by Casey Lea
The wreck of the house shrugged, before bowing upward and debris slithered from it. A shimmering energy field appeared, pushing carefully into the garden and dark figures moved behind it. It opened to let soldiers through and one of those figures wore the golden galaxy burst of an admiral at his throat. Freefall.
Nik stared at his pursuer and the kres stopped to gaze back. They studied each other and Nikareon opened his mouth to surrender. He never had the chance.
Something arched through the air over his head and a boyish voice yelled, “grenade.”
The invaders fell back at once. Their energy shield closed again, but the missile bounced off without exploding. Nikareon recognized it as a building block, while his fronds sensed two figures behind him. They landed on his back, making him stagger. Wings snapped open on either side of him and blasted air from their micro-pores. He was dragged backward into the pool. Slime covered his face and he hardly managed to grab a breath before he was pulled under.
Stop struggling, Zak's mental voice ordered and it was tinged with such fury that Nik relaxed. He concentrated instead on keeping his mouth shut and ignoring his urgent need for air. Throwing away his com suddenly seemed a very bad idea. He grimaced at the figure on the other side of him and recognized Dax. Curse the boys. They were supposed to be safely gone.
A surge of water jerked Nik's attention back to the house end of the pond. Whoever had dived into the pool was hidden by ripples of green, but only briefly. It was Freefall closing on them and Nik kicked out wildly. His vision turned to silver, but it was darker than usual. His lungs were shrieking for air, while his body demanded speed.
Free twisted past Nik's thrashing legs and Dax's wing glided to meet him. Its claw hooked at the kres, but Free twisted to let it slide past and then grabbed the wing. Dax mind-screamed at the brutal grip, but his enemy pulled harder, to wrap the soft flap under his arm and against his body, trapping it.
No. Nik kicked out again, even though he could hardly see, but Zak kept jetting them both away through the water, toward freedom. Nikareon tried to order him to stop, to let go, but the thoughts wouldn't come and he had no energy left to send them.
The enemy kept coming, their hands clutching at Nik, until the water was a vortex of struggling bodies. He struck out again and his strength stopped seeping away. The pond turned black, filled with thrashing, silver fish that were easy targets. His fists sank into vulnerable red and orange, as he fought with the wild fury of a total Beserk rage.
When an arm closed around Nik’s neck he ripped it away, but a cascade of pain and curses made him pause. Zak?
Drakking ye. Who’s field do you think you’re in? Relax.
The shared com shield faded, so that Nikareon had to hold his breath again and his silver vision leached away. His rage went with it and he let his son drag him over the slippery stone lip of the escape tunnel. Everything was fading and he was barely conscious when Zak finally dragged him from the water onto mud. All he could do was gape for air, while his son set off an explosion to seal their escape route. It was so muted it took Nik a moment to realize what it was. The darkness rocked and swayed around him and he knocked his head on the dank ground, but still he struggled to stand. To go back.
Nikareon was dragged in the opposite direction by Zak, fighting uselessly against the boy’s com strength. Nik pulled back, but it was impossible without a wrist band and he slipped instead, to lie gasping in the mud. His chest was on fire, but his heart hurt more than his lungs. “Should’ve. . . left me.”
A shadow fell over him and Zak knelt by his head. “We need you,” the boy whispered. “Understand, Patri? We drakking need you.”
“Not so much. Not as much as we need Dax, but now any chance to save your brother is gone.”
“It was gone the moment he let himself get grabbed,” Zak snarled, his voice momentarily deepening, before it broke high again. He released his father, then pushed roughly past him, breaking into a jog. Nik grimaced and began to run too, following the faint light of Zak's com through the natural cave system that their escape route connected with. They loped on in silence, ignoring each other.
Nik could feel his son's fear and fury. He was unlikely to forgive his father's attempted surrender anytime soon. Nikareon almost didn't care. In the closeness of the caves he could still hardly breathe and the exertion was starting to weary him. He felt he was endlessly trapped in that pool, wading through a world of slime. Yet somehow he’d escaped again. He was free and all it had cost him was his son.
