by Ben Hale
Ero stared at the girl and then burst into a laugh. “And that’s how I win.”
Skorn glowered at her and then rotated back to the controls. “Just take her to the others.”
“Don’t be sour,” Ero said as he poked his brother in the shoulder. “But I will take what I am owed.”
Skorn grunted and shrugged away from Ero. “Dragorn is going to own all of it, so it’s not like it will matter.”
“Disgruntled isn’t a good look on you,” Ero said as he exited the bridge.
When the door shut, the girl said, “You bet trillions of glint on me? Why?”
“Why not?” Ero shrugged as he guided her back down the corridor. “What we’re doing will probably get us killed anyway, so he might not have to pay. He’s just angry because he was wrong about you—and he’s not often wrong.”
She didn’t respond as they threaded through bulkheads. When they reached the other slaves, Ero activated the riser. “Everyone to the lower compartments. We’ll reach our destination in a few days. Until then, I’m appointing this one as your overseer.” He motioned to the branded girl.
“Me?” She flinched as if she’d been struck in the face.
“Get them in place and fed,” Ero said, deciding in that moment to call the girl Brand. “You’ll find a few crates of horg in the cargo bay. I think.”
“What do you want me to do then?”
Ero shrugged. “I guess you can clean the ship. It certainly needs it.”
The others shifted to stand on the riser, a circle of glass large enough to lower and move crates from the upper deck to the lower. One by one they moved to the lower deck, until finally Ero and Brand descended to join them.
A long corridor extended straight up the belly of the ship, with the cargo bay on the left and storage rooms on the right. Other secret compartments were hidden beneath the decking, carefully shielded to prevent discovery even by Imperial scan.
The curved walls were covered with grime and carried a faint, unidentifiable reek. Ero pointed the slaves to the cargo bay, and the gray-haired woman opened the bulkhead door, allowing the others to file inside. Long and lined with seracrete supports, the cargo bay was mostly empty except for a handful of double beds and the silver crates commonly used to transport goods. Ero watched them enter and then shut the door. Then he pointed the branded girl to a different compartment.
“You should find the horg in that compartment,” he said. “If it’s not there, Telik will probably feed you when we arrive.”
“Thank you,” she said.
The sincerity in her voice caused Ero to turn and regard the girl. The others had all gone into the cargo bay, but she stood, as resolute as ever. He assumed she must be about sixteen, but she had the carriage of a Primus. He found the image fascinating, and a touch disconcerting.
“Just make sure they’re fed,” Ero said.
He turned and stepped onto the riser, but she called out to him.
“What if they need—”
“Am I your mother?” Ero snapped. “Just figure it out. An overseer doesn’t ask inane questions to her owners.”
She looked to the floor, a habitual response, but she still stood rigid, not slumped. Annoyed at his own irritation, Ero activated the riser and ascended to the upper deck. Then he returned to the bridge.
He sank into the seat and took over piloting while Skorn retreated to his own quarters to beamcast Dragorn. Ero shifted in his seat like a burr had formed in the seracrete, but the minutes dragged into hours before he realized why. He felt guilty.
“She’s just a slave,” he said to himself.
The statement did not lessen the needle of guilt. Annoyed at himself, he was reminded that she would soon be owned by Telik, who would probably kill her in an experiment. Ero recalled his mother’s words when he was young.
“Never get attached to slaves. They don’t live long, and they don’t matter.”
For the first time, the thought seemed as cold as the space through which they flew. With difficulty, he rejected the guilt and focused on the controls. Their plan was just coming together, and it wouldn’t be long before he’d get to see the indigenous life on the forgotten world with his own eyes. A smile crossed his face at the prospect, and the branded girl was finally forgotten.
Chapter Seventeen
As the hours dragged by on their ship, Ero quickly grew bored. By necessity, they traveled through deep space, avoiding the heavily trafficked hyperlight lanes used by House and Empire shipping vessels.
