by Natalie Grey
Samara took one look at Nura’s face and knew that none of those reasons meant anything to her. Nura was too straightforward. She wouldn’t see why Samara would be happy for Aryn to be with someone else, and she would never have lied to Aryn about who Ellian was. To her, Aryn was a traitor.
She turned and strode away, and Samara gave Stefan a look.
“…Right.” Stefan shook his head. “Sorry.” He nodded. “You have another message.”
“She wrote again.” Samara heard the ache in her voice. Everyone on Ymir nominally had the ability to communicate, but the communications were, in reality, heavily controlled by the Warlord. That Aryn’s message had gotten through at all was a testament to Ellian’s influence—and, likely, his encryption systems. He was doing this as a favor to Aryn. Samara sighed as she opened the message.
At her frown, Stefan leaned down to read the message, and his brows drew together as well.
Because the message was not from Aryn.
My name is Talon Rift, and I have received word that the resistance on Ymir is preparing to mobilize. I will arrive soon with weapons and soldiers to aid them. Further communication will be risky, but if it is worth the risk, you can respond to this message. Move carefully, and wait for our arrival.
“They heard us.” Samara breathed the words. Three weeks ago, she had gotten a message off-world, but the transmission had been intercepted, and there had been no way to know if those who had received it had passed word along.
But they had. Someone was coming.
All Samara had to do was keep the resistance alive until they came.
“Ariane, you are cleared to land in dock 74-a.”
“Roger that.” Jester guided the Ariane down, his eyes locked on the screen as the ship broke through the perpetual snowstorms of New Arizona. Snow and sleet beat against the glass, but Jester’s touch on the controls was steady.
Over his head, Talon met Nyx’s eyes. In the past week and a half, the two of them, and Tersi, had spent their time trying to determine which members of the crew were loyal … and which were agents bought by the head of Alliance Intelligence, Aleksander Soras. The information, which might have been only a fun game otherwise, had become absolutely vital since Talon had learned the truth about Soras.
He was the Warlord of Ymir, and he had used his position first in the Alliance Navy, and then in Intelligence, to tighten his hold on the planet he ruled. He had crashed Navy carriers, changed intel, had spies murdered, and had used the Dragon Corps to take out leaders of the resistance on Ymir. With spies even in most of the Dragon crews, Soras had an impressive amount of information about where his potential enemies were and what resources they had.
He had failed to appreciate one fact, however: Talon Rift was, to a fault, a stubborn and vengeful bastard who did not intend to rest until Soras was dead at his feet. He had killed two of Soras’s agents so far, and he intended to find each of the others.
It would be particularly convenient if Jester were loyal. They had no finer pilot on Team 9, and Talon had fought beside Jester since before he had taken command. Jester had followed him to Team 9, and if Talon were honest with himself, a betrayal from Jester would cut deep.
But taking shortcuts and making assumptions based on what he wanted was a surefire way to end up dead in a ditch. The Warlord had no compunctions about killing his enemies, and Talon had—before he knew the man’s identity—proclaimed to Soras that he would not rest until the Warlord was dead.
Talon, Nyx, and Tersi had planned to work with only those they could be sure were loyal, and cut out the rest of the team at the last minute. Killing any more of Soras’s agents would tip him off to the fact that they were onto him, which, right now, was their only element of surprise.
So it was a surprise when Jester got up and slid the door to the bridge closed.
“I got an offer the other day,” he said bluntly. His eyes flicked between Talon and Nyx. “From Intelligence, to pass information on your plans regarding the Warlord.” He went to sit down, his hands splayed out, away from any weapons. His brown eyes met Talon’s. “And it seemed to me that it was an interesting coincidence that we’d lost Mars and Camorra, who left the ship when you’d said expressly that you didn’t want to be followed … and now other members of the crew are getting offers to be informants. So, what I want to know is, why the hell do you care enough about Alliance Intelligence knowing what you’re up to, that you’re willing to kill your own crew mates?”
There was no warmth in his face, and Talon blew out a breath.
Jester looked at Nyx, and there was desperation there. “Tell me he has a good reason. Tell me the two of you aren’t doing something shady.”
It was his tell that gave away his sincerity: when Jester was worried, he tended to clench his toes and release them. To Talon’s knowledge, the Dragon wasn’t aware of his tic, and Talon had never told him about it. Suspicious by nature, he liked to know his crew’s tells.
“There’s a bomb in here, isn’t there?” He looked at Jester, who swallowed. “You were ready to take the two of us out if we’d been going bad.”
Jester hesitated, then nodded.
“And did anyone at Intelligence suggest that strategy to you?” Nyx’s voice was too soft. She was still wary.
