Traitor's Burden

By Wayne Austin

AUS/UK Edition

Book Two of The Zhivar Trilogy

Arkley Saundier needs to find his wife, not to atone for his sins but to confess them though he doubts that will ease his guilt.

He knows one thing though. Efiel Darnstorn will never forgive him and will never stop from hunting him down.

But when Danora flees into Zhivar space, he loses his chance at redemption. That is, until Salma Neilor throws him a lifeline. She wants to know if Danora has delivered her offer to the Zhivar. But it could mean suicide for
Arkley and Melangie Tarjour.

In Zhivar space, he faces a terrible choice in a no-win situation as he is caught between the Zhivar and the Wierda, a pawn in their intergalactic brinkmanship.

And as he plays a desperate game, it appears that nothing will save him from a fate worse than death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781447817369

Book preview

PROLOGUE

‘Deeto’s back?’ Salma leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes before looking at her aide in disbelief. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but if the proof of the pudding was in the eating, then her agents had provided quite a delectable dessert. ‘How can that be? It’s a joke. Isn’t it?’

Trayvor Wilenski shrugged with the unquestioning acceptance of the impossible that came with the exuberance of youth. Experience taught otherwise. A century’s worth had honed Salma into becoming the Stellar Federation’s longest serving president. Unfortunately, her aide was a work in progress. Now, if she could pass on some of that experience and smooth out his rough edges, he might also make a fine president when she finally stepped down.

‘Since when has Dragon’s Eye ever had a sense of humour?’ Trayvor asked. ‘Besides, that’s definitely Frieder Garimon, even though he’s seen better days by the look of him. Still, talk about a tough nut.’

‘Hmmm.’ Salma swiped the recording in the intercepted report and fast-forwarded through the manual interrogation that Garimon had been subjected to before the mind scan. As a means of gathering viable information, torture had long been discredited, but for Darnstorn and his people, that wasn’t the point. Revenge and retribution occurred a cost and an eye for an eye was just a down payment. ‘Wasn’t he outed by that Rheese weapons manufacturer, Darnstorn had bribed?’

‘Blackmailed. Yeah. Talk about lucky. They’ve been watching him for five months. Belliorose. That’s the guy in Rheese Heavy Lasers who’s liaising with Dragon’s Eye over the design mods they want. He let them know Garimon had to leave suddenly for the Octet though he didn’t know why.’

‘I’m not surprised Danora’s finally surfacing. However, I’m not happy with their plans to have her denounce the Federation for what happened on Parasimon.’ For a moment, she frowned at the memory and not just for the difficulties it had caused.

‘Sounds like Escovar’s idea. Deeto wouldn’t be so stupid. The last thing he wants is to drive you and Tricky-D back together. Divide and conquer. That’s his modus operandi. No, he wants to take out Tricky-D so he can negotiate with you from a position of strength. Escovar’s a bluff unless it all goes sour. Pity,’ he mused, ‘if we could get her to lay the blame squarely on Tricky-D—’

‘Stop calling him that!’ Salma chuckled. ‘Have some respect for our esteemed Minister for Security.’

‘I do! As much as you do.’

‘Anyway, I’d agree, except I have other plans for Danora.’

‘The artefact?’

‘It keeps trying to send a message toward Zhivar space.’ Salma sighed to vent her frustration. If the stupid thing would stop acting up and give her a chance, it stood a better chance of actually getting home. ‘And on top of that, I’ve had reports of alien ships poking around where Professor Zhoutang’s been, so it’s getting harder and harder to keep the thing hidden. Now ... since I’ve had no reply from them.’ She shrugged to show she had no choice.

‘Do you honestly expect her to head into Zhivar space on your say so? And that’s even if you can get to her. All we know is she’s going to make an announcement in the Octet. Garimon doesn’t even know where she’ll show up or—’

‘Oh, I know where she’ll show up.’ With an expectant smile, Salma waited for her aide to join the dots.

‘I guess... Well, she’ll want to see Deeto— Oh!’ He broke into a smile. ‘Why, Rheese of course. That’s where he has to be. Except, we’d never get to her. Apart from Rheese’s security, there’s also a strong Dragon’s Eye presence.’

‘But we don’t have to get to her. We only need to contact her. I’m sure Jarques and Patrek can be quite persuasive.’

‘And what about Deeto? Or Escovar? You think they’ll let her go just like that? I expect she’s travelling with quite a large, not to mention well-armed, entourage.’

As Trayvor stared at Salma, waiting for her solution to this conundrum, she perused her report for a minute while she let him squirm. Subtly, his calm facade faltered. This was a test and if he wanted to continue being her aide, he had better pass it. Tests like these were good learning experiences. Finally, he sat back to mimic The Thinker, one of her favourite ancient sculptures that had survived the fall of the first Stellar Federation and the dark days after. She smirked as the furrow in his brow deepened. Though he believed he was her favourite, he wasn’t her only protégé, something he was well aware of. Just to test his mettle, she decided to change the subject.

‘What about that report of a build-up of Alliance forces at Carogete?’ she asked without looking at him.

Trayvor took a deep breath, as he considered this subtle disruption, and then sat up to play along. ‘Escovar’s announced they’re there to counter the Federation’s invasion threat, which is how he’s interpreted Darnstorn’s actions at Lindsford.’

‘And the orbital weapons factories and shipyards they’re building?’

‘Support infrastructure for the fleet as well as long overdue investment in new industries that will benefit Carogete’s economy. You know, the usual bullshit.’

