by Ben Hale
“Are you lost?” Reklin demanded. “We’re in the same army!”
“There’s no need for a show,” Dagger said, motioning to the room. “You won’t find any vid recorders here.”
Reklin risked scanning the cave, and the dakorian was right. Not a single vid crystal—floating or mounted—was visible. It was a darkroom, out of sight from the millions of viewers, rumored to exist yet never proved.
“What do you want?” Reklin asked.
“You,” Dagger said with a dark smile.
Reklin noticed a glowing green tattoo on his shoulder. The fact that it was still luminescent revealed it had been marked within the last twenty-four hours, meaning he was still under the drug’s effects.
“You don’t want to do this,” Reklin said. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“You’re a glintmonger,” Dagger spat. “And you made me look like a whelp.”
“Not to the public.”
“You think I care about them?” Dagger shouted. “They’re just glint. But what you did to me in the battle ready room was unforgivable.”
“I wounded your pride,” Reklin said. “Walk away before I wound your body.”
“Oh, I’ll walk away.” Dagger’s smile showed a broken tooth. “After the display you put on, I wasn’t stupid enough to corner you alone.”
Stumpy, Stupid, Storgid, and Broken Horn appeared from the entrance tunnel, all nursing injuries caused by Reklin. He backed into a corner, eyeing the distance as they formed a half circle.
“There’s still time for you to survive this,” Reklin said quietly.
Broken Horn laughed. “Look at him, an old hornless thinks he can handle five professional fighters.”
“You don’t know what you’ve cornered,” Reklin said.
“We know exactly what we have,” Stupid sneered.
Footsteps pounded above, and a moment later, Blackhorn himself came down the slope, his advance cautious. Other footsteps raced above, but they mounted and then faded, indicating they did not know of the entrance to the darkroom.
For the first time, Reklin met the eyes of the first-ranked dakorian. The fighter stood at the entrance to the cave, his hammer in his hand, still bloodied from his latest kill.
“So you’re part of this as well?” Reklin asked.
Blackhorn remained silent, his eyes flicking to the others.
Dagger licked his lips. “Remember,” he said to Blackhorn, “you get the public bounty. House Torn’Ent pays us the secret bounty.”
Reklin realized why they were in the room. Darkrooms were illegal on Dedliss, but they were controlled by the wealthy oddsmakers when they needed a quiet death. Reklin and his unit had become a thorn, and apparently the oddsmakers had decided they were glintmongers. In the darkroom, Reklin could not change his rank, because oddsmakers would never see any actions. The only way he was leaving the room was as a corpse.
“You’ll get your portion,” Blackhorn said.
He did not take his eyes from Reklin, who shifted to the side of the room, putting a wall at his back.
Stupid began to spin his hammer, his lip curling with excitement. “What are we waiting for? Let’s kill him.”
He darted in, and Reklin stepped into the dakorian’s reach. Stupid tried to compensate for the sudden shift, but Reklin brought his broken blade upward, the weapon biting through bone and flesh, carving the dakorian from stomach to throat. His eyes wide in shock and death, the dakorian tumbled to the cavern floor and did not move. The sudden kill drew a gasp from Dagger and his cohorts.
“He didn’t even land a blow,” Storgid breathed.
Reklin didn’t wait for them to recover. He charged Broken Horn, ducking a hasty swipe and cutting him across the gut. Keeping his momentum, he kicked off the wall and used the hilt of his blade to strike Storgid in the spine. He was dead before he his body hit the floor. As Dagger and Stumpy charged, Reklin swung his blade with all his strength and, at the last moment, twisted the blade flat. Like a giant maul, it struck the blade protruding from Dagger’s chest, driving it into his body up to the hilt. Dagger sucked in his breath and stumbled backward, shock and pain twitching through his features, before he hit the wall and slumped to the floor.
With a shout of anger, Stumpy aimed his crackling hammer at Reklin’s chest. Reklin lunged, driving his broken blade into the hammer head to pierce the seracrete plating and embedded rod.
