“Let’s say I believe you,” Lucien said. “How are we supposed to help you get home? We don’t even have a ship. And since you need our help, I suspect you don’t have one, either.”
“I do have a ship.”
Lucien felt his eyes narrowing. “Then we’re back to why.”
“I need your help to find the lost fleet.”
Addy leaned forward with sudden interest, her brow furrowed and green eyes sharp. “What lost fleet?”
“The one the Etherians sent to negotiate with Abaddon.”
Lucien slowly shook his head. “You’re saying the Etherians took a whole fleet past the Red Line? When was that? I’ve never heard about it.”
“More than ten thousand years ago.”
Lucien sat back with a frown. “Then they must have returned home by now.”
Katawa shook his head. “The crew was executed by Abaddon. Before they died they sent their fleet away to keep Abaddon from finding it.”
“And it’s been lost ever since?” Addy asked.
Again, the alien inclined his head. “Yes.”
“How do you know all of this?” Lucien asked.
“Because I was one of the crew.”
Lucien blinked. “So you’re over ten thousand years old?”
The alien shook his head. “I am over five hundred thousand years old.”
“And you came from Etheria ten thousand years ago,” Lucien said, still not buying the story.
Katawa inclined his head in another shallow nod.
“You’ve been out here all this time?” Addy asked. “Why didn’t you go home?”
“I do not know the way.”
“But this lost Etherian fleet has the location programmed into their nav computers,” Lucien suggested.
“Yes.”
“You’re from Etheria and you don’t know where it is?” Lucien asked. “How’s that possible?”
“We could not risk allowing the location to fall into enemy hands. We were made to forget the way before we left. Our ships were programmed to return there automatically.”
“This is a waste of time,” Garek said. “By now the Faros have found that fleet and re-purposed it for themselves.”
Katawa shook his head. “If they had found it, they would have developed the same technologies by now.”
“You’re saying that Farosien tech is inferior to Etherian tech?” Garek asked.
Katawa looked up at him, blinking his huge eyes. “You did not know this?”
“The Etherians are very secretive,” Lucien explained. “But it’s reassuring to hear that someone might be capable of defeating the Faros.”
“So the question is, if they can, why don’t they?” Addy said. “Why allow the Farosiens to exist? Why not just destroy them and set all of the slaves free?”
Lucien felt his brow tense into a knot. “That’s a good question.” He nodded to Katawa. “You lived in Etheria. Why don’t they attack the Faros?”
Katawa shook his oversized head. “I do not know. I have also wondered this.”
Addy frowned. “You said it’s been ten thousand years. In all of that time they never sent anyone to rescue you? You’re one of them!”
“Perhaps they do not wish to lose another fleet.”
Addy snorted and shook her head.
“Let’s say we agree to help you,” Lucien said. “How can we help you find this missing fleet, and how does finding the fleet help us?”
“You can be made to look like Faros. I cannot. You will be able to move freely through the empire.”
“So you want to paint us blue and shave off all our hair,” Garek said. “Then what? We go around randomly asking the Faros if they’ve seen a derelict fleet? If that’s your strategy, it’s no wonder you haven’t been able to find anything in ten thousand years.”
“You didn’t answer my second question,” Lucien pointed out. “How does finding this fleet help us?”
“You wish to fight a war against Abaddon. You will need ships for that. If you find the fleet, you can keep the vessels.”
Garek appeared to perk up with this suggestion. “How many ships were in the fleet?”
“More than a thousand, all heavily armed.”
Garek whistled. “When Etherus sends an envoy, he doesn’t mess around.”
“Where do we start looking?” Lucien asked.
“First you must be disguised. Then we will take my ship to follow the trail.”
“There’s a trail?” Addy asked.
“Yes. I have kept notes from my searching.”
Lucien nodded along with that and turned to Addy. “What do you think?”
“It’s a risky plan. What if someone discovers we’re not actually Faros? We won’t sound like them when we talk.”