Salma stared steadfastly at her aide, waiting for him to solve her conundrum, and thought about letting him off the hook as his silence deepened. Not everyone was cut out for the dirty work required to run an empire in these dirty times. ‘Unfortunately, I do know,’ she said at last. ‘Damn.’ She shook her head to shake off the growing disappointment that was heightening the bad feeling she had been trying to keep at bay, but another dirty decision waited in the wings. ‘It’s a shame Deeto had to show up again—’

Trayvor clicked his fingers as he sat bolt upright. ‘Tricky-D— er, Darnstorn!’ As he looked at Salma, she saw a subtle smidgen of respect that perhaps heralded a new understanding of the depths he’d have to sink to if he was to be a successful president. Then he scowled at her. A mock scowl to be fair, but also to show he knew he was going to pass the test. ‘Oh, that is so like you! You want to ... what’s that crazy old saying you like?’

Salma bristled at her aide’s none-too-subtle putdown of her passion for all things ancient, but not just of the cultural icons like art, poetry, and literature. She also loved the intangible. Things like the words used and the pithy sayings the ancients lived by. The sad thing was, she doubted Trayvor was even aware he had insulted her, and she pictured him sitting around with her other protégés, just having a few drinks after a long hard day. Laughing and joking and poking fun at her little foibles that she liked to let slip. She had been like them, once. Brash and arrogant. But her mentors had long ago knocked that out of her, and she had filled the ensuing vacuum with, among other things, her passion. It was her, just as much as her pragmatic ruthlessness was. She cocked a judgmental eyebrow as Trayvor wrestled with his memory.

‘Kill...?’ Lips pursed, Trayvor stared up as if to beseech the ancient heavens he so easily dismissed. Then a triumphant smile replaced his frown. ‘You want to kill two birds with one stone!’

He sat back and relaxed, his arrogance once more to the fore. ‘He’ll do your dirty work and without even knowing it. You win either way. Let’s see... I know Tricky-D wants to catch her, but since that’s risky, it leaves him two options.’ He grabbed his right index finger, like he was her favourite ancient detective genius, who was about to outline how the killer had done the dastardly deed. ‘Kill her on Rheese, hmmm... Very difficult. Or,’ he grabbed his middle finger, ‘kill her before she leaves Bond.’

Trayvor stared into the distance as he considered other possibilities. ‘No, it has to be there. After that, he won’t know where she’ll be going, plus he’ll have tipped his hand to Deeto and Escovar. He has what? Nearly a hundred agents spread throughout the Alliance? He should be able to get thirty to Rheese. At least. And all he needs is one to get past Danora’s guards and...’ He shrugged. ‘Job done. Tricky-D’s agents don’t mess around.’

‘That’s fine, but what if Jarques does convince her?’ Salma arched her eyebrows and dared him to fail. Trayvor might have thought he had come through, but there were a couple of loose ends still to tie up. And on missions like these, loose ends had that unfortunate knack of tripping you up.

‘Then they intervene, unless Tricky-D beats them to the punch.’ He stared innocently at Salma but failed to hide his smugness. ‘In which case, you can send your condolences to Arkley Saundier. He should be arriving there around then.’

‘Ah yes. He’s after that Tarjours woman. That could be a problem.’

‘Only if Danora agrees to do your bidding, otherwise,’ Trayvor pursed his lips, ‘if she survives Darnstorn... I mean, Saundier still wants to kill her, doesn’t he?’

Salma shrugged, not liking where this was heading. She still had some hopes of utilizing Arkley to garner some Octet support to counter Deeto. ‘I’m not sure from my last report.’

‘Well, if he doesn’t, I’m sure your AI is more than capable of doing the job.’

‘It is,’ she murmured and half-listened as Trayvor wrapped up the briefing.

But her aide was wrong. She didn’t want Arkley to kill Danora, even if worst came to worst. Although it would be a valuable learning experience, her AI’s disturbing reports of his mental deterioration only showed he hadn’t developed the necessary backbone to be a worthwhile contender for her position. Still, she held out hope. If only she could convince him to give up this quixotic quest and return to the path she had laid out for him.

‘Of course,’ Trayvor said, as he stood up, ‘someone still has to take your message. Perhaps Saundier might ... if he thinks Danora has fled into Zhivar space. I mean, he’s followed her this far. Surely, he’d follow her there, don’t you think?’ With a well-pleased smirk to let her know he had tidied up all loose ends, he turned away.

As he strode out the door, she regarded him closely and wondered if her instincts were accurate. Unfortunately, in some ways he reminded her of a young Darnstorn in that he had a little too much chutzpah for her liking. The archaic word made her smile and she doubted that Trayvor knew what it meant. Still, his last point had some merit. If she couldn’t count on Danora, she knew she could count on Arkley.

‘Pity,’ she murmured, as she began to prepare her orders for her two erstwhile agents. She needed her Don Quixote more than ever and yet, Trayvor was correct. Arkley was the perfect sacrificial pawn if it came to that.

‘Pity,’ she muttered again.

* * *

‘You have a message,’ Petra, the Profiteer’s personality, intoned in its neutral female voice. Jackarel looked up from his lunch as his partner motioned at the wall display to play the message.

‘It’s from the president,’ said Karolic, though Jackarel knew no one else sent them messages.

Salma Neilor appeared on screen, seated behind her desk, and looking tired and less presidential than usual. With a quirk of her lips, she gathered herself. ‘It seems our unwanted guest wants to go home. It keeps trying to send a message — at least we think it is — and that’s attracting unwanted attention.’ She let slip the merest hint of a wry smile before regaining her composure. ‘I’ve had no reply from its owners, so I want to try another tack. I’ve included my message and I want you to find Danora and convince her to take it to them. My experts suggest you argue that since their medical facilities must be far in advance of anything we have, they’ll be more than happy to help her in return for receiving my offer.’

