Wings of Retribution

by Sara King

  Why hadn’t he been moved? Was the Emperor punishing him? Was he to spend the next few days in solitary confinement? What had happened to the Merchant he had displaced? Had the man found a different bedroom?

  He went back to the door and pushed on it. The weave of fiber and leather still smelled of the sea. When he pressed on it, however, it did not budge.

  “Hey!” Ragnar shouted. “Anybody out there?”

  He was about ready to lay back down and go to sleep when the intercom crackled.

  Ragnar Reeve of the Second House, you have five minutes to show yourself before we are forced to execute one of your kind.

  Ragnar froze. Five minutes? But he had already shown himself.

  What if it had taken the Merchant too long to find the right authorities? What if the chain of communication had broken down?

  He glanced up at the tiny speaker in the corner of the room. If these people had the technology to create an island-wide intercom system, they had the ability to make a two-way call network. It should be as easy as picking up a comset.

  Which meant the Merchant had never told them.

  “Hey!” Ragnar shouted, pounding on the door. “Tell someone I’m here! Don’t let them kill anyone!”

  The guard on the other side was silent.

  Ragnar slammed his shoulder into the door, but the material merely bowed against his weight and threw him backwards. Ragnar tried again.

  From the other side, the guard began to fret. It was a young man, one Ragnar had never heard before.

  “Please, Ragnar Reeve, stay calm. You are in no danger.”

  “Tell them I turned myself in! Tell them!”

  “Of course, Ragnar Reeve. It was a simple mistake.”

  “Fix it!” Ragnar shouted. “Before somebody dies!”

  “Of course.” The footsteps hurried away and Ragnar relaxed.

  The intercom blared again, shattering his calm. Dawn has come and passed, Ragnar Reeve. The body of your fellow will be hung from the wall above the gardens so you may see the result of your disobedience. If you fail to show yourself by tomorrow, another will die.

  At that, the transmission ended.

  Saying Goodbye to Stuey

  “I can’t take you beyond this point, human.” Taal hovered in the water beneath Athenais, keeping her adrift.

  “Why not?” Athenais glanced at the last five hundred feet of waves beyond the buoy and swallowed. It was getting dark.

  “See those beacons? Underneath each flashing light, they have detectors for my kind aimed toward land. Anything that gets beyond the nets raises an alarm. I shouldn’t have come this far. It’s dangerous.”

  “But I can’t swim.”

  “You can’t die, either.”

  “Yes, but…” Athenais imagined what it would be like to wake up on the bottom of the ocean and felt her bowls loosen. “Please. I need you to take me to the other side. I’ll never get there on my own.”

  Taal hesitated. “I can’t. The Intruders will kill me.”

  “I don’t take cowards on my ship.”

  The serpentine body under her stiffened. She felt him hesitate, felt his eyes scan the little blinking lights. “If I get you to land…you promise to come back for me?”

  “I already said yes,” Athenais said, getting frustrated. “Now all you have to do is swim another hundred and fifty yards.”

  “But…” She was a bit startled to realize she could feel the indecision rolling off of him. The fear.

  “I can handle Juno,” Athenais interrupted, knowing she was about to lose him. “My magic is stronger.”

  Taal hesitated a moment longer, then, tentatively, he said, “You will take me up into the stars?”

  “I already told you I would,” Athenais said. “But only if you fulfill your end of the bargain. I’m a land-dweller, not a swimmer.”

  After a long moment to think about that, Taal shot forward. He slipped over the net and rushed the last few hundred feet, plowing through the water like a missile. He pushed Athenais up onto the nearest rock and turned, scanning the water behind him.

  “I will stay nearby, for when you come for me.”

  “Fine.” Athenais crawled onto the rocky beach, utterly thankful for the cold, hard stone beneath her. As many times as she’d looked down at them from above, she’d never really realized how much she hated oceans. She guessed it was just one of those things a person had to experience to appreciate, from to the cold black nothingness dropping away beneath your feet to the sharks nibbling at your toes in the night.

