Page 1 of Defiance
Prologue
The Citadel, Helion
Marigold blades of light cut through the hallway, bouncing off the glass walls and copper tiles like prisms made of precious metals. The Citadel was beautiful in the dusky light of Hephae, the dwarf sun that Helion had made its orbit in recent decades. The Intersolar Union’s capital station was a needle-like cylinder with long evening shadows and longer political fingers, creeping their way through the city strata and into unscrupulous cache accounts.
Chairman Aescopis Ferulis, the venandi commanding officer of the Union’s fleet, exhaled a breath of frustration from his slitted nose and pressed his external mandibles against his jawbone in an attempt to look breezy and untroubled. He stood with his talons crossed at the small of his back, mismatched silver eyes lidded as he observed the jammed traffic on the civilian strata beyond the Citadel’s defensive holoveil.
“Sorry to have kept you, Chairman.”
“No trouble. I was enjoying the view.”
Ferulis flexed his talons but kept his voice measured. As if anyone who knew him would think he’d stop to stare at a coagulated city landscape he’d already been subjected to for two decades. Still. Appearances, appearances.
Souls, he hated politics.
He didn’t turn as Baellanus Atarian strode up to his side. His fellow venandi was in his prime with spires that stood straight well above his head like a crown. He was sapphire blue with a disarming green stare, and several modest but revealing engravings on his spires. One each for his children andvira.A proud young father that stood by his principles with a long view of the future.
Ferulis saw his old friend Duram in Baellanus more than anyone else, even if he’d been named after his mara, Chairwoman Baella Atarian. Duram had been one of his closest friends at academy decades ago. As steady as a mountain with a sense of right and wrong that ran as deep and unshakeable as the ribbon rivers of their homeworld. But cocksure charisma ran in the Atarian clan thicker than wine too, and just like his younger brother Thel, Baellanus carried himself like he had it in spades. Effortless golden boys, the whole lot of them.
Their eyes met, and the eldest Atarian son clapped his mandibles together in an easy if formal greeting, swooping his head in the slightest of bows. Thank souls they both agreed that formalities were worth less than dirt.
If he’d insisted on using honorifics, the young sec officer would have been insufferable.
“I’m afraid you have a lunch arrangement,” Bael said, nodding to his extended holotab. The glowing screen that hovered above his forearm pulsed with a schedule reminder. “With…” He cocked his head to read the screen. “Chairwoman Navimbaruthi. And… Oh, it’s a trade luncheon with–”
“Steed Shipping and Bospho Valent. I’m aware,” Ferulis barked. “Could you at least pretend to be good at your job?”
Bael smirked, but gave Ferulis proper deference. He clasped his hands together and bowed his head to the side. “Apologies. It has been a difficult transition. My duties at Helion Security Bureau did not prepare me for spreadsheets.”
Ferulis raised one brow plate. “What about calendars?”
Bael’s smirk widened as he minimized his holotab. “Those too.”
The chairman stalked off before Bael could see the twitch at the corner of his mouth and his new chief council assistant followed at his heels. While Bael’s gait was as smooth as a lithe predator, every step Ferulis took echoed with a metallic gong through the cavernous halls. Clerks and security officers alike stepped aside with their faces turned down as they passed, knowing thethunk vwurrrof his prosthetic leg better than they knew his face. He wondered if they heard the sound in their sleep. The thought pleased him.
Ferulis had made an entire career out of being a bogeyman.
As they wound their way through crowded halls and then not-so crowded security points, Ferulis knew they would be fashionably late. The phrase made him think of Olivia Atarian, off on a council-mandated diplomatic tour with hervir,Thel Atarian. They happened to be some of his best operatives, and letting them dally off on some social honeymoon made him want to spit.
Not that it had been his choice. The rest of the council had voted unanimously to send them away. It made his hackles rise then, and it still did now. Olivia was good with her words. He could have used her as an advocate. Instead, the only representation they had on Helion was Baella Atarian and his own prickly attempts at shmoozing.
Had he mentioned how much he hated politics?
“Heard from your brother lately?” he threw over his shoulder with a more biting tone than planned.
“My brother and sister are getting along well in the Ximeni system. Thel’s frothing at the thought of having whelps soon.”
Ferulis paused abruptly and turned a sharp glare on Bael. His assistant took a deferential step back under that famous gaze. One eye a gunmetal orb lost at war, the other a searing white glow.
“Not yet,” Bael amended. “Just the prospect of it.”
“Good.”
Ferulis huffed like aryhidon,expelling bitter air from his lungs. If those two fools diversified without his blessing so help them…
And of course, they would have fuckingbeautifulbabies too. He’d bet his retirement on it. Hell, he’d probablyspendhis retirement on those whelps, no bet required. They’d cast a spell just like their human mara and bend every brittle old soul to their bidding.
Ferulis clapped his mandibles together with supreme irritation.