The President shrugged. ‘I’m doubtful, but you never know. I expect she’s quite desperate by now. Anyway, you’ll find her on Rheese. She should arrive around the same time as someone else you’ve both become quite fond of, especially you, Patrek, if my information is correct, so you may have to cut short your mission to Carogete.’

For a moment, her eyes twinkled as her old self showed through, though no smile betrayed her.

Karolic stopped the message and glanced deadpan at his partner.

‘Hey!’ Jackarel protested, as he scooped up the last of his chicken masala with his fork. ‘Don’t blame me for how I interpret our orders. Besides, she knows how hands on I am.’

‘I don’t think it’s your hands she’s alluding to,’ Karolic muttered. He continued the report before Jackarel could answer.

‘But it’s no coincidence that Danora’s arriving at the same time. They’re both heading there to meet someone who ... I guess you could say has returned from the dead. It’s all in the report I’ve attached.’

Karolic paused the message and frowned at Jackarel, like he couldn’t quite decide if he had bitten into something foul or just bad tasting. ‘Deeto?’

‘Must be.’

‘But he disappeared into Wierda space!’

‘So much for becoming a zoo specimen.’ Jackarel winked at his partner. ‘That should make you happy.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it means they’re allowing tourists in, and I know how much you’d want to go.’ Jackarel chuckled as his partner dismissed him with a sneer and continued the president’s message. After it finished, Jackarel stirred his fork through the sauce residue on his plate while he contemplated their orders. ‘That may be difficult,’ he said at last and slid his plate and fork across so his partner could dump them in the recycle slot in the wall. Then, as Karolic turned back to him and waited for a reason, he shrugged as if it was obvious. ‘I doubt Danora will listen to us if there’s even the remotest chance Deeto can come through.’

‘True,’ Karolic mused. ‘But what if he’s not in the picture? Or,’ he asked innocently, ‘could it be? Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch?’

Jackarel shook his head at his partner’s woeful attempt to tease him. ‘Really? That’s the best you can do? Amateur! No, I’m saying Danora isn’t stupid. She’ll play along. We just have to make sure she plays along until she realizes she has no other choice.’

‘Hmmm.’ Karolic skimmed through the attached report that had been intercepted from Darnstorn. ‘I hate to say it,’ he said thoughtfully, ignoring the rebuke, ‘but our dear President’s analysis is spot on, though I hate her solution.’

‘Darnstorn? It’s a stroke of genius, I’ll admit, but it means we failed, so we can’t let that happen. Let’s see...’ Jackarel pursed his lips. ‘Our Federation Whore’s bound to be spooked by his agents and she’ll flee,’ he continued with an air of total conviction. ‘So, all we have to do is knock off his agents waiting for her and then shepherd her to the right vector and escort her to the edge of Zhivar space. Once she’s cornered, she’ll come to her senses. You’ll see.’

‘Really?’ Karolic asked, his voice rising a little. ‘And what if she still reneges?’

‘What? You don’t like the idea of killing her? I admit—’

‘No. It’s ... uh.’ Karolic crossed his arms and looked down, like he felt uncomfortable. ‘It’s well...’

‘Oh? Oh...’ Jackarel sat back and tried to sound sympathetic. ‘It’s what the orders don’t say, isn’t it?’ he teased. ‘Hmmm... That message still needs to be delivered, doesn’t it? Of course,’ he glanced at his partner with a smirk, ‘she’ll want someone reliable and who she can trust implicitly. Now, while I don’t agree, for some crazy reason, of the two of us, she sees you as that man, and she’ll expect you to volunteer, even though I doubt she knows you’d fall to pieces once you got there. It’s a shame, but there it is, because I know I’d make a great tourist.’

‘That’s true,’ Karolic mused innocently and Jackarel frowned. Had he missed something? He couldn’t think what, but he knew when he was being set up. ‘But we do have some leeway,’ Karolic continued.

‘What do you mean?’ Jackarel asked, a bad feeling growing in his gut as Karolic slowly smirked.

‘Who says we have to kill Danora? If we disable her yacht, you can be reunited with her. Won’t that be nice? And then,’ Karolic’s smirk sharpened, ‘why ... then you can take her, and her children, to the Zhivar.’

‘But ... but, no,’ Jackarel blustered. ‘The orders say—’

‘It’s how we interpret them, and as I’m in charge... Anyway, despite what you’ve told me over and over, I know you. Three’s definitely a crowd. Still, I expect the pair of you will make excellent tourists!’ Karolic chortled as he changed course for a vector to rendezvous with Harbduhl and Pyke in the Lucky Streak. Jackarel planned to impress certain twins with his ‘company’s’ latest acquisition, but his R and R would have to be curtailed. ‘Looks like I’ll have to pick up Saundier ... and Melangie as well. Shame that. I know how much you’d like to debrief her.’

‘Well,’ Jackarel grumbled, ‘I am a tits and arse kind of guy after all.’

CHAPTER 1

With fuel running low, Baby at last switched away from the star cluster before the Victorious could arrive to catch them leaving. Arkley knew he had pushed the Askari beyond its theoretical breaking point to elude Darnstorn, despite Baby’s protests, but he couldn’t afford to keep bouncing from star to star in the cluster before escaping. As it was, the doubt gnawed at him. The Universe had a way of punishing him and, given his luck, he’d surely miss this Melangie Tarjour by mere hours. He felt depression’s fog descend upon him once more and, as they usually did, his thoughts returned to the dying minutes of one Aurah Caldorkia.

‘Damn it. No!’ Arkley ground his fists into his eyes to gouge away the horrendous images that assailed him. Why did her glazed eyes have to stare at him so?

