by Justin Sloan
The picture flickered again, and this time Kalan got it right away. It was the battle on Rewot when Kalan and his new Lavkin family had fought the Wandarby cultists. From the angle of the footage and the fact that it was showing the end of the battle, Kalan guessed it had been taken from one of the Shimmer ships that had come to save the Lavkins in exchange for Kalan surrendering to them.
Then the image disappeared, leaving only the black mirror of the darkened screen.
"That moon base footage was difficult to track down," Tuttle admitted. "I paid too much for it. On the other hand, what else am I going to do with my money?"
Kalan sat in silence. What was Captain Tuttle’s game here? What did he really want from them?
As the screen receded back into the desktop Wearl told him, "I’m glad to see you’re a fan of our work. I’m happy to sign autographs, but I don’t much like stalkers."
The captain chuckled. "I’m not here to stalk or to get autographs. I’m here to offer you a choice."
Kalan frowned. "So there will be a punishment. I knew it."
Tuttle shrugged. "Not a punishment exactly, though it is true I can’t have you trying to break out every three days. My guards have better things to do, and it’s really cutting into my overtime budget."
He paused, as if thinking of how to continue.
"I know you two might not see me in the most positive light. Kalan, you probably grew up hating and fearing me, and Wearl, you probably think I’m a cruel boss to your people."
"Accurate assessment," Wearl answered.
"I had good intentions when I got into this job. I took it for one reason, and one reason alone: I believed in justice."
The sincerity with which he said it made Kalan sit up a bit straighter in his chair. Justice—the same cause Valerie’s Elites fought for every day.
The captain continued, "Back in my early days, I really believed that I could bring criminals here, have them pay a fair price based on what they’d done, and reform them while I was at it."
"You don’t believe that anymore?" Kalan asked.
Tuttle shrugged. "I still think it’s possible, but I know it’s the exception rather than the rule. But I want to do a better job. I want to fight for true justice, for those in here as well as those outside. That’s where you two come in."
Kalan waited. If this was all some sort of sales pitch to get him to be a jackboot for this tyrant, there was no way he would buy it. And yet, the Skulla did seem absolutely sincere.
"Here’s the choice I mentioned. First option is, I can lock you both in the isolation block for the rest of your lives." He held up a hand. "Like I said, not a punishment. I respect your work, but there has to be a price for so many escape attempts."
The isolation block was where Sslake had been held, and Kalan had seen it firsthand. It wasn’t a bad place. Each inmate got a rough approximation of a house to call his or her own. But the isolation… Could Kalan handle spending the rest of his life completely alone, only seeing the prisoner who delivered his food for a few moments each day?
Kalan didn’t know what the average lifespan of a Bandian was, but based on the rumors his father had passed to his mother they were a very long-lived people. Kalan could be looking at a few hundred years of solitude.
He wasn’t the most extroverted guy in the world, but could he handle having no interpersonal contact? Never seeing his mother, or Wearl, or even that crazy jerk Zoras?
"What’s the other option?"
Tuttle folded his hands on the desktop and smiled. "The other option is, you work for me. You fight for justice."
There was a long silence.
Kalan finally spoke. "No way. Wearl can answer for herself, but I’m not doing it."
Tuttle nodded, unsurprised. "May I ask why? As I’ve already implied, you’d be helping your fellow prisoners."
"Unless helping them means loading them on a ship and flying that ship to freedom, I’m not interested."
"If Kalan’s out, so am I," Wearl quickly added. "Besides, I can totally break out of your isolation block. Watch and see if I don’t."
Tuttle’s smile widened. "Good. I knew you were beings of integrity. I would have been disappointed if you’d accepted my offer right away." He pressed a button, and once again the screen raised out of his desk. "That isn’t the end of my pitch. It was just the warm-up. I fully believe that once you’ve heard the details of the job, you’ll change your mind."
As Tuttle explained further, Kalan felt himself leaning forward, getting caught up in the man’s story. Despite himself, he was intrigued.