The hammer detonated, knocking Stumpy into the wall. He bounced off and fell to his knees, sizzling pieces of his hammer embedding into his flesh. Reklin was thrown backward but managed to keep his feet. In the smoke from the explosion, Stumpy stumbled upright and stared in horror at the four dead dakorians strewn about the floor of the darkroom.
“I did warn you,” Reklin said.
Stumpy bared his teeth in a snarl of defiance—and then fled. He sprinted to the exit and tried to slip by Blackhorn, who casually flicked his hammer, the weapon landing at the joint between neck and bone armor, crushing Stumpy’s chest. The fighter went down without a sound, his body falling into the sloped tunnel.
In the ensuing silence, Reklin faced Blackhorn. He held his weapon out and ready, his body tense, his balance on the balls of his feet. The five fighters had been no match for a Shard captain, but Blackhorn was a breed apart.
“You’re no glintmonger,” Blackhorn finally said.
“And you’re no outcast,” Reklin replied, keeping his distance and eyeing the gap.
If he could get inside the dakorian’s reach, he might stand a chance. But Blackhorn remained in place, his gaze fixed on Reklin until a long boom echoed in the arena, signifying the end of the War Hunt. Reklin did not lower his blade.
“Why use the darkroom?” he asked.
“They thought it was for you.” Blackhorn shrugged. “But I used it to get to them. Dakorians that act with such dishonor deserve to die in silence.”
“Agreed,” Reklin said. “I take it House Torn’Ent wanted to be rid of me?”
“Sometimes they just want a dakorian dead,” the soldier said.
“Does this mean we are not enemies?”
Blackhorn actually smiled. “We never were. But don’t think your skill exceeds my own or that I will be merciful in the future. I’ve killed thousands of dakorians better than you. Even Shard captains.”
Blackhorn tapped his hammer to his right horn, a mark of respect and recognition. Then he sheathed his hammer on his back. Reklin still did not turn his blade aside.
“Why not kill me here?” Reklin asked.
“Your skill deserves respect,” Blackhorn said, “and it would be a disservice to kill you in a darkroom. Know this, the oddsmakers believe you are a glintmonger, and every future contest will be a bounty on your head.”
“Will you help me?”
Blackhorn’s expression turned apologetic. “I’m afraid I cannot. The next time we meet under a vid crystal, I’ll take your life, and that of your friends.”
“Why?” Reklin asked. “Why are you here? You obviously have enough glint to buy the remainder of your contract. Why stay in the Crucible?”
“Because, like you, I don’t just fight for myself.”
“But you would still be my enemy?”
In a burst of motion, Blackhorn drew his hammer and fired. The ion bolt blasted over Reklin’s shoulder, so close it sliced across his check, drawing blood before it hit in the cave wall. Bits of stone pelted Reklin’s back.
“You are just a pile of glint, waiting to be acquired,” Blackhorn said.
His voice was so cold it sent a shudder through Reklin’s back, and Reklin decided Blackhorn was no ally. He had his own purpose, and Reklin was just another in the long line of dakorians to be killed. Without another word, the first-ranked fighter turned and ascended the slope.
Alone in the cave, Reklin looked at the bodies of the dead throughout the room, finally understanding. Blackhorn had agreed to the assassination plan to lure Dagger and his allies into a darkroom and use them to a
ssess Reklin’s true skill. A formidable adversary.
Reklin exited the holographic wall into the arena, and dozens of vid crystals converged on his position. Blood from his foes spotted his form, and his blade had obviously been used to kill. But he had survived by seconds, and as more vid crystals appeared, Reklin realized Blackhorn was right. The conflict was just beginning.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ero watched the holo of the experiment on Brand for the ninth time, grimacing at the agony on the girl’s features. The white light flowed from her body, blinding the recording crystal to pure white. Glass shattered, and when the light faded, she looked just as she had before the experiment.
