Rise of Renegades, page 14
Laurik stormed out of her quarters, her hair in disarray, her clothing rumpled. It was the end of a long day and the slaves had elected to eat outside their quarters, using its bulk to shade them from the setting sun. The woman stomped up to them and leveled an accusing finger at the group.
“There was a snake in my quarters. I demand to know who put it there.”
“Perhaps you left the door ajar?” Begle asked, a shade too innocently. “There are a number of species on the island.”
Laurik burned him on the spot, but it seemed to Siena that there was a smile in his grimace. She hid her own smile. Kensen was also looking at his feet, his lips twitching as if he wanted to laugh. Laurik ground her teeth together and stabbed a slender gray finger at Siena.
“You.”
“I didn’t,” Siena blurted. “I swear it.”
“Come with me.”
She glanced to the others and then reluctantly followed Laurik back onto the trail. As the sun set, Laurik stomped her way down the slope towards the worksite. Every step was a punctuation to her mutterings.
“The girl has infected all the others. They don’t think I notice, but I see their little games and I know they are laughing at me behind my back. They follow her lead, so she’s the poison I need to cure. And I will see her submit or I will kill her myself.”
Siena just managed to keep the smile from her face. Laurik would have been livid if she knew Siena had enhanced her hearing so she could listen to every word. And Laurik’s simmering rage would be a cherished memory.
Laurik passed the work camp and followed the trail all the way to the beach. An escarpment abutted the white sand, the short cliff pockmarked on the edge where large chunks had fallen free and rolled into the sand until they sank. The misshapen lumps marred the beauty of the pristine, white-sand coastline.
Laurik dropped onto the sand and approached a boulder. “This is your new task,” she growled triumphantly and pointed to the stone. “You are to move these off the beach and into the water.”
Siena inwardly groaned. Moving boulders after a day of hard labor would be exhausting, but she could not refuse. “I’ll go get the PEGG,” she said.
“No,” Laurik said. “You have your augments, so use them. Move it on your own.”
“With just my hands?” Siena’s eyebrows shot up. “They probably weigh ten times my body.”
Laurik leaned in, her purple eyes narrowing. “Do you really think I wouldn’t punish you? Your very presence is an infection to the others. They rebel because they crave your approval. But they will not have it. Each day while you labor down here, I will be teaching them humility. Enjoy your new task, slave.”
In a whirl of cloth, Laurik departed, her head high and a broad smile on her features. Groaning, Siena turned and faced the half-submerged boulder. It was obvious Laurik thought the task impossible, and that was the reason she’d assigned it. For the first moment since her body had been shattered, Siena clenched her fists. Lyn was right. And Siena refused to let Laurik win. Gritting her teeth, she crouched next to the boulder and activated her augments.
Chapter Fifteen
Reklin reclined in the seat at the restaurant and scanned the crowd. Worg was seated next to him, and they both ostensibly sipped drey while watching the krey arriving at the moon station through a trio of Gates. It had been three days, and Reklin was growing tired of the same location. He briefly took his attention from the crowd to check the neighboring restaurant for a suitable location to observe.
“This is getting boring,” Worg said.
“Erlanex is supposed to be arriving soon,” he said.
“That’s what you said yesterday,” Worg said. “And the day before.”
“It’s still true.”
Reklin feigned irritation, but he was actually grateful for the time to think. Since his decision to leave the military, he’d wrestled with how to tell his team. Technically, Alina should relieve him of his command and assume leadership over the team, as well as deliver him to the Bone Council for judgment. Even if they did understand, they were in his same position. And if they reported Reklin, they were just as likely to be killed by Malikin.
A human slave delivered another round of drinks, and this time he was accompanied by the krey owner, dressed in a fine tunic and pants. The latter regarded Reklin with disdain, his eyes flicking to his missing horns.
“When you finish these glasses, I ask that you move on.”
“Why?” Worg barely spared him a look.
