by Ben Hale
“Any scratch on my hull I will duplicate on your bones,” Visika said, motioning to the Midnight Star.
The dakorian nodded. “The Ghosts own this bay and the surrounding streets. The Star won’t be touched.”
Visika headed to the tunnels of the city, and soon Reklin was plunged into the winding corridors and hazy underbelly of the city. Twin Kills was the largest city on Revguard, its halls a labyrinth of intersecting tunnels, homes, glow parlors, and gambling halls. The floor trembled every few minutes, the vestiges of local earthquakes. Occasionally the tunnels passed into open-air balconies and courtyards that overlooked rivers of lava. The heat was oppressive and constant, and even with the mask, Reklin coughed.
Dakorians sauntered through the streets, laughing and talking. The krey always had guards, and wariness was on constant display in a motley collection of weaponry. Humans huddled in packs, some carrying goods from the unloaded cargo ships, others rushing to deliver the carcasses of red-throated lizards, the only export of the planet. A single lizard could weigh as much as a thousand kilos, and their meat was highly prized for its spicy flavor, which came from a diet of sulfuric plants, rodents, and roaks.
Twin Kills had no government, and the city was carved into territories owned by criminal organizations. The Burning Ghosts operated a portion of the first mountain, a space it held by blood. Renegades, raiders, and more owned other sections of the city, and staked their claims by displaying skeletons. Reklin had fought on countless planets, but he hated Revguard.
“What about Revguard do you dislike?” Visika asked, her voice slightly muffled by the mask.
“What makes you think I dislike it?” He watched a group of slaves dump a dead dakorian over a balcony. The body tumbled down the slope and fell into lava.
“You are a dakorian of honor that believes in family.” She swept her hands toward the glow-tattooed dakorians laughing uproariously and drinking sulfuric ale. “These are soldiers that have forsaken the old ways in favor of new.”
“New does not mean better,” he said.
“Spoken like a true elder.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged, but her nonchalance did not extend to her posture. She walked like one ready for combat. “I would wager you blame me for the epidemic of glow, or perhaps you blame the Empire for the corruption of dakorian lives. The truth is, your own clan has brought our people to its current state.”
“Dakorian clans teach their sons and daughters integrity and respect.” He eyed a dakorian stumbling down an alley on drunken feet. “Not this.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But you do not prepare them for service to the Empire, where they will face the depths of depravity and corruption. The family is to blame for those they lose.”
Reklin noticed the tinge of regret to the woman’s voice, and couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with the dakorian genetic history. Did she blame herself for whoever she’d lost? But she’d lived for thousands of years, so anyone she would have known in her scattering would be long dead unless they themselves had become a Bloodwall. If they had, they would have been easy to find.
Visika led them to the edge of the Burning Ghosts territory and turned up a street that marked the dividing line, keeping a conspicuous distance from the opposite side of the wide tunnel. Even as a Bloodblade, she obviously knew to be cautious in a place like this. The other organizations would kill the Ghost Queen at the slightest opportunity.
Visika came to a building that sat in the exact center of the street. Anyone passing the structure gave it a wide berth, lowering their eyes as they circled and passed on. It was in public, and yet the walls were thick and fortified with stone and seracrete plating. It was a place of meeting between criminal leaders.
The door opened and Visika entered. The interior was empty except for a holotable, a trio of dented and rusted chairs, and a door on the opposite side. Visika shut the door behind them and faced the empty room.
“Whatever happens,” Visika said quietly, “you will obey my exact orders. My crew has strict orders to kill Mora should I fail to return.”
“I’m not going to betray you here,” he said.
His use of “here” in the assurance did not go unnoticed, and she smiled faintly. She knew he would escape, given the chance. The two stood in silence made more profound by the setup of the room. Dark stains on the walls and floor made clear that not every negotiation went smoothly.
