by M. R. Forbes
“It has,” Ruby said. “The ship’s log shows nearly a dozen destinations over the last ninety days alone. They stop for a few days, buy and sell cargo, and then move on.”
“Where were they headed before we came along?” Trinity asked.
One of the planets on the map above them turned bright yellow. “Here,” Keeper said.
The world was at the edge of the border between Thraven’s empire and a second Prophet’s holdings.
“Norqal,” Keeper said. “A world in the Setian Empire.”
“Helk mentioned designated planets where slaves are bought and sold,” Abbey said. “Norqal must be one of them.”
“You know,” Bastion said. “It’s kind of impressive.”
“What is?” Gant asked.
“In our galaxy, we’ve got the Republic and the Outworlds, and we don’t get along. There are twelve empires in the Nephiliat, and Thraven managed to get them all working together. I mean, maybe his methods suck, and slavery definitely sucks, but you can’t deny the accomplishment.”
“I can and will,” Abbey said. “Joining nations through conquest is a hell of a lot easier than doing it with diplomacy. Sure, the Republic and the Outworlds have their skirmishes, but they keep the most populated worlds out of it. Thraven doesn’t give a shit about innocents.”
“To hear Helk tell it, none of the Prophets do.”
“All the more reason to make some trouble.”
“I’d say we’re doing evil so nobody else has to, but I guess in this case we’re the good guys.”
“In case you haven’t figured it out yet,” Abbey said. “We’re always the good guys.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We need intel, and I know a great way to get it.”
19
“What the frag was that?” Quark said, grabbing Don Pallimo’s shoulder.
The Don reached over, taking Quark’s hand in his and lifting it easily away, as though he were swatting away a gnat.
“Self preservation, Colonel,” Pallimo said.
“Really? Because it looked to me like you double-crossed Captain Mann and Abbey Cage at the same fragging time. That asshole burned your crew, Don. I don’t get it?”
They were in the corridors of the Asmodeus, having been transported to the ship in the company of Honorant Freich and his retinue. Quark had been forced to sit opposite Mann and Cage during the ride, trying not to look at them as they looked back at him, the pain of the betrayal obvious. Cage was just like her mom, a real spitfire, kicking and clawing and cursing at the Don for his treachery.
Olus? He was a professional. The Captain stared at the Don, and at him. Tried to read their faces. Mann had to know this wasn’t any of his doing. Maybe he was a bounty hunter, but he was an honorable bounty hunter. He had thought Don Pallimo was an honorable boss before today.
What the hell was going on in this universe?
“He knew who I was, Colonel,” Pallimo replied. “He knew where to find me. More than that, he knew where to find my family. I have children of my own. I keep them away from me, so they don’t come under danger. Well, today they did. It’s not something I can accept.”
“So you turned Cage’s kid over to the guy who's been killing your employees? You can’t win a battle like that, Don. He’ll come back again later, ask you for something else, threaten you again if you don’t comply.”
“What other choice did I have?” Pallimo asked calmly. “It was her child or mine.”
“Shitty short-term thinking,” Quark grumbled.
The whole episode made him sick to his stomach. He didn’t like feeling like dirt. He had done enough of that in his life. That Pallimo had cold-cocked him into screwing over a little girl that trusted in his protection? He wasn’t feeling very good about that.
“Can I go back to my crew now?” Quark asked. “I’m eager to get as far away from here as I can.”
“Not yet, Colonel. You’re still on my payroll, and I still need protection. As you said, Gloritant Thraven isn’t a man that can be explicitly trusted.”
“Apparently, neither are you,” Quark whispered under his breath.
“I heard that Colonel,” Pallimo said, stopping and turning on the mercenary. “Watch your tongue. Cross me, and I can have half of the mercenaries in the galaxy on your ass instead.”
“I don’t give a shit about your money,” Quark said. “Consider the contract canceled, and I’ll be on my way.”
