Author: David Beers; Michael Anderle
Date: 2021-03-16T18:00:00+00:00
Description: It was a bold move… …and now he’s got a dreadnought. What’s Alistair’s next move? He's desperate to see Luna again. It might be the only thing keeping Alistair from giving up, because their situation looks grim. As he sits in the Captain’s seat, looking out at the vastness of space, he knows what was on its way. The Commonwealth comes to take back what is theirs… **…and to wipe out the rebels for good. * How many will they bring? Alistiar was wracking his brain on how to get out of this dangerous spot, and then he got the word. The Primuses had escaped. And they took Thoreaux with them. There’
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Rights: Copyright 2021 David Beers. All rights reserved.

Warlord Conquering

The Great Insurrection™ Book Three

David Beers

Michael Anderle

This book is a work of fiction.

All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

Copyright © 2021 LMBPN Publishing

Cover Art by Jake @ J Caleb Design
http://jcalebdesign.com / jcalebdesign@gmail.com

Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

A Michael Anderle Production

LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact support@lmbpn.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

LMBPN Publishing

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Las Vegas, NV 89109

First edition 2021
eBook ISBN: 978-1-64971-402-2

Print ISBN: 978-1-64971-403-9

Contents

Part I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Part II

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

The Written History of the Great Insurrection

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

The Written History of the Great Insurrection

Author Notes - David Beers

Author Notes - Michael Anderle

Also by David Beers

Books By Michael Anderle

Connect with The Authors

The Warlord Conquering Team

Thanks to our Beta Readers

Kelly O’Donnell, John Ashmore, Rachel Beckford

Thanks to our JIT Readers

Jackey Hankard-Brodie

Angel LaVey

Diane L. Smith

John Ashmore

Kelly O’Donnell

Jeff Goode

Dave Hicks

Editor

SkyHunter Editing Team

Dedication

For my brother, Danny.

— David

To Family, Friends and

Those Who Love
to Read.

May We All Enjoy Grace
to Live the Life We Are

Called.

— Michael

Part I

Chapter One

“Eternal vigilance is the price of success.”

—Adrian de Livius, father of the Titan Ares

Ares was born Romulus de Livius. At birth, no one knew his call sign would one day be Ares; he was just a boy born to a prestigious family. It happened every day across the Solar System, but those children didn't have a father as ambitious as Romulus'.

No one could have known what the boy would grow into. His father had plans for himself and his distinguished family.

Romulus would remember his first lesson until his final breath, and that was his father's intention. The lessons Romulus learned as a child would shape his life as an adult.

He was eight years old and already starting to demonstrate the physical prowess that would separate him from his peers. He got top marks in his sparring classes and had been ranked number one in his quadrant for two years. At six years old, this might not mean much, but by eight, the competition was rising.

Romulus' father, Adrian de Livius, didn't attend all the sparring sessions and rarely visited a practice. He showed up at the ones that mattered, where his boy would be challenged.

He monitored his son's progress closely, knowing that being the best would take eternal vigilance. When he heard his son was starting to slack off, he didn't immediately run to the child's room. He waited since he wasn't a man of quick temper. He was a hard man, though, and when the lesson was delivered, it would not be forgotten.

A challenger had risen through the ranks, beating those who should have cut him down early and easily. Adrian didn't ask his son if he’d heard about him but rather watched the newcomer's rise. He racked up win after win, and without telling Romulus, Adrian went to watch this young challenger.

He lacked Romulus’ physicality, as well as his strength, speed, and grace. However, Adrian immediately saw that what the boy lacked in natural gifts, he made up for in precision and technique—the fundamentals.

He still didn't go to his son. He let the training sessions continue and read the reports from the trainer.

The match was finally scheduled, this newcomer versus Romulus de Livius. Adrian was in attendance.

A match went four rounds of five minutes apiece. Even at eight years old, matches could be brutal. The boys chose which fighting forms to use: hand to hand combat with wooden sticks, whips, and the like.

In the first round, Romulus was stunned when the boy attacked him with a stick in each hand. Romulus used his single pole, and his speed kept the boy at bay, but the newcomer's technique allowed him to gain inch by inch. The two sticks came down again and again, but each time Romulus tried to strike back, he was blocked.

The newcomer's shorter stick smacked Romulus across the face.

The young boy fell to one knee, blood dripping on the ground from his mouth.

The crowd gasped. No one could remember the last time Romulus had taken a blow, let alone one so devastating.

Adrian did not gasp or move. From the stands, he watched his son. Slowly the young boy looked up, and there was fear in his eyes—fear of losing and of the pain that would come with it.

He rose to his feet before the judge's count was finished, then reached up and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his forearm. The fight began again, and this time, Romulus was much more cautious. His usual speed and grace were marked by fear. The newcomer? He continued his relentless forward motion, chopping with his sticks, kicking, retreating when necessary.

The first round ended, and the newcomer won. The only scorecard required was the bruise swelling up on Romulus’ cheek, the underlying bone most likely broken.

The second round began, and Romulus came out with a fury of strikes—fists, pole, feet, anything he could use. He hit the new boy many times, but the most damaging attacks were turned away.

At the end of his rampage, Romulus was winded, and the other boy showed no injuries. Romulus’ opponent started in again—a machine, much slower and less powerful than his opponent, but one who did not stop.

Romulus was on the defensive, and the blow that dropped him this time was to his knee.

Adrian didn’t flinch as his boy fell to the ground holding his kneecap. The father understood the knee was fractured. He only wondered if his progeny would rise again.

Romulus found his way to his feet, though he wobbled on one leg. The round ended.

The boy didn't look at his father, only stared across the yard at his opponent. The fear was gone. Now there was hate. Disgust.

The third round started. There was no flurry from Romulus; rather, he was careful this time, practiced and showing the fundamentals that had made him stand out among his peers. He was damaged, though, and everyone watching knew it.

A devastating blow midway through the round broke Romulus' collarbone, leaving him with only his left leg and right arm still working.

The people in the audience looked at Adrian, wondering if he would call the match and save his son from further damage.

Romulus’ father didn't glance at them, nor did he stand up. He would not stop this, not even if it meant his son died on the field below. The red blood dotting the brown grass did not bother him, nor did the shattered bones. Adrian kept his eyes on his son.

His son's face bore resignation, the knowledge that he was going to face his first loss, and he most likely would be dealt more pain over the next few minutes. However, Romulus never looked at the audience. He did not shrink from his duty. He hobbled to the middle of the yard and used his skills as best he could. He made the newcomer circle this time, lashing out whenever his opponent tried to close the gap.

The blow that felled him wasn't fancy, but it was brutal.

One of the newcomer's smaller sticks smashed against the back of his head, and Romulus collapsed to the ground. The eight-year-old boy was broken, bruised, and unconscious. Adrian got up from the stands and left the arena.

Adrian didn't let the boy's mother see him in the infirmary. He went alone, denying the trainer access as well. The boy’s collarbone had already been repaired, and preparations were being made for his face. It was a delicate procedure, and to retain his facial structure as he aged, it would most likely need to be repeated.

Adrian walked into the room, and the droid docs looked at him. Something passed between them, and the three moved out of the room, leaving the father alone with his son.

Adrian walked over to the room's only window and placed his hands behind his back.

The boy was in pain. Adrian had made sure the medicine they gave him wasn’t strong enough to dull his wits.

Minutes passed in silence. Neither said anything. It wasn't the boy's place, and Adrian knew this lesson had to remain with him for the rest of his life.

His voice broke through the silence. "Why did you lose?"

"He was..."

His father interrupted him ruthlessly. "Think before you answer me, boy."

The child shut his mouth and said nothing for a long time. Adrian didn't bother him or interrupt his thinking. He just stared out the window, waiting.

"I was lazy."

At eight years old, it was a very honest and intelligent answer. It was also not stated as a question but a fact.

Adrian nodded. "That's right. You've been lazy for the past six months. Your trainer came to me and told me, boy. I said to let you do as you chose." He turned, and his eyes fell on the child. There were tears in Romulus' eyes. "Wipe them away. Your eyes and face give away your thoughts every time I look at them. Perhaps an eight-year-old child won't use it to his advantage, but a man? They will eat you alive, skin you as you watch, rip your flesh from your bones, and roast it as you cry."

The boy said nothing, only wiped his face as his father commanded.

"Hear me now, and remember my words. Your bloodline is pristine, boy. Perhaps I'm arrogant, but I'd put it against the Ascendant's. You are above the rest of the planet by your birthright." He paused to take a deep breath and calm himself. "Runts like that child today will destroy you if you try to rest on your genetics. They will outwork you. Out-practice you. They will kill you."

He placed his hands behind his back and took a measure of the boy. Romulus’ eyes were dry, and his face was devoid of emotion.

Adrian continued, "I watched you get beaten badly this morning. I watched your body be broken, and I showed no emotion. From this day forth, let me never hear that you are not outworking everyone on this planet. Do not let me see a single emotion cross your face. Do you understand, boy?"

Romulus nodded, and for the first time, Adrian felt proud, although there was no emotion on his face. "Yes, Father."

Many years later, Ares remembered his father's words. His Whip had been taken from him, and perhaps his honor as well. That was yet to be determined.

Adrian’s words had guided him for so long, and now he went back to them for their wisdom.

Show no emotion.

Outwork everyone.

All of his men had been Clipped; virtually everyone still alive on the ship who wasn't needed to operate it had been Clipped. Alistair had not Clipped Ares, though, nor Veena or Hel. The three of them sat in different cells, but on the same level, in the brig. They could see each other.

However, their voices couldn't travel to each other. Hel had tried signing to them. Veena deciphered it for a bit, but Ares had simply laid down in the cell and stared at the ceiling. He knew he wasn't a perfect student of his father's lessons. There was always room for improvement. He had let his emotions slip with that woman before, and he would not do it again.

His true feelings about her were simple: he'd like to fuck her, then kill her. It was the cruelest thought to ever go through his head, but there it was. Her masterful plans had failed disastrously, and they had been captured by six people. Ares would have laughed if he wasn't so aware of the shame he'd brought his family.

He didn't understand why Alistair hadn't Clipped him, but he thought it was probably a mind trick. If Alistair gave them a bit of freedom, maybe he thought they would give him the information he needed.

If he truly believed that, the man was a fool. Modified and massive, he was dumber than a sack of potatoes.

Ares had learned how to tell time without clocks in the Academy. He knew he'd been here just under twenty-four standard hours. He'd dozed for a bit to keep his mind on point and spent the rest of the time on his back, staring up and remembering his father's words.

If there was any chance to return honor to his family, he’d have to remember.

The elevator started moving in the tunnel outside his cell. Ares turned his head to the right but didn't get up. After twenty-four hours, the Commonwealth had heard Alistair’s insane message, and plans were in motion. There was simply no way Alistair could hold this ship. Ares wasn’t worried about him, but about the Myrmidons.

They were something he couldn't predict.

He watched the elevator descend and stop in front of him. Alistair stood on the other side of the glass panels. The hellish animal was at his side. Ares didn't stand. The man's hands were bruised and swollen but healing quickly. That was the modification. The anger and fury that had possessed him before were gone.

Ares had known that man as Odin, but the criminals he ran with now called him Prometheus. By either name, Ares knew him well.

This one was Alistair Kane. Measured. Smart, but not witty. Not someone who rushed to decisions, but once they were made, he held firmly to them.

The two personalities were opposites in many ways.

The elevator panels opened, then the glass panels partly opened, but one of the Subversives had damaged them in their mad rush to free Alistair.

A short bridge rolled out through the gap, and Alistair squeezed his hulking body through the opening and into the cell. The animal waited on the other side of the bridge, but his eyes never left his master.

Ares turned his head to the ceiling again. He said nothing and showed no emotion.

Alistair walked to the ledge in the cell and sat down, then leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. "I need the passcodes, Ares."

Ares blinked slowly. "This is where I say, ‘What passcodes?’"

Alistair sighed. They both knew what passcodes. On interstellar missions, each Primus, Fleet or Titan, was given passcodes to the ship that allowed for self-destruction, not just for the ship they were on, but for the entire Fleet if necessary. Veena had them, but so did Ares. In case Veena died and the entire fleet was captured, the Ascendant preferred destruction.

Why Veena hadn’t used them when Alistair took over the ship, Ares didn't know.

"I don’t have time for games," Alistair said. "I need the codes. I imagine all three of you have them, but I decided I'd come to you first since we have history." He shook his head.

Ares chuckled with his hands resting on his stomach. That fit with his father's lesson because it wasn't real emotion. Truthfully, he wanted to kill Kane, but he knew trying to do so right now would be futile. "I'm not giving you anything, Alistair. We both know you're in an untenable position, and if you don't kill me, the dreadnoughts coming for this ship will. You have nothing to threaten me with."

"I'm not here to threaten you. I'm here to offer you your life. If you give me the codes, I'll make sure you live."

He turned his head to look at Alistair. "Do you think so little of me, that I'd sacrifice my honor for my life? I'm not you, Alistair. My honor is everything. The only reason I haven't tried to commit suicide is I still believe I'm going to kill you."

"That's what you think, isn't it?" Alistair asked. "That I have no honor?"

"Look around you, man. You've got two Primuses in a brig on a hijacked dreadnought, and you're trying to get codes to destroy the Commonwealth dreadnoughts coming for you. I'm not sure you ever had any honor. If you hadn't created that monstrosity out of your body, I would have already killed you. You're not the man I thought you were."

Alistair stared at the floor, quiet for a time. When he turned back to Ares, the man's eyes weren’t pensive. They were hard. "I don't hold you at fault, Ares. You're only following orders, and that's all you've been doing your whole life. I do hold those above you responsible, though. You are a tool, but they are the carpenters. The ones wielding you took everything from me." The last sentence was almost a snarl.

Alistair stood up. Perhaps he was Prometheus at that point. Ares wasn't sure who he was speaking to.

"They took it all, and for what reason? Because I let some parents live? Because I didn't cut them down as the order told me to?"

He walked to the edge of the cell, his back to Ares. "I don't hold you responsible, but if you stay on their side, Ares, I'm going to kill you. I'm going to bring it all down, everything the Commonwealth stands for. I'm going to stand over the Ascendant as he says his last words. You decide which side you want to be on."

Ares closed his eyes. "I already have."

There was silence for a moment, then Alistair responded, "So be it."

Ares heard his cell wall close.

Chapter Two

“The Ascendants have never understood anything. Even my father was a fool.”

—The AllSeer

Ajax, the Myrmidon of the Superior, had watched the pod streak across the blackness of space. He'd realized the humans had tricked him, and true anger grew within the creature. It had all been a setup—probably even that they had felt the AllMother.

Ajax didn't overreact. He didn't destroy anything or kill any slaves. Rather, he and his fleet remained where they were and watched as the Commonwealth's dreadnought was slowly eaten away by the Myrmidons’ weapons. In the end, only a few pieces of metal were left to float in the universal darkness.

When it was finished, a voice spoke behind Ajax's chair. "She is not in your grasp."

Ajax stood and turned. A shadow leaned against the far wall. Ajax took a knee and bowed his head.

The shadow spoke again. "She is still alive, but for how long, Ajax?"

He didn't apologize. There was no room for that in the Superior's mind. "We are still very close, Master."

