Flare

by JC Hay

  In another life, maybe, he’d have been the person who deserved her trust. Instead he had to settle for being the guy who didn’t get her killed. It wasn’t glamorous, especially given that he was likely to die for his efforts, but knowing she’d be safe made it better.

  Kayana had been forced to live with him. She didn’t deserve to die because of him.

  The door at the end of the hall opened, and Marjon walked in, flanked by a security guard with a military-grade rifle. She stopped outside his cell and leaned against the wall opposite. “Damn. You’re awake.”

  “You would be too. Have you tried sleeping on one of these?” Ax jerked his thumb at the bed. “I’ve been on more comfortable rocks.”

  Marjon didn’t smile. “If he moves, shoot him. But don’t kill him. Gobnait wants to talk to him first.” The guard aimed his weapon at Ax, while Marjon tapped a code into the pad on her belt.

  The field at the front of the cell dropped, creating an absence of white noise. Ax was amazed at how quickly he’d learned to tune out the sound. The sudden silence was surprising. “You know, it’s not too late to change your mind, right, Marjon? I mean, you could tell them I overpowered you and stole a shuttle.”

  This time she smirked. “Sure, I could tell them that, but who would believe it?”

  THE Benevolent Repose had barely changed, which gave Ax a strange sense of déjà vu as Marjon led him down the corridor from the shuttle bay where they’d docked. Wear and tear continued, but overall the ship appeared to have been maintained with the same businesslike rigor that Gobnait brought to everything—whether it was maintenance, charity work, or destroying people’s lives.

  “Love what you haven’t done with the place,” he shot to Marjon. “The more things stay the same, am I right?”

  She poked him in the ribs with the butt of her blade, only turning it at the last second to remind him that she could have used the sharp end. “We even kept your pillow fluffed for you. Walk.”

  A cohort of soldiers followed behind her, as though emphasizing that escape was impossible. Not that he had anywhere to run. Despite the size of the vessel, most of the space was taken up by the factories that produced the medical supplies that made Bellerophon legitimate, as well as the narcotics that made it profitable. There weren’t many places he could lose his escort between the hangar and Gobby’s throne room.

  Not that she called it that. In fact, she’d taken rather a great deal of offense when Ax had suggested it. It was, as she had said repeatedly, an office and a conference chamber. He’d thought about pointing out that an office where you sat on a dais and passed judgment on the people looking up at you was pretty much the textbook definition of a throne room, but she’d just had a person condemned to hard labor on the factory floor for insubordination at the time, so he decided it was safer to keep his mouth shut.

  The enormous hardwood doors that led to the conference room dominated the end of the hall, and each step toward them made the panic that iced Ax’s stomach double.

  “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this.” Marjon chuckled and patted Ax on the cheek as they reached the doors. “It’s literally been years.”

  “Well, two of them,” Ax said. “I haven’t been gone that long after all. Besides, I thought your job was finding new people to exploit with addiction. Ruining strangers’ lives get too dull for you? When did you start doing resource retrieval?”

  “When it meant being the one to capture you. The bonus on my paycheck for turning you over? Enough to retire on.” Marjon shoved open the double doors, grabbed Ax, and shoved him through. Any déjà vu he thought he’d felt before paled in comparison to how familiar this scene was. He’d seen it a dozen times at least. Gobnait lounged in her oversized office chair reading a data tablet with disinterest, legs over one armrest as she leaned against the other. Her red hair had been collected into a messy braid that curled over her shoulder and into the seat beside her hip. A pair of burly guards stood just in front of the dais to keep hoi polloi from getting too close. The same shitty neo-funk played softly out of the speakers. Hells, even the air smelled the same.

  Marjon grabbed him by the collar and dragged him toward the front of the room. “Anaxagoras Turin-Welles, ma’am. As requested.”

  Gobnait tapped something on her tablet as she turned to sit forward in the chair—he really had to stop thinking of it as her throne, but every gesture only reinforced the image—and a holographic display filled the space around the dais. Proxima Secundus’s mineral-rich surface formed the floor, with mines and centers of business picked out in bright green text.

