Union, page 19
Nodding, Dorian slid his pistol back into its holster and stood. “The name’s Dorian, by the way. This is Kaya and Mysha.”
“You can call me Martyr,” the woman replied. “The meathead next to me is Morningstar.”
Kaya grunted as she rolled to her feet. “Do you all get cute little nicknames?”
“If we earn it,” Martyr replied, her eyes narrowing. “But speaking of cute nicknames, I’ve never heard of a V’rath named Kaya.”
“You still haven’t.”
Focusing on her powers again, Kaya slowly morphed her body back into its regular human form. Her thick carapace molted back into supple flesh, and her vision and other senses returned to normal. Her jacket and most of her clothing was completely trashed, unfortunately, and she hadn’t bothered wearing one of her adaptive under suits. Dorian threw his own jacket over her as their new potential allies gasped, though Kaya had a feeling that their surprise had nothing to do with her nakedness.
And everything to do with her face.
“By the Seraph!” Morningstar gasped. “What the fuck…?”
“You know what they say, the galaxy’s smaller than you think,” Kaya replied dryly, half tempted to make her hair blond and her eyes green just to fuck with them even more. “Now, let’s get somewhere safe so you can tell me all about your friend Selorah Trell.”
7
Connections
Convincing their new allies to move without explaining why Kaya looked exactly like one of their top operatives was not an easy task. It took a fair amount of impatient scolding on her part—and then the distant wailing of police sirens—to finally get them to retreat into the hatch and lock it behind them. The tunnel on the other side was wide and spacious but bore the marks of extreme age, which suggested to Dorian that this little mechanic shop had probably been a front for many different groups over the decades.
The realization was more than a little concerning under the circumstances. The older the tunnel, the more likely that the local authorities would know about it. But the Union had obviously planned ahead: Morningstar toggled on several invisible trip lasers behind them, each linked to a micro-explosive in the adjacent wall. Even if their pursuers had scanners capable of detecting the traps, disarming them would still take time.
Ten minutes and several sharp turns later, they climbed a set of stairs and emerged inside a completely different building that looked like it had been condemned. Martyr flicked on a wrist-light, illuminating the bare interior of an abandoned residential structure with busted floor tiles, collapsed internal walls, and carbon scoring like someone had chucked a few grenades inside the window and then run away.
After ascending another set of stairs and passing through a dank hallway that had seen better days, they finally entered a relatively clean, rectangular room that looked more like a normal, time-worn building rather than a set piece from a wartime docu-drama. From the empty shelves and the scuffs on the gray tile floors, Dorian guessed that the Union had probably stored some cargo in here—cargo that had recently been moved.
“All right, we can hole up here until one of the booby-traps goes off,” Martyr said, switching on a battery-powered lantern on the wall. Unsurprisingly, adding more light didn’t improve the ambience in the least. “I’d like some answers.”
“Wouldn’t we all,” Kaya muttered, eyes flicking around as she pulled Dorian’s jacket more tightly around her otherwise naked body. He could only assume that she had somehow adapted her lungs to the toxic air without the need of a respirator. If he had to guess, the fact that she was now running around barefoot was probably the most annoying side effect of her V’rath transformation. Distantly, he wondered how many outfits she had destroyed over the years.
“Don’t mind her,” Mysha said. “We’re excited to finally meet someone from the Union.”
“I’d say we get that a lot, but the opposite is true most of the time these days,” Martyr said with a weary sigh. “Personally, I’ll be ecstatic when we pack up all our operations in this region and get the fuck out of here.”
“We were hoping we could go with you,” Dorian ventured.
“I’ll bet you were,” the Kreen replied dryly, her cat-like yellow eyes fixing back on Kaya. “Especially with that very familiar face of yours.”
It was clear that she and her partner expected an explanation before they went any further. It was just as clear that Kaya had no intention of giving them one—or at least, not the lengthy one they wanted.
“It will take too long to explain everything,” Kaya said. “But the short version is that I’m a clone of your boss—and there are a lot more like me.”
Dorian couldn’t conceive of a situation where anyone could drop a bombshell like that and receive anything besides a blank stare, disbelieving laughter, or at the very least a skeptical frown. Martyr went through all three reactions. Morningstar just stared.
“Right…” she muttered. “Because that’s not the craziest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Oh, it gets better,” Kaya said. “Once the Widow has trained enough of these Shadows—and once they’ve mastered all the core psionic disciplines—they’re going to rip apart the Convectorate from the inside and rebuild a new Dominion in its place.”
“There’s a lot more to it,” Mysha put in much more diplomatically. “But we all have powers, and we’re all being chased. We need your help—and we want to help you in return.”
Dorian couldn’t help but notice that her voice had taken on the calm, soothing tones he had witnessed on the Last Stand—which he still didn’t fully understand. She must have been sensing their emotions and responding in a way she thought would best get through to them. At least, he hoped so. It had worked pretty well with his father, all things considered…
Martyr sighed and planted a hand on her hip. “Let’s assume for a minute we take you at your word. What exactly were you expecting to happen here?”
