Rogue Sign

by Elin Wyn

  The kid had a point, but I’d be damned if I was going to let him have it.

  “No, I need a second pair of eyes.” His shoulders sagged a little. But I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t follow me anyway.

  “Besides, I don't know if I can trust you on this job.” His white face told me my words hit their mark. Hated to do it, but I didn’t want to be worried about him. I was in enough trouble as it was.

  His face slid out of sight as I worked my way down the trash heap.

  Even before I crossed the street, the bitter stench of the acid bombs I’d planted clawed at my throat. The air recirculators only worked intermittently in this neighborhood, and in the alley, the smell almost forced me to my knees.

  That the miner walked by without flinching, I could understand. I’d heard too much time in an environmental suit would have you smelling nothing but rubber. But the silver-haired doxy must have been high on something to not notice something was wrong.

  No time to linger in the alley. Microcams swept every ninety seconds, watching, waiting for anything out of the ordinary.

  I dashed to the hiding space I’d carved out of the fallen wall that backed up to Sary’s, and held my breath, trying to hear over the drumming of my heartbeat. The rushing in my ears slowed, and I poked my head out. Still all clear.

  Nobody in their right mind would take on Sary, he ran half the games in town, and word in the pits said he wanted to take control of the city over from Xavis. Unlikely, but still, not someone I really wanted after me. But if the choice was Sary or Xavis himself….well, it was a sucky choice.

  I counted, waiting for the next clear moment to check on the results of the clustered acid bombs, then ran back around the corner.

  Ninety seconds is a long time.

  Ninety seconds is long enough to make one chip in the wall a day until a section can be lifted away and replaced seamlessly.

  Ninety seconds is long enough to plant one small acid bomb at a time, then wait for a few days for the smell to dissipate, for the interior wall that led to the vault to weaken, bit by bit, day by day.

  Ninety seconds is long enough to die in the Waste, outside of the protection of the domes.

  And if I didn’t get my tithe to Xavis by tonight, that’s where I’d end up.

  Davien

  Really, everything would be so much easier if I just snapped the fat fool’s neck. Only the endless lessons in control back on the ship kept my hands still at my sides, fingers barely flexing. The tips of my claws ran across my palms, bringing me back to focus.

  “Davien, are you even listening to me?” Xavis rumbled.

  And he wasn’t a fool, even if I despised him. Xavis had clawed his way to the top of the dirtiest pile to run Ghelfi. The trip to the top had been over the broken bodies of plenty of enemies. He’d stayed on his perch for over twenty Imperial years. I didn’t have to do much research to know his methods hadn’t changed.

  Prime example: he’d hired me.

  I focused on Xavis, only too aware I’d started to slip away into the hunt. Every moment here, stuck on this rock, was a delay I couldn’t afford. Xavis, bastard though he might be, was my fastest way out of here. Well, the fastest way without an unacceptably high casualty count.

  Xavis lounged in his hover chair, fingers tapping in annoyance well away from the control pad. The chair was as much affectation as convenience - he could walk just fine. Just liked to be able to loom over people.

  “She’s late,” he growled. “She’s never late.”

  I didn’t need to ask who he meant. He’d been on a tear about his precious Kara for hours, first calling her his brightest find, then cursing her ingratitude.

  The large room I’d come to think of as the receiving hall was mostly empty now, just the regular workers at their terminals around the edges, cleaning credits, shifting funds until they could be transferred into the most secure banks in the Empire. Repetitive, mind-numbing, but crucial to any modern criminal enterprise. The low drone as they worked filled the otherwise quiet room.

  The last traces of the dark festivities of the last day had almost been erased. All day and night long, denizens of Ghelfi’s underworld had streamed in, bringing their tribute to the acknowledged boss of the city, doing their best, or worst, to please a capricious overlord. The whole affair had been boring, and stupidly inefficient.

  But the archaic ritual soothed his ego and had been an opening to a job. At the last tithing, some idiot with more guts than brains had tried to take Xavis out. He’d failed to account for the force shield over the hover chair, but his explosives did thin out Xavis’ bodyguards considerably.

