Syndicate's Pawns (3 page)

“Yes, I desire that very much.” It was what she said, but it was not what she desired. What Jessie desired was a friendly human face; a person to hold her and tell her that everything would be all right. Chord did not argue with her. Instead Chord got to its feet and left Jessie alone in the cantina.

“This unit will fetch the doctor for you.”

“You do that, machine.” Jessie's last word was an almost venomous hiss. Part of her was vainly hoping that this would somehow hurt Chord's nonexistent feelings. Chord gave her a brief confused look. Then without adding another word, it turned and stepped out of the cantina.

 

CHAPTER 2

DOMIANT

The Elvrids of Uldur have often relied on the use of various psychedelic plants to perform their rituals and spiritual practices. The teachings and uses thereof remain to this day one of the most tightly kept secrets in the Infinite. It has not prevented certain more ambitious Sefts from entering the smuggling business. Many of these plants, once crudely processed, can produce very powerful and addictive narcotics. The most recent of such designer drugs from Uldur is commonly known as “Frost.” The control of the smuggling routes and markets in which the drugs are sold is played out in the shadows. As of this report countless are the lives that have been lost in these secret wars and unless those responsible can be brought to face justice, we can expect to see countless more.

—­
Etrica Malaz Nem'Troy, Covenant Auditor,
13th of SSM–11 1440 A2E

13th of SSM–10 1445 A2E

E
ver since his exile, Domiant Kuaro Nem'Uldur had found very little that gave him any sense of joy. Now, as he was being treated to the pleas of mercy from the captives before him, Domiant found he felt something closely resembling that emotion. And because of this, he made it a point to savor the moment for what it was.

“Do what you will to me, just spare my son.”

The hardest part of the day's task had been dragging the unconscious bodies of Somner Zin, his son Pleto and his brother Vint into the ship's airlock. This was to prevent blood from spilling over into the
Althena
. It would also make the ensuing disposal and cleanup that much easier. Now Domiant Kuaro Nem'Uldur patiently waited for what could only be described as a torturous ritual to play itself out.

The three captives were all that remained of the Zin Triad, third rate smuggling contractors operating out of the desert world of Zerok. Up until three months ago, they had been under the employ of Domiant's Seft: Kuaro. The agreement between Somner Zin, the man who was presently pleading for his son, and Ynarra Kuaro Nem'Troy, the Prime Matriarch of his Seft Kuaro, Domiant's family, had been a simple one. They were to smuggle shipments of Soma Divinorum, or Diviner's Herb as it was known amongst the Elvrids, from forever green and verdant Uldur to the cursed industrial cloner nation of Lotus.

From there the merchandise was meant to be processed into Frost and would have yielded a handsome profit for Seft Kuaro. But instead of delivering on their side of the bargain, Somner and Pleto had chosen to take their payment, steal the Seft's priceless produce and sell it, keeping all the profits for themselves.

Being Kelthans, Somner had figured there was no way the Living Green–worshiping and not so tech savvy Wolvers of Uldur would be able to retaliate against them. And while it was true that Prime Matriarch Ynarra Kuaro Nem'Troy was lacking in many of the cutting-­edge technologies offered throughout the cosmos, what she
did
have was an extremely well-­maintained information network and ruthless reputation. Two coded messages on the Elusive Frequency were all it had taken for Ynarra to discover where Somner and his crew had been holed up. It had taken only one more to secure the transport vessel
Althena
and a crew for Domiant and his sister, Sopherim, to deliver Seft Justice to those traitors.

“I offer no apologies to you, Somner of the Kelthan Seft Zin.” When he spoke, Domiant Kuaro Nem'Uldur's tone was incredibly commanding. The inner door to the airlock had been left open to better torment his victims before the door would be sealed and they were dispatched. The three men tightly bound and hanging upside down, their eyes wide with fear and apprehension in the sterile airlock, reminded Domiant of cattle about ready to be slaughtered. Given what was about to transpire, he found it a more than fair assessment of the situation.

“None of you will be surviving this,” Domiant added with a tone of finality. And with that he made himself comfortable, sitting on one of the many heavy crates in the cargo bay.