The opposite door swung open and a cloaked krey woman entered, followed by two dakorian soldiers. Both scowled when they saw Reklin with Visika. As the door shut, closing off the raucous sounds of the street, the krey woman raised her head to reveal her eyes. Instead of black, the woman’s eyes were bright, clear, blue. A member of House Bright’Lor.
Both Visika and Reklin drew their weapons. “Who are you?” Visika demanded.
The two soldiers drew their own hammers, but the krey woman put her hand up to stop them. “I am Enara,” the krey woman said. “I am Ero and Skorn’s older sister.”
“I didn’t know they had a sister,” Reklin said.
Enara smiled softly, the expression shadowed by her cowl. “Hellina will arrive in a few minutes, so it’s important we talk quickly.”
“Why should I listen to you?” Visika asked.
“Because if you don’t, what you are about to give Hellina will start a war.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You have five minutes,” Visika said. “Then you leave, or I kill you and your soldiers.”
Enara wasted no time in tapping her holoview and sending an image to the desk at the center of the room. A holo blossomed above the surface, showing three complex pieces each designed to fit together. Tiny lines of code were visible along the inside of each element.
“The genetic history of all registered dakorians, humans, and krey are considered too dangerous to hold in one place,” Enara said. “As I’m sure you know, the record is divided into three parts. The first”—she pointed to the blue section, which resembled a clawed hand—“is held by the Empire. The second is held by the military, and the third is kept in a secret facility owned by House Jek’Orus. They are useless on their own, but matched with the other two, one could identify the exact genealogy of every individual in the Empire.”
“Four minutes,” Visika said.
Enara did not seem disturbed that she had four minutes to live. “What you don’t know is that my mother seeks to prove what has long been suspected, that House Bright’Lor once sat on the Empire’s throne.”
“Blue-eyed Emperors?” Reklin shook his head. “There’s no way the Empire could hide such a truth. Too many vids, too many old krey, too many archives.”
“What’s the oldest vid you’ve ever seen?” Enara challenged.
“Three minutes,” Visika said.
“The coronation of the Dralik Thendigor’s father,” Reklin said. “Two hundred thousand years ago.”
“The Empire is a million years old,” Enara said, “and the average generation for a krey is thirty thousand years. That’s over thirty generations since the birth of the Empire—yet not a single vid has survived for that long. If witnesses are killed and vids destroyed, memory cannot last.”
“Two minutes,” Visika said. “What do you want?”
“To buy your piece of the genetic history,” Enara said. “The one you stole from the military archive on Vornblade.”
Visika snorted in amusement. “I’m about to make fifty billion glint. I doubt an outcast krey from a fallen House can match that.”
“I can’t,” Enara admitted, “but I do have something of value.”
“What are you offering?” Reklin asked.
The krey woman did not look away from Visika. “Your daughter.”
Visika’s amusement hardened. “Twenty seconds.” She aimed the flak launcher at the krey, and the two dakorians raised their weapons as well.
The blue-eyed krey didn’t flinch. “Before you became a B
loodwall, you secretly had your eggs removed and frozen.”
“That’s forbidden,” Reklin said.
“Another Imperial rule,” Visika snapped.
“Fourteen years ago, someone stole your eggs,” Enara said. “You found the thief and know he sold them, but you don’t know who bought them. All you know is you have a daughter out there. I know her identity.”
“How can you possibly know that?” Visika snarled.
“You aren’t the only one with spies.”
As the tension mounted, Reklin understood two things. One, the identity of her daughter was the very thing Visika sought. She’d gone to Vornblade personally because she wanted to ensure the theft of the dakorian genome. And two, it was a secret Visika would kill to protect.
Reklin tightened his grip on the hilt of his energy blade, and it seemed like the heat of Revguard had seeped into the room. The two soldiers shifted uncertainly, their weapons trained on Reklin and Visika. But their unease was not that of hired thugs; it was that of the loyal. They shifted closer to the blue-eyed woman, obviously wanting to protect her.
Visika reached into a pouch and held the white crystal aloft. “If I agree to your trade, what will you do with the military’s portion of the genetic code?”
