by Jay Allan
When Ethan reached his office, Atton was already waiting to get in. The guards stopped outside the doors and Ethan turned to one of them, almost as an afterthought, to suggest that he fetch them breakfast from the mess hall. The guard looked at Ethan strangely, but then saluted and said, “Yes, sir,” before hurrying off. Atton also shot Ethan a strange look as they walked inside the office.
The doors swished shut behind them, and Atton sighed. “You shouldn’t be sending your bodyguards to get you breakfast,” he said.
“All right, who should I send then?” Ethan asked as he rounded his dark-lacquered wooden desk and sat down in the high-backed black chair.
“You can call the mess hall directly and request what you want. They’ll have someone bring it up to you. We’re undermanned, but you’re the overlord, so they’ll make it happen.”
“Right. This takes a bit of getting used to, Atton.”
“I know, which is why I’d like to suggest that you promote me and assign me as your XO aboard the Defiant. That way I’ll be able to help you act the part of the overlord. Once you’re more comfortable with the role you can assign me wherever you feel’s best.”
Ethan nodded. “Consider it done. Who’s the current XO?”
“Caldin.”
Ethan’s eyes lit with recognition. “I know her. She was also my XO in the Rokan Defense sim run. She was the one who recommended me—well, Adan Reese—for command training.”
“I’m sure she’ll be surprised to find that her suggestion was taken so seriously.”
“And perhaps a bit resentful that he’s being given her rank and position aboard the Defiant,” Ethan added.
“There’s not much we can do about that, but you don’t have to demote her. You can assign her as your tactical adviser if you wish. I’ve found she has some good insights.”
“I agree,” Ethan replied.
A few minutes later breakfast arrived with a knock at the doors. Ethan spoke a verbal command to open the doors, and one of his guards walked in balancing a tray loaded with pancakes, juice, and a steaming pot of caf.
Ethan caught a whiff of the caf and pancakes and he felt a strong answering stir in his belly. Suddenly he realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he ate. It had to have been more than 24 hours ago. As for the caf, it had been years since he’d had a cup of caf. Ethan watched the tray approach with eager anticipation, and he dug in before the guard had even poured his coffee. By the time the guard left, Ethan had already finished half his stack of pancakes. The office door slid shut with a swish. Atton cleared his throat. Ethan looked up from cutting another giant wedge out of his stack of pancakes to see Atton smiling at him over the rim of his cup of caf. Ethan took a moment to breathe and wash the pancakes down with a big gulp from his own cup.
“So, what’s your first move, Overlord?” Atton asked.
Ethan swallowed and took another sip of caf while he considered the question. “You said there’s another group of survivors.”
“Yes, Admiral Hoff Heston and the remnants of the Fifth Fleet. They were cut off during our retreat to Dark Space, so they holed up someplace else.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Someplace? You don’t know where they are?”
“No, they don’t trust us to have that information—since we’re working with the Gors. We coordinate attacks and salvage operations together, but they keep us at a distance.”
“I see. And our forces? How many are they and where?”
“They’re split up into four separate strike groups, each with its own base of operations. There are 13 capital-class vessels in all. Fourteen now if you count the Defiant.”
“Not very many. Will it be enough to take on the Valiant?”
Atton hesitated. “I imagine Brondi is also short-handed right now, so we stand a chance, but we would take very heavy casualties in a straight fight. I would recommend a different course. I doubt Brondi will be able to get Roan’s cooperation to help him detect any cloaked ships in the area, so if we had one, we might be able to sneak aboard with a small boarding party.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “I think you’d need a large boarding party to overwhelm the troops Brondi has aboard that carrier.”
“Not if he can’t see us. How many men do you think one invisible soldier could kill?”
“The Gors,” Ethan said as his eyes lit with understanding.
“Even a few dozen of them would be enough to clear the Valiant.”
“Well, what are we waiting for, then?”
“The Defiant isn’t cloaked, and we only have Tova with us, so we can’t launch the attack ourselves.”
“I know,” Ethan replied. “I meant we need to call the Gors and put together an op.”
Atton shook his head. “We can’t call them. The commnet doesn’t exist out here. The gate relays are all down.”
“All of them?”
Atton nodded. “They were mostly destroyed by Sythians, but some have just fallen into disrepair. We’ll have to travel to the nearest strike group to contact them.”
Ethan frowned. “We’re not cloaked.”
“We’re not that far away. The nearest task force is at Obsidian Station. A few jumps and we’ll be there.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “How many is a few?”
“About five.”
Ethan winced and took another sip of caf. “We need to get Tova’s help for this. If she doesn’t help us detect cloaked Sythians, we’ll be taken out before we even know what hit us.”
“She may not be willing to work with us if she finds out the truth about what happened to Roan.”
“Well, the truth is, we’re going to rescue her mate. If she’s got any brain at all she’ll work with us to achieve that end.”
Atton conceded that with a shrug. “They don’t reason like us, Ethan, but it’s worth a try.”
“Right. While we’re at it, is there anything we can do to bolster our nova compliment? We just have six fighters. That’s half a squadron.”
