by Ben Hale
“They look good,” Walt said, his gravelly voice lighter than normal. “And don’t worry, I’ll let Mora know you’ll be back soon.”
Surprised by the unexpectedly kind gesture, Reklin eyed Walt. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown attached to her.”
“No,” Walt said, “I just know that if I don’t give her some comfort, I’ll get to listen to seventy hours of questions. That girl has more willpower than Visika.”
They shared a grin, and despite Walt’s denial, Reklin got the impression he had grown fond of Mora. He would still kill her if ordered, but at least he would take care of her while Reklin was gone.
“You have my gratitude,” Reklin said.
“Visika will meet you at the Gate Chamber,” he said. “Gellow is at the end of the hall, and he’ll escort you down.”
Reklin turned away and followed the prisoner corridor to the end, where Gellow was leaning against a wall. He looked Reklin up and down, his eyes lingering on his insignia, and then his horns.
“You look fifty years younger,” he said. “But you’re still ugly.”
Reklin fell into step beside his former captain. “Tell me, if someone else had reported you to the Empire, would we still be friends?”
Gellow seemed taken aback by the question, and as they threaded their way through the ship’s corridors, he didn’t respond. But when they reached the door to the holochamber, he paused and faced Reklin.
“I do miss my friend,” Gellow admitted. “He was annoyingly honest, but I could always count on him in a fight.”
“I miss my friend too,” Reklin said. “He made me laugh, even when the odds were overwhelming and we were about to die, I knew he would make us smile.”
Gellow grunted, a sound of both amusement and regret. “She’s waiting for you.”
Reklin reached for the door cortex but paused. “I need to ask a favor of you.”
Gellow was incredulous. “You think I owe you something?”
“I saved your life hundreds of times,” Reklin said. “That ought to count for something. And besides, all I want is for you to make sure Mora gets back to Rebor if I die. She’s too little to remember anything and she doesn’t deserve to be killed on my account.”
Gellow looked away, then back, before shrugging. “No promises. But I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you,” Reklin said.
He opened the door and entered the Gate Chamber. Visika was standing inside, talking to a krey who was dressed as a fleet captain. Another two dakorians were also present, the pair dressed in the same attire of Shard soldiers. Visika was the only one with the rank of captain on her horns, while Reklin and the others all had two bars, marking them as lieutenants.
Visika eyed the group. “We’re entering at the base of the Seventh Pyramid, which sits adjacent to Tower Seven. Reklin’s former quarters are on the eight hundred thirty-seventh level. We’ll have to take an interior Gate to access it. Once inside, Reklin will use his officer codes to access the network. Hoggle is under the persona of a fleet captain, so if we encounter any krey, he will dissuade them from looking too closely. Stay together and behind Hoggle. Whatever happens, keep Reklin alive unless I order otherwise.”
The two dakorians and the krey all nodded. They would die to protect Reklin, so he could infiltrate the military network and become a traitor. Of all the things he’d done since turning away from the Empire, this was the largest betrayal, and he grappled with the impending decision.
“What are you going to do when I give you access?” Reklin asked.
“That doesn’t matter to you,” Visika said.
“It does if you plan on taking down an entire battalion,” Reklin said. “I won’t help you kill thousands, even to save Mora.”
The other dakorians stared at Reklin, and the tension in the room spiked. Reklin held Visika’s gaze, hoping she would not call his bluff. But it was a tactical gamble. She obviously was willing to risk a great deal to get him inside his former quarters, and if she did kill Mora, she would lose her leverage on him.
“What we’re here to do is of a personal nature,” she finally said. “This doesn’t have to do with House Bright’Lor, the Empire, or another House.”
Reklin had not expected such an answer, but it was obvious she spoke the truth. He gave a curt nod, and the others relaxed. Then Visika activated the Gate and led the way through the portal.
