Kane didn’t hesitate. “Yes!”
A thousand times, yes. Just flip the goddamned switch!
Fleece smiled. This time he was pleased. Kane could tell by the length of his strides as he made his way to the air tanks mounted on the wall. There was a collective exhale from all around, the sound of fifty men silently praying for release.
And then Fleece did it. He flipped the switch.
Kane was so elated he could cry. He squeezed his nose through an open square in the chain link and inhaled one eager gasp after another until he smelled that familiar aroma, the one that promised everything would be all right. And it was. The rush came like a thousand rays of sunlight trying to escape from his body. A blanket of pleasure wrapped around him, starting at his toes and electrifying every inch of him until he imagined his hair stood on end. With his lips parted, he threw back his head and rode the sensation for wave after intoxicating wave. Then slowly, it began to recede like the tide, farther and farther away until nothing remained.
When it was over, he found himself on the floor once again.
Counting the hours until next time.
Adel Vice was a paradise in the making.
Most of the planet was still in basic terraformed mode, a blank slate of soil and sea. But the developed areas bloomed with lush, tropical greenery and crystal beaches made from the silkiest imported sands in the galaxy. A sprawling resort hugged the waterfront, stretching in a thin curve along the surf that ensured every room offered a stunning view. Behind the suites, construction was wrapping up for various restaurants, nightclubs, casinos, and a few buildings designated as VICE DENS. The clatter of nail guns filled the air, joined by the scents of plaster and wet paint as workers rushed to finish in time for next week’s top secret grand opening. Supposedly, the first group of guests had been extended private invitations based on the absurdity of their wealth and their reputations for debauchery.
Whatever.
As long as Kane received his daily allowance, it was all good.
He’d only been here for three days, but he knew the routine. It wasn’t exactly rocket science. The Zhang mafia ran the place. Ari Zhang was the head boss, but no one ever saw him. He’d brought in dozens of managers from Earth to take care of business. Those men wore red shirts to distinguish themselves from the workers, who wore white. As long as Kane did what he was told, he received an inhaler refill each morning at breakfast. The refill didn’t give him the rush he craved—he had to work a whole week to earn that—but it made him strong enough to get through the day.
Obey the Redshirts. Breathe. Repeat. It was easy.
The first few days had covered basic orientation. Now Kane and the other newcomers were gathered outside the administration building to receive their work assignments. He peered at the dozen or so boxy dorms arranged in tidy rows behind the admin building and wondered which one would be his. According to rumors, workers were divided by occupation and bunked together in barracks similar to the mining camp on Batavion.
“All right, listen up,” hollered a Redshirt at the front of the group. “When I call your name, report to the corresponding housing number. Your supervisor will meet you there and show you the ropes. Don’t bother asking for a substitution, because that’s not how it works here. You’ll do the job you’re assigned. Understood?”
Everyone nodded.
The Redshirt pointed at barracks number one and called the names of the maintenance workers. After those men strode away, he repeated the process for the service staff in barracks two, and then the cleaning crew in building number three. Somewhere around group six, he stopped mentioning what the occupations were. The seventh group consisted of all women. Their dorm was located off to the side, behind an electric fence. Kane dropped his gaze as the ladies padded quietly across the lawn. He didn’t want to think about what their job was. He took a puff of his inhaler to chase away the sick feeling in his chest. As soon as that sweet flavor crossed his tongue, his shoulders lightened and he sighed in relief.
Sometime later, Kane heard his name, along with instructions to report to building number eleven. He waited to hear who else was assigned to that barracks, but the Redshirt moved on to the next group. With a shrug and another breath from his inhaler, he made his way to the last dorm at the end of the residential area. The door was propped open, so he leaned inside and peeked around, finding it vacant.
The room was laid out much as he’d expected, with two rows of bunks leading to a washroom at the other end. About half the mattresses were bare, telling him which beds were available—most of them upper bunks. No surprise there. What did pique his interest was the gym equipment lining the perimeter of the room. It looked like a training circuit.
Kane stepped inside for a closer look at the weights. If the Redshirts expected him to bulk up, maybe they’d increase his daily inhaler allowance. He would love that.
A toilet flushed in the washroom, and a beefy, middle-aged Redshirt strode into view. The man’s legs were thick with muscle, forcing him into an awkward waddle that reminded Kane of the geese on Eturia. They were territorial birds, meaner than they looked, especially if you wandered too close to their hatchlings. That was how his friendship with Cassia had begun, when he’d rescued her from a rampaging goose by throwing his cookie to the bird. He would never forget the look she’d given him afterward, like he’d saved her from a burning building instead of a dull beak.
Kane felt a tug at his stomach. He shut down the memory and took another breath from his inhaler. One hiss later and the tugging was gone.
The noise caused the Redshirt to glance at him.
“I’m Jude,” Kane said. “They told me to come here and meet my supervisor.”
“That’d be me. Just call me boss.” The man had an earthquake voice, low and rumbly. He pointed to a standing metal cabinet. “Sheets are in there. Pick a bunk.”
Kane did as he was told, choosing an upper cot the farthest from the washroom. While making his bed, he thought of a question. “Hey, boss. Can I ask you something?”