Ero spent most of the time on the bridge or in his quarters, deviating only to adjust the gravity drive that started to wobble. He spoke with Skorn often, the two mostly talking about their plans. By the second day, Ero was ready for a break. Fortunately, a distraction appeared in the form of a blinking light in his quarters.
He frowned when he noticed who had sent the message, wondering if he should accept it at all. It had been almost a decade since he’d seen the woman, or even spoken to her, and a conversation did not sound appealing. Despite his hesitation, he could not resist tapping the floating light, expanding the holo into letters.
We need to speak. In person. Come alone.
The message was almost a command, and it came with a set of coordinates and access codes. He reached out to delete the message, his hand hovering over the symbol that would remove it. But ultimately he couldn’t deny his own curiosity, so he left his quarters and returned to the bridge, where Skorn was directing two slaves to repair a section of conduit that had begun to leak light.
“I have an errand,” Ero said. “Are we close enough to any World Gates that I can use?”
Skorn looked up from where he was watching the slaves. “We’re already in the Outer Rim, but I think Grenedal is in range for the next few hours. Then we’ll be in empty space for another two days.”
“I’ll be back in two hours.” Ero turned to depart, but Skorn’s voice gained a trace of suspicion.
“Where are you going?”
“Just need a break,” Ero said evasively.
Skorn grunted as if he didn’t believe him, and Ero managed a disarming smile. Then he made his way down the corridor to the Gate chamber. On the way, he spotted Brand cleaning a wall. On impulse, he called out to her.
“Come with me.”
She dropped the rag and stood. “What do you need?”
“I need you to annoy someone.”
Confused, she glanced to the gray-haired slave, who shrugged. But Ero was already turning away. He opened the Gate Chamber by passing a hand over the door crystal. The door slid open, and the room brightened at his entry.
Circular and domed, the Gate chamber was a small one. The arch at the center, made of the distinct black material that allowed for the formation of a portal, was technically tall enough for a dakorian. Or at least a short one. To the side, a control panel was powered by a dedicated crystal that linked to the primary ship’s cortex.
He turned the crystal at the center, and a holo appeared above the panel. He touched the search rune, and the ship’s cortex sought any nearby World Gates. In the heart of the Empire, such an action would fill the hologram with tens of thousands of possible destinations, but this time there was only one, a distant blinking dot close to the end of Nova’s range. He tapped the world on the hologram and it expanded to show Grenedal, a world once owned by Bright’Lor before their fall, but it had since changed hands to Kel’Ray, and then Thorn’Vall—although that was in dispute.
A globe appeared above the control panel, the holo flickering and faded, indicating the age of the Gate cortex. Grenedal was a farming world, with giant mechanized farms covering the arable continents. A few dozen Gates were marked on the holo, but he selected one that was out of the way and rarely used.
Brand wiped sweat from her forehead. “Should I go change?”
He eyed her dirty and wrinkled clothing. “No. What you’re wearing is perfect.”
Ero activated the Gate, and silver light flowed inside t
he arch, smoothing out when it connected. Ero advanced to the Gate and stepped through, exiting onto an open platform.
It was night, but the world of Grenedal boasted semisentient plant life that glowed in a variety of colors. Iridescent blue, green, and purple veins were visible in large leaves and towering trunks. When built into furniture, the wood retained the glow.
“Where are we?” Brand asked.
“Grenedal,” Ero said absently.
“It’s beautiful.”
He noticed her awed expression. “Have you never been to another world?”
She shook her head. “I was bought as an infant. I spent my entire life on Verdigris.”
“She never sold you?” He was surprised. Slaves tended to move, especially attractive young females.
Brand tapped her tattooed wrist. “I don’t think she could.”
“You should count yourself lucky for what you’re about to see.”
“What?”
“You’ll see.”