“That’s a good point,” Lucien replied. The translator bands they wore didn’t replace their native language or their accents; the technology simply allowed them to understand what was said in other languages.
“Your minds can be programmed to speak their language. I have a device for this.”
Lucien’s brow furrowed. “Will it teach us their accents, too?”
The gray alien inclined his head. “Yes.”
“Sounds like you’ve been planning this for a long time,” Garek said.
“I had hoped to convince Oorgurak and the other green skins, but they do not believe the fleet can be found.”
Garek grunted. “Maybe because the Etherians flew it into a black hole. Why leave it drifting somewhere for the Faros to find? And how could Abaddon kill the entire crew without destroying their ships? You expect me to believe they left more than a thousand warships unattended while they went to negotiate with a hostile alien race?”
“They were not unattended. My people were at the helm.”
“And they stole away with the fleet when negotiations broke down,” Addy said, nodding.
“Yes. We hid the fleet and erased our memories of its location.”
“Why?” Garek demanded. “Why not use it to go home?”
“We learned things about Etherus that made us want to stay here. The fleet was to be our insurance that our people would not become slaves. Only one of us knew its location. If we were enslaved, he was to keep the fleet’s location a secret. If, however, we were made citizens of the Farosien Empire, its location would be revealed.”
“Why not simply keep the ships and use them to defend yourselves?” Addy asked. “You could have formed your own empire out here.”
“A thousand ships would never have been enough to defend us.”
“And yet we’re supposed to risk our lives finding them so we can use them to fight a war against the Faros?” Garek asked.
“Defending a colony is different from hiding in the shadows and striking targets of opportunity.”
Lucien turned to Addy. “I’m willing to risk it if you are.”
Addy nodded. “What have we got to lose?”
“Just our lives,” Lucien said.
“It’s worth the risk. Can you imagine all the worlds we’re going to see? If we look and sound like Faros, they won’t even try to attack us! We’ll be able to come and go as we please.”
Lucien looked to Brak next. Enigmatic as ever, the Gor hadn’t said a thing in all this time. “What do you think, buddy?”
“I think they cannot make me look like a Faro.”
That was a good point. Humans and Faros looked very much alike, but Gors were completely different, from their skull-shaped faces to their giant feet and over-sized, muscular frames. “What about Brak?” Lucien asked.
“He will be a shadow.”
“A what?” Lucien asked.
“You mean he’ll be like a shadow?” Addy suggested.
Katawa shook his head. “Shadows are Faro slaves. They appear as shadows. Their garments hide their features to make them less noticeable and more aesthetically pleasing to the Faros.”
Lucien remembered the shadowy beings that they’d seen when they
first met the Faros and Abaddon. Brak had killed a few of them on the landing pad before running away on his impulsive quest to free Faro slaves.
“I will also be a shadow,” Katawa said.
Lucien waited for Brak’s reaction. After a moment, Brak bared his dagger-sharp black teeth in a grin. “I agree with this plan.”
“Garek?” Lucien asked.
The scarred veteran hesitated. “We should talk about this.”
“We are talking.”
In private. Garek’s voice echoed inside Lucien’s head, spoken via their augmented reality contacts (ARCs) rather than aloud.
What’s wrong? Lucien asked. I thought you wanted to rescue your daughter?
I do, but I don’t trust this guy.
What does he have to gain by lying to us? Lucien countered. If he’s a spy for Abaddon, there are less convoluted ways to capture us. In fact, if he is a spy, why not simply call in the Faros’ fleet and capture all of the Marauders on Freedom Station? Why lure us away with this story?
I don’t know. He might not be a spy, but he has an agenda that he’s not telling us about.
You can’t possibly know that, Lucien replied.
“Well?” Addy asked, growing impatient with the awkward silence.
“Majority rules,” Lucien decided, nodding to Garek. “You can either join us or not.”
Garek frowned, but said nothing.
Lucien turned to Katawa. “When do we start?”