The Redshirt grunted. “Shoot.”
“I know I’m always supposed to say yes, but what if two guests want contradictory things? What if one person asks for lunch on the beach, but on my way to get it, someone else stops me and tells me to haul luggage?” The question might sound ridiculous, but he couldn’t afford to make a mistake and lose his allowance. “Which guest do I listen to?”
For the first time, his boss grinned. “Don’t worry about that, kid. You’ll be working in the pit. Running errands isn’t your job.”
The pit? “What’s that?”
“Live-action games and combat. It’s part of the casino. Guests lay odds on their favorite fighter, and you do your best to win. It’s that simple.”
Kane glanced at the weight rack. Now he understood the reason for the strength-training circuit. The men in this dorm were fighters. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He was good with his fists, but not skilled enough to use them for a living. Then he remembered something Necktie Fleece had said on board the ship…something about fighting an opponent until the man was dead.
An icy finger traced his spine.
“Like gladiator games?” he asked.
“Yeah,” his boss said, nodding. “Exactly like that.”
The back door swung open, and a man in white walked inside, so tall he had to duck his head to avoid hitting it on the top frame. Clearly, he was a fighter, too. He hooked a left and disappeared inside the washroom, but not before Kane caught a glimpse of his battleship arms.
He wouldn’t last five minutes against that guy.
“Look here, kid,” his boss said. He must’ve seen the fear on Kane’s face, because he reached in his pocket and produced a gold inhaler. “Do you know what this is?”
“The refill we earn at the end of the week?”
The Redshirt laughed. “Hell no. Better than that. Way better. Forget that garbage you breathed on the ship. This will make you feel so good you
’ll forget your own name.”
Kane’s heart raced with instant longing.
“This is a special kind of reward. Only two types of workers can have it—the lovers and the fighters.” He gave the tube a light shake. “The best part is you won’t have to wait a week to get your hands on it.”
Kane licked his lips, too hypnotized to speak.
“The pit fighters are the real stars here,” his boss said. “While the other schmucks haul luggage and fetch drinks, saving up for a weekly fix of diluted crap, you’ll be breathing this golden air every time you compete.”
A pang of need tore a jagged gash through Kane’s insides. He sucked on his inhaler, pumping it again and again to stave off the craving, but it wasn’t enough. He had to have what was inside that gold tube.
“Fight hard, and this’ll be yours,” the man promised. “Every single day of your life.”
That was all Kane needed to hear.
He jerked his chin toward the weight rack. “When can I start?”
Cassia’s second homecoming was no better than the first. While she couldn’t deny the accommodations were more luxurious—a private cruiser with Gage Spaulding as her escort—comfort wasn’t everything. At least when the Daeva had dragged her home in chains, it’d been with the knowledge that Kane was safe. That peace of mind had given her the freedom to focus on her own needs.
Which wasn’t the case right now.
She sat in the pilothouse, fidgeting in her seat, as she waited for Eturia to come into sight. During her last conversation with Jordan, she’d learned someone had cut the power to the entire prison block on the night of Marius’s escape, so in addition to her murderous husband, every rebel her men had ever captured was now free to resume plotting against her. Then there was the issue of keeping her people safe, something she could only do by urging them to stay indoors.
But despite the mounting crises, her eyes kept wandering back to the transmission switch. Renny hadn’t called today. Maybe she should radio the Banshee again to see if he and the crew had made any progress in tracking Kane.
“Land ho,” Gage said in a mock sailor’s voice while pointing beyond the pilot controls to a glowing marble in the distance. “There’s your home.”
Dread congealed in Cassia’s stomach. She wasn’t ready for this.
“Now, let’s make like a null matrix element and vanish.”
She slid him a glance. “A null-matrix-what?”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, going a little red in the cheeks. “Science-nerd humor. I’m cloaking us so no one will pick up our signal.”
With the press of a button, their ship became undetectable to satellites and radar. Gage’s cruiser had all the latest gadgets, one of the reasons she had asked for his help. The other reason had to do with his constant science jokes. He had a brilliant mind. It was Gage who’d listened to her description of Kane’s erratic behavior and theorized their plague was really an addiction. As soon as he’d suggested it, Cassia had known he was right. Half of her people were in withdrawal, Kane included, all of them in danger of losing their free will to Marius or to the mafia. But if anyone could find a way to break their dependency, it was the prodigy by her side.
“Thanks again for all this,” she said, waving a hand to indicate the ship and beyond. She knew how busy Gage was with his start-up business. “I can’t pay you right now, but I’ll wire you the credits as soon as I can.”
“Like I need your money,” he dismissed with a grin. “You see, I invented this super-fuel called Infinium. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
She gave his arm a playful shove. “I think Solara had it backward when she called you the evil twin. Doran never flew me across two sectors in a private cruiser.”
“And let you have the master quarters.”
“And that.”
“Well, don’t count me out. I could be evil if I tried.”
“It’s too late. I already like you.”
His smile warmed, but at the same time, defeat rounded his shoulders. “That goes both ways. Even though I know I don’t stand a frosty chance in hell with you.”