It was funny — he grunted a humourless laugh — how the murders of Lenstrith and that other agent didn’t bother him one iota, but hers did. Maybe it was because hers was so personal. So up close and in his face. He had watched Death steal her life force away with the help of his willing hands. His eager hands. That was it. How many times had he fought the urge to wash them, as if that would expunge their sins?

Once more Arkley tried to rally himself, but he found the effort harder. He knew he was close to cracking and thought about surrendering to the medi-bay and its coma-induced blackness for the duration of the trip. Perhaps even to Rheese.

Or forever.

But, as he tensed to push off for the medi-bay, he caught himself. Didn’t he have a mystery guest to welcome? It had revealed its existence when it tried to take over the Askari just after Darnstorn’s arrival, but Baby had been prepared in case Gleepolil tried something.

‘Baby, send up six repairbots with plasma torches and hull repair sheets. I want to secure Gleepolil’s buddy.’

At least he had something else to occupy his mind for the moment and he felt an odd eagerness as he made his way aft to the bulkhead. Aurah must have stashed the creature in there to keep it from curious customs inspectors. He outlined a door-sized area and drifted back, then watched the two repairbots cut through the metallo-composite in opposite directions. When the final cuts met, they eased the piece out and Arkley peered into the gloom. A twin to Gleepolil’s container occupied the small space and, as he pondered its relationship to Gleepolil, a rectangular section turned transparent. Three tubes rose out of another starfish creature and turned to him.

‘Who are you?’ the container asked in a voice just like Gleepolil’s. ‘Where is the Aurah Caldorkia human identity?’

‘Aurah is ... indisposed. I’m her replacement. Who are you?’

‘I am Gleepolan. What has happened to Samson? Why did you stop me from going to Gleepolodapixoref?’

So, this creature wasn’t Gleepolodapixoref. Before Arkley could come up with a suitable excuse, the container began to drift forward. At the opening, it paused, balked by the narrow fit, and then pressed forward, flowing through as if it were fluid where it touched the edges.

Arkley backed up. Gleepolil hadn’t acted like this.

‘Box it up,’ he snapped, but as the repairbots moved to position the hull sheets, arm-like vines exuded from the sides of Gleepolan’s container to push them away. Though short, they showed no sign of the olive-green splotches that discoloured Gleepolil’s vines. Did that mean that Gleepolil’s container was damaged? Or was injured a better word to use?

But, as Arkley pondered this revelation, Gleepolan pushed toward the living area.

Arkley ordered the repairbots to block its way with their plasma torches at the ready. It stopped and probed this obstacle with jabs from tendrils that grew forth from the tips of the vines and which retracted when they touched the glowing finger of a torch. Then the vines withdrew and Arkley broke into a smile. He had won. But his grin faded as a soft yellow glow sprung up, like a shield, turning everything behind it hazy. Gleepolan eased forward and Arkley jerked back. Where the plasma beams touched the yellow glow, they flared away, and when it touched the torch nozzles, they began to sparkle and crackle, eroding away before his gaze. Stunned, he pulled the robots back. His thoughts raced, but he couldn’t figure out how to stop what was beyond his comprehension.

Then Gleepolan paused. From its top, it grew a stunted vine, which sprouted a host of tendrils in a hemisphere overhead and their tips twisted back and forth as if sniffing the air.

‘Why is there another on this ship?’ it asked.

‘You mean Gleepolil?’ Arkley said, without thinking, and then scowled at his stupidity. This must be what the Leetopic had warned him about.

‘It does not feel like Gleepolil.’ The yellow glow vanished and Gleepolan accelerated back down the corridor, toward the aft storeroom where Arkley had stashed the alien.

‘Wait!’ he cried out and, waving at the repairbots to follow, charged after it.

Gleepolan drew to a stop outside the storeroom and the tips of the tendrils stroked the smooth lines of the welds around the door, probing for any tiny gap through which they could grow. But the repairbots had been meticulous and he had double-checked their work. Arkley waited, hesitantly. What else did the alien have in its bag of tricks? Stymied, Gleepolilan withdrew its tendrils and the yellow glow sprang up again, this time facing the door. It was so thin, it looked two-dimensional. Arkley stifled a gasp. A layer of air had become so energized, it glowed and gave off a low hum. Gleepolan drifted forward and when the glow touched the door’s metallo-composite surface, a screeching sound assaulted Arkley. Desperately, he clamped his hands to his ears.

Why couldn’t he let things be? Salma liked to say that curiosity killed the cat and now he knew what she meant.

As he cringed, the yellow glow wavered, caressing the door’s surface, and white sparks flickered into existence, like dancing fireflies caught in the thin layer. Then the glow snapped off. The door had a mirror sheen, like it had been polished rather than eroded. Arkley let out a slow sigh. At least he had a semblance of hope now. All he had to do was lock Gleepolan up somewhere, like a storeroom...

‘D’you want to get in?’ he asked in a light voice, like he was talking to a small child.

‘I want to see the other. Is it really Gleepolil?’

‘Move back and I’ll open the door.’

Gleepolan drifted away and Arkley ordered two repairbots to slice along the welded joins. Fortunately, he wasn’t a cat. And what could go wrong? Besides, the aliens would have each other to keep them company. When the door slid open, Gleepolan charged in, knocking the repairbots aside, and stopped before Gleepolil’s box, like it was bemused. Arkley motioned the repairbots back, ready to weld the door shut.

‘Why is Gleepolil in that?’ Gleepolan asked.

‘It ... when I rescued it, it tried to take over my old ship and this was the only way to stop it. I think it’s damaged.’

‘Where is its human identity?’

‘I don’t know. I found Gleepolil in a wrecked ship.’

Tendrils grew from Gleepolan’s container, and their tips explored the edges of the box. ‘I want to see Gleepolil.’