The opportunity to fight for justice—the kind he’d never had as a kid—was too exciting to pass up immediately. And the more he learned, the more interested he became.
Ten minutes later, Kalan and Wearl accepted the job.
CHAPTER FOUR
Vurugu System, Lolack’s Ship
Lolack’s ship had begun firing on the enemy long before reaching them, thanks to the ship’s long-range locking capabilities. The admiral had invited the rest of Valerie’s team to join them at the display. They were still very much out of sight, but riding to what could be the last battle of their lives clearly wasn’t sitting well with Bob.
His eyes were glued to the screen displaying the distant feed as another ship took a hit. From the way his fingers clutched the armchair, Valerie would almost think he’d never been in a battle before. Of course, she knew that wasn’t the case, so it had to be something else.
"You hangin’ in there, Bob?" she asked.
He glanced at her, then Jilla, and leaned over. "It’s not me I’m worried about."
"Oh?"
"You know me, always looking out for the weak."
"I’ll take you out right now," Jilla told him with a glare.
Valerie laughed nervously as she turned back to the display. The ship was moving forward, but it was so large she could almost pretend it wasn’t moving at all. Robin was at her side, smiling as her eyes darted across the display.
"What’s up with the grin?" Valerie asked.
"If this is all they’ve got, we have no reason to worry," Robin explained.
"Big ‘if’ there," Lolack said, turning away from the screen to offer them some alcohol from his home planet. "I’m guessing this is a scouting party—some of their fastest, to see what they’re up against. That means small guns, easy to take out...but nothing compared to what’s next."
Robin shrugged, still grinning. "Well, at least they’re getting their butts kicked for now. Here’s hoping it’ll last." She raised her glass, then took a swig. Her eyes went all buggy, and Valerie laughed at her face as she forced herself to swallow.
"Tough stuff?" Valerie asked, sniffing the drink. It had an almost squash-like smell.
"Not my style, is all."
"Hey, at least our bodies heal from it," Valerie remarked, downing hers in one gulp. Holy shitstains, that was nastier than eating rotten-orange-covered socks. She did her best not to make a face, but it was clear from Lolack’s amused expression that she’d failed.
"Don’t worry, it’s not like many of mine can keep it down either," he reassured her. "The game is, ‘who can show the least amount of discomfort.’ You didn’t do as badly as your friend here."
"Thanks for telling me the rules first." Robin’s tone was heavily sarcastic.
"As if you’d stand a chance anyway," Garcia called from the back of the room. He accepted a glass, and gagged just at the smell. "Shit, never mind. Good for you all, but I’m not touching the stuff."
"Garcia, it’ll be a huge insult if you don’t," Valerie warned him.
"Really?"
"No," Lolack said.
"I meant to me." Valerie grinned. "How dare you?"
Garcia rolled his eyes and passed it to Flynn, who downed his and accepted Garcia’s with a smile. "What? It’s actually pretty good?"
"For the first time ever," Robin said to him, "you worry me."
"You all should be worried about what
’s going on," Arlay interjected, pointing to the screens, "instead of playing around."
"Relax." Lolack smiled.
"Excuse me?" She frowned at him as if he’d just thrown the table across the room. "Those are your fighters out there."
"And our ship is doing its damage," he explained. "There’s not much we can do from here."
She was clearly the kind of leader who was used to being in the trenches with her fighters, while Lolack practiced a more removed style of leadership.
"She has a point, though." Valerie stood and turned to Lolack. "The crew of the Grandeur should get going. We’re close enough now, right? And you can cover us until we’re out of their reach?"
He nodded. "Yes to both."
"Let’s get moving, then," Valerie told Robin and the rest of her team, glad to have something to do other than sit around on someone else’s ship. Even if they had been in battle, there wasn’t much a vampire could do while the ships were shooting each other. But going on-planet or to space stations and tracking down bad guys and strange mysteries, or investigating alien weapons makers and searching for some sort of map? That was where she excelled.