8
The Price of Friendship
Free collapsed on the floor of his cabin. He lay on his back, arms and legs spread wide letting the tension drain from his body. It was slow this time. The pain dug deeper with every battle, until another fight was needed just to relax. A minute passed and his abdomen was still flat and tight with anxiety, but he couldn't afford to waste more time on himself. He rose smoothly and his console made a preprogrammed connection.
Nightwing appeared in the air over Free's bed and the battle weary Admiral found a smile for his cousin. “Hey, Wing.”
“Hey, Free.” Wing briefly grinned back, a death’s head rictus that quickly collapsed. “Did you catch the Beserk? Was the bustwing distracted enough by the Grace for your slivers to sneak in?”
“Indeed. I almost had him this time.”
“Almost?” Wing clenched his fists so hard they shook. “It failed?”
“Only just. We were close enough to lock eyes.”
“Drakkit.” Wing spun away and his arm swept out, followed by the sound of something expensive breaking. Free pursed his lips and realized he wasn’t the one who needed to relax. He waited silently until Wing recovered enough to turn and face him again. “How did the gat look?”
“Busy.” Free offered a grim smile, but Wing didn't return it. That was truly odd. What could be worrying him so much? “I almost had Nikareon this time. I will next.”
“How did he escape? What went wrong?”
“The usual. He's fast and smart. He's training up assistants too and they helped him get away. When I thought I'd grabbed the Beserk by his cloak it proved to be his follower's instead, but at least I caught someone.”
Wing grimaced and Free realized he was trying to smile. “A captive. Good. We have to find the Beserk. Burn this soldier's mind if needed.”
“No, Wing. He's no soldier. He's still a boy.”
The First Admiral's face froze, while his eyes locked onto Free as if he was a target far below. Wing's voice was so quiet his cousin had to strain to hear it. “How old?”
“Scan says ten.”
“You're sure? He's not older?”
“Eleven at most.”
“Drak.” Wing swung to hide his face again, before pacing away. He stood with his back to Free for several minutes. When he turned back his expression was calm. “Burn him.”
Free's jaw set and the two stared at each other. “He's a child.”
Wing simply looked at him. “They killed my son.”
“No, he couldn't have. He was still a year from being born! Nikareon did that.”
Wing blinked once. “They follow the person who killed my son,” he answered slowly and deliberately. “They follow, support, aid and protect the person who killed my son.”
“And maimed my daughter, but it's not so simple. If you were here, with children in your sights, you'd refuse to pull the trigger too.” Wing's intense stare never flickered, but Free knew the truth behind it. Wing was no more capable of such a burning then he was. The Admiral leaned forward until their faces seemed to almost touch.
“Please. I beg you to try. At least a surface pass.”
Free's knees trembled and he had to step back to hide it. “You know it's not so simple. Especially with a mind that fights back. How can you ask this of me?”
“I regret the risk-”
“There's little enough risk for me, but if the boy resists, my response will be automatic and the result likely fatal. So, I
repeat, how can you ask this of me?”
“I wouldn't, but I need to find that bustwing Nikareon. This follower of his could hold vital information.”
“Information? I thought this was about revenge.”
“It was. Once. Until I tried something last week.” Wing turned to pace away, but started talking the moment his face was hidden. “I finally felt ready to face the scans from when Darsey was caught by Lamidia. I felt I should share my son's death. Be with him in that moment. Foolish, I know, but in the event I couldn't, because it was missing.” Wing swung back with the last word and his eyes seemed to have a feral glow.
Free ignored that unsettling stare to concentrate on the conversation. “Missing?” he wondered and his cousin’s lip curled in a snarl.
