Page 53 of Defiance
“Oh no, is that a power surge?” she lamented dryly. Her comms cut out in a blip of bright light. Her ship, theTidus,would go dark until they knew what that HIXBS vessel was capable of.
“We’ll update our team and put theYafridion high alert,” Vindilus said. “Comms out.”
Ferulis brought up his own vessel’s biometric locks and transferred command to Agent Dasin.
“Head to Piaoguo. Agent Gaul needs back-up.”
Dasin’s tail swung across the grated floor. “That’s a four-sol skip, sir. Minimum. Can’t Commander Xata take care of it? Her crew?”
“Guei’s on the council, son. She knows all of my covert assets,exceptthat you’re new on my roster. And that’s a two-sol skip. My ship has the highest chainskip priority in the Union. Her logs ghost out too. No one will know you’re there as long as you don’t park her next to the HIXBS cruiser like an idiot,” he told his newest recruit.
“Yes, sir.”
“And us, sir?” Baellanus raised his brow plate.
Ferulis sighed, feeling the age in his hip for real this time. “We’re clearing the ship while we wait for a tugboat. Dasin’s tin can will have an extra BDRE and firearms.”
“No one’s alive in the ionizer mist,” Bael said. “The ship confirmed no vitals onboard. No crew or bodies.”
Ferulis gave him an unamused glare. “Dolls don’t have vitals when they’re powered down, and if a ship’s manifest lists bodies as cargo, they don’t show up in vitals sweeps anyway. Imani Renatex can vouch for that. Call your brother. Grab the BDREs. Go.”
Baellanus nodded his head and strode away. Once his two men were gone, Ferulis sat, extending his bionic leg out in front of him with a hiss. He pulled the chrome bone from the inside of his jacket and took a long drag.
Drained, hopeful, bitterly aware of his age, Ferulis opened his messages from Ezraji Zarabi and scrolled through snaps of Novit, Matteo, and Amelia to give him strength.
22
My favorite story was that very first one.
The arms master, a massive red venandi with short spires and a lot of pointy edges, got stuck in the vents on a crusade to smuggle porn chips into their shared quarters at the HIXBS flagship campus on Huajile. The staff had to tear out the wall to get him out, and the raucous was so disruptive that Novak was able to slip out for two straight days before his tracking cuff starting vibrating ominously. He ate stolen street food, snuck into a peep show, and smuggled not only porn chips, but also vapes, sodas, and snacks.
It was the first of many escapades out into the black markets. Novak ended up controlling the entire illicit supply chain among the lab orphans. He was also the defacto mafia don, the final say on anything in or out, including the hard stuff. Daz, alcohol, pamphlets about transferring ownership or exchanging ‘favors.’ He drew a hard line in the dirt over those things, cutting his teeth as a leader when he was just a lad himself.
When he told me about how he’d built up Gaul, the guild he’d taken the name for, I was as fascinated as I was appalled. Bullpens where anonymous clients got to put their hands on him for “donations” that were really just a scam to prey on advenan men desperate for intimacy. Auctions to keep them in a controlled environment—cuffs and restraint tables, he’d finallyadmitted—for a buyer to milk him for several days to ensure the best draw.
He’d done the latter work for ten years, saving every scrap until Commander Atarian had snatched up Vindilus, and Vindilus had vouched for him. Ferulis admired his ruthless attitude, building his own guild, controlling supply chains, smuggling for the good of his wards.
I couldn’t decide if Novak was Peter Pan or Robin Hood, but either way, trulyknowinghim made me trip head over heels right off a cliff. Cupid stood on the beach below, arrow drawn and aimed right at my heart.
I needed a breather from the imp of love, so the next night, I printed a set of rudimentary trump cards and taught Novak how to play Gin Rummy. It was a failsafe for any crew of mariners trying to pass the idle nights away. No stories. No heavy gazes or pregnant pauses. Just colorful swearing and snack ransoms.
But he never stayed too late, excusing himself to go on a run or prescreen the places Sath had planned for us to go the next day. He felt the weight of something watching. I could tell from the way his ears flicked, one trained on the inner courtyard, the other on the lattice window. He never said anything, but he didn’t have to.
I was bait on a hook, and Novak had to cast his line.
Before leaving my room the night before the charity ball, he hesitated. He’d seen the medallion between my breasts when he came on my chest, and asked to take a closer look. I pulled it out for him and he lifted the little charm beside the medallion with his claw, canting his head.
“What is this?”
“An anchor,” I’d explained. “You drop it off the side of a boat to keep from drifting away.”
He’d stared at it for long enough that my heart skipped, bubbles of apprehension popping in my stomach. He’d tucked it back into my shirt with tenderness. “I’ll make sure you don’t drift away.”
I’d nearly pulled him back in my room by the scruff.
The tension was killing me. I was probably dehydrated thanks to the pool between my legs. All day, every day, Novak distracted me. We shared glances more often, and he lingered longer at meals, making obnoxious changes to my order so that he could stay.
It needled Sath at first, but after Novak did it a second time, his expression grew more thoughtful. We were at a tea house when the agent noticed Sath’s undivided attention, his scales lifting with unease.