“Like Mysha said, we were hoping we could help each other out,” Dorian explained. “But first, we really want to speak with Spider Zero.”
The Kreen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You thought Selorah would be here?”
“No, but we thought that our contact would be able to help us find her.” He hesitated and gestured to Kaya. “Once we learned the truth about her origin, we started doing some investigating. We actually found footage of you and Spider Zero and some others raiding the underwater base on Ziphrades. But by the time we arrived, you were already gone.”
“How in the…?” Martyr shook her head. “That was weeks ago.”
“Which means you’ve already had time to review the data you stole,” Kaya pointed out. “And is why this little fake surprised act of yours is already wearing thin. You already know about the Shadows of the Seraph—you’re just trying to decide whose side I’m on.”
Dorian felt both his eyebrows rise half a centimeter. Thinking about it, she made a good point—that facility on Ziphrades had been filled with cloning tanks, and even if the Union hadn’t known about the clones of Selorah Tell then, they surely did by now. It was obvious in retrospect, and he kicked himself for not realizing it sooner.
As if I needed another reminder that Kaya knows what she’s doing.
“It’s a legitimate concern, you have to admit,” Martyr said, the corner of her mouth rising slightly. Maybe even approvingly? “The Spiders are getting pretty clever with their gambits these days.”
“Fair,” Kaya admitted. “But if we were working for the Widow, why would we bother with all this nonsense when we could just bring you in?”
“Maybe you realized you can’t take us alone,” Morningstar said darkly, crossing his brawny arms. “Maybe you’re just hoping we’ll lead you back to our base.”
Martyr put a warning hand on one of his enormous biceps. “Look, as much as I’m sure we’d all love to sit here working through the paranoia phase of this relationship, there isn’t time. We need to get back into orbit before the Musheen decide to close the descension tubes and trap us down here while they sort things out. So how about a compromise?”
“We’re listening,” Kaya said.
Martyr and Morningstar shared a quick glance, and it was immediately apparent that the big man didn’t like what she was about to propose. Thankfully, it was equally apparent that she was the one in charge here.
“Let’s meet up in a place where we can actually sit down and have a real conversation,” Martyr said. “We don’t have a central base of operations or anything like that, but there is a safe port where we do business.”
“Perfect,” Kaya said. “Where is it?”
“I’ll put the coordinates in your holopad.”
Martyr took Dorian’s pad and punched in the numbers. They didn’t mean anything to him at a glance, but the navigation app called up the closest system.
“The Vaballa System,” he murmured. “Never heard of it.”
“That’s the idea,” Martyr replied. “There are no jump corridors or trade routes anywhere nearby, just a ship that roams the edge of the system. You need updated coordinates to have any chance of finding it.”
“Clever,” Mysha said with an approving nod. “What kind of ship are we looking for?”
“The big kind. Ever heard of the Pride of Nissek?”
Dorian blinked, the name immediately stirring a memory from one of the many Holosphere information holes he’d fallen down as a teenager. “The former Convectorate flagship?”
“That’s the one.”
He glanced at the girls and saw his confusion mirrored in their faces. That ship had allegedly been destroyed near the start of the Dominion Civil War about a decade ago.
“Meet us there in three days,” Martyr said. “And make sure you aren’t followed.”
Kaya nodded. “We’ve played the game before. Just make sure you get us a meeting with your boss.”
The Kreen smiled wryly. “Selorah isn’t the boss. Though she does have a tendency to act like it sometimes…”
Kaya frowned. “If she’s not in charge, who is?”
“That’s a secret I’ll have to keep a bit longer. Three days—we’ll see you there.”
“Thank you,” Mysha said. “You won’t regret this.”
Morningstar grunted, his arms still crossed. “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”
***
Their trip back to the Prowler was uneventful, though between the sirens and the increased traffic, it was clear that this whole section of Old Talhajiir was about to be swarmed with police and possibly even military forces soon. Dorian had been worried that the Musheen might have already locked down the descension tubes—it wasn’t as if there was any other way up to the surface—but apparently the authorities were content to blame the locals for the chaos rather than travelers. Mysha had them airborne within a minute, and soon after, they were flying back into one of the creepy, organic-looking tubes.
“If the Spiders are planning to make a move for us, this would definitely be the best time,” Kaya said as she pulled on a new shirt and stared out the canopy. She’d had Dorian fetch it for her, not leaving the cockpit. “The port authority could seal both ends and completely trap us inside this thing.”
“Along with dozens of other ships,” Mysha said, pointing at the tac-holo. “It would be a huge traffic disruption.”
“For some reason, I doubt the Widow is concerned about upsetting a few travelers,” Kaya replied dryly. She took a deep breath, amber eyes having narrowed slightly, then shook her head. “But even we aren’t unlucky enough to stumble into two ambushes in one day, right?”
Neither of the others answered the question, and neither seemed to find it particularly amusing, either. The three of them waited silently as they passed through the tube, hearts pounding in anticipation of the eventual security lockdown that would throw them into yet another life-and-death chase.