The Gate platform connected to a small village, with more warehouses than homes. A Cavron-class transport vessel rested on a nearby landing pad, so named for the giant bulbous cargo hold extending from the rear of the ship. Several hundred slaves loaded large crates onto the ship.
The Gate platform was empty except for a single krey sitting at a control station. He didn’t even bother moving his boots from the panel or stopping the game he was playing on his holoview.
“Destination?” the operating krey called without looking up.
“Valana,” Ero replied.
“That capital of the Empire?” Brand asked.
He couldn’t help but grin at her excitement. “Like I said, you should count yourself lucky.”
“What district?” the operator asked.
“Throne.”
The operator’s eyes widened. “I’ll need an authorization code.”
Ero gave him the crystal he’d brought, and the krey stood. He inserted it into the socket at the center of his panel. Then he selected the destination, nodding as it blinked green to indicate it had been connected.
“I’ve never been to Throne.” A trace of awe crept into the man’s voice. “What is your business?”
“Private.”
“I’ve visited Valana a few times,” the krey continued. “But only to the Diamond Towers. I’ll never forget the sights and sounds to that place, and what food.” His sigh was wistful. “Have you ever eaten at the—”
“I don’t like to visit Valana.”
The krey looked disappointed, but Ero didn’t spare him a backward glance. There had been a time when he’d loved the Diamond Towers, the district of Valana reserved for a single purpose: the spending of glint. But that had been back when he’d been the Primus of Kelindor, a prestigious rank with glint to spare.
He recalled the bright edifices, the foods that glowed in the night, the krey women dressed in revealing cloaks, who had hung on his words as if he were the Emperor himself. The paths that curved in horizontal spirals, the gravity warped so buildings were up, down, and sideways. The sports and games, where he’d excelled beyond any in his House, garnering praise and attention.
“Wait.” The operating krey cocked his head to the side. “I recognize you. You’re Ero Bright’Lor. I saw your House fall on the vids a decade ago.” He smirked. “I hope you like living like the rest of us.”
“How old are you?” Ero asked.
The krey straightened. “Four thousand years.”
He was young and had probably just finished his required training by the Empire before being returned to his House, where he’d been assigned to operate a Gate, one of the lowest occupations for a krey.
“Would you like to reach four thousand and one?” Ero asked.
His eyes widened. “Is that a threat?”
“Just a question.” Ero’s voice was mild, but his sharp blue eyes were clear, and the krey swallowed.
The operator fumbled for the rune that activated the Gate, and silver light flowed inside the arch. It sealed across and rippled, reflecting Ero, Brand, and the operator, as well as the Cavron transport in the background.
Ero remained in place, holding the gaze of the operator until he finally looked away. Then Ero turned to the arch and teleported to Valana, the capital planet of the Krey Empire, home of the Emperor himself. Brand was just a step behind.
He exited onto another open platform, this time floating in the skies above the Throne district of Valana. Flanked by a pair of dakorians, the operating krey greeted Ero.
“Welcome to Valana. Can I help you . . .?”
Her voice trailed off as she noticed Brand. With her blond hair in disarray, her clothing rumbled and sweaty, and her ferox brand on her throat, she looked terrible compared to the pristine slave woman standing behind the krey operator. Brand didn’t seem to notice the attention and stepped to the edge of the platform, her eyes wide.
Ero joined her and surveyed the stretch of city that extended to the horizon in all directions. He found himself pleased at her response. It reminded him of his own visit to Valana when he’d been a child.
“First time to Valana?” he asked.
“First time anywhere,” she said. “It seems . . . bigger.”
“It is,” he said. “Because Valana isn’t a planet.”
“We’re on a space station?” She looked up into the sky. “There’s no star. But that must mean . . . is the sun inside Valana?”
Impressed by her intelligence, he smiled. “It’s true.”
He checked his holoview for the relative time and found that he was late for his meeting. But not enough. Leaning against the rail, he launched into a detailed description of Valana.
