Terminus Ascending: Star Ascension, #7

By Jeremy Michelson

A case of mistaken identity? Not at all.

 

A vicious alien race has a secret weapon to use against humanity:

 

Roy DeHaas.

 

Turns out to be quite the surprise to Roy.

 

Roy finds himself on the run. Chased by every race in the galaxy. Including his own. Somehow he's started a war. Waves of alien warships are bearing down on Earth.

 

The two most powerful people in the galaxy could stop them.

 

They won't.

 

Instead, they dump humanity's fate on Roy.

 

Now he has to play cat and mouse with a fiendishly clever alien who thirsts for vengeance against humanity.

 

Roy's in way over his head. Nothing new there. But this time the entire human race depends on his finding a way out of this mess.

He'll never give up. But persistence might not be enough this time. He can't do it alone. Can he pull everyone together in time?

 

An epic chapter in the Star Ascension series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeremy Michelson
• Release date: Feb 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224644544

Book preview

PROLOGUE

BROKEN ORBITS

Roy

My good ‘ol boy charm wasn’t working.

Maybe it only worked on Earth.

I was a heckuva long way from my favorite ball of dirt at the moment. Standing in the cold and cavernous dock of an alien space station that smelled of metal and rubber and, strangely, chili peppers. Though that wasn't so strange considering it was a Yevhae world the station was tethered too. The four-armed, wolf-snouted alien race had an aroma that pleasantly reminded me of roasting chili peppers.

It wasn’t a Yevhae I was facing off with at the moment.

No, I was face to face with a lovely lady whom I was inexplicably in an argument with. A lady I loved with every fiber of my being. Who–dang it–wasn’t listening to a word I said.

Momma always told me never to argue with a woman.

But it was Pappy who told me never to win an argument with a woman. Not unless I was willing to pay for it for the rest of my life.

Right then, I was more than willing to pay for it. Just as long as my Ms. Daisy didn’t get on Admiral Kradden’s ship and disappear into the void on that damned fool’s suicide mission.

Daisy Tanaka wasn’t the type of gal a fella could order around, though

She stood a few feet from me, her hands on her hips, a fiery scowl on her lovely face. We were about the same height, she and me, so we were literally eye to eye. Her black hair was cut kinda short in a way that framed her face, accenting her rounded features. She was more compact than curvy, but beneath that crisp, gray Space Defense uniform she wore, she was all muscle.

Her soft brown eyes flashed at me as I stood there, holding my hands out at my sides.

We’d gotten to the point in the argument where I’d stopped demanding and started pleading.

Might have been better if I’d started out with the begging.

The Yevhae working in the cavernous dock on the outer ring of the station were giving us a wide berth. They glanced our way every now and then, pretending to be busy. But most activity in that section of the dock had come to a standstill while Ms. Daisy and I had our discussion.

Yevhae weren’t much for conflict. They preferred getting along with everyone. Well, most everyone.

I think they found humans interesting mainly for our sheer entertainment value.

You want to try wording that differently, Mr. DeHaas? Ms. Diasy said.

I winced. I was in the doghouse for sure when she used Mr. DeHaas.

By this point, I was looking for ways to defuse the situation.

Except I was running out of time.

A klaxon sounded out across the dock. Followed by an announcement over the loudspeaker system. The voice boomed off the curving, gray, metal walls.

All Tennessee Lightning personnel. Last warning. Docking tube will disengage in five minutes.

Ms. Daisy took her hands off her hips. She snatched up the duffle bag that had been sitting at her feet and slung it over her shoulder.

I have to go, Roy, she said, already half turning from me.

I stepped toward her, reaching out.

Daisy, please. Don’t go, I said, Admiral Kradden’s a nutcase. He’s going to get everyone aboard the Tennessee Lightning killed. You can’t chase pirates with just one ship.

Daisy closed her eyes and bowed her head.

Damnit, Roy, she said, If there’s a chance we can put an end to them…I have to do it. If we can chase those Don pirates back to the source...

But–

She held her hand up.

No. Since Chris and Liz won’t stop the Don…well, someone has to. Kradden’s got a plan. Which is more than I can say for anyone else.

That’s not fair. Chris and Liz…they have their own plan. I thought you agreed…

She lifted her head and gave me a long, searching look. Then shook her head.

"I’m not disagreeing…I just want to do something Roy. Come with me, if you want. I can talk to Kradden…"

It was my turn to shake my head. Like hell I’d get aboard that ship with that maniac. Besides…

Dang it, Daisy, I said, You know I’m working on Chris and Liz’s project. I can’t just walk away.

A shrug from her. Why not? I am.

And I couldn’t. Well, I suppose I could. But that wasn’t who I was. I was the dependable type. And I believed in what Chris and Liz were doing.

Unlike some folks I wouldn’t mention. (Cough, cough, Buck.)

It’s not fair to ask me to choose between you and them, I said.

She turned her back on me.

"Life’s not fair, Roy. You know that. I’m tired of waiting. I want to take the fight to those bastards. Make them pay."

Oh, sweetie, the Don are already paying.

But I couldn't tell her that. No one, not even the Don, were going to believe the most hated race in the crumbling collection of alien races that were SevenUnion were victims.

That Chris was still hoping to bring them in from the cold, airless void and make everything whole again.

Personally, I had my doubts.

But I was willing to try.

Nothing good ever came from just killing and killing and killing.

Ending one war just seemed to plant the seeds for the next war.

I wasn’t willing to go as far as my jerkwad brother, Buck–Just kill ‘em all. That’ll stop the war right quick.

Ms. Daisy paused, her back still turned to me. Waiting for…

Waiting for me to say I was wrong and she was right.

But I couldn’t do that.

So, after a couple seconds, she gave up.

She strode off toward the docking tube where the Tennessee Lightning lay docked. That sleek and deadly warship commanded by a man whose brain was slipperier than a barrel full of wet eels.

I watched her disappear into the tube.

And out of my life.

I turned away, my shoulders slumping. My heart was shattered pieces laying in my twisting gut.

There was nothing left for me here.

It was time to go home.

PART 1

SOLDIER’S INCLINATION

ONE

Gunne Winther

The Valdemar Cay was long, sleek, and deadly. Five hundred meters of foamed titanium alloy over a skeleton of glassteel. She had one thousand and twelve gun emplacements. Everything from plasma cannons to megawatt lasers to high-velocity railguns.

If it could be shot, the Vald had a gun for it.

