What did this mean? Had the Cava05 betrayed them? Worse still, had the Aegisi Navy betrayed them? Why weren’t Tilder and Shaw out here? Michael wondered if he and Emilia could reach the lower platform and get to the sentinel. It didn’t seem likely from their current position. This whole situation seemed stage-managed down to the last detail.
“I’ve come a long way to meet you,” Fashon Le Sondre said to Emilia with a childlike smile. There was something disturbingly unhinged about him. His eyes seemed to bore through Emilia’s skin, poking around for something to play with.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Emilia said, shifting uncomfortably.
“What do you want?” Michael demanded, standing in front of his sister. His intense gaze broken, Fashon was forced to regard Michael for the first time. A wave of terror swept through the forager, threatening to spill over and reduce his mind to rubble.
“We’re practically brothers,” Fashon said with bright eyes. “I’ve watched you sleep, I’ve watched you rise, I’ve watched you live.”
Michael was consumed with dread and couldn’t say anything. He felt like a fool, stripped to the bone by a man using only his words. But that was what the Nostroma did. Their major weapons were neural. The correct term for these people was cybomancer. The blue halo around Fashon’s eyes and his scorched, scabby skin were both telltale signs of frisson abuse. Whatever psi abilities this Nostroma had, they would be greatly enhanced through abusing the drug. This was but one of the reasons why the Nostroma often looked like decrepit junkies.
Michael grimaced when Emilia appeared by his side, exposed once again to these filthy men.
“I take it you’ve spent time on Solitude?” she asked in a voice that almost sounded calm, but not quite.
Fashon looked at his stern brother. “We got a bright one here,” he stuttered, wiping at the spittle around his mouth. “A real bright one, Jake.”
The taller man said nothing.
“I have been to Solitude,” said Fashon cryptically. “That’s where I met you, silly.”
Fashon laughed like a little girl. Michael flinched from it, as if he’d been slapped in the face. He felt as though he wouldn’t survive another minute with this man. It was a crippling feeling of doom.
He found himself yearning for the simplicity of the Cavan office behind him. The urbane affability of Yashom15. Anything but the horrific double act before him.
“You know me,” Emilia said slowly, her face pale. “You’ve known me for a long time.”
“Yes,” Fashon tittered, “Yes.”
“An ambassador for the Nostroma?” Emilia asked.
“Oh, not quite,” Fashon purred. “I don’t think your Round Table would ever commit to something so… ‘official’. Not where we are concerned.”
Michael fought to stifle the urge to vomit. His body was roiling with a dark tide.
“What does this mean, Em?” he asked helplessly, rooted to the spot.
“It means this is personal,” Emilia said absently. “Fashon wanted to see me, so the Cava05 arranged it under the pretense of negotiation.”
Fashon began clapping, his fingers bent and disfigured. “Oh, I know how to choose them, Jake! This one could be the best yet.”
Michael’s mind was a mess of delirious calculations. “Wait,” he stammered. “What does the Cava05 get out of this?”
Fashon didn’t bother looking at Michael as he replied. “The Cava05 roll on like clockwork,” he muttered. “That’s what they do best. My brother and I will take you somewhere… private. To do what we do best.”
“Lead the way,” Emilia said in a flat voice, looking directly at Michael. She probably wanted a little respite from Fashon’s gaze. Michael stepped forward and held her in his arms.
“Do what you will,” he said through gritted teeth. “But we go together or we don’t go at all.”
Fashon laughed again, each musical note a dagger through Michael’s brain. “But of course,” he said. “I’d hate to offend our guests of honor.”
The way Fashon looked at Emilia made Michael’s skin crawl. The disgusting man gestured to the scout ship behind him.
“It isn’t much,” he said with a gap-toothed smile. “But I don’t think those huge mechs will worry about us.”
Fashon laughed and slapped Jake on the shoulder. The taller Nostroma waited for the Danner siblings to start moving before following behind. Michael was immensely relieved to see that he would be sitting with Emilia in the back seat. He strapped himself in, his gaze never leaving his sister. She looked extremely tired after their brief exchange with the Nostroma. Michael hated to think what awaited them on the other end of their flight.