Ero returned the holo to the moment she had been placed in the cell and watched it again. Telik had said her body had not been changed, except to correct certain genetic flaws. But what he wanted, stronger or faster slaves, had not occurred. So what had happened? And where did the light come from?
Telik was a scientist, one of the most intelligent krey that Ero had ever met, but his focus made him blind. Telik assumed the light had come from the procedure, but Ero had seen the vid. The light came from inside the girl’s skin, brighter even than an ion bolt.
The ship slowed, and Ero ended the vid. Rising, he exited his quarters and made his way to the bridge, entering just as they dropped from hyperlight. In the distance, a large, reddish world approached.
“I miss Dedliss,” Ero said, flopping into the second chair. “So many conflicts, life hanging in the balance, great victories.”
“Which is the reason I should be the one to find our dakorians,” Skorn said.
Surprised, Ero shifted to look at his brother. “Why? I’ve been to Dedliss far more than you. I know the oddsmakers and the Crucible better than most, and know how to pick a good fighter.”
“We don’t need a fighter. We need someone cheap.”
“I can find cheap.”
Skorn gave him an annoyed look. “And the last time I sent you on your own, you made a deal to turn our harvest world into a world of augments.”
“Was that gratitude I hear?”
Skorn rolled his eyes. “You drive me crazy sometimes, you know that?”
“I know,” Ero said.
Skorn gave a sour chuckle. “I admit your plan is brilliant, and it does seem like Telik has done the impossible, but I’m still not sure I want to draw that much fire from the Empire. Our plan may be illegal, but creating augmented slaves is forbidden.”
“The punishment is still the same if we get caught,” Ero said. “Either way, we end up dead.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“Did you tell Dragorn the change in plan?”
“I think I’ll wait until we have confirmation on an augmented slave,” he said. “I don’t want to give him another reason to hate you.”
“You’re going to tell him it was my idea?”
“Of course,” Skorn said. “If it works, he might actually forgive you for Kelindor.”
Ero leaned back in the copilot’s chair, pleased by Skorn’s support. Alliances were always tenuous in the Empire, but Ero and Skorn’s was unbreakable.
Skorn turned their ship into orbit, avoiding the space station where most ships were docked. The three giant spheres were connected by long tubes. The station allowed ships to dock for an extended stay and offered prime viewing for the contests that took place in the weightlessness of space.
“I still think I can find a dakorian to suit our needs,” Ero said.
“You did have a gift for picking victors,” Skorn said. “But we both know that if you went down there, you would make a wager.”
Caught, Ero grinned. “I’ve quadrupled glint before.”
“And you’ve lost before.” Skorn powered down the gravity drive. “This time, we can’t risk it. I’ve been watching the latest contests and chosen several candidates in our price range.”
“I guess,” he reluctantly agreed.
“I’ll be back in two days.”
“What do you want me to do while I wait?” Ero protested.
“Take the ship outside the system and come back when I have bought a contract.”
“You want me to sit and do nothing?”
Skorn smiled as he slipped out the door. “You could train with your slave. Isn’t that why you kept her?”
Ero leaned back and put his boots on the control panel while he watched the planet below. Even from orbit, many of the larger arenas were still visible, such as the mighty Deadlands, the arena where hundreds fought on either side. Ero recalled one contest where only slaves had fought, most of them having never even touched a weapon. It had been one of his favorite contests, but now the memory carried a sour note, and he found he’d lost his taste for slave violence.
Brand appeared in the opening. “Did I hear the Gate power up?”
Ero waved to the planet. “Skorn’s on Dedliss looking for dakorians with cheap contracts.”
Brand hesitated and then entered the bridge to claim the pilot’s seat. As she sank into the chair, he stared at her, but she did not exit the chair. He chuckled at her courage.
“I’m supposed to punish you for even entering the bridge, let alone for sitting in the pilot’s seat.”
“Are you going to?”