“Keep my brothers from destroying themselves,” Enara said cryptically, and then withdrew her own cortex. “Do we have a deal?”
Visika tossed the crystal onto the table and Enara traded it for hers. She inclined her head and motioned the two soldiers out the door. “You have my gratitude, good queen.”
“If her identity is not on this”—Visika picked up the second crystal—“I will hunt you down and boil you in acid.”
Enara smiled faintly. “Goodbye, Visika. I hope we never meet again.”
One of the soldiers abruptly frowned and tapped his holoview. He read a blinking message and then opened the door. “Hellina is here. We must go.”
Enara left with her soldiers, the trio slipping away and the door clanging shut. Visika whirled on Reklin and caught him by the throat. In a single step she drove him against the wall, pressing until he struggled to breathe.
“Whisper a single word about my daughter to anyone and I won’t just kill Mora, I’ll kill each and every member of your family, from elders to whelps.” Her grip tightened. “Or maybe I should just kill you now.”
“I fight for my family,” Reklin rasped. “I would never put a child in danger.”
Visika held him until darkness rimmed his vision, then abruptly released. “You’re right,” she said. “I may not be able to trust you, but I can trust your caliber. And you are fortunate I need your eyes. While I meet with Hellina, I want you to follow Enara. Find out where she’s from. I don’t like having a new player I don’t understand.”
He rubbed his throat. “What about Hellina? What are you going to do?”
Visika withdrew a second crystal. “I’m going to get paid.”
“You have a copy?” Reklin demanded. “What if Enara is right? And handing that over to her will lead to war?”
“The Empire is always on the brink of war,” Visika said. “This won’t change anything. Now go before you lose her.”
She all but shoved Reklin out the door. He merged back into the crowd just as another cowled krey appeared on the opposite side of the street. This one had four dakorians flanking her, and all were obviously of the most expensive caliber. Those in her path hastily parted as she made her way to the meeting hall. Reklin waited for her to enter the meeting hall and then hurried after Enara.
Ero’s sister crossed into the Red Raiders territory. After a moment’s hesitation, Reklin stepped out of the region controlled by the Burning Ghosts and crossed the street. At a discreet distance, he followed the krey as she wound her way through the thin crowd. He was too far to hear, so he tapped his holoview and activated a surveillance code. Developed by House Mor’Val specifically for the military, the code picked up sound waves too faint to register and sent them directly to the communications crystal embedded in his inner ear.
“…went better than expected,” one of the dakorians was saying.
“She could have killed us,” the second said, his voice gruff and tense. “We would have been no match for her.”
“What matters is that the exchange is over and we got what we came for,” Enara said.
“She only has one piece of the genetic archive,” the first said with a nod. “It’s useless without the other two parts.”
The taller dakorian glanced over his shoulder, and Reklin paused to examine a bank of dakorian weapons by a vendor. He kept his head low. Hornless were common on Revguard, but Reklin stood out because he was so big. He kept himself within visual distance so his surveillance code would still operate.
“What if Visika lied?” the shorter dakorian growled. “If Hellina gets her hands on all three pieces of the genetic code, she’ll be able to trace genetic markers and birth records for the last three ages. The Empire will be able to find us.”
“We are the least of her targets,” Enara said. “She wants the throne. And her best route is through Ero and Skorn.”
“Then why meet with Ero?” the second dakorian asked. “He’s reckless and dangerous, and not ready to join us. You yourself said he wouldn’t stop creating augments.”
Enara chuckled, the sound oddly fond. “Ero is not the type to listen to any warning. Or obey rules, incidentally. Still, he doesn’t know the danger he is in.”
“We should expose them to the Empire,” the dakorian growled. “Before the augments destroy everything.”
“Trust me, Beck,” she said. “Now go pay for our berth. I don’t want to be on this planet any longer than necessary. Rondor and I will send an update to Whitehaven and meet you there.”