Because of Kane.
She had managed to forget about him for a fraction of a second. The reminder was a blow to the stomach.
Gage reached over and touched her hand. “They’re going to find him.”
“I know they will,” she agreed. That wasn’t the problem. What kept her awake most nights was wondering how much of the old Kane—her Kane—would be left after the crew tracked him down. She had no idea what was happening on Adel Vice, but if the mafia was involved, it couldn’t be good. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Nodding, Gage gestured ahead, where Eturia loomed beneath a protective bubble of static. “How about we discuss that shield? I can disable it with a surge bomb if you want.”
“No!”
He flinched. “You win. No surge bomb.”
“I’ve seen your toys in action. No need for that.” She pointed at the southernmost continent. “Once we’re in range of the shield controls, I’ll issue a ten-second override. That’ll give us plenty of time to get through. Then we’ll head straight for my security station before anyone sees us.”
“Want to radio your people?”
“Not while there’s a chance Marius might overhear.” She didn’t want him to know she was home until she knew how to handle him. “This’ll be a surprise stop.”
“You got it, boss.”
Cassia smiled. At least she had great friends.
They continued ahead and made it past the shield without a hitch. Gage piloted the ship so swiftly toward the ground that her guards didn’t notice the cruiser until it hovered above the landing pad. Then they came scrambling out of the station like ants under attack. As soon as Gage touched down and shut off the engines, Cassia used the external speaker to tell the surrounding troops to back away from the ramp.
“Lower your weapons,” she called. “Your queen has returned.”
She descended the ramp expecting to find General Jordan standing among his fellow officers, but he wasn’t there. His second-in-command greeted her instead. The man didn’t know where Jordan had gone, but his trembling hands, combined with the glistening of sweat on his forehead, told her Gage had just gotten his first patient. She ordered the officer to escort Gage to the lab, and then she strode inside the security station, where she stopped at Jordan’s desk.
His chair looked odd without him in it. He’d sat there during so many of their talks that it almost seemed like a part of him. She picked up his data tablet and switched it on. They’d discussed arranging a meeting with the other noble houses to form an alliance against Marius, and she wanted to see if he’d made any notes. She scrolled through the recent entries until she read something that caught her eye. Jordan had already met with the heads of those houses—a week ago. Each family had agreed to fight against Marius on the condition that Cassia reinstated their lands and titles after her husband was executed.
Jordan had declined on her behalf. Without asking her.
Before she could stop it, Renny’s warning echoed inside her head. He’s in a perfect position to stage a military coup. It happens all the time.
“No,” she whispered. That didn’t make sense. Aside from the fact that she trusted Jordan, he was the one who’d put her on the throne to begin with. They were on the same team, and to prove it, she reached for her wrist to summon him.
Her fingers touched bare skin, reminding her that she’d left her bracelet on the ship. She jogged outside to the cruiser and made her way to the master quarters. As soon as she rolled the tension out of her neck, she sat on the edge of her bed and tapped her wristband.
Jordan accepted after the third ping instead of the first, but she tried not to let that worry her. He was probably in public and needed to find a quiet place to talk. Once his hologram appeared and their eyes met, his whole face lit up with joy. She let go of the breath she’d been holding. She never should’ve doubted him.
/>
“This is a nice surprise,” he said. He stood in front of a faded cream-colored wall that seemed to be part of a home, an old one judging by the scuff marks on the paint. “Are you all right? I didn’t think we had a call scheduled today.”
“We didn’t. I’m touching base to see if there’s anything new to report.”
He peered around her, observing her surroundings inside the ship. He must have assumed she was still traveling. “How soon will you be here?”
“Oh, I’m al—” She cut short. “Almost on the ground. We should land in about five minutes.” She didn’t know what had prompted her to lie. Maybe it was because he hadn’t mentioned the alliance meeting. Or maybe it had something to do with the niggling familiarity of the wall behind him. She could swear she’d seen it before. “Where are you?”
He scratched his chin and flicked his gaze to the side. “Just checking in on the families of the men we lost on New Haven. I’ll wrap up soon and head back to the station.”
Cassia felt a pinch in her chest. He was lying. “Good. Meet me in the cell block. I want to see for myself how Marius escaped.”
“Be there in a few,” he said, and disconnected.
Once his image vanished, she slouched over and rubbed her forehead while her heart sent a surge of panic through her veins. She didn’t know what Jordan’s intentions were, but regardless, Renny had been right. Jordan could dethrone her before lunchtime if he wanted to.
She bit the inside of her cheek and wondered what to do. She’d sacrificed so much for this colony—her family, her heart, even her best friend—and she refused to let it go without a fight. She had a few minutes to figure out a strategy and take back what belonged to her.
She was waiting for her general when he walked into the security station.
If he had seemed glad to see her before, it was nothing compared to the brightness in his gaze as he locked eyes with her and crossed the floor in strides so long they threatened to split his pants. She stood at the doorway leading to the jail cells, leaning a shoulder against the wall and smiling at him. When he reached her, he guided her backward a few steps, out of sight of the lobby and offices. Then he scooped her into his arms in a hug that lifted both her boots off the floor.
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