Reklin exited in the main Gate Chamber of the Seventh Pyramid. The large chamber had twelve Gates, four on three sides of the room, with the fourth wall open to the corridor. Visika had picked a time when activity would be at a minimum, and Reklin tried not to think of what he would have to do if he was recognized. He joined Visika as they exited and turned west, towards the tower he’d called home for the last several decades.
The familiar scent of cold seracrete and crisp military uniforms brought back a surge of memories. With his secret augment, he was able to recall every conversation in the hall, every interaction with friends, every mission. Through the lens of his new understanding of the Empire, he saw a legacy of manipulation, of an Empire that used his race like weapons of bone and muscle.
“You look like you feel guilty about betraying the military,” Visika murmured.
“The only guilt I feel is misplacing my loyalty for so many years,” he replied.
She gave him an appraising look. “Perhaps there is hope for you yet.”
He did not respond. Although he’d turned against the Empire, he despised the Burning Ghosts. They trafficked in addiction and vice, their products siphoning honor from dakorians and krey alike. But if Visika thought he was turning to her side, perhaps he could use that to his advantage.
The group followed the winding corridors at the base of the pyramid, casually greeting those they passed. Hoggle used his holoview to install a corrupter into the vid recorders they passed. Reklin recognized the code. It wasn’t too dissimilar from the code he’d used on missions. But with his memory augment, he could now read the lines of symbols.
Even without the vids recording their passage, they couldn’t do anything about the dakorians stationed at strategic chokepoints in the structure. All soldiers carried unique holoview crystals embedded into their left wrists. It was the primary means of communication, but also doubled as a means of identification. It was linked directly to the genetic code of the soldier, making it impossible to falsify.
Reklin tensed as they approached the first guard post leading to the base of his former barracks, but his concern was unnecessary. The group moved through, the vid on the wall identifying them as they passed. He was himself, of course, but none of his companions were accurate. Reklin could only assume they’d bribed a soldier to alter the genetic tags to match the new identities.
They passed the guard post and entered the base of one of the barracks towers. A thousand levels high, the tower was attached to several others around the central pyramid, where the higher-ranked dakorians organized the missions. The pyramid and barracks towers operated under a single command, with forty-nine divisions controlled by each member of the Bone Council. The krey of the fleet typically called them admirals, and all were Bloodwalls.
At the base of Barracks Seven in the 16th Division, twenty smaller Gates were set about the room. The only access to the barracks was through the Gates, and again, a genetic identity tag was required. Soldiers only had access to the floor they were assigned to, and Visika motioned Reklin forward. The scanner recognized his senior officer’s code, and the Gate automatically connected to his floor.
He passed through the Gate and came to a halt in the barracks he’d left several months ago. So much had happened since he’d been given the mission to infiltrate House Bright’Lor that it felt foreign.
The central room was large and open, befitting his status as a Shard captain. Private bedchambers were on the south side, while a fully stocked armory extended from the main room. Enormous windows provided a resplendent view of the 16th Divisional Command. In the distan
ce he could see the glass-and-gold towers of the commercial district rising above the clouds. Visika, Gellow, and the other two entered and surveyed the empty room.
“We’re inside,” Reklin said. “Now what?”
“Reklin, with me,” Visika said. “The rest of you, watch the Gate.”
Hoggle, Gellow, and the two dakorians took up positions by the Gate. Since Reklin’s entire team was supposedly undercover with House Bright’Lor, no one was likely to appear unless they were an enemy. Visika crossed the room to a command crystal, where Reklin could access the restricted military network.
“Unlock it,” Visika said.
Reklin used his holoview to input his command code. A holo appeared above the panel, inviting a query. Visika took his place and inserted a cortex into the slot. With his access she linked into a secure archive that contained a portion of the Empire’s genome. She had to add access from two other identities before the system allowed her to make a copy.
“The genetic archive?” Reklin asked. “Who are you looking for?”
Visika seemed to have forgotten he was there. She finished the copy and then deleted the search record. Just as she did, the entire holo froze. Visika instinctively removed her hands, but the holo did not react.
She cursed and spun to the Gate. “They know we’re here. Lock down the Gate.”