The shadow was quiet for some time. Ajax knew the AllSeer never rushed anything. He saw no need because the universe's arc would always bend to his will.

The shadow slowly moved across the wall. Ajax didn't look up but kept his head bowed.

"The Prophesied One is troublesome," the shadow mused. "He continues to impress me. My sister has an eye for talent." He grew quiet again, and Ajax remained in his position, waiting for instructions. "She brought a new player into the game, and I would be remiss if I did not admit that it changes things. My natural reaction is to remove the piece."

The shadow stopped moving, and Ajax looked up.

"My sister has always been arrogant, and she has become more so as she has aged. She thinks she can hide everything from me at will, but she's wrong. She always has been on that account. To remove the piece, we need not chase him. We simply need to position ourselves where he is heading and wait for him. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," Ajax responded.

"I will tell you where to go. When the Prophesied One arrives, kill him. If you can, take my sister, but for now, we need to remove the new piece from the game. Things will then revert to the natural order."

Ajax lowered his head again. He had his orders: kill the newcomer. "It will be done."

Chapter Three

“All is fair in love and war.”

—Origin Unknown

Thoreaux understood how bad their position was. He knew Prometheus was well aware of it, too.

They found themselves in charge of a dreadnought that was almost completely locked down. The crew could have risen against their new overlords, but Prometheus' threat had kept them from attempting it. He had told them he'd open all the doors on the dreadnought except to the bridge. Nearly everyone on the ship would be evacuated into space.

Thoreaux knew Prometheus would do it. Cruel? Yes, but it was necessary. It was the only thing keeping their small group alive.

Another twenty-four hours had passed, and they were expecting a communication from the Commonwealth shortly.

Pro hadn't come to him yet, but Thoreaux thought he would soon. Something would need to be said about him disobeying Pro's letter. He'd been told to wait until the Fallen Titan’s return, but instead, he'd brought his whole council to help save him. Truthfully, the man had needed saving, or right now, he'd most likely still be Clipped and heading back to Earth.

The past twenty-four hours had been tense for Thoreaux. He'd gotten medical attention for his wounded shoulder, the wound courtesy of the godsdamned Titans. During that time, he’d only been able to consider how perfectly he was fitting in with his parents’ lineage. They had disobeyed the AllMother. Out of everything they had done in life, that was what they would be remembered for because they had died right after.

Thoreaux was still alive, but in typical military cultures, given his refusal of direct orders from his leader, death wasn't unheard of.

He didn't think he'd be killed, but removed from his position? That wasn't only possible but probable. He'd done what was necessary, but it wasn't what he'd been ordered to do.

He couldn't be trusted. At least, that was what Pro had to be thinking.

Can I? Thoreaux had wondered during those twenty-four hours. He didn't have an answer, or at least not a simple one. Would Thoreaux ever trade on their movement? Sell someone out and join the Commonwealth? He'd die before that happened.

Would he disobey an order he thought would harm their movement? Yes.

Thoreaux had been manning the bridge when Pro finally came. He had Relm in tow, and Thoreaux knew that meant he and Pro were about to go talk somewhere because he had four hours left on his shift.

Relm touched his uninjured shoulder. "I'll take over, broth."

Thoreaux nodded as his eyes found Pro's.

"You mind if we talk for a bit?" Prometheus asked.

"Yeah, I figured you might want to."

No one said anything else. Thoreaux followed Prometheus off the bridge, but they didn't stop at any of the small rooms in the intervening hallways. No, Pro was leading him to his quarters, and Thoreaux felt ice growing in his stomach. He wasn't going to be executed; he was almost sure about that, yet if he were, privacy would be needed. The Primus' quarters was the place for it.

No one but Prometheus had access to that room.

It was a short walk from the bridge. When they arrived, the room recognized Pro’s programmed identity code, and as he stepped into the room, Thoreaux saw the Whip on his belt. It appeared to be inactive, but what did he know about it? Not much, that's what.

He took a deep breath, then stepped in after Prometheus. He wasn't interested in what the quarters looked like. His eyes remained on the Fallen Titan as he tried to convince himself violence would not take place.

The door closed, and the two of them were alone.

Pro didn't turn around. He brought both hands to his hips, his huge back to Thoreaux.

"I'm sorry for what I did," Pro said.

Thoreaux's mouth dropped open. He couldn't find a single word to say, and he felt he might collapse from relief.

"I made a decision, and it was the wrong one. I guess I'm doubly sorry if that's a thing." He turned, and when he saw Thoreaux's face, his own grew confused. "What's wrong?"

Thoreaux said nothing, only let his eyes fall to the Whip.

Pro looked down too, pausing when he saw the weapon. When he looked back, a shocked smile had come to his face. "You're kidding me, right? You thought I was going to hurt you?"

Thoreaux closed his eyes and took another deep breath. When he let it out, he steadied himself, realizing he wasn't in danger and he might not even be demoted. "I disobeyed a direct order. I endangered everyone in your council."

"You saved our lives," Prometheus finished. "If it wasn’t for your courage, the AllMother and I would be dead. You disobeyed an order that would have destroyed everything she's built. That's why I called you here. That, and to apologize for being stupid."

Thoreaux didn't know if he'd ever heard a leader talk this way. He was stunned.

"Here, sit down." Pro threw a pillow off the couch to make room, then reached over and guided his second to sit down. "You look like you might faint."

Thoreaux sat and looked at him. "I'm all right."

"Need water? This Primus has everything you could want in here. She even has booze if you want a drink."

"Yeah, some water," Thoreaux said. He hadn't realized how stressed he'd been. How deeply his parents' legacy had been burned into his mind, and that he'd felt he was following in their footsteps. He’d thought everyone else saw it too.

Pro returned with a cup of water and handed it to him.

Thoreaux drank it greedily, his hand shaking as he did. "Thanks," he said after finishing.

"Any time you’re sure I’ve made the wrong decision, I need you to take action. I can't guarantee I won't do it again. I'm going to make decisions that appear rash and overly dangerous. Sometimes they will be, but that's my blind spot. My whole life, I've been the best at what I do. A killer, I guess, but the best at it. Now that I'm in this new body, everything feels limitless. I need you to cover my blind spots. I need you to disobey me if it's going to save us. That doesn't mean the two of us are always going to agree in the end about who made the right call, but I trust you to do what you think is right. That's what I need."

Thoreaux grabbed his right hand with his left, hoping to stop the shaking.

"I know about your parents," Pro said. "Some people on Earth, they put stock in family lineage. Even after everything I did as a Titan, the greatest families wouldn't sit with me at dinner. Not because they didn't like that I’d killed people, but because my bloodline wasn't on their level. I don't care about what your parents did. I only care about what you do, and right now, you saved us all. There are thousands of people back on Phoenix who will continue living because of what you did."

Thoreaux nodded. “I had to do it, Pro. I hope you know that. It wasn't that I don't trust you. It wasn't that I thought you were going to get the AllMother hurt. No man is big enough to foresee everything. I didn't do it to disobey. I did it to help."

Pro went to his knees in front of Thoreaux. "I'm asking you to see my blind spots. If we're going to survive this, I need you. Relm, Faitrin, Servia—they all serve a purpose in this war, but perhaps yours is the most important. Temper the worst parts of me. Save me from myself, Thoreaux. Do you accept me as your leader?"

Thoreaux nodded.

"As your leader, I'm asking you to leave your family's legacy behind and help me win this battle. Will you do that?"

"If that's what you need, I will do it," Thoreaux answered.

There was a bang on the door, and they both glanced at it. The panel to the right showed it was Servia.

"The Commonwealth's message," Thoreaux said.

Pro nodded, then stood up, walked over to the door, and pressed his hand to the panel. The ship hadn’t been reprogrammed for voices yet, only body signatures.

"It's here," Servia said as the door opened. "Their message."

"Have you watched it?" Pro asked.

She shook her head. "No one has. We've been waiting for you."

Pro looked at Thoreaux. "You ready?"

Thoreaux didn't glance at his hands. The shaking had settled. "I'm ready," he answered, hoping he was.

Alistair had needed to accomplish an incredible number of tasks in the past twenty-four hours. He'd taken two stim packs, which the medbay had willingly given him. Everyone on this ship might hate him, thinking him evil incarnate, but they understood he could have them killed with a word.

Talking to Thoreaux had been a priority, and he was glad he'd done it. He hadn't known his second had been so worried. Alistair wouldn’t hurt anyone in this group unless they stood between him and his wife. He knew he'd have to talk to Thoreaux again because he wanted the man to truly trust him. If he was going to make it back to Earth, Thoreaux had to watch his six. It was the only way. He had to become what Ares had once been for him.

There would be time for another conversation. A lot depended on what happened with the coming message.

His whole council was here except for Relm. He would watch the bridge, ensuring that if an insurrection happened, Alistair would know in time. The AllMother and Faitrin were waiting as the other three entered the room.

Alistair looked at Faitrin, the only one in the room who could harmonize with the ship's AI system. She also seemed to have adopted the AI system she'd brought from Terram. The two of them were friends, from what Alistair could tell.

"You ran the security tests? No code in this message that could take out the ship?"

Faitrin nodded. "And I had Jeeves double-check it. The message is clean."

Jeeves was what she called the AI now. Alistair had never heard the name before, and when he asked where it had come from, Faitrin had shrugged.

"The AI gave it to me. I think it's some kind of a joke because of his accent. You'll have to ask Jeeves if you want the answer."

They were in one of the ship's smaller meeting rooms. The table came to life and projected a holovid a foot above it. Everyone in the room knew who they were looking at: the Imperial Ascendant, Alexander de Finita. Alistair had served the man for his entire adult life. Everything he'd believed in had been embodied in him.

He'd met him twice, though he doubted the Ascendant would remember. Looking at his face now, Alistair thought he’d hardly aged a day.

He immediately knew something was wrong with the message. They could have sent audio only, and the transmission would have taken half the time. However, the Commonwealth wanted those on this ship to see something.

The Ascendant's voice filled the room, bold, strong, and showing no hint of worry. "This message is for the traitor Alistair Kane. You have violated countless laws, as I'm sure you already know. The commandeering of a dreadnought, while aggressive, will not stop us from finding and stopping you."

The Ascendant's face had shown no emotion during the first sentences. They had all been necessary to show that Alistair was a Subversive. The Ascendant's face changed after the last, though, showing a slight upturn on the right side of his lips—not quite a smirk, but very close to one. It was a sign that what came next was the purpose of this whole charade.

"You understand your ship is surrounded. While you sit in the third dimension waiting for this message, our two remaining dreadnoughts float in the fourth. We have more coming your way too, sailing at full speed from one of the many portals we own. There is no way to escape. There is nothing you can do except wait to be boarded or destroyed. I care not which you choose. However, I have someone here who would like to speak to you."

The Ascendant stepped away from the lens, and for a second, nothing showed over the table. During that moment, Alistair remembered what Hel had told him about his wife. The Ascendant had to know there was nothing else on Earth that he could threaten Alistair with. They could only use his love against him.

Luna's face appeared over the table.

Alistair stepped forward, unable to stop himself.

She looked beautiful. Her hair was different, styled in a way he hadn't seen before. Her makeup was a little heavier and different around the eyes. She was wearing a fashion from First City. None of that mattered to Alistair. She was and had always been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Her voice filled the room.

"Alistair, they tell me they can send this video across the universe and that you're going to get it. If that's true, then I guess I'm talking to you right now. Is what they say true? Have you joined those you used to hunt? They tell me the Commonwealth didn't want to burn Pluto, but you forced their hand. Is that true too? That even now, this is being sent to a ship in another galaxy because you've taken it?"

There were tears in his wife's eyes. His as well. She paused and reached up with a handkerchief, dabbing at the corners to keep the tears from spilling and ruining her makeup. Alistair didn't realize it, but he was leaning forward, his hands gripping the table and his face mere inches from his wife's. His bruised knuckles were turning white from how hard he pressed on the table.

"I'm asking you to stop, Alistair. I'm asking you to stop everything you're doing right now. It's madness. Turn yourself in. Come back to Earth. This isn't you. This isn't the man I love. Come home, Alistair."

His wife disappeared, and for another moment, nothing hung over the table. Tears spilled from Alistair's eyes.

The Ascendant reappeared. His face was as close to Alistair's as his wife's had been, and he had a hint of a smirk on his lips again.

"Your wife knows about your deeds, Mr. Kane. She knows what you've done and what you continue to do. For what reason? What could cause you to go against the Commonwealth, which has given you and your family so much?" He paused, and Alistair knew what the question meant: I know what propels you, and I have her here. She is under my control and will remain so. She might die, depending on what I decide to do. You, Alistair Kane, are powerless.

"Do as your wife asks," the Ascendant continued. "Stop this insanity. Come home to Earth. I promise you a fair trial. The Commonwealth is not vindictive; we never have been. Help your wife, and help yourself. Stop this. If not, Kane, you will force my hand, and I promise you do not want that to happen."

The transmission ended. Everyone in the room stared at Alistair, and he looked at where the holovid had been. Now he saw only a wall. One word ran through his mind, a name: Hel.

It repeated. Hel, Hel, Hel.

She had told him the Ascendant would go to his wife. She had known, so she would know more. At least, that was how Alistair's mind worked at that moment: a simplistic view in which hatred and anger had taken over.

"Pro," Thoreaux said from behind him. "You okay?"

He reached up and harshly wiped the tears away with his palm, then straightened and turned to the door.

"Pro," Thoreaux repeated, sounding more worried now.

Alistair said nothing. He strode toward the door and then out into the hallway, leaving his council in stunned silence behind him.

Thoreaux had forgotten about the emotionally traumatic experience he'd had mere minutes ago. He stared after Prometheus, wondering where he was going and what he would do when he got there.

Servia turned to him. "Did you know about his wife?"

Thoreaux ignored the question. "Where's he going, AllMother?"

Servia looked her way as well. "Did you know? About his wife?"

The old woman was staring after her leader. She didn't bother looking at the two asking questions. "I don't know where he's going. If you want to know, I'd suggest you follow him."

Thoreaux started forward, but Servia grabbed his right arm hard to halt him. "Did you know about his wife?"

He didn't understand her obsession with the question, but he knew she wouldn’t let him leave without answering it. "Yes. He asked if he could see what was happening to her when he first got to Pluto. That's it. Now, let me go see what the hell he's doing."

Servia held him for a second longer, then shook her head and let go of his arm. She turned to the AllMother. "I assume you know more than that?"

The AllMother turned a withering gaze on the younger woman. "Yes. What would you like to know? I don't remember you being born when this plan was made, but I'm sure you have much to say about it."

Thoreaux didn't have time for them to argue. Pro was doing something right now, and he didn’t think it’d be the smartest decision the man ever made. He left the room and didn‘t hear what Servia said in response to the AllMother’s statement.

He looked both ways in the hall. One direction led to the bridge, and the other to the brig. Pro could want something in either area of the ship, but Thoreaux didn't have time to check both right now. He also wasn't going to send an announcement out, knowing the enemy would hear it.

Thoreaux chose the brig. If any of the prisoners had useful information, it would be the ones lodged there.

He flew through the halls, remembering what Pro had told him. He was dependent on Thoreaux to watch his blind spots, and it was obvious his wife was a major one.

