by Ben Hale
They lapsed into silence, too tense to speak. Reklin counted the seconds. Even with his augment, he was afraid he was wrong, that the ship would be recalled, or that more ships would come from Arnock, intent on hunting them down. Visika wanted the augments, and would not let her one link to House Bright’Lor escape. They would come for him.
Ahead, the nebula gradually thinned, the gravity nodes pulling back the final clouds to reveal open space. Reklin breathed a sigh of relief as he saw stars for the first time in six months.
Niset cried out, unable to contain his excitement. “We’re free!”
“We’re close,” Reklin said. “Don’t forget Visika probably has defenses out here. When the cargo ship prepares to make the jump to hyperlight, drop us out and let us drift away.”
“Done,” he said.
Their stealth ship drifted to the side, like a small chunk of rock that had been caught up the gravity drive of the cargo ship. Ahead, three projection rings appeared, and the cargo ship accelerated into the first, which propelled them to the second and third. In an instant it jumped to hyperlight.
The rings faded as Niset crowed. “Let’s get out of here before they realize we already escaped the nebula. Once I drop you off, I can head home. I just need the coordinates of your destination.”
“You can drop me at Mylttium. I can make my way from there.”
“Nonsense,” Niset said. “The ship doesn’t have enough power for that. I’ll need to take you to your home or neither one of us will make it.”
Reklin froze. “What?”
Niset was still smiling. “Just let me know the coordinates and we’ll be on our way.”
Reklin grimaced, the sudden realization so sharp it hurt. He sped through his memories over the last four months, hoping he was wrong. Niset, being dropped into the next cell. Niset, being put just two prisoners away from Reklin in the fields, close enough to talk. Niset, talking about family and friends. And Niset, suggesting if they could get a ship together, he could pilot them out of the system. It was the one piece Reklin had been missing. And it had been provided.
In a surge of motion, Reklin grabbed Niset by the throat and yanked him from his chair. The krey squeaked in surprise before Reklin slammed him against the hull. Twice he rocked him against the seracrete, enough to instill fear but not crush his skull.
“Is Visika tracking us?”
“What are you doing?” Niset demanded, clawing at his hands. “I thought we were allies.”
“How is she tracking me?” Reklin snarled.
“You’re paranoid,” Niset snapped. “Now put me down!”
Reklin tightened his grip and leaned in, his bony features so close he could see the flecks of black in the krey’s golden irises. He pressed him against the bulkhead, grinding him into the metal until he squirmed.
“Tell me, or I snap your neck here and now.”
Niset looked into Reklin’s eyes and recoiled. “Okay! She put a subdermal beacon through your food.”
“When?”
“A week ago.”
Reklin closed his eyes and bounced him against the metal. The krey, unconscious but alive, slumped to his feet. Wearily, Reklin sank into his chair and looked out the window at the welcome view, knowing it was all false.
He sat for several moments, just watching the stars gradually rotate through the forward window. His fingers balled into fists, the waves of anger washing over him at the deception. Then he could take it no longer, and slammed his hand down on the beamcast. The holo opened a broad signal to anyone nearby.
“Nice try, Visika,” he said, “but you can come get me when you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.”
He settled back into his seat as warning lights appeared across the panel, and ships emerged from just inside the nebula to swarm the stealth escape pod. Within seconds, a gravity clamp fastened on the pod’s hull and pulled them upward.
Chapter Six
Reklin remained in his seat as the gravity clamp pulled the escape pod into a cargo bay of a larger vessel. From the glass hull and white seracrete it was obviously a Meltia class, probably stolen. It was a light cruiser designed for nobles that needed a ship to flaunt their wealth, but the strategically placed black seracrete plating probably hid lance rods and additional shield emitters.
The cargo bay was two decks high, and was empty except for a small contingent of dakorians, krey, and humans waiting to receive him. Reklin struggled to contain his irritation. He should have seen the deception coming.