He seriously considered the option. The girl had gotten increasingly bold ever since she’d started training with an energy blade, and a jolt with the inflictor would put her back in place. But the prospect reminded him of what she’d endured in the experiment, and he couldn’t do that to her. For any reason.
“How long is he going to be gone?” Brand asked.
“Probably a couple of days.”
“So we’re just supposed to wait?”
“I’m supposed to take the ship outside of the system so we don’t draw attention to ourselves.”
“A sound strategy.” She smiled faintly. “But I didn’t take you as one to obey orders.”
“What gave you that idea?” He couldn’t stop the smile.
She looked to the ceiling and said. “I think . . . everything since the day you bought me.”
He nodded sagely. “Being rebellious is a difficult persona to cultivate. But you already know that.”
She smiled faintly. “We could practice with blades. I’ve gotten much better in the holo room.”
“I know. I’ve watched the vids.”
“You’ve been watching me?” She seemed surprised.
“I’m supposed to monitor you for Telik, remember?”
She grimaced and looked away, obviously thinking of the experiment. “Well, I’m not dead yet, so we should do something.”
“I’m not in the mood for blades. Do you want to pilot a ship?”
She swung back, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead. “It’s illegal.”
He rolled his eyes. “Just add it to the list of laws you’ve broken. Besides, I think slave laws are more like suggestions.”
“Are you serious?”
He tapped his chin as if realizing a sudden thought. “You know, since I bought you, I’ve taught you how to use a blade, let you use a holo room, put you through a highly illegal experiment to turn you into an augment, and now I’m offering to teach you to pilot a ship. I think you’re a bad influence.”
“You were already planning the experiment before you met me.” She pointed to him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I don’t get the blame for that.”
“True,” he allowed. “But the rest are all you. I’m beginning to think you really do deserve that brand.”
She laughed, her expression guarded but obviously eager. “Are you really going to teach me to pilot a starship?”
“Only if you want to.”
Pleased with her excitement, he set to teaching her the controls and showed her how to spin the control sphere and power up the drive. Ero reached out and plucked the command sphere from its socket. The lights in the bridge immediately dimmed.
“The command sphere has a u
nique code to each ship, and only this one can activate this ship,” he said. “Remove it, and nothing will operate.”
He touched a few of the power crystals embedded in the panel, but nothing happened. Then he socketed the sphere back into its place, and the lights returned. This time holos appeared above the crystals he touched.
“So it pilots the ship?”
“Most of the time we let the ship’s cortex do the thinking,” he said. “But we direct the broader commands.”
“Can a cortex think for itself?” she asked.
The statement reminded Ero just how little she understood about the Empire. The girl had been kept in the dark about the most basic of krey technology, out of fear she would turn into a ferox. Ero supposed that was probably for the best, considering Brand was the slave most likely to fight her owners and steal a ship. He found that thought amusing.
“Cortex crystals are an echo of krey consciousness,” Ero said. “They can’t think on their own, but they are highly efficient at computing everything from ship energy levels and destinations to the complex calculations needed to run a holo or jump to hyperlight.” He pointed to Dedliss. “Smaller cortexes operate things like the SAW mechs used in the Crucible.”
“So most of the time you let the cortex pilot the ship?” She seemed disappointed.
“For everything except combat.”
“Why?”
“Because as smart as a cortex is, it cannot replicate creativity or ingenuity.”
He showed her how to hold the sphere and rotate it according to their destination. She was a quick study and quickly absorbed how to set a course and then command the cortex to take over their flight. When Ero was finished, he leaned back in his chair and motioned to the controls.
“You know how to fly, so let’s see you fly,” he said.
She passed her hands over the controls, nervous but obviously eager. She activated the gravity drive and turned the sphere, pushing them out of orbit and away from Dedliss. The volcanic world drifted out of sight.
“It’s not as hard as I expected,” she said.
He chuckled at her comment. “Piloting a ship is fairly straightforward. The challenge is when you get into combat.”