Beck grunted as he separated from Enara and the taller soldier, who spoke when he was gone. “Beck is right. We should move against House Bright’Lor before any more augments are created.”
Enara lowered her tone. “The augments are dangerous, but sometimes I wonder if they might be exactly what this Empire needs.”
“How can you say that?” Rondor growled his distaste. “When the augments are sold into the Empire, mankind will tear themselves apart. Humans cannot live in peace.”
“They do on Brightwall,” she challenged. “Why not on Lumineia?”
“This is different,” Rondor said. “You know they would fall to their baser instincts.”
“Maybe I hope mankind is better than us,” she said.
The crowd abruptly thinned, the people casting furtive looks at a hulking dakorian that appeared at the end of the hall. The splash of red on his forehead, and the streaks down his arm, marked him as a Red Raider. He and three dakorians sauntered up to Enara, barring her passage.
“You are one I do not recognize,” he said. “And those I do not recognize pay the toll.”
He laughed at his own joke, as did his cohorts.
Enara kept her head low. “We are just passing through.”
“Then ten thousand glint should be enough,” he said.
Reklin drifted closer, risking exposure as he quietly drew his blade.
The head of the group reached for Enara’s hood, but Rondor stepped in front and lifted his hammer. “Don’t touch her,” he warned.
The Red Raider issued a menacing laugh. “We have a loyal one, my friends. That means she’s worth more.”
“She’s not going to—”
The Red Raider’s seracrete dagger pierced Rondor’s chest, driving up and into both hearts. He tumbled backward, his eyes open in shock before he fell onto his back.
Enara shouted his name and jumped to him, but the wound was fatal.
“Go,” Rondor hissed. “Don’t let them take you.”
Enara actually cried, her tears dripping into the bloody wound. “I’m sorry, my friend. I never wanted you to die like this.”
Reklin was stunned by the display. He’d never seen a dakorian behave with such loyalty, o
r a krey shed a tear at the death of their soldiers. But Enara mourned for Rondor like he was her friend.
The Red Raider reached for her cloak with a laugh. “Now that he’s out of the way, let’s see what you’re worth.”
Reklin closed the gap in three strides, his hand locking around the Red Raider’s wrist. With a twist, he snapped the bone. The dakorian howled in pain, but the sound was cut short when Reklin kicked him in the chest. The tattooed dakorian stumbled backward and collided with two of his friends, taking them all down. Before the remaining two could recover, Reklin slashed twice, cutting deep. Then he grabbed Enara and dragged her away from the carnage.
“Get him!” The Raider cradled his broken wrist. “I want his head on a plate!”
“What are you doing?” Enara demanded as she rushed to keep up.
“Saving your life,” Reklin said.
Red Raiders howled in all directions, a deep-throated bellow that summoned hundreds of booted feet. Two Raiders appeared ahead, and Reklin ducked into a small courtyard that led to an adjoining street. He used his augment to recall the maps he’d studied on past missions. He mentally overlaid the map onto his current location and swerved north.
“Why?” she asked.
“You want to protect Ero?”
“You know him?” Enara asked, obviously surprised.
“He’s my friend.” It was the first time he’d called the blue-eyed krey a friend, but realized it was true.
“My brother made friends with a soldier?” She sounded incredulous as she hurried to keep up.
“From what I saw back there, he’s a lot like you,” he said. “Now, where’s your ship?”
“Hangar bay thirty-seven. But I don’t know how to get there—”
“I do,” he said as he yanked her up a set of stairs.
“I don’t understand,” she said, panting to keep up. “I thought you were a Ghost.”
A Red Raider appeared at the top of the stairs. “They’re here—”
Reklin’s blade took him in the throat and he went down. They were in a larger cavern, with actual buildings and houses. Two Raiders came from an alley and took aim with their lances. Reklin hit one lance on the side of the hammer, causing the weapon to discharge into the second Raider. Then he drove the uninjured Raider into a wall and tossed him over a ledge. The Raider fell down the stairwell with a shout and landed in a heap.