Hoggle jumped to the Gate controls, but before he could, a hulking figure stepped through the opening. His sudden appearance was met by three ion bolts from Gellow and his two companions, but the towering dakorians swerved and ducked. Two missed entirely, though the third grazed his side. The distraction gave Hoggle time to shut down the Gate. Just as he finished, the dakorian spun his hammer and struck once, crushing the krey to the floor. Gellow and the other two Ghosts retreated to Visika, and the dakorian straightened and twisted, turning his face to Reklin. It was Quel, Malikin’s personal Bloodwall.
“Malikin said you had returned, but I did not believe him,” Quel said. “I thought you were too smart to return. I guess I was wrong.”
“Quel,” Visika said, “I’m surprised Malikin let you off your leash.”
The dakorian ignored her and pointed his hammer at Reklin. “I was foolish to ever think you could be a Bloodwall. Serving the Ghost Queen shows your lack of caliber.”
“This is still my quarters,” Reklin said. “I have every right to be here.”
Quel gave a bark of laughter. “The only reason your code is still active is because Malikin hoped you’d be stupid enough to return. We both know you’ve turned against the Empire.”
Reklin eyed the powerful Bloodwall who had tested him several months ago. Reklin had lost, badly. Visika never took her gaze from Quel, and her own hammer was now in her hands. Reklin hadn’t even seen her draw.
“You would have turned too,” Reklin said, “if you’d seen what I have.”
Quel sneered. “You had a mission to accomplish.”
“And Malikin would have killed me when it was over,” Reklin growled.
“True,” Quel said, “but that is the lot of a common soldier, to die when ordered.”
“This soldier said no.”
Visika groaned and rolled her eyes. “Enough. Quel. Let’s see how good you really are.”
Quel finally shifted his attention to Visika. “With pleasure.” He spun his hammer and glided forward.
Chapter Nineteen
Reklin took one step towards the fight, but Visika caught his shoulder bone and yanked him backwards. Unprepared for the attack, he fell and landed on a couch, flattening it to the floor. Quel ripped through the Ghosts at the Gate, crushing them.
“You’re no match for a Bloodwall,” Visika called over her shoulder. “He’s mine.”
She stepped over Reklin and charged Quel. Standing over the two dead dakorians, the Bloodwall was forced to turn away from Gellow to face Visika. Their hammers came together in a ringing clash.
Gellow was knocked into a couch and tumbled out of view. Reklin scrambled backwards as the two soldiers raged, the weapons and ion bolts moving almost too fast to follow. Furniture was shattered, and ion bolts scored the walls and ceiling.
Reklin ducked into his team’s armory to avoid the blasts, while Gellow leapt a table and joined him in the alcove. The room was long and slender, with four closets filled to the brim with weapons, tools, and explosives. It didn’t have a door, but the sides of the opening turned inward, providing a measure of cover. Reklin and Gellow claimed opposite sides of the opening.
“We have to get out of here,” Reklin shouted over the raging duel. He flinched when the two slammed into a nearby wall.
“Are you always this brilliant in combat?” Gellow held his leg where an ion burn had blackened the flesh. It was superficial, but painful enough slow him down.
Reklin fleetingly wondered if he should abandon them both. With his memory augment, he probably knew enough to get onboard Visika’s ship. But could he get Mora out? He calculated the risk and grimaced.
“You think she can kill him?” Reklin asked.
“It’s Visika,” he said flatly.
“Can she kill him before reinforcements arrive?”
Gellow glanced around the corner, where the two fought with unbridled fury. Visika had gotten a hold of Quel’s horn and, with a hurling twist, sent him tumbling across the floor. He bounced twice before crashing into the kitchen. The all-glass cabinets shattered, raining fragments onto his head.
“You’ll pay for that,” Quel snarled, rising to his feet.
“No,” Gellow finally said. “Quel is formidable, and while Visika is not one to doubt, we probably have less than five minutes before more soldiers find a way in here.”
“Then that’s how long we have to find a way out,” Reklin said.