He heard footsteps behind him at one point and saw that Faitrin was running as fast as she could to catch up. Thoreaux didn't slow down, but he was glad someone else had come too. Stopping Pro from doing whatever he intended would be difficult.

It took some time, but he reached the brig. The large doors were shut, but Thoreaux walked up to them, expecting they'd open.

They didn't. "What the hell? What's going on?" he asked, turning to Faitrin as she reached the door. From the other end of the hall, he saw Obs bounding toward them. The drathe had sensed something was wrong and rushed to find his master.

"That's why I came." Faitrin breathed out heavily while Obs slid to a stop, staring up at her. "He's got Primus-level access, and I thought he might tell it to reject everyone else. Let me get to the panel."

Thoreaux did as she told him, stepping back so she could harmonize. Her eyes showed falling gray snow as she stared at the closed door. His palms were sweaty, and his chest was heaving from the hard run.

"It's going to open in a sec, but we've got another problem." She glanced at Thoreaux, her gray eyes appearing to see nothing. "He's jammed the fucking elevator too, and I don't think I can make it work."

Alistair didn't want anyone to stop him from what he was going to do.

To ensure that, he rode the elevator down, then unleashed his Whip on it. It was a smoking heap of trash behind him, and he was staring at Hel in her prison. Her face was a mess of broken bones and bruises. Alistair had allowed her no medical treatment, and he'd been wondering if that had been the right choice. It was not a humane choice. Now, he felt no doubts. He only wished he'd beaten more answers out of her.

She’d been lying down when he arrived, but when he'd taken out his rage on the elevator, she'd slowly sat up. Alistair couldn't see if she had fear in her eyes because they were nearly swollen shut. The rest of her body? She curled up as she stared at him.

He hopped easily across the small space separating them. Hel backed up on the ledge until she was in the corner.

"You know why I'm here?" he asked. His Whip hung at his side, the strands floating lazily as they waited for their master's command.

She nodded. He knew it would hurt her to speak. It might even be impossible, but speak, she would.

Alistair let his Whip extend until the lasers touched the deck. They ground into the perfect white material, turning it black as smoke rose toward the ceiling. "What are they going to do with my wife? I want to know everything you know. If you don't tell me, Hel, you’ll see that I'm a surgeon with this weapon."

The woman pointed at her mouth. When she spoke, it sounded like she was talking through a mouthful of mashed potatoes and gravy. "I can hardly fucking talk. I need some medicine and some time in the goddamn medbay if you want me to help."

Alistair reached out to slap her.

"PRO! DON'T!"

The call came from above; Thoreaux was yelling at him. His hand hung above the woman, who was cringing in fear. The assassin was staring at him as if he were a monster.

What am I doing? he thought. What are they turning me into?

He was here because he'd let two parents escape with their lives, and now he stood above a beaten woman, ready to beat her more.

Alistair lowered his hand and retracted his Whip. He had managed to fight his base instincts this entire time, never turning into a monster. Now they were using his wife to cause him to do just that. He wouldn't do it. He would not destroy the man his wife loved, regardless of what they told her.

"PRO!" Thoreaux screamed again.

Alistair stepped across the cell, grabbed the edge of the glass wall, and leaned out. He stared up, able to see Thoreaux's face at the top of the pit. "Repair this fucking elevator and get the medbay ready. We're going to fix this bitch's face, then she's going to tell us what we want to know."

Chapter Four

“The Commonwealth rules the universe. Managing it is easier, though, when we pretend we don’t.”

—Alexander de Finita, Imperial Ascendant

"How did I do?" Luna asked as soon as the recording was finished. She knew it’d take some time to reach her husband, though not how much. She’d limited her questions, not out of fear, but because she was smart. Asking this man anything was dangerous, but too many questions might be deadly.

"You did great," he told her. "Truly, if your husband will listen to anyone, it's you."

Luna didn't want to ask the next question. Everything in her said it was the wrong thing to do, but she couldn't help herself. This was her husband they were discussing. "What happens next?"

She swallowed as the Ascendant stepped away from the communication chamber they'd been using. Their recordings had already left Earth and were flying through the fifth dimension toward Alistair. What would he think when he saw it? Would he think she believed those things? Would he think she no longer loved him? There were so many questions she couldn't answer and so many that wouldn't be answered for her either.

The Ascendant placed his hands behind his back. "’What comes next?’ What do you mean?"

The question didn't sound like he was curious, but as if he wanted to know why she was asking.

"With Alistair." Luna had to walk a careful path. "Is there anything else you need me to do, my liege?"

The Ascendant shook his head. "No, that's all for now. Thank you for your help today, Luna. I know that was hard."

"I'll do anything for the Commonwealth, my liege. I hope you know that."

De Finita stared at her for a long moment. Luna didn't drop her eyes but kept gazing at him as if she had nothing to hide. Finally, he said, "I know. If you'll excuse me, Luna, I have other matters I must attend to now."

"Of course, my liege." Luna bowed slightly and left the room.

She went into the hall, then moved quickly toward her quarters. She hadn't left the Imperial Residence since she’d arrived and had no idea when she'd be allowed to. Right now, all she could think about was her quarters.

Luna reached the door, stepped inside, and didn't slow down. She made it to the bathroom and shut the door easily, then collapsed on the floor.

She didn't know if she was watched in here, but it was the only place she thought there might be any privacy. Her hands started shaking, and the tremors traveled up her arms and gripped her entire body.

She rolled onto her side, tears streaming down her face, and wrapped her arms around her body. Luna hadn't wanted to betray her husband, and right now, she felt as if that was exactly what she'd done. There was no one she could call. Her family couldn't intervene. Her friends would be killed without a thought.

She hardly understood what was happening. All of this energy to get her husband back? The Ascendant hadn't discussed killing him, but she understood it had to be on the table.

What am I doing? she asked herself. What have I done, Allie?

There were no answers for Luna Kane. Only pain and the knowledge that it was nowhere near finished.

The Ascendant knew his fathers wanted to see him, but he had no desire to speak to them. They had of course heard about what the damned former Titan had done: taken over a whole dreadnought with two Primuses on it. Such a thing shouldn’t be possible, let alone probable, and yet, here Alexander was.

He'd heard the bastard's little speech. The man had acted as if he'd won a decisive battle. True, he'd gotten himself a dreadnought and captured some valuable personnel, but did he not realize where he was? In the middle of a galaxy he didn't know, surrounded by enemies, with only a handful of people to help him. Alexander had received the recordings from the ship. It had been programmed to stream the take constantly and had done so until the Titan had cut it off.

The Ascendant wouldn’t lie and say he hadn't been impressed. Kane was a special creature, but he was up against odds he didn’t seem to understand or care about. Either way, the odds were there, and the Ascendant didn't need to speak to his fathers to know what to do.

The Ascendant was simply using the wife to buy time. There was no other need for her. Alexander no longer wanted to bring the miscreant back, he wanted him dead. Before, it had been about proving something to the fathers. Showing them he could move the middle-aged Titan around as he saw fit. No longer. Now he wanted the man fucking erased, and that was what he was going to do.

Using the wife had been a ploy to get him to act rashly and do something stupid. He hadn't lied about the dreadnoughts in the fourth dimension. They were there and waiting. More were on the way and would arrive shortly. There was nowhere for him to run, and if he tried, he would be followed. Alexander could simply drop out of the fourth dimension now, but he didn't want to risk this odds beater surviving again. Two dreadnoughts versus one weren't enough for him after watching those videos. No, the Ascendant wanted the other three dreadnoughts there as well.

It would be five against one.

His Primuses would die, but what of it? They had failed the Commonwealth again and again and had thus lost any right to their titles. Hel would die as well, but that would be a blessing.

Let Kane do something rash. Anything to keep him busy for a bit longer, then he and his movement would be space debris.

Chapter Five

“Anger is the tool of the young.”

—The AllSeer

A day had passed, and Alistair sat with the assassin once again. The medbay had performed the necessary repairs to get her jaw into working order, then it'd pumped her full of enough meds to keep the pain from destroying her. Alistair wouldn't torture the woman; he'd decided that when he’d raised his hand and she’d cowered in front of him.

He would make her talk, though.

Once out of the cell and not feeling as much pain as before, Hel had regained a bit of her arrogance. Not the full measure she'd shown before he'd taken the dreadnought, but enough to be annoying.

"What do you think you're going to get out of me, Titan?" she asked. "Do you think I had some sort of special connection to the Ascendant from that cell?"

Alistair had demanded he be alone with her, but Thoreaux had only agreed to it after he’d promised not to beat her to death. Alistair meant to keep that promise. Thoreaux was doing as he'd been told: he was watching his blind spots.

The two of them sat in a medbay alcove. Alistair could get her more meds if needed, but there was enough privacy to allow them to speak freely.

Hel was staring at him, waiting for him to answer her question. Instead of speaking, he touched the small table in front of them. The Ascendant's face popped up in the same holovid as before. "Watch this and don't speak," he instructed.

The recording played through, and Alistair kept his emotions in check this time. He wouldn't let the assassin see what his friends had. Even when his wife showed her face, he didn't tear up.

It ended, and Hel looked up from the table. Her face was still badly bruised, though the fractures had been set and dealt with. She would need more surgery before her beauty returned, but she could speak now, and that was what he wanted. "What do you think is going to happen after seeing that?"

"All of this." She opened her arms to indicate the entire medbay. "For that question? You wanted me to watch that video and tell you what's going to happen? You have to be joking, Titan."

"Don't think because I let you talk, I won't stop it again very quickly." Alistair took a step forward, and the woman raised her hands in defense.

"Calm down, psycho," she said. "I'll tell you what I think. You don't have to be a genius or have any kind of in with the Ascendant to figure out what he's about to do. It would seem the Myrmidons aren't chasing you right now, and who knows what sort of reason drives them to do anything? The Ascendant isn't lying about the dreadnoughts. If you hop into the fourth dimension, you'll see them there. He's sending more, too, and the wife? That threat is simple enough. Do anything he doesn't like, and he'll kill the woman." She shrugged. "You're out of options, Titan. You had a good run, but there wasn't ever any way you were going to overcome them. You knew that."

"You're saying the only reason he has her is to threaten me? That she's there so I'll do what he wants? That's it?"

Hel looked like she almost pitied him. "You poor, poor man. You thought...what? That she had traded on you? Maybe. I don't know. Depends on how brainwashed she is by the Commonwealth. The Ascendant doesn't care about that, though. As long as she fakes what she's supposed to fake, the Ascendant will let her play her game unless you don't surrender."

Alistair just stared at her for a moment. He believed what she was saying. It fit. Only his anger at his wife being used had hidden these simple facts from him. "Is there anything else you can tell me, Hel?"

"I'd give it up if I were you. Save your wife. Maybe save those thousands back on that gods-forsaken planet, too. The Ascendant wants you. No one else."

Alistair put a Clip on Hel, then left the alcove. He found the first droid doctor he saw and said, "Fix her. When you’re done, put her back in the brig."

He exited the medbay and found Thoreaux waiting for him. "Is she—"

"She's fine, bleeding heart," Alistair said as he turned down the hall. "I instructed them to give her medical care and then put her back in the brig. You can stop worrying about that, at least."

"What did she say?" Thoreaux called as Alistair strode away.

"I need time to think. Tell the council to meet me in two standard hours."

Thoreaux had another meeting to attend first, one called by Servia. She didn't want Pro there.

He'd only gone to the medbay to make sure their leader didn't murder that woman. He'd been happy to see the man keep his word, though he would have understood if he’d killed her. Thoreaux didn't want that to happen, but “evil” was the word that described her best.

He watched Pro walk down the corridor and saw Obs join him at the end. The drathe was on patrol, moving around the ship at intervals to make sure no coups were bubbling up.

Obs followed Pro as he turned down another hallway. They'd meet in two hours, and hopefully, he'd have some idea what they were going to do. Thoreaux was at a loss, and now he had to go deal with Servia.

He made his way back to the room where they'd watched the Ascendant’s message. The rest of the council was there: Servia, Faitrin, and the AllMother. Relm was still on the bridge. The other two were seated at the table, while Servia leaned against the wall. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her face showed her displeasure.

The door shut behind Thoreaux. "He wants to meet with us in two hours. He's doing his thinking thing again." He looked at Servia. "What do you want to talk about?" he asked as if he didn't already know. As if everyone in the room wasn't aware of what this meeting was about.

Servia didn't uncross her arms. "You don't think it's wise to talk about what happened when he saw his wife?"

Thoreaux shrugged. "What did you expect to happen? It was his wife. Of course, he loves her. If he hadn't shown emotion, I'd worry he might be a psychopath."

Servia shook her head. "No, this is different. I want to know how much you knew about her, Thoreaux?"

He raised both his eyebrows. "Do you think you can question me like that?"

"I didn't realize you were above me in a question hierarchy," she shot back. "It's a damn fair question. How much did you know about her before you saw that?"

Thoreaux did his best to hold his anger in. He didn't like being questioned like this, as if he had been trying to hide something from these people. Maybe it went back to his parents' crimes, or maybe it was simply him being human. "I already told you what I knew, Servia. He asked to see her when he first got to Pluto. I showed him what our satellites had been able to gather. That's it. We never talked about it again."

Servia's gaze fell on the AllMother, and to Thoreaux, it looked as harsh as it had when directed at him. "You knew this?"

The AllMother met Servia's glare. "I knew everything about him, child. It was my job to know."

"Everything else about him is okay. I don't have a problem with it. The way he reacted when he saw his wife? What he did to the elevator to keep us from stopping him while he killed someone? I have a problem with those two things because they mean he's unstable. It means he might do something rash when it comes to her. Damn it, he already has."

The AllMother cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowed, and stared at Servia for a long moment.

"What?" Servia asked.

"I'm trying to understand how you think this universe works, child," she replied with her head still tilted to the side. "I'm baffled. You have no problem with anything else about the man, but his love for his wife is a sticking point with you. Do you think anything else would be the same about him if he didn't love his wife? Or do you think that maybe a key part of him might be necessary to create the whole? Do you think you're any different? That the pieces which make up your life, if removed, wouldn't change who you are?" She paused and straightened. "I didn't pick him despite his love for his wife; I picked him because of it."

Thoreaux remembered back to Pluto when he'd held doubts about the man. It had been Servia who’d challenged him to make his doubts known to the AllMother, but he hadn't done it in this way. Servia might be wrong, but Thoreaux saw bravery in her too.

Servia didn't hold back her chastising statement. "Even if you're right, Mother, we should have been told about the attachment he has to someone who is still part of the Commonwealth. We all needed to be aware of what that might mean."

Faitrin raised her hand from the table. "Want to expand on that, Servia?"

Lips pursed, she nodded. "Right now, what's he thinking about? Surely, his wife has to weigh heavily on his mind because I think we can all guess what that message was: a threat. Do what we want, or we'll kill her. What is Pro going to do then? If it's his life and our movement versus his wife's life? Do you think he's going to side with us? Do you think he'll give himself up? Do any of us have any idea?"

Faitrin tapped her finger lightly on the table. "My vote is he sticks with us."

"Same," Thoreaux agreed.

