The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire Book 1), page 10
Mira’s jaw clenched. “The legionnaires did to my family what they did to yours. And I swore I wouldn’t stop until I made them burn.”
“Did you? Make them burn?”
Darkness lurked in Mira’s eyes. “Yes. The ones who were there. But it won’t be over until every last one of them is dead.”
“No,” Kalie said lowly. “It won’t.”
Dead Space, Sector 8
Decemmensis-10, 817 cycles A.F.C.
Despite her heavy eyelids and the exhaustion muddling her mind, Kalie wasn’t able to sleep. The loud roar of the thrusters and the sputter of a broken air circulator reminded her how unspeakably wrong everything was. She and Ariah were supposed to be back on Dali by now, celebrating Marcus’s victory over breakfast with Aunt Calida and Lexie. Instead she was in this hovel of a ship, blindly following a mercenary to a potential ally without a name, while Mother and Selene circled the throne.
She wanted to rage. She wanted to sob.
She didn’t have the energy for either.
When the intercom crackled the next morning and Cybel announced that they’d be docking in ten minutes, Kalie pushed herself off the stiff bunk and trudged into the common area. The aroma of freshly-brewed kaf swirled through the cabin.
“Morning,” Mira called, with a two-fingered wave. She, Wells, and Cybel crowded around the holoprojector, staring intently at holographic monsters circling each other. “There’s kaf in the kitchen, and we’ve got a game of travar going, if you want to join.”
“I’ve never played,” Kalie admitted, brushing her hair behind her ear.
“That’s just criminal. Grab some kaf and join us.”
Wells smirked at Mira. “Do you need an audience to see you lose?”
She swatted his arm, and he raised his hands.
“Kidding.”
“You’d better be.” Mira hunched over the projector, gripping the controller. “You’re going down, playboy.”
Muffled thuds and the synthesized shrieks of animals rang out as the brewchine hissed. A stream of dark brown kaf poured into a chipped red mug, and steam wafted from the cup, carrying the faintest hint of cinnamon. Kalie took a sip and choked on the bitter brew.
It was straight black kaf. No flavoring.
Her eyes stung.
She only knew one other person crazy enough to buy kaf without flavoring, and the similarities struck her in painful clarity. Mira’s swaggering confidence, her authoritative character… She was so much like Ariah that it stung.
Kalie forced the memories down and practiced a smile until she could hold it. Only then did she cross the cabin and sink into a metal chair someone had dragged over from the table.
All three avatars still stood, but Mira’s genapi cub was draining the health of Wells’s horned Dalian pelaros. Cursing, Wells jabbed at his controller. Cybel’s monstrous ranorak sliced at their avatars with its claws, and the aibot cackled as the ranorak ripped off the pelaros’s horn. The health meter above Wells’s pelaros flashed red. With a pop, the avatar vanished.
Wells swore, and Kalie took a sip of her kaf to hide her smirk.
Cybel’s ranorak retreated from its attack and prowled around Mira’s bleeding cub, but as it lunged for her beast again, she flicked an orange switch on the aibot’s chest plate. The light in Cybel’s optics fizzled out. Mira sidestepped the ranorak’s attack and pummeled the motionless avatar until its life force ran out.
“Is that how the game is played?” Kalie asked, arching an eyebrow at the deactivated aibot.
Wells rolled his eyes. “No. She cheated, again.”
Whistling, Mira flipped a credit chip in the air. “Where I come from, there’s no such thing as cheating.”
“Where do you come from?”
Wells leaned forward, studying Mira. He, too, seemed to want an answer.
She spread an arm around the cabin as if to say, here.
“I mean originally,” Kalie said.
“Honestly?” Mira grinned, but her eyes had lost their gleam. “I have no idea.”
It had to be a lie. Who didn’t have at least an inkling about where they came from? Yet Mira’s loose posture and unwavering eye contact radiated conviction and honesty.
Something beeped in the cockpit, and Mira leapt to her feet. “That’s my cue to dock. Power Cy back on, will you?”
