Adrenaline beat through me, muting the pain.
I heard the soft bell of the elevator. It had returned.
“Oh, for fiery fucking hell.” Carlotta stepped back toward me, handing me her energy pistol, and then drew another long blade from a hidden sheath under her jacket. “This just keeps getting better and better.”
HE’D LEFT me behind.
Griffin had ordered me to my cabin and left me behind.
Fury struck me in the gut, and my gut struck back, twisting in pain. Pressure rose in my head, warping my eyesight. In a flash, lassitude rolled over me in a soothing wave. I breathed deeply, imagining myself at the edge of the ocean outside the Royal Palace, the soft light of the moon illuminating the foaming edge of the water as it caressed my feet.
But now, that water was toxic, that city gone, and my heart again burned with anger.
He’d left me behind.
I lay on my back in the bunk, battling the fucking hardware in my brain. Every time I resisted its pull, I paid in pain. So I stopped resisting. I accepted its limits and counted the seconds, and then the minutes.
When I counted fifteen minutes, I was able to rise and stand. I inhaled, tasting the metallic, recycled oxygen, exhaling more than I dragged in. Finally, I’d calmed enough to take a step, and then another, until I left our room and walked back to the small gym. I looked around, seeing my reflection at all sides. I saw Pasha, a weak slave. I saw the slave who’d gamed the artificial restraints and survived. I saw Helios, who had a future. I walked to the wall where weapons were displayed and reached, gently lifting down the curved, golden kilij. I watched my reflection as I swung the blade, feeling its weight and balance.
“Griffin said to stay behind,” I told the reflection. “But he hasn’t returned. Thus, Griffin is in need of my help.” I nodded, seeing all the reflected images nod as well. “If Griffin is in trouble, he cannot change the order he gave. He cannot call for help.” That seemed logical enough.
I checked the reaction of my body to that statement. “Therefore, I must go help Griffin.” I started for the door, coming up short as the chip reacted, slowing me before I could leave. I breathed again, tamping down my agitation. I looked into the gray eyes of the Helios closest to me.
“Griffin needs me.” I turned to the next refection. “He isn’t here to rescind his command.” The big bastard.
“Thus, I must serve him by seeking him out and saving him.”
Wrong.
I bit my lip, seeking the right words to convince that tiny, conditioned center of my brain. I took a step toward the door, feeling my limbs grow heavy. I staggered, leaning against the mirror. I looked in gray eyes. “If he dies, it will be my fault.”
The weariness lifted slightly.
“If he is dead, I cannot serve him.”
Oh, the chip liked that. I straightened, still gazing at my reflection. “It is my duty to serve Griffin.”
I was so going to kill him when this whole thing was over. I tightened my grip on the kilij and left the gym, through the winding corridors, and out into the dock, sealing the Aida behind me. I took cautious steps, walking slowly through the docks, my limbs weak and heavy, muttering the litany as I walked.
“It is my duty to serve Griffin. If he dies, it will be my fault.” I rolled my eyes at the idiocy of the mantra. Damned if I’d walk through the halls of the station dragging a sword and mumbling like a madman.
I straightened, pulling back my shoulders, dropping my chin slightly. I glanced around watchfully, shivering at the sensation that I wasn’t alone. There were probably cameras, but I couldn’t do anything about those. I could focus only on setting one foot in front of the other. More than once, I stopped, looking back over my shoulder, the urge to return to the Aida almost more powerful than I could bear. There was a tickle at my nose. I touched, my fingers coming away smeared with blood.
That couldn’t be good.
The answer here wasn’t to fight through the pain, to crash like a bull into the conditioning and Griffin’s command. I needed to trick the chip, to fulfill Griffin’s command another way.
He’d told me to go back to the cabin and rest. Well, I’d done that. I’d rested. He told me to stay behind. It had been his wish. Not his command.
I felt a smile pulling at my lips. I gave a small laugh.