But Kaya’s challenge to the universe went unanswered, and they emerged into the evening sky on the other side of the Kraken’s Maw without incident. Mysha accelerated along their predefined vector, pushing just enough past the official speed limits to annoy a few automated beacons but not enough to get a personal call from a starport controller.
And then, finally, they were back in space blasting away from Mushiri and the insane flow of traffic surrounding it.
“Almost five hundred light-years away,” Kaya commented as she called up the coordinates on the navigation console. “Her three-day timetable is going to be cutting it close.”
“We can make it,” Mysha said, opening the throttle to put more distance between them and the planet. “Even if we have to push the hyperdrive a bit near the end.”
Dorian nodded and gazed out the canopy. Another planet, another brush with death. One of these days, something truly terrible was bound to happen. He found himself hoping that it would happen to him and not one of the girls…
Burying the thought, acknowledging that he was probably just more fatigued than he realized, he watched in silence as Mysha took them far enough away from the planet to where they could safely jump. And once they finally entered the relative safety of the hyperspace corridor, he let out a long, slow breath as he placed a hand on Mysha’s shoulder.
“With the stealth systems engaged, we’re pretty difficulty to detect,” Kaya said. “But I still think we should change course a few times just in case. If we head to Picon Saiona, then veer over to Bonnar Prime, it should throw off any potential pursuit.”
“And add at least seven hours to the trip,” Mysha countered. “We’ll have to push the drive the whole second leg.”
“I know, but I still think it’s worth it, just in case. We won’t make much of a first impression if we lead a CDF fleet right to their doorstep.”
Nodding reluctantly, Mysha made the proper course adjustments. Dorian had never personally needed to be that clever before, given that he and his father hadn’t been important enough for anyone to chase, but he understood the basic principle. With the Prowler’s reduced sensor profile, most other vessels wouldn’t notice the ship until it was almost visible with the naked eye. But more powerful sensors could theoretically detect their jump trail from farther out even if they didn’t notice the ship itself. Passing through a couple extra systems—especially ones with nebulae or other sensor-disrupting stellar phenomena—would make it that much harder to figure out where they were going.
Unless, of course, a pursuer was shadowing their movements from close range. But the sensors showed no indication that anyone was nearby, and if the Widow or the Vecs had a cloaked ship capable of such a feat, it probably would have tracked them down and blown them to pieces by now.
“Well, I think I’m going to grab a quick meal and lie down for a while,” Dorian said. “Seems like we’re about to have plenty of downtime.”
“I need to make some adjustments to the hyperdrive if we’re going to push it later,” Mysha said. “And probably jury-rig something so the Trydatic core doesn’t blow up.”
Kaya arched an eyebrow. “You’re joking, right?”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
“Oh. Great.” Kaya glanced back over her shoulder to Dorian. “You can use my bed if you want. Getting shot in the shell a few dozen times gave me a second wind.”
“I’m still not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” he said quietly.
“Me turning into a V’rath?”
“You turning into anything.”
Kaya snorted softly. “At least it means I’ll never get boring.”
Dorian stuck around for another minute or so to make certain they were really in the clear, then made his way to the lounge to grab a protein bar. After washing it down with some hot tea, he headed into Kaya’s quarters, went through his usual bedtime routine, and then slid beneath the sheets of her bed to try and get some sleep.
He shouldn’t have been surprised that it took a while for his mind to settle, given that they’d been getting shot at less than an hour ago. But his thoughts were mostly focused on their quick but eventful conversation with Martyr rather than the battle. After all this time and effort, they were finally going to have a chance to join—or least learn more about—the Seraphim Union.
And his father, the man he’d run away from to join the Union in the first place, was the one who had made it all happen.
It was a mindfuck, to be sure, and thinking about his father inevitably made him think about Ghost. One day, he hoped, he would figure out a way to make things right with his creation.
Dorian slept deeply when his mind finally settled. So deeply, in fact, that it took a truly staggering amount of time for Kaya to wake him up.
Particularly because she did so by taking his cock into her mouth.
“Ooh!” he groaned as his eyes fluttered open and his hand instinctively reached down to see what in the hell was going on. He was greeting by the sight of her blue hair bobbing up and down as she throated him for all she was worth.
Kaya popped up for air a moment later, her bare feet crossed and swaying innocently above her toned ass. She was, he quickly noticed, completely naked.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said coyly as she dragged her tongue over his swollen crown. “Though you have to admit, it’s better than waking up to an alarm.”
“Much better,” Dorian agreed, leaning over to check the time. According to the chrono on her nightstand, he had only been out for six hours. Perhaps she had just wanted to reclaim her bed…
Grinning, Kaya parted her lips and swallowed him again, taking every millimeter of his manhood down her throat.
He gasped, intense pleasure racing through him as the world narrowed to the wet, warm squeeze upon his shaft. She held him deep for what seemed like a whole minute, her soft gurgling the only sound in the room, before she abruptly pulled back and came up for air again. She panted breathlessly for a moment, her smile downright devilish as she left his cock begging for more.