“No, you won’t. You signed an agreement; you’re going to honor it.”
Quark glowered. He had signed a contract, and he did have a reputation to consider. It wasn’t just about him. The Riders depended on him for their living, and to take care of their families. He couldn’t just walk away and leave them high and dry. Splitting on a job would ruin his career and theirs. This bullshit was just one of the many risks with a job like his.
“How long?” he asked.
“The Asmodeus is rejoining Thraven’s fleet. We’ll be released before she goes into FTL. Hang tight, stay close, and you’ll be on your way within the hour.”
An hour. He could handle that. Couldn’t he?
He followed Pallimo to one of the transport tubes. They boarded it, ferried down twenty decks to the belly of the warship.
“Why so long?” Quark asked. “It takes less than a minute to calculate the trip.”
“Part of my agreement with Thraven,” Pallimo said. “I sold him a contingent of drones that he intends to use to track down General Kett’s wayward fleet. They’re being packed and loaded as we speak.”
Quark felt his chest tighten. “You fragging bastard.”
“I told you to watch your mouth, Colonel,” Pallimo snapped. “I know your history. I know you’re a very, very dangerous man.” He paused, staring into Quark’s mechanical eyes. “So am I.”
Quark felt a cold chill wash over him. He had been working for Pallimo for a few years now, and he knew the man had no fear of anything. You didn’t live as long as the Don had by being afraid.
“Bad enough you sold out Mann and Cage,” Quark said. “You didn’t have to profit financially. You probably have more money than you’ll ever be able to spend.”
“I’ll run my business how I see fit, Colonel. Thank you for your feedback.”
They entered another corridor, a long stretch that fed toward the stern.
“Where are we going, anyway?” Quark asked.
“Honorant Freich suggested I take a peek at the engines. He said someone with my expertise might be able to do amazing things with the tech if I have the stomach for it.”
“If you have the stomach for it? What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out together.”
Quark followed him down the corridor, to a room marked for engineering. The door was locked, a guard standing in front of it in a black lightsuit.
“Honorant Freich told me to show you this?” Pallimo said, holding out a medallion to the guard, who glanced at it and then opened the door.
“A magic key?” Quark said.
“To the most secured areas on the ship. Trust and faith, Colonel.”
Quark bit his tongue this time. Mann and Cage had trust and faith, and they got fragged for it. He wanted to ring Pallimo’s neck. This wasn’t the man he had signed up to work for. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t usually so wrong about anybody. He didn’t know who this asshole was.
They entered the engine room. A single tech was there, watching the terminal at the center of the space. He looked up as Pallimo entered.
“You’re Don Pallimo?” he asked.
“I am,” Pallimo replied.
“It’s an honor, sir,” the tech said, bowing his head.
Pallimo raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Quark. “That’s respect, Colonel. You should consider showing some, sometime.”
Quark felt his hands twitch, starting to curl into fists. Was Pallimo taunting him on purpose? Something was wrong. Very wrong. What had Thra
ven done?
“Come, Don,” the tech said, moving toward the back of the chamber, to a heavy door with a small transparency at the center. “Take a look. The power supply inside can produce almost ten times the amount of energy of a high-end Republic reactor, with a minimal use of fully renewable resources.”
Pallimo moved to the door, peering through the transparency. He whistled at the sight. “How is that even possible?” he asked.
“A sample of what we can offer you, Don,” the tech said. “Honorant Freich can provide the schematics.”
“This has to be a trick.”
“It isn’t a trick, Don,” the tech replied. “Nephilim technology is far more advanced than our own. Think of how you’ve pushed what we know to the limit. Think about pushing past it.”
Quark leaned to the side, trying to get a look over Pallimo’s shoulder. It took him a few tries, but he managed to sneak a glance at a box in the center of the space, with tubes spreading out from it, reaching across to the walls.
He felt the bile rise in his throat when he saw what they were attached to.
“What the frag?” he muttered, taking a step back.