As Jake assumed control of the craft and initiated a launch sequence, Michael felt an intense anger rising in him.
The Aegisi Round Table, supposedly the apex of integrity and wisdom, had played the Danner siblings for fools. Worse still, they’d sold two of their own to a pair of depraved Nostroma. It didn’t really matter what the Aegisi had received in return. The symbolism of the trade was everything. What kind of regime had the Aegisi become? Michael tried hard to suppress his rage - it wouldn’t help him right now.
10
The interior of the Nostroma scout smelled foul. A combination of frisson aftercharge and tobacco smoke had permeated into the seat lining. A lit arello was dangling from the corner of Jake’s mouth as he eased the scout into a southwest course.
Michael looked forlornly at the sentinel that still sat on the smaller shoulder platform. He ran though the things he might say to Captain Tilder if he ever saw him again. The tower mech on the southern edge of the desal plant glinted in the harsh afternoon sunlight. Michael could’ve sworn its enormous head tracked the scout’s movement.
Feeling somewhat helpless, the forager itched to ask where they were headed, but dreaded interacting with these aliens. The very concept made him weak at the knees.
In all his years of Instruction he’d believed that the Nostroma, or “mind hunters”, were probably the weakest of the big four species. How wrong he was. He could picture these two brothers sending entire battalions into a collective maelstrom of fear. The wider military strategy of the species was cryptic at best, but Michael pledged never to underestimate them again.
A long hour passed as the scout thrummed its way across the endless Southern Ocean. Michael occasionally saw a large dark shape in the water but was too dispirited to pay much attention. He held Emilia’s hand, desperate for a little solidarity in the face of such strangely threatening adversaries.
Thankfully the Le Sondre brothers seemed content to travel in silence. At length a chain of islands appeared far below them, hazy in the thick, spray-laden atmosphere.
Michael was surprised to see buildings amongst the trees. He’d figured the Cava05 were the only sentient beings on the planet, and they had presumably withdrawn most, if not all, their people.
A larger island slid past and Jake banked the scout into a steep turn. There was a settlement on this island, a cluster of old stucco buildings erected on cleared jungle terrain. The centerpiece of the settlement was a sprawling villa, crumbling but still functional by the look of it.
“Villa Seresa,” Fashon crowed as the scout lined itself up against a landing pad on the villa grounds. Michael felt that familiar nausea rise now that Fashon had spoken again.
The scout was close enough to the ground for some of the inhabitants to be visible. Michael was surprised to see humans going about their business. Maybe they settled the island sometime after the Yeneri demise. Though they were now officially a subjugated race and of no consequence to the game of planets being played all around them, humans were remarkably resilient and enterprising creatures. It was a surprise but certainly no shock to see them making some kind of life for themselves on Cerulean.
The Nostroma scout touched down on the platform amid a swirl of sand. The Le Sondre brothers stepped out first, waiting patiently for the Danners. Michael and Emilia took a mo
ment to find their land legs and were soon following the aliens through a lazy, swaying copse of tropical jacaranda. Insect chirp wafted across them in waves. Michael refused to let go of his sister’s hand as they made their way through the village.
Humans regarded them with interest as they tended to fishing nets and tinkered with tech parts. A pair of Aegisi was a rare sight in these parts. The villagers gave the Nostroma a wide berth, avoiding eye contact at every opportunity. It was useful to know that the aliens weren’t well liked. Something he could potentially use to his advantage.
The Le Sondre brothers ambled into the villa’s ramshackle courtyard as if they didn’t have a care in the world. A large four-legged creature bounded toward the Nostroma but didn’t quite reach them due to the chain around its neck. Its furless body rippled with muscle. Michael figured it was some kind of wolf.
“Steady, Chavas, steady,” Jake said softly, scruffling the beast under the chin. “I told you we’d have visitors today.”