The AllMother chuckled softly. "I'm not sure why any of this matters. If we're voting, Servia, clearly I'm on the side that says he will not betray us. However, you act as if we have a choice in the matter. As if we're somehow going to find another leader while we sit on a dreadnought that is scheduled for imminent destruction." She shook her head with a wry smile. "My children, for better or worse, our fates are tied to him."

The room fell silent then, and Thoreaux looked at Servia. The AllMother was right. None of it mattered now because the only person with the attributes necessary to keep them alive was Prometheus. They either trusted him or died.

Servia still had her arms crossed. "I want to talk to him about it. As soon as possible."

Faitrin laughed. "He doesn't seem too keen on talking about his wife."

"Well, he'll need to be," she countered.

Thoreaux raised his hands. "Okay. I'm going to go back to the medbay and check on the bitch down there. We've got about another standard hour and a half before he wants to meet with us." He shrugged and glanced at Servia. "I'd wait until after the meeting before you talk to him. You know how he is with his thinking."

He didn't wait for a response. He left the room and headed for a place he shouldn't be going alone.

Chapter Six

“Love—true love—allows us to rise higher than apes on the food chain.”

—The AllMother

Hel had watched the former Titan leave the room and listened as he told the droid doc what to do: fix her, then put her in the brig. That was what the Titan planned to do with her in the short time he had left to live. It also meant Hel had a short time left to live because Kane was exactly where the Ascendant wanted him. They were unable to hide or run, so the Fleet would destroy this ship and everyone on it.

That was something Hel couldn't allow to happen, not as long as she was aboard.

She didn't want to fight Kane again, not in a fair match-up. The man was barely human, and regardless of her talents, she wasn't equipped to deal with him. He had left very few Titans alive, so the medbay was empty since the injured had succumbed to their wounds quickly. Hel didn't care in the slightest what had happened to the bodies; she was just glad the majority of the droid docs were inactive.

When she heard Kane’s direction to the droid doc, she understood she would not be returning to the brig. Since the doc would have to take the clip off to fix the fracture in her forehead, she would bide her time. There was only one to deal with, and despite its innate android strength, it wasn't created to fight.

As soon as the doc took the clip off, Hel made her move. Her face and body were badly damaged, but she was pumped up with enough drugs to feel almost nothing. Her body was working pretty well, which was all she needed.

Hel rose and grabbed the doc’s head with both hands, then yanked backward as hard as she could. The droid offered virtually no resistance. Its metal-and-wire neck came free, and using all her strength, she pulled until fluid started leaking, then dropped the metal contraption on the deck.

She looked at the torso. It wasn't inactive, but close enough. It was shaking a bit on the ground, and one of its legs was contracting and releasing, but it wouldn't be able to stop her. She examined the rest of the medbay quickly, moving from room to room. Everything was silent, meaning Kane had shut this area down.

Hel didn't have her Whip, but she appropriated a scalpel. She could do more damage with a blade than many Titans could with a MechPulse.

When she reached the entrance to the medbay, she realized she was going to have a small problem. Her security clearances would have been erased, so to get off this gods-forsaken ship, she'd have to get them reinstated. She retrieved the droid-doc and dragged it to the wall panel. It felt like she was moving a bag of cement, but she eventually got it there, although she was out of breath. Now she had to figure out how to prop it up to do a lens scan for the panel.

The medbay door opened, and one of Kane's lackeys stepped through. Hel smiled, missing teeth and newly set jaw looking grotesque. "Hi, darling."

Surprised, the lackey reached for his waist, but Hel was much too fast.

She straightened and extended one leg as she moved, catching him in the groin. He doubled over, though one hand was still trying to find his StarBeam. Hel laid her right fist across his jaw hard enough to bring the lackey to his knees. He was still trying to get that StarBeam, though. Hel straddled his back, and with one hand, pulled his head back. She put the scalpel in the other hand against his neck.

"Grab for the weapon again, and I'll carry your head around this ship to open the doors I want. Understand?"

She felt the lackey's hand slacken, and she stroked the scalpel lightly across his neck and face, drawing blood.

"Good choice. Now, we have some things to do before we get off this ship. Come along, my new friend."

As Thoreaux was being escorted out of the medbay with a scalpel to his neck, Servia was making her way to see Prometheus. She'd heard what Thoreaux told her but had disregarded it. Maybe Pro did need to think, but he also needed to talk to her. She'd risked her life more than once for him, and she wanted to know he would do the same for her should the need arise, regardless of what happened to his wife back on Earth.

She went to his quarters, and with her hands on her hips, looked into the lens and said, "I don't care if you're thinking. We need to talk."

Moments passed, and Servia wondered if he was going to let her in.

When the door opened, the drathe was sitting on his haunches, looking up at her. Inside the room, Pro sat on a bed. He was leaning forward, his massive hands clasped, looking at her. "Come on in."

Servia walked past the drathe, who licked her hand as she entered. When the door shut behind her, she didn't go any farther, only waited for Obs to pad over next to his master.

"Thoreaux told you I wanted two hours?" Pro asked.

She nodded. "He did, but I can't wait. I need to talk to you."

"About what?" The man's eyes were red, and while his face was dry, it was clear he'd been crying. Servia softened some at that. She'd thought a lot about those she loved over the past few minutes, and now she saw the toll this was taking on him.

Her voice softened a bit. "I need to know about your wife."

Pro's eyes narrowed. "What about her?"

Servia wasn't sure what to do next. She could proceed as she had originally intended and demand his loyalty. She saw in the man's face, though, that he might not react as she wanted him to. He was guarded about his wife even now.

What is it you want, Servia? Why did you come here? she asked herself.

I want Alistair to not make the same mistakes he did.

She took another step into the room, deciding to tell him something she'd never thought to share with anyone. She swallowed, then said, "What's her name?"

Pro was obviously surprised by the question. "Luna."

"That's a beautiful name," Servia whispered.

He nodded and looked down at his hands.

Servia moved a step closer. "I came here wanting something from you, but I think I'd like to tell you a story if you don't mind. Do you have time to hear it? It won't take too long."

Prometheus stood up and walked to a chair against the wall, picked it up, and placed it in front of the bed before sitting down again. "Tell me your story, Servia. It seems like death is always right around the corner, but it hasn't gotten here yet. Maybe it'll wait a little longer."

Servia took the seat. She was nervous for multiple reasons. She didn't know how much time they had, and regardless of what Pro said, he didn't know either. Yet here she was, about to start story-fucking-time.

She was also nervous because only the AllMother knew about this. In some ways, it wasn't fair since she knew about Thoreaux's parents, but he'd never heard about her past. He knew about her parents, of course, but not the whole story—because the whole story included a young man named Appius and his death.

Chapter Seven

“The difference between my sister and me is I still respect my lineage. She thinks she can forsake it. We are de Finitas forever and ever.”

—The AllSeer

Servia had known she was going to marry Appius from the moment she saw him. In that way, she was a lot like Prometheus.

They’d met when he was seventeen and she was sixteen.

Within the AllMother's family, there was no royalty. If there had been, both of their families would have been part of it.

Her parents were close to the AllMother, but Appius' were slightly closer. Truthfully, it should have been him and Thoreaux serving her. It was only through Appius' idiocy that Servia wound up in the spot where he belonged.

Was it idiocy, Servia? she wondered whenever the thought came to her. Or was it love?

Love.

It had always been about love.

Servia remembered the first time she saw him. He was tall, his skin much darker than anyone Plutoborn. At that age, the two of them were not allowed on Pluto. The AllMother kept all children off the planet, though the reason wouldn't become apparent until a decade later. They'd both been on one of Venus' moons. Their parents were gone, doing whatever the movement required of them.

The kids stayed wherever the Commonwealth wasn't hunting too ruthlessly. Servia had been awestruck by the young man's beauty and elegance, so she'd done what came naturally. She'd walked up to him and made a fool of herself.

"I've never seen someone as tan as you."

He'd been in the middle of biting into an apple, and he stopped, mouth open wide, eyes almost as large. He pulled the apple back and said, "Excuse me?"

"I've never seen someone as tan as you," she repeated, sounding as confident as always but wanting to crawl into her skin and then disappear from the world.

Appius chuckled as he put his apple down. "How well-educated are you?"

"Excuse me?" she shot back.

He raised his hands in surrender. "I only mean, have you heard of Africa on Earth? It no longer exists, obviously, but it did, and that's where my people are originally from. That's the darkness in my skin, though there's been mixing, I'm sure. Or else I'd be even more tan."

He grinned at that last bit, and Servia didn’t ask if she could sit down.

She just did.

Two weeks later, he gave her her first kiss.

A month later, they made love.

Servia might have romanticized the whole affair, and wasn't that natural? After everything that came, wasn’t it natural to look back on a piece of life and think, Yes, that was perfect.

The two of them had fought like any young couple, though there was a sense of fear permeating the relationship. Neither of them knew if they would get the dreaded holovid, the one the AllMother sent to children whose parents died in the line of duty. This was before Servia had met the old woman, though she knew her parents loved the AllMother dearly.

Appius scored some imported wine. It was hard to get because the moons around Venus had been terraformed, but not in a way that would support the growing of grapes. Distilleries could brew fake vintages, but a year into their relationship, Appius had worked hard to find something real.

Servia hadn't even known what the hell it was. The AllMother might have held their families in high esteem, but by Earth standards, they were savagely poor. To get actual wine? It wasn't conceivable.

Yet, Appius had managed it.

The two of them were young, but parental supervision was not very strict on the moons. They managed to sneak out of their dorms and find a field of grass. Servia hadn't known what Appius was planning, only that she was glad to be out of the dorm and in this field with her boyfriend. The slight risk of being caught added to the excitement.

After they were beyond the lights of the small town, Appius pulled a blanket out of his bag, laid it out, and squatted on it. Without saying anything, he pulled the bottle out of the bag. It had no label, and the cork, something Servia had never seen before, was old.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Shhh," Appius said with a grin. He reached back into the bag and pulled out a metal contraption. It was something else Servia had never seen, but the smile on Appius' face kept her quiet. He screwed the contraption into the cork and pulled.

He glanced up with an open bottle in his hand.

"Appius, what in the hell are you doing?" Servia couldn't help but let his smile infect her.

He tossed the contraption on the blanket and pulled something else out of the bag: a small banged-up tin cup. He handed it to her, then took one for himself. "Sit."

She sat on the blanket. He nodded at her cup, which she held in front of him. He poured it full, then did the same for his own.

He carefully placed the cork back in the bottle without a word, then titled his cup toward her. "Cheers, my love."

They touched cups, but as she went to drink, he slowed her hand. "You're supposed to smell it first."

Her face grew confused. "What? Why? What is this?"

Grinning, Appius said, "Wine, love. Tell me what it smells like."

She did. "Cherry. Wood?" She looked quizzically at him.

"Probably how it's stored while it ages."

"I think a hint of chocolate? I can't tell."

Appius titled the cup to his nose, closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply. After a moment, he drank, and she did too. Servia would never forget the taste or the sweetness as it sat on her tongue before washing down her throat. She'd looked at him, eyes alight. "That's not bad."

His face said he begged to differ, and he shook his head. "No way. It’s awful."

She mock-grabbed for his cup. "Gimme yours, then!"

He caught her hand and pulled her close. "I love you, Servia." He leaned in and kissed her lips.

When they pulled apart, she said, "I love you too, Appius."

They drank the bottle of wine together, slowly getting tipsy, then quickly getting drunk. They ended up on their backs, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the massive planet their little orb circled.

"Do you miss your parents?" Appius asked her.

"Yeah, I think so. It's been so long since I've seen them that I sorta forget about 'em." She turned her head to the side so she could see him. "What about you?"

He nodded. "I do. It's been a long time for me, too. They've given their lives to this movement, and I sometimes wonder if it's worth it."

Servia's face screwed up at that. "What do you mean, ‘Worth it?’"

He was quiet for a moment. When he answered, he sounded more emotional than she'd ever heard him. "I'm not being facetious when I say they've given their whole lives to the movement. Everything, Servia. Even their son. I'm expected to follow in their footsteps, as I'm sure you are. Their son, though I'm not sure I'm that, outside of from a biological standpoint. I don't even know them."

Servia wasn't sure what to say. She'd never heard anyone talk like this. You gave your life to the movement because in the end, freedom was more important than any individual.

Appius chuckled, more than tipsy. "It's the same thing as the damned Commonwealth, Servia. The individual is sacrificed for the collective. We trick ourselves into thinking we're different or better."

He turned to look at her, seeing the concern on her face. "Oh, I'm just talking, babe. Don't listen to me. I drank too much of that wine."

Servia turned her head and stared at the planet. She was drunk, yes, but she didn't agree with him. The AllMother was good. The AllMother's choices allowed individuals to once again flourish. In her current state, she could only feel those things. She couldn't put them into words.

Tears came to her eyes. She'd never thought her parents had sacrificed her for this movement. She didn't want to consider it.

"Come here," Appius said and pulled her closer to him. She let herself be enveloped in his arms. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm drunk, and I'm angry at them, I guess. That's all. I wish I was closer to them."

Servia fell asleep in his arms that night, and when they woke, they had to rush to make it to their dorms without getting caught. She had something she'd only heard about, a hangover, and much of what Appius had told her was forgotten. Getting through the day became the name of the game, and the words they'd exchanged the previous night had nothing to do with that.

About six months later, she finally remembered what had been said.

The attack on the moon came two hours before dawn. There was no warning. Later they would know it had been an inside job. Someone in their movement had revealed the base's coordinates because, without them, the Commonwealth wouldn't have been able to find them. The moon was too big and their footprint too small.

Titans fell like rain. They came with their MechPulses and their Whips. Young or old, they cared not. They killed indiscriminately, and Servia had woken to screams. The Titans were in her building.

She jumped out of bed as the other girls in her dorm room screamed in fear. Servia had known she was different from the girls she lived with. She quickly hushed them and made it known fear wouldn't be tolerated.

"If we want to live, we have to keep our wits."

She'd slowly opened the door to their room. The lights on her side of the hall were off, while those farther down were flickering. She didn't see anything dangerous. She looked back into the dark room. "Come on. We've got to hurry."

Servia was terrified, but she couldn't let it consume her. She'd known they were at war almost since she'd been able to walk. She had trained her whole life for this, and now it had come. She knew her duty. Get to safety. Help people if she could, but get to safety.

She and her family were valuable to the AllMother in ways the others here weren't. She didn't know why, only that the AllMother thought so, and she believed it.

Appius was the same. He was to get to safety.

Both of them knew where to go if something like this happened. Everyone on the moon did, but not everyone on the moon was prepared to get there. Many of them were like the girls Servia roomed with.

The group followed her into the corridor. She moved quickly, her bare feet making almost no noise on the floor. She took the far stairs, heading down toward the nearest exit.

Her mind kept going to Appius as her feet carried her down level after level. Was he okay? Would he make it to an escape pod? She didn't consider that he would come looking for her. They both understood what was expected and what must be done. This was war. They were at war. There were rules and a code to follow.

Yet when she reached the bottom floor, she understood why she'd made it so far. The Titans wouldn't leave a staircase unattended for the very reason Servia was now demonstrating—someone might escape.

The Titan lay dead, half inside the building, half out. Appius stood in the corner, the weapon he’d used in his hands. Servia stopped and stared at the Titan. She saw how Appius had done it, and she couldn't imagine the fear he must have felt. How the hell he'd managed, she didn't know.