“Calm yourself, Colonel,” Pallimo said.
“Those are humans in there,” Quark said.
“An interesting choice of fuel source,” the Don said.
“Interesting?” Quark said. “Have you lost your fragging mind?”
“It makes sense,” Pallimo said. “How many billions of humans are there in the galaxy? The power supply would be near limitless.”
“That’s the idea,” the tech said.
Quark couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He felt sick to his stomach. There was no way he could stand here and protect someone who could look at that with such monstrous interest. There was no way he could handle any of it for another second. Riders be damned. Contract be damned. He had done a lot of bad shit in his life, and he was sure he would do more in the future. Even so, he was proud of the fact that he could claim at least some small thread of humanity.
He reached out, grabbing the tech by the throat. A quick twist, a broken neck, and the tech crumpled to the floor.
“You’re all out of your damned skulls,” he said, reaching to his hip and drawing his sidearm. “You worst of all, Don. Your kids don’t have frag all to do with this. You’re a damned psycho.”
Pallimo smiled grimly. “Want to know a secret, Colonel?” he said.
“What?”
“I don’t have any children. They died years ago.”
He lunged toward Quark, who fired four rounds into Pallimo’s chest. They made a sound like metal on metal, tearing away at cloth and revealing armor beneath.
“Want to know another secret before I kill you, Colonel?” Pallimo asked, slapping the gun away with barely any effort.
“What?” Quark repeated.
“So did I,” Pallimo said, his eyes flashing with blue light, revealing this version of him as a synth.
Quark felt something he rarely felt. An emotion he barely even understood.
Fear.
20
Something hit him in the face before he could react, striking him so hard he was thrown backward in the room to slam against the central terminal. He grunted as he hit it, ducking aside just in time to avoid a follow-up strike from Pallimo’s cane. He backed away, circling the synth while it unsheathed the laser cutter hidden inside its cane.
“You’ve been a fragging synth this whole time?” Quark said, crouching into a defensive posture, his eyes keen to Pallimo’s every movement. His mechanical eyes could have told him the man was a fake if he had bothered to look. After watching the first of the fakes get destroyed in the Atrium, he had made the stupid mistake of believing this one was the real deal.
“For over one hundred years, Colonel,” Pallimo said. “A reconstruction of the original Don Pallimo, coded with one primary directive. Grow the company, become the biggest.”
“And screw anyone you had to in the process?”
“I have taken good care of my employees,” Pallimo said. “You can’t say I haven’t taken good care of you.”
“Until Thraven. Until Cage. What changed?”
Pallimo stabbed at him with the cane. He slipped aside, using the terminal as cover.
“The galaxy changed. A new power is seizing control. I can read the stars, Colonel. I can see where this ends. Either you join the Nephilim, or you die.”
“What about the bullshit with Thraven knowing who you are and where you live? Was that all a lie?”
He backed away as Pallimo vaulted the terminal, stabbing at him. He tried to grab the synth from behind, but it was too fast, spinning and nearly eviscerating him. He rolled back, drawing his knife from his side. The Don moved in again, staying close.
“He knows the original Don Pallimo is dead. His operatives have captured my mainframe. I can’t afford to lose everything, Colonel. I’ve worked too hard.”
Pallimo attacked, his cane coming in once, twice, three times. Quark was able to block each maneuver, staying behind the terminal to keep space between them.
“Gamlin?” Quark asked.
Pallimo’s head shook slightly, causing Quark to pause. The synth was fighting him, but at the same time, he had been in enough fights to know the machine was pulling its punches. Thraven was holding the history of the Crescent Haulers, of Amazing Things, of Don Pallimo and all that the man had ever been hostage. It was acting funny because it was acting, trying to play both sides.
It wanted him to beat it, but not before it told him what he needed to know.
He nearly smiled at the realization, but he held back. There was a chance Freich was watching this. Or maybe even the Gloritant Asshole himself.