“Right now.” The gray alien said as he rose from the table. “Follow me.”
Chapter 3
Astralis
SEVEN DAYS UNTIL THE FAROS ATTACK...
Chief of Security Lucien Ortane sat in the front of an unmarked hover car, eating a burger and watching the back door of a night club in Sub-District Two of Astralis. Brak sat beside him eating his own kind of burger—all meat, no bun, and so raw it was practically dripping.
“Don’t get blood on the seats,” Lucien mumbled around a mouthful.
Brak grunted and stuffed the rest of the raw burger into his mouth.
Lucien shook what was left of his meal at the rear entrance. “I don’t get it. My source said the deal was going down here. Tonight.” They’d parked in the shadows of an alley that ran crosswise to the one looping around the night club. The club was located in a particularly seedy part of Sub-District Two, and night club was a misnomer. The Crack of Dawn was a strip club, pure and simple, but more than that, it was a front for the Coretti Brothers’ black market arms dealing and money laundering.
The whole neighborhood was run by the Corettis, and the police in Sub-District Two knew better than to go patrolling around here. The only cops found in this neighborhood were dead ones, hence why no one from Lucien’s department had volunteered for this mission. Unfortunately, since Sub-District Two wasn’t technically part of Fallside’s jurisdiction, the mission was volunteer only. Lucien could have passed on his tip to the chief of security for Sub-District Two and let their department handle it, but he wasn’t convinced that would amount to anything. He strongly suspected the chief and/or several of his deputies and detectives were on the Coretti brothers’ payroll.
“Look,” Brak pointed. The back door of the club opened and six sketchy-looking characters poured out—including one Joseph Coretti, eldest of the three Coretti brothers. Lucien would have recognized him anywhere: medium height and build, skinny and pale to the point of looking sickly, with gaunt cheeks and blue-black hair slicked back from his forehead. He had a square jaw and silver eyes that shone in the dark like two pearls. A glow stick dangled out the side of his mouth, glowing blue-white all along its length and glowing orange from the lit end.
Lucien could have pulled him up on charges for drug possession right there, but there was that little problem of not having jurisdiction. Not to mention, simple possession charges wouldn’t keep Joe Coretti locked up for long.
Two of the goons with Joe were pushing a large black case on a hover cart between them. Something was off about the taller of the two, but Lucien couldn’t quite tell what it was... short dark hair, dark eyes, blank, generic face... it wasn’t his appearance. Something else. He stood too straight. His movements were too precise, like a machine. But he looked human. An android maybe? Androids were illegal. That might be another thing to pin on Coretti. No way to prove it without a warrant, though.
Lucien watched as the rigid man and his more-human looking counterpart pushed the case to the front of the group and waited there. Joe blew out a stream of smoke and glanced up at a flickering street light.
“Ten to one there’s weapons in that case,” Lucien said.
Brak nodded. “Want me to get a better look?”
Lucien glanced at his partner. The Gor was a unique asset on stakeouts thanks to his innate cloaking abilities. “Not yet. Let’s wait and see who shows up.”
They didn’t have to wait long. A long black hover van with tinted windows came screaming down the alley, flying low to the ground.
“Hello...” Lucien whispered. The car stopped right in front of Coretti’s gang and four tall men in black suits jumped out.
Joe nodded to the case on the hover cart and his men popped it open, but the four men in suits blocked Lucien’s view of the contents.
“All right, now you can go,” Lucien said, nodding to Brak.
The Gor nodded back and the air shimmered around him as he cloaked himself. The door slid open, and he slipped out. Lucien watched him go, then went back to watching the group of gangsters in the alley. The four who’d arrived in the van were gesturing wildly to the case, as if it wasn’t what they’d ordered. Coretti’s goons began posturing in turn, and soon everyone had drawn their sidearms and was pointing them at each other’s heads.
“Go on, start shooting,” Lucien mumbled. “Save me the trouble of booking you all later.”
