by Carysa Locke
It would be the simplest explanation for how he felt. For the fact that he felt anything at all. No queen should have a Killer for a consort. He knew this to his bones, and yet he’d been powerless to resist temptation. A first for him.
Sex was just sex. The physical needs of the body being met. At least, it always had been, before. This time felt different. The connection between them was stronger now, and he found himself thinking things he never had. Imagining a future that had never before been a possibility.
But he couldn’t shake the thought of what a queen could do with a man like him. The lives she could destroy. Taking lives was not something he lost sleep over, but Reaper had no desire to be an instrument of punishment or a tool to harm the future of his people.
Mercy isn’t like that. The voice whispering in his mind was his own. He scowled. I can’t be sure. She’s a queen. When she comes to understand her power, anything could happen.
You know her better than that. This time, the voice was definitely not his. He glanced over at Sanah, belted into a jumpseat a few spaces down. She was watching him with a knowing look. Mercy cares for you. She would never abuse her abilities to hurt you.
Hurting me isn’t what I’m concerned about.
Isn’t it?
“Boss, you okay?”
Reaper glanced over at Mateo, realizing that either some of his thoughts had leaked through his shields, or the scowl on his face was dark enough to warrant comment. He pushed aside his concerns. There was no place for them here.
“Fine.” He glanced again at Sanah. Leave it alone.
Her lips thinned as she pressed them into an unhappy line, but she didn't argue with him. Instead, she turned her attention back to whatever conversation she and Doc had been engaged in. Something tedious and scientific that Reaper had been ignoring for most of the trip.
Coming out of the final jump. Titus’ voice came just as the stars solidified around them and the ship dropped from otherspace. A welcome chill washed through Reaper, numbing all other emotion. He could see a hunk of metal marring the endless black of space outside the viewport.
Get us closer, he told Titus.
On it, boss.
Reaper felt an odd sense of déjà vu as Titus brought the corvette near the huge frigate. It looked nothing like the space station where they’d recovered Mercy, and there were no signs of life to be felt or seen from the vessel, dead and adrift in space. A Nova-class research frigate, it bore no obvious damage. Nor did he feel the buzz of distant minds. It was, to all appearances, lifeless. So how had it come to be here?
He couldn't shake the sense that somehow, there was a connection.
A Killer’s Talent was part of the cognition family of gifts, a kind of prescience that showed him the possibilities of how to kill at any given moment. He’d occasionally experienced other forms of precognition. Rare glimpses of future possibilities that manifested more as feelings than anything more direct. He’d learned to listen to them.
He looked over at his dogs. Titus was in the cockpit, but Zion, Mateo, and Knox waited in the crew compartment. Mateo slouched in one of the jumpseats, his feet stretched across the aisle and propped in the seat across the way. Zion stood beside him, arms crossed. Knox was fiddling with one of his toys. He’d spent the trip prepping several small explosive packets, “just in case”.
“Be ready.” Reaper nodded to Mateo and Zion. Zion looked down at the other man, his trademark grin in place. He clapped a hand on his shoulder. No doubt he was relieved to be duplicating Mateo’s Talent this time out instead of becoming a Killer.
Mason. Reaper reached out to the man commanding Revenant, a cruiser with more guns and a much bigger crew. It had made the jump with them, and come out of otherspace beside them. Mason and his people handled salvage for the pirates. By rights, this was his territory and Reaper was the interloper. But no one refused an order from the King. Still, Mason had made it clear he wasn’t pleased with the inclusion of Reaper and his dogs.
What do you want, Reaper?
Because he was aware of the other man’s resentment, Reaper chose his words carefully. Ghost should scout the vessel before you board.
You’re here because Cannon ordered it, but I’m in charge. Your dogs don’t have my crews’ experience with salvage.
No. But I don’t believe this is just any dead vessel.
