Shattered Silence

by Anna Carven

  Shit.

  They needed to get out of here soon. He hated to admit it, but the sheer effort of trying to divide his attention between his enemies and Layla while trying to suppress the Tharian… it was becoming taxing.

  Sooner or later, he feared he would slip up and make a mistake that might prove fatal—for Layla.

  He could not lose her now. Not after she’d survived so much. Not after he’d discovered her grace, her bravery, her subtle humor.

  She was the reason Enki and his brothers had a purpose in this post-Imperial Universe. Humans were life, and without them, the Kordolian race was doomed.

  Do not fuck this up, he told himself, summoning his exo-armor beneath the Imperial uniform. This time, he embraced the pain, drawing strength from it. He kept his face exposed, knowing he could draw out his helm in an instant.

  “That way,” he snapped, pointing down the corridor. “Run.”

  Layla didn’t hesitate. She ran. Enki loped after her, matching her pace. At least there was a small amount of light down here, and she didn’t seem to have any trouble finding her way.

  Enki glanced sharply over his shoulder to see a lone soldier dropping through the hole after them, landing on his feet with a thud. The soldier raised his plasma gun…

  “Layla, get down.”

  She didn’t question, didn’t hesitate, just dropped to the floor as Enki spun and fired before the warrior had a chance to shoot, squeezing off three simultaneous plasma blasts.

  The soldier was thrown back along the floor, wisps of smoke rising off his exo-armor. Was he incapacitated? Dead? Enki didn’t really give a shit.

  “Take this,” he said, giving his second gun to Layla. “Can you see the opening from here?”

  “Only just.”

  As if to illustrate Enki’s point, a blast of blue plasma flared through the opening, hitting the spot where they’d been standing only moments ago.

  Hitting the fallen soldier.

  Idiots.

  “Don’t worry. They can’t hit us from here. The angle is too tight. Layla, I’m going to cut through the floor again.” He reached out and placed her finger on the gun’s trigger, removing the safety and raising her arm. “If any of those fools try to come through that hole, I want you to shoot them. Can you do that?”

  “Y-yeah.”

  Enki wanted to explain the rest to her—the recoil, the correct stance, the fact that firing a powerful plasma weapon would probably cause her pain in her injured state—but there was no time.

  He hated the idea of seeing her in pain, but he knew she could handle it.

  Pain wouldn’t kill her, and she was strong; a survivor.

  Enki dropped to his knees again and started to saw through the floor, knowing he could spin around and catch her if she was thrown back.

  Thank the Goddess the floor was not made of pure Callidum, but a weaker composite.

  As he was just about to finish the cut, Layla pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Boom! The noise was deafening. Layla didn’t even know if she’d hit the guy, because her eyes were momentarily blinded by the blue plasma flare.

  A terrible force rocked her body; it felt as if she were being thrown back by a hurricane-level gust of wind. The pain from her broken rib had been reduced to an almost bearable ache, but now it flared back to life, making her scream in agony.

  She didn’t really understand what happened next. All she knew was that Enki’s low growl of frustration reverberated right through her bones. Then his powerful arm was curling around her waist and she was pulled tightly against his hard body. Immovable. That’s what he felt like.

  Then they were falling again, falling, falling, falling…

  Thud!

  They hit the floor below, but Layla didn’t feel much of an impact, because Enki landed on his feet like a cat and absorbed everything. Somehow, she managed to keep hold of the gun, and not pull the trigger again, a minor miracle.

  Still, the jolt upset her stupid rib again, and she gasped.

  “Just more level,” Enki whispered. He dropped to his knee again and sawed through the floor, a terrible sense of urgency radiating from him.

  Layla didn’t think she had it in her to fire the plasma gun again. Her arms trembled, and the sharp pain in her ribs was making her vision go dark. Hell; it was dark in here anyway. Only a faint blinking light in the ceiling saved her from total darkness.

  Thank the stars. She didn’t know what she would have done if she couldn’t see Enki. Gone insane, probably.