“You didn’t command me, Griffin. And I know you felt like shit forcing me to stay behind. Because you hate ordering me around.” I laughed out loud and continued forward. I wasn’t fully up to speed, but I could walk, I could see, and I didn’t seem to be leaking blood from any other orifices. I looked up, blinked at the blurry images of signs on the walls. Signs directing the traveler to specific berths, to engineering, to check-in and administration. Signs pointing the way to the closest bank of elevators.
I headed that direction, my eyes watering from strain and fatigue. I heard the clanging of machinery, or perhaps freight being offloaded. I heard muted shouts of workers and… Carlotta?
Shit!
I broke into a run, feeling weights in my legs and hammering in my head. Down the corridor, I spotted a scene of chaos, bodies scattered about, blood splattered on the walls, and a knot of people engaged in battle. Stray energy shots scarred the walls, and metal scraped and clanged, sparking as blades struck the walls.
“Griffin!” I shouted, sprinting forward, all discomfort fleeing my limbs. He was under attack! I drove my way into the crowd, slashing, stabbing—kicking and punching. I saw his eye widen as I left a bloody line across the throat of a fighter to his right… his blind side. Without thought, I positioned myself to that side, covering him as the attackers fought with greater fury.
“Leave one alive—” Carlotta snapped, and I pulled my blade from the abdomen of a short, muscular human male. Too late.
“Not my job,” I growled, parrying a knife blade that came snaking toward my face. “You’re the bodyguard.”
She cursed and spun into a kick, taking down another human. One she could keep alive if she so wished.
“They’re gonna have station guards down here soon,” she replied. “Finish up.”
Griffin grunted a nonverbal reply, and I turned slightly, my heart freezing at the sight of blood. He’d taken more than one strike—blood ran freely down his dark trousers, dripping from the leather of his boots. My distraction cost me, and I felt a sharp kiss of pain, a sensation I recognized yet had no memory of. A long red streak opened along my right arm and it went numb, so I switched hands, remotely bemused to realize I was proficient with both hands.
I lunged at a large female fighter, humanoid but far taller and broader than even Griffin. An Amwere? She tried to sweep me off my feet and I jumped, kicking low, knocking her to her knees. She fell hard and cursed, her wicked long blade slipping from her hand. I landed, ducked a blow with my left, and swung the attack onto the woman, sending them both skidding across the floor.
My heart raced and my skin prickled with sweat. For the first time in my memory, I fought. I embraced the violence and the blood. As long as Griffin was at my side, I fought without tiring. I struck at my enemy with just enough fear in my heart to keep me sharp and alive. I wasn’t a priest or a king or a father or a lover—I was a warrior.
Using the tip of my kilij, I sprung the woman’s fallen blade up into the air, catching it with only a trace of clumsiness in my injured hand, and I swung around, ready to fight, ready to attack. I spun again, seeking my enemy, until Griffin loomed in front of me, blocking my way.
“It’s over,” he shouted. At least it sounded as though he was shouting in the sudden silence. I spun, looking at the bodies on the floor around us. Bodies everywhere. Some dead, others writhing and groaning. “It’s over, Lio. We need to report the attack. We need to get you back to the ship.”
I looked at my right hand. It was numb, and I watched in shock as the blade slipped from my fingers.
My bloody fingers. A massive wound on my arm bled profusely, dripping to the floor. Carlotta w
as at my side, tightly pressing a pad of white bandaging to my arm. As it soaked through, she tossed it away. “Griffin, I’ll need more packing.” I saw Griffin running to a brightly colored box on the wall, pulling it down and tearing off the lid. He dug out more of the white fabric and pressed it to the wound as Carlotta wrapped it tightly.
“Security’s coming. I told the command station to review the security footage. We’ll have to hole up for a few hours till they clear us.” Griffin wadded more padding and Carlotta took it, swabbing various cuts and abrasions on his body.
“You’re hurt worse than I am,” I said, using my left arm to take the box. I looked around us, growing queasy. We were on a bloody deck, surrounded by at least a dozen bodies. One or two survivors had crawled away and were now leaning against the blood-spattered walls. The large woman I suspected was an Amwere struggled to her feet, staggering toward an access door.
