Rise of Renegades, page 45
A space station orbited the planet, a giant ring that provided port for dozens of various ships. The Black Moon sailed to it and docked on the southern end of the halo. Just as the distant clanking signaled they had connected, the door to Reklin’s cell opened. Visika stood with a pair of dakorians.
Reklin said, “Do you personally escort all your prisoners?”
“You’re the first outsider I’ve permitted to see Arnock,” Visika said. “So I guess the answer is yes.”
She motioned to the two dakorians, which flanked Reklin and ushered him into the corridor. Visika took the lead as the group passed krey engineers, all bearing the insignia of the Burning Ghosts and carrying repair equipment on gravity sleds.
“What do you think of Arnock?” Visika asked.
“Let’s just say it’s more than I expected,” he replied.
She chuckled, obviously pleased with his response. “There are many who do not care for the Empire, or the krey Houses. This nebula is in deep space, with nothing of value. To the Empire it doesn’t even have a name, and is called Nebula-991.”
“Was the planet already here,” Reklin asked, “or did you tow it into the nebula?”
“It was here,” she said. “Although I towed it deeper into the nebula and terraformed it. Arnock then became the home planet of the Ghosts, a refuge from the Empire.”
“I assume you used space cleaner probes for the entrance?”
“They work rather well, don’t you think?”
Reklin guessed the woman had at least one secret path out. She would never trap herself in the nebula with no way to escape if they were discovered. Knowing her, she probably had a dozen auxiliary paths through the nebula.
“I’m surprised the Empire has not discovered you,” Reklin said. “Surely they try to get spies in your midst.”
“They try,” she said, “but only a handful of my most trusted know how to navigate to this system. And all cortexes are scanned upon departure and arrival.”
They reached the airlock on the side of the hull and passed through a stretched tunnel to the halo station. More krey engineers, as well as human slaves, carried and pushed repair equipment back the other way. The slaves had earrings like the Houses, but the leash stud was clear instead of showing the color of their owning House.
As they entered the station, a hulking dakorian and a krey stood at a small desk. The krey motioned to Reklin.
“Raise your arm.”
He did, and the krey passed a scanner over the cortex crystal embedded in his wrist. When he was finished, the krey scanned the two dakorian soldiers behind. They did not scan Visika’s holoview—a necessity, given the volume of sensitive data on her personal cortex, but also a potential weakness.
The security did not end there. The four passed through two more checks as they walked the wide corridor around the station. With giant windows on the exterior, the halo-shaped station granted a resplendent view of the nebula. The outer ring was three decks tall, and the inside contained storage and repair compartments. Most of the doors were open, with krey engineers loading seracrete plating or other equipment onto gravity sleds.
They came to a stop at a Gate Chamber adjoining the main arc. Several people were waiting for its use, but Visika passed the line and the foursome Gated to the surface of the planet. Reklin stepped out of the Gate onto a platform on the ledge of a mountain, and surveyed the curving planet stretching away.
Forests sloped across hills and valleys, the trees young, probably the first generation since the terraforming. Visika had chosen a wide variety of plants, some with small green leaves, others with giant purple leaves and bright orange trunks. Rivers flowed from pristine lakes, the water cascading down waterfalls and gurgling through brooks and streams.
But for all its beauty, the planet harbored a darker purpose. Reklin could see fields of gellis weed, the primary component of glow. The hallucinogenic tattoos were illegal across the Empire, but popular among many dakorians. The two dakorians behind Reklin had obviously partaken of the organization product, with bright, vibrant lightning tattoos on their shoulders. Other dakorians supervising the slaves in the fields were equally as tattooed with all manner of patterns.
Some fields produced holith shrubs, the fruit of which made solvented drey, a potent form of the alcoholic drink that was also deemed illegal. A variety of nearby fields grew other illegal products, explaining why Visika had spent so much to prepare the planet. It wasn’t just her primary refuge; it was the source of her primary exports. The entire valley was illuminated by the vibrant nebula, casting it in an odd shadow.
Visika was at his side. “It’s beautiful, is it not?”
“Not to my eyes.”
She chuckled, the sound filled with pleasure. “What did you expect?”
He raised his shackled hands to point to the pristine lakes, where harvesters pulled eye socket fish from the waters. They produced the poison used by assassins for its unique ability to devour only the flesh of an eye, leaving the tortured krey without House affiliation. More potent forms would leave the krey writhing in the throes of death.
“You produce and market addiction and death,” he said. “Even the wildlife is used to destroy.”
“The Empire is built on destruction,” she said. “Have you not yet realized that? The krey are parasites that are constantly at war. What I produce are weapons in that war. I didn’t invent the conflict, I merely profit from it.”
“Which makes the Ghosts worse than the Empire,” Reklin said. “Because you have a choice. What you have built here could be used to help and heal.”
“Like you did as a Shard team captain?” she asked. “Or are you still blind to what you were?”
“I was blind,” he admitted quietly. “And I’m ashamed to realize how the Empire used my talents.”
Visika cocked her head to the side, her expression curious. “Did House Bright’Lor change your perspective? Or was it the slave for which you traded your life?”
