by Vi Voxley
Ashby screamed.
Cora dashed to the roof, her blaster held at the ready. The man was standing next to the corpse, holding on to Ashby, pointing his gun at the priestess. His eyes were burning with loathing.
“Let her go,” Cora said, taking slow, small steps closer. “I have alerted Ambassador Swann’s guards. Unless you want to deal with them, I suggest you do what I say,” she lied.
“I don’t fear death,” the man spat at her.
“No?” Cora asked, coming closer steadily, looking for an opportunity to take the shot she needed. “Good for you. Only I’m quite certain that after I tell Nadar Brenger’s men that you are responsible for the half-breed murders, killing you will be the last thing on the chieftain’s mind. I’m told his warriors can make men who don’t fear death talk their hearts out.”
In truth, Cora wasn’t so certain her threats had any real basis. Everything she said about the chieftain and his warriors was true, but she was a Union officer bound to galactic law. The Union was much more insistent on not torturing people. But words were words, and hers made the man suddenly look like he’d seen a ghost.
“No,” he whispered, backing away from her. “Don’t let them take me to Gomor. Not there.”
“What’s Gomor?” she asked.
To her surprise, both the murderer and Ashby shuddered, hearing that name. There was a crooked smile on the man’s face all at once, but Cora took aim, answering with a grin of her own.
“I might not know what it is,” she said. “But if that’s what you’re afraid of, I’ll be sure to include that in my report.”
“You will not,” the man spat. “The chieftain will never allow his precious secret prison to be brought to light. Especially not now when Condor has escaped.”
What?
Cora thought that her surprise must have reflected on her face, because the man started laughing.
“Yes, Terran,” he said. “Condor is coming for all the half-breeds, and there is nothing you can do about it. I bet you Terrans will be next on the list.”
Cora saw Ashby give her a small signal. A second later, the priestess kicked the man as hard as she could. She was frail for a Corgan, a species that bred warriors who could have passed for tanks, but judging by the inhuman scream she tore from the murderer, she knew where to hurt despite her diminutive size.
His hold on her slipped, and Ashby threw herself on the ground.
Cora’s gun barked a heartbeat later, and the man collapsed, one of his legs a bloody mess. Even the lowest setting of a blaster hurt like a bitch. She rushed closer, but the man raised his gun again.
There was a curious sort of madness in his eyes as he whispered, “I’m not going to Gomor.”
Before she could get close enough to kick the gun from his hand, the man pointed it at Ashby, and Cora’s second shot rang out simultaneously with her cry.
After she’d made the real call to the embassy’s security, Cora judged the scene in front of her. There was a sliver of disappointment in her. She knew the man would have been able to crack open a few more secrets, but Cora supposed she’d gotten all she could expect from a dead man.
She had caught the killer, or at least his accomplice, and saved Ashby. She knew the person who was responsible for all those murders was on the loose. And she had the name of a prison that no one talked about.
Not too bad for a day’s work.
Chapter Three
Cora
Cora quickly learned that some things never changed, no matter where you were.
Back on Terra, when you asked inconvenient questions, you ran headlong into a bureaucratic wall, and the following migraine was the best you could expect.
I had higher hopes for you, Gaiya, Cora thought bitterly.
She was sitting in a dark room, and that was all she knew of her whereabouts. After naming Gomor and asking around about it, she’d been snatched up by Corgan warriors and brought into the room in a very straightforward way.
Cora Frey, the lieutenant of the Union Militant in the Corgan realms, was trying very hard not to lash out at the next person she saw walking through the door. She had every right to investigate crimes on Gaiya, but she hadn’t come by her rank or her position by letting her temper get the better of her.
Being an investigator, a police officer or a forensics expert – she was all of them, depending on who asked and what was needed – in the Corgan realm wasn’t anything like the rest of the galaxy. They worked in their own ways and, in a massive power move, actually made the Union dance to their tune instead of the other way around.
They amused Cora.
That’s why I put up with a lot of their shit, but this is getting ridiculous. I really am going to give the next guy who comes through that door a piece of my mind.
As she waited and minutes went by in her timeless existence, Cora reminded herself that they hadn’t done anything wrong, technically. She hadn’t been harmed, just very rudely invited to god-knows-where and left there. That was pretty typical for Corgans.
She thought of her newest corpse and whether there would still be something left for her to work with once they released her.
Maybe they intended to put her in Gomor for being a dumb-ass who didn’t take the “chieftain’s secret prison” thing as enough of a hint to be a little more subtle.
As she was chiding herself for being so careless, the door opened.
“Hey –” she began, but the words got stuck in her throat.
The man at the door didn’t look like someone you pestered with questions. In fact, he very much looked like a guy who asked what he wanted to know and got truthful answers. Preferably deliver with a “sir” at the end.
As he walked in like he owned the room – which was a possibility – Cora found her eyes glued to him.
He was a Corgan warrior, that much was glaringly obvious even to someone whose job it wasn’t to know the difference. There were many giveaways. For one, he was so tall he had to slightly bow his head to fit under the frame. His mighty, broad shoulders were so wide they brushed against the sides.