“Where are we docking?” Kalie called, but as she’d expected, Mira didn’t answer.
A shiver trickled down her spine, but despite her considerable arsenal, Mira didn’t seem like a threat. Wells didn’t either. He needed her alive to get his money.
She could trust him.
She could probably trust him.
Maybe.
“I don’t suppose you know where we are?”
Wells shrugged. As he flicked the switch to power Cybel on, a furrow appeared between his brows.
“What is it?”
“Back on Krii’s flagship, when Mira brought me in. You told them I was trying to stop you in the tunnels. Why?”
Kalie studied him for any sign that he intended to mock her, but he wasn’t smirking now, and the arrogance that usually laced his voice was gone.
“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of me,” she mumbled.
He ducked his head. “Thanks.”
“I would’ve done it for anyone.”
Wells’s face scrunched up, as if he was considering something.
A heavy metal clang jolted through the cabin. Then came the telltale hiss of an airlock adjusting to the pressure on the other side of the boarding tube. Steam rose from the outline of the airlock’s heavy metal hatch, wafting across the closed cargo ramp.
Kalie’s mouth went dry. Any second, that door would open.
“Her client.” Wells hooked his thumb towards the cockpit and lowered his voice. “He’ll talk a good game, but stay sharp. He’s a suit. At the end of the day, he only has his interests at heart. You understand me?”
It took all her cycles of practice to keep her surprise off her face. Kalie nodded.
Wells settled into the couch. His expression morphed into lazy smugness as Mira sauntered into the room.
“Conspiring without me?”
Wells grinned. “Never.”
A light next to the airlock flashed green, and Mira hauled the hatch open. Kalie stuffed her hands in her pockets. As she followed Mira through the drab gray tube, Wells’s footsteps shuffled after them.
“Hannover, you’re with me. Zane, you’re going to the medbay—”
“I’m fine.”
“—to make sure that wound is fully healed.” Mira raised her eyebrows. “Cybel’s not a licensed doctor. I’d hate for you to lose the use of your sword arm just because you’re stubborn.”
“Sword arm,” Kalie echoed. “You fence?”
Wells’s jaw tightened. “I used to. A long time ago.”
“My brother fences, too. They say Theron’s the best duelist in the Etovian Empire. Were you any good?”
Wells glared at her. Point taken. Touchy subject.
Judging by her exaggerated groan, Mira didn’t notice. “Please, don’t get him started. If I have to hear about his championships one more time…”
The room on the other side of the tube was clean but plain, and it smelled strongly of ammonia. Supply racks lined the gray walls, and seats were nailed into the tile floors. Men in pressed gray uniforms conferred with hangar bay mechanics in orange vests. All of them had pulsers holstered at their hips.
Kalie gulped.
Mira pulled a soldier aside and tasked him with seeing Wells to the medbay. “And make sure he stays there,” she added, winking.
He scowled, and she blew him a kiss as the soldier led him away.
Kalie narrowed her eyes at Wells’s retreating figure.
“This way, Hannover.”
The way Mira strode through the hangar bay was familiar. It was the way Aunt Calida moved, as if crowds were fluid things, designed to bend at her will. Soldiers and attendants parted before her. She commanded respect, and if she was anything like Aunt Calida, she deserved it.
Kalie drew her lip between her teeth as they entered a grim metal passageway.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
If she was right, Mira deserved to know what Wells had been doing in that bar.
Mira snorted as she waved her hand. Sparkling lights glinted off the silver band on her ring finger. “Nah. We had a fling a few cycles ago, but it was nothing serious.”
Her jaw had clenched, though, and her shoulders drooped.
“And the ring?”
Mira stumbled but caught herself mid-step. Her face turned to stone. They walked in silence, accompanied by the hum of the vents and the thud of Mira’s combat boots.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said gruffly.
So the ring had a story. They always did.
From the depths of her buried memories, a crowded ballroom emerged. Nobles exclaimed in surprise, fireflies flitted through the hall, and aromas wafted off her favorite white lilies. Wincing, Kalie pushed the memory of the sparkling diamond aside.