Her eyes went to him and the weapon. It was what farmers used to kill the massive cow-like creatures bred on these moons. They put it against the beast's head, and a ten-inch stake shot out and obliterated the animal's brain. Somehow Appius had crept behind this Titan and used the weapon on his neck.

Appius stepped out of the dark corner. "We've got to hurry. They're everywhere."

"You're a fool," Servia said. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

He ignored her and stepped over the Titan into the crisp night. She grabbed his shoulder, honestly pissed at what he'd done. "Why didn't you get to the pods?"

"Because I fucking love you." She saw that he meant it. He loved her in a way her parents didn’t, and in a way she could probably never love him. At that moment, despite the death all around her, everything was clear: who she was, who she would be. Appius had shown her who she should be.

He started moving again, heading to the fields, where it would be too dark for the Titans to see them. Hopefully, they wouldn't look that way, and there would be pods left when they arrived.

The small group moved across the field, though one of the girls was starting to lag. Appius turned to help her, but Servia shook her head. She said nothing else. They both knew the rules. Get to safety. Get to safety. Get to safety.

That was all that mattered.

They ran. Eventually, two of the other girls fell behind. Servia never found out what had happened to them.

"There they are." Servia came to a stop, putting one hand on her knees while pointing about a half-mile in the distance. The launches were stealthed, but from this distance and angle, she could see them. "We're almost there."

They ran faster than they had before. Faster than Servia thought possible. They ran for their very lives, knowing death could grab them at any moment. They had closed half the distance when it happened, and everything moved in slow motion for Servia.

She heard the noise first, a high-pitched whistle that suddenly stopped.

Next, she felt the blood. She didn't know what it was at first, only that something warm and wet hit the side of her face.

She looked to her right, where the noise and blood had come from. One of her roommates lay on the ground, the back of her head caved in.

"RUN!" Servia shouted. She had no doubt what had caused the girl’s death: a Titan sniper.

She took off, and while Appius could have run faster than her, he didn't. He stayed with her.

Servia saw he was slowing down and getting behind her. "FUCKING GO! SPEED UP!" she screamed, but he said nothing, just ran behind her, almost on top of her but not quite.

She knew what he was doing—trying to stop the next shot from hitting her.

Servia heard the whistle and did the only thing she could think of: she fell forward, spreading her hands out in front of her. Her face hit the grass, and she felt something lying on her leg. Not something, but someone. She knew who it was and that the projectile had killed him.

Appius was dead, and if she looked at him, she'd see his head caved in like her roommate's.

Moving would mean death for her, though. Her only hope for survival was in lying still in this grass, hardly breathing. They had to think the single shot had killed them both.

Practically in shock, Servia didn't move for hours. Sometimes she heard shrieks from afar, but she didn't flinch. She didn't know if anyone was watching. She didn't know if they were walking across the field now, ready to stab those legendary Whips through her back.

The sun was rising when someone finally came for her. They weren't dressed in MechGear but ripped clothing, and they had dirt covering their faces and bodies.

"Hurry," the woman said. "There's one pod left. The directive was we can’t leave until we find you or your body."

Servia didn't understand what the woman was saying. "Get down," she whispered harshly. "They’ll see you."

The woman grabbed her hand and ripped her off the ground. Servia desperately turned to look at Appius, and what she saw was forever burned into her brain.

He was dead, his head caved in and dried blood on the grass around him. She saw bits of bone and stuff that looked like brains. His beautiful dark skin was much paler.

"COME ON!" the woman shouted in her ear, breaking Servia out of her trance.

The two sprinted to the last remaining pod. As they lifted off the rock, Servia stared at her first love. There would be no burial, not even one into space. His body would rot there until some beast came and ate him.

He'd died for her.

Chapter Eight

“Prometheus doesn’t understand what he is to become.”

—The AllMother

Servia sat with one leg crossed over the other, almost as calm as she'd been when the story started. Softer, perhaps. Pro was still leaning forward and looking her in the eyes. "If he'd done what he was supposed to, he'd probably still be alive today. Maybe we'd have broken up, or maybe we'd have stayed together, but he'd be alive, and that matters to me because Appius made this universe better."

Pro was quiet for some moments, then he looked down at his boots. "What about when you came here to rescue me?"

"You gave us no choice," Servia responded. "It wasn't out of love for you. It was in service of this mission. Her mission. The thing so many people have already given their lives for. If you weren't crucial to this movement, I wouldn't have come."

He nodded, still staring at his boots. "Do you remember on Pluto when I found you trying to make it to the portal? I had the AllMother over my shoulder. They were about to burn the whole place. Do you remember that?"

"I do."

He raised his head and met her cool gaze. "You were helping an injured person walk to the portal. I don't know who that person was, which means they can't be crucial to the movement. Yet, when you were young, you let your friends fall by the wayside as you rushed to the pods. There's a difference you're not accounting for."

Servia opened her mouth to speak, though she didn't know what she was going to say. She didn't have an answer because she hadn't realized the difference until now. She had seen someone who needed her help and simply picked the person up.

Pro raised a hand to stop her from talking. "Look, I don't want an explanation. My point is, you've changed since then, even if you didn't want to. What that young man did was one of the most courageous things I've ever heard about. You may not think what he did helped the movement, but here you are, a leader in it. You would have died in that field otherwise."

Pro stood up and moved over to the wall, his back to her. The drathe watched as he walked, not taking his eyes off his master. "If you came here to ask me if I would sacrifice all of you to see my wife again, the answer is yes. I would. I would burn this whole universe to ash if it meant I could lay with her one more time." He turned, his face set. "Nothing will ever change that, Servia. I would go further than Appius, by a long, long way. What matters is, will that happen? Will I be faced with a choice of seeing her or giving you all up?" He shook his head. "No. I won't. The Ascendant might offer something like that, but he would never mean it. He wants to see me dead, and most likely my wife as well. There will be no truce. No quarter. Even now, he’s trying to make me do something stupid by showing her to me, but I didn't come into this room to think about how I might surrender. I came here to consider how we might still overcome."

He took a step forward.

"The only way I see my wife again is by killing him. Do you understand that?"

Servia's voice was a whisper. "I think I do."

"Good."

He looked like he might be about to say something else, but an AI's voice interrupted. "Someone would like to speak to you, sir."

"Put them through," Pro said.

Relm's voice came over the comm. "Broth, we've got a fucking problem."

Thoreaux's ear was bleeding from the assassin's blow. He didn't know if his eardrum had ruptured, but the side of his head hurt like hell. He hadn't mouthed off since she'd clouted him, but his fear was growing despite his silence.

They were now in the brig's elevator, and Thoreaux was cursing himself for repairing the thing. He should have let Pro beat the hell out of this bitch, because they were heading down to the Primuses.

The elevator stopped. The man and woman were both lying down, looking at the newcomers.

Thoreaux watched their eyes widen as they saw him with the Whip to his back and the bitch standing behind him.

She reached to the non-broken side of the elevator and opened both cells. "Let's hurry, darlings. I don't know how much time we have, but I don't think the modified one is going to be as friendly with his accommodations if we're caught."

Both Primuses got to their feet. The man, Ares, hopped across the space first. The woman—Thoreaux thought her name was Veena—waited until they were situated before bounding across.

Hel handed Ares the second Whip she'd forced Thoreaux to get. The crimson one. Ares took it, his eyes unreadable.

"Thank you."

"That's all you have to say, darling?" Hel asked. "Never mind. There may be time for a celebration later if we hurry."

The woman’s pockets were full of stimpacks and morphoids. She'd be keeping herself moving and the pain at bay for days with those.

The elevator started up, taking only seconds to reach the top level. Hel forced Thoreaux off first, then stepped off quickly. The Titan unfurled his Whip, letting the three strands drop almost to the ground. "Where are we going?" he asked.

Veena answered. "The one pod they can't catch up to. It's the only way." She turned her gaze on Thoreaux. "Do they know where it is?"

Thoreaux might have learned to keep from mouthing off after the blow to his head, but it hadn't scared him enough to tell them a godsdamn thing.

Hel slapped him across the face, drawing blood from his lips. "Answer."

Thoreaux spat the blood on the deck, then met the bitch's eyes. He kept silent.

"There will be time for torture later, dear," Hel said. She turned her attention to Veena. "It doesn't matter. It's the only chance. Let's go."

Alistair stood in the brig with Servia, Faitrin, and Relm. They had their weapons drawn, but no one to aim them at.

"Faitrin, are they still on the ship?" Alistair asked.

The pilot's eyes were grayed over as she harmonized with the AI. "I believe so. I'm trying to trace Thoreaux's movements. It was easy enough to follow him in the beginning, but they may have a pilot with them now. I can't tell. Someone is masking it."

Alistair turned his attention to Servia. "Can the AllMother help us?"

Faitrin interrupted. "No. They've got the blocks up again. That's another reason I think they have a pilot with them, someone who can control a lot of the ship."

"Can you shut them down?" Alistair's voice was tense—not quite a yell, but close.

"No. They're reprogramming the AI right now. With the Primus back, they're gaining control."

Alistair paused for a second, shoving his temper down. "This is the most important question I am going to ask you, Faitrin. I need a straight answer. Are they trying to take command of the ship again?"

The pilot was quiet for much longer than Alistair wanted. He kept his mouth closed, though, knowing she was doing everything she could to get the correct answer.

She finally responded, "No. They're not."

"There's only one place they're going, then."

Alistair took off toward the pod bay. He didn't look behind, didn't care if they could catch up with him. His only thought was of Thoreaux, his second-in-command, the man he needed above all others.

The others fell behind, unable to keep up.

Alistair rounded the last corner.

The pod bay door was open.

He unleashed his Whip as he rushed to the opening.

The pod was gone and with it Thoreaux.

The AllMother, Alex, looked at her protégé. He was the first she'd ever considered calling a protégé. All the others who had served her, some dying of old age, most from unnatural causes, were only the means to an end, the end being him.

As she watched him pacing in front of her, she felt pride. She couldn't tell him, of course. Not now. Maybe not ever. He would think her insane with everything collapsing around him.

He'd even adopted Thoreaux's mannerism, pacing across the room instead of sitting as usual.

Pro didn't stop as he spoke. "What do we do? Don't tell me you don't know. Right now, I need your guidance because our only bargaining chips with the Commonwealth just left us, and they took one of this movement's most important people with them."

The AllMother was quiet, not letting his frustration and anger disturb her. She didn't glance at Servia. She didn't need to. Her modifications were coming back now, her health returning. She didn't know if it'd been the contact with her brother or simply the time she’d been awake.

Either way, Servia was distraught. Relm was fearful. Faitrin, the new pilot, was putting all her faith in Prometheus.

"I'm not being flippant," the AllMother said, "but I don't know what to do. I'm not omnipotent. If I'm not actively using my abilities, I don't see things, just like I missed what was happening with Thoreaux. The decision is yours to make. I honestly don't even know where to start."

Pro stopped walking at that statement and turned to her with his hands on his waist. He stared at the old woman with an expression near disdain. The AllMother shrugged.

She knew the truth. This was a difficult choice, but there would be many more to come, some harder than this. If they were to do what she'd set out to do, this was only the beginning of his choices.

Thoreaux might have to die. The AllMother never guaranteed anyone life, only the chance to change the universe.

Pro turned from the AllMother and looked at the other three in the room. "Faitrin, do we have any idea where they're going?"

The pilot shook her head.

Pro walked over to the nearest seat and collapsed into it, then leaned back and put his hand to his brow. "If that psycho is in charge, which I bet she is, I need to figure out what she would do. I don't have any damn time to think."

Alex could feel his frustration almost baking off him.

He would have to make a quick decision, something he wasn't good at and preferred not to do. Yet, in the coming war, it would be necessary, and she knew that. All of this might seem like life and death to Pro, and it was, but she knew it was his true training, building him into the one man who could bring down an empire.

"She doesn't care about making it back to Earth, at least not without me in tow. She only took Thoreaux because he was an easy target." Pro was quiet for a moment. "Right now, she wants to survive, and she knows more about the universe than most Commonwealth citizens." His head whipped toward Faitrin. "Where is the nearest portal outside of Phoenix?"

Alex watched the pilot's eyes gray over as she checked with her AI.

"It's a long way off, Pro. Their pod will never make it. Those things are purposely built huge distances apart."

"Fine," Prometheus said. "What's the farthest populated planet they can make it to in that pod that's in the direction of a portal?"

"One minute," the pilot responded.

Alex closed her eyes as they waited and searched for Thoreaux, but he was too far away. He'd been too far for a while now. Perhaps in her younger years she could have found him, but that was no longer true. Thoreaux was lost to her, and she didn't want to focus on that. She had to focus on Pro and his ability to retrieve the young man.

"It's a fairly populated planet, Pro. The name is CP36, best I can tell, but that's the Commonwealth's name for it. The locals call it something different."

Prometheus stood up. It was clear his decision was made. "Get the ship you and Servia brought ready. We're leaving in a half-hour."

Relm clapped his hands. "Well, that's damn good news. All this waiting around and talking was starting to bore me, broth, if you don't mind a bit of honesty."

Faitrin raised an eyebrow. "Has anyone ever checked you to see if you're missing a chromosome or something?"

Relm wiggled his eyebrows. "I will neither listen nor respond to your hatred." He pushed the crook of his arm out and moved closer to Servia. "Come, good lady. Let us go save Thoreaux and leave these who would hate on us alone."

Servia finally cracked a smile. That was good. The closest person in the world to Servia was Thoreaux, and Alex knew they would need her more now than ever if they were to get him back.

"Jeeves says it's ready," Faitrin told them. "It's been ready the entire time."

"Go get weapons,” Pro instructed. “Ten minutes, then we're leaving."

"What about the ship?" Servia asked.

Pro was looking through the doorway, obviously ready to start chasing his second-in-command. "Leave a message that it's my gift to the Ascendant."

He stepped out of the room, and the drathe padded after him.

No one else looked at the AllMother, but everyone did as their commander ordered. They went to find weapons, leaving the old woman alone.

She didn't move for a bit but thought of the miles still to go. Her powers were returning, but her desire? She was tired, but Prometheus wasn't ready yet. She saw the power he would become, but...

"Your miles aren't done, crone," she told herself. "You will push on because you're nearly at the finish line. You didn't come this far to falter."

Alex stood up, and using her cane, she left the room.

Chapter Nine

“Your offspring should be more prepared for the world than you were.”

—Adrian de Livius

Veena had thought escape was a good thing, at least when Hel had arrived in that elevator. She'd spent the last day or two contemplating what would happen to her and her fleet, and the answers always came back the same: she would die. This ship and everyone on it would be destroyed. The rest of the fleet would probably survive.

When Hel had arrived with her Whip in hand, Veena had rejoiced.

Now?

Veena wondered if she'd traded one death warrant for another, this one signed by the assassin.

As near as Veena could tell, they'd been traveling for about five standard hours. This pod, while insanely fast, had very little in the ways of communication or scanning ability. They couldn't tell if they were being chased, and they could only make limited contact outside the pod.

When they first boarded, Veena had wanted to program it to go to another dreadnought, but Hel’s argument had won the day.

