her cheekbones shifted, as if they had been broken and then repaired. Without a cell regenerator.
A chill swept across Reklin as he recognized the truth, and he watched the vid again. He’d come hoping for answers but never would have expected to find such a shocking secret. The girl had more than one augment.
How many did she have? More importantly, how many knew? Gellow would not have told anyone, not without a price. The fact that he possessed the vid made it clear he had not sold it. He might have lacked scruples, but when he sold information, he did erase it from his archives. It was one of the few things his buyers trusted. Reklin doubted the seller had seen the girl healing herself. It was hardly noticeable even to Reklin, who knew what to look for. All Gellow or the seller had seen was a slave who was training with a blade and had gotten lucky in a fight with a pair of dakorians.
Reklin watched the vid again and noted the firm set to the girl’s features, the defiance even in the face of fear. The girl was impressive, not just for her skill, but her courage. It was obvious why she’d been branded a ferox.
Unfortunately, the vid did not provide any clue for the secret he wanted. Who had augmented the slave? Where had she come from? Ero certainly knew, but Olana, the krey in the vid, obviously had no idea.
When he finished, Reklin coded the vid as heavily as he could and closed the holoview. With more questions than answers, he stepped into the hall—and found a dozen hulking dakorians arrayed around the maintenance closet, too many for Reklin to defeat. Gellow stood in their midst, a triumphant sneer on his lips.
Reklin eyed the group, his gaze sweeping across the lances and mauls. Their modified weapons were used for intimidation as much as brutality and murder. He recognized three of the dakorians as those that had subtly directed him down the empty port, where he would be trapped.
“Gellow,” Reklin said quietly. “Think about this. You kill me, and the Empire will come.”
“You always thought yourself so clever.” The captain raised a hand to give the kill order. “But this is one trap you will not survive . . .”
Chapter Forty-Five
Siena dreamed again, and again she knew she was dreaming. Like clouds forming around and above, she could feel the decking of the space station under her feet, smell the burning of seracrete lances, and hear the murmur of krey voices. She walked down the corridors and through the leisure pods of the Korgith station, drawn to an obscure corner. There was just one problem.
She was not asleep.
One moment she had been watching the station out the window, talking to Kensen in low tones about where Reklin had gone and what the other dakorian was doing in the holochamber. The next moment, she was floating through the station in a dream.
She tried to resist the inexorable pull, but her fear was muted. She knew she could not be harmed, not when dreaming like this, yet a bubble of laughter came to her lips at the absurdity of what she was experiencing, almost as if she’d inked her skin with glow and started hallucinating.
She floated around a corner to find a dozen heavily armed dakorians standing around a door. Some had sunderblades that glowed like a lance. Others had weapons fashioned from seracrete, their edges burning bright red. The one at the center hissed orders to the others and hefted a stubby hammer—not a lance, but an impact weapon designed to shatter dakorian bones. A crusher. They all faced a closed door.
“The others will attack the Bright’Lor ship at the same moment.” The speaker’s voice was distorted, a timbre that reverberated in Siena’s mind. He wore bright-colored clothes, covering some of his tattoos. His eyes flicked to the closed door they had surrounded. “They will kill everyone onboard. Then we take the ship as a reward.”
The door opened, and Reklin stepped into the hall. He came to an abrupt halt, surprise washing across his features as he surveyed the ring of dakorians. The speaker of the attackers sneered in triumph and spun his hammer, the anticipation bleeding into the others.
“Gellow,” Reklin said quietly. “Think about this. You kill me, and the Empire will come.”
“You always thought yourself so clever.” He raised his hand to issue the kill order. “But this is one trap you will not survive . . .”
Siena gasped in shock, drawing breath like she had just been underwater. She sought for purchase, her hands clutching the edge of the window and Kensen’s shoulder. Kensen turned at her touch and then blanched.
“Are you sick?” He rose to his feet in concern, but she yanked him back to her side.
“They’re going to kill him,” Siena said.
“Kill who?”
“Reklin.” She pointed toward the station. “He was coming out of a maintenance closet and found a small army. They’re going to kill him.” She lurched
to her feet and darted to the door, but Kensen jumped up and caught her wrist.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I’m going to help.”
As the words escaped her lips, the absurd thought brought her to a stop. She shook her head, struggling to clear her thoughts. She’d been about to go help Reklin, a dakorian soldier—why?
“Talk to me,” Kensen said. “What just happened? One minute we were speculating about what Reklin was up to, the next you are going to fight for him? That’s madness.”
“I saw something,” she said. “I saw him in a corridor of the station, about to fight. It was real.” The way he regarded her made her flush. “I can’t explain it, but it’s going to happen.”
Her voice quieted at the claim, but she could not deny her knowledge. She knew the moment had yet to happen. She knew the soldiers were gathering and knew that Reklin was not aware of the killers. She could not explain why or how, and dared not question her sanity, but she knew what she’d foreseen.
“Are you claiming to see the future?” Kensen asked.
“Maybe.” She winced. “I can’t explain it. I just know it. And if I don’t help, he’s going to die.”
“So? He’s a dakorian. What do we care if he dies?”
“Others are coming here, and they will attack the ship.”
“There are three more dakorians here,” he said. “It’s their job to protect the House.”
The urge to help Reklin rose like vomit, and she fought it with logic. Why did she have to go fight with him? Slaves did not fight, and never for a dakorian. She had no answer, but she could not refuse her purpose.
“Warn the other dakorians,” she said. “Tell them we overheard a krey talking.”
“You’re going to risk your life?” Kensen demanded. “For him? Why?”
She shook her head and finally met his gaze. “I don’t know.”