“She is much more than a slave.”
She smiled as if she’d gleaned an essential truth and motioned for him to follow. The dakorians at his back nudged him with their hammers, a painful reminder that he was not a guest. He fell into step beside her as they descended a curving slope to a large seracrete structure. Shaped like a seashell, the structure had a spire at the center. Beyond it, there was an ancient cargo ship retrofitted into a prison. It rested on its belly, its surviving hull rusted and cut apart.
“Tell me about the augment,” she said.
Reklin didn’t answer. Anything he said about the human would only make it easier for Visika to find her. The woman was devious and brilliant, and Reklin wasn’t about to give her anything she could use.
He felt a pinch at the center of his spine, and glanced over his shoulder. The dakorian retreated, a smug smile on his features. Then a spark of pain came from the spine clamp. Reklin’s legs buckled but he managed to not fall on his face.
“That wasn’t a request,” Visika said mildly.
“I don’t care,” he said.
Visika laughed, but the sound was one of admiration. “You are not as I expected, hornless. You speak with dignity and reservation, and are willing to endure pain for the life of a slave.”
“She’s my friend.”
“Why?” she challenged. “Why would a soldier be friends with a slave?”
“Because she is no more a slave than you are.”
“You dare to compare a human to the Ghost Queen?” one of the dakorians growled.
This spine clamp burned into his spinal cord, the pain excruciating and extending from his skull to his toes. He fell to his knees, his jaw locking as he fought to keep the shout from escaping. When it subsided he found Visika crouched at his side.
“I must apologize,” she said. “Some of my guards are rather protective.”
“No matter,” he replied, wiping blood from where he’d bitten his skin. “I enjoy the feel of dirt under my hands.”
She laughed and raised a hand to forestall the dakorian from activating the spine clamp again. “That is the Reklin I expected to see. The formidable soldier that rose to the rank of Shard captain and cut his horns to become a Bloodwall.”
He grabbed a stone and pulled himself to his feet. “That soldier was before,” he said. “It’s not me anymore.”
“The slave changed you so much?”
He considered the question and then shrugged. “She did.”
“Why?” Visika asked again.
“Because she showed me a higher purpose.”
Visika regarded him with a puzzled look. Reklin could not have explained further even if he wanted to. When Siena had used her time augment, it had nearly killed her. Yet she’d done it without thinking, to save not just Reklin, but his entire family. That level of sacrifice had changed something in Reklin. Siena might be human, but she was his friend and family. Such a sentiment would be impossible to explain.
“Your position will not be popular here,” Visika said. “Slave lovers are not well liked.”
“I’ve never liked the spotlight,” he said.
She caught his shoulder spike and pushed him to the edge of the road, leaning him over the several-hundred-foot cliff. Reklin balanced on the edge, but with his feet and hands shackled, he was at Visika’s mercy. The woman held him on the balance point.
“Would you really die for a slave?” she asked.
With the wind brushing against his back and his heels leaning over empty space, he held the woman’s gaze. “Have you ever trusted someone?”
“Six,” she said. “All have since tried to kill me. All are now dead.”
“What about your family? Your clan?”
“My family was scattered when I was just four years old,” she said. “I was raised by a new family, one that treated me with disgust. They pitted me against their strongest whelps so I would get beaten. Every day I slept with deep wounds and broken bones, and every day I fought my way to survive. Then I fought to win. By the age of twenty I could defeat every member in the family, so they fought me two at a time. I learned to beat them. Then three at a time. I beat them anyway. When I was old enough for my final test they all refused to be my tester, and I ascended without a challenger.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But that’s not a family. That’s a prison.”
She stepped in, nearly toppling him over the edge. Her eyes blazed with sudden anger. “You think to lecture me about prison? You don’t understand the word.”
“I understand enough,” he said. “Everything you’ve ever done is to prove yourself to a family that does not exist. You fought your way to the top in the clan, and then in the military, and then as the Ghost Queen. But that drive for perfection, for supremacy, comes because you crave approval.”
“You know nothing about me,” she hissed.
But he was right. He could see it in her anger, in the tension to her shoulders, in the way her fingers tightened on his shoulder bone. He’d struck a chord. Visika had lived for thousands of years in the worst type of solitude. One of her own making.
“For all those that should have shown you affection,” he said, his voice soft and earnest, “I’m sorry.”
For an instant he thought she would drop him, just toss him off the cliff and let him fall to his death. Then she growled and yanked him from the ledge, throwing him onto the road. Reklin had always been strong, but Visika was far greater. He doubted even Olgor would have been able to survive a duel with the Ghost Queen.
“Where is the augment world?” she demanded.
Reklin did not respond, and the spine clamp burned again. As he huddled in pain, he fleetingly wondered if it was the same pain Siena had felt when Laurik had branded her a ferox. A handful of dakorians and krey walked around them, ascending or descending the road. They veered out of the way, but most didn’t spare him more than a curious glance.
“How can I locate Ero or Skorn?”
Again Reklin remained silent, and again the pain arced through him. Visika growled more questions, and each time the punishment was swift. Reklin recognized the pain for what it was. Retribution. Visika hated her truth being spoken so easily, and abhorred Reklin’s pity.