Her words had been simple. "If we go to another dreadnought without the Titan's head in our hands, we're as good as dead. It doesn't matter if both of you are Primuses; your lives are sacrificed. The only chance we have is to escape from here immediately, then figure out the next step."

Veena hated admitting Hel was right, but she was. If they made it to any other dreadnought without Kane, they'd probably be put in another brig.

Five hours out, though, Veena wanted to know the next step.

It looked like they had escaped the AllMother's hands. Their captive was asleep in the corner of the pod. No one had a Clip for him, but it wouldn't be hard to keep him in line.

Veena sat across from Ares, Hel next to him. She looked at the assassin. "Where are we going?"

Hel's head was lying against the wall behind her, her eyes closed. Veena knew she wasn't asleep from the way she touched her Whip.

"I know you hear me," Veena told her.

Without opening her eyes, Hel answered, "If you know that, and I’m not answering you, why do you continue speaking to me?"

"Because I want to know where we're heading. It's quite simple if you think about it, Hel."

"If you two were in charge, we'd still be in the brig."

Ares spoke up. "If we hadn’t listened to you, we wouldn't have been put in there, would we? I agree with Veena. Where are we going?"

Hel sighed. "I'm not going to be stupid enough to speak in front of the prisoner and tell you why we're going somewhere. Perhaps you two geniuses can figure it out on your own. However, we're heading to a well-populated planet. One with more people than Earth. From there, I'll figure out our next steps."

"You'll figure them out?" Veena said. "You're in charge, is that what you're thinking? Because last I checked, the moment we're out of this ship, protocol puts Ares in charge."

Hel laughed. "What is your call sign? Hawk? Flutter away, little bird. You're annoying me."

"Enough," Ares said. "We're in no position to bicker among ourselves, in case neither of you noticed. We're in a pod in space, heading to a planet none of us knows much about, in an unknown part of a foreign galaxy."

He stared at Hel first, then turned his gaze to Veena. She couldn't deny what he was saying, but what was the alternative? Letting this psychopath lead them to certain death? Veena did not doubt Hel was going to kill them the moment they were no longer useful. Now, on a strange planet with only a Subversive captive as a witness? It would be easy to do.

Hel didn't look at the Titan but remained leaning back with her eyes closed.

Ares didn't seem to care. "AI, on."

"How can I help you, sir?"

"How far are we from our destination?" he asked the primitive computer. "Better yet, what's the estimated time to arrival?"

"Current velocity puts our arrival at twenty-five standard hours, sir."

Ares continued with his questions. "If you are active for the same amount of time, will the pod have enough energy to make it to our destination?"

"At the current speed, yes," the AI answered.

"AI, off," Ares said, putting the computer into a dormant state so as to not drain extra power. "In twenty-five hours, we're getting off this pod, and Hel, I don't care about the Subversive. I'm not getting off without knowing the plan. I won't be a stranger in a strange land without knowing what's happening. If you want to test me on that, now's the time, assassin. As soon as you're done, I'm going to turn this AI back on and have it explain everything about this planet to me."

Hel smiled. "Do you think you’re as great as your mentor?"

"Well, given that when I went up against him, my face didn't end up like yours, I'd say I'm better than you."

Veena saw the slightest twinge of anger pass over Hel’s face. She hates losing, Veena thought. Or she hates people seeing that she lost. Don't forget that.

The anger passed quickly, and Hel shook her head. The former Titan had bashed her up badly. She would need facial reconstructive surgery as soon as possible.

The assassin started speaking. "You two have about the same number of brain cells between you as an Earth-donkey. If you want to put us at risk, I'll tell you the plan. If we try to get back to anything the Commonwealth owns—a dreadnought, a portal, anything—we're dead." She lifted her head away from the wall and opened her eyes. She stared first at Ares, then turned her gaze on Veena. "Does either of you doubt that? Do you think we can run back to the Ascendant, and he will welcome us with open arms?"

Veena didn't need to answer. They all knew the truth. The Ascendant might not have told them everything, but he had made that point extremely clear.

"Good. We're on the same page. Next, the Subversive over there? He isn't asleep. He may be acting like he is, and you've fallen for it because you're not trained in deception like I am. Hel nodded at him. "He's listening to everything we're saying. I'll give up the plan to satisfy you two idiots' curiosity. My plan, overall, is to make it to a portal. Where I go once I'm there is none of your concern. However, portals are spaced far apart, so it's going to take a bit of time to get to one."

She stretched her arms out and arched her back as if this whole thing was tiring her. She dropped them back into her lap before continuing, "That Subversive there is one of the few important ones in the whole movement. He's what we might call a 'valuable asset.' I'm betting he's valuable enough that the Titan will come for him. Plus, what else is he going to do? Wait there in that dreadnought for the Commonwealth to kill him? Not hardly. He's on the way right now, and if his AI is advanced, he'll be able to trace the dust particles our pod is dislocating. If he's smart, he'll figure out what I'm trying to do. Either way, he's coming. My plan, my Earth-donkeys, is to wait until he gets to the populated planet and then take his head."

She leaned forward and placed her elbows on her knees.

"That is the only fucking way any of us will get back to Earth." She looked down the pod at the Subversive. "You hear that, Thoreaux? If your AllMother somehow contacts you, let her know everything we're going to do."

The woman leaned back into her seat and resumed her former position.

Veena looked at her face quietly. Never before had she seen someone who had been beaten so harshly, not even in the Academy. Bones were sticking out in the wrong places, and the only reason she could speak as well as she did was that Kane had ended up needing something from her. Hel said she wanted Kane's head, but Veena wondered if that was true. She thought the woman might want more—a lot more. Maybe as much as the man's soul.

Twenty-five hours.

That was how much time Ares had to understand what he was walking into. The AI was telling him about the planet, and the population was huge, over a trillion people, and the physical size dwarfed Earth as well.

He had to do more, though, and he hoped Veena knew that as well. Hel was telling a half-truth. They couldn't return to Earth right now. Ares wasn't sure if they'd be able to return even if they'd killed Alistair. The Ascendant was not a man to forgive easily, and Ares and Veena had failed him multiple times. They'd sacrificed one dreadnought, probably two, a host of Titans, and most likely other assets Ares wasn't aware of. If they showed up with Alistair's head in a bag, they might soon find their own in the same bag.

How did Ares get out of that little situation?

His eyes were closed, his head leaning back like Hel's, yet he was simultaneously taking in all the information on the planet and thinking about what his father would do in this situation.

What lesson had he learned as a child that might be apt now? Because in this pod, hearing this AI recite a planet's history, Ares saw no way out. It seemed as if his death were certain.

That was unacceptable to him. He'd worked too hard and come too far to simply roll over. His father had given him enough lessons to last a lifetime. He only needed to find the one that fit.

His father had taught him the lesson, and it was a tough one for Ares to learn. He hadn't been Ares at the time, though he'd aged since the beating.

Romulus was fourteen, years away from starting the Academy. He once again ranked number one for his age group. He'd listened to his father, and Adrian was...”proud” wasn't the correct word. Neither was “happy,” and certainly not “content.”

He was waiting. His son was doing what was necessary, but Adrian knew it wasn't sufficient. The father’s eyes were always searching for a misstep because he knew his duty. He was the one who had to shape this young man into something the world couldn't destroy.

At fourteen, Romulus misstepped again.

The two of them went hunting twice a year, once in the fall and again in the spring. That fall, Romulus had asked if his friend could come, and Adrian had seen no harm in it. The young man was from good stock, and he didn't seem to be a bad influence on Romulus.

The three of them had traveled north, far from any major cities. They went for a week and stayed in one of Adrian's cabins. They would only eat if they could kill animals, and they’d only drink water they carried in buckets from the river that flowed half a kilometer from the cabin. For one week, twice a year, Adrian made sure his son was dependent on his wits and muscles to survive.

The new boy would do the same.

Adrian spoke to them both before they left. He'd already spoken to the boy's parents, laying out the same for them. If they didn't want their child to come, that was fine, but he felt they should know the truth of the matter.

"If you come, you will only eat what you kill. Not what I kill, but what you kill. Nor will I try to eat what you get for yourself. If you do not bring your pails of water up the hill, you will not drink. This week is relaxation, but it is also work. It is a different kind of survival than we practice in the real world."

The young man agreed to go, and the three took off into the wilderness.

The misstep took place during their first hunt.

Adrian remained back from the boys, studying them. The animals they stalked were dangerous. It was a breed of animal created about five hundred years previous, something lab-developed and released in a limited area for the exact reason Adrian now used them. They were modeled after velociraptors, though they had shaggy hair like a bear’s and weighed less than a raptor. Even the name was only slightly modified: a rapcor.

They traveled in packs of five or so and were dangerous creatures, if a bit rash in their decisions. They had a pack mentality, and when the pack rushed, they could make mistakes.

They came across a pack about two hours into their hunt. The creatures chittered, devouring prey that had been lab-created for them. Their backs were to the boys as they feasted on a beast that crawled on the ground like an alligator.

Romulus took the north side while his friend took the south, and they crept up slowly and quietly on the animals. With only two hunting, Adrian knew they would need to use tricks to win.

The young man made the first mistake. He wasn't as careful with his footwork as Romulus. Even in their feeding frenzy, the rapcors heard the snap of the twig. One of the furry animals lifted his head and looked in the direction of the noise.

The friend froze. He, of course, was trained in battle, as did all boys his age, but he'd never fought a rapcor. The animal chittered as it turned to face the human. Others in the group turned as well, chittering in their haunting way.

Adrian watched the friend, not moving. He had a StarBeam at his waist, but he wouldn’t pull it unless it was necessary. Death had to be a possibility before that would be used.

The rapcors spread out, their dangerous clawed front limbs pointing directly at the friend. Romulus stood behind them, as yet unnoticed. The pack mentality had focused them on the single newcomer. The boy still stood frozen.

Romulus moved then, and Adrian was furious. It was a stupid decision and a costly one. Adrian remained still, his face set as he watched a game he knew the end of.

Romulus moved with the speed that would make him famous. He had swapped his wooden stick for a metal one that had a blade on each end.

The rapcors didn't hear him immediately, but when he shoved the blade through the one in the middle, they quickly understood that more than one enemy was present.

Three turned toward Romulus while the remaining two remained focused on the frozen friend.

Romulus wielded his pole, keeping the animals at bay. One feinted to his left, and when Romulus sliced, the rapcor on his right leaped on him. The creature’s talons ripped down his back, opening his flesh.

To Romulus' credit, he didn't falter. His blade flashed behind his back and impaled the animal, but in doing so, he left his front open.

The rapcors fell on him. They were already atop his friend, the talons ripping him to shreds. Adrian might have watched the boy die, but he couldn't watch his progeny do the same.

He moved out of the woods that hid him and used the small laser pistol he held quickly. A shot to the head of each rapcor left them on the ground, bleeding and dead. One of them fell on Romulus, its long talons piercing his son’s chest.

Adrian checked both of them quickly to ensure they hadn’t taken enough damage to die here and now. When he’d assured himself that they had time, he picked up the teenagers and slung one over each of his shoulders, grunting slightly at the weight. He was a strong man, but this would be a test of both strength and endurance.

He carried the bleeding teenagers back to the cabin and dressed their wounds. He wouldn’t let them leave this cabin until he was able to talk with his son. There would be scars from this endeavor, without a doubt, but surgery could correct those later. What mattered right now was that his son had learned the lesson.

Two days passed. Fevers gripped the teenagers, and Adrian tended them as well as any nurse could. Although he told the boys there was no help out this far, he would never leave his son without medical attention. His bloodline needed to continue.

That was the point of his life, after all.

At the end of two days, the fevers of both children broke. Adrian let the friend sleep, but he went to Romulus’ bed.

The boy’s bedroom was simple: no holos, one desk, and a single blanket. Adrian had already removed the medical equipment and replaced it in its hiding place.

“How’s Triam?” Romulus asked as his father entered the room. He hadn’t seen his friend during the fever.

Adrian thought it a good first question. “He’s fine.” He moved to the bottom of the bed and placed his hands behind his back. “You almost died. You both did. If I had not been there, Romulus, you would have died.”

His son opened his mouth to speak but quickly realized it was not his place right now.

“Good,” Adrian said. “Listen instead, since you have barely made it back to life.”

Romulus nodded and remained silent.

“Do you remember what happened?” Adrian asked.

His son closed his eyes and thought, probably trying to recover his memories. Adrian had to hope he remembered because the lesson needed to be his, not his father’s. Adrian could diagram how it had happened and explain it, but in the end, it wouldn’t hold the same weight.

Finally, Romulus opened his eyes and nodded. “I think I remember, yes. Triam made a noise? I think it was a stick or something, but he spooked the rapcors. They turned on him and I moved in, but they spotted me too.”

He paused, his face growing stern and his eyes vacant as he thought back. “There were too many.” He nodded to himself. “Yes, too many.”

Adrian controlled his breathing, trying to master his anger. He loved his son, but sometimes the boy was foolish. He didn’t think critically enough about what had happened and what he could have done differently to change the outcome.

“No, boy.” His father was barely able to keep his anger at bay. “There weren’t too many. The two of you would have been able to wipe them out easily if you’d used the brains the gods gave you both.”

Adrian gripped the footboard until his knuckles were white and looked at them, forcing himself to calm down. The anger came from love, from his deep desire for his son to make something of himself and be greater than the father. He knew he was betraying his mandate by showing emotion.

Without looking up, he spoke. “Romulus, my time with you is running short. That’s not what I want since I’ve enjoyed having you as my son, but that is the way of life. You are mine for a short time, and then you are the Solar System’s. If you do not learn the lessons I seek to teach you, you won’t survive out there. Someone stronger, faster, and smarter will take your life from you, as well as everything you’ve tried to build.”

He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, then placed his hands behind his back. His countenance returned to stillness.

“Think, Romulus. Tell me what went wrong. There weren’t too many. What happened?”

His son’s eyes closed for longer this time. He was going deep, trying to figure out what had happened, which was what Adrian wanted.

He didn’t open his eyes as he spoke. “I went in too quickly. I rushed, thinking Triam needed my help. If I’d waited…” He opened his eyes and found his father. “If I’d waited a little longer, they would have been focused on Triam. I could have cut them down with one stroke.”

Adrian didn’t smile though he wanted to. He’d let his son nearly die for him to learn this lesson. It was a proud moment that could not be shared. “That’s correct. You didn’t let your enemy expose themselves. You forced yourself into a fight when it wasn’t necessary. If you wait, your enemy will show their vulnerability. They will undo themselves. Let them, and when you see their underbelly, cut it wide open.”

Part II

Chapter Ten

“The universal language isn’t math, it’s money, my dear.”

—Jeeves, Artificial Intelligence Entity

It took them five days to make it to the planet. The pod, given its higher speed, made it much sooner, though Jeeves couldn't calculate its exact time of arrival. The AI had made the necessary arrangements with the planetary government to okay their landing.

He'd also connected Alistair with the Terram, translating their guttural language for the Earthborn. The conversation hadn't been an easy one; he had to tell them the refugees would need to stay there longer. He let them know they wouldn't return for some time and had given the names of the refugees who’d take leadership positions until their return.

The only good news he had for them was that the Commonwealth and the Myrmidons were no longer over their planet. The enemies had left.