Technically none of them would die thanks to cloning and the technology for transfer of consciousness, but resurrection wasn’t a given right when it came to criminals. Murderers, for example, were almost never brought back—a kind of passive death penalty.
Unfortunately, none of the gangsters opened fire. Joe held up his hands and said something that cooled everyone’s tempers. They all holstered their weapons, and the four black-suited men shut the case and loaded it into the back of their van. Lucien frowned, wishing he could hear what had been said between them. He hadn’t brought any listening gear because he had Brak, but he hadn’t anticipated this deal going down so fast.
Before the men in suits could leave the scene, Lucien saw the telltale shimmer of a cloaking shield deactivate, and a naked gray monster appeared, standing to one side of the gangsters.
“Brak, you dumb skriff!” Lucien gritted out.
All eyes turned to the naked Gor, and weapons flew out of their holsters once more.
Lucien waved open the door on his side of the hover car and ran out with his own sidearm drawn. “Fallside PD!” he yelled, flashing his holographic badge in their eyes as he ran. “Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air!”
Joe Coretti smirked around the butt of his glow stick as Lucien skidded to a stop beside Brak.
“Well, well. Aren’t you a little far from home, Chief?”
“What’s in the case, Coretti?”
“You got a warrant? Oh, wait—” Coretti broke off, shaking his head. “—not your jurisdiction. I almost forgot.”
“It won’t matter who’s jurisdiction this is when I submit the recordings I just took of this deal going down. I’ve got you on at least three different charges here.”
“You sure about that?” Joe asked. “You just asked me what’s in the case, so I’m betting you’ve got nothing.”
“Hand over the case and we’ll see about that.”
The men in black suits traded glances with each other, but said nothing.
“Or what?” Coretti smiled smugly and blew a cloud of fragrant smoke in Lucien’s direction.
Lucien frowned. He had n
o authority here, and Joe knew it. The whole purpose of tonight’s stakeout had been to get enough evidence for a warrant, not to bring Coretti in prematurely without any hard evidence to make a conviction stick. What was Brak thinking?
“We’ll be back,” Lucien said, and grabbed Brak’s forearm, dragging him back toward their hover car.
“Sure you will,” Joe said. “In the meantime—” He made a shooing gesture with both hands, and gold rings glinted in the dim, flickering light of the alley.
Lucien walked backward all the way to the car, not taking eyes off any of them for a second. Once they were back inside, the black van raced away and Joe Coretti returned to his club, waving a vulgar sign at them as he left.
When they were all gone, Lucien shot a scowl at Brak. “What the frek were you thinking?”
Brak bared his black teeth and hissed. “They were about to leave. I had to get their attention.”
“Why?”
“I think I recognize one of them. I need to see his face to be sure.”
“And?”
“It is who I think. Judge Cleever’s son.”
Lucien blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Lucien played back the visual log from his ARCs and ran the faces of the men in black suits through Astralis’s database. Sure enough, one of them was a match for Titarus Cleever, only child and son of High Court Judge Exolia Cleever. Lucien checked Titarus’s record and found a long list of bookings for misdemeanor crimes.
“Looks like this kid has a habit of getting into trouble,” Lucien said. “No convictions, though. Mommy’s probably always there to bail him out. Nice work, Brak. With this lead, our investigation is really going to open up. If Cleever is dismissing cases to keep her son out of jail, it might explain why we’ve had so much trouble getting charges against the Corettis to stick.”
Brak nodded.
Then Lucien spotted something at the bottom of Titarus’s record. “Wait—that can’t be right.”
“What cannot be right?” Brak asked.
“It says here Titarus was charged with murder six months ago—posthumously. He died in a shootout between two rival gangs before he could be arrested. Apparently he murdered his own step-father and another high court judge sentenced him to remain dead.” Lucien turned to Brak. “That couldn’t have been Titarus we saw. It’s just some look-alike.” To confirm that, Lucien checked the facial recognition score. “Facial match was only eighty percent.”
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