“The Ghost Queen demands you speak,” the dakorian soldier growled.
“Rest easy, Hog,” she said, her calm suddenly returning. “Reklin will speak in time.”
“I won’t,” he said.
She smiled and turned away. “That’s what they all say.”
She activated her holoview and tapped a symbol. From her wrist, silver liquid flowed outward and formed a Gate. Reklin was shocked. He’d never seen a personal holoview with an embedded Gate. She waved to the two soldiers as she stepped through.
“Put him with the work crews under Gellow. He’ll know what to do with a slave lover.”
She passed through the Gate and the silver light disappeared. Hog shoved Reklin forward, making him stumble down the road. He and his silent companion moved forward to stand to either side of Reklin.
“Welcome to the Ghosts,” Hog said. “I would say get comfortable, but I don’t think you’ll last long.”
Reklin, with pain lingering through his body and blood coming from his nose’s burst blood vessels, stumbled to keep up with the two Ghosts as they descended the road. At the bottom was Gellow, Reklin’s former captain, whom Reklin had betrayed and gotten expelled from the military. Reklin held no illusions regarding what his new reality would be, but he grimly steeled himself for what he would have to endure, and the promise he would keep. No matter the cost, no matter the obstacle, no matter the pain, he would escape. Because he had a secret that none but Siena knew.
They thought he was weak.
But his augment gave him power.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“No word from House Zeltil’Dor.” Ero disengaged the holo with a nod. “They don’t know Laurik’s dead.”
Skorn leaned back in his chair and regarded him with irritation. The two were at an obscure restaurant on the smallest continent of the planet. It was night, and the place was empty except for them. Known for bad food and ill-tempered service, the place served overcooked meat and cheap drey, a perfect spot for a secretive meeting.
“This is your fault,” Skorn said.
Ero raised his hands in protest. “Me? Why?”
Skorn glared at him. “You taught her to fight and gave her a weapon. A subdermal energy blade, no less. I told you she would kill a krey.”
Ero grinned and recalled the moment she had plunged her energy blade through Laurik. It was a memory he would cherish. And not just because Laurik was horrible. Siena hadn’t even hesitated.
“Fine,” Ero said. “That was my fault—but I don’t regret it.”
“That girl is going to destroy us all.” Skorn’s glare would have made seracrete buckle.
“Why are you so upset?” Ero asked. “I thought you said Laurik’s death didn’t matter.”
Skorn ground his teeth together, and Ero enjoyed his brother’s irritation. Since Siena had killed Laurik two days ago, Skorn had been furious, but oddly relieved. Ero knew his brother was hiding something, and guessed it was good news.
“Laurik was not acting on behalf of her House,” Skorn grudgingly said.
Ero stared in surprise. “What?”
“After Laurik was killed, I prepared our House to explain to House Zeltil’Dor why she was dead. Turns out they are hunting her as a traitor.”
“Why?” Ero asked.
“She stole eight trillion glint from her House when she came to us,” Skorn said. “In her personal holoview I found evidence of her plans to kill us and take over. She assumed the two of us were weak, and with us dead there was no one to stop her from controlling the augments.”
“So Siena did us a favor?” A smile spread on Ero’s face.
“Don’t smile like that.” Skorn’s expression was disgusted. “It’s annoying.”
“But I was right.”
“I’m not going to admit that.”
Ero’s smile would not be restrained. His augment had eliminated a potential assassin in their ranks. Plus, he hadn’t liked Laurik, so that was a bonus. Everything was working out perfectly.
Then Skorn leaned in and lowered his voice to a hiss. “Are you really that happy? Your slave killed a krey—a noble from a powerful house, no less.”
“Laurik was killing her with the inflicting rod,” he said. “What did you expect Siena to do?”
“Die.” Skorn said it like it was obvious. “She’s a slave. That’s what slaves are supposed to do when their owners decide they’ve outlived their usefulness.”
“Not Siena.”
Skorn’s eyes narrowed at the hint of pride in his voice. “She won’t always kill someone you don’t like,” he said. “So what will you do when she kills a krey you do like? What would you do if she killed me?”
“I’d be disappointed.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “Do you have any suggestions on how to spend your share when the augments go to market?”
Skorn grunted in irritation. “You’re impossible.”
“I know,” he said with a smile.
A human youth approached the table and quietly picked up their partially empty plates. He disappeared without a word and returned with a bottle of drey. Neither of them touched it as the server departed.
The news that Laurik had acted outside the approval of her House was significant. Instead of an ally in House Zeltil’Dor, Laurik’s actions had turned them into an enemy. When they learned that House Bright’Lor had been the recipient of Laurik’s treachery, they would want it back, with interest. If they found out.
A pair of krey entered the restaurant and claimed the furthest table. They spoke in low tones, their clothing rough and tattered. Probably Houseless. Probably fugitives. This far away from the main cities on Mylttium, such krey were common. After several millennia of the rise and fall of krey Houses, many individuals had been shed. If Ero and Skorn failed in their endeavor, they would be just like them. If someone else managed to claim the augments, Ero and Skorn would probably be long dead.