Two women were in the cargo bay with Domiant. One was his older sister, Sopherim Kuaro Nem'Troy. Sopherim's look and arsenal starkly contrasted with their location. She was taller than Domiant, her chin sharp, her eyes yellow hinting on gold. She wore a loose fitting black blouse with a deep V-­neck. Her hair, dark black, was done in a long braid that went down to the small of her back. Blue, orange and red beads were woven into the braid, and clasped around her wrist was a plain jade bracelet with a spear-­beaked crane carved in it. Looped inside a brown sash at her waist and sheathed in an even plainer brown scabbard was a long curved blade. Its name was “Pax Slayer” and Sopherim had earned her right to wield it after besting three other challengers for it in single combat.

Notched leather bracers with various knives were strapped over her shoulders. A quiver filled with long arrows hung off her side and a bow was held in her hand. Sopherim's stance was alert, ready and cold. Whether she looked forward to or was repulsed by the task about to be performed it was not betrayed on her face. Unlike Domiant, whose entire body was covered in a thin layer of black hair except for his face, Sopherim's was a mixture of browns and blacks.

Hooded and covered in a long black cloak that went down to her feet, their other companion stood well away from both Domiant and Sopherim. Her entire body was covered, but what little parts were exposed had been more than enough to unnerve the three prisoners—­and Domiant himself. The skin of her hands was khaki green and possessed a scale-­like quality to it.

However it was her eyes, the only part of her face visible from beneath her hood, which Domiant found most troubling. They were large, a mixture of aquamarine blue and emerald green. The pupils were not round like most Humanis; rather they were serrated, with small black dots that reminded Domiant of a gecko. Her name was Zanza Ai Karai, a Kohbran mind lector, and, despite her troubling presence, a most valuable piece of talent to have working for him. It was still a mystery to Domiant what strings his mother had pulled in order to secure the likes of Zanza for this mission.

Like most Kohbran, she reminded Domiant more of a reptile than Humanis. While Zanza had her uses, neither he nor Sopherim had ever allowed her too near to them. Given enough time and contact with a subject, a mind lector could glean even the deepest of secrets from anyone. It was why the Kohbran were often mistrusted throughout the cosmos and completely shunned in the reviled Pax Humanis.

“I would like to get this done sooner rather than later, little brother.” When Sopherim spoke her tone was dispassionate, much like her demeanor. Domiant had spent his early years in life studying the languages spoken in Covenant Space and was fluent in both Pax Common (or PaxCom) and Confederated Kelthan; his older sister could only speak in their native Wolven. Sopherim's trade-­off for her lack of linguistic and academic expertise was a fluency in Wolver martial arts and weapons. Fortunately for them everyone else serving on the
Althena
spoke only PaxCom, something their mother had no doubt set up on purpose.

“Right you are, Sopherim.”

Sopherim nodded, and in one perfectly practiced motion, she notched an arrow in her bow and drew back the string. As a Blade Dancer, she had killed countless beasts for slaughter and had a near surgical knowledge of the body. “Which one do I send to the Great Huntress?” Sopherim might as well have been asking about the weather for all the emotion she displayed.

“Mister Vint.” Domiant flashed Sopherim a wolfish grin; it was not returned. Upon hearing his name, Vint's eyes went wide. Sopherim notched her arrow and he started to struggle and squirm against his bindings. There was no hope of escape, though. Sopherim had expertly tied the knots herself.

There was something incredibly satisfying in watching those who deserved to suffer receive their dues. And given that Domiant would have done just about anything in order to return to beautiful Uldur, the center of Wolver culture, politics and religion rather than remain in the filthy storage bay of the even filthier transport vessel
Althena
, he would take whatever small measure of joy that he could.

“Those who die in the void are lost to the Living Green.” Sopherim did not blink as she loosed the arrow. The shaft flew across the cargo bay and found its mark. Right between the eyes of Vint Zin, who let out a shocked gasp and spasmed violently as his life left him.

The young man in the middle, Pleto Zin, was no more than a year older than Domiant and started to blubber in fear. “Infinite, help us!” he shrieked. “We'll pay you back! We'll pay you back!”

Domiant got to his feet and walked over to Pleto Zin. He shushed him with one finger on his lips. “We were not sent across the cosmos on a mission of mercy, Kelthan. This is your ending.” He patronizingly patted Pleto's face before adding, “Try to face it with a semblance of dignity.”

“Please! Do what you will to me! Just spare my son!” Somner Zin begged Domiant through his broken teeth and swollen lips.