“Stop her!” Griffin shouted, his voice hoarse and raw. Carlotta sprung after her, but the door slammed. She wrenched at the handle, but it was latched from the inside.
“Shit.” She returned to us, moving with a slight limp. Her clothing was bloody and tattered, and she was peppered with cuts and abrasions. Her hair was bedraggled, the braid coming undone. She’d switched from heels to flat boots, and they were spattered with gore. She changed directions and walked to the open door of the passenger lift.
“Look, Griffin, found my luggage!” He chuckled and I looked at him in surprise. He was laughing, right there in the aftermath of a battle. He then winced, obviously in pain.
“Do we need first aid? A doctor?” I saw a raw-looking burn on Griffin’s shoulder, a slash on his hip. His pants were soaked with dark blood. Now that the initial fight was over, I was jittery. My hands shook and my legs were weak. My mind whirled, unable to settle on a clear path of thought. My thoughts scrambled, remembering the fight, the falling bodies, the sensation of hot blood on my face, a horse between my legs, and the overwhelming fear of pain, capture, and death. Old memories slammed into me with the force of a missile and I bent down, my ass against the wall, my fists on my knees. I panted, shoving those memories into the past, and stood up, rocked by the fight, and what preceded it.
My skin went hot with fury, and immediately the chip compensated, flooding my brain with whatever chemical effectively neutered me, making me sleepy and complacent.
But I had blood on my hands and the dead at my feet. I shoved the fatigue away and forced my fury back into hot, blazing life. My eyes burned at the internal defiance. Something warm trickled from my right ear. I wiped it away.
I glared at Griffin. His skin went pale.
“You sent me to my room—as though I were a child!”
He swallowed hard, lifting his chin slightly in defiance. He wasn’t going to back down. When Griffin did something he believed was right, it was right, with no possible compromise.
“Do not ever do that again,” I said, my voice low and shaking with anger. “Ever!”
In the distance, I heard the claxon of an alarm, footsteps pounding in unison, the hum of med units being wheeled in.
We were in trouble, and unwillingly, I broke eye contact. I saw Carlotta intercept the commander of the security unit, hands out to her sides, her sidearms sheathed. She spoke quietly and urgently, and in moments, the officers lowered their weapons, allowing med units in to attend to the wounded and dead.
“Well dang. You folks made a mess here!” A cleanup team had arrived, standing back, waiting for the bodies to be cleared. Bewildered, I looked around at the man. He stood, fists on his hips, a chilling smile on his face. His eyes were obscured behind safety goggles, and a black hat concealed his hair. His blond brows arched sharply upward. He wore heavy gloves and pulled a haz-mask over his face. He then started bagging weapons and body parts. With a gloved hand, he scooped up the rubbish from my field dressing, shoved it into a black envelope, and tossed it into a large red can, along with other biological waste. Body parts went into a blue container, weapons into yellow. He hummed as he worked, and in his wake, shining silver sweepers cleared the floor. The scent of disinfectant stung my nose.
This man loved his job a little too much. I shuddered. Seeing my discomfort, he grinned. He reminded me of the merc on the shuttle from Warlan. Had we been followed?
Carlotta finished with the commander, the bodies were bagged, the wounded lifted onto gurneys and whisked away. She joined us, her body sagging with fatigue, her sharp eyes belying the message her body sent.
“Let’s get to your ship. I think this is a very good time for us to leave.”
Chapter Twelve
EVERY TIME I closed my eyes, the image of Helios streaking toward us seared my vision.
He’d come down the corridor like a Fury, his hair streaming, blood streaking his face, spattering his clothing, but his blade shining and clean. Whatever he’d done to break through the chip’s regulation, it had cost him. The damage to his brain could be profound, which was why we diverted from our original destination and docked at a small, private station on Landis 17. Rather than venture into the city, I contracted a pair of Vash healers to come scan Helios. A tall, gaunt-looking male handled our sundry cuts and bruises. The other sat quietly at his bedside, her gray eyes distant and blind as she visualized his nervous system, internal organs, and his brain.