‘All in good time.’ Arkley drifted back, but as the door began to close, Gleepolan shot out a vine, which jabbed into the gap and blocked the door from closing. Arkley jerked back in case it tried to grab him. ‘Cut it!’ he snapped at a repairbot, and it moved forward with its plasma torch extended. But as it moved into position, the blunt tip of the vine split into fingers and two managed to latch onto the robot, while two more held the plasma torch at bay. For a moment, the repairbot tilted and tried to pull free. Then it froze, and the vine retracted into the room, pulling its victim after it.

The door slid shut with a resounding clap. ‘Arkley,’ said Baby, ‘I have lost contact with that repairbot.’

With a sick feeling, he opened the door and peered in. The vine’s fingers had thinned to tendrils, which embroidered the repairbot. Gleepolan guided the robot over to Gleepolil’s box and as it began to slice along an edge, Arkley cursed under his breath. It was pointless welding the door shut now.

One side of Gleepolil’s prison drifted free and as the repairbot started along another edge, a vine grew from Gleepolil. Its tip met and merged with Gleepolan’s vine. Nervously, Arkley swallowed. If he hadn’t been able to stop Gleepolan, how could he hope to stop the two of them? Another side of the box tumbled away and Gleepolil pushed free. But as its cube drifted toward Gleepolan, the empty feeling in Arkley’s stomach grew worse and he realized he had no choice. He couldn’t allow them to take over the Askari.

As Gleepolil butted up against Gleepolan, Arkley opened his mouth. ‘Baby—’

But the words caught in his throat. Gleepolan’s container flowed over and around Gleepolil, swallowing its cube, like a python swallowing a pig. Were these creatures cannibals? And when Gleepolan finished engorging Gleepolil, its container appeared hardly bigger than before. Without thinking, Arkley eased over and stared into the window on Gleepolan’s container. One starfish crawled on to the other and pressed the tips of two of its multi-pointed feet against two nodules on the other’s central bulge.

‘I must link with Gleepolodapixoref at once,’ the container ordered.

‘That’s...’ Arkley paused and tried to put his finger on what was different. Then it hit him. The container’s voice had aged and now sounded like a petulant teenager. ‘That’s not possible.’

‘Contact Gleepolodapixoref’s human identity and tell it to bring Gleepolodapixoref here.’

‘That must be Darnstorn,’ said Baby.

‘I can’t,’ said Arkley. ‘The ship’s Dark-space communications is damaged. You’ll have to wait until we reach Ember.’

‘I cannot wait.’ A vine shot out from the container and wrapped around Arkley’s arm before he could react.

‘Hey!’ he shouted. ‘Let go.’ But as much as he tugged and plucked, it held tight. Five vines erupted past him, more like spears, and latched onto the remaining repairbots. They went slack and were drawn in.

Arkley felt a burst of anger aimed at himself. Why am I so stupid! Tears brimmed his eyes. He had failed his daughters, his people and now his duty to Salma. And he had failed to make Darnstorn pay when he had everything he needed to bring that monster down. Instead, he had charged off on a stupid, selfish quest to find this Melangie Tarjour in the forlorn hope that maybe, just maybe, she might know where Danora was. It was time to end it. ‘Baby—’

‘Unknown human identity, I am suspicious of your actions and your explanations are inconsistent. Identify yourself.’

Arkley hesitated. He should give Baby the order. ‘I’m Arkley Saundier. Who are you?’

‘Why have you interfered?’

‘What d’you mean?’ Arkley fumed as he wriggled his arm, trying to free it. ‘I rescued Gleepolil! And I was under attack when those Leetopic attacked Darnstorn—’

‘Leetopic? Where did they come from?’

‘Lindsford, the planet where I left Gleepolil to keep it safe. They knew what Gleepolil was though. And they knew about you.’ Arkley thought about taking his chance and ordering Baby to destroy the Askari, but something in the container’s change of tone made him pause. Perhaps his luck hadn’t quite run out or perhaps the Universe wasn’t finished with him ... yet.

His fingers tingled from a lack of blood. ‘That’s why I fled. I didn’t want them to capture you.’ A memory popped up. Lenstrith’s database had talked about the importance of finding Melangie Tarjour. He hadn’t stopped to think about why she was important to Darnstorn, but maybe she was important to these creatures as well, though what a tramp Feebarn trader could have that these aliens would want, he hadn’t a clue. ‘They know you’re after the Melangie Tarjour mentioned in the database I salvaged when I rescued Gleepolil.’

‘What do you know about the Melangie Tarjour human identity?’

Arkley smiled and relaxed. So, she was important. He didn’t need to destroy the Askari now; he had an ace to play. But first, it was time to bluff. ‘I know she has something you want, and I suspect the Leetopic know as well.’

‘How can they know?’

Arkley lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘I knew she was important. They asked me where she was, but I told them I’d never heard of her.’

‘It is important that I link with Gleepolodapixoref.’

‘That may be difficult. I expect the Leetopic are shadowing Darnstorn, and they’ll attack again. But you don’t need to link with Gleepolo-whatever. I know where Melangie is. Why don’t we work together?’

The vine’s grip tightened, but then it slackened and let go. Pins and needles shot up to Arkley’s elbow. ‘I will trust you,’ the cube said, ‘for the moment. The Melangie Tarjour human identity must be captured and taken to Gleepolodapixoref’s human identity for information extraction.’

‘Tell me,’ Arkley asked, flexing his arm to get the circulation going, ‘are you the container that’s speaking? I thought I was speaking to the creatures inside before.’

‘My container is an adjunct. I am Gleepolilan.’