I’m aware of Cannon’s concerns. Mason’s irritation made the words clipped. And it isn’t anything we don’t deal with every fucking day. You do realize that each ship we salvage carries the same risks? When Reaper didn’t reply, he continued. Besides, we aren’t picking up any signs of life. Not with our instruments, and not with Talent. There’s no one over there to kill, so what use are you?
Reaper didn’t negotiate or play politics. He was a Core member because he chose to be, and he had the strength and power to hold the position. So did Mason, and apparently he found Reaper’s presence a threat to that. It was clear Mason wasn’t inclined to listen to him, so he saw no point in continuing the discussion.
You will do as you must.
What the hell does that mean?
Reaper pushed his shields to shut the other man out. Mason was a powerful telepath, but he didn’t rival Treon’s strength. And blocking Treon had been a game for all of Reaper’s life.
He looked at Mateo. “Go.”
The other man nodded, his dark eyes serious. Reaper had allowed the conversation to take place openly, so everyone heard it. He didn’t need to explain that right now, Mason was launching a shuttle with a boarding team toward the derelict.
But no shuttle could move as quickly as Ghost. Or two Ghosts, since now two spectral duplicates of Zion and Mateo stood side by side. A moment later, they vanished through the hull of the ship, moving towards the derelict. Reaper could have mentally ventured onto the ship himself, but what Ghost’s Talent did was different. It allowed him to literally project himself aboard the vessel. He would be able to move and act as if physically there, with all his senses engaged, not just his mind.
“Titus, what have you found?” Reaper had asked his pilot to dig up whatever he could on the Kynerath Corporation, the company which owned the dead ship.
Lots of public information, boss. They’re a big time research company in the fields of cloning and new-growth organs and limbs. Word has it they’re experimenting with some new anti-aging tech.
Such as?
They want to grow clones and freeze them in stasis. Something about transplanting consciousness from the original body to the clone’s. There’s a whole spiel on the net designed to get them investors. I guess a hundred and fifty years isn’t enough.
It was how long the wealthy could extend their lives through organ transplant and the expensive anti-aging treatments that kept the body youthful. Unfortunately, even those could only be effective for so long.
All of that meant it was very likely this vessel had expensive equipment on board. Cloning equipment that was difficult to procure, and might prove invaluable to the population research Sanah and Doc were doing.
“Kynerath Corp.” Doc’s mouth twisted into a frown as he said the words. He stood from his seat, peering out the viewport to stare at the slowly drifting ship. “I’ve been trying to get someone inside one of their research facilities for years, but they have more security than a military base.” He gave Reaper a knowing look. “Quite the lucky coincidence that one of their research ships should find its way out here to the fringes.”
Exactly.
“I don’t believe in coincidence or luck.” Doc said this stiffly, as though expecting an argument.
Reaper gave him a long look. “Neither do I.”
Both of them watched as Mason’s shuttle launched from Revenant, making its way across to the derelict.
“Damashimasu,” Doc whispered. “Too many of the Core are threatened by what you are. They fail to listen to what you say, too caught up in what you can do.”
“Mason is no fool.”
&nbs
p; “He is right now.” Doc wore a flat, serious expression on his best days. Today was worse. “If you think it will get better once they realize the new queen is choosing you as her first consort, you would be wrong.” Something moved through his eyes. An emotion Reaper couldn’t hope to identify. “Be very careful, Nikolos.”
“No one has said Mercy is choosing me to be her anything.”
Doc snapped a glare his way. “I have eyes, don’t I? Ears to listen with?” He gestured back to where Sanah sat. She’d been giving them space, quietly speaking with Knox. “I may not be an empath, but I am quite observant.”
Reaper didn’t know what to say to that. He considered and discarded several options he might have used with anyone else. But it wasn’t wise to make an enemy of the man most likely to treat him if he were injured. Silence was best.
They watched as Mason’s shuttle formed a seal with the ship’s airlock.
“She could do worse,” Doc said grudgingly.
“Ghost, update,” Reaper said, ignoring him.