  Smart sharks, those. Too smart. Like weasels, but bigger and with more teeth. She certainly wouldn’t put it past Juno to have genetically engineered a smarter shark. Hell, that was probably the first thing she did.

  When she looked back, Taal was gone.

  One of them was dead.

  Ragnar had that sick knot of knowing in his stomach, the kind that left him caught between the gut-wrenching need to sob and the overpowering need to vomit. One of his family was dead. They were down to two.

  He didn’t dare think about which one Juno had taken. He didn’t dare think about it, because knew if he did, he might start to wonder, to hope…

  And the moment he started to hope that one of his kin had survived over the other, Ragnar knew he would be unable to live with himself afterwards. It was already all his fault. He refused to disrespect his kindred’s memory with such a taint.

  Maybe they’re just trying to scare me, Ragnar thought. Maybe it was all a ruse. Something to keep him from doing it again.

  Yet, remembering that cold voice over the intercom, Ragnar’s gut told him the truth. For some reason, word hadn’t reached the psychopath and her puppet. For some reason, they still didn’t know where he was.

  Anguished, Ragnar watched the sun go down from the window of his cell. His captors hadn’t spoken to him since dawn, thus when four of them finally appeared at nightfall, he was hungry enough to eat what they offered him.

  This time, however, the pink slab of fish was not drugged. He ate until he was full, knowing he might need the sustenance in the near future, then set his plate aside as nonchalantly as he could. No need to make sudden movements. Put the fools at ease…

  “So what do you want with me?” he asked the Merchant, who stood beside two burly men with the weathered look of sailors. “You’re not handing me over to the Emperor. What are you going to do? Sell me?”

  The Merchant’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. We would never go against the Emperor’s Will.”

  “Then what are you doing?” Ragnar asked, holding his gaze.

  The Merchant began to wring his hands and glanced at his cook.

  The woman gave him a small smile that creased her lined face. “We’re doing the Emperor a service by bringing more commerce to this blighted planet.”

  That seemed to calm the Merchant a bit, and he nodded, smiling.

  “So you’re selling me.” Ragnar continued to hold the Merchant’s eyes.

  “No, no, no…” The Merchant bit his lip and looked away.

  “You’re our ticket off this planet,” the woman said. “We’ll be rid of this totalitarian brainwashing scheme once and for all. We’ll have a new life on the outside, maybe on one of the colonies, turn all this cultist crap over to the Utopia. Let Marceau and his Corps sort it out.”

  Ragnar eyed her. “You sound like you’ve been there.”

  “I grew up a spacer,” the woman said, scowling. “Ship’s cook. We was on a mining expedition out into uncharted territory when we came a little too close to Xenith. Their fleet surrounded us, forced us to land. They brainwashed the pilots and sent the rest of us to a penal colony. Martaj, here, found me selling floaters to criminals and brought me with him.”

  Ragnar felt a sinking in his gut. “This planet is uncharted?”

  She nodded.

  How was Athenais going to find him on an uncharted planet?

  Desperate, Ragnar said, “Maybe we can help each other. How are you
selling me? Do you have contacts with the outside?”

  “As if we’d tell you any of that, shifter.” The woman laughed. “Now let’s go. Your ship leaves in two hours.”

  “You can’t take me off the planet,” Ragnar said. “You heard the intercom. They’re killing my people.”

  The woman spat. “I don’t give a damn about your people. I was due for my Potion thirty years ago.” She grabbed a lock of gray hair and held it out disgustedly. “I’ve served these child emperors and their fake goddess for fifty years. I’m going home to my family.”

  “But innocent people are going to die…”

  The woman bared her teeth. “I’m getting off this planet. Your friends can go to hell.” Then she turned and left, the Merchant close on her heels.

  The two sailors got behind Ragnar and escorted him from the room. They passed through a tunnel that spiraled downward, the crashing of waves increasing as they descended.