Arkley waited, but this Gleepolilan didn’t seem interested in talking. He studied the container and then backed out. ‘Interesting,’ he mused. Gleepolilan had to be Gleepolil and Gleepolan linked and somehow the two linking had made the resultant creature more intelligent. Then how intelligent was Gleepolodapixoref? And how long would his luck hold out?

But first things first. He had to damage the Dark-space communications system, just in case Gleepolilan didn’t believe him.

CHAPTER 2

As the Lucky Streak eased to a stop in its parking slot, beside the Profiteer, Jackarel hurriedly pulled on his spacesuit’s helmet and dashed for the service bay, but Greiggs and Eversen had beaten him there. He couldn’t help fidgeting while he waited for the airlock to recycle. As his crew rode their scooters toward the Profiteer’s cargo bay, their excited banter with Harbduhl and Pyke overwhelming the comm channel, he pouted. Whatever happened to rank having its privileges? He should be the first to see the new toys.

Greiggs let out a soft whistle as Jackarel straddled the last scooter and eased out. But old habits were hard to break. He scanned the area.

Normally, secrecy was the word of the day. Any overt activity that could draw unwanted attention was definitely frowned on, but where better to enjoy all your birthdays coming at once than in a crowded parking lot? Karolic had arrived at Bond a few days earlier with the Boudicca and Lei-tzu. He had picked well. All the surrounding slots were filled with varying sized hulking behemoths that had seen better days. On the edge of this cluster of commercial clutter, a smaller cousin to the Queen of the Stars woke up and began to reverse out of its slot and Jackarel watched it rotate, then ease toward the bright lights of a shoddy repair shop on the outskirts of Parking lot Number Twelve.

Admittedly, the Lucky Streak and Profiteer did look out of place amongst this congregation of down and outs. Not that there were prying eyes to take notice. The owners of these one-man enterprises were either getting drunk or getting laid, or, more than likely, desperately trying to drum up work to pay for the shoddy repairs they were going to get.

Jackarel chuckled. This was where Melangie had a leg-up on them. Or was that a tits and arse up? It was a good thing his twins weren’t in this business; they’d make a killing.

Then, happy that the area was deserted — not that he needed to check, Karolic was just as anal — he scooted across to the Profiteer and eased into the cargo bay.

‘Well, well,’ he murmured, and with a short spurt, he passed slowly along the raiders, admiring their sleek black shapes like a proud father with a newborn child.

To all intents, they were exact copies of those that Darnstorn’s agents used. But that imitation was only skin-deep. Their designers had sacrificed speed for firepower, and like the Profiteer, they had two lasers instead of one, plus penta-shot. He smiled at one of his great-grandaunt’s idioms that came to mind. She said she wanted her agents to be wolves in sheep’s clothing. Then, with a feral smile and a nasty glint in her eye, she’d added that she expected her sheep to lead her enemies to the slaughter wherever possible.

But in the upcoming battle, it would be Darnstorn’s agents leading the Alliance commanders to the slaughter. And a slaughter it would be if they had their way. Like their master, they much preferred the heavy-handed approach when handing out hard lessons. Still, if he got his way, Darnstorn’s agents wouldn’t get off scot-free.

He smiled at the thought as he drifted to a stop before the Lei-tzu’s cockpit and waved at Karolic, though he wasn’t visible.

‘What do you think?’ Karolic asked, audio only, the excitement barely contained in his voice.

‘I can’t wait to kick some arse,’ he answered.

‘All in good time, el sergeanto.’

It seemed unfair, but Karolic was correct to pull rank. Harbduhl and Pyke had trained the raiders’ personalities, battling Darnstorn’s military forces in the Octet, and though the AIs made the decisions during battle and the pilots were mostly along for the ride, there were times when they missed potential winning moves that only seeing the bigger picture gave. But to fight Darnstorn’s best required experience that neither Harbduhl nor Pyke had. They didn’t think like them. Yes, hand to hand, they could fight dirty with the best, but they didn’t have that extra rat cunning this mission required.

Besides, rank did have its privileges. He smirked at that, too.

‘They met her with a fuel tanker,’ Karolic continued, ‘so she wasn’t held up at a fuel depot.’

‘Smart thinking,’ said Jackarel. They really were a work of art, an assassin’s wet dream.

‘Certainly caught out Darnstorn’s agents. I think they planned to nab her before Rheese. Now they’ve gone to Plan B by the look of it. Must be around ten trailing after her, which leaves another ten, if she escapes. Interestingly, I’ve been monitoring a coupé hanging around a curious vector to a binary system, four days away. A blue giant with a white dwarf.’

Jackarel zoomed out the star map that Karolic had projected in the top left of his faceplate and nodded to himself. ‘Nasty.’

‘It switched not long after she arrived. The system has a direct route back to Durgette in the Octet, which is under Darnstorn’s control.’

‘And there’s a direct route to that cluster Saundier headed for,’ Jackarel added.

‘Oh,’ Karolic murmured. ‘I’d forgotten about him. He must’ve given Darnstorn the slip by now if Baby had any say in it.’

Jackarel frowned at a bad feeling. Even though his captain hadn’t said it, they both knew the Governor was a little overdue, which reminded him. ‘And what about Melangie?’

‘She’s currently in a queue at Fuel Depot Four.’

‘And Darnstorn’s agents?’

‘They’ve shown no interest so far, but I’m sure, if the chance comes up, they’ll nab her. Ah!’

Jackarel waited a few seconds. ‘What’s up?’ he asked at last.

‘Oh,’ Karolic mused, like he was half-listening. ‘Petra’s just received a message from Baby. They’ve arrived on the far side and it’ll take her at least a day and a half to refuel before they can head for Rheese.’