  “The prodigal returns,” she said as she tucked her data tablet into a protective sleeve that hung from the arm of the chair. “I’ve missed you.”

  “You didn’t appreciate me when I was here. I wasn’t anything more than a fancy patch you could use to give you an air of respectability. You missed the people I could connect you with. You didn’t miss me.”

  She shrugged and waved a hand indifferently. “You knew people in the high families. You knew how to get into better parties. Having you as part of Bellerophon meant more than respectability. It also meant an entry into a lot better markets.” She stood up and walked down the dais to stop in front of him. “The problem with selling to laborers is that they can’t afford to spend too much. But with the galactic rich...well, there’s practically no limit to what they would pay for a new experience. You cost me billions.”

  She hadn’t raised her voice, which was a bad sign. Gobnait typically let her emotions run freely, embracing anger or happiness as she felt them. Her quiet tone indicated she had moved into controlled fury.

  Ax swallowed. “You can’t know that.”

  “Actually, I can. I’ve got a half-dozen actuaries whose sole job is to figure out how much I might make on a venture. Why do you think I proposed to you in the first place?”

  Love was certainly out of the question. “That actually makes me feel less bad about skipping out on you, you realize.”

  “I don’t give a synthesized damn about your feelings.” Gobby turned back to the dais. “What I want is my money. I trusted you with a dowry of two and a half million credits. You were supposed to be setting up our entry into high society. Making the arrangements for us to be treated like nobility.”

  Instead, the money had paid for his escape into low society—covering the complex process of building a brand-new history for Ax Turner and making the connections he’d needed to keep out of her sight. “I’m willing to pay you back.”

  She stopped, tilted her head. “Fine, have it deposited in my account by morning.”

  “Yeah... I don’t have it on me. But I’ve just about finished this Great Space Race thing. If I win that, I’ll have the money.”

  She sniffed. “The holovid reality series? You’ve gotten desperate as well as stupid.”

  “It was a smarter move than you think. I mean, it gave me an excuse to keep moving, not get noticed by people. You’d be amazed how similar it is to how I was already living. And I’m apparently good for ratings.”

  “I find it hard to believe you’d be good for anything. I mean I picked you because you were feckless. Utterly without feck. And you agreed because I was way better than anyone you were likely to find on your own. You’d probably end up with some backwater, fringe-born trash.”

  Anger tightened Ax’s nerves, and he opened his mouth to let her know exactly who he’d found for himself, but tipping Gobnait off to Kayana’s existence was the quickest way to put her in danger. A low rumble rolled through the ship and the deck lurched under his feet. He caught himself against one of the side walls and only barely prevented cracking his skull against one of the elaborate sconces Gobby used for lighting. Before he could recover, the double doors flew open, and one of the guards ran in, eyes wide in terror. “We’re under attack!”

  Nineteen

  Kayana charged from the hall from the hangar bay, taking a moment to unfurl the holographic win
gs from the back of her armor. A favorite tactic throughout the history of Malebranki warfare, the smoke and fire flapping to virtual life behind her was a perfect way to invoke fear. Al’kheri’s first maxim had always been clear on that behalf—Strike only when you must, but do so with savagery and fear. A terrified enemy will think twice about resistance.

  It certainly worked against the rabble Gobnait employed. The first two guards screamed when they saw her, and her v’tana rejoiced as she snapped the cord of living flame like a whip to send them both scattering.

  “I really don’t understand what I’m doing here,” Berniss said, even as she adjusted the camera angle for a better shot of Kayana’s fury.

  That will be apparent soon enough. “You wanted a great action sequence. Is there a better ratings grab than a single-handed raid on a corporate flagship?”

  The reporter shrugged. “Given that you didn’t sign a contract for red-band coverage, I suppose not. I don’t understand where my other drone went. I had one in reserve in case the one I sent to... You. The other transfer to Altaira’s surface.