She was also home for two hundred and thirty single-pilot fighter craft, berthed in her lower bays along her keel. There were also three dozen heavy bombers, each with a crew of seven. Tucked in the cavernous bay in front of them were seventy medium bombers.

Those only took a crew of three.

The six hundred and ninety-two pilots had a support crew of six per pilot. Four thousand, one hundred and fifty souls that needed to be fed and clothed and berthed.

For them, there was another twelve hundred crew, just for taking care of the Vald’s systems and for keeping her kitchens open around the clock.

To keep herd on a crew of over five thousand, there were six hundred and seven officers. They oversaw all the various departments and fiefdoms on the ship. Making sure the sewage system didn’t get backed up. Arranging rendezvous with supply ships.

Gathering the captain and her lead officers for the occasional court marshal hearing.

The hearing room was quite nice. Paneled in what looked like actual wood. A golden, knotty pine that was a painful reminder of home.

Gunne’s old bedroom on the farm had similar wood panels. Though, these were probably nicer, assuming they were real.

No reason not to. This was the captain’s personal conference room. She liked nice stuff.

Like the thick, gray carpet covering the metal deck plates on the floor. Luxurious. This was the only room on the entire ship he’d seen carpet. Everyplace else was bare metal deck plates. Hard and utilitarian. Easy to pull up in case repairs were needed on the equipment that ran through the spaces between decks.

He hadn’t seen the captain’s personal cabin. The thick, gray carpet probably extended to there, too.

Even after six years in space, the carpet still had that new carpet smell.

Or maybe he just wasn’t used to it.

There was a long table in the room. Also made of wood. A dark-colored walnut. A real slab of the stuff. Beautiful, with prominent grain. Big enough to land a fighter on.

The table wasn’t oval, wasn’t quite rectangular. It tapered toward the ends, with gentle curves at the corners.

It looked like a nice piece of craftsmanship. A bit of Earth, dragged out into the dark reaches of space.

Along with him.

The MPs had dropped him on the chair at the end near the door. They hadn’t bothered to take the restraints off his wrists. Old style metal cuffs, held together with a short length of chain.

Perhaps from the captain’s personal collection?

Speaking of…

The captain and four of her officers filed in from the other end of the room. They didn’t look his way.

Even though he was the star of this little gathering.

The officers waited for the captain to sit before putting their posteriors down.

The chairs were quite nice, too. Well padded and covered in what might be real leather. Buttery soft and a deep, reddish-brown. The chair he sat on definitely smelled like leather.

Probably would have been more comfortable without the cuffs.

The captain sat at the end of the table, opposite him. The officers sat two to each side of her. They murmured amongst themselves for a few moments as the captain scrolled through something on her tablet computer.

Probably his case file.

There'd be a lot of scrolling for that.

The captain seemed to be a halfway decent person most of the time. For someone who commanded nearly a mile of hot death.

She was short, even for a female. Her body was on the thick side, though none of it was fat. He’d seen her jogging the big oval at the officer’s gym a few times. Most of her was corded muscle. Above her neck she was ice and cunning.

Stupid people weren’t given command of Earth’s mightiest warships.

The Captain wasn’t wearing her dress uniform. She had on standard deep blue Space Corp fatigues. The only signifier of rank were the gold shoulder pins.

She kept her head bent over the tablet. Her short cut, steel gray hair glistened in the overhead light. Her dark skin was lightly lined. Her hands short-fingered, but rock steady.

He really didn’t have anything against her.

It was the system itself that grated on him.

The officers on either side of her were bland and interchangeable.

Except for Romin, directly to her right.

Commander Edward Romin. Second in Command.

Should the captain suddenly cease functioning for some reason, Romin would ascend to the captain’s chair.

That would be bad for a lot of people.

Especially for the idiot sitting at the other end of the table from Romin.

Romin was tall and lean. With dark, deep-seated eyes and a narrow, thin mouth. A knife thin nose parted the middle of his hollow-cheeked face.

The man’s hands were constantly restless. Moving from place to place. Flitting from his chin to his thick, slicked backed, black hair, then back to the tablet computer on the table in front of him.

Romin was the only one looking at him. His mouth was downturned. His eyes full of smoldering fury.

Forgiveness was not part of Romin’s personality.

Which was fine.

Forgiveness was overrated.

Forgiveness was for people who were foolish enough to forget the hateful things other people did.

The captain looked up from her tablet. Her steel gray eyes matched her hair. Though the eyes were more the color of a storm cloud at the moment.

Lt. Gunne Winther, she said.

Gunne nodded. Captain Hadar Malka.

Captain Malka’s stormy eyes narrowed. She lay the tablet on the table. Folded her hands before her.

You are brought here today on charges of insubordination, willful destruction of government property, and conduct unbecoming an officer.

He nodded again. That sounds correct.

Romin’s weasel face twisted with anger. Watch your mouth, Winther. You’re already in enough trouble.

Though probably not as much trouble as Romin hoped. No doubt the Commander would be overjoyed to march him from the brig right to the nearest airlock for a nice, brisk spacewalk. Without the environmental suit, of course.

Captain Malka shot a look at Romin. Who glowered back and sat back in his chair. She glanced down at the tablet in front of her, a frown creasing her brow.

I see the facts laid out here, she said, "But I don’t see the why. Sergeant, remove the prisoner’s restraints."

The MP directly behind him fished an old fashioned key out of his belt and bent down to unlock the cuffs.

The guy was big and beefy, probably outweighing him by seventy pounds at least. The MP whispered to him.

"You try anything funny and I’ll tie your neck in a knot. Got it?"

Understood, Sgt.

The MP wasn’t all muscle like the Captain was. There was a gut overhanging the belt on his standard, dark gray Security Unit fatigues.

Gunne knew seven ways to kill him just from where he sat.

But since this was a formal hearing, he simply brought his hands forward, rubbing his wrists. The MP retreated, the cuffs rattling and clinking as he shoved them in his pocket.

The Captain hardly moved, unlike Romin, who fidgeted like a child who’d just downed a quart of soda pop.

Her stormy eyes held Gunne’s.

Tell me the story from your point of view Lt. Winther, she said.

Captain! Romin said, "The facts are right there in the report, like you said. It’s a clear case of insubordination. Disobeying direct orders from a superior officer. He destroyed two SC-9 Nighthawks. Winther should be thrown into the brig until the next supply rendezvous, and offloaded for shipment back to the Pluto facility. Or spaced out the nearest airlock, considering the severity of his actions."

Slowly, Captain Malka’s head turned toward Romin.