  But instead, she drew strength from him as she kept her eye on the ceiling above, waiting for a plasma blast or an enemy to come through the hole.

  Enki was relentless, unstoppable, ruthless, always moving forward, never hesitating.

  Doing this for her.

  Shit, a little pain in the ribs was nothing. She would endure for as long as it took.

  “Let’s go.” And then he was grabbing her again, and they were falling, and Layla marveled at the warrior who could cut through the very heart of a Kordolian ship as if it were constructed of nothing more than butter.

  Seriously, who the hell was this guy?

  Or more to the point, what was he?

  Brutally violent yet gentle, seemingly indestructible, and possessed by a mysterious demon that could steal away his consciousness in an instant.

  A man with secrets. With baggage.

  When all this was over, would Layla ever get to discover the man beneath the hard mask, or would they simply part ways again, surrendering to the laws of the Universe?

  Falling…

  And then they landed on the floor with a bone-jarring thud.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Truly, he was tired.

  That never happened. Enki’s body had never ever failed him, but now a deep sense of weariness entered his bones, even as he set Layla on her feet and took stock of their surroundings. Suppressing the Tharian was taking more effort than usual, and he feared he wouldn’t be able to sustain this level of mental control for much longer. Sooner or later, he would need to rest.

  He needed silence, a quiet place where he could just close his eyes and…

  Layla gasped. “Th-this is…”

  “The lower decks,” Enki murmured, forcing himself to concentrate. They’d fallen from a much greater height this time, landing in a vast, cavernous space. All around them were the dark, hulking shapes of Daegan’s spacefleet.

  We’re in the docking bay.

  A great sense of relief flooded him as he realized his calculations had been correct. He bet Daegan and his fucking cronies never expected Enki would literally carve the ship apart. They couldn’t conceive of such a thing, because ordinary soldiers didn’t possess the monstrous strength needed to wield Callidum the way he did.

  From across the way, a group of mech workers stared at them as if Enki and Layla were demons that had crawled out of one of Kaiin’s Nine Hells.

  Enki didn’t waste time. “You. Come here.” He pointed to the head mech, whose rank was indicated by a series of three parallel bars on his collar. Surprisingly, the head mech looked younger than his subordinates.

  “S-sir?” The mech glanced up at the hole in the ceiling, his eyes wide. His gaze snapped to Layla, before settling on the plasma gun in Enki’s hand. He swallowed. “We are not authorized to, uh—”

  “You must be incredibly brave,” Enki said softly, and he felt the Tharian stir as his anger uncoiled like an awakening beast, “to have little fear of my gun, even though I am this close to losing my patience. Forget what you are authorized to do, and come here before I melt your fucking face.” It really wasn’t all that hard to behave like an Imperial Kordolian Captain. Enki thought his performance was quite convincing, although he was glad Layla didn’t understand Kordolian.

  He kept his arm around her as the mech approached, just daring the man to say something about his human. Impatience sharpened his anger, and Enki’s old hatred of the noble class
bubbled to the surface.

  He could never forget the destruction the arrogant nobles had wrought on Tharos, could never forget how they left him to deal with the mess as they escaped in their sleek ships, not giving a second thought to the fate of his support crew—the ordinary soldiers of the Twelfth.

  They were all dead now.

  The rage invaded Enki’s consciousness like a spreading disease, momentarily stripping him of rational thought. Sometimes this happened; this feeling where he wanted vengeance above all else, where the faces in front of him became pale shadows of the very faces he wanted to destroy.

  If not for Layla, he would have fought his way up to the Bridge to find Daegan and Luron Alerak and the rest of the Ristval V’s inner circle.

  He would have slaughtered them all.

  Yes. The Tharian particularly liked that idea.

  “Enki,” Layla’s breathless whisper broke him out of his blood-soaked fantasy, and he remembered the General’s orders.

  Your first priority is to retrieve the human.

  He needed those orders. Without them, he was little more than a savage.

