Triton: The Descendants War Book 1

by John Walker

  “I am fine.” Milna waved them down. “He tried to kill me.”

  One of the two stepped over to the dead man, checking his pulse. He held up his hand, thumb down. The crowd went mad, screaming and yelling with such glee she had a hard time not cringing from it. All that noise bothered her. She hated large crowds and standing in front of that one bothered her all the more.

  But instead, she stood tall, looking over them as they adored the murder. These cretins take pleasure in death. Milna never understood the hunger for watching a person lose their life. Her tasks never brought her pleasure. Duty drove her on. They mattered. This creature on the floor was the means to an end. Yet for those here, he represents catharsis from their lives.

  “You’ve won the pot,” someone close to her called. “Collect your winnings.”

  Now to run a big risk. This might be where I fail my mission. Taking all that money and trying to leave alone would’ve been foolish for anyone. Most of the people participating brought friends or relatives to back them up. As she left the arena, making a show of injury, she thought about who might come after her for the cash.

  Someone with more desperation than me. Milna heard about vultures at those events who watched the fights then went after the winners afterward. They’d attack quickly, grabbing them while they were exhausted from the struggle. They’re used to winning too. As long as they come, this will work out.

  The pot that day proved to be plenty of credits to pay one’s lodgings for three months. She feigned disappointment, making a comment that it wouldn’t cover her debts. Stuffing it way, she returned to the cordoned off area where her things were stored in a locker. She changed into grubby clothes, sliding two knives up her sleeves in the process.

  Glancing in a mirror, she smiled at the ghastly face looking back at her. Blood covered her pale cheeks, a black bruise under her left eye gave her some character. She had taken plenty of punishment in the brawl, enough to convince anyone of her desperation rather than total command of her body.

  A facade I hope will pay off shortly.

  “You want an escort?” A big guy at the door muttered as she stepped out. “I can do it for a small fee.”

  “I want nothing from you.”

  Milna didn’t look at him as she headed for the door, making a play at feeling cagey. Most of the crowds had filed out already. The authorities occasionally broke the events up, though they never arrested anyone. Once the action ended, people tended to get out quickly.

  At least those who valued their reputations. Others tried to get time with the winning fighter, to make their acquaintance or even more creepy behaviors. Rumor had it some of the wealthier families had their own underground fighting where they brought strong contenders to compete.

  Often, those involved had no choice in the matter. Milna thought about how to infiltrate those events on a few occasions in the event her division suggested she go after them. The fact they nor the Lord Marshal requested she do it meant they really didn’t care. It must be too minor a thing in the grand scheme of our plans.

  The district where the fights were held tended to be low key. Not the nicest parts of town but with no commerce nearby, few criminals bothered to hang around there. Except for directly after a fight, anyone capable of handling themselves in a brawl would’ve been fine to go for a stroll.

  That day, with money and wealthy idiots trying to leave the area, something would happen. And four blocks from the warehouse, her instincts were right.

  Her ears caught the sound of someone stirring in the alley long before she reached the mouth. She kept walking, doing her best to play like she didn’t notice. Someone charged half a moment before she reached the opening. A man grabbed her, lifting her as he moved then slammed her into the opposite wall.

  “Give me the credits!” He grunted the words, punching her in the gut. She huffed, letting the bag fall to the ground. It burst, sending the tokens scattering. He dropped to scoop them up, stuffing them into his pockets as he worked.

  I have to sell this.

  Milna kneed him in the top of the head. The blow dazed him as he fell flat on his back. His accomplices hadn’t engaged yet but they hustled to his aid just as she dropped her weight on his neck, snapping it in a second. His body convulsed once before expiring.

  “You slag!” The two new additions grabbed her by the arms, dragging her against the wall. Others watched the fight. She knew they were there. Her captors punched her in the gut three times a piece. One slapped her. She cried out, doing her best impression of despair. The sound hadn’t left her before that moment.

  Milna took her beatings in silence the vast majority of the time.

  “You killed him!” The other man shouted. He drew a weapon from his jacket, the metal blade glistening in the low light. “I’ll gut you!”

  Milna writhed out of their grip, fading to the side as he thrust the knife into the wall. It broke on contact. With her free hand, she flicked her wrist to draw her own weapon. The one still holding her got two cuts, one to the side of the neck, the other just under the ribs… precision strikes… the kind that hit vital things with minimal effort.