  Ragnar could hear the ocean before he could see it. The booming crashes became less muffled and he could hear the spray of water. Then he caught the scent of fish and seaweed as the rock gave way before them to expose the moon-soaked landscape.

  The tunnel opened on a rocky cove, with a dock jutting out into the water like a finger. A ship was moored at the end of the dock, sails furled and silent against the black waves.

  They marched him down to the end of the dock and onto the gangplank. “You should be grateful,” the woman said as the sailors led him across the deck. “People would kill to be in your shoes.”

  “Maybe you should let him be the judge of that.”

  The new voice was music to his ears. Even as the other four glanced around for its source, Ragnar reran it in his mind, wondering if it could be real.

  One of the barrels lining the side of the ship moved. The figure was dressed only in spacer’s underwear, but there was no mistaking the fiery red hair.

  “What do you say, Ragnar?” Athenais squared her stance, eyeing the other four. “You feel like going with these spacerats?”

  The graying woman narrowed her eyes at Athenais. “You were a spacer, too?”

  “Was?” Athenais scoffed. “Get out of here. This shifter’s my property.”

  Ragnar scowled. Property?

  “You’re mistaken,” the graying cook said. “He’s ours. We’re using him to get off-planet.”

  “I’d like to see how you’re going to do that without a ship,” Athenais said. “Or are you planning on stowing him away somewhere and hoping that the Utopia sends out a search party before you die of old age?” Athenais laughed. “Don’t delude yourself.”

  The cook’s arthritic fingers clenched. “Kill her.”

  Ragnar lunged at the nearest sailor, bringing him to his knees. They grappled on the weathered planks of the dock, each trying to get hold of the other’s neck. Ragnar had an advantage there, since the collar made it difficult for the other man to get his fingers in place around his throat.

  Beside him, the cook unholstered an antique, combustion-dependent projectile pistol, aiming it at Athenais, who was struggling with the other sailor. Ragnar released the man he was grappling with and grabbed the cook’s arm before she could fire. With his other hand, he took hold of the sailor’s wrist where it was reaching for his throat.

  In the next instant, the graying woman saw what he planned to do, but before she could turn the weapon on him, he shifted.

  Briefly, Ragnar felt the woman and the sailor stiffen before the collar shocked him into unconsciousness.

  “You hear that?” Dallas straightened, staring at the little speaker in the corner of the room. “She said something about Ragnar.”

  Shhh. Don’t look surprised. They might be watching us.

  “But they said his name. Ragnar Reeve. He’s loose on the island somewhere.”

  Or he’s dead. He wouldn’t let the others die so he could stay hidden.

  “We’ve got to get a message to him,” Dallas said, getting excited. “Something to let him know we’re on the island.”

  As soon as you step out that door, they’re gonna know that you’re not as brainwashed as you act.

  “Next time we go out, we could fly around with a sign attached to our ship. Circle the island a few times.”

  That’s gotta be the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard. They’d know what you’re trying to do.

  “It could be in the shifter language,” Dallas said defensively.

  I don’t know the shifter language. Do you?

  “No,” she admitted.

  Stuart was silent a moment. Then, I could do it.

  “How?”

  Next time we’re in the bay. I could take another body.

  Dallas felt a rush of fear at the thought of being alone. “No way. What if you got caught? What if you got lost? What if—”

  Dallas. Do you really want to ship freight for the rest of your life?

  “Well, no…” she began.

  If we can contact Ragnar, we’ve got a chance. He’s a chameleon, even better than me. We could infiltrate their ranks, figure out how to get you back on your ship. As soon as you’re in the air, you’ve got a fighting chance. You can’t fight Everest, but you could probably outrun her.

  “I’m not leaving without you,” Dallas said immediately. “You’re my best friend.”

  Stuart, to her relief, didn’t laugh. You think I’d let you leave without me? Believe me, you get back on your ship and I’m gonna be right there with you.

  Dallas fidgeted. “Before I let you go anywhere, I want to hear a plan.”