They made their way back through the ship. The main walkways were now empty, since everyone was either at their battlestation or in the viewing room. The Grandeur was in the launch bay, fueled and ready to go.
Valerie made for the door and then stopped, noticing a blinking light on the floor. A second came to life next to it, then another, then several more, leading her gaze to the far wall where Tenowk stood in the shadows.
"Leaving without saying good bye?" he asked with a grin.
"Go ahead and get her ready." Valerie waved her team on. "I’ll be a sec."
"I wanted to thank you before you go," Tenowk told her as he approached. His robotic face looked better now that they’d concealed the wires and whatnot. "If not for you, I’d be this crazy AI’s slave."
"Not so crazy anymore," the female voice of the AI retorted. Aranaught had been corrupt, with plans of taking down the Lost Fleet—Lolack’s Fleet—and more, but not after Lolack had worked his tech magic on her.
"Tell that to everyone who sees me talking to myself." Tenowk grinned, then seemed to remember Valerie was there. "Right…thanks. Again. Just, now that I have this kind of cognitive techiness, it’s like I’m learning myself all over again. When you’re out there, I’m going to keep an eye out. I owe you."
"You don’t owe me. Lolack was the one who figured it out."
He nodded. "Him too. Just be careful, and if you ever need anything… Wait…" He held up a hand, closed his eyes, and then opened them as cheering echoed through the ship.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Took over a few of their ships and turned them against their own. I sure wish I could see the looks on their faces. Wait, maybe I can." Again he closed his eyes, this time laughing.
"Take care, Tenowk, and you too, Aranaught."
"Thank you," they answered in unison.
Valerie headed to the ship, boarding to find the others seated and the engines running.
"Let’s go find trouble," Valerie suggested, and grinned as Tenowk made an image of the other ships appear on their screen for a moment, then feeds of the enemy running around inside in chaos. "We’ll need to see where we’re going," Valerie shouted, but couldn’t help laughing.
"Good to have him, or her—them—on our side," Garcia commented, nodding to Flynn as the latter got the Grandeur moving.
"Too bad he isn’t coming with us," Valerie noted. "We have no idea what we’re about to ride into."
"That’s what makes it so fun," Robin quipped, and Valerie had to agree. Sometimes it was the thrill of it all that kept her going. Mostly, however, it was those at her side.
CHAPTER FIVE
Swarthian Extended Detention Environment (SEDE)
"Why does it seem like we spend half our time sneaking around in the corridors of this ship?" Wearl asked.
"Because we do." Kalan chuckled. "Hey, it wasn’t my fault you got yourself arrested. You didn’t have to follow me into prison. You could be hanging out with Valerie and the Elites right now."
"Yes, I’m sure they’re having a very peaceful, uneventful time. That sounds just like our Valerie."
Kalan had to admit, the Shimmer did have a point. They had been spending a lot of time in these corridors lately, but this time they were on official prison business. "You been here before?"
"To Cellblock One-Eight-Nine? No. They told us about it in my training program back in the day, though. Said to hope you didn’t get assigned there."
"Same with the prisoners. It’s the one cellblock you don’t want to be transferred to. People who walk into One-Eight-Nine never walk out again."
"So remind me again why we’re doing this?" Wearl asked.
Kalan smiled. "Because we love justice."
"Sure. Just like the captain."
Captain Tuttle’s sales pitch had won Kalan over, despite his misgivings about the Skulla’s motives. According to Tuttle, Cellblock One-Eight-Nine was the one place he couldn’t seem to get under control. The reason was simple: a Pallicon named Nostro.
Cellblock kingpins were common in SEDE—Kalan had seen a dozen of them come and go in his own cellblock during his childhood. They controlled the contraband, and often bullied other inmates. Some were worse than others, but according to Tuttle, Nostro was a whole different type of kingpin. Somehow he’d done the impossible—he’d gotten the guards into his pocket.
The Shimmers had been straightforward with Tuttle about the situation: the one thing they wouldn’t do for him was go after Nostro. Unless he wanted every guard in SEDE to quit, he would leave Nostro alone.