“It’s all quiet, boss.” Ghost spoke aloud from behind him. His eyes were closed as he reported back what his projected self observed. “No bodies so far. The ship does have power, but only to emergency systems. Basic life support, evac pods, and the infirmary. Pods are all accounted for, so no one left the ship that way. Everything else is down. No propulsion.”
“Down why?”
“Not sure. Zion’s trying to access logs now.”
By now Mason’s men would be boarding the ship.
“You are about to have company.”
“Copy.”
Reaper frowned. The feeling that something was wrong intensified. It was premature of Mason to have boarded the vessel before they had confirmation of exactly what they would be walking into. Why was the ship without power? Where was the crew?
“Ghost, check the labs.”
“I’m there now. No power.”
Moving around Ghost and Zion carefully, Sanah came to stand beside Doc. “No power to the labs could be dangerous,” she said in a low voice. “Some things need to be kept in stasis for the safety of anyone working with them.”
Before Reaper could pass this on to Ghost, his dog spoke again. “Nothing here, boss. I mean nothing. It looks like this place has never been used. Just a bunch of brand new equipment and empty shelves. It’s creepy.”
“I’ve accessed the logbooks,” Zion said. “According to this, they were on their way from Charon to Ocium.”
That made no sense. Uneasy, Reaper tried to remember the last time he’d looked at a Commonwealth star chart. “Ocium is in the Trillium Cluster, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Doc agreed.
On the far side of the Commonwealth. As far in the opposite direction as it was possible to get. There was no reason for this ship to be here. None at all, except to lure the pirates to it. How it had come to be here and why it didn’t have power, propulsion, or a crew became irrelevant.
Reaper reached out to Mason.
Get your people out. He was expecting an argument, but Mason took a long time to answer.
I can’t raise them. Not with comms or Talent. What the hell is going on?
I don’t know. Nothing good. Reaper looked back at Ghost and Zion. “Mason’s lost contact with his people. Find them.”
When neither man responded, Reaper turned and walked to them. “Zion. Mateo.”
Both men stood still and silent, eyes closed. If not for the fact that they were standing, they might have been sleeping peacefully. He brushed against their minds and felt…nothing. It was as if they were empty shells.
“Doc.”
The doctor was already moving, pulling a portable scanner from his pocket.
“What’s happening?” Sanah asked.
“Do you feel anything from either of them?” Emotions weren’t the same as thoughts. Maybe an empath would pick up something he couldn’t.
“Conflict.” Sanah looked at Reaper. “I feel a sense of peace from both of them, but also fear. It doesn’t make sense.”
“None of this makes sense.”
“Physically, they’re fine.” Doc studied the results of his scan. “Slightly elevated blood pressure and heart rate, but that could be a physical response to the strain of using Mateo’s Talent. I’ve never scanned him before while he’s used it.”
Reaper. Reaper didn’t need Sanah’s empathy to hear the anger in Mason’s voice. What is on that ship?
I don’t know, but I am going to find out. Can your AI disengage that shuttle from the airlock? Ships as large as Revenant almost always employed an AI to manage and connect ship systems. Usually they could maintain remote control of shuttles and dropships in emergency situations.
Yes. What do you want me to do?
There’s only one airlock, and I need it. Reaper gripped Sanah’s arm. “You and Doc stay here and monitor them.”
She searched his face. “You’re going over there? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“It’s why I’m here. Very little in this universe can truly threaten a Killer.” He glanced at Knox. “If you lose contact with me for longer than a few minutes, get everyone out of here.”
As he’d expected, his dog wasn’t happy with this order. “Boss, you can’t go over there alone. Let me go with you. Titus can stay here.”
You are both staying here. Reaper took a moment to make sure his words were on a tight thread, just between him and Knox. My brother’s wife is here. I will not leave her unprotected. Titus is piloting the ship. You will guard Sanah, Doc, and the others.