“Hornless are not welcome here,” the krey said.
Worg made to protest, but Reklin just shook his head. It didn’t matter. His horns had not been cut due to punishment, but there was no way they could know that. He set his glass down and nodded.
“We will depart momentarily,” he said.
“Thank you,” the krey said, obviously relieved that Reklin had not resisted. He and the slave left, and Reklin again searched for a more suitable location to track their target.
“Want me to lop off his head?” Worg asked, jerking his thumb at the krey.
“That would make our task difficult,” Reklin said wryly.
Reklin noticed the eyes of the other patrons at the restaurant. Most were eating meat taken from their kills, a privilege given to those who survived a hunt. The meat possessed a unique protein that many regarded as the most succulent in the Empire, but it did not last more than a couple of hours before it spoiled. The hunts on the planet’s surface below the moon represented both the ultimate thrill for krey, and a chance to enjoy one of the rarest and most delicious flavors.
“I still can’t believe Skorn managed to get three nobles to invest into House Bright’Lor,” Worg said. “And eight trillion glint each?” He shook his head, an expression of admiration and disgust.
“He’s more devious than the standard krey,” Reklin said.
The moon base was a single, long street with buildings all to one side. The opposite side of the street was just one long window, allowing an unbroken view of the planet, a green-and-blue world covered almost entirely in dense jungles. The station on the moon was affectingly called the Hunting Lodge, and served as a departure point for hunters traveling to the dangerous planet.
To Reklin’s left, a trio of World Gates provided access to the moon. The arriving krey were, for the most part, nobles from the upper houses, and accompanied by entire entourages of guards, slaves, and friends. The hunts were so popular that krey reserved a slot years in advance, so new arrivals were generally exuberant and nervous. Since one in ten krey did not survive, the nervousness was understandable.
“Do you ever think the krey are just plain stupid?” Worg asked.
“What do you mean?” Reklin asked.
Worg shrugged. “Look at that krey over there, the one from House Jek’Orus. He’s probably fifty thousand years old, and he’s risking his life for a thrill. Why?”
Reklin watched the orange-eyed krey. It was difficult to tell his age from his body, but his clothes were of a much older style, and the way the rest of his party looked suggested he was of higher rank. It was reasonable to assume he was old.
“I don’t think it’s their age that makes them stupid,” Reklin said, and returned to scanning the crowd. “I think they just don’t have a purpose. When they live that long, nothing has meaning anymore.”
“Like Ero and Skorn?”
“Maybe,” Reklin said, distracted by a possible candidate. But when he got a clear look, he saw it was not Erlanex.
“Alina? Teridon?” Worg spoke through the jawbone cortex. “Anything?”
“That’s fifty,” Alina said.
“What’s fifty?” Worg asked.
“I bet Teridon you would ask if we spotted him at least fifty times before he showed up. You just earned me a thousand glint.”
“You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you, Worg?” Teridon grumbled.
Reklin hid a smile. His other two soldiers were positioned at the opposite end of the hunting outpost, where they could watch the other trio of World Gates. They were probably just as bored as Reklin, but they were Shard soldiers, and knew how to wait.
He had hunted other targets with his team, and they were as close to him as his own family. He glanced at Worg, wondering how the youth would respond to his captain being a traitor. He was the youngest of Reklin’s team. Would he believe Reklin’s claim that the Empire had betrayed them? Or would he choose loyalty to the throne over loyalty to his team?
Of all his team, he probably trusted Alina the most. She’d been with him the longest, and she’d shown a tactical understanding of numerous situations. Would she follow Reklin against the Empire? She’d occasionally expressed distrust in the judicial system, and outright distaste for Malikin. She would probably agree.
Teridon was an enigma. He was taciturn and rarely revealed his true thoughts. His trust had been difficult to gain in their first few years together, but the dakorian had shown a willingness to follow Reklin into any conflict.
“What do we know about this Erlanex?” Alina asked.