Cora’s mind was conjuring up images of the warrior simply knocking the door off the frame if it bothered him, but he didn’t seem to have come with violence on his mind.
As hard that might have been to believe, considering his attire. His armor was dark as the night, looking like reinforced leather, even if Cora knew better. Corgan armors were incredibly light and flexible, even if they looked like the scales of an obsidian dragon. On top of that, there were two thin swords sheathed on the warrior’s back, the signature weapons of their race.
Yet, despite the impressive bulk, his most striking feature was the eyes. Impossibly blue, shining like sapphires, staring right into her soul. Cora thought she’d seen enough of those ghostly glowing blue eyes all the Corgan warriors had to be more than accustomed to them, but this man proved her wrong. She could stare into his for days and probably not quench her curiosity.
The warrior’s short dark hair was messy, falling over his face, but she could still see the piercing gaze observing her with interest.
All that passed through her mind in a second and bypassed every filter to go straight to her pussy.
The warrior scared her despite the fact she’d done nothing wrong, Cora wasn’t going to lie, but he also turned her on and not a little.
She wiggled uncomfortably in her seat, trying to tell her body to behave.
For god’s sake, he’s not that hot. Okay, he is, but that is not a good enough reason to maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds like a deer caught in headlights. Blink, girl. Just blink. He’s a very scary man, stop eye-fucking him.
He seemed to be waiting for something. Cora, for her part, was praying to all the gods and spirits on Gaiya – she’d been told there were many – that he didn’t guess the effect he had on her.
“You were saying, Lieutenant?” the warrior asked, his voice deep and soft like velvet, making Cora bite her tongue not to purr in
response. “I feel like I have to warn you, the last person who hey-ed me found I don’t respond well to threats.”
The situation would have been terrifying if there wasn’t a small smirk playing on his lips. Cora glared. If that guy was her interrogator, he would find that people who usually occupied that position didn’t respond well to being intimidated.
“I wasn’t going to threaten you,” she said, looking right at his shining blue eyes. “I was going to ask you some pretty easy questions. Why am I here? Why are you here? And what gives you the right to keep me wherever the heck this is?”
The warrior regarded her, seemingly not impressed at all. Cora kept waiting for him to sit and join her on the quite comfy seats, but he remained standing like sitting was too much of a luxury. Or perhaps it was to look down at her, although that was unnecessary. He was more than a head taller than her anyway.
When she thought about it, the room she was in didn’t really seem like an interrogation chamber. It reminded her of a common room at a station. There were a few tables and cabinets, some chairs and technological equipment she didn’t know anything about.
“You are in Gomor, let’s start with that,” the warrior said. “Isn’t that what you wanted, Lieutenant?”
Cora was silent for a long moment. For some reason, as soon as he’d spoken the word, her mind conjured up the image of the man on the rooftop. The look in his eyes when he’d thought that was where he was headed. The absolute, mindless horror she’d witnessed.
“No,” she said firmly. “I wanted to know what it was. I don’t remember asking for a sentence or a tour, although I’ll take the latter if you’re offering.”
The warrior laughed. There was a nice quality to it, a warmth she liked, although she also got the sense she was treading a very thin line.
“They described you accurately,” he said, giving her a look that made her tingle from head to toe.
“Who they?” she asked, frowning.
“Not important. But they said you were ferocious, not easily intimidated. Even by me.”
“And?” Cora pressed, seeing there was more.
“And that it all came from a perceived sense of safety.”
As soon as he’d spoken the words, the last syllable still rolling off his tongue, a silence set. It came from him, took ahold of the room like a physical manifestation of his will. The blue eyes that Cora felt herself drowning in were taking her apart now, piece by piece, until she felt as helpless as she truly was.
Then the moment passed, and she was left sitting there, trying to breathe.
“As it happens, you have nothing to fear from me,” the warrior went on. “You are not here as a prisoner, Lieutenant Frey. If you were, things would be very different.”
“Okay,” Cora said slowly. “Can we move on to the why and who then?”
“You know who I am.”
She did.
Cora hadn’t been able to find out much before they took her, but the little had been enough to answer that question. And Brocke’s name was familiar to her from the moment she’d first set foot on Gaiya.
The chieftain’s son. One of the first half-breeds. The most powerful fighter in the entire realm, an estimate no one was keen on testing, making the claim all the plausible. And the most feared man on Gaiya.
His father’s executioner. The guardian of Gomor, Nadar’s secret prison.
Brocke smiled, and Cora was ripped from her thoughts, instantly reminded that she could add “the most gorgeous man alive” to that list.
I’m so fucked. I wonder if he knows how fucked I want to be.
“I see you do,” Brocke said, pacing around the room with slow, almost languid steps. “That will spare us some time. Now that we’ve been introduced, onto the why, as you said. It has come to my attention that we have the same problem.”
Cora stared. The words spilled over her lips without her brain being able to stop them.
