by Ben Hale
“Did you figure out what he’s up to?”
“Not yet,” Skorn said. “But if Visika did speak to Dragorn, he’s too arrogant not to let something slip.”
Skorn and Ero ascended through the underground structure to the pair of offices Erlanex had built for the two of them. Skorn passed his own and, surprisingly, tapped the door cortex to Ero’s chambers. When the door opened, Ero realized his desk had been removed and the room had been converted into a holochamber.
“What did you do to my office?” Ero demanded.
Skorn stepped to the control panel and activated the holo. “I had Erlanex turn it into my personal holochamber.”
“But it’s my office.”
“How many times did you even enter this room? Once? Twice?”
“More than that,” Ero protested.
“Really?” Skorn glanced his direction. “Because it’s been like this for eight months, and you didn’t notice.”
“You could have asked me.”
Skorn stepped to the middle of the room. “Would you have cared?”
Ero wanted to argue, but decided his brother was right. He gave a sour chuckle. “Probably not.”
The banter seemed normal, but the amusement was lacking, and with every smile and glance, there was an undercurrent of distrust. Ero wondered if things would ever be the same between them.
Skorn activated the room, and the holographic walls shimmered. Panel by panel, the room was replaced by Dragorn’s quarters in Condemnation. Ero and Skorn stood in the main chamber, surrounded by its handful of couches, a vid projector dominating one wall, and the single decoration, a holo of an escape pod falling into a sun. A reminder of the fate awaiting those who were judged for an execution.
A krey was sitting on the couch, watching a vid on the projector. He was short and thin, gaunt even, and looked nothing like Dragorn. His eyes had a bright, golden hue. House Ruath’Is.
“That’s not our father,” Ero said. “Did you hack the wrong room?”
“This can’t be right,” Skorn said.
“You think he was moved?”
Skorn brought up the time stamp and flipped it back to the previous day, and then the previous. There they found Dragorn standing in front of Malikin and two dakorian soldiers. Malikin was dressed in the red judicial robes of an Imperial Voice, but his features were fixed in rage. Ero glanced to the time stamp.
“This is just after Quel was killed.”
“I’m going to the start of the encounter,” Skorn said.
He twisted his hand, and the holo went backwards until Malikin had just entered the room. Dragorn remained seated, regarding the green-eyed krey with measured distaste. As an Imperial Voice, Malikin had every right to enter the room, but it was obvious from Malikin’s expression this was not a normal visit.
“Dragorn Bright’Lor,” Malikin growled, “do you have any idea what your House has cost me?”
“I hope it was a lot,” Dragorn said.
“One of your soldiers killed my Bloodwall.” Malikin’s voice went up an octave.
Dragorn picked up a glass of bright, glowing drey and took a sip. “I guess Quel was not as strong as you thought.”
“You’ve gone too far,” Malikin growled. “Reklin is listed as a dakorian contracted to your House, yet he infiltrated a military barracks on Valana and got into his former quarters.”
“How peculiar,” Dragorn said, swirling his drink. “If he was rejected from the military, how did his access codes still work? And for that matter, why would he be with Visika, the infamous head of the Burning Ghosts?”
Malikin’s features darkened, but Skorn paused the vid. “The information about Visika was classified,” he said. “There’s no way Dragorn saw it on a public vid.”
“Then how did he know Visika was with Reklin?” Ero asked. “You think she’s his ally?”
“It doesn’t prove anything,” Skorn said. “Any decent spy would know what happened on Vornblade.”
“But only the higher Houses have access to the military district,” Ero said. “They wouldn’t even need a spy.”
Skorn shook his head and unpaused the vid. Malikin exploded with accusation and threats, but Dragorn merely sat on the couch, sipping his drey with a smug expression.
“You should never have requested your tribunal to be so soon,” Malikin said.
“Or you’ll be forced to eat your pride when I walk free,” Dragorn said, He drained his glass and set it on the table. “I hear shame is not a very appetizing flavor.”