  “Think about how much better it’s going to look knowing that you can get hazard pay for this. Oh, and I’m so sorry you can’t sell videos of my bedroom antics.” Kayana let her awareness travel the length of her flame. Whips weren’t the most effective weapons, but when it came to completing the image, they certainly fit the bill. Plus, frankly, it was the most complicated shape she could muster.

  “And the galley that one time,” Berniss added. “If we’re being honest.” Kayana glanced over her shoulder, but the other woman grinned and gave her a thumbs-up. “Look, I don’t watch the footage, but I do have to report on it.”

  Another set of guards came around the corner and finally had enough wherewithal to shoulder their weapons and fire. Kayana dove to one side, and the bulkhead and wall behind her withstood the worst of the attack. The tiny pieces of shrapnel that exploded from the wall failed to penetrate her armor. She tugged her pistol out and returned fire, clipping one of the guards and sending him to the floor. Her whip took care of another, snagging him by the leg and pulling him off balance. The third guard fired again, but his aim was off, and she needed only a heartbeat longer to finish him.

  She strode up and ended the other two before they could beg for mercy.

  Two more guards held their ground in front of a pair of enormous, gaudy double doors. Does any human understand how to design a damned spaceship? She cracked the whip between them, the tip throwing off sparks as it snapped. “You stand between a Daughter of the Nine and her quarry. Think carefully on this.”

  The modulator in her armor gave her voice a sepulchral resonance. She counted to two, and when neither guard responded, she caught one by the neck with the whip and tugged him close, only to shoot him at point-blank.

  That was enough for the second guard, who panicked and fled. She opened the doors and stepped into the oversized chamber beyond. Ax was leaning against the wall, and the relief she felt on seeing him alive was almost enough to cause her to lose control of her v’tana. A woman in a smart business suit with red hair stood halfway up a dais, where an oversized chair waited.

  Kayana scoffed. “Nice throne room.”

  Ax gave an amused laugh from where he had been tossed. “That’s what I said.”

  “It’s a conference chamber!” the redhead yelled. “Stop calling it a throne room.”

  Kayana rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m a daughter of the Houses of G’henna. I know a throne room when I see one. You can call it whatever you want, but face it.” She pointed at the ornate chair that formed a centerpiece of the dais. “That’s a throne. And that makes this a throne room.”

  A sudden movement from one corner made Kayana spin. A woman with short purple hair and a ludicrously large knife charged with a speed that seemed superhuman. Kayana managed to get her arm up in time to block, but the force of the blow knocked her pistol out of nerveless fingers. The other woman kicked it away, sending the weapon spinning across the floor.

  Fine. Hand-to-hand it was. Kayana pushed back, swinging the holographic wings into the other woman’s face. Like most, her opponent flinched for a moment, not sure if the smoke and flames were real. By the time she had recovered, Kayana struck out with the whip.

  Purple blocked with her forearm, catching the flame before it reached her neck. She tugged against the flame, but Kayana snuffed it out. The sudden lack of resistance threw Purple off balance.

  Kayana surged in to deliver a snap kick to the other woman’s midsection. Purple doubled over, and Kayana chased her down with a punch to the jaw that lanced pain all the way back to her elbow. The purple-haired woman staggered forward a step, then sank to her knees in slow motion before collapsing.

  Kayana grabbed the knife from the floor and prepared to make the fight terminal.

  “I think that’s about enough.” Gobnait’s tone contained the kind of authority that made Kayana pause reflexively, and she turned toward the dais. Gobnait had come back the stairs and had one hand fisted in Ax’s hair. The other held Kayana’s pistol to the side of his neck with clear intent. “How about we negotiate.”

  Kayana left the unconscious woman on the floor and took a few steps toward Ax. “That man is wanted by the Nine Houses of G’henna. Turn him over to me, or be destroyed.”