Shut. Up, she said.

Romin’s face went bright red. But his jaw clamped closed. His fingers tapped and fluttered around the edges of the tablet computer he’d brought into the room.

His eyes were full of burning fury. All of it directed down at the other end of the table.

Big baby.

Lt. Winther, the Captain said, Your version, please.

Gunne sat up, his back ramrod straight. The Captain wasn’t asking him to beg for his freedom–or his life. That would be something Romin would do…then push him out the airlock anyway.

No, the Captain was gathering information. Analyzing all the inputs. She wasn’t going to throw away a valuable tool just because her idiot second in command hated someone’s guts.

Gunne lined up the facts in his mind. Short and simple. Just filing another report.

At 16:30 hours I was coming in from patrol with Lieutenants Sterns and Hez. Sterns reported the reactor core on his ship was overheating. He initiated dampening procedure. The failsafes failed. He tried to eject his safety capsule. Which failed to eject. It was at that point, I made the decision to retrieve Sterns from his ship before the reactor core went critical.

Romin jerked forward. You disobeyed a direct order!

Captain Malka turned her head again. Her freezing stare was enough to get Romin to look away, slumping in his seat.

The Captain looked back to Gunne. You were in contact with Flight Control. What did they advise?

Heat rose up Gunne’s neck. He held his hands beneath the table, clenching them into fists.

I was ordered to take my ship away from the blast radius.

But you did not, Captain Malka said.

I did not.

What did you do?

"I disobeyed Commander Romin’s order. I maneuvered my ship over Sterns. Using my starboard laser cannon at low intensity, I cut the canopy from Stern’s ship. Then I blew my canopy and put my control deck over his. I was able to pull him into my ship.

By that point, Sterns’ ship was going critical. I decided the only option to save our lives was to activate the life pod. The pod encapsulated us in stabilizing foam and ejected us from my ship at twelve gees. Hez captured the pod and towed us back to the Vald. After Sterns and I were decanted, I was arrested.

And that was that.

He leaned back in the chair. It really was comfortable. Senior officers got the best perks. They probably got real coffee, not that weird stuff the replicators put out. The science guys kept promising they’d get it dialed in…eventually.

The Captain stared at him with her storm-cloud eyes for a long time. Sitting as still as a statue. Idiot Romin next to her was trying to sit still. And failing. Miserably. He was practically vibrating.

The more upset the man got, the less control he seemed to have over his body.

If anyone needed a short walk out the nearest airlock, it was Romin. Too bad there were cameras monitoring all the public areas of the ship.

Lt. Winther, Captain Malka said, You disobeyed direct orders from a superior officer and caused the destruction of a very expensive fighter craft.

Two, Commander Romin said. Unwisely. "He destroyed two fighters."

Captain Malka's head swiveled slowly to Romin. For a few seconds, Romin tried to stare her down. But he lost, ducking his gaze down at his lap.

"One fighter craft, Malka said, Lt. Sterns ship was already lost, regardless. And I told you to shut up. One more word out of you and you’ll be cleaning grease traps in the enlisted personnel’s galley."

Romin’s cheeks reddened. But he managed to keep his stupid mouth shut.

Malka’s head swiveled back to face Gunne.

We can replace ships, she said, Good pilots are harder to come by. Well done, Lt. Winther. I’ll put in a commendation for you with Space Command. The charges are dismissed.

Romin looked like his head was going to explode.

That would be hilarious.

All of you get out of here, Captain Malka said, Except for you, Winther. You stay.

Romin’s eyes were practically bugging out of his head.

The officer next to him rose and grabbed Romin’s arm. Romin stood and yanked his arm out of the man’s hand. Then he stormed out of the room. The other three officers filed out in silence. The door slid closed with a solid thunk.

The Vald was well built. Unlike the SC-9s. Things hardly ever randomly stopped working. Not like the first ship he’d been stuck on.

The Captain returned to staring at him.

After a full minute of it, he began to squirm almost as bad as Romin.

You’re a helluva pilot, Gunne, she said at last.

He didn’t bother to respond. That he was probably the best pilot on the Vald, if not the entire fleet, wasn’t news to him. He didn’t care, either.

You’re also a discipline problem, she said.

His chest went tight. The fists held under the table clenched even harder. Fingernails dug painfully into his palms. He spat the words from his throat.

I didn’t volunteer for this.

Yeah? So what? Malka said, We’re all here now. Fighting for the right to exist in this universe. Everyone’s involved. Whether they want to be or not.

He shook his head.

The first wave of Blinky ships had been barely beaten back.

People had screamed in relief and joy when the alien warships had been driven from the solar system.

That was before they realized there was another wave behind that one.

And another.

And another…

There were too many.

It was just a matter of time before they reached Earth.

There’s a new program, Malka said, The science boys are working on a different kind of ship. They need a volunteer to pilot it.

He jerked back like she’d slapped him.

Wait a minute, he said.

You just volunteered, Gunne, she said.

I won’t–

We’re coming to port on Hayd’tal in six days for replenishment and R&R. You’ll report to the IntelSec Lab there.

What the hell, Captain? He said, I’m not–

Dismissed.

Malka’s icy eyes held his.

Captain…

Dismissed.

The door behind him opened. The two beefy MPs stepped through.

Time to take a hint. He stood. Turned to leave.

Gunne.

He glanced back. Her face was unreadable. Her hands were still folded in front of her. She’d barely moved during the entire meeting.

Good luck, she said.

He almost told her where to stick her good luck. But Malka wasn’t Romin. There’d be real consequences for crossing her.

If there weren’t already.

The MPs pulled him out of the conference room. Sent him down the corridor.

Hayd’tal? Some Yevhae backwater planet? Why would IntelSec have a lab there?

What kind of ship were they thinking of sticking him with?

He strode down the corridor, his vision red tinged with fury.

Why were people always taking his choices away from him?

TWO

RoyToo

RoyToo's awful childhood ended the day Getik's steel-edged boots hit the decks of The Vandan's Liver.

The arrival of tall, dark and scary Getik heralded the start of RoyToo’s horrible, agonizing transition to even more awful adulthood.

The tentacles on the sides of Getik’s triangular head had all been cut off. Leaving stumps about two inches long. Long scars–which RoyToo later found out were self-inflicted–ran down from the center of his forehead, over his nose and cheeks to his throat. The scars were dark blue, almost purple, against his deep blue skin.

And Getik smelled foul.