Jackarel eased to a stop outside the Lei-tzu’s rear maintenance airlock and ordered his scooter back to the Lucky Streak. ‘Is Saundier a problem?’ he asked. ‘Baby didn’t think so at Ember, but...’ He swung open the airlock door and clambered in.

‘She still doesn’t, but he could be useful in persuading Danora, if she has other ideas.’

Jackarel stripped off his spacesuit in the cramped space and as the inner access hatch swung out, he floated into the narrow corridor and headed for the small living area.

Karolic greeted him with a big grin. ‘So, el sergeanto, I see you’ve recovered your strength,’ he teased. ‘Still, I don’t expect you’ll want to debrief anyone for a while.’

‘Please, mon capitan!’ Jackarel wheedled, ‘You joke, no? Ze Great Jackarel is always eager and ready to mount an offensive, no matter how sore his balls may be. Let me prove it. I will take this magnificent stallion and ride it over to that broken-down freighter and give its captain such a debriefing, her legs will be bowed forever more. Just you wait and see.’

Karolic shook his head in disgust. ‘I’m afraid not, el sergeanto. As much as I’d like to see what she’d do to you, taking the Lei-tzu for a ride is out of the question.’

‘But Captain!’ Jackarel pouted. New toys were meant to be played with.

‘All in good time, Patrek. We don’t want to ruin the surprise for Darnstorn’s agents, do we?’

‘No ... I guess not.’ As Karolic led him away to explore the raider, he still felt disappointed. Thinking of Melangie reminded him of the twins, which reminded him of how much he missed them. Who knew when he’d get to debrief them again?

If ever.

CHAPTER 3

With a warm smile, Melangie shook the manager’s hand as her hired delivery truck eased her last cargo container to the factory floor. It wasn’t her normal cargo, but the antiques market tended to go in ragged cycles. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Semantique didn’t pay her either. But that was to be expected. When one supported a cause, one paid, no matter the cost. Especially, if Bahn had his way. That sour thought made the factory manager cock his eyebrows, but she waved it away and finished on a few pleasantries of no consequence before climbing into the delivery truck’s passenger cabin.

The other passenger glanced at her and then turned back to the program he was watching on the screen above the seats opposite. She ignored him in turn. As Bahn’s lackey, he had one job and that was to make sure the box on the seat in front of her was delivered pronto to his master. It didn’t matter that she had picked up other cargo en route and had to deliver that first, but when he had tried to coerce her, a knee to his balls made him see the light. Tarjours were tough but testicles weren’t.

So now came the hard part.

But try as she might, she couldn’t stop trembling, though she didn’t give a damn if her guard noticed or not. All through her trip from Travisk, she had failed to fight off playing over this coming moment in her mind. Bahn was a double-edged sword. Semantique would have reported their conversation at the Sarn Rise Bar, probably to that bastard, Alistrade, given that Bahn had gone missing. But it didn’t matter whether it was Alistrade or Bahn. If they thought she was compromised — she clenched her fists in her lap and silently cursed Neilor, Karolic, and above all, Jackarel — then her future was short and bleak.

In the late evening gloom, the delivery truck whispered off down the street, taking her to her destiny. As it turned onto the main avenue, the truck slowed in heavy traffic and she stared out at the passing sidewalk, full of expectant pedestrians, waiting for tomorrow to brighten their dull lives. Mardi Gras was coming to town. The fortnight-long, Rheese time, drunken debauchery and ribald entertainment only came once every five years and partaking really appealed to her. Melangie screwed her nose up. Why couldn’t she walk away? The spaceport was overflowing with visitors and what was a carnival without suckers fighting the odds for an even break?

That her life was as dull as theirs didn’t matter one iota. She was a sucker, she had to admit. But why did her life have to teeter on the razor’s edge of someone else’s whim? First Neilor and now Bahn. The truth didn’t matter, for, as always, it was the thought that counted.

The truck entered a semi-commercial backwater, adjacent to Rheese’s spaceport, and the crowds faded away. No Mardi Gras for her, she realized. No hope.

The gloomy thoughts lasted all the way to her destination, so much so that when the truck pulled up in front of a cheap hostel, she had succumbed to her imminent demise, like a world-weary stoic. Before the passenger’s door had opened fully, she clambered out and strode through the jaded entrance, chin up and defiant. If death be her fate, let it come. She was a Tarjour. Tarjours weren’t testicles and if she had to die, then it’d be on her terms.

‘Where’s Bahn?’ she demanded to the guard who blocked her path, having sprung to life from where he lounged against the wall. She grabbed the barrel of his laser rifle and twisted it away from her face. ‘Let me through!’

But he stepped across to block her. ‘Corporal!’ he snapped, as Melangie glared at him, and another stolid head poked out from the side doorway behind him.

‘What is it, Mathewson?’ the corporal asked in a weary voice.

‘Sir, this person wishes to see the General.’

The corporal sighed. ‘For crying out loud, Mathewson, get rid of—’

‘He’s expecting me!’ Melangie snapped.

The corporal stared at her, like she was an idiot. ‘Everyone says that,’ he said, as the third door down opened and Alistrade popped his head out to see what the commotion was.

‘Ah, Melangie!’ He beamed a warm welcome at her, like they were old friends. ‘It’s okay, Ballery. Let her through.’ He stepped out into the hall and proffered a hand to guide her into the lion’s den. ‘Where’ve you been? We expected you an hour ago?’

The guard stepped to the side and snapped to attention, and as she strode past the corporal, he stared at her with bemusement. But he wasn’t as bemused as she was. She hesitated at the doorway and frowned as, with a big smile, Bahn rose from his seat and held out his arms, offering a warm embrace.