“Ye, the moment wasn’t there. The moment I've avoided for over a decade. When I finally looked, I couldn't find it. The end of his life trace. His heartbeat was strong and after he was ripped out, it was still strong and after that, there was respiration. He didn't die. He actually started breathing and never stopped. Instead a stasis field powered up.” Wing's face tightened further. “The type used to transport life forms. The type that could have carried my son.”
Free needed a moment to absorb that. “Truly? Are you certain-sure? Perhaps you found what you most wanted.” Wing's hand slashed sideways in denial and Free paused again. “You truly think your son's alive?”
“I know he was when he was born, and why activate the stasis field except to steal him?”
Free breathed in sharply at that. “Lamidia wanted Devyn dead, but Nikareon might have taken him instead. But, Wing, no one has ever seen him with a kres child.”
Nightwing's face twisted again before he turned to pace away. “I know that too.”
Free stayed silent, trying to imagine how it would feel. To lose a child and then in the midst of grief to find sudden, unexpected, uncertain hope. He shuddered and his heart ached for them. “How is Dee? What does she think we should do?”
“You can't tell her.”
The shock was so great it felt like an unexpected weight, forcing the air out of Free's chest. A moment passed before he could respond. “Dee doesn't know? You haven't told her? But she could help-”
“No.”
“She has a right-”
“No. Drakkit, Free. Don't you think I've thought about this? Agonized about it? I won't tell her, because I can't put her through that and I won't let you put her through it either. You can't imagine what it's like. I don't even know if I'm sane anymore. I think perhaps I'm just faking it. Living from memory. I can't sleep and I can't stop. I'm in constant torment wondering whether he still lives and where he could be and what might be happening to him.”
“Perhaps your wife could help with that. She's a strong woman-”
“Of course she is, but this is past strength. Trust me and leave her be. She mustn't even suspect until we know for sure.”
Free hesitated, but then gestured apologetically and made one final play. “Is it Honorable to keep such knowledge from your wife?”
“I doubt it. But then how do I judge? It certain-sure can't be Honorable to place her in torture either.”
“She's already tortured.”
“This is worse. Trust me. The uncertainty...” Wing stopped and pushed both hands back through his hair. “It's worse than anything,” he whispered and Free's throat closed in response. He looked away from the torment on his cousin's face and ducked his head. The gesture should be enough to satisfy Wing, but Free had no idea whether he meant it. How could he possibly keep a secret from Dee? Especially this secret? If she wanted to risk the Rim and scour space for her son, it should be her choice, not her husband's.
9
Interrogation
Free was still struggling with his divided loyalties when he reached the brig. He stepped through the energy wall, his face and body rigid. Free's second-in-command, Spenser Chen, was studying a surly boy being attended by medics. However, Spenser turned at once. He snapped to attention and Free waved for him to stand at ease.
“The captive won't talk, sar,” Senior Chen said. “Not a word. Not even to tell us what he wants to eat.”
“Clear the room and give me privacy with the prisoner,” Free ordered Spense and the officer nodded in response before turning to see it done. There was no hesitation and no hint of a question from the human. He simply did his job and Free wondered whether he hated the man. It certain-sure seemed safer than liking him.
Free’s two previous seniors had been solid and dependable. Both had been happy to accept planet-based promotions, but Spenser was more than competent. He was a young man with incredible common sense, an ability to predict exactly what his admiral wanted and a habit of being precisely where he was needed. He was also popular. Apart from his age, he was frighteningly like Gull, the senior who’d tried very hard to murder Free and come very close to succeeding. The last senior he’d truly liked.
“Sar,” Spense said and Free jerked from his brooding. “I’ve set up planet-wide sweeps. I’ll let you know when we have a trail.” The man saluted, turned on a heel and was gone before Free could blink. Both security fields on the double hatch sealed and the Admiral had the prisoner to himself. He tried to relax, but that was impossible. He was stiff with a tension that had become all too familiar. He looked at the boy, who was a pitiful sight, huddled against the wall, dressed in ripped jeans and a dark, wrap-around tee, with a strange green cloak thrown over his shoulders. His head rested on his knees and his hair was very pale. Just like Misty's hair.