Jester gave her a look. “I wasn’t going to let the two of you get strung up on trial or hunted down by the other teams. That would be the way they would do it, and it would mean a lot of Dragons would die.” His hands clenched, and he looked at Talon. “But we trained together. Tell me you’re not—”
“I’m not,” Talon said simply. “Which means….”
Jester frowned. “That there’s someone in Intelligence who shouldn’t be there.”
“That,” Talon said with feeling, “is an understatement.” He stared the man down. “Did you take the offer?”
“For fuck’s sake, first her, now you? No. I was going to take care of it myself if things were wrong.” Jester looked between the two of them. “I … didn’t think they were, or Tersi wouldn’t still be on the team. But I knew I didn’t want either of you to be traitors, and that would cloud my judgement.”
“Fair enough.” Talon looked at Nyx, who nodded. He knew her aural implants were tuned to catch the faint distortions in tone that occurred with lying. From everything he could see, Jester was telling the truth.
The fact that he’d been willing to sacrifice his own life to take Talon out was surprisingly touching.
…It was possible Dragons weren’t very good at creating touching moments. Talon gave a grimace and tried to figure out what to say.
“Soras is the Warlord,” Nyx said bluntly, while Talon was trying to marshall his thoughts.
“What?” Jester looked between the two of them.
“I was trying to come up with a good way to say that,” Talon muttered to Nyx.
“I think my way got the point across.” She frowned at him, then looked back to Jester. “So far, we know you, me, Tersi, and the new kid are loyal. We’re still trying to figure out the rest.”
“Can’t see Aegis taking a bribe,” Jester said contemplatively. He considered. “Look, why don’t you leave Nyx in charge. Tersi and I will run through communications and see who’s been contacted and what’s been sent. We’ll start with Mars and Camorra’s transmissions so we know what to look for.”
“Good call.” Talon nodded and stood.
“So, what are we here for, then?” Jester looked out at the too-clean landing bay. “You know most of the people here wouldn’t give a damn if they sided with the Warlord over the Alliance.”
“I know,” Talon said, unperturbed. “But there are resources here we can’t find anywhere else. Including Cade.”
“Cade.” Jester whistled. “Well, good luck getting him.”
“Why does everyone think I’m going to fail at this?” Talon shook his head. “I am your commander, you could have a little bit of respect. Hold down the fort and I’ll be back soon. I’m takin
g Loki and Sphinx.”
“Why them?” Nyx asked, with a frown.
“They’re the only two who don’t have dress clothes,” Talon explained. He left the other two frowning after him, and headed off, whistling.
Let them wonder. He had a plan.
On the screen, a small figure lounged in a pilot’s chair. Alina Kuznetsova was 4’10” in very thick-soled shoes, and still—to hear the Dragons tell it—one of the most intimidating people on the force.
Right now, she was also a thorn in Aleksander Soras’s side.
“We double-checked the intelligence before we passed it through.” He tried to keep his voice from rising with annoyance. Right now, he needed to pretend he was on her side, so he forced a regretful smile. “We would not have advocated such strong measures unless we were absolutely sure of what was going on.”
“I’m not sure.” Her tone was blunt. White-blonde hair glittered in the low light of the cockpit, and she raised her pale eyebrows at Soras. “And I’m not going to assassinate a Dragon commander until I’m sure. So, either you pass me your sources so I can figure out what’s going on, or you wait while I investigate it myself.” She considered. “Or, I suppose, you could give me different intelligence that’s verifiable.”
“Commander Kuznetsova—”
“I always double check my intel before an operation.” She was not in the least swayed by his attempt to pressure her. “I don’t object to killing. I think it’s often a good tactic. But I don’t do it unless I’m absolutely sure that the person I’m killing deserves it. And you haven’t proved to me that Talon Rift is actually participating in the slave trade.”
Soras considered. There was no way to back out of this. If he withdrew his request for her to assassinate Rift, she would only get more curious. Which meant he either had to prevaricate and delay, or push through some intel that she could verify on her own.
Which was what he thought he had given her the first time. He’d made sure that sources were available to parrot the story he’d made up.
What the hell had he seen that spooked her?
“I will see what I can do,” he said, as pleasantly as he could, and he hung up.
The Dragons were going to be a problem. Three had already, apparently, decided not to take the requested job, and the fourth was being problematic. All four certainly couldn’t have accidents at once, and the orders might begin to circulate.
Soras rang the buzzer for his assistant and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Yes?” Julian appeared in the doorway.
“More evidence for Kuznetsova.” He was in no mood for further questions, and so when Julian opened his mouth, Soras only snapped, “Just handle it.”
The man disappeared without another word, and Soras resisted the urge to sink his head into his hands. It was all coming apart. If he couldn’t arrange for Rift to be taken out, things were about to get very ugly.
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