A warm embrace, but not a lover’s embrace.

Something in his smile made her stiffen a touch and he must have noticed. He pushed his way past the other Dragon’s Eye leaders, seated round the large dining table, and pulled her into his clutches. Still, she couldn’t relax. This was all wrong. All through the trip from the factory to here, she had prepared herself for the worst, but now Bahn had wrong-footed her. And yet, she knew she was right.

At last, he released her and held her back by the shoulders so he could look at her. But though his smile seemed sincere, his eyes lacked any warmth, and when he kissed her, his lips were dead. As he led her to an empty chair beside his, she turned to regard everyone there and their stares reminded her of an ancient vid of a flock of flying creatures from Earth that had nearly gone extinct. Birds, she remembered. On an Earth savannah, they had clustered around a dying beast, waiting expectantly. And when its last sigh eased out, they had clambered over its carcass, each fighting to get the tastiest morsel before the others.

Vultures, she recalled. Bahn and the others stared at her like those vultures had stared at that dying beast.

‘Melangie...’ Bahn grabbed her hand, but again, it felt like he wanted to stop her getting away, rather than as a lover missing her. ‘It’s been too long. I’ve...’ He frowned as he pulled her down to her seat. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘I ... you disappeared. Like really disappeared. Freaked Semantique out so much, I thought you were dead.’

Bahn sat back and laughed. ‘Not only Semantique.’

The others in the room chuckled in unison, like it was expected. Their leader had laughed. And, as if choreographed, their chuckles all died in unison. Then Bahn waved at the door and they rose to their feet and shuffled out, clearly disappointed at being dismissed by their Messiah. All, except Alistrade, the master’s apprentice. Melangie felt his stare on her back, but as she subtly tried to pull her hand free, Bahn tightened his grip.

‘I’m, well, I’m surprised you missed me. I mean, after the last time—’

‘No, no! You’ve got it wrong. I’d just escaped another assassination attempt. The second within a week. And then you showed up weeks late when I really needed that stuff. I thought...’ Bahn sighed. ‘I’m sorry, darling. The pressure just got to me. So much work! Melangie.’ He squeezed her hand to convince her. ‘Melangie... I love you. I swear.’ He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. No lover’s tongue. No hint of passion.

With the same reluctance, she kissed him back to reinforce the lie.

He wanted something, but for the life of her she couldn’t think what, except. It dawned on her then. He wanted her to volunteer her confession. But if that was the case, why the pretence? Why play this little game? As she stared into his eyes, she saw no answer in their fathomless depths.

‘Me too,’ she said at last. If he wanted to play games, she was happy to play along, but from now on, they would play by her rules. ‘What, with the situation in the Octet, I’m sure you’ll be too busy. I ... I don’t wanna distract you. Anyway,’ she sucked in a deep breath as she prepared to roll the dice, ‘since I’m no longer of any use. I mean, there’s no way I can smuggle anything into the Octet, the situation being what it is.’ She shrugged. ‘I have to make a living as well, too. My folks are screaming for help as it is.’

‘I thought—’

‘Yeah, well, you know how it is. Family’s family. What’s in the past stays in the past. I still send them what I can, but it’s never enough, and when I got stuck that time ... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘No, no.’ Bahn reached over and squeezed her shoulder to reassure her. ‘I only realized how stupid I’d been after you left. No wonder you thought we were breaking up.’

‘It’s true,’ Alistrade said nonchalantly from behind. ‘Bahn was really upset and when I asked him why, he said he’d done something stupid. It’s a pity you broke down.’

Bahn chuckled. ‘I thought you’d dumped me, which explains some of my mood.’

‘Five weeks, wasn’t it?’ Alistrade asked lightly. ‘But how did you fix it? Was your magnetic interlinks if I remember.’

‘Yeah,’ said Melangie, suddenly wary. They knew it wasn’t the first time the Queen of the Stars had broken down, leaving her stranded and having to jury rig repairs. So why? Did they think she was a spy reporting to her masters?

‘But you can’t just fix those,’ Alistrade said casually. ‘They need specialized components. Did a passing ship come to your rescue?’

‘You couldn’t have called anyone,’ Bahn added, just as casually. ‘It was right after that strange event in the Dragon’s Eye. The communications transponder there was destroyed.’

‘No!’ Melangie snapped and tried to jerk her hand free, but Bahn held on with a relentless grip. ‘I fixed the links myself. I had to scavenge parts from my ship and then I had to program the AIs in my workshop to make the tools to modify them. As it was, I barely made it. You wouldn’t believe the number of errors my pentadrive threw up.’

‘I have to admit I’m surprised,’ said Alistrade and Melangie couldn’t stop a twitch between her shoulders, like she had been jabbed with a sharp knife that said he didn’t believe her. ‘Those interlinks are extremely stable, so I’ve been told.’

Melangie stared into Bahn’s eyes, imploring him to believe her. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘which is why I was surprised as well. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was all set to arrive at the Eye when Tarkier began reporting a lot of weird readings. I remember him warning me the Queen’s bubble was growing unstable. But as we switched, a whole bunch of weird momentum shears rolled through, and you wouldn’t believe it! The H.A.I.S. failed. I was knocked out for a few hours.’

‘I’ve never heard of momentum shears damaging an interlink,’ Alistrade countered and Melangie swung round to glare at him. She’d be damned if she’d let a snake like him stab her in the back. He pulled back. ‘Hey, I’m just saying.’

‘They weren’t ordinary momentum shears!’ she snapped.

Bahn pulled on her hand to turn her back to him. ‘What d’you mean?’ he asked.

‘I ... well, I vaguely remember these tingling feelings on my arms and legs and,’ she grimaced, as she struggled to relive that traumatic