“Do you have a suggestion?” Gellow asked. He leaned out and aimed his hammer, but the two perfected dakorians moved too quickly to risk firing.
“I’m working on it,” Reklin said.
The Gate was a smoking ruin, with sparks sputtering from the crushed cortex console. There was no other exit. It was only a matter of time until a group of soldiers showed up to investigate. Gates rarely failed, but when they did, they sent a portable Gate generator through a window and teleported a krey engineer to fix the cortex. Already Reklin spotted the distant profile of a pair of Ro fighters approaching the tower to investigate. They’d probably already attempted the Gate and found it non-functioning.
“We need to get that Gate working,” Gellow growled.
Reklin jerked his head, automatically dismissing that idea. Even if they could get it working, there was no way they could alter it to reach anywhere but the base of the tower. They needed another exit.
The obvious answer was to go up or down, but the floor was designed to be impregnable. As Quel and Visika battled for dominance, Reklin used his memory augment to sift through his past. He’d never been on the floor above, but the floor below belonged to another Shard team, one captained by a dakorian named Threk. A friend. Reklin had visited his quarters on a handful of occasions, and recalled a section of the ceiling that had a bulge. When Reklin had asked, Threk had laughed.
“My team likes to play catch with a live det explosive,” he’d said. “A year ago, my lieutenant missed and it got stuck to the ceiling. They couldn’t remove it without risking an explosion, so they patched it over themselves and never told me. I didn’t want to file a report, so I just let it stay in the ceiling.”
The embedded explosive lay beneath a spot in the kitchen, providing a unique opportunity. Sticking to the wall, Reklin jumped to his own armory and opened the door. Inside, he picked up the energy sunderblade Quel had given him and placed it on his back, then stuffed a handful of other things he wanted to keep in a bag.
Gellow limped into the opening and fired into the main room. “You’re packing now?”
“I doubt I’ll ever be able to return,” Reklin said, slinging the pack over his shoulder.
“You won’t
be leaving if we don’t fix that Gate,” he snapped.
“Go to Worg’s armory, across from mine,” Reklin ordered. “Get as many dets as you can find.”
“What are you going to do?” he demanded. “Blow a hole through the floor?”
Reklin shot him a look and went back to grabbing his gear.
“You can’t be serious,” Gellow said. “It’s three feet of seracrete. You’d need a hundred dets to get through that.”
Reklin whirled and caught him by the throat. Lifting him off the floor, he slammed him into the wall and pinned him in place. Gellow was too surprised by the attack to retaliate, and merely struggled in his grip.
“You can either have an explanation, or you can live. There’s not enough time for both.”
An explosion rocked the armory and shattered a few of the windows. Smoke and dust billowed out, the plume swirling as the two Ro fighters banked and circled the tower.
Gellow managed a nod. “I’ll get the dets.”
Reklin dropped him and left his own armory. In a burst of motion, he crossed the antechamber lined with benches. He caught a glimpse of Visika, pinned beneath Quel, as the two rolled around on the floor. Then Reklin slammed through Teridon’s door and entered his private armory.
The room was small and rectangular, with weapons lining the walls and crates on the floor. Dakorians typically favored the hammer lance for its versatility, but some preferred older weapons, of which Teridon had collected many. Eight hundred years ago, projectile weapons had been common, and Teridon had reserved an entire wall for them, including Mark IV repeaters, plasma rocket launchers, incineration rifles, brute cannons, flak launchers, voidguns, and more. At the center was Teridon’s pride, a six-hundred-year-old Z-730 kiltracer. As Reklin picked it off the wall, Gellow appeared with a det belt.
“Don’t tell me you’re trusting our fate to that thing,” he said. “It’s a relic.”
Reklin shoved him out of the way and took up position on the side of the armory opening. The center room was wrecked, with furniture in smoking ruins. One table had miraculously survived, with Alina’s seracrete dagger sticking up from the center. Reklin raised the long-barreled kiltracer to his shoulder and aimed at Quel and Visika.