All Don smelled bad (to RoyToo). But Getik…there seemed to be something extra rotten emanating from the depths of his terrible soul. It turned RoyToo’s stomach. Which took a lot, considering all he’d endured prior to Getik coming aboard the science vessel.

When Getik smiled (which wasn't a smile at all) he showed sharp, knifelike teeth stained a shiny black. His pupil-less eyes were a deep orange. The color of smoldering coals. Like they could burst into full flame at any moment.

Getik wore a jet black jumpsuit with the sleeves cut off. Revealing long, muscular arms and more dark scars in the shapes of weird symbols.

RoyToo would later learn the meaning of some of those symbols…during the rare moments when Getik wasn’t training him.

And by training Getik meant beating the living crap out of him on a daily basis. Raking RoyToo's pale skin with the sharp, black nails on his long-fingered hands.

RoyToo just couldn’t catch a break.

It didn’t help that at their first meeting Getik yanked a laser cutter out of his iridescent hova skin belt and cut RoyToo’s left leg off just below the knee.

That got their relationship off on the wrong foot. So to speak.

Even now, six years later, Getik haunted his nightmares. And stalked the corridors of the Vandan’s Liver, laying in wait for him during his waking hours.

His life sucked so hard.

Not even Uncle T&T could cheer him up.

Uncle T&T was usually drunk anyway. Or blitzed out of his gourd on whack-jam, a Don fungus that Uncle T&T had figured out how to ferment and cook down into a hallucinogenic substance.

The dude had a talent for finding creative ways to kill his brain cells.

Though if it wasn’t for Uncle T&T, he might have thought life aboard the Vandan’s Liver was perfectly normal.

Having never set foot on a planet…never been anywhere without a roof…or green grass and trees…

Well…the science dudes would have taught him about that stuff anyway. How many hours had he spent watching vids about Earth Culture?

It was always more fun when Uncle T&T watched them with him.

Dude! I remember this movie! There’s like this dude and he’s like mad at this other dude, and then this third dude shows up and there’s a big car chase and they blow the crap out of everything. Hand me that bowl of popcorn bugs, will ya?

The movies never made more sense, but Uncle T&T’s sense of enthusiasm made the dark and foreboding world aboard the Vandan’s Liver a little lighter.

It was even funnier when Uncle T&T lapsed into what he called Pirate Talk and went on how he was the Pirate King.

Captain Pirate King T&T was usually followed by Uncontrollable Sobbing and Blubbering T&T.

This often happened when Uncle T&T was blitzed on whack-jam and tried to get into Mother Lalhan’s cabin.

Much shouting and throwing of objects would ensue. Until a tear streaked Uncle T&T ran from the cabin. Often with fresh scratches on his body.

There was a sense of a complicated relationship there. Since sometimes Mother Lalhan would invite Uncle T&T to her cabin.

Which resulted in different kinds of noises coming from the cabin.

Very complicated, indeed.

RoyToo’s relationship with Mother Lalhan was itself complicated. She would often look at him with naked disgust on her face. She’d say he was the terrible price she had to pay for her duty to the greater glory of the Don.

Other times she’d confront Getik when one of the training sessions got excessively rough.

Stop it! Can’t you see he’s in pain!

Of course, that would only goad Getik.

Pain is glorious nectar to a warrior.

Yeah. Life on this ship was complicated.

Especially when he finally figured out something about all life on the Vandan's Liver–and the Utag's Victory, the battlecruiser he'd been told about, but never been aboard.

Everything revolved around him.

It wasn’t his imagination.

Uncle Science Dude (as Uncle T&T had dubbed Scientist First Class Tey Tabnot) had confirmed it one day as he repaired some Getik induced damage on RoyToo’s tender body.

Yes, your existence is why we stay here, orbiting a dead planetoid. You were created so to drive the knife of vengeance into the hearts of the Don’s enemies. One day you shall fulfill your purpose. And all of our sacrifice will have been worth it.

Uncle Science Dude had turned his back on him at that moment. Murmured words that RoyToo had barely caught…

At least, that is what I tell myself.

The bad part about having the lives of dozens of Dons revolve around him was that almost all of them hated him. Hated the sight of him. Hated the smell of him. Hated that he existed.

Hated that they were trapped here because of him.

For someone who was so important, he had no power at all to control anything about his life.

The only friends he had besides (occasionally) Uncle T&T, were Gesundheit and Ozzy.

And they weren’t too crazy about being stuck on the Vandan’s Liver either.

But they tended to blame Uncle T&T more than they blamed him. So that was okay. They had told him, separately and together at different points that it wasn’t his fault they were stuck in a disgusting, horrifying place with no hope of escape.

They had made poor choices and were now paying for those choices. Possibly for the rest of their miserable lives.

So…misery loved company?

It seemed like everything would continue being miserable and horrible in its terrible, normal way.

Right up until today.

"Get up, taka," Getik said, yanking the thin blanket off RoyToo.

Taka, as Getik had explained in detail, was the excretory endpoint of a slime-covered invertebrate that swam in the oceans of Hejovna. It would attach itself near the anus of ocean-dwelling mammals and eat the poop they excreted.

So…the asshole of a creature that sucked crap for a living.

It was not a compliment, nor a term of endearment.

Getik had told him Don warriors would fling the word at their opponents when they wanted to start a fight.

It was Getik’s name for him.

Getik swung a steel-edged boot at RoyToo's belly.

RoyToo rolled away at the last second.

The boot hit the dented, metal wall. Hard enough to send up a shower of sparks.

RoyToo jackhammered his leg out, aiming for Getik’s crotch.

The jerk easily dodged it. Grabbed RoyToo’s leg and swung his entire body through the air. Slamming him against the opposite wall of the tiny cabin.

The air went out of his lungs. Stars danced in his vision. New aches cried out over old bruises. His whole body was a purple, green, and yellow mass of fresh and healing bruises.

There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t hurt.

Every. Damn. Day.

YOU ARE SHIT! Getik screamed out, YOU ARE NOTHING!

Getik pulled out the yavan from its sheath on his back. The thing Uncle T&T called a hurt-ball bat. A length of black wood, narrower at one end and fat at the other.

The Don sadist wielded it with cruel expertise.

All RoyToo could do was cover his head with his arms as the yavan flashed out again and again. Smacking up and down his body.

Getik didn’t do this at the start of every wake cycle. Just often enough to make RoyToo afraid to sleep too soundly.

Except his traitorous, exhausted body sometimes fell into a deep, deep sleep.

Where his dreams were stalked by versions of Getik and the yavan.