“You think you’ll go free?” Malikin snapped. “Your House may have augments, but they are out of glint. Your allies won’t give you any more, and you’re going to be executed.”
“You’re right,” Dragorn said, and then smiled. “If I hadn’t gotten a new ally.”
“Who?” Malikin snarled.
“I won’t spoil the surprise for you,” Dragorn said with a devilish glint in his voice. “You’ll find out at my tribunal.”
Malikin’s gaze would have melted seracrete. “If you actually do escape execution, at least I’ll get to kill you myself.”
“Is that a threat?” Dragorn asked mildly. “Because it is a serious crime for a sitting Voice to level threats at the accused.
Malikin’s lips curled back into a sneer. “I’m afraid I must apologize for the inconvenience, Dragorn Bright’Lor, but under suspicion of ordering a high crime against the Empire, your luxuries in Condemnation have been revoked. As of this moment, you are to be sent to the Cubes.”
Ero flinched. He’d been in the Cubes once, when he’d been caught by Rangers on some petty crime in his youth. The tiny, windowless rock boxes were so deep beneath Condemnation tower that they were warmed by Mylttium’s core. They were reserved for the accused krey that could not afford to purchase better accommodations. One night had been stifling. A few weeks would be torture.
The two dakorians flanked Dragorn and barked at him to stand. He did, but began to laugh as they put seracrete bonds on his wrists and led him to the door. Malikin, dressed in judicial robes and bearing the entire authority in the room, screamed at Dragorn until spittle flew from his lips. All the while, Dragorn continued to laugh as he was dragged away.
“I’ll see you at my tribunal, Malikin! I hope you enjoy the show!”
Skorn paused the vid, and for a moment he and Ero stood in silence. Ero examined Malikin. The judge’s hair was in disarray, his features red with fury. Whatever Reklin’s reason in going to his former barracks, he’d unnerved and enraged the pious krey to the point of insanity. Ero would have to thank him, if he ever got the chance.
“Do you remember when Dragorn made the deal with House Jek’Orus for the vid rights on Kelindor?” Skorn asked.
“I think so.” Ero turned to his brother. “Why?”
“He looked like that,” Skorn said, pointing to their laughing father. “House Jek’Orus went into the negotiation with all the power, and all the leverage. They walked out with a contract that meant they would provide vid service to everyone on Kelindor for practically free.”
“I remember the deal,” Ero said, nodding. “You told me Dragorn outmaneuvered them.”
“He did.” Skorn faced him, his expression dark. “He’d paid a group of renegades called the Black Comet to infiltrate Thrandiun and hack their dormant World Engine. They’d rigged it to explode.”
“That would have destroyed the planet,” Ero protested.
“Exactly. Our father was willing to destroy an entire planet just to get a cheap deal on vid channels. And he looked just as giddy when he won the contract.”
Ero shuddered and, not for the first time, wondered if his father was the most evil krey he’d ever met. “If he’s that confident, it means he knows he’s going to be declared innocent.”
Skorn scowled. “We need to find out if Visika is his new ally.”
“Before Dragorn comes back and seizes control of Lumineia,” Ero finished.
Chapter Twenty-Four
<
br /> Reklin spent a week onboard the Ghosts’ ship, recovering from the wounds Quel had inflicted. Ostensibly he spent the time recovering, but as he and Mora languished in their cell, he used his augment to sift through memories of the ship. He already had the makings of an escape plan, but there were a few key elements he needed. As he considered how to get them, Visika collected him for another task.
“Where are we going?” Reklin asked.
“We have a delivery to make,” Visika said.
“And you’re taking me?”
Visika chuckled at his tone. “You sound just like Gellow. He thought it unwise I take one who is disloyal.”
“It does seem unusual.”
Reklin surreptitiously brushed against a passing krey officer, using the contact to breach his memories. He’d done it several times since boarding the ship, but this time he managed to find a full schematic to the ship, specifically the layout of power conduits around the cell he and Mora occupied. The krey walked away looking slightly confused.