The black escape pod settled onto the deck and cutting lances applied to the hull. Reklin was content to wait, and didn’t bother to stand until the hull was ripped open and a pair of heavily tattooed dakorians pointed hammer lances at his back.
“Out. Now.”
Reklin stood and stepped over the unconscious body of Niset. He ducked his head, and the two soldiers caught his elbows, yanking him into the cargo bay. Another pair caught him, holding him in place as the first group searched the pod. Pronouncing it empty, one dragged Niset out and dropped him at Visika’s feet.
Visika never took her eyes from Reklin. At eight feet tall she was short for a dakorian, but her five horns pointed up and outward like a crown, giving her an imposing air. A former Bloodblade, she’d had her body perfected in a genesis chamber, making her impervious to sickness and aging. Any past wounds had long since healed, but the host of tattoos marked the scars. Her reflexes and muscle tissue were stronger and faster than anyone except another Bloodwall, but her cunning mind was what truly set her apart.
“What gave it away?” she asked, amused.
“Niset,” Reklin said. “He overplayed his role.”
Visika motioned for Niset to be dragged away. “You are more clever than I gave you credit for, Captain Reklin.”
“Not clever enough,” he said, “or I would have scanned myself for a subdermal beacon. How did you get it into my body, by the way?”
“I had it added a dose at a time,” she said.
“A risk,” Reklin said. “Subdermal beacons break down within days.”
“Which was why I added it to every meal. Enough to keep the beacon intact.”
Reklin hated her, even as he admired the tactic. Subdermal beacons were composed of millions of seracrete pieces that could coalesce around a tiny gravity sphere. Once formed it would gradually break down in the body’s blood, so adding a consistent amount at every meal would reinforce the beacon to ensure it stayed active.
“I’m not taking you to House Bright’Lor,” he said.
She cocked her head to the side. “You are the first to escape Arnock, did you know that?”
“You let me.”
“I would have,” she admitted. “I posted fewer guards at the Gates leading to the space station, and even left a few ships nearby where you could have seen them. I assumed that was your intent. Instead you took a ship that even I did not know was on the planet. How did you know it was inside the prison?”
Reklin shrugged. “A friend in the military liked to study ancient ships. He had a holo of the Oveglin-class ships and liked to talk about the captain’s escape pod.”
It was a partial truth, but covered the fact that he’d only seen the holo once. Reklin could never let her know he was an augment. She did not seem to suspect him, and merely smiled, her expression one of admiration.
“And the sparker? Raising it in your cell was pure genius.”
“How did you think I was going to get out of the cell?”
“Force,” she replied with a shrug. “The doors are weak on the hinge side.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for my next attempt.”
“You won’t need it,” she said, turning away and motioning them to follow.
The soldiers fastened a pair of seracrete bindings on his wrists and forced him to follow the diminutive dakorian. He wanted to resist, but there were seventeen guards in the room, not to mention a subtle bulge near one corner, the exact shape of a lance rod hidden behind a pane
l.
“You’re not taking me back to Arnock?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “You’ve defied nineteen attempts to get the truth from your lips.”
“I thought it was twenty-six.”
The woman gave a knowing smile. “But this latest failure has given me an idea.”
“I’m not betraying House Bright’Lor,” he repeated.
She smiled again. “Trust me. You will.”
He didn’t like her confidence. The last time he’d seen her she’d been angry and resentful, but now she looked smug. What was she planning? The guards guided him up through the ship, aptly named the Alpha Queen. He’d assumed it had been stolen, but he saw no hint of damage, so it hadn’t been boarded by a hostile force. Maybe stolen from a shipyard?
Visika noticed his examination of the ship. “Do you like it?”
“Stolen or bought?” he asked.
“Bought. While the Ghosts operate outside Imperial law, we still need legitimate businesses from which to sell our goods. My primary vessel is still damaged from the fight at the Trithorn System.”