  Bad luck for them, perfect timing for me. When Doc had commanded we all enter the escape pods, she’d made it clear we were to jump as randomly as possible. It should have worked, should have drawn the attackers away from the Daedalus, but it had been six standard weeks since I’d crashed here, and I hadn’t had a signal from her or any of my brothers.

  If I was on my own, I needed credits. And I needed a lot of them.

  Six weeks had been enough to battle my way up the ranks of Xavis’ enforcers. Not that they were slouches, but they didn’t have my, shall we say, advantages.

  A commotion at the entrance to the room drew my attention, and I angled for a better position at the front of Xavis’s chair. The dais we stood on served as an excellent vantage point for the room, allowing me to take in any suspicious movements at a glance. I’d argued to get rid of the scarlet drapery behind us, observing it provided too obvious of a hiding place. He’d refused. Like the dais, it was all about show.

  The scuffle at the doorway turned out to be two enforcers dragging a third man between them. Beneath the new scrapes and swelling around his eye, I recognized him. Marcus, Martin, something like that. A low-level hustler who worked the dive bars near the station. Rigged games of chance, targeting travelers who wouldn’t be around long enough to make a fuss.

  Xavis waved me back into place, and I relaxed, just a tad. This wasn’t a threat to his authority, just another loser trapped here.

  The enforcers tossed the poor sap onto the lowest level of the dais and stepped back, waiting for orders.

  “Malik,” Xavis coaxed the hover chair to the edge of the dais, watching the human wreck below take shuddering breaths. “You didn’t appear for the tithing last night.” He floated down, a pale mass of malevolence, eyes narrowed.

  I stepped behind him. I didn’t expect trouble from Malik, but there’d be hell to pay if I wasn’t where Xavis expected me, especially when he was in this mood.

  “Well?” Xavis’s low voice was almost pleasant, but a thread of malice wound through it, unmistakable. “We’ve known each other for so long, I’m surprised that you’ve disappointed me.”

  “I’m sorry, Lord Xavis,” the man mumbled. Probably had lost a few teeth. “My youngest has been down with the Batdu pox, the medicine was so much…” He gulped. “I thought I could make it up before the tithing.”

  “Oh?” Xavis’s eyes glittered. “How is the poor thing doing now?”

  “Better now, Lord Xavis. Thank you.”

  “You should have told me, I would have lent you the money.”

  Sure he would have. At rates that would mean he’d own the service of the entire family.

  “But, as it is, we have a problem that needs to be sorted out.” Xavis made a show of tapping his fingers, as if considering, but that sharp brain had already decided on the punishment, I was sure. This was just to terrorize the hustler, and send a message to everyone else in the room.

  “I’d forgotten about your lovely family,” he purred. “The oldest is twelve now, as I recall?”

  The man shifted uneasily. “Yes, my lord. But she’s not very strong…”

  “I’m sure a more active life will be good for her. She’ll have her own tithe to pay, starting next cycle.”

  “What?” The man pushed himself to his feet, protesting.

  Idiot.

  Xavis flic
ked a finger, and I sprang to the front of the chair to grab the beaten hustler by the front of his jacket. I lifted him off the floor and shook him until his head snapped back.

  He pushed feebly against my grip.

  “I wouldn’t try it,” I growled, and he froze.

  I’m not sure what it is about my voice. On the ship, with my brothers, no one had a problem with it. In all the training vids we watched, I never thought I sounded that different. But here, on this worthless rock at the fringe of the Empire, all I had to do was speak, and the humans cowered.

  Weak.

  Prey.

  I snarled, and the acrid scent of urine assaulted me. The fucker had wet himself. Apparently, he hadn’t liked the points of my teeth, either.

  “I suggest you comply, little man. What choice do you have?”

  He stared at me, face pale beneath the marks of the beating, but finally nodded. It wasn’t much of a motivational speech, but it was the truth. No one on Neurea had a lot of choices.