“He was exiled from his House and has few allies,” Reklin said. “That’s what matters. He’s not a fighter, but he will be desperate. Apparently someone put a bounty on him, so he will not come willingly.”
“You’d think with almost thirty trillion glint Bright’Lor wouldn’t still be looking for the dregs of the Empire,” Alina said.
Reklin grinned. “Skorn won’t get any more glint, so he’s going to make it last. Besides, working with an exiled krey ensures loyalty.”
Worg grunted his disgust. “Is Laurik really ordering sheets of Lorenwhite from House Fren’Iven?”
Reklin recalled meeting the woman upon her return from Binary Hall. Siena had returned barely alive, but that hadn’t stopped Laurik from forcing her to work. Laurik had also begun immediate preparations for spending her House glint, notably on supplies to build the city on the island.
“I believe she did,” Reklin said.
“What a waste,” Worg said. “They cost ten times more than standard seracrete.”
“True.” Reklin continued to eye the arriving krey. “But it’s a far-reaching plan. Skorn wants Lumineia to be the center of the augments, so it has to look the part. You can’t sell wealth from a hovel.”
“Still a waste,” Worg said.
Reklin did not disagree with him. With the massive influx of glint, Skorn and Laurik were planning on building a permanent augmentation facility, and preparing a city for the hundreds of krey that would be needed to run the experiments and monitor the augments on the world. They also intended on building a Stormdial and outposts across the planet’s surface, all to prepare for the expected arrival of a large stock of slaves. Of course, it wouldn’t matter if Lumineia was discovered by Malikin.
“How is it possible Skorn has managed to keep an entire world hidden from Malikin?” Worg asked, as if he knew Reklin’s thoughts.
“Skorn coded the World Gate so it cannot be traced,” Reklin said. “For now, we have to work for Bright’Lor.”
“This mission is taking too long,” Worg said. “I just want to give Malikin evidence on Bright’Lor so we can go back to hunting other criminals.”
Reklin winced at the surge of guilt. “Do you ever think the Empire does not deserve our loyalty?”
The chair creaked when Worg swiveled to look at Reklin. “Did you hit your head in sparring this morning?”
“Sounds like it,” Alina said.
Reklin shrugged. “We all know this mission is off, and the longer it goes on, the more I think the Empire can’t be trusted.”
“What else would we do?” Teridon asked.
“Teridon is right.” Worg drained his glass. “Might as well get paid to fight.”
“Maybe I’m just tired of someone else controlling my blade,” Reklin said.
“If I was free”—Worg motioned to the planet—“I would hunt here.”
“I don’t want to die needlessly,” Teridon said.
Worg grinned. “You have to admit, it would be fun.”
The swampy planet below the moon was Midgore, a K-class planet known for its apex predators. Like all K-class planets, it was not deemed hospitable for habitation by krey without shield domes. Usually they were terraformed, but in the case of Midgore, the planet had been left intact, a haven for those who wanted to hunt. Owned by House Bor’Grave, the planet was very profitable.
The Midgore System was in the fourth ring of the galaxy, delta quadrant, halfway between the center and the Outer Rim. With a red giant at the center of the system, everything on the station had a faint reddish hue.
Midgore-2 was the second of three moons, and the largest. Arriving krey and dakorians prepared themselves in the respites until their party was sent down to the planet’s surface through a Gate at the center of the moon station. Those waiting could view the current hunts from the restaurants, and the giant vid screens rotated between heavily armed krey and dakorians weaving through dense foliage.
The guides, provided by Bor’Grave, all had two-toned eyes, an orange rim around the outside of the iris with a red rim on the inside. Renowned for their night vision, the hunt guides wore suits called an exo. With seracrete plating and high-density carbon composite weave beneath, they were typically used for zero-gravity combat, but made perfect protection for the hunters. The higher quality exos had an interior shield and propulsion packs. They were not just recommended for krey hunters, but required. Gollows had a harder time eating the hunters when they were in an exo suit.