  As he crumpled, the one with the broken knife faced her. His eyes went wide as he met her gaze. Something like fear came over him. She could tell he was about to flee. I can’t let you run off. This needs to look good. Milna stepped back, intentionally tripping on the body. When she stumbled, he came after her. Ah, that’s all it took to bolster your bravery. Excellent.

  Milna spun to regain her balance, planting the blade in his gut. She slid the back of her free hand along his broken weapon, drawing some of her own blood. As she took him to the ground, she dropped to her knees. Breathing heavily, the body fell away from her and she slipped her weapon back into the folds of her jacket.

  “That didn’t look hard,” a male voice made her stiffen but she didn’t look. “They should’ve known better after watching you fight.”

  “I guess… I guess they didn’t…”

  “You were the one fighting for the debt.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you make enough?”

  “No.”

  “What happens now?”

  “I…” Milna shook her head. “I put them off to the next fight.”

  “Come back here with hopes you might make it happen. All the while your debt increases due to the corrupt system backed by dictatorship and war.” He clicked his tongue. “I can think of a better way. One with the potential to get you out of this mess. But I can’t be sure you’re right.”

  “What do you mean? Who are you? What’re you talking about?”

  “I don’t know if you can be trusted. Or, worse, if you’re even who you say.” He stepped closer, swiping the blood from the back of her hand with a metallic collector. “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we? Don’t worry. I’ll know where you live in a few days. If we can help you, we’ll be in touch.”

  “And if not?”

  “Then I’ll bet on you at the fights. I made a killing today thanks to your skills.” He chuckled. “Seems you did as well. Multiple times.”

  “They had it coming!” Milna grunted. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”

  “And yet you’re so good at it. Sometimes, you have to do what you were born to do. I’m sure you understand.” He turned away. “Have a safe trip home. I’m sure you’ll make it without incident now. Every thief watched that fight. They’ll know you’re not to be messed with. Especially not after that display.”

  “Who are you?” Milna still didn’t look back. She wanted him to maintain his anonymity, to feel like he had an advantage.

  “Jok. That’s all you need to know for now. If we meet again, maybe you’ll get some more. Maybe we’ll become friends. Or maybe you’re not who you let on and will be forgotten quickly. Who knows? The universe is a strange place.” He started walking. “Goodnight, warrior. I hope we meet again.”

  Me too.

  Milna collected all the money, stuffing it back i
n the bag before shuffling down the street. She wasn’t entirely sure who she got an in with. Criminals, smugglers, pirates… they all led to the Prophet. They were the only types capable of transporting his people without the military knowing about it. The ones who might be helping him.

  For a price? I guess I’ll see.

  Either way, they had resources and a need for solid people. She felt like she had proved that out in the street brawl, let alone the fighting in the arena. The next step was making it through their makeshift vetting process. It would not be particularly hard. What they’d find would intrigue them.

  After that, it was selling the lie in person again. She felt confident she had what it took. Fortunately, the Lord Marshal gave her the freedom to operate in any way she saw fit. Otherwise, she’d be facing some serious criminal prosecution. Four deaths in less than an hour.

  And I’m only getting started. How many more bodies will lead to the Prophet?

  She honestly didn’t care.

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  Humanity has long explored mysteries of their past. From the theories of Atlantis to the fabled stories of Greek Gods, most had been dismissed as fantasy and legend. When humanity discovered ‘the Orb’, such fairy tales came a little closer to having some potential truth. Even scratching the surface of the knowledge contained within this ancient technology granted an understanding of faster than light travel and a wild number of other luxuries.

  Employing this newfound knowledge, humanity built the Gnosis, a highly advanced starship capable of long range travel and self-sufficient exploration. They would visit other solar systems, departing as pioneers into the unknown. But as excitement built with the people of Earth and the journey drew near, an alien race arrived in Sol, intent on stealing the Orb.

  Now, with a hostile first contact initiated, humanity is thrust into universal conflict, one where other beings vie for powerful artifacts spread throughout the galaxy. As they conduct their first interstellar battle, they find themselves drawn into an intrigue they do not understand but must engage for if they do not, they may well face an opponent they cannot defeat.

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