“Oh, do shut it, you old hump.” Domiant wheeled around to face Somner and slapped him across the face. “You stole from Ynnarra Kuaro Nem'Troy.”

Domiant sneered with disgust as he looked at the blood on his hand. He wiped it off on Somner's chest. “And because of you, I am here! On this ship with air that smells like sweat, blood and piss!”

“Please . . .” Domiant slapped Somner once more, silencing him.

“We were told to make you suffer for what you did. Your replacement will think long and hard before crossing us.”

Domiant turned to face Zanza and nodded at her. “Make him experience his worst fears.”

Zanza silently made her way past Domiant and into the airlock. Each step she took caused her to sway in a manner that made him think “serpent.” Because of this he gave her a wide berth as he made his way back to his sister's side. Meanwhile, Zanza knelt down in front of Somner, his eyes now gone even wider with panic.

“You keep that, that . . . reptile away from me. Keep her away from m—­”

Zanza quickly and softly touched Somner's chest. Her pupils were fully dilated as she locked her gaze with his.

“Your thoughts are now mine.” When Zanza spoke, her voice was a soft whisper. Both Somner and Zanza started to breathe together as one. Sopherim notched another arrow in her bow and waited.

“The left kneecap.” Zanza called out as she unearthed Somner's greatest fears with regards to what he did not wish to have done to his son. Domiant thought this a delicious punishment that his mother would no doubt have approved. After all, there could be no greater suffering than forcing a parent to watch the life of their child being taken from them, bit by painful bit.

Sopherim let loose another arrow and it went through Pleto's kneecap. Pleto let out a loud and pained scream as he looked at the shaft. Much to Domiant's satisfaction, Somner was now gibbering uncontrollably.

“The other kneecap.” Zanza's voice lost none of its whisper-­like quality.

“Please spare my . . .” Sopherim ignored Somner completely as she fired yet again and found her mark with deadly precision. Pleto's screams doubled in intensity. They were accompanied by Somner's agonized and outraged howls.

“THE INFINITE ERODE YOU BOTH! FILTHY WOLVER DOGS!”

“His genitals.”

Another arrow found its mark. Domiant savored this moment. The Living Green bless him but he could watch his sister ply her craft all day. “I will remind you, Somner, that the blame for this is on you. My sister and I are simply the tools of your demise.”

“Any one of the eyes,” Zanza called out. Another arrow was fired and another mark found. It was a testament to Sopherim's self-­control that she could loose the arrow with just enough strength to pierce Pleto's eye but not go through to the brain. She would only end his misery when Domiant ordered her to do so.

“The Great Huntress calls for us all, and today is your day.” Sopherim spoke the words as the Elvrids, the keepers of the Living Green's teachings and knowledge, had taught her. They were void of meaning to Domiant as he was far more skeptical about the Elvrids and the path of the Living Green. Exile from Uldur could do that to you. No matter what his ancestors' motives might have been, the Living Green reminded him more and more of a doctrine of control. Where the Kelthans of the hateful Pax Humanis fell under the military rule of the Hegemon, the Wolvers fell under the spiritual rule of the Elvrids.

“This is no true test of my talents.” Sopherim spoke; where Wolven was often very emotional, almost musical, Sopherim's tone was cold, yet not void of contempt at the deed she was being called to do. “May I end him now?”

“I'm sorry to interrupt all this.” Before Domiant could answer the question there was a cleared throat coming from the entrance of the cargo bay. Standing in the archway was a woman. Her face was covered in several unhealthy raw pink blotches, and her deep brown eyes were bloodshot, the veins almost black. Her skin was light brown and her hair was shaved into a purple Mohawk. Both the base of her neck and her forearms had black, coin-­shaped pieces of plastic grafted into them. These disgusting neuro-­link augments were what allowed a besotted Frost addict like Mikali Zahur to crack digital codes and fire her barbaric mass-­produced factory-­made weapons with a semblance of accuracy.

Mikali was a contractor his mother had hired on several occasions. The fact that she was willing to do any job in order to get her money and a steady supply of Frost was the main reason Ynarra Kuaro had kept her as a regular employee of the Seft. While the Elvrids would have found working alongside a technologically augmented Humanis an unforgivable sin, punishable by eternal exile from Uldur, they did not have an influential smuggling empire to run and maintain.

“Well, out with it, Mikali.”