  Gobnait tilted her head, finger tightening on the trigger. “That’s not an ideal start, but I’ve had worse. Here’s my counteroffer. I kill him, you, and whoever’s left on your ship, and then I go back to doing whatever the hell I want.”

  A twinge of fear curled in Kayana’s gut. She had no doubt the woman was capable of it, but at the same time, ship-to-ship weaponry didn’t grow on trees. “Where’s the profit in that?”

  Gobnait blinked. “What?”

  “Exactly that. You kill us, blow up that T-47 yacht I arrived on, and where’s the profit for you?” Kayana tucked the blade in her belt and folded her wings slightly. “It’s not exactly been a cheap trip for you so far.”

  “This one...” Gobnait indicated Ax with the pistol, “I’ve already got a claim on him.”

  “Yes, yes. And the Nine will take that into consideration before they sentence him. As well as whatever money he owes you.”

  “It’s over two million credits, plus lost investments.”

  “And I’m sure you have a fleet of finance people that could tell me about it,” Kayana replied. “But no court in the galaxy recognizes hypothetical earnings.” She checked to make sure Berniss was still safely filming the events from the corner of the throne room. “If you kill him, it means you’ll never see cent one. That’s not a good trade for you.”

  “I think you underestimate how rewarding killing him might be.”

  On that at least, Kayana could agree. “No, I think I have a pretty good idea. I mean, he can be an ass.”

  “Hey!” Ax interjected. Both women glared at him, and he wisely decided to stay silent.

  “So,” Kayana continued. “There’s the very real potential to earn money now, and the satisfaction of knowing he will be taken before one of the harshest courts in the galaxy, for crimes against a Daughter of the Nine.”

  “He never could resist a pretty face.” She chuckled and dug the muzzle tighter against his neck. “How much money are we talking about?”

  “If you release him into my custody, I can offer you one million credits.”

  Gobnait scoffed. “He owes me more than two. I told you that.”

  “Yes, well, he doesn’t have one percent of that currently.” Kayana ticked off the options on her fingers. “So, you could either wait, possibly never regaining your money, or get slightly less than half of it now. You’re clearly a clever person. I imagine you could triple your money within six months.” The tenth maxim. Appeals to vanity are often rewarded.

  Gobnait considered the offer, lowering the pistol as she thought. “How do I know you won’t circle back on the deal? They don’t warn against making deals with the devil for n
othing.”

  Kayana let the barb slide. “If you know anything about the Malebranki, you know that we honor our word. You’ll get your million credits, and barring further provocation from you, there will be no animosity between us.”

  “Where’s the money?”

  “There.” Kayana turned and pointed at the camerawoman in the corner. Berniss gave a cry of surprise, but Kayana strode toward her and tugged the small fob from around her neck. “Octiron has bonded the safe return of this data at one million credits, so long as the reporter is alive. I’ll keep her alive, and you receive the money at any station where Octiron has interests. Which is all of them.”

  Gobnait laughed and pushed Ax to the floor before crossing over to claim the fob. “I accept.”

  Kayana’s uppercut lifted Gobnait off her feet and left her unconscious before the hit landed. She looked down at the drug lord. “I lied.”

  She tossed the fob back to Berniss, who still could only sputter in outrage, and helped Ax to his feet. “We should really be going.”

  Ax stared slack-jawed at Gobnait’s supine form. “You know she’s going to be furious, right?”

  Kayana shrugged. “We can deal with that when it happens. For now, we should run.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Which maxim is that?”

  Kayana grinned, surprised at the warmth his suspicious words kindled in her belly. “Sixty-seven.”

  Twenty

  Ax doubled over and waited until he stopped feeling nauseous from the matter transfer beam, then straightened. Kayana was watching him with concern that he hadn’t earned, and the guilt of it tasted sour at the back of his throat. “Look, I appreciate what you did, but—”

  “Stop.” She held out a hand and helped him down from the platform, and even that brief contact made electricity trace up along his nerves with longing and anticipation. “You’ve had a rough few hours.”