He went on the offensive, lunging at Pallimo. The synth moved just a little too slowly, allowing him to get a hand on its cane. He grappled with it, both fighting for control.
“Where?” he asked, at the same time he slammed his head into the side of Pallimo’s head.
The synth rocked back, losing its grip on the cane.
“Outworlds,” Pallimo mouthed. “Oberon.”
The location surprised him, but he didn’t let it show. He wrenched the cane back, flipping it in his grip. The synth put on a good show, trying to defend itself as Quark renewed his assault. He whipped the laser cutter in and out, smacking the Don on the shoulders and arms, leaving deep cuts each time.
“They’re coming for you, Colonel,” Pallimo said, backing up another step. The synth tripped on the dead tech, stumbling and reaching out to balance itself. It was an intentional maneuver, made to set up the kill.
Quark didn’t hesitate. He swung the cane, the cutter reaching into and through Pallimo’s neck, slicing neatly through fake flesh, metal, and wires. The head tumbled to the ground, clear liquid spilling from it. The body stayed upright for a moment, reaching for him. He backed away, turning to the exit as it fell. The guard was already there, coming at him with a nerve stick, unwilling to fire his weapon inside the room of delicate equipment.
Pallimo had given him the information he needed. Now it was his job to get out of this alive. Easier said than done, but he had been in tough scrapes before.
He smiled as the guard approached, his eyes relaying extra input to him. Distance, angle, velocity. Every muscle that tensed was captured by his optics, giving him a near premonition of how the enemy would attack. When the guard tried to hit him with the nerve stick, he was already a step ahead, already outside the strike. He brought the laser cutter down, severing the guard's arm. The man shouted in pain, only to be silenced when Quark’s fist slammed him in the face, knocking him down.
Quark leaned over the man, smoothly severing his head. He had seen what these assholes could do, and he didn’t want this one getting up again.
He found the sheath to Pallimo’s cane on the floor, picking it up and sliding it back over his weapon. Then he grabbed the guard’s sidearm before edging to the doorway and looking out. He switc
hed filters on his optics, infrared picking up incoming tangos nearing the end of an adjacent corridor. He fled the opposite direction, making it to a secondary corridor before they reached engineering.
He had to find Cage and Mann and get all of them away from this shithole.
He had less than an hour to do it.
21
Olus sat in the dark, his teeth clenched, his body stiff with anger. Damn Don Pallimo for turning on them like that. And damn himself for trusting the man. Everything he had ever known of the Don was that he was a man of integrity and honor. A man whose word was his bond, in a galaxy where not enough individuals were willing to give their word.
Nothing. That’s what that bond was worth. Absolutely fragging nothing.
Hayley was gone. Lost to him. Freich had brought them both down to the makeshift cells, but he had returned only a few minutes later to retrieve Abbey’s daughter. Thraven was eager to meet her. That’s what he had said. She was taking another ship back to the Gloritant’s fleet, while he was left here to rot in darkness. Only until the Asmodeus arrived back home. The Gloritant wanted to meet with him as well, probably to tear his fingers off one at a time.
He had failed. That was the bottom line. He was supposed to get Hayley to safety, and he hadn’t. Now Thraven had control of her, and by controlling her, he would be able to manipulate Abbey. All of that work to get her away from Ruche had been for nothing.
Pahaliah had died for nothing.
He cursed again, standing up and slapping the wall at his side. He couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see anything in here. It was a storage compartment of some kind, but the lighting had been removed from it. He wasn’t even completely sure where in the ship he was. He had a feeling the cell might be mobile, resting on a platform that had been shifted from one location to another. For all he knew, he was in the ship’s hold, stacked with the rest of the cargo.
He sat back again, closing his eyes. They were useless in here anyway. He needed to calm down, to stop and think. To rest and recover. Whatever they had stabbed him with, it had weakened the Gift to the point he barely felt it. It had left him weak and hungry. He didn’t expect they would provide anything for him to eat.