“You don’t strike me as the type of a man who has problems.”
Brocke nodded, growing serious.
“Normally, that would be true. Today, my problem is hiding from me. Condor is very good at that.”
“Condor,” Cora repeated, leaning forward on the edge of her seat. “What do you know about him?”
“Everything,” Brocke said, turning to look her straight in the eyes. “And you know everything about his operation, I’m told. You’ve been investigating the half-breed murders, have you not?”
“I have. Last night, there was a guy who said Condor has escaped.”
The look in Brocke’s eyes was nothing short of thunderous as he nailed her to the spot with his fiery gaze.
“He didn’t escape. No one escapes Gomor. I let him get out.”
“Why?” Cora asked, not believing her ears. “Why would you let the man responsible for all that death out of your prison?”
“To catch him. To end this.”
Cora was starting to understand. She slunk back in her seat, looking at the warrior.
“You don’t know where he is,” she said. “You lost him.”
“I did,” Brocke admitted, although the fact didn’t seem to bother him much. “I thought to give him a running start, but he slipped away from me. He has allies, he always does. Now time is of the essence since he knows I’m after him. He knows there will be no prison for him once I find where he hides. Condor will be preparing something big while he has the freedom to do so.”
“I don’t know where he is either,” Cora admitted. “If I did, I’d be knocking on his door right now.”
Brocke’s smile spoke volumes about the kind of methods he would use.
“You know possible allies, their methods, their ways. I know Condor, and I know Gaiya.”
“Are you asking for my help?” Cora heard herself ask.
Yeah, this is how I die, she thought a moment later. The word “help” isn’t even in their vocabulary.
But to her surprise, Brocke only looked at her solemnly.
“I’m ordering you to tell me everything you know,” the warrior said. “You can’t possibly comprehend how much trouble you’re in right now, but the fact you’re sitting here with me should give you a clue. The chieftain doesn’t like questions about Gomor.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Why do you think?” Brocke replied without pause.
Figures. The Union wouldn’t exactly approve.
“So what now?” she asked, not a little irritated that they thought they could treat her like that. “I tell you all I know, and you throw me in some dark cell, never to be seen again? Not going to happen.”
Brocke came closer, and Cora stood at once, backing away from him.
“That is entirely up to you,” the warrior said, stopping a few feet from her. “If you prove yourself useful in finding Condor, my father might find it in him to forgive you.”
“That is not fair,” Cora protested, but the look in those blue eyes was merciless, not allowing argument.
“Nothing ever is,” he said. “I’m not really threatening you, Lieutenant. You would know if I were. We will catch Condor, but I’m warning you to stay quiet about Gomor.”
“You could have just asked me politely, you know,” Cora felt the need to cut in. “I want to catch that son of a bitch as much as you do.”
“I’ve found that asking takes a lot more time than telling.”
Corgans.
Cora took a deep breath, calming herself. Both the threat and Brocke’s nearness were driving her out of her mind. She wanted to hate the bastard for acting like he owned everything, but she couldn’t. There was a charisma to him that dragged her in against her will. Something sure and strong, just like him.
“Alright,” she sighed. “Let’s do this. Where do we start?”
Finally, there was a look of surprise on Brocke’s face. Cora almost cried out in victory, even if she didn’t know over what.
“We?” he asked. “I will catch Condor alone. You would slow me down.”
>
Nice one. You could charm the paint off the walls with those lines.
“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Cora said defiantly, “but I’m coming with you. On the scene is where I work best. I think we should start at the latest site and move on from there.”
Brocke appeared to consider that, measuring her from head to toe with a somewhat surprised look. Cora had never felt more naked under someone’s scrutiny than in that moment.
“You might be right,” Brocke said. “It would be faster like this, but Condor is dangerous.”
“I am a part of the Militant. We know what the job can bring,” she shot right back at him.
The warrior wasn’t persuaded by her reassurance, clearly. His eyes were completely serious as he regarded her.
“You have not dealt with Corgan fanatics.”
He still scared the fuck out of Cora, but she wasn’t going to sit there and take his dismissive attitude.
“I’ve seen their handiwork,” she said, standing sure and proud before the warrior. “I think I know what I’m getting myself into better than you. And besides, you already told me I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
Brocke said nothing to that, but there was a curious light in his blue eyes. Cora took his silence as victory and walked to the door.
“Shall we?” she asked, her heart thudding in her chest, knowing that pushing Brocke didn’t end well for people.
Yet, the warrior only smirked, nodding. As they left the dark room for equally dark corridors, Cora felt like she’d passed some sort of a test.
They climbed a few floors until they reached a small bay, cramped with vessels of all kinds. Cora wondered if they were all Brocke’s. Possibly, but the one he was heading to made her stop in her tracks.
“Are you serious?” she asked. “That thing is basically a suicide note. I’ve seen the tricks your warriors pull with these.”
Climbing on the speeder, Brocke extended his arm to her, beckoning her forward.
“Then you should know I won’t let you fall or get hurt. Get on. We have a murderer to catch.”