“There’s another squadron aboard the transfer station,” Atton said. “But no pilots.”
“That’s funny,” Ethan said.
“What?” Atton replied.
“When I wanted to join the fleet as a civilian, I was told that they had more applicants than ships, but now that I’ve been . . . conscripted . . . I’m finding that it’s just the opposite.”
“Well, in Dark Space we do have more applicants than ships, and even outside, we’re training more Gors than we have ships to fill. All the Gors we free now are going to form our very first invasion army.”
Ethan sat back and steepled his hands before his chin. “I suppose we’ll have more than enough troops to take back the Valiant then. Brondi’s in for a surprise.”
Atton nodded. “We’ll have her back soon. The tougher part will be finding a new crew for her.”
“Yes . . .” Ethan trailed off and his eyes drifted out of focus. He had been responsible for killing the original crew by unwittingly carrying Brondi’s super virus aboard the ship.
“It’s not your fault, Ethan,” Atton said.
“We can agree to disagree on that.”
“If anything Kurlin Vastra shoulders more of the blame than you.”
Ethan’s eyes came back into focus at the mention of Alara’s father. “Are you going to level any charges against him?”
Atton just looked at him. “Well, that’s up to you now. I’m not the overlord anymore.”
“I’m not going to do anything. I’d be a hypocrite if I had him tried and not myself. Besides, we were both Brondi’s pawns, even if Kurlin knew exactly what he was doing and I didn’t. For now, I think it’s best for us to keep all of that as quiet as possible. What about the guards who interrogated Kurlin? Have they been sworn to secrecy?”
“They have, but I’m not sure we can trust them to keep quiet for long. Everyone lost people close to them on the Valiant. It’s only a matter of time before the guards talk to someone, or maybe even p
lot to kill Kurlin themselves.”
“And what do they know about me? You said that Kurlin revealed my part as the carrier for his virus. He met me you know, so if he ever sees me without my holoskin . . .”
Atton raised an eyebrow at that. “When would he have a chance to see you without your holoskin? Besides do you really think he’ll try to pin blame on you when he’s just as guilty? He did mention there was a live carrier for the virus who infiltrated the Valiant, but you weren’t named. Kurlin seems to have assumed that you died aboard the Valiant with everyone else, so you’re safe. The greater problem is what will happen to old Kurlin if the crew finds out what he did.”
“They’ll murder him,” Ethan replied.
“Right, and we still need him to produce more of the vaccine, just in case the plague spreads through Sythian Space, too.”
“I didn’t think of that,” Ethan said. “Where are the interrogators now?”
“One of them just brought us breakfast.”
Ethan frowned. “Well, that’s going to help me sleep at night. Couldn’t we have them reassigned somewhere else? Maybe we could leave them on the transfer station.”
Atton nodded. “I would recommend that, yes, but that won’t shut them up forever, it’ll just isolate them for a while. Eventually the news will get out.”
“Well, let’s hope they keep their mouths shut.”
“A more permanent solution would be to assign them to the boarding party for the Valiant. . . .”
Ethan’s eyes grew wide as he understood what Atton was implying. He felt a sharp pang of disappointment to think that his son would even consider such a thing. “Atton . . .”
The boy shook his head. “I can see you don’t approve, but think about the greater good here. Part of your responsibility as overlord is going to be making the hard decisions—doing the things that on the surface seem wrong, but for the greater evil they will prevent.”
“Wrong is wrong, Atton.”
Atton smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You can’t afford to see the world in black and white, Ethan. Right and wrong are often just shades of gray. I’m surprised I have to tell a smuggler that.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Ex-smuggler. I lost everything because of my own moral compromises. If it weren’t for that, you and your mother and I would never have been separated, but instead you grew up without me there, and your mother is . . .” Ethan trailed off, shaking his head. “Missing.” That was as honest as he could afford to be with himself right now.
“Look, all I’m saying is that we need Kurlin. I don’t care how you keep him alive, but you’d better, or many more people will die.”
Ethan nodded. “Fine. Speaking of Kurlin, I should check on Alara,” he said, smoothly changing the topic. He felt privately sick that his son had such a convenient concept of right and wrong. Ethan touched his ear to activate his comm piece and then he said, “Call Kurlin Vastra.” The comm began to trill faintly in his ear, and a moment later the doctor picked up.
“Doctor Kurlin!” Ethan said. “This is Overlord Dominic speaking. How is Alara doing?”
Kurlin hesitated before replying. “Oh . . . hello, sir . . .” He sounded confused. “Alara’s not well, I’m afraid. She’s just suffered a relapse.”
Ethan frowned. “Where is she now?”
“Med bay. We’re looking after her. Why do you ask?”
Ethan had momentarily forgotten that Alara was nobody to the overlord; they didn’t even know each other. But while Ethan had been Adan Reese, he had professed to have some sort of connection to her—a connection which Alara wouldn’t even recognize if she were in her right mind.
All this identity switching was getting complicated.
Ethan’s gaze flicked to Atton. “My new XO, Adan Reese, was asking about her. I’ll put him through to you now.”