Or the jogded. The handheld laser cutter Getik had used to cut off part of his left leg.

Do you want to kill me! Getik shouted, beating RoyToo’s kidneys in a staccato rhythm.

There was a correct answer here. For Getik anyway.

It was another one of those complicated things. There was a big part of RoyToo that wanted to grab the jogded lop Getik’s ugly, head off.

But there was another part…a much bigger part that just wanted the stunted tentacle headed monster to stop.

Just…stop.

Tell me you want my death! Getik said.

NOOOOO! RoyToo screamed.

Getik let out a wordless howl. A primal scream of rage.

The Don lifted the yavan and beat it against the metal walls of the cabin. Adding more dents.

Dents upon dents, upon dents.

RoyToo huddled in a ball, arms cradling his head. Waiting for the next blows. Which would come harder and faster.

He’d end up in the infirmary again. Uncle Science Dude would have to keep him there for days, using makers to mend his broken bones.

Again.

Getik stopped beating the walls. He stood over RoyToo, breathing hard, his black, knife-like teeth bared and dripping with dark saliva.

He raised the yavan.

This small room was soaked with so much pain…

Maybe one day Getik would actually kill him.

Or maybe one day RoyToo would scream YES when Getik asked the question.

Do you want to kill me!

ENOUGH!

Getik spun.

In the open doorway stood a stooped figure in a black cloak. A cowl covered the figure’s head, shadowing the face inside.

Mother Knotcax.

The hideously old Don woman shuffled into the room. A bitter, acrid scent preceded her. Mother Kayd had told him it was the smell of age. Whatever it was, it about made his eyes water.

Oh, wait, that was the tears of pain leaking down his cheeks. There was so much pain screaming through his body he could barely see straight.

But he lifted his head anyway.

Because this was something new.

Mother Knotcax–the Mother of the Collective that contained only herself and Mother Kayd–had never intervened in one of Getik’s beatings before. If she happened to be in the same room, she might sit and watch with sharp-eyed approval.

But she had never told Getik to stop.

What is it Mother Knotcax? Getik said.

The ship is here, she said.

Getik jerked back, like he’d been slapped.

Already? It wasn’t due for a month.

Plans have changed, apparently, Knotcax said. She waved a hand at RoyToo. Get him to the infirmary. Tabnot will clean him up.

Getik gave her a short bow.

As you will, he said.

Roy sat up, wincing as abused body parts protested. The coppery taste of blood was on his tongue.

What’s happening? He said, What ship?

Knotcax turned to him. Her eyes glittered from the shadows of the cowl.

You moment of destiny is at hand, she said, Or your doom. We shall see.

Before he could ask more, she turned her back and sped from the room in a rustle of robes and bitter scent.

Getik looked down at him. He bared his razor-sharp teeth in a wide grin.

I hope they find you not worthy, he said, It would be my pleasure to finally kill you.

He reached down and yanked RoyToo off the floor and dragged him from the cabin. RoyToo blinked at the sudden light.

His heart pounded against his ribs.

Destiny.

Or doom.

He wasn’t sure which would be worse.

THREE

Gunne

The IntelSec lab was icy cold. It also had a suspicious odor of disinfectant that couldn’t quite cover the sharp tang of human blood that hung in the chill air.

Even the natural, earthy, chili pepper scent of the Yevhae was banished from this place.

The security escort, in black Space Marine Armor no less, had deposited him in what appeared to be an actual lab. There were three rows of stainless steel tables that stretched the length of the room. There were all kinds of equipment hunkered down on the tables, gleaming in the harsh overhead lights.

Nothing he recognized. But then he was a farm boy, not a scientist.

Used to be a farm boy.

Pilot now.

Years back, when they processed him at the recruit center down in Albuquerque, he tested out with over the top numbers for piloting aptitude.

They weren’t wrong.

But it wasn’t something he ever expected to be doing.

Back then, going to space…fighting aliens….

Those weren’t his choices.

The lab was empty of people. Empty of Yevhae, too. He hadn't seen any Yevhae yet. Even though Hayd'tal was in Yevhae controlled space. The Vald had parked in orbit. ShipSec ferried him over to an orbital station. From there he took an elevator down to the surface. It was the first tethered station he'd ever been in. Everything was built for Yevhae shaped bodies….chairs, doors…toilets…but there weren't any of the narrow-hipped, four-armed, wolfish-shaped headed beings around.

Two Space Marines in black Armor had accompanied him from the station to the underground lab.

They didn’t have anything to say. Wouldn’t respond to any questions as the three of them descended through the thick clouds. So he’d stood by the big, curving window and watched.

There wasn’t much to see. He caught glimpses of jagged, gray mountain peaks and lights in darkened valleys.

Much of the land was covered in threads of gray mist. Or smoke.

It wasn’t his idea of a vacation spot.

Neither was this sterile, unsettling, and unoccupied lab.

A door at the other end of the long space opened. From it emerged a tall, emancipated man. He seemed little more than a skeleton with pale skin stretched over his skull. The man slowly walked between the aisles of tables and equipment toward him.

He wore blue Space Command fatigues. Ones that had been tailored to fit his very thin body. His head was completely bald, his face lined, but not aged. His eyes glittered darkly from the pits in his skull, his mouth a narrow slash below his thin nose.

He walked with his hands held behind his back, which had the effect of pulling his narrow shoulders back. The man’s shiny, black boots tapped against the stone floor with each step.

Tap…tap…tap…

After an eternity, he reached the end of the tables and came to stand a few feet away. He moved his head up and down. Looking Gunne over.

Gunne raised his hand and gave the man a curt salute.

Lt. Winther reporting. As ordered, he said.

The corners of the man’s lips curled up. His eyes were shadowed by his brow. It was impossible to tell what color they were. Or if he even had eyes. Maybe he just had shiny black marbles in his eye sockets.

You are a fine specimen, Lt. Winther, the man said.

Heat rose up Gunne’s neck. Specimen.

You’re just meat to them. Follow orders and be good at something and they’ll treat you all right. Just don’t expect any respect.

He could still hear the cadence of those words. The man who spoke them was dead. Scattered bits of flesh on an alien battlefield.

Don’t expect any respect.

I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Sir, Gunne said.

The man didn’t have an insignia of rank on his uniform. That in itself was a bad sign. IntelSec was already a squirrelly arm of the Earth Defense Command.

Space Command, at least, had a clear purpose. A mission that was at least somewhat relatable.

IntelSec…

They were rumored to have a lack of…oversight.