“Do you trust him?”
Mira smiled. “Yeah. He’s the only person I trust, really.”
“Why?”
As they rounded a corner, Mira frowned at her. “You look at Zane and see a sleazy, arrogant ass, don’t you? But deep down, there’s an honorable man in him. A man that wants to do good. It was his plan to rescue you, you know.”
Kalie scoffed. “He didn’t want anything to happen to his money, I’m sure.”
“I mean, yeah. But that doesn’t mean he’s a heartless bastard.” Mira sighed. “You don’t see it. Okay. The day I met him, I was working a score. A bounty, you know. I caused an accident on the hoverway to buy myself time to escape. No one was supposed to get hurt.”
Mira held open a door to another passageway, and Kalie stepped through.
“A kid dropped her toy in the street, and she ran back for it. Zane didn’t think twice. He tackled her out of the way, and when my hovercraft exploded, he used his body to shield her from the blast. Then he chased after me, to stop me from getting away. Ended up helping me instead, but he wanted to do good. And trust me when I say he was a lot worse back then than he is now.”
“Worse?”
“He wasn’t just a mess.” A frown twisted at Mira’s lips, and she breathed out slowly, shaking her head. “He was a walking disaster.”
They were skirting closer to the truth she sought. Kalie could barely keep the anticipation from her voice as she asked, “Why?”
Mira opened a door. Her smile made it clear she wouldn’t say any more.
Inside the conference room, a man with dark skin and salt-and-pepper hair sat behind a round table. His military uniform was neatly pressed. Screens covered the left wall, displaying diagrams, images of star systems, and maps with planets colored either red, green, or gray. Dali was green. Oeksa, the Federation’s capital, was red.
“Please, take a seat.”
As she sank into a cushioned office chair, the scars covering the man’s face became clearer. Blotchy, discolored skin surrounded his left eye, and the pupil was dramatically enlarged. A black eyepatch with a scarlet ‘X’ covered his right eye. He must’ve seen serious combat. She’d met Dalian veterans with wounds and scars a few times before, mainly those who came back from the mess on Oppalli, but never with injuries to this extent.
“My eyes?” The man chuckled. “Got hit with a toxin during a battle. I was around your age.”
Heat flooded Kalie’s cheeks, and she muttered a hasty apology. He flicked his hand.
“I can tell you’re nervous, Duchissa, so I’ll forgive you for staring.”
He continued with a formal greeting, but Kalie was hardly listening. Duchissa. A lump swelled in her throat. He shouldn’t be calling her that. Aunt Calida was the Duchissa, and when she died, the crown should’ve been Lexie’s. Not hers. Never hers.
The room had fallen silent, and Mira raised her eyebrows.
Kalie winced. She’d missed the man’s greeting. And possibly his name.
“Thank you, sir. But, if you can forgive me for asking, who are you?”
“You can call me General Akron. But I suspect you’re asking about all of this, aren’t you?” He swept an arm around the room.
There was no point in lying, so Kalie nodded. Of all the heads of state she’d encountered, she’d never met one named Akron, and a veteran soldier like him couldn’t be the suit Wells had warned her about.
The General clasped his hands. “Mira tells me you want revenge, and that you believe Carik is responsible for the murders of your family.”
His words touched a raw, bleeding wound in her heart, and she whispered, “Yes.”
“Then I think we have a common goal: ending Carik’s reign. You’ll forgive me if I speak vaguely. I’m not at liberty to disclose much, but everything will be explained in due time—”
“No.” Kalie leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. The table’s stiff edge dug into her arms. “I’ve waited long enough. Tell me now. If you want to end Carik’s reign, I’m guessing you want my help. So stop dancing around an explanation and tell me what’s going on here.”
The shifting screens produced a steady buzz, punctuated every few seconds by a muted chirp. Footsteps thudded against the floor outside, accompanied by hushed voices.