He described how moon-sized dampeners on the underside of Valana converted the sun’s gravity, heat, and light into power. Like one giant gravity drive, the sun fed power to buildings, ships, and a ring that wrapped around the city. Called the Halo, the rings gradually rotated around Valana.
Brand stared up at the ring. “Are there mountains up there?”
“And oceans,” Ero said. “The Halo has its own gravity, atmosphere, and ecosystem. They built it out of the planets in the system, and trillions of shipments of seracrete.”
The clouds below their floating platform parted, revealing a dense forest. Great structures, some spired and twisting, others squat and pyramidal, dotted the trees. The girl leaned out so far Ero wondered if she would topple over the railing.
“What are those?” She pointed to the buildings.
“Valana has six districts,” Ero said. “We’re in Throne, occupying the northern pole. It has the Emperor’s estate and the palaces for each of his children.”
“Those are palaces?” she asked.
“For each of the black-eyed bloodlines,” he said. “This district is restricted, as is Vornblade, the military district. The Pillardrome is the legislative and judicial seat of power for the Krey Empire, and then the Diamond Towers district, which is filled with lovely shops, delicious restaurants, and a never-ending line of deviant delights.”
“Your destination?” the operator called, obviously annoyed at being ignored.
“Melrenda’s palace,” Ero said over his shoulder.
The krey glanced between the disheveled slave and Ero, his eyes dropping down Ero’s robes, noting the worn cloak and boots. Hardly the latest fashions, which the krey obvious favored. Dressed in a green cloak with silver threaded into the lining, and holographic runes shimmering across the fabric, the operator’s attire looked every bit as ridiculous as any of the other trending fashions. It didn’t help that his hair was bright orange.
“I’ll need a coding crystal,” the operator said.
Ero fished the crystal with the access codes he’d been given and tossed it to the operator. The operator almost dropped it in surprise but managed to catch it before it dropped.
“Is there anything else you require?” Ero said, letting his voice drip with sarcasm.
The kre
y scowled at his overly light tone. He activated the crystal and pointed to the smaller Gate on the opposite end of the platform. The silver light flowed together, and Ero advanced to it, abruptly reluctant. As if understanding, Brand lowered her voice.
“Who am I here to annoy?”
“Someone whom I despise.”
He stepped through the Gate and exited onto an interior porch of one of the many city palaces. He lifted his eyes to the elegant spiraling, which wrapped around the interior structure and emitted a faint green glow.
Every House sought to marry their children to Imperial descendants, hoping their children would be born with the rare black eyes and be joined to the Emperor’s House.
Melrenda’s palace extended two miles into the starry sky. Shaped like a giant spiral, the palace contained a network of gardens on the interior, with fountains, streams, and waterfalls that gurgled their way to the base. The Gate platform overlooked one of the gardens, where young krey cavorted in the waters while slaves attended to their needs. Dakorians hovered on the outskirts, for even here, in the palaces, krey nobles lived under the constant threat of assassination.
“Ero.”
He rotated to find a krey woman exiting a white seracrete door at the edge of the platform. Statuesque and wearing a robe of flowing white, highlighted in regal purple, she resembled Melrenda herself. Like all those born to the Imperial line, her eyes were pure black. Her beauty had given her many advantages, affording her a pick of husbands throughout the Empire. Her choice in Bright’Lor had been praised by many, until the House had fallen.
Ero kept his distance but nodded in greeting. “Hello, Mother.”
Chapter Eighteen
Out of the corner of Ero’s eye, he noticed Brand struggling to contain her shock. She failed spectacularly. Ero relished her dismay and his mother’s sneer when Brand drew her attention.
“I told you to come alone,” she said.
Ero motioned to his mother. “This is Hellina, my mother. As you can see, she’s rather forceful.”
“You’re introducing a member of the royal line to a slave? And is that a ferox brand I see?” Hellina’s black eyes somehow darkened, and her Bloodwall drifted into view, gliding out from behind a pillar.