The man in the blue Space Command uniform smiled a little broader, revealing small, perfectly even teeth.

We have not, the man said, I am Director Columbus. You will have to excuse me for not shaking your hand. I find such contact…complicated.

The man brought his hands out from behind his back.

Gunne sucked in a breath. An electric jolt went through his body. A big part of him wanted to jump back. Turn and run.

Of course, he didn’t.

This was all part of his penance.

There was nowhere to run anyway.

Director Columbus held up his hands.

Which were not hands in any human sense. What he had were metal tentacles the color of blued gunmetal that sprouted from metal stumps at the end of his wrists. The tentacles–Gunne couldn’t quite count how many there were per hand–were of various lengths and thicknesses.

The tentacles writhed like handfuls of angry snakes. Clicking and snapping against each other.

Gunne tore his gaze away from them. Back to the Director’s shadowed eyes.

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Director Columbus, he said, I was ordered here by my Captain. She indicated there is a new type of ship that I am supposed to pilot. I would like to see any prototypes you have and look over your documentation for its operation.

The Director’s smile broadened. Revealing his lower set of teeth. Except they weren’t any actual teeth. Just a smooth, curving, silver metal band below his normal teeth.

What the hell was this guy?

Of course, Lieutenant, Columbus said, But first, you must be prepared to meet your new bride.

Gunne’s blood ran cold.

What?

Columbus’ left hand shot out. A single, thin tentacle separated from the pack. It slapped against Gunne's neck. It stung like an angry bee.

Gunne leapt back.

The two Armored guards blocked the doorway.

A wave of dizziness washed through him. The world wavered and began to dim.

He clawed at the black Armor in front of him.

He needed to get out of there.

But that choice was never an option.

You’re just meat to them…

Consciousness faded away, delivering him into darkness.

FOUR

RoyToo

Uncle T&T had given him his name.

RoyToo.

He’d never thought about his name before. It was just what everyone called him.

Well…actually there were only a handful of people who called him RoyToo. Uncle T&T, Gesundheit, Ozzy…sometimes Mother Kayd.

Most everyone else used descriptive words when they were talking to or about him. Usually words associated with the end product of the digestive process.

But today, meeting the new Don, the one who arrived in the new ship, RoyToo found out he had a different name.

Sorta different.

They had gathered in Uncle Science Dude’s lab. A confusing place of strange equipment and shiny surfaces that smelled sharply of cleaning fluids. Which didn’t quite cover the odor of the dead flesh displayed in clear containers along one wall.

The Don–a male of imposing height and width of chest–ordered him to stand in place. RoyToo complied, doing his best impression of a body turned to stone. There was a forlorn hope within his heart that if he did exactly as this Don said, then perhaps beatings would not be delivered. Or, maybe the beatings would be lighter.

Because, in his experience, new Dons equaled pain.

At the very least, he fervently hoped the new Don wouldn’t lop off any more body parts.

If the Don pulled a laser knife out…there was going to be a fight. Maybe those skills Getik had been beating into him would come in handy.

Getik stood off to one side, arms crossed over his chest and leaning back against a table. His deep orange eyes seemed to warn RoyToo against trying anything.

But that was probably just his imagination.

Getik would never give him any warning.

Uncle Science Dude–Tey Tabnot–stood behind a large table. No doubt keeping as much distance as he could from Getik. The scientist seemed nervous, picking at his gray tunic and shifting back and forth on his feet.

The only other person there was Mother Knotcax. Almost shapeless in the black robe covering her from head to toe. All that was visible within her shadowed cowl was her pointed chin. Even her hands were held together within her voluminous sleeves. She stood near the doorway, exuding her usual bitter scent.

The new Don slowly walked around RoyToo in a circle. This Don wore a black uniform without any signifier of status or rank. Most uniformed Dons had colored bands or threads on their clothes.

This one was just…darkness.

The new Don wasn’t old like Captain Hyvant. His face was unlined, his tentacles thick and glossy and full of color. He stroked his pointed chin as he circled RoyToo. Studying him from head to toe.

RoyToo did his best to breathe shallow and stare straight ahead.

The lab was a place of pain.

Most of the ship was a place of pain, actually.

But the lab held different types of pain. He didn't receive beatings here. Instead, Uncle Science Dude would use his strange instruments to probe RoyToo's body.

None too gently, either.

So this is it? The new Don said, I’ve seen pictures and vids of the original. Is there some resemblance? It’s hard to tell any difference with these disgusting creatures.

Original?

The new Don stopped and turned to face Uncle Science Dude.

Well, Scientist First Class Tey Tabnot, the new Don said, Explain to me that this thing is what the Queen ordered.

Ordered?

Uncle Science Dude fidgeted and cleared his throat.

I have the full records and specifications.

The new Don waved his hand dismissively.

I’ve already seen all that, he said, "What I want to know is…Will this thing do what it’s supposed to?"

It is difficult to train, Getik said from his perch against the table, It is quite stupid.

Heat flushed RoyToo’s cheeks. Stupid. He heard that. A Lot. And not just from Getik.

Thing was…he didn’t feel stupid. He spent his days watching out for the next blow coming his way. Despite what that jerk Getik said, he was learning what Getik was teaching. It was just that Getik was so much better at fighting.

The new Don–who no one had actually named yet–again waved away the words.

I don’t care about his fighting skills, the Don said, "What I want to know is if this thing can pass as the original. Who can tell me that?"

The original.

A cold, greasy lump formed in the pit of RoyToo’s stomach.

A part of him had always known this day would come. He was reminded every day that he was different. All he had to do was look in a mirror for that. But he’d also figured out that there was a purpose to him being here. For all these people to be here with him at the center of it all.

Sometimes he had nightmares about it. Of being someday called before a huge, faceless figure. Now you shall know why you are here…

He always woke up before finding out.

Until now.

Mother Knotcax stepped forward.

Duke Mazkett, she said, "There is one on the Vandan’s Liver who knew the…subject."

Mother Knotcax, no! Uncle Science Dude said. He pulled at the tentacles drooping from the side of his head. Uncle Science Dude's tentacles were always floppy and kinda gray. Whenever RoyToo saw him any more, the scientist's hands trembled and he often turned his head away from him.

The new Don, who was Duke Mazkett, apparently, turned to Mother Knotcax. He smiled at her, revealing rows of bright white, razor-sharp teeth.

The brain damaged Terran? He said, What use is he?

He knew the original of this, Mother Knotcax said, pointing directly at RoyToo.