Ethan spoke aloud the command to transfer the comm call to Adan Reese, and then Ethan went back to his breakfast with a frown. He didn’t close the call on his end, so he was able to listen in as Atton did a good job of pretending to be concerned for a woman he’d never known. Ethan heard Kurlin relay the details of Alara’s regression—the incident in the mess hall with the lieutenant and then the subsequent reset which had knocked Alara unconscious.
Apparently the only thing the Defiant’s barely-qualified medic had been able to do for Alara without knowing how to safely deactivate her slave chip, was to implant another chip which would fight against the first. The code word “reset” would temporarily interrupt the slave chip, but it seemed doing that had been so traumatic for her brain that she’d been knocked unconscious. She was awake now and still claiming to be Angel, but with less conviction than before. The medic had said she would be okay, but he’d strongly cautioned against using another reset. Alara would have to fight her programming on her own.
Ethan gritted his teeth. Brondi was going to pay. His mind flashed back to what Atton had said about Tova’s mate aboard the Valiant and that brought a dark smile to his face. I hope he eats you, Ethan thought, but his next thought was that if Brondi died they would never get the deactivation codes they needed to safely remove Alara’s slave chip.
It was hard to want someone both dead and alive at the same time.
Chapter 5
Verlin stalked through the bowels of the Valiant with his team of scouts. Everywhere he went, the bounty hunter saw Brondi’s men walking beside big, hovering black garbage bins, using portable grav guns to pick up the bodies of the previous crew and drop them inside.
Even Verlin’s stomach turned at the sheer numbers of the dead. Walking through the Valiant was like walking through a mausoleum. He turned his eyes to the fore and forced himself to focus. He and his team reached a rail car tunnel and waited for the car to arrive. Once it did, they piled in, ignoring the bodies inside the car. Verlin turned to the directory beside the doors. He searched the ship for probable locations to hide something—what was he looking for anyway? What could old Dominic have been hiding?
This is a wild rictan hunt, Verlin thought as he punched in a random destination—the med lab. Good as any. He went to find a seat as far as possible from the nearest body.
Brondi was wasting his time, but with the amount of Sols he was being paid, Verlin supposed that he couldn’t complain. He settled his head back against the side of the car just as it began whooshing through the ship.
* * *
Roan glared at the door of his prison, willing it to open. His slitted yellow eyes had been fixed on that spot for the past four hours straight, and the door still hadn’t been opened. No one had come to bring him food. Roan finally tore his gaze away from the door and looked around his half-finished crèche. It was much larger than the previous one he’d shared with Tova. She was probably still there waiting for him. The human workers in their thick coats and gloves had disappeared more than a day ago, and they had locked the door behind them. This had never happened before, and it called into question the level of trust between them. Roan wondered if something had happened to break the alliance.
The humans had been gone too long. They were supposed to be finishing his crèche and bringing him food. They were not keeping their end of the deal, so it was time for Roan to break his. He refused to stay hidden any longer. He would find a way out. Roan stalked over to his armor and put it on piece by piece until he was cloaked in the comforting coolness of his second skin. This one would protect him from the elements unlike the weaker one he’d been born with. He flexed his forearm gauntlets and then turned to the door with his palms outstretched. Two lances of purple light shot out and slammed into the door with a resounding thud. Nothing happened. The door was pristine, its armor too strong for his weapons to pierce. Roan cursed under his breath and turned to search the vast chamber for another way out. His eyes jumped from pillars of ice to the still, blue waters of his pool. The floor was covered in ice and snow. There were no other exits that he could see.
Then his eyes seized upon something. It w
as long and black and roughly rectangular. He’d seen the humans using it to carve and shape the ice pillars. Roan stalked over to it. He remembered that the device produced an intense beam of light and heat. He wondered if it would also cut a hole through the door. Picking it up, Roan carried the device over to the door and fiddled with the controls until he found a small lever which fired a bright red beam and melted a furrow in the icy floor behind him. Turning to look at the damage, Roan let out a hiss, and then he turned the device around. Now he triggered the lever again and began tracing a line across the door. He saw the duranium begin to glow, and watched as small rivulets of metal began oozing down the door in fast-drying streaks.
This would do, Roan decided.
* * *
The med lab was also filled with bodies. These ones wore white hazmat suits, but they were just as dead. Verlin kicked the nearest one in the ribs to see if it would stir, but it didn’t even twitch, and rigor mortis made the body react to his kick like a rock. Verlin looked away. The hazmats hadn’t saved them.
Looking around the darkened room, Verlin saw vials of serum and lab equipment scattered everywhere. The sheer, frantic disarray seemed to suggest that these med workers had been trying to formulate a vaccine to the virus right up until the moment it had killed them.
“This is interesting. . . .” one of Verlin’s men said. Verlin turned to see the man querying a nearby lab computer.
“What?” Verlin asked, walking up behind him.
“There’s a large area grayed out on the ship schematic.” The man turned to him and then back to the screen to point. “Look—here’s the med lab. On the other side of it is the med center, but in between . . . there’s this big empty space with no apparent access. The schematic labels the area as hazardous, but doesn’t say what’s in there. All other information is classified.”