A few dakorians were wearing their own exo suits. The soldier variety was even stronger, the black plating designed to fit and enhance the natural bone armor of the soldiers. Reklin missed his own suit, back on Valana with all his other gear.
As his team fell to arguing about what they would do once they were outside the military, Reklin wished there was a way he could get his team out from under Malikin’s orders. Did his superiors know the names of Reklin’s teammates? If he got out and joined Bright’Lor, would they be put into a new Shard team, or quietly killed?
“How did you know Erlanex was coming here?” Worg asked, eyeing a new arrival. “There’s limited exits, clear sightlines, and not many places to hide.”
Teridon spoke through the team cortex. “Worg is right. This isn’t a good place to go when you’re being hunted.”
“A friend of mine knew Erlanex from decades ago,” Reklin said. “He said every year he comes here to collect glint from a debtor, and one on the hunt always needs glint.”
Reklin spotted a short krey with silver eyes appear through a Gate. He looked about warily, scanning the crowd for threats before lowering his head and slipping behind a dakorian, using his bulk to stay out of view.
Worg followed his gaze and smiled. “Target spotted.”
“About time,” Alina said. “We’re coming from our end. If he runs this way, we’ll cut him off.”
Relieved, Reklin glided off the porch and entered the crowd. Worg followed him and peeled off to the side. They gave the target space by walking behind a group of dakorians with a pair of krey, close enough it seemed they were part of the same group. On their left, the enormous windows looked out upon the empty moon landscape and the world below. On their right, the line of restaurants and respites provided no place of escape. They had Erlanex trapped.
They worked their way closer to the target. Both pretended to give attention to the giant vid screens attached to the windows. The vids showed constant views of the current hunts, an advertisement as much as a warning.
“There,” Worg said, using his chin to point ahead. “Looks like he wants to find a room at one of the cheap respites.”
“He’s probably tired,” Reklin said. “He’s been running for twelve years.”
“His own House wants him dead,” Worg said. “He’s going to think we’re with them.”
“Which is why we have to talk to him before he runs.”
The krey glanced over his shoulder, his silver eyes searching the crowd—and stopping on Worg. The dakorian was focused on a vid screen, but his posture was turned towards the krey. Erlanex scowled and began to accelerate.
“Too late,” Reklin said.
Reklin and Worg lengthened their stride, all but shoving the hunters out of their way. Erlanex didn’t look back, his small frame weaving through knots of hunters watching the vid screens or talking to their guides.
“The only other World Gates are at the other end of the station,” Worg said. “And he can’t make it that far before we catch up.”
“Then we corner him and force him to listen,” Reklin said.
Erlanex bolted, sprinting up the causeway between the wall of windows and the line of structures. Reklin and Worg jumped in pursuit, racing after the fleeing krey. At twice the krey’s stride, the two dakorians quickly closed the gap—until the krey fugitive swerved and sprinted down the only side tunnel.
At the center of the moon base, the shield opened into a tunnel. Flanked by shield emitters, the tunnel extended for a short distance before connecting to a small dome, where six Gates provided the only access to the surface of the planet.
“He’s going for the planet,” Reklin said, turning the corner and plowing through a trio of krey in exos. The hunters were knocked into the shield, shouting profanities.
“Hornless trash!” one roared. “Watch where you’re walking!”
“Is he really stupid enough to go to Midgore?” Worg asked.
“He’s really that desperate,” Reklin said.
Erlanex reached the ready chamber and darted towards one of the Gates, where four krey stood with a trio of dakorians. The krey were in exos, and were laughing as they fastened their helmets. The one at the head of the group had two-tone eyes, and he gave final instructions.
“Remember,” he said, “stay together in a group and watch out for gollows. They’re by far the most dangerous prey you will hunt. Keep your flak launchers pointed outwards at all times—hey, you don’t have an exo!”