It was the first time Jake Le Sondre had spoken. His voice, a gritty baritone, was much lower than his brother’s and had a strange musical quality.
Fashon tried to kick the beast as he walked past.
“I told you to get rid of that thing,” he scowled.
“I like him,” Jake said. “And he likes me.”
“You gotta stop playing cards with the humans, Jake,” Fashon said with a ghastly smile. “What else are we gonna end up with?”
Ignoring his brother, the taller brother spoke quietly to the beast.
“Put the boy in the doghouse instead,” Fashon muttered, ushering Emilia up a flight of concrete stairs to the entrance landing.
“What about Chavas?” Jake asked.
“I told you, get rid of it!” Fashon spat.
Before Michael could get to Emilia, the tall Nostroma had locked eyes on him. There was something in that gaze that held the forager to the spot. Nothing as terrifying as the aura that surrounded Fashon, but immensely strong nonetheless.
“Looks like you’ve been given the kennel, kid,” Jake drawled, slapping Michael on the back. The forager had no choice but to fall in alongside the alien. The Nostroma was clearly far bigger and stronger. Besides, those pistols on his hips looked seriously lethal.
The pair stopped outside a large kennel. The interior was shady but strewn with chunks of raw meat and dried feces.
“Still training the fucker,” the Nostroma said. Michael supposed that was some kind of apology, but the state of the kennel was the least of his worries.
“What will happen to my sister?” he asked urgently. Fashon and Emilia would already be inside the villa. Alone.
Jake paused and stretched his back. He really wasn’t half as horrific as his brother. Without the frisson residue around his nostrils or the general stink of sweat and grime about him, this one might even have been vaguely good-looking.
“What the hell do I know, I’m just the Minor,” the Nostroma eventually said.
“The Minor?” Michael repeated. “What are you talking about? You can’t just leave me here.”
Jake looked Michael in the eye and saw the tears welling there. The Nostroma’s gaze was flint hard.
“Get some sleep, kid,” he growled. “This thing won’t happen quickly.”
“What thing?” Michael asked weakly as Jake sauntered away. “I’m telling you, you can’t do this. Let me inside!”
Michael made to follow Jake but the beast Chavas growled at him from under a jacaranda tree. Michael had seen plenty of animals in his time and knew this one was about to pounce. He didn’t like his chances if Chavas tried to maul him, and he doubted the Le Sondre brothers would lift a finger if he was. Emilia had been the target and now she was holed up with a complete monster.
The sun beating hard on his face and neck, Michael reluctantly withdrew to the shaded grass by the kennel. It made sense to conserve his energy and assess the lay of the land. He slumped against the side of the villa and was sorely tempted to drink the rank water from the bowl by the kennel. In the end thirst got the better of him and he forced some of it down. No more than five minutes had passed before he was vomiting into the lush grass.
There was also the matter of personal hygiene. Michael relieved himself in the trees as the sun hung low over the horizon. Thankfully the villa was surrounded by dense vegetation and there was little chance of a villager spotting him. Michael had taken care of one need but before long he would need a latrine of some kind.
As dusk fell and the steady chirp of insects grew even louder, Michael huddled in the kennel and turned his mind to how desperate his situation had become.
It was quite surreal to be here, on an island in the middle of Cerulean’s Southern Ocean. Just that morning he’d come out of drift space and had high hopes that their mission would be swift and successful. He’d even dared to dream that Captain Tilder would fall head over heels for his new armor and draft him on the spot.
And now? Now his life compass had been utterly smashed. He no longer knew where he was in relation to the rest of the galaxy. He was an Aegisi, born and bred, and yet his own people had tossed him aside like garbage. How was he supposed to feel about his kin? How would other Aegisi feel if they found out that they were dispensable? That the Round Table would do anything it took to further their own militaristic agenda?
Michael felt so completely crushed he found it extremely hard to stay put in the kennel. The sounds of the jungle oppressed him so severely he came within a hair’s breadth of sacrificing himself to the hairless wolf Chavas. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that Emilia was somewhere above him with a pair of murderous Nostroma. Emilia had suddenly become the only thing in the galaxy he could understand.