She then put him into a deep, healing sleep. He’d been unable to rest after the fight, his blood pressure and adrenaline high, his anger tangled with illogical remorse for disobeying my orders. That angered him even more.
When his eyes began leaking bloody tears, we slipped into AD space onto the fastest route we could navigate. He’d been in bad shape when we docked at the station. We didn’t dare risk moving him, so the Vash came to us.
The healer stood, walked past me without looking, and I realized she might very well be unable to see. The lights were set higher than her eyes could handle, and unlike her partner, she didn’t wear tinted shades. Muttering at my own stupidity, I reset the systems on the ship to adapt to Vash eyesight. The lights dimmed, and her oblong pupils dilated.
“Captain Hawke, as you probably realize, your friend has a slave chip inserted in his brain.” She waved her hand about her head, indicating the frontal lobes. “I can do nothing to remove it, but I was able to seal the bleeds and reduce the inflammation in his brain. But it’s located in a very dangerous position, so I don’t recommend removal.” The other Vash joined her. “I suspect there is a way to deactivate the chip. It’s quite sophisticated, but it is just a tiny bit of hardware.”
The other Vash spoke. “If he opts for removal, Somian healers are doing very impressive things with neural surgery. We’ve been fortunate to observe Vash and Somian teams working together. There is hope, regardless of which avenue he chooses.”
I nodded. It was only as I suspected, yet a small hope that we could remove it died. The original course of action was still the best. I sighed, feeling the pressure around my heart loosen. The Somian species had advanced neural surgery to near impossible heights, but the idea of digging into Helio’s brain to remove the chip frightened me.
The idea of it remaining there terrified me. And my conundrum? I couldn’t make the decision for him, while Helios would defer to any decision I made. And still, I couldn’t take the lead on this. He wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to make decisions about surgery this dangerous.
“With time and rest, he’ll be fine.” She smiled, and a wave of comfort wafted over me. She probably wasn’t a telepath, but there were other ways for healers to heal. Souls could also be injured. She probably didn’t realize she was doing it. So I smiled, paid the pair, and Carlotta saw them off the ship.
I returned to Helios, sat next to his bed, and took his hand in mine. It was still soft but beginning to roughen with new calluses. His muscles were harder. There were lines of stress and fatigue on his face, even though he slept. He shifted slightly, and his hand tightened on mine, then relaxed. I swallowed hard, feeli
ng that I had rocks in my throat. I dragged in a deep breath, then stood, turning as Carlotta entered the room.
She’d brought food. Still hot and fresh. “I wasn’t sure what you have for provisions…” she looked at the sealed boxes and shrugged. “Never did learn to cook that well anyway. And someone was smart enough to set up a kiosk outside the docks, so help yourself.” She was embarrassed. Or uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure.
“What’s the prognosis?”
I shrugged. “Not great, but not awful. The damage wasn’t fatal, but he can’t go on fighting commands much longer.” I stirred the spicy vegetable dish before me. Like anyone who spent too much time in space, fresh produce was a luxury I savored. “I don’t think he fought the chip when U’shma had him.”
“He had no emotional connection to U’shma. He does to you.” She sipped steaming coffee from a heavy mug. “I remember how he fought before. He was no different today. Frankly, I’m shocked. I thought he’d gone soft.”
He’d been no different except the blood running from his nose, the lines of agony carved onto his face. The desperation to protect me. That’s what he’d been doing. His drive to protect his master had overcome the programmed obedience. I stifled a groan. This was all so wrong.
“Can they remove the chip?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Theoretically, yes, but it’s too risky. But it’s just a chip. A bit of hardware. No matter how sophisticated, any system can be hacked, and any data can be obliterated. I know someone who can do the job.”
My last resort. I stabbed a chunk of something green with a fork.
“You don’t look happy.” She began eating also, swift and efficient. She’d grown used to eating with squads of fighters, where eating was competitive, and often on the run. In war, there was no time to savor the luxuries.
“There are no good choices. I’ll get the chip deactivated. If he wants it removed completely, he’ll have to arrange that later.”
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