by Justin Sloan
Using her vampire strength, she pushed the hand-recognition plate and was in.
Now she moved as fast as she could. Faster than seemed necessary, but she wanted to be in place and ready. Was he as big a scumbag as Palnik had made him out to be? As dastardly as his followers?
Guards roamed the halls, some at windows and some elsewhere. At first she moved through the shadows with such speed that none saw her, but the door to what she guessed to be the master bedroom was guarded by several guards. She could take them out, or go back outside and try the window.
After a moment’s consideration she realized the window would likely be guarded anyway, so she might as well deal with these and be done with it.
She descended on them like the vampires of old, sliding along the wall using her claws and pouncing with exposed fangs when they looked up. It must have been a terrifying sight, she thought, as she landed on them and went to work, tossing one after another over the side of the stairs. They shouted as they fell and thumped at the bottom, but were not loud enough to raise any alarms. They were likely all in shock.
Her feet hit the ground softly when she followed them and ended their lives. Leaving them unconscious would’ve possibly worked, but then they would’ve been able to identify her and likely cause trouble with the fighting contest.
For the Etheric Federation’s and Earth’s safety, she couldn’t risk it.
Besides, these were the closest followers of a very bad man. If nothing else, they were guilty by association.
This suspicion was proven true when he finally appeared, large doors sliding open and a strange glow filling the room.
“Where have those guards gotten to?” Warlord Charbon asked, then strolled up the steps, cursing along the way. “Off whoring again, no doubt. We’ll see if they’re better guards when I have them gelded. See how they like that.”
Valerie could see his outline from her hiding spot, and when the light hit the edge of his Skulla robes she noticed dark stains. Blood?
A scream came from the other room, and Charbon paused at his door. “Tell them to shut their mouths. Bring them here so I can finish this.”
Valerie didn’t wait to see what was coming, but instead surged up the steps and grabbed this male by the throat—loosely enough that he could talk, but tightly enough to let him know she could take his life at any second.
“Who are they?” she asked.
He glared, confused.
“You have a translator chip, right?” she asked.
After another moment he nodded. “I understand, and I hope you understand that you’ll be dead in a matter of minutes. When my guards—”
His voice caught as she held him out over the edge of the stairs so he could see their bodies at the bottom.
“Your guards are gone,” she said. “You’ll join them soon enough, but first… What were the screams?”
“People who didn’t pay. As is my right, their lives are forfeit.”
“As in ‘taxes?’”
“Close enough,” he replied.
“You get to torture—I’m assuming from the blood and screams—and then kill them…because they didn’t pay you some sort of tax?” She shook her head, remembering the people she had kicked out of New York for less than that. The former leader she had hunted down and killed, because he had instituted a fear-based tyranny much like this seemed to be.
“And you?” he asked. “Who made you judge, so that you can come here and kill my men? Is that any more just?”
She frowned, then twisted her hand and squeezed to crush his larynx. When his body hit the floor she finished him off with a stomp to the head, so hard that it crushed his skull like an overripe watermelon.
It wasn’t about those types of questions anymore. She was a soldier, part of the greater system, here to fulfill that purpose. As far as she could tell this male would be a hindrance to that system; her enemy in any sense of the word. At least, it was clear he soon would have been.
Dragging him back to his room, she gave the signal. Robin would bring Palnik so that he could take credit for this and stroll out a victor, the wielder of more than twice as much power as he’d had before.
And if he didn’t deliver on his promise? Well, then there’d be one more warlord losing his life tonight.
Swarthian Extended Detention Environment (SEDE)
Kalan stared at Bob in disbelief. “What do you mean you can hear the Shimmers? Nobody can hear the Shimmers.”
Bob shrugged. “I can. Plain as I hear you right now.”
“How the hell is that possible?”
Bob considered that for a moment before answering. “I assume you’ve got some kind of translation chip, right?”
“Of course. They implant them when we’re born. Pretty much everybody in the Vurugu system has one, aside from a few remote cultures who don’t interact with others.”
The translation chips were more than a convenience to avoid having to learn the languages of other species—they were an absolute necessity. The Skulla’s mouths were unique in that they had two tongues—a smaller one that nestled underneath the first. Because of this, it was physically impossible for other species to recreate the sounds that made up their language.
“Okay, well, I’ve got one too,” Bob said. “The way I figure it, I have a better model. Nothing but the best for the universe’s elite.”
“Huh.” Kalan wondered if it could really be that simple.
On the other hand, he’d had his chip implanted here on SEDE. It made sense that they wouldn’t want the prisoners to be able to hear the guards. They used an artificial voice through the PA system when they needed to convey something important, and it gave the Shimmers the advantage of being able to talk freely without the prisoners’ even knowing they were there.
“What did they say in the cargo hold?” Kalan asked.
“Nothing very interesting. They really dislike our pilot, and they talked about the ways they’d dismember him if not for the profits they made off his operation. They’re a creative bunch, I’ll give them that. They chattered nonstop from the moment they boarded. Point is, I’ll listen for them coming as we move through the ship. That should help, right?”