In the end, the Terram acquiesced, though they used very colorful language. They were good people, and Alistair understood he owed them a debt. When he could pay it, he would.

The ship was in its final descent, rushing through the planet's atmosphere. Jeeves was controlling the speed to avoid damage to the outer panels. They had no idea how many jumps they might have to make in this ship, and limiting the damage over time was important. Faitrin was on the lookout for other ships they might be able to purchase or acquire by less legal means, as long as they could transfer Jeeves into their new vessel.

Alistair had become a fan of the AI. It had a man's voice that spoke in a strange dialect, and over the five days, he made Jeeves tell him it was from England, before the Ascendant's rise. Such an accent no longer existed because of deliberate extermination by the Commonwealth. Getting rid of nationalities was important, the need for “One People. One Purpose” all-encompassing.

Alistair sat in his chair as Jeeves spoke. "You're going to feel a large change in speed very shortly. This is because we've finished the initial part of our descent and have to slow to land on the planet."

Faitrin was in the pilot's chair. She'd given Jeeves permission to update the crew, probably because she was tired of it. Alistair didn't care and didn't ask. He trusted her to make the right decisions.

"You okay up there, brothess?" Relm asked Faitrin.

"Would be doin' better if you’d let me concentrate on my job," she called to him.

Relm smiled and leaned his head back against the chair.

Just as Jeeves had said, the ship entered a hard slowdown phase. Alistair glanced at Faitrin as his body pressed against the restraints. She was pushing against hers too, though her eyes remained gray and her face was focused on whatever her mind saw.

The panels in front of them cleared, and Alistair turned to look at the planet.

"The gods themselves made this," Servia whispered from the back.

Alistair could think of no argument against what she said. This place made Earth and every other planet inside its Solar System look like apes or their direct descendants had built it, and they were only staring at a small portion of this massive planet.

From what Alistair could see, the world was one huge city. The buildings went on and on, seeming to have no end. He had known to expect this from his studies on the way, but seeing it was different.

The ship slowed further, and Alistair leaned back in his seat.

Jeeves spoke again. "I've arranged sleeping quarters and meals. I've told authorities the duration of our stay is one week and that I would let them know if we need to extend it. This planet, due to its size and obvious commerce, is fairly liberal about allowing people in and out as long as their credentials are in order, which I've made sure yours are."

"Very good, Jeeves," Alistair replied.

The dock was a landing pad. Faitrin guided the ship to it carefully for a gentle landing. What Alistair wanted was a shower and a bed, but he didn't know when those would be possible, despite Jeeves’ assurances of rooms being available. Alistair had a meeting first.

Rather, he hoped to get a meeting. Without it, much of what they wanted to do here would be hopeless.

Now that they were on the world, Jeeves’ voice came over the comm once again. "Our credentials have been taken care of. Once we exit the ship, androids will come and take it to a storage facility. I will alert Faitrin if something untoward happens to the ship. One thing you’ll notice is the increased gravity due to the planet’s size. In day to day interaction, you’ll feel it, though your suits should mitigate it. Does anyone have any questions?"

"I think we're good, Jeeves," Alistair said. The AI had given them a thorough overview of the planet, government structures, law enforcement, and most importantly, the underworld. It was a laissez-faire place as long as violence didn't break out. When that happened, the powers that be came down with an iron fist. Violence wasn't good for business.

Alistair turned his chair around and looked at his crew. Faitrin was on his right, Servia and Relm directly in front of him, and the AllMother in the back. Obs lay beside the chair, his eyes closed. The small ship had a toilet but no shower. The group had to smell worse than anyone on this planet, and Alistair reassessed the need to clean himself.

"Okay, AllMother, I'd like you to remain relatively quiet and unnoticed while we're here. That work for you?"

The woman gave him a soft smile. "As you wish."

Alistair didn't like giving her orders, but she allowed him little choice in the matter. The old woman refused to make any decisions. "Faitrin," he continued, "how far will your connection with Jeeves work? Are you able to connect with him anywhere on this planet?"

The pilot's eyes were clear since she had disharmonized from the ship. "We allowed ourselves to harmonize deeper than usual for this trip. I should be able to utilize it at relatively large distances, though neither of us is sure how far that is."

"Better than nothing," Alistair said. "Servia, I want you to remain with the AllMother. Relm and Faitrin, we're going to clean up as best we can, then go find the underworld connection Jeeves has set up. We'll keep our comms on us at all times, even when we sleep. Any questions?"

Relm and Servia shook their heads. Obs looked up and gave a small bark.

"You're with the AllMother, Obs. If Jeeves is to be believed, you won't be the only drathe on these streets, but I don't think they'll let you in where we're going. No chasing females or starting pissing contests with males while I'm away, understand?"

Obs sighed as if those actions were too beneath him to be worthy of a bark. The animal stood up and stretched his front legs, then his back. He was ready to go.

"All right. We wash up, then we go find this underworld god."

By any measurement, Jeeves had done an amazing job setting everything up. Exactly what he said would happen happened. Within an hour of deplaning, Alistair was clean and had a room to return to if he survived what came next. Jeeves had been able to use the AllMother's credits to purchase clothes for the group without telling them about it.

The damn thing had even made sure the clothes Alistair wore had a place for his Whip. The overcoat had a pocket perfectly tailored to fit his weapon so he could take it with him wherever he went as long as he wasn't patted down or scanned.

The group met outside their building. The street was busy, with people walking instead of using flying transportation. It was a whirlwind of movement, both next to and above them. Alistair received some looks from passersby, most likely due to his size and the red in his eyes, but for the most part, they were ignored.

No one said anything as they started walking. They'd discussed everything before coming outside, and now they were heading to meet the man who could introduce them to the nameless underworld boss. Even Jeeves hadn't been able to find his identity.

"You're sure he exists?" Alistair had asked.

"I am sure," Jeeves said. "His name is guarded. It's not a common practice on this planet, but this man is different."

Alistair certainly hoped everyone on the damned planet didn't hide their name.

He'd been briefed on what to expect during the first meeting. Jeeves had managed to set up the introduction using a large sum of credits, though it wasn't with the nameless one. This was with an underling, and it was up to Alistair to convince him of the necessity of meeting the person who could help them.

Their hotel was close to the restaurant where they would meet the first man. It didn't take them long to reach it. Faitrin walked on Alistair's right and Relm on his left. Each was wearing the common clothing of long overcoats since light snow was falling on the busy city. Snow often fell, which was lucky since it allowed for more layers and more weapons underneath.

The restaurant was upscale, something Luna might have picked but Alistair never would have. He always felt uncomfortable in these types of places, as if there were a secret code of behavior he hadn't been taught but everyone else in the restaurant knew about.

Allie, his wife's voice asked in his mind, are you here to order food or to try to get back to me?

"Let's go," he told the group with a little smirk on his face. He missed his wife horribly, and it was nice to hear her sarcasm. Regardless of what she’d said on that video, he held hope that his version of her was closer to the truth.

Faitrin lightly grabbed his wrist before he could pull the door open. "Let me do the talking until we sit down. I imagine my manners are going to be better than either of you two animals."

Relm shrugged. "Momma raised me with a StarBeam, not a silver spoon. Lead the way, brothess."

Alistair pulled the door open and let the other two enter first, then he followed. This planet didn't have a lot of mutants, but they weren't discriminated against like they were on Earth. Eating in restaurants was fine, as was visiting shops. The Ascendant didn't rule this far out, and if mutants brought commerce, this planet accepted them.

Even with that, the girl standing inside the door stared at Alistair for a second longer than everyone else. Faitrin was about to say something when the woman finally smiled at the pilot. "Sir Nevo is waiting for you. If you'll follow me, I'll be happy to take you to him."

Faitrin wasn't fazed. "Of course. Thank you."

Neither Alistair nor Relm knew what to expect, and they walked behind Faitrin with their eyes searching for danger. The patrons were eating, and most minded their own business. The clientele in here was wealthier than those Alistair had seen on the street. Every table had some sort of alcohol on it, and he thought he was looking at actual bottles of wine, not the cloned type.

None of these people had any hardness to them. If they tried to murder Alistair and his group, they'd be cut down like the soft rich folks they were. The danger would most likely come, but these people wouldn’t be part of it.

The woman led them into a private room, where double doors kept their business private from the outside world.

The hostess said nothing as they entered. She held the door open, and as soon as the three had passed inside, she left.

A man sat at the back of a circular table with a glass of dark liquor and a plate of food Alistair didn't recognize. It looked like cheese if cheese was slimy. He couldn't imagine putting it in his mouth.

"Please, sit." The man gestured at the three chairs in front of him. Jeeves hadn't said how many people would be at this meeting, saying no one had asked. This person knew a lot.

Faitrin took a step back and let Alistair move forward as their leader. He sat in the middle chair, and the other two took the seats at his sides.

The man in front of them was bald, his eyebrows fair, and his face stark. His eyes were set deep in his face, and his clothing covering everything but his neck, head, and hands. His skin was pale, almost shockingly so, as if stepping into the sunlight might set him on fire.

There was no alcohol nor food in front of their three seats, which said only one thing; this man was all about business.

"You paid a lot of credits to be here, but you don't get a lot of time. Tell me what it is you want." The man lifted the brown drink to his mouth and took a short sip.

"I need to meet with your boss," Alistair stated.

The man slowly lowered the glass back to the table as a smile crossed his lips. "Do you now? I'm not sure I've had anyone say that to me before because people on this planet realize how preposterous it is, what you said. Why don't you start by telling me why you need my boss?"

Alistair wished Luna was here. This type of back and forth was what she was trained in. Her parents had made sure she knew how to use words to get what she desired. Alistair had been trained very differently. He couldn't let Faitrin drive this either; his leadership had been established with this man, and to switch now would show weakness.

He remained calm. "I need to find someone on this planet. The population is too great for me to do it on my own. I need his resources, and I'm willing to pay whatever is necessary."

"Who do you want to find?" the man asked.

"A friend of mine. Of ours."

The man leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. His face showed only disapproval. "You come to this meeting wanting to see a man whose power is greater than anything you'll ever accumulate, even if you had ten lifetimes. You ask to see him in order to find a friend, giving me no other information, and you offer only credits? As if he doesn't have enough. You are a foolish man, and these people next to you are foolish for following you." He leaned forward again, shaking his head. "You will not see him, and I recommend you leave this restaurant now. Those weapons beneath your coats will do you no good here. There will be bloodshed only on your side, I assure you."

Relm moved to pull his beam from his coat, but Alistair's hand was quicker. He placed it on Relm's elbow and shook his head slightly. "We appreciate the meeting." His eyes remained on the stranger. "I'm sure you know how to contact us if you or your boss change your minds."

Alistair stood, and the others did as well. Relm's hand was still, but his face showed hatred toward the man who disrespected his leader so blatantly.

Alistair turned and walked to the door. A different woman was on the other side, and she pulled it open as he reached it, allowing him to exit. Within seconds, they found themselves back on the busy street. Alistair immediately used the comm to talk to Servia.

"Are you and the AllMother okay?"

"We're fine, Pro. How was the meeting?"

Alistair sighed as relief washed over him. He had the distinct feeling violence was coming for them on this planet and thought it might have arrived while they were in the restaurant. "I think the meeting went the only way it could have."

"What do you mean?" Servia asked.

"That was a prelim. There wasn't any way we were walking in there and getting permission to see a person who guards his privacy like this one does."

Relm, listening on his comm, asked, "What do we do?"

"We wait for him to come to us. If he doesn't, we're going to need to develop a plan B pretty damn quick."

Chapter Eleven

“Knowledge is all that matters.”

—The Nameless One

Once again, Alistair found himself impressed with Jeeves. The hotel rooms he'd rented for them were set up to allow each of them to sleep alone but also to protect one another if needed. The rooms connected, and security parameters allowed for the touch of a button to alert the others in the party that something was wrong. Also, there was no way to block the connections since doors didn't separate them, just a thin membrane that was easily breached.

On a planet of this size, with this much economic activity, there were hotels for every need, even protection.

Night had come on this world, and it apparently lasted thirty-six hours. The people of the planet usually slept seven to eight standard hours, then went about their business regardless of their star's light level.

Alistair lay on the bed with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Obs had curled up between his feet but was also awake, sensing his master's apprehension. Alistair's hands were at his sides, and his Whip rested beneath his right.

He knew they were still being watched. All of them. Perhaps this nameless one even watched him now in this bed, but the answer today hadn't been the truth. That was why the eyes still followed them.

Hours passed, and though sleep beckoned Alistair, he resisted its advances.

When the voice spoke, it was familiar. Not even Obs had heard someone enter, though he stood up immediately, the hair bristling on his spine. His master was calm, so he didn't bark.

"You asked to see me."

Alistair slowly sat up. He kept his hand on the Whip, though he made no sudden moves.

Darkness shrouded the area, but Alistair could make out a bald head and deep-set eyes in a chair across the room. It was the man who had been in the restaurant.

He seemed different. His demeanor was calmer.

"Didn't I already see you today?" Alistair asked.

Obs sat on his haunches, though his hair remained on end.

"Don't worry about what you saw today," the man said. "Worry about what you're seeing now. My associates and I share a certain resemblance, though I promise you we are not the same."

"Okay," Alistair said. "Obs, go to the floor."

The drathe hopped off the bed and stood next to it, not taking his eyes off the newcomer.

The man continued speaking, his voice the same as that of the person from the restaurant, though without the disdain. "You're the reason for the commotion in this part of the universe, am I right? You're the one that ancient civilization is chasing?"

Alistair was surprised. He'd never heard of the Commonwealth referred to as an ancient civilization. Despite this place's majesty, Alistair had no doubt the Commonwealth could lay waste to it if necessary. He didn't bring that up, only said, "It's possible."

The man shrouded in darkness chuckled. "You offered credits today, but a man in my position doesn't need credits. Knowledge is what runs my world, and that is what I trade in, young man. You are the one they call Alistair Kane, and the old woman in the room next to yours is known as the AllMother. For years I have been curious about her, as well as her brother, though my business has never crossed theirs."

A long pause ensued, and since Alistair wasn't quite sure what to say, he kept his mouth shut.

The man spoke again. "You're after one of the AllMother's direct subordinates, or one who was one of hers but is now yours. Best I can tell is you have picked up her mantle as your own, though that reason has been kept from me despite my best efforts. That is why I came here tonight—because there was only one thing I couldn't discover about you. That means you have knowledge I wish to purchase. Tell me, what made you join up with this woman? Why do you lead what she used to?"

Alistair didn't understand, or at least, he didn't think he was hearing clearly. "Hold on. You're saying if I tell you why I'm with her, you'll help me locate my friend? Is that correct?"

There was a slight nod from the other side of the room but nothing else.

"I don't believe you," Alistair said simply.

Another chuckle from the man in the dark. "One doesn't reach my position by lying, at least not to those you're going into business with. You may lie to authorities and the like, yes, but it’s wise to be truthful when it comes to exchanges."

What the hell did it matter? It was a simple thing to tell him and wouldn't hurt Alistair's cause. "My wife. The only chance I have of seeing her again is defeating the Commonwealth."

The man's face didn't betray his thoughts. He was quiet again for a bit and then gave a simple nod. "It’s a long shot."

Alistair shrugged. "All the other options available are no-shots."