“This meeting is a particularly sensitive one,” Visika said, passing the Gate Chamber and entering the hangar bay. “I would rather go alone, but it’s unwise to not have a guard in such a location.”
“And I’m expendable.”
She smiled over her shoulder. “I’m glad you see things clearly.”
Reklin knew Visika to be brutal, exacting, and ruthless, but she also protected her people. If she needed to eliminate a potential witness, she wouldn’t want to kill one of her Ghosts. Reklin, on the other hand, she had no qualms about sacrificing in order to keep a secret.
The hangar bay contained a trio of ships. Two Ro-class fighters, and a third ship that was narrow and sleek, its black hull absorbing the light from the hangar bay. The windows were so dark they revealed nothing of the interior. Nothing extended from the ship, including scanning equipment or weapons.
“A stealth vessel?” Reklin asked.
“This is the Midnight Star,” she said. “My personal ship.”
She waved her arm in front of what appeared to be a smooth section of the hull. The holoview in her arm beeped, and the hull panel glided inward before folding to the side. Reklin ducked as he followed her inside.
While the outside appeared opaque, the interior paneling was covered in sweeping windows that allowed for a darkened view of the hangar bay. There was only a single compartment, with a pilot’s chair and flight panel at the front, a small galley, and a rear sleeping area. Storage compartments lined the lower bulkheads, giving space to the windows. Weapon racks hung from the ceiling and included hammer lances, long lances, plasma launchers, det launchers, flaks, sunderblades, and beam guns. As Visika shut the hatch and claimed the captain’s chair, Reklin motioned to the impressive armory.
“Do you always carry so many weapons?”
“Always.” She powered up the ship, and it lifted off the deck with the familiar pulse of a gravity drive. She tapped the comm holo. “Wareth, open the cargo bay doors.”
“Opening now,” a Ghost replied.
The exterior door rose, and Visika flew them through the shields. The moment they were in open space, she activated the projection Gate and they jumped to hyperlight. Visika rotated in her chair to regard Reklin as the ship hit cruising speed.
“When did you learn to pilot?” he asked.
“When I got tired of the Empire telling me what I could learn.”
Reklin had never met a dakorian like Visika. She was dangerous and powerful, but also intelligent and patient. She eschewed traditional dakorian values of family and honor in favor of criminal pursuits, yet she seemed driven by more than just greed.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” he asked.
“What can you tell me about the matriarch of House Bright’Lor?”
“Hellina.” He shrugged. “I know she’s a member of the Imperial bloodline, and she cut ties with Dragorn when his House fell. What does she have to do with anything?”
“Everything,” Visika said, her eyes never leaving him. “She’s the one that paid us to steal from the military network.”
“Hellina?” Reklin was dubious. “She’s a royal. What could she want that her access would not already grant?”
“Krey bloodlines.” Visika lifted a cortex crystal into view. “This contains a copy of all House Bright’Lor’s ancestors going back to the birth of the Empire.”
“A strange request,” Reklin said.
“Yet apparently a valuable one. She paid fifty billion glint for this.”
The amount did not explain why Visika had personally gone to Vornblade. Reklin guessed the Burning Ghosts’ annual revenue was in the trillions, so why risk so much to infiltrate the military herself?
“What else did you take from the military network?” he ventured.
Visika regarded him with an expression of irritation. “There are shackles on that wall. Have a seat and lock yourself in.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Caution never trusts intelligence.”
Visika waited as Reklin took a seat and wrapped the seracrete shackles around his wrists. As the Midnight Star glided through space, he sifted through his memories of the fight, and what he’d seen on the cortex uplink. There had been krey bloodlines, but also dakorian bloodlines. The former was obviously the job for Hellina, but what did Visika want with dakorian bloodlines?