“Hell yeah, it will.”
“So what’s the plan?”
Kalan scratched at an old scar on his shoulder while he thought. He’d promised Bob they’d figure things out when they boarded SEDE, and now here they were. It was time to stop thinking and start doing.
He gestured down the hall ahead of them. “I think our best bet is to get to the observation deck. They herd a whole mess of prisoners there throughout the day, and if we can reach it we should be able to get lost in the general population. Then when they call them back to their cells, we can slip into the cellblock with them.”
Bob raised an eyebrow. “They won’t notice two random weirdos who shouldn’t be there? One a huge Grayhewn and the other a highly attractive human?”
“Human, huh?” Kalan realized he’d never thought to ask the name of Valerie’s and her friends’ species. “Okay, look… You’ve got to remember that SEDE is first and foremost a spaceship. It doesn’t run like a normal prison, it’s more like a flying city where the guards regularly come and mess with the residents. The prisoners have to scan in every hour or the guards descend on them like it’s mealtime in the yanecat pen, but I seriously doubt they’re on the lookout for extra prisoners.”
Bob nodded. “I guess that makes sense. Prisons are designed to keep people in, not out.”
“Exactly.” Kalan glanced nervously down the corridor. “I guess we’d better get moving.”
They spent the next hour slowly and meticulously making their way through the massive ship. Almost as much time was spent stopped while Bob listened for the Shimmers as moving toward their objective.
Kalan quickly oriented himself to where they were on the ship, and he led them on a roundabout route via small rarely-used corridors.
When they were almost to their des
tination they had their first bout of bad luck. They were in an especially narrow corridor approaching a blind left turn when Bob froze in his tracks and the color drained from his face.
“Kalan,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Someone’s coming around the corner.”
The Grayhewn cursed silently. He’d heard nothing, but then he wouldn’t, would he?
He leaned close to Bob’s ear. “Okay, we’ll spread out and stretch our arms wide. When he rounds that corner he’ll run into one of us, and then we grab him and don’t let go until he’s dead.”
Bob hesitated, then nodded.
They did as Kalan had instructed, each spreading his arms as far as he could. Kalan was relieved that they were able to span the width of the passage. There was no way anyone would get past them.
He didn’t dare speak, but he could see from the tension on Bob’s face that the guard was almost upon them. He tensed himself, waiting.
Something came around the corner and slammed into his chest. He rocked backward, almost losing his balance, but he threw an arm around the creature and held on tightly. His other hand went to his weapon.
Kalan had no idea what part of the creature he had grabbed. It felt sharp and boney—a shoulder perhaps? It struck him that he had no idea what Shimmer anatomy was like. For all he knew they didn’t have shoulders.
Shoulder or not, he jammed the barrel of his Tralen-14 into the creature’s body and pulled the trigger.
The creature was flailing madly now, but Kalan held fast. He ran his gun up the creature’s body, trying to find the head. He pressed the barrel against the hard knob at about his shoulder height and, hoping he had guessed correctly, fired again.
After a moment the creature went slack in his arms.
“I think he’s dead,” Bob announced. “At least, he’s not screaming anymore. He called you a son of a prison trench… I guess that’s an insult?”
Kalan lowered the invisible creature to the ground. He was still shocked at the knowledge that the Shimmer had only come up to his shoulder. In his mind they’d always been massive creatures who towered over him.
“Any idea if he got off a signal to his buddies?”
Bob shook his head. “I don’t think so, since he was cursing you the whole time. Though the way he was screaming his head off, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard.”
Kalan grimaced, but there was nothing they could do about that now. If the guards were going to descend on them, so be it. “We’d better keep moving.”
They proceeded more quickly and much less cautiously than they had at first, their primary goal being to get far away from the fallen guard as quickly as possible. Even if no other Shimmers had heard their dying friend’s screams, someone was bound to stumble across the body sooner or later and they needed to be out of sight when that happened.
Kalan led them to a place where a narrow corridor joined a larger one. “We’ll wait here,” he said softly.
It was a risk. The wider corridor was heavily trafficked so the chance of a Shimmer wandering by were much greater, but if they wanted to get to the observation deck, then this was the place to be.
He leaned toward Bob and whispered, “They lead a new set of prisoners through here every hour for their time on the observation deck. When that happens, we’ll fall in with the group.”
As they waited, Kalan did his best not to think too hard about what was about to happen. Even if everything went exactly as planned, he was going to return to the blocks. Best case scenario, that meant there would be at least three gangs out to kill him. He’d burned more than a few bridges in his final months on SEDE.
He wasn’t sure how long they waited. It could have been ten minutes or thirty, but eventually they heard the unmistakable sound of prisoners approaching.
Bob’s eyes widened as he realized how many prisoners were coming down the corridor.
“That’s just a tenth of the total,” Kalan said, noticing the look on Bob’s face. “Now do you understand why I think it’s going to be easy to sneak in among them?” Kalan paused. “We’ll wait until a couple hundred have passed, then we’ll slip into the crowd.