Akron regarded her impassively. Kalie looked to Mira to back her up, but she was leaning against the spotless wall, watching with a hawk’s focus.
The General tapped his earpiece. “You can come in, sir. She’s committed.”
Frigid air blasted from the vents above Kalie’s seat, piercing through her thick sweater. She buried her arms in her sleeves, but she didn’t relax her posture or her glare.
The door swished open. As Kalie turned, she nearly fell out of her chair.
The Dynarian man who strode through the door, dressed in military fatigues, was as familiar a face on the news as Marcus. Since his first appearance on the campaign trail six cycles ago, his pale green face had become more lined, his hair more gray. Still, there was no mistaking Carik’s opponent from the last election: the planet Dynar’s radical head of state, who controlled most of Sector Eight.
Minister Gar.
Kalie’s wide eyes shot to Mira. “He’s your client?”
Mira nodded.
The chair’s wheels rattled against the chambray carpet as Minister Gar seated himself beside the general.
“My apologies for the secrecy, Duchissa,” Gar rasped, “but surely you understand how compromising it would be if word of my operations got back to Carik’s ears.”
Kalie’s jaw dropped as it all clicked—the rebel attack on a Sector Eight outpost that had cost Krii his prestige, the silence from Dynar ever since the last election, the rumors of militarization in Sector Eight.
“You’re planning to usurp Carik’s title. The rebels answer to you.”
“Indeed.”
Gar’s voice was brittle, his breaths heavy and ragged. It was a result of the mysterious, near-fatal illness that had preceded his withdrawal from the election three cycles ago. Everyone said poison, but Gar had been tight-lipped about the matter.
“You want my help.”
Akron sighed. “If Marcus Pool still lived… we wouldn’t be here, would we? But as it stands, you’ll be crowned Duchissa of Dali. Sector Four will follow you. The public is outraged, so allies will come easily. We have fleets, but our technology is outdated, and our resources are nothing compared to what the Federation has. With the wealth Dali could bring…”
Sweat beaded on Kalie’s forehead. “You want war.”
“Yes.” Gar cleared his throat and winced. “You’ve seen the damage Carik’s done. It’s already getting worse, and we have at least another three cycles with him in office. We have to make a move now, while the people are angry enough to follow.”
Kalie swallowed. The Dalian civil war twenty cycles ago had been catastrophic, and that was just one planet. “There’s no telling what damage would ensue. Entire civilizations could be wiped out—”
“We’ve been preparing for war for three cycles. If we don’t strike now, we won’t get a chance like this again.”
She pursed her lips. If they’d been preparing for war for three cycles, that put the beginning of their preparations shortly after Gar had dropped out of the election of 814. They hadn’t stopped preparing since, even when it looked like Marcus would win.
“If a war was fought, and Carik was removed, who would take his place?”
“It would come down to an election.” Gar’s green lips curved into a smile. “The people should decide. It’s how the system ought to work.”
“He’s a suit,” Wells had warned her. “At the end of the day, he only has his interests at heart.”
Akron pressed a button. The holoscreen honed in on the map of the Federation. “We’ve been monitoring reactions to the aftermath of the election. Based on our intel, five hundred and twenty-one planets are opposed to Carik’s continued reign.”
“The ones in green,” Gar clarified.
“Of those, we estimate half would support military action against Carik. Others might follow, provided the initial effort seemed successful. Then there are the neutral planets, the ones in gray—” Akron pointed at the largest cluster of gray planets, which made up the bulk of Sector Three— “and with your family’s connections, you could sway some of them to join us.”
Chewing on her lip, Kalie sank into her stiff chair. Regardless of their motivations, their logic was sound, but if she unleashed war, the entire Federation would suffer. There was no guarantee the Dalian military would support her, much less the nobility, who would only ever see her as the screw-up daughter of their former enemy. And to complicate everything, Selene was trying to steal the throne. If Mother had anything to say about it, Selene would be the Duchissa.
Under the table, Kalie’s nails tore into her palms.
“If you want him to pay, Hannover,” Mira said, “now’s your chance.”