Reklin remembered the Black Moon, Visika’s powerful ship that had tangled with the Kildor, with both coming away limping. It was a testament to Visika’s forethought that she’d survived at all, but the damage had been significant.
Visika led him to the bridge of the Alpha Queen. As bright as the rest of the ship, the bridge boasted an entirely glass hull. The bridge was shaped like a diamond, and extended into a forward point. Reklin had never liked the ship, and thought it looked far too vulnerable.
Visika motioned to the krey pilot. “Set a course for Rebor.”
Reklin frowned at the mention of his home planet. “Why are we going to Rebor?”
“As I said,” she replied, “you have proven surprisingly resilient to interrogation, forcing me to get creative in obtaining the truth about the augment world.”
“Why do you even want the augments?” Reklin asked as the projection gates formed in front of the Alpha Queen. “You have a thriving business selling illicit goods to the perpetually dissatisfied krey.”
A nearby krey grinned. “Truer words were rarely spoken.”
“Reklin,” Visika said, motioning to the krey who’d spoken, “this is Jorvaq, my financial advisor. He may not be a soldier, but he possesses a brilliant mind for commerce and goods.”
Reklin eyed the krey. He was from House Sent’Ith, his white eyes bright with amusement, and yet the family resemblance ended there. He wore a dark robe and bright green shirt with garish golden threading. He was obviously not a fighter.
“The augments are the vanguard of a new Krey Empire,” Jorvaq said. “Their presence will change every aspect of krey life, including production, mining, hospitality, even ship-building and engineering.”
“If the Empire doesn’t destroy them,” Reklin said.
“True,” Visika said, “but Skorn and Ero are proving themselves to be far more devious than even I anticipated. In the last six months they have stolen three slave shipments, and their combined cargo is sufficient to start a harvest world.”
“Having them is not enough to turn them into augments,” Reklin said.
“It is if House Bright’Lor has allies,” Visika said. “And I have learned they formed a trio of alliances. Wylyn, Head of House Mor’Val, Olana, of House Kel’Ray, and Laurik, of House Zeltil’Dor. My sources have informed me that all three transferred eight trillion glint into house Bright’Lor, an investment. Laurik stole the glint from her House and disappeared, and I believe her to be dead. But House Bright’Lor now has the capital and the resources to rebuild, and others have taken notice.”
“So you think two blue-eyed krey are controlling thousands of slaves by themselves?”
Visika chuckled. “In the same time slaves were being taken, krey have been disappearing. A few here, a handful there. They could have been killed, but the clues point to them being recruited. House Bright’Lor has everything they need to not just create a viable population of augments, but bring them to market in a way the Empire cannot destroy. When that happens, the Empire will forever be changed, and someone will be forever rich.”
“So that’s what you want?” Reklin was incredulous. “Wealth?”
“Power,” Visika corrected. “The one who controls the augments is going to have more power than the Emperor.”
“And we intend to be on the right end of that transaction,” Jorvaq said.
“The augments aren’t what you think they are,” Reklin said. “Skorn and Ero have given them power, and they will not be content to stay slaves.”
“Like Siena?” Visika’s eyes glowed. “I saw what she can do, but more importantly, I saw how she refused to kneel to a higher power. It won’t matter. They are—and will always be—animals.”
“I hope you think that when she kills you.”
She laughed, the sound both amused and doubtful. “The Empire was built on creativity and innovation, but in the last few reigns it has become bogged down in tradition. The entire Empire is a bloated mass of greed and excess.”
“Truer words have rarely been spoken,” Reklin said.
Jorvaq laughed at his words returned to him, and Reklin used the distraction to scan the guards. Two dakorians were still at his elbows, ready to grab him if he resisted. Another two were at the door leading to the main ship. There were also a handful of krey officers seated around the bridge at the various command stations. Reklin could probably have overpowered them all, if he didn’t have to contend with Visika.