The man stood up. "You use standard time, I imagine?"

"For the most part."

"In five standard hours, meet me at the restaurant you went to today. Bring the AllMother and the drathe. I'd like their company. The rest of your party should remain here. Our business doesn't involve them."

"Do you guarantee their safety?" Alistair asked.

When he stood, the man was tall. Not like Alistair, but he easily towered over most people on this planet. He waved the question away as if it were a fly buzzing around his head. "I'm a businessman. What good would it do to kill your compatriots while we meet? You paid what I asked, and now I will give you what you want."

Alistair was quiet as the man turned to the door. He studied him closely and felt confident it was the same man he'd seen in the restaurant. Except for the way he acted, the physicality was exactly the same.

He exited, leaving the Fallen Titan and the drathe alone. The drathe looked at his master, and Alistair shrugged. "I don't know any more than you do. You want to go to the meeting?"

Obs walked across the room to the corner and laid down. Alistair chuckled. The son-of-a-bitch was telling him he was on his own.

"You got a good sense of humor for a dog. Get some sleep. I think tomorrow might be a big day."

The AllMother was on his right, and Obs was on his left as they stood on the street outside the fancy restaurant. Alistair felt out of place, given that he was about to walk in with a drathe who came up past his hips.

For her part, the AllMother seemed not to have a care in the world. "I bet their food is delicious," she said, looking through the windows at the guests.

Alistair sighed. He knew she said it to push his buttons. The old woman had an unusual sense of humor. She and Obs would probably really enjoy each other's jokes.

He reached forward to open the door, but the first woman from yesterday opened it before he could touch the handle. "He's expecting you. Please follow me."

She didn't wait for Alistair to respond but walked deeper into the restaurant. Alistair had to move quickly to follow. Obs let the AllMother go before him, then followed with his nose low to the floor.

The group had gone right yesterday, but today they turned left. They passed through black drapes that didn't let eyes pry into this side of this building and found themselves in a narrow hallway. The woman didn't turn around but kept walking forward as if her only job were to go from point A to point B.

Finally, she stopped at the end of the hallway in front of a single door that had none of the poshness of the restaurant. It looked ancient.

The woman turned. "I can't go in. You must go alone." With that, she whisked back down the hall. Obs had to squeeze against the wall to let her through, and he was not pleased about it.

Alistair turned the handle and pulled the door open.

He stepped inside and then stopped, his mind trying to adjust to what he saw. The AllMother walked in on his right and Obs went to her right, sandwiching her between the two warriors.

Alistair's eyes narrowed. Endless replicas of the man they'd met yesterday stood and sat in this room, which appeared to stretch on for much longer than possible, given the building’s layout.

The bodies were motionless, androids or robots of some kind. Whatever he'd sat with in the restaurant hadn't been a real person but one of these.

Slowly, Alistair walked forward, feeling more creeped out by the second. The androids were in different positions, some looking angry, others shocked. Some even had their faces contorted as if they were sobbing.

"I don't know what we've gotten ourselves into," he said. "AllMother, do you?"

She smiled slightly. "I think these dolls are terrific."

He shook his head and walked deeper into the massive room. After another thirty yards or so, he saw an office on his left. The door was open, and the living model for all the androids sat behind a relatively small wooden desk.

The man stood, and Alistair saw that the android from yesterday had been a version of him, but not one that adequately captured him. "Hi. Welcome." He stepped around his desk and met them at the door.

The man looked at the AllMother first. "For many years, I've been wanting to meet you. I'm glad I finally get the chance, Alexandria."

Alistair turned his head to the AllMother, shocked. He'd never heard her name. He had figured she had one but thought that no one alive knew it any longer. The AllMother's face grew harder. "I haven't been called that in a long time. How do you know that name?"

"My business is knowing things. Do you know who I am?"

The AllMother shook her head. "No, I don't, but if I wanted to, I could find out."

The bald man smiled. "The rumors are true, then. You do have abilities that men would kill for. There is no need to go inside my head for information. Who I am doesn't concern you; what I know about your friend does."

Alistair raised his palm. "Hold on. I need to step back a second and ask what is going on behind me. There are, like, a million replicas of you outside, and I imagine each would pass as one of your aides if it was activated. I need to know what I'm looking at before we talk any further."

The man gave a small smile and beckoned them into his office. "Come. Sit."

Alistair led the way. There were two chairs to the right of the desk and a spot for Obs on the left side. The drathe scanned the room quickly, then laid on the floor. Alistair understood it was a sign of trust. The drathe couldn't speak, so he was doing what he could to show his master his thoughts.

It set Alistair a little more at ease. The AllMother took the far right seat, and he took the other. The nameless man closed the door, then sat behind the desk. He motioned behind them with his hand. "No one else on this planet has seen what you did and lived more than minutes afterward." He raised his hand in a stop gesture. "Do not worry, my word is good. You’re in no danger from me, and I don’t fear showing you these versions of me. The chances of you making it off this planet are so small, I put them at zero. Again, not at my hand, but at the will of the people you're trying to find. I figured to have someone like the AllMother sit in my office before she died was worth the slight chance that you three might live. If you do and decide to speak of what you saw here, I will have you killed."

Alistair ignored the other talk, focusing on a single fact. "I still don't know what I’m seeing."

"They're android versions of me, each programmed with a different personality. It's taken a long time, but accumulating an army like this allows me freedom from my enemies and any law enforcement agencies that want to find me."

Alistair was still stunned. He hadn't known this technology existed or was even possible. "It doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't have to. Know that it works for me, and if you breathe a word of it, Fallen Titan, you will never see your wife again—not that I think you will anyway. I agreed to see you after I learned who was seeking a meeting. You're a serious man, and those are rare. I try to treat serious men with the respect they deserve." He nodded at the AllMother. "Plus, the chance to meet a legend like her should not be passed up."

He paused for a moment and placed his hands behind his head. "If you find this friend of yours, beat back the legions preparing to kill you, and somehow find your way at the Commonwealth's door, then defeat that ancient despot, what do you plan to do? Anyone who can do that is not a man but a god. Not a warlord but a true titan from the Greek myths. Will you simply give power back to the people, or will you expand the Commonwealth's reach to here? Will my empire need to worry about a new form of government?"

The question was almost as shocking as what Alistair had seen outside. He hadn't even considered the answer. His purpose in overthrowing this government had been simple: to see his wife. After that? He didn't care.

The AllMother spoke, though, and she didn't sound like a doddering old woman when she did. "When we defeat the Commonwealth, you'll have nothing to worry about from anyone here, nor from those who will come after us."

The nameless man turned his gaze on her. "Ah, I see more clearly now. This man here is your tool, and you’re using him to do something you haven't been able to do without him. You're the ideology behind it all. He doesn't have any ideology outside of seeing his wife again. That right?"

"Close," Alistair said, not liking the tone or the accusations, even if they were true. "If she says you need not worry, then you don't. Plus, we won't be living long anyway, right?"

The nameless man smiled. "Yes, that's right. From everything I know, you've done a fantastic job surviving so far, but if you want my advice, leave your friend to his fate and fight this empire from some other angle. My home here is a glorious one, a wealthy one, but wherever great wealth is amassed, danger is sure to follow. You've already got eyes other than my own on you."

Alistair shook his head. "Fine. Tell us what we want to know. Where is our friend? How do we find him?"

The nameless man dropped his hands and placed them on the desk. "You won't take my advice and leave?"

Alistair shook his head.

He sighed. "I can't give you much help because doing that would endanger my interests. Whether or not you live, I’ll remain here. Your friend's current benefactors have paid a great deal of money to place eyes on you and your group. You're being watched, not only by my organization but by another. A competitor, you might say, but they operate by different rules than I do. To get to your friend, you'll have to survive their attacks. A bounty has been put on your head, Sir Kane."

He flicked his finger at the door behind them.

"The man you want is named Manius. Your friend is under his control. Manius is already looking at you, but if there's one thing our government won't put up with, it's blood in the streets, so he's biding his time until he can kill you without anyone taking too much notice. When people are murdered behind closed doors, it's mostly given a blind eye."

Finally, useful information. This man loved to hear his own voice, though since it appeared he only spoke to android versions of himself, it might have been a while since he’d had a conversation. "Where do I find him?"

"You needn't find him. He'll come to you soon. The information you want is this: don't kill all his men when they come. You'll want one of them to bring you to Manius."

"We'll find our friend there?" Alistair asked.

"Yes," the nameless man said. "You’ll find death also." He stood up, signaling that their time was up. "It was nice to meet you. All of you. Sir Kane, you do strike me as a serious man. I wish your quest wasn't so foolhardy. Knowledge is what matters in this world. That is a reason to kill, to conquer. Love? It only leads to ruin. Heed my words, and perhaps you will make something of yourself, even after your disgrace."

Again, Alistair didn't like the way he spoke, but the man had done as he promised. They knew what came next, and he understood they couldn't kill all of those coming. One needed to live. Alistair stood, and the other two did the same. "I hope that when I get my wife back, you'll hear about it way out here and understand you were wrong."

"Me too," the nameless one said, "but I doubt it."

Alistair, Obs, and the AllMother left the way they had come and headed back toward the busy street. The woman didn't lead them out this time or even look at them as they passed her station. It was as if they didn't exist.

Alistair walked outside into the pitch-black night, with people moving all around him. Air transports flew above, landing at different levels of the buildings that nearly scraped the lower levels of the atmosphere. "This is a city that doesn't sleep," he said.

The AllMother gave her sly smile but said nothing.

They walked toward the hotel, Obs sticking close to the AllMother.

"He was an arrogant bastard," Alistair said to no one in particular, thinking about what the man had said.

The AllMother gave a little shrug. "He's an android. Love doesn't exist for him. Love is knowledge."

Alistair looked at her with wide eyes. "Wait, that man we talked to wasn't a man?"

She shook her head without looking at him. "Nope. He was another one of those creations we saw outside. Maybe there is a real nameless one somewhere, a human nameless one, but I doubt it. I think a very long time ago, that creature got a bit more information than his creator and took his place."

The Written History of the Great Insurrection

My imprisonment taught me certain things, and I think it is valuable to put that information in here. This isn't necessarily about the Insurrection, but about people.

My captors brutalized me, and I use the plural for a simple reason. Only one tortured me, but the other two let it happen. They didn't stop it, not until the severity grew too bad for even them to countenance.

All this time later, it makes me wonder who is actually good and what the word even means. I was changed by my torture, and not in a way that tends toward the universe's arc of good.

The people who kept me captive while Pro searched for me? I wouldn't consider any of them good, either. However, only one was evil. I don't know what the others were, Ares and Veena. They considered themselves honorable and looked down on Hel for her sadistic acts, yet the acts continued.

Mankind is capable of feats that make the heart sore and actions that make the soul want to quit existing.

You're going to see some of those acts in the next few chapters I write because you must understand that both sides of this Insurrection were capable of almost unfathomable evil. What happened to me, I did unto others.

In some ways, what happened to me allowed our Insurrection to rise as high as it did because, without my becoming cruel, we wouldn't have had what it took to kill as many as we did.

Even now, I don't know if I'm sorry for what I've done because of what was done to me.

Chapter Twelve

“Hel’s value to the Commonwealth is in her uncommon ability to mete out pain that most people didn’t know existed.”

—Alexander de Finita, Current Imperial Ascendant

Thoreaux wanted death. When he was alone, he prayed to the gods for it. The idea of prayer was primitive, something from mankind's earliest days. The gods, wherever they existed, did not interfere with the universe, if they even knew about it any longer. Yet in his desperate pain, Thoreaux forgot the logic of his choices, and he prayed to die.

His ear was missing, and only a basic salve rested on it. Those holding him hadn't even bothered covering it with a patch to keep insects and dirt from getting stuck in the blood and salve. His nose was crooked across his face, and breathing out of it was impossible. One eye was swollen shut, and the other only barely open.

He lay in a room of complete darkness; the only comfort they'd given him was a mattress to sleep on. He was curled up on it, praying for death and hoping no one came into his room.

Someone knocked on the door, though, and it was a cruel joke—as if there was any privacy for Thoreaux. He tried not to whimper as the door opened because he knew who it was. Anyone else would have simply walked in, but Hel liked her mind games almost as much as her physical ones.

Light swept partway across the room as the woman walked in. Thoreaux had no idea how long ago they'd arrived, only that the woman's face appeared to have been fixed. Even that was hard to say for certain, given his lack of vision.

"Time to wake up, sweetheart," she said, the smile on her face beaming through her voice.

"No more," Thoreaux said. "Please, no more."

"Oh, there's always more. There will be more until you are no more, but by then, I should have your fearless leader." He heard her approach his mattress and tried to push himself back against the wall to get away from her, but it was futile. She grabbed him by his greasy hair and dragged him off the mattress and out the door. The light hurt his eyes, and he tried to shield himself from it, but Hel tossed him out of the room.

He hit the cement floor face-first, and his injured ear exploded with new pain. It felt like a bomb had gone off on the side of his head and all he could do was curl into a ball. He shut his eyes and felt his head growing woozy. The pain was about to take him under.

He felt something stab his neck, and seconds later, he roared back to life. He knew what’d been done; Hel had jabbed him with a stimpack. She wasn't going to let him escape into unconsciousness.

"Get up against the wall, Thoreaux," she demanded. "Stop sniveling like a child."

He knew what she wanted because she'd made him do this before. He obeyed even as he protested, begging for her to stop. He pushed himself up against the wall, seated with his legs splayed out in front of him. He kept his hand over his ear, careful not to touch it, and he averted his eyes.

She squatted in front of him, her tiny knife in her right hand. "Have I told you why I'm doing this, Thoreaux? Why I come here every morning instead of eating breakfast?"

"Please," he said. "I'll tell you anything. I'll do anything you want. Just no more." He had already told her everything. He'd told her truths and untruths, anything that might make the pain stop. Nothing did, though. She was insatiable in her lust to hurt.

"I do it partly because I like it, but that's only part of it. When your hero returns, I want him to see you. I'll make him stare at you before I start in on him because he's the one who caused this pain. Not me. Not even you. It was him." She grinned broadly. "Now, today, I thought we might start with your toes. What do you think about that?"

Tears welled in Thoreaux's eyes and fell onto his cheeks. "I'll tell you about his wife. I'll tell you about the AllMother. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Her smile widened. "The only thing I want to know is which toe you'd like me to flay first."

Thoreaux was sobbing now, snot running out of his nose and over his bruised and battered lips. "Anything. I'll give you anything."

He never told her which toe to start with, so Hel picked the smallest one on the left foot, and by the end of the session, she'd made her way to his biggest one.

She used fire to staunch the bleeding.

Veena had seen enough, both of this planet and Hel's plans.

She felt dirty, and not in a physical sense. She felt like her honor had been thrown in the mud, and she didn't think she'd ever be able to clean it off. Hel was back in her little torture chamber, using the captive as a personal vengeance doll. It was as if she thought she could somehow hurt him enough to hurt the man who'd destroyed her face.

They'd been here for a week, and Veena was finished. Hel had made the contacts. Hel had figured out the plan. Veena went along with it all because Ares appeared to be in a near-coma. It was like he didn't care what happened. He didn't argue with Hel. He didn't tell her to stop the massacre she was performing in the back of their hideout.

Veena went