Captain Tuttle didn’t understand how Nostro had done it, but he was through putting up with the situation. That was where Kalan and Wearl came in. They were to sneak into One-Eight-Nine, capture Nostro, and bring him to Captain Tuttle. If the Shimmers wouldn’t give the captain the answers he wanted, maybe the kingpin himself would.
"Tuttle really won you over with that story of his, didn’t he?" Wearl asked as they walked.
Kalan shrugged. "A kingpin with total control over the guards? He could be doing anything to the other inmates in his block. What can I say? I don’t like bullies."
"So I’ve noticed."
They reached a metal door marked "189" in tall, blocky white letters. Tuttle had told them this door led to the supply area, from which they should be able to sneak into the cellblock without attracting too much attention. They’d been given a keycard that would open all doors in One-Eight-Nine, but it would automatically deactivate after twelve hours—a safety precaution in case it fell into the wrong hands.
"What about you?" Kalan asked. "The captain’s story worked on you too."
"Nah, this just sounded like fun. I bet we’ll get to punch somebody."
"Probably more than one somebody, knowing us. Here we go on another dumb adventure."
Kalan took a deep breath and held up the keycard. The reader flashed green, and the metal door slid open.
They stepped into a stockroom. Tall shelving units loaded with crates lined the walls.
Kalan made his way to the other end of the room and peeked through the window built into the door. One-Eight-Nine looked similar to any other cellblock. The cells looked like small homes, except for the doors that locked when the guards pushed a button—just like in Kalan’s cellblock. The walkway appeared to be clear, but he wasn’t going to take that for granted. "Check it for Shimmers?"
He stepped out of the way, allowing Wearl to look out the window.
"We’re good," she said after a moment.
Kalan eased the door open and cautiously stepped into the cellblock. "Now we just have to find Nostro."
They’d gone no more than twenty feet down the walkway when they spotted the boy. He couldn’t have been more than five years old, and he stood frozen in the center of the walkway, staring up at them with wide eyes. Kalan co
uld clearly see the sabie tattoo on his arm.
"Crap," Kalan muttered. He tried to make his voice sound friendly when he spoke again. "Hey, there. Are you—"
That was as far as he got before the kid turned and dashed away, disappearing into a cell a little way down the walkway.
"Well, there goes the element of surprise," Wearl quipped lightly.
A moment later, four large Pallicons stepped out of the cell the child had entered. They squinted at Kalan for a moment, then stalked toward him.
"Wearl, if this goes as badly as I think it’s about to, I want you to stay out of it," he said quickly. "You’re my wildcard. I need to hold you until the time is right to lay you down."
"Did you just say you want to hold me and lay me down?" the Shimmer asked.
"Just do as I say," Kalan ordered.
The four Pallicons reached him, two of them quickly moving to either side to flank him.
The one directly in front of Kalan glared at him. "Who are you, and how the hell did you get in here?"
Kalan said the first thing that came to mind. "That’s confidential. I need to talk to Nostro."
"Confidential?" He chuckled. "You want to see Nostro? No problem."
He nodded to his companions on either side of Kalan and the two grabbed Kalan’s arms, roughly guiding him down the walkway.
As they took him to the far end of the cellblock Kalan’s mind raced, trying to figure out what he’d say to the kingpin when he reached him. Sneaking into a cellblock unseen had been an unlikely proposition, but he hadn’t thought it would go badly so quickly.
On the plus side they’d agreed to take him to Nostro, and so far Wearl hadn’t attacked them. That was all he could think of for positives.
They stopped at the last cell on the far end of the block. One Pallicon growled, "Wait here," as if Kalan had any choice with the two males holding his arms. The Pallicon walked through the shadowy doorway, and Kalan and the others waited in silence.
A few moments later, a large figure filled the doorway. Kalan couldn’t make out his features in the shadows, but from the way the Pallicons holding him tensed he assumed this was Nostro.