  Reminded of his place in the Universe, Enki tightened his grip around Layla’s waist. She didn’t say anything, keeping perfectly still. He could sense her tension; her breathing was shallow and rapid, and her heartbeat hammered frantically inside the delicate cage of her chest. Truly, this ordeal was starting to take its toll on her body.

  So fragile, yet so resilient. For the first time, Enki wondered what had made her this way.

  And why in Kaiin’s Hells had she been all the way out here—so ill-equipped and far away from Earth—in the first place?

  “Which of those stealth flyers is ready?” he asked the mech, who came to a nervous halt in front of Enki. Really, he was little more than a kid, with pale wispy hair and bright, speckled amber eyes that darted all over the place.

  The mech blinked, his brows drawing together in confusion. “Th-they are all ready, Sir.” He kept looking at the Captain’s insignia on Enki’s collar. “Uh, is the huma—”

  “You do not get to even look in her direction. Speak of her again and I will remove your tongue from your mouth. I need a ship, mechanic.”

  Layla raised her eyebrows at his tone.

  Enki spoke in Kordolian, so she wouldn’t have understood the words, but perhaps she’d detected a little bit of the protectiveness he felt toward her right now. He’d snatched her right out of the jaws of Kordolian madness and savagery, and he would do it again and again if he had to.

  She was irreplaceable.

  He understood that now.

  As he realized how close he’d come to losing her—or even worse, to never having her in the first place—a terrible destructive anger rose up within him, and the Tharian threatened to break loose.

  Enki pushed back, as he always did. Truly, this was getting old.

  This is not the time. Be silent.

  It took a great amount of energy for Enki to force his attention back toward the mech. The man managed to look confused and intimidated and skeptical all at the same time. “Sir, the flight schedule for this half-revolution does not indicate any—“

  “Are you seriously questioning me?” Enki took a step forward, looming threateningly over the mech, who shrank back.

  “No, Sir.” He was quick to avert his eyes as his conditioning kicked in. The Empire might have fallen, but these workers were still bound by the rigid training of the Kordolian military machine. Every recruit selected for the military was essentially brainwashed into accepting authority without hesitation, without question, upon penalty of death. A superior could shoot his subordinate in the head for disobedience and get away with it.

  That was the true reason most soldiers never questioned their orders. The hierarchy was absolute, and to die for the Empire was glorious, apparently. “Take us onboard,” Enki snapped, his impatience growing. He wanted to be away from here as soon as possible.

  “N-now, Sir?”

  “I am not here to sightsee, Mechanic.” Enki waved his gun, reminding Kyral that death was a very real possibility.

  Kyral slammed his fist against his chest in a nervous salute and led Enki and Layla toward a nearby cruiser without another word. His crew stood on the sidelines, staring at Enki with barely concealed fear in their eyes. They had no idea what was happening, but they didn’t dare question him, because he was the one holding the gun.

  Layla didn’t say a word either. She just looked up at him with an quizzical expression, her dark eyes missing nothing.

  Reluctantly, Enki released her. “Don’t say anything. Just walk in front of me,” he whispered, keeping a wary eye on the mech. “We’re going to get out of here. That is a promise.”

  Thank the Goddess she trusted him.

  They walked up the boarding ramp, following Kyral.

  “Traitor! Get off my fucking stealth flyer immediately!” A deep voice boomed down from above, making Enki turn. There was General Daegan himself, standing on a high bridge that overlooked the entire docking bay. An entire Division of soldiers surrounded him, their plasma guns raised. “It’s about time I actually killed one of you hell-spawned bastards.”

  Seeing Daegan in the flesh had a strange effect on Enki. The bastard didn’t appear to recognize him at all.

  The anger welling up inside him turned cold, and as Enki stared back at haughty features that were so similar to his own, he knew without a doubt that he would kill this man.

  Righal Daegan the Third, of House Daegan, was the piece-of-shit who had given his son to the secret experimental program on Xar, knowing very well that the boy—barely into adolescence—probably wouldn’t survive.

  Out of thousands, only ten had survived.