“You see the Empire for what it is,” Jorvaq said, “but I expect nothing less from one of your caliber.”
“A hornless?” Reklin said, with just a touch of rancor.
“Of course not.” Jorvaq activated his holoview and tossed a holo onto the forward window, replacing the view of passing stars. “Didn’t Visika tell you? You’ve been discharged from the military.”
The holo on the screen showed Reklin himself, standing next to his service record. Eight hundred and thirty-six successful missions, sixteen hundred confirmed kills, an expert in unarmed combat, the sunderblade, and a long lance. At the base of the record was a date from three weeks ago, when he’d been dishonorably discharged—for failure to report to command.
It was a staggering blow, as physical as if Visika had struck him below the ribs. All the blood drained from his neck as he saw the words. He’d been planning on withdrawing anyway, but to see that Visika had robbed him of an honorable release filled his mouth with poison.
He lunged for Jorvaq, but Visika was faster. She caught his bound fists and twisted, sending him to the deck. He landed on his back, the air bursting from his lungs. He growled and made to rise, but Visika put a boot on his neck.
“We hacked your holoview and sent a message to Malikin,” she said mildly, and tossed a crystal onto the floor. It clattered next to Reklin’s arm, and he recognized it as the one she’d taken from his wrist upon his arrival.
“You had no right,” Reklin bellowed, fighting to escape Visika’s boot. But she was stronger than she looked, and despite her small size, kept him in place. “You just destroyed my career!”
“I freed you.” Visika finally released him and the two guards muscled him back to his feet, holding his shoulders to prevent another attack.
He wanted to struggle, to snap and snarl, but instead he tucked the holoview crystal into a fold between the bones on his arm and glared at Visika. “Why?” he demanded.
“I did you a favor,” she said. “We both know that in your heart, you’d already turned against the Empire. It was only a matter of time until you found an official excuse.” She stepped closer and pulled the crystal from its spot on his arm with a faint smile.
“Then why send them such a message?”
“Before you can see your future,” she said, “you must burn your past.”
She turned away from Reklin and waved a hand at the forward vid. It dropped away, and she replaced it with a be
amcast. The opposite end featured Gellow, his sneering face scratched and cut. Blood was on his lip.
“Do you have the package?” Visika asked.
“Of course,” he growled. “What do you want me to do with it?”
“Gate to the Alpha Queen and put the package in a cell,” she said. “It think it’s time Reklin accepts his new future.”
“On my way.”
Visika turned and exited the bridge, the guards forcing Reklin to follow. Anger and worry crept into Reklin’s blood as he followed the powerful woman to a lower deck, then passed down a corridor of clouded glass. Visika walked with a spring in her step, as if she stood on the verge of triumph.
Reklin glanced to the guard on his right and then left. If he could break free, perhaps he could attack her from behind . . .
“It wouldn’t work,” Visika called over her shoulder.
“What wouldn’t work?” he asked.
“Stop imagining you can kill me,” she said. “Even if you are killed in the attempt, I promise I will kill my new prize, and I suspect you’ll want to see her before I do.”
“Her?” Reklin asked.
The Ghost Queen merely smiled. Reklin’s two hearts constricted, and he forced himself to keep himself in check. What was she planning? The corridor ended at a series of three compartments, all converted into interior cells. Shields hummed across the seracrete paneling.
Reklin passed the first, but it was empty. As was the second. Gellow exited the third, shoving someone back inside before activating the door shield. He had more cuts, and was nursing a cracked bone on his arm.
“Are you injured?” Visika mocked.
“She’s a fighter,” he sneered. Then he tapped the wall, and the shield flickered to allow observation from the hall.
Fearing what he would find, yet unable to stop himself, Reklin faced the final cell. He’d considered the possibilities and thought of his mother, Lavana, or Inary, his sister, as the two most likely candidates. But instead, the dakorian in the cell was a whelp. Mora. The three-year-old girl prowled the cell, occasionally striking the wall.