  “I think you can release him now, Davien.” The smug tone of Xavis’s voice told me he’d gotten what he wanted. He hadn’t had to send a usually reliable worker to the Wastes, and he’d picked up extra leverage at the same time.

  I lowered the man back to his feet. His legs buckled, but he scrambled away from me on hands and knees. Idiot. I wasn’t the worst monster in the room.

  The rest of the negotiations were predictably short and one-sided. The hustler left, and the business in the room resumed its quiet drone.

  “I’ve decided.” Xavis’s voice cracked like a whip as he floated back to the top of the dais. “An example must be made.”

  I waited below for orders.

  “Find Kara Shimshi. Bring her to me.”

  Despite my better instincts, I grinned.

  The hunt was on.

  Click here to keep reading Given!

  Vrehx: Conquered World Book One

  Vrehx

  Streaks of plasma lit the blackness as a squadron of Valorni fighters swooped in dizzying spirals, blasting at the massive Xathi ship that filled the screens of the Vengeance.

  We were so close it was the size of a planet. Like two steel ziggurats smashed and welded together. Not practical for space flight, but efficient enough to tear through several worlds.

  Designed to intimidate.

  Designed to destroy.

  And we were going to stop it.

  We crept closer, waiting. I sucked in my breath, geared for the inevitable.

  I gritted my teeth as the bridge shook, and Karzin let out an undignified whoop from his station on the far curve of the bridge. The purple stripes on his shoulders rippled, and his excited eyes darted back and forth as if cheering on his favorite sport.

  Barbarian. His crude Valorni traits got on my last nerve—not that he gave a rat’s ass. Like the lot of them, he had no empathy for others. He barely listened to commands and forget anyone who didn’t at least match his rank.

  “You green motherfuckers aren’t supposed to be hitting us, just laying cover for our approach,” I snarled. “They can remember that much, can’t they?”

  They had only begun venturing into space when we took them into the alliance, but surely they weren’t that stupid.

  I hoped not.

  “Fuck you,” the Valorni drawled. The stretched-out sounds of his abominable accent were like bristles to my red Skotan scales. “Not their fault we’re cloaked all to hell.”

  What an asshole. Valorni couldn’t even be bothered to speak accurately. Their drawl made it nearly impossible to understand them, and they had idiotic slang for everything.

  “They were informed of our flight path before the battle.” The lights of Sk’lar’s implants flickered in the dim light of the bridge. “It should have been simple for them to avoid it.”

  I smiled just a little, glad I wasn’t the only one with some common sense. Sk’lar wasn’t much better than Karzin, but he was more tolerable. My biggest problem was his implants.

  His artificial augmentation was just creepy and wrong. You could see them light up in biohazard green against his shiny black skin. He looked like a fucking motherboard.

  The strike team leaders were chosen for their specific talents and leadership, but Sk’lar’s was not stealth outside the ship.

  Karzin made it a point to butt heads with all of us. That usually distracted the rest of us from being at each other’s throats.

  Maybe that was his intention. Whatever. He was an asshole.

  Karzin shrugged off the K’ver’s barely concealed criticism. “Not gonna matter in a few minutes, is it?”

  The sarcasm warranted him a disapproving side-eye from Sk’lar, which he ignored. I hated to admit it, but the jackass was right. In a few minutes, we would probably all be dead.

  “Gentlemen,” Rouhr’s quiet word from the command station silenced the chatter, “are you prepared?”

  The scar that ran down the left side of his face rippled as he clenched his jaw. He was annoyed.

  Of course, we were prepared.

  We shut up anyway. Rouhr was very diplomatic. That’s why he was in charge.

  We straightened ourselves and regained our concentration.

  Tension and anger clogged the air, but there was no fear. Fear had died when our families did, when our worlds had burned under the Xathi attacks.

  Around the half circle, each of us activated the new weapons panels, the long seconds drawing out as they lit up and hummed. Every battle had this moment—the waiting before the storm.