  Enki was one of those survivors. The bastard-born son of a noble, turned into a demon-made-flesh.

  Oh, he’d read the file in the datacube Zharek al Sirian had conveniently slipped into his hand. He knew he and Daegan shared blood, and he wanted to wipe out that side of his existence forever.

  Highborn Kordolian scum.

  In that instant, the Tharian’s thoughts became Enki’s own as their consciousnesses merged, and suddenly, they were united by their deep, deep hatred of the noble class, of Daegan, and of the fractured Kordolian Empire. Even in death, the cursed Empire’s destructive influence pervaded every corner of the Nine Galaxies.

  Hatred consumed him like a windstorm in the Vaal, and bit by bit, his control slipped. This was not how a First Division warrior should react, but Enki was too far gone to care. He felt the familiar ripple of the Tharian’s influence as it tried to break free of his mental bonds, as it sang to him of vengeance.

  “Enki…” But Layla was there too, gentle yet insistent, the perfect counterpoint to his cold rage.

  He remembered his duty. His orders. His training.

  And still, he wanted everything at once.

  “Layla, get inside the ship and take cover, now.”

  She didn’t waste time.

  Enki pointed his gun at Daegan and fired, summoning his exo-helm in an instant. The bridge above exploded in a shower of blue plasma fire and sparks.

  Did we get him?

  I never miss.

  Chaos. Shouting. Daegan’s guards—what was left of them—simultaneously raising their guns and firing a volley of plasma back at him.

  Daegan was falling.

  The roar of their guns was deafening. A stream of plasma hit Enki in the chest, and he was thrown back against the boarding ramp. Pain ripped through his body and turned his vision black, but his impenetrable exo-armor had protected him from serious injury.

  Ignoring the pain, he looked up as his vision cleared. He saw perhaps the slightest glimmer of recognition on the Daegan’s face as he fell, but Enki couldn’t be sure, and suddenly there was…

  Chaos. You need to protect her. Move, soldier! Forget him. He is nothing to you.

  Pushing through a haze of agony, he leapt to his feet and darted up the ramp
, diving inside to take cover. The sheer intensity of his pain made him drop to his knees. One plasma blast was bad enough, but multiple…

  He was stuck in his own personal hell.

  Inside the ship, Layla stared at him in shock. She ran to him, dropping to her knees. “Shit, Enki. Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” he grunted, looking across at the navigator. The blue glow of the ship’s sylth washed over him as it registered his presence.

  “Enki, we’ve got company,” Layla yelped, ducking her head behind the protective walls. A torrent of plasma surged through the opening, hitting the opposite side of the cabin. Enki lunged, pushing Layla to the floor as a wave of blistering heat washed over them.

  He turned his body into a shield, covering her face with his hands. “Sylth, close doors,” he commanded, and he immediately heard the doors snap shut.

  To his relief, the heat dissipated.

  “Layla,” he whispered, bringing his hands down to caress her cheeks. Her eyes were squeezed tight, but they flew open at the sound of his voice. “It is all right. You are safe now. Plasma can’t penetrate the walls.”

  She blinked furiously, coughed, and shook her head. The dazed look melted from her features, replaced with an expression Enki had never seen directed at him before.

  Not fear.

  Not hatred.

  Concern.

  Layla wrinkled her nose, sniffing the air. “Me, I’ve just got a few singed ends. Nothing like the smell of fried hair,” she made a face. “But goddamn, Enki. How much of that blue fire can your body take?”

  “Enough,” he grunted, allowing the helm to melt away from his face so he could look directly into her eyes.

  Layla didn’t flinch, nor did she regard him as if he were some sort of abomination, even though she knew nothing about his unique… capabilities. “I promise not to ask until we’re out of danger, but at some point, you’re going to explain all this, right?”

  As Enki stared at her face, he felt the storm of the Universe swirl around them. Outside, soldiers wielding plasma guns approached, and somewhere in Enki’s mind, the Tharian flailed and battered at his defenses, trying to find an opening.