The shape of his destiny was starting to form in his mind. It wasn’t anything he expected.

Or wanted.

But then, what choice was he ever given? About anything.

Duke Mazkett ran his long fingers over his pointed chin again. He turned his attention to RoyToo.

And you have not yet integrated the brain scan? He said.

For a second RoyToo thought Mazkett was talking to him. Then the Duke’s gaze flicked away. To Uncle Science Dude.

Tabnot shook his head, making his tentacles flop about his face.

No. I am having second thoughts about the brain scan integration, he said, There is substantial risk…

Duke Mazkett’s eyes narrowed. RoyToo could almost hear his thoughts. Weakling.

Some Don were viscous. Mean. Like Getik. And Mother Knotcax. They enjoyed making things hurt.

Duke Mazkett looked like one of those Dons.

"I’m not interested in your fears, Mazkett said, The Queen wants results. The strength of the Terran forces grows hour by hour. They can be cunning fighters, in their own way. We need leverage. If this thing– he pointed to RoyToo again, Can unlock the Terran's secrets…can give us Dendon, then the Don will be unstoppable. We will reclaim our homeworld. We will rule the galaxy."

RoyToo's mind spun. Of course, he knew there was a universe beyond the hull of the Vandan's liver…

But it seemed like it was a lot bigger…and nastier…than he could ever imagine.

How soon can the brain scan be integrated? Duke Mazkett said.

Uncle Science Dude hung his head.

It can be ready in a few hours, he said.

You have one hour, Mazkett said. He turned to Mother Knotcax. Summon the other Terran. I wish to interrogate him.

Interrogate! Uncle T&T?

Knotcax whispered into a comm on her wrist.

He will be brought here immediately, she said.

RoyToo swallowed the lump in his throat. Uncle T&T was practically his only friend on the ship. At least, he was the only person who looked like him. Everyone else was so different. Gesundheit and Ozzy were friendly enough. But they were a little hard to relate to. Especially Ozzy.

Really hard to relate to an animated bundle of sticks.

Duke Mazkett turned back to him. He snapped his fingers at Uncle Science Dude, who was working frantically with a handheld computer.

Put some images up on the screen, he said, I wish to compare for myself.

Uncle Science Dude froze. Then he put the computer down and picked up another tablet. His fingers flew over the surface.

The most recent images we have were captured by ImpSec agents on Lev’ya in Yevhae controlled space eighteen months ago, Uncle Science Dude said, The subject has been spending more time on Earth as of late, as far as ImpSec can tell.

Do not presume to tell me what ImpSec does or does not know, Mazkett said.

Uncle Science Dude went a few shades paler. His fingers trembled as they tapped the face of the tablet.

A holographic image formed at the near end of the room.

The edges of the image were fuzzy, but the center of it was knife sharp. It appeared to be taken in a cavernous metal room. A space station dock? People dotted the floor of the room, mostly Yevhae. But at the very center of the image was a human man and woman.

A least he assumed they were human. They looked like humans in the movies Uncle T&T had shown him.

The man and woman were standing apart from each other. The woman had short cut dark hair and brown colored skin. She wore a dark gray uniform.

She looked angry. Her brows pulled low, her mouth downturned and her hands on her hips.

The man looked upset. Like he was trying to explain something important, but was failing.

He seemed familiar.

Duke Mazkett looked from the image to RoyToo and back again.

They don’t appear alike, he said.

Mazkett waved his hand at RoyToo.

This one’s facial and head appendages are unlike the one in the image, he said, "This looks like a failure to me, scientist."

Uncle Science Dude when a couple shades paler. His tentacles quivered. Along with the rest of his body. Duke Mazkett sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes narrowed to slits. His lips curled back, his pointed teeth glistening.

RoyToo almost yelled at the scientist to run.

But that would be a mistake. If Duke Mazkett’s predator’s instinct was inflamed…running would only turn him into a raging, blood lusting beast.

That RoyToo knew, wasn’t something to be at the wrong end of.

I assure you Duke Mazkett, Uncle Science Dude said, The samples were correct. The differences you see are minor. And easily corrected.

It’s the hair. Yar.

Everyone turned to the voice.

Uncle T&T leaned a shoulder against the doorway. Blocked from entering by Mother Knotcax.

They didn’t like each other very much.

That mutual hate may have been the reason Mother Kayd let Uncle T&T into her cabin occasionally.

Mother Knotcax really hated that.

Yet she seemed to be unable to prevent it from happening.

He just needs a haircut and a shave, Uncle T&T said, Then he’ll be the spitting image of him. Yar.

Uncle T&T stared at him in that strange way he did sometimes. A cold, half amused, half angry look.

Duke Mazkett looked back and forth. "What does this creature mean? What hair?"

Uncle Science Dude cleared his throat.

"The Terrans bodies grow fibers on their skin. The fibers grow in different colors and coarseness. The majority of the hair grows on their head and their reproductive areas."

Mazkett’s narrow nose wrinkled. He looked RoyToo up and down.

Disgusting, he said.

He just needs a haircut, Uncle T&T said, Anybody got a scissors? Yar.

Scissors? Mazkett said.

Yeah, Uncle T&T said. He held up his hand and made a motion with two of his fingers. An opening and closing motion. You know. Snip. Snip.

At the blank looks, Uncle T&T rolled his eyes.

Geeze. I’m too freaking old to explain scissors to you people, he said, I need a light cutting tool that won’t break the skin. I’ll fix him for you. Just don’t beat him up, okay?

Duke Mazkett snapped his fingers at Uncle Science Dude. Get him a tool such as he described.

Uncle Science Dude put his handheld computer down, once again. With a small sigh. He wandered down the long table, muttering to himself.

So you’re the Big Kahuna, eh? Uncle T&T said.

Mazkett snapped his attention back to Uncle T&T.

"What is Big Kahuna?" He said, his voice low and dangerous. Mazkett’s long fingers hooked into claws.

Uncle T&T didn’t seem concerned. He shrugged his shoulders.

It's like a boss. Or an unofficial king. Somebody important. That's you, right? Mr. Important? Yar.

For a long moment, RoyToo wasn't sure if Duke Mazkett was going to attack or not. The Don's eyes were just orange lines between his narrowed lids. His teeth were bared, glistening with saliva. His shoulders hunched and he flexed his knees.

Then Uncle T&T yawned and farted.

Loudly.

He waved his hands near his posterior.

Whew…the food around here gives me some monster gas, he said, Worse than those five bean burritos I used to get from that one taco stand down in Little Mexico.