  But this would be different.

  We owned the storm.

  “Let’s blow a hole in those bastards,” I growled, eyes fixed on the sickly green hull, thinking of the swarms inside.

  They waited for the go ahead to surge through over the squadrons like locusts.

  Nothing had been able to penetrate a Xathi hiveship before. They just plowed through and destroyed whatever they wanted, the swarms mopping up whatever the hiveship missed.

  The Valorni, as annoying as they were, were inducted into the alliance for one reason. The Sugavians had worked with K’ver scientists using codialite, a mineral from the Valorni homeworld, to make one last attempt.

  Just enough had been mined for this last-ditch effort—an experimental weapon that had a shot at penetrating that hull. It was rare, and we were on the losing end of this fight. We only had one shot.

  We’d better make it count.

  Every Skotan, K’ver, and Valorni warrior on the Vengeance had volunteered in the knowledge that it was a one-way trip. If this worked, the three strike teams below would board the Xathi and battle until there was nothing left.

  If it didn’t, we’d all die—just sooner.

  Either way, the recorder satellites would beam the results of the experiment back to the scientists and engineers. We’d succeed, or they’d build a better weapon next time. That was the most important part of the mission, and we all understood how expendable we were.

  The three of us locked focus on our stations as we crept closer.

  “We are now in firing range, Captain,” Sk’lar reported.

  “Fire at will,” was the only response.

  Karzin sent the signal to the Valorni ships, and I started a slow count.

  One.

  His comrades had fought stupidly but bravely. There was no discernable pattern to the attack.

  I was worried more would take friendly fire than would hit the Xathi, but they somehow made sense of the chaos, dodging fire from their comrades. If any survived the battle, they deserved to escape.

  Two.

  More likely the crazy bastards would follow us into the breach, but they’d earned the choice.

  Three.

  I activated the launch panel and braced, eyes fixed on the monitors. The adrenaline rushed through me in anticipation of the blow.

  Nothing.

  Not a bang or a pop or a whine. Just the hum of the engines, and the wall of the Xathi ship growing larger on
the screens.

  The anticipation deflated as I looked at the panel in confusion. The damn thing was experimental, but it should at least fire. The engineers weren’t brain-dead.

  With a snarl, I slapped it again.

  And then the universe turned inside out.

  Jeneva

  I was in my element.

  I was where I belonged.

  Completely alone in the silence, except for the gigantic bipedal tree creature with an affinity for spewing poison.

  Home sweet home.

  A glob of the foul stuff hissed as it ate away the earth beneath me. It was only inches from my boot, but I didn’t flinch or try to move out of the way.

  A rapid movement around a sorvuc was far more dangerous than its projectile poison. Its damn branches were covered in tiny neural fibers, capable of detecting incredibly small movements. The fibers were illuminated purple.

  The sorvuc searched for me.

  Under different circumstances, I would have found it beautiful, but at that moment, it was just a pain in my ass.

  The humidity made my short hair damp and scratchy. It clung to the curve of my neck. I longed to brush it away, but a movement like that would be a death sentence.

  The luminescent purple faded away to a tranquil pink. I realized I was holding my breath.

  Slowly, so slowly, I crept closer to the wide trunk of the sorvuc. I had already made an incision in its trunk. That’s what pissed it off in the first place.

  A necessary risk, but I only needed a few more drops of the thick scarlet fluid that seeped from the incision. The right person would pay a small fortune for its sap—or is it blood? Hell if I know.

  As I slid my vial into place, ready to collect the liquid the sale of which would keep me comfortable for months, shouts erupted from somewhere nearby.

  Damn it.

  The sorvuc shrieked, its neural fibers flaring purple once again. It pivoted, razor-sharp leaves dangerously close to me. I rolled away, camouflaging my own movements in its rustling.

  The hulking creature lumbered off in the direction the shouts came from—sort of. Its neural fibers must have picked up the sound vibrations, but with so many trees, it would have been difficult for the creature to determine the exact direction.