Boss…
Reaper didn’t bother responding. Titus, get the dropship prepped.
He wasn’t going to risk everyone on board by connecting the corvette directly to the derelict. A Viking dropship was connected to the ship’s undercarriage for planetfall when the corvette remained in orbit. It would work just as well as a shuttle.
“Nik,” Sanah said softly. “Be careful.”
He spared her a glance. “I’m getting our people back.
Chapter Twenty-Four
By the time the dropship docked with the derelict, any feelings of worry Reaper had over his dogs or Sanah were distant, meaningless emotion. It was comfortable, being the unfeeling Killer. Far preferable to experiencing emotions he had no idea how to process. Cannon would probably have some typically annoying observation about that, but fortunately the king was not here.
He pushed ahead with his mind, mentally searching the ship. He found no trace of his dogs, or Mason’s men. It was as though they’d ceased to exist. Like the crew that had so mysteriously disappeared. Reaper no longer believed that. Someone, or something, was aboard this vessel.
As with the space station weeks ago, surprise was not on his side. There was no way to quietly dock with the ship, to wait for the airlock to pressurize. He half expected something to happen when he boarded, but nothing did. Stepping out of the airlock, it looked exactly like the dead ship it pretended to be. The barest hint of light reflected from the ceiling, a permanent, natural illumination built into the nano-graph of the structure. Reaper passed his hand over one wall to be sure, but no map lit up beneath the touch. Power was still off. But the air remained breathable, circulating through filters. The temperature, while low, was warm enough to support life. Gravity was working.
Convenient for whoever was here.
Reaper didn’t plan to search deck by deck and room by room. He made his way directly to the command deck. He was done with games. With no engines or propulsion, the stabilizers also appeared to be out, which meant the ship tilted at an awkward slant. It wouldn’t have been a problem without the gravity generators, but it made for a challenge with them. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, but in a fight it would add a challenging environmental element.
The command deck was empty. He could see both his corvette and Revenant through the viewport, reminding him to send Knox and Titus an update as he looked over the frigate’s controls. He’d never been
aboard a Nova-class ship before, but it wasn’t too difficult to find the basics.
He sent a quick mental probe out, but still found nothing. No sign of either his men or Mason’s. There was one entrance to the command deck, and an emergency hatch. He sealed it with a portable gravitational generator exactly like the one that had held Mercy captive when he’d found her. With only one way in or out, he triggered the ship’s start up sequence. It didn’t surprise him at all when it actually worked.
The engines spooling up made the deck vibrate beneath his feet. Basic propulsion came back online, and the ship righted itself, a dizzying tilt that put everything back as it should be.
It wouldn’t be long now. Reaper stood in the center of the room, and waited.
He felt her before he saw her. He knew it would be someone powerful, perhaps even as powerful as Treon, to pull off such a large scale mental illusion. Making a ship of this size appear empty when it wasn’t, both physically and mentally, was no small trick. He let the ice take him until his inner self reflected the cold vacuum of space. So deeply into the Killer that not even surprise registered when the hatch opened, and a small figure stepped through. A girl.
She wore a basic flight suit, the kind that could offer a short period of protection if a pilot ended up adrift in space without power. But no helmet covered her head, and her face was young. Reaper placed her at barely fifteen. Perhaps even younger. Curiosity filled her face as she eased into the room, enhancing the child-like impression.
Watching the girl approach, Reaper was struck by two things. One, how closely she resembled Mercy. The bone structure, bronze skin, dark hair and green eyes were a striking and familiar combination. Two, the power that exuded from her was so strong it washed heat through him, chasing away the chill that was as much a part of him as breathing. He felt it leech away, was powerless to stop it. The harder he tried, the faster it seemed to leave him.
For the first time in his life, he could not call upon his Talent. He couldn’t see how to kill her. He realized he didn’t want to kill her. He felt an instant desire to please her. If she didn’t desire him to kill, he wouldn’t. It was that simple.