  Athenais wrapped the unconscious bodies in as much rope as she could find and carried them all below decks. Then she threw Ragnar’s limp form into a barrel and shut the lid. The shifter was much lighter than the last time she had seen him, but she didn’t have time to worry about it. She climbed back out into the fresh air and slammed the hatch down behind her. Then she dragged the pile of anchor chain over the top of the hatch, pinning it.

  Satisfied, Athenais jogged down the ramp and up into the dark tunnel in the rock. She took the steps two at a time, then paused for air when she reached the top. Head high, she walked up to the first man she saw and punched him in the face.

  Ragnar woke to total darkness, his body cramped and aching, his neck crammed up against the side of a too-small container. He felt a horrible clenching in his gut, knowing that he was on his way to the black market. He examined his prison with his fingers and determined it was some sort of barrel. Tentatively, he pushed against the lid.

  To his surprise, it lifted without resistance. Ragnar blinked to the light of morning easing its way through the portholes.

  He stood up slowly, his head pounding from the aborted yeit.

  “Athenais?” he whispered. “Where are you?”

  Nothing. He glanced around the dark, dank room. In one corner, four bound prisoners stared back at him in gagged, brooding silence. Ragnar looked around, confused.

  “Athenais?” he whispered again. “You there?”

  When no one answered, he climbed out of the barrel and checked the tiny rooms in the bottom of the ship. Early morning light warmed the weather-beaten wood, but the ship was otherwise deserted.

  Ragnar went to the ladder and tried to open the hatch. It was blocked from the other side, but still moved slightly. He could have managed to get it open if he worked at it, but he backed down the ladder. Athenais’s message was clear—stay on the ship.

  Ragnar touched the collar around his neck, then looked back to the four prisoners that Athenais had left trussed up like turkeys on the floor behind him. His eyes came to rest on the hard-faced woman that had served them the fish and he allowed a slow smile to cross his face.

  One of them had a key.

  Tommy glanced at the satellite images and allowed a satisfied smile. A storm was coming. A big one. With its current trajectory, it would hit the island of Paradise in a day, two days at the most.

  “Is the weather satisfactory, captain?”
a Trader asked apprehensively. “This is the time of year Paradise gets hit with some mighty storms.”

  “The weather is superb,” Tommy said, switching off the screen. “Get your goods inside. We’ll get you to your destination.”

  “These ships sink, don’t they?” the Trader whined. “I usually do my business with wooden sailing vessels. At least parts of them float. How can a ship that’s made of metal float?”

  “Magic,” Tommy said.

  “These are very important goods,” the Trader insisted. “Ordered for the Emperor himself. Floater wash. Forty liters, distilled. Do you know how much that’s worth?”

  “The goddamn ship’s not going down!” Tommy barked, pushed past his limit by the whiny civilian. “Now get your goods on board or I’ll leave you on this blighted pile of flotsam.” He threw his arms out to indicate the enormous floating raft and the crowd of sailors watching them. “Is that what you want?”

  The Trader peered at him. “You don’t sound like an Emperor’s pilot. How long have you been flying? How do I know you’re not trying to rob me?”

  Tommy twisted to point at the ship’s hull. “You see those big things that look like toothpicks?”

  The Trader nodded.

  “This is a gunship. Those are high-intensity lasers. Computer-operated. Very accurate. If I had wanted to rob you, I would have told the ship to vaporize the fifty-seven humanoid life-forms the scanners picked up before I landed.” Not true, of course, but this country bumpkin wouldn’t know the difference between antennae and laser arrays.

  The Trader glanced up at the antennae and back at the sailors. “What are lasers?”

  Tommy dropped his face into his palm and dragged his hand down his face. “All right. You know what? Fine. I’ll just go back to the Emperor and tell him you didn’t feel like sending the goods right now.” He turned on heel and started marching back up his gangplank.

  “Wait!” the Trader babbled. “I’m sorry. Please, I was not questioning the Emperor’s Will.” Turning quickly to his underlings, he shouted, “Load them up! Now! Stop standing around and move!”