As all manner of small critters began crawling inquisitively through the enclosed kennel space, Michael pledged that he would force the issue of Emilia’s release the next day. One way or another, he would end her captivity. The resolution at least gave him something tangible to hold on to, and eventually he slipped into a fitful sleep.
11
The jungle was quiet at dawn, and it was this pensive silence that ultimately woke Michael from his troubled dreams. Jake must have visited sometime during the night, because there was a package wrapped in foil alongside an unopened beverage. Unspeakably thirsty, Michael drank freely.
After a few seconds he spat it all out. Alcohol of some kind. Shaking his head with fury, Michael tried the foil package. This turned out to be some kind of roasted meat. A little on the tough side, but edible. Michael felt some of his brain power returning as his blood sugar stabilized.
It was time to investigate the villa if he was able to. Chavas was asleep under the jacaranda tree. Determined to see Emilia, Michael strode confidently across the grass and made it to the front staircase.
The interior of the villa was cool and airy at this early hour. A central hallway admitted to a series of high-ceilinged rooms. The building might have once belonged to a fishing baron or a local warlord. The first two rooms were filled with junk and had the whiff of expended frisson. Fighting the urge to retch, Michael continued quietly down the hallway.
The second room on the right contained a soiled bed with two figures sprawled across it. Fashon Le Sondre was closest to the door, his bloated face petrified with drug-fueled sleep. Michael felt a hammer blow to his heart when he saw Emilia lying next to him. He pulled away the quilt and was relieved to find she wasn’t naked, but she was just in her underclothes. Her sky blue skin looked far too fragile for this place.
Fighting back tears, Michael gently shook his sister’s shoulder. She stirred groggily, her eyes unable to focus on him properly.
“Michael…?”
With a sinking feeling he noticed the faint halo of blue around her eyes. Frisson. The forager looked at Fashon and considered throttling the Nostroma on the spot.
“Let’s go outside,” Emilia said quickly, recovering some of her wits.
“I’ll kill him,”
Michael fumed.
“No you won’t.”
It was Jake’s voice from one of the other rooms. That multi-layered baritone stopped Michael in his tracks and he allowed Emilia to drag him away.
She blinked in the weak light as she sat on the front steps before him. At least she’d had the sense to wrap a sheet around her shoulders. Michael wanted to take her to the Nostroma ship and fly away. If only he could be certain the thing would accept his DNA signature. He must have looked miserable because the next thing he knew Emilia was caressing his cheek sadly.
“Did he bed you?” Michael asked.
“We started by talking,” Emilia said hesitantly. “Fashon wanted to know about my life. About Solitude.”
“And you told him?”
Emilia looked haunted, as if her inner self had been invaded by a parasite.
“I didn’t so much as tell him,” she said absently. “He had a way of drawing the words from my mouth.”
The whole concept seemed hideous to Michael.
“He seems infatuated with you,” he said quietly.
Emilia simply nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek.
“The night was a blur,” she said. “He gave me frisson, I think.”
“He did,” Michael confirmed, taking her hand. “Whatever you did last night, it wasn’t your fault.”
That was too much for Emilia, who stood and threw herself into Michael’s arms. Her hair usually smelled earthy and wholesome, but right then it reeked of alien miasma.
“I’m sorry, Mikey,” she said through a torrent of sobs. “I’ve let us both down.”
“Bullshit,” Michael said, more forcefully than he’d intended. “These guys are fucking animals and I’m gonna kill them.”
“You can’t,” Emilia said miserably. “Their mission is too important.”
“Mission?” Michael repeated. “What mission?”
“Hmmm…” came a familiar baritone. It was Jake, standing in the villa doorway, scratching his groin as if he had fleas. For all Michael knew, he probably did. The taller Le Sondre was fully kitted out in his emerald trench coat even though the sun was already quite warm.
The Blue Corsair (Five Empires Book 1) Page 7