He retrieved every conversation he’d had with the formidable woman, searching through her words and expressions. Ultimately he came to the moment he’d arrived on her hidden world. She’d briefly described her upbringing, how her family had been scattered and she’d been raised by another family in the clan. Scatterings were never recorded by a clan, making it impossible to locate family members. But the military kept strict genetic records of all dakorians, a precaution in case soldiers committed crimes. Theoretically, such information could be used to locate the vestiges of a scattered family.
“Who in your family do you want to find?” Reklin asked.
Visika was out of her chair and across the room before he could flinch. A short seracrete dagger came to a stop on his throat, and he found himself inches from the Bloodblade’s dark eyes. She spoke in a voice so cold it made Reklin shiver.
“Speak again, and I’ll remove your tongue and make you swallow it.”
Reklin held her gaze and gave a solemn nod. Visika’s lips curled back into a sneer, and she slashed his shoulder, flaying him to the bone. Then she spun and left. Through the sting of the warning cut, he knew he’d seen more of Visika than she allowed others to witness. But the reaction indicated he’d hit the truth. Visika, the Ghost Queen of the most feared organization in the Empire, wanted to find her family. It was a startling revelation.
They flew in silence for several hours before stopping near Sorttium to catch a Ship Gate, which took them to a star system called Abyss. It consisted of little more than an asteroid belt and three planets circling a black hole.
“You ever been to Revguard?” Visika called over her shoulder as she banked to the furthest planet from the black hole.
“Once is too much,” Reklin said in distaste.
Even from space, the fires on the planet’s surface were visible. The heat from the planet’s core burst through dozens of volcanoes that spilled molten rock across the surface. But it was not the atmosphere that made the planet toxic, it was the inhabitants.
“Hellina wants to meet here?” he asked.
“One of the few places where one can meet in private.” Visika tapped her holoview, and his shackles released. “Get a breathing mask from the side compartment. The energy sunderblade you picked up on Valana is in the armory.”
Reklin found the correct compartment and donned a mask. The snug-fitting mechanism filtered the air as it passed into his nose and mouth, and an extension rose to cover his eyes in a transparent barrier. Shield domes could not withstand the gravity fluctuations on Revguard. Without the mask, hot ash and chemical-laden air would lead
to suffocation and death. He pulled his energy sunderblade from the hanging rack and placed it on his back, allowing the magnetic coupler on his spinal cord to hold the weapon fast.
Visika dropped their vessel into the tumultuous atmosphere. The heat was filled with sparks and cinders, the clouds a roiling mass of ash clouds from frequent eruptions. The Midnight Star trembled as the grav emitters struggled to compensate. Then they broke through, and she dropped them towards a city sprawling across and through a pair of mountains. Between the mountains, a rod of seracrete half a mile thick plunged into the ground.
Reklin knew from his previous missions to the planet that it extended all the way to the planet’s core, where it clamped onto the solid metal ball and kept the city safe from earthquakes. The anchor was the only thing preventing the mountain from crumbling into a nearby lake of lava. Since the system circled a black hole, the molten waterfalls and rivers provided a grim source of illumination.
The stealth ship passed through heated clouds and sulfuric plumes until it reached a gaping hangar bay in the side of the first mountain. They passed through a shield and then settled onto the extending landing gear. The moment they were down, Visika picked up a mask and fastened it to her face before collecting a trio of weapons: a hammer lance on her back, a snub-nosed flak launcher on her hip, and a long seracrete dagger on the opposite thigh. She spun the cloak about her shoulders and lifted the hood. Then she activated a door shield and opened the barrier. The shield kept the hazy air in the hangar bay from seeping inside the ship as she stepped through. Reklin followed, and was immediately assaulted by the heat.
Even with a triple shield at the opening, the planet’s air drifted through the air scrubbers and filled the bay. Workers—human, krey, and dakorian—labored to unload a small cargo ship. All wore masks, their faces and clothing coated in grime. Visika shut the ship as a scarred dakorian approached.
“Borfall,” she greeted, “has she arrived?”
“Her ship has been spotted entering the system.”