They silently pressed against the wall of the narrow corridor, hoping none of the passersby could see them. The approaching mass of prisoners brought something back that Kalan hadn’t thought about in a long time: the noise of SEDE. He’d spent his first eighteen years in a constant cacophony. Prison was a lot of things, but quiet had never been one of them.
Kalan watched the prisoners as they hurried past, wondering how many of them would ever get out of SEDE and whether they’d be able to make something of their lives when they did. Or would they be sold into the fighting pits on Tol?
A face in the crowd caught Kalan’s attention, and the breath halted in his throat.
He grabbed Bob’s arm. “Come on, we’re going.”
“I thought we were waiting until—”
Kalan didn’t wait for him to finish, but stepped into the throng and pulled Bob along with him.
He edged between the prisoners, ignoring their annoyed shouts, and made his way toward the face he’d spotted.
It wasn’t long before he reached his target. He hesitated only a moment, then touched her shoulder. She turned, and her eyes widened when she saw him.
Kalan forced the lump in his throat down and flashed her a smile. “Hi, Mom.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Planet Tol: The House of Charbon
Valerie glanced at the dead, broken form of Charbon one last time before walking from the room. Her gut churned with a strange mixture of emotions—guilt, mixed with the thrill of success. This wasn’t her planet, but she was pulling strings here like their lives revolved around her mission for the Etheric Federation.
It was almost laughable how guilty she felt about taking out this Charbon bastard. He was a warlord. A murderer. A piece of shit by any definition. And after all, it had needed to be done.
She stopped in the foyer at the sight of Warlord Palnik and pulled herself together, standing up straight. If she was going to make this happen, fulfill her duty here, she couldn’t waste time questioning her actions after they were already done. She had a duty to her people. To Earth.
“It’s done, then?” Palnik asked in his wheezing voice.
She nodded.
“A promise is a promise.” Palnik turned to one of the women at his side. “See that our friend here is properly entered into the Damu Michezo on behalf of Warlord Palnik. She will be tested at sundown.”
“Tested?” Valerie asked.
He cocked his head and sneered. “Surely you understand at least some of our culture?” When she didn’t answer, he shook his head and added, “Just be in my courtyard tonight, where the selection committee will confirm your entrance. I’m sure it will be no problem at all for the likes of you. We have the letter of introduction, you’ve done your part here, and all that remains is the trial.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant, but nodded her appreciation. “I’ll be there.”
“Will you join us in the ceremony room for my ascension?” he asked with an excited sparkle in his eyes. “It’s one of our traditions that’s not to be missed.”
“We’ll be along shortly,” Valerie replied, watching as his men dragged off the body of his late competitor.
It wasn’t until he was out of earshot that Robin let out an annoyed sigh and said, “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.”
“As if this did?”
“I mean, no…” Robin grimaced. “But that guy—”
“Is our only hope of making it into the fight right now,” Valerie interrupted. “Once that’s over, anything goes.”
Robin nodded, and the two made their way to what was formerly Warlord Charbon’s great hall, but was now, according to local tradition, Warlord Palnik’s, along with the former warlord’s surviving fighters, slaves, and family.
They were arrayed in a militaristic formation, these attendees, with
the recently deceased Warlord’s family on their knees at the front. While the servants and slaves were dressed in loose clothing of white and yellow, the family members and their soldiers wore as little clothing as possible to better show off their tattoos. It was a pride thing, Valerie guessed, maybe even associated with rank in this society. Dresses hung loosely from the women’s shoulders and left their backs and sides completely bare, while the men were adorned in skirts that glimmered like metal, along with shoulder bracers with green lights along the edges.
It was a strange style, one she had yet to see here. Then again, she hadn’t been to an ascension ceremony, either.
Warlord Palnik stepped forward as his guards threw the corpse at his feet not more than three paces from the family. Gasps sounded, and a choked sob.
“You all belong to me now,” Palnik said, and with a swift movement he had pulled forth a blade that glowed red at a press of a button. He cut through the neck, separating Charbon’s head from his body in a quick motion that cauterized the flesh behind it. The aftereffect was a horrible stench, but no mess. Holding the head high, Palnik kept his eyes on the family. “By the governing body of Tol as recognized by all leadership in the Vurugu system, any defiance will be met with death. You are all mine by right, as are your slaves and other property.”
There was a long silence, during which Valerie tasted bile and had to fight down an urge to slap the skin right off Palnik’s face. A glance at Robin showed red cheeks and wild eyes, and she knew the younger woman was struggling twice as hard to keep herself together.
Back on Earth, when the vampires had taken Robin from her family, they had turned her but enslaved her parents up north. The two women had rescued them eventually, but not until after many sleepless nights of wondering what had become of them.
“It won’t stand,” Valerie whispered to her friend.
“What won’t?” Robin asked, also in a whisper.
“This.” Valerie bit her lip to keep her voice from rising. “Their system. Slavery, fighting to the death—all of it. When they’re with the Etheric Federation, it won’t last.”