Free's throat constricted at that similarity to his daughter. He had no idea how to start this interrogation. However, the blonde hair flicked back and the child looked up. They stared at each other, until the boy swallowed and dropped his gaze. “I'm ready to talk.” He closed his mouth and his jaw trembled briefly, before clenching tight again.
“Very well. What's your name?”
“Daxeon farNikareon.”
“I'm Admiral FarFlight.” Free crossed his arms and leaned against one of the bright, white walls. The energy field within it made his back itch, but he ignored it. All he could truly feel was the warm rush of relief. The child was ready to talk without persuasion.
On the far side of the cell the boy scrambled to his feet to lean against a wall too. He folded his arms and that white-blonde hair fell forward over his eyes, but he didn't bother to brush it back. Instead he began to talk.
“Nikareon's my patri and he's drakking awesome. He raised me up since I was little and he always kept me safe. He was going to surrender to you, so we could get away. That's the only reason you caught me. He's a really good patri and you shouldn't chase him. He cares for all of us.”
“All of you?”
“My family. We're just kids, from me right down to the criers and Patri's trying to take care of us. Why do you make it so hard?”
“Because I want to save another child. Someone you might know, or might have heard of. He'd be a little older than you, just two years. He's part kres, but that might not show. He could have gold skin or eyes, or maybe blue eyes like his mother- you do know him.”
“No.”
“You frond-flinched when I said blue eyes.”
They both moved off their walls to close with each other, and the boy tucked his fronds behind his ears. “Did not.”
“Please, Daxeon. I don't want to hurt you, but I need to know about the blue-eyed boy. He's as important to me as your Patri is to you. He's my family. Just tell me, is he well?”
The boy's eyes narrowed and he shook his head.
“Please. I can arrange to return you to Nikareon-”
“Liar.” Daxeon's mouth snapped shut and his mind with it. Every form of attention he'd been giving Free vanished. He withdrew into himself and turned away.
Drakkit. He was so close and the boy knew something. Free took a single stride and his fronds wrapped around Daxeon's temples. The boy arched back with a hoarse cry and his brig
ht cloak snapped open. Free batted a fold impatiently aside and tightened his mental grip. He was so busy sorting through the child's thoughts he missed the counter attack.
A silver spotlight was snapped on somewhere in the cell and pain exploded in Free’s neck. His eyes snapped open, to see drops spray toward the ceiling, shining silver brown until they splattered against it. He tried to look down, but something was in his throat, forcing his head back. He tried to cry out, but there was only pain. He tried to breathe, but there was no air, only blood.
Free was dragged to his knees by whatever was hooked in his throat. He fell, but clutched at it while blood spurted through his fingers. There was something sharp and curved, some sort of hooked blade. It was buried in his carotid artery, or his jugular. Or both, he thought vaguely.
The claw jerked sideways and the room with it, until Free was lying on the floor beside the boy. Free stared into silver eyes close enough to touch. His mind tried to link with his com, but the connection with Daxeon was still there and the gat of a chick blocked his call. The com was overloaded anyway. Without instructions it was making new blood to pump into Free and trying to seal the injury. That was never going to work with a hook still in his throat.
Free tried to raise his arms, but neither responded. His body was already slipping away from him. On the floor beside him the boy smiled. Rage and panic flooded through what was left of Free’s blood. It gave him the energy he needed to strike back. Only one part of his body was still working. His fronds twitched and he dug his mental claws as deep as he could, making the boy scream. Free pushed harder and then pulled back with the last of his strength.
It was all there. The child’s entire life, every memory he had and Free accepted each one. At first it was hard, with the boy clawing at his mind, scratching and striking out with his fronds, but by the end it was easy. There was no resistance at all. The hook that had been grinding into Free’s throat fell away and the admiral could finally roll to safety. His eyelashes were so blood-soaked he could hardly see, but he heard the door open and his senior’s instant call.