Mazkett blinked. Straightened up.

What is this thing? He said.

Mother Knotcax blew out an aggrieved sounding sigh. Getik, who had been so still and quiet, RoyToo had nearly forgotten he was still leaning against the nearby table, said:

He does that to everyone. Captain Hyvant will not let us kill him.

You can’t kill me, Uncle T&T said, I’m T&T the Pirate King. Because I’m dynamite.

When no one spoke, Uncle T&T rolled his eyes.

Jeeze. It’s not as cool when I have to explain it, he said.

Before Duke Market or Mother Knotcax could say anything, Uncle Science Dude walked up with a short, gray cylinder in his hand.

The sight of it opened a door in RoyToo’s mind.

Gibbering terror rushed out of it.

He screamed and jumped in the opposite direction, kicking out at Uncle Science Dude. The cylinder flew from Tabnot’s hand.

RoyToo hobbled back. His prosthetic leg slipped out from under him. He tumbled to the floor. Tried to roll for the attack he knew was coming.

But Getik was too fast.

The Don was on him in an instant, corded muscles slamming against RoyToo’s body. Knocking the breath out of him. Pinning him to the cold, metal deck.

RoyToo screamed and thrashed. He clawed at Getik. But the Don simply slapped his hands away.

You’re not cutting pieces off me! RoyToo screamed.

Getik rolled off him. Grabbing his hands and twisting them up behind his back. Pain lanced through him.

Be still, Getik growled in his ear, Or I’ll break them off and make you eat them.

RoyToo stopped his struggles, hanging his head in defeat.

Getik’s threats were never idle ones. He would follow through.

Uncle T&T came up to him.

Hey, kid, take it easy, he said, This isn’t going to hurt. Humans cut their hair all the time. It just grows back. Take a look.

RoyToo raised his head. Uncle T&T took a lock of his own shaggy hair and brought the laser knife up to it. A flash of red light and the lock of hair fell away. Leaving only a wisp of smoke and an acrid burned stink in the air.

See, no biggie, Uncle T&T said, Now hold still.

As if he had a choice with Getik holding him in a lock.

He closed his eyes as Uncle T&T raised the laser knife.

The knife buzzed. The air hissed as the knife passed through it. The acrid smoke was the smell of his hair burning. Heat moved over his face. Down his cheeks and jaw. Over his skull.

His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest. Sweat slicked his palms and brow.

Finally, after an eternity, Uncle T&T pulled back.

Damn, he said, I shoulda been a hairdresser. Yar.

RoyToo opened his eyes. Uncle T&T grinned and winked. He tossed the laser knife over his shoulder. Uncle Science Dude tried to catch it.

And failed.

The laser knife clattered to the deck, with Tabnot scrambling after it.

Uncle T&T ran his fingers through his thick shaggy, gray hair.

Let the kid go, Getik, he said, Let us take a look at him.

Getik didn’t take orders from Uncle T&T. Though, he did often go out of his way to avoid him.

But Duke Mazkett must have given him some sort of signal. Getik released RoyToo’s arms and backed away.

RoyToo rubbed his arms, stepping farther away from Getik. His face was suddenly cold. He reached up and gasped at the bare skin there. The skin tingled at his touch. His hands roved over his head.

His hair…most of it was gone. Except for a thin layer over his head and a stubbly area around his mouth and chin.

What did you do! He shouted.

Uncle T&T, for once, lacked any expression.

Yar. Just trying to help you stay alive kid, he said.

Duke Mazkett stepped up to him. Roughly grabbed his chin, turning his head back and forth. The Don looked up to the image still hovering near the wall.

Yes…now I see, he said, Very good.

The Duke smiled and nodded.

Hey, Science Dude, Uncle T&T said, Give the kid a look at himself.

Tabnot glowered at Uncle T&T, but his fingers flowed over his tablet again. A second screen fuzzed to life next to the first. As the image cleared, RoyToo realized it showed the man on the other screen. Except he was standing in the lab with Uncle T&T, Getik, Uncle Science Dude…and Duke Mazkett and Mother Knotcax.

But that didn’t make sense. That human wasn’t…

It’s me, he breathed.

It’s you, Uncle T&T said, And it’s him. Though I think he was him first before you were him.

A shuddering chill went through RoyToo.

…before you were him.

Who is he? He said.

He’s Roy DeHaas, Uncle T&T said, And you’re Roy, too.

And that was why Uncle T&T called him RoyToo.

It wasn’t his name.

It was Uncle T&T’s little joke.

Or maybe he’d been trying to warn him.

FIVE

Gunne

Gunne woke with a pounding headache. So bad that it felt like elves with mallets were hammering his head from all sides. Like any second they were going to break through his skull and smash his brain to pudding.

The astringent stink of disinfectant hit him next. So strong he swore he could feel his nose hairs curling from it.

The next body part to chime in on the misery was his stomach.

It twisted and lurched, sending waves of powerful nausea rolling through him.

Then he was twisting on his side, vomit rocketing from his mouth in a foul stream.

He lay there, gasping and spitting, body racked with spasms for what felt like forever. The stink of his puke sent him to another round of upchucking.

Finally, he managed to get at least part of his body under control. He curled up in a ball, cradling his stomach. The pounding in his head kept on…a riot of little jackhammers in his skull. He could barely pull a single thought together.

He blinked his eyes, but all he got was darkness. Locked in some blacked out room?

He reached out, running his fingers along what he lay on. A thin pad over a metal frame. It didn’t feel like a hospital bed.

More like a jail.

For several seconds he lay still, trying to listen through the throbbing in his head. There were sounds of air moving through a vent. A distant hum that could be a power plant. Or someone running a floor cleaner.

He dragged his attention away from his senses. Went to dig up the memories that happened before being stuck in this dark place. The way his head hurt, the roiling nausea in his gut…it would have made sense that he was in a bar fight and had gotten his can tossed in the local brig.

But he didn’t drink. Didn’t take any enhancements.

So…no bar fight.

Then…what?

He’d come to the Yevhave controlled planet…

The lab…

The IntelSec guy with…

Metal tentacles for hands…

He clenched his fists. Heat rose up his neck. Bastard had attacked him. Injected him with something from one of those creepy tentacles.

What did they do to him?

He ran his hands up over his skull. His fingers found bare skin. They’d shaved his hair off. And…

The tips of his fingers touched a cool, small, smooth circle embedded in his skull. Small. Then another. And another.

Metal circles studded all over his head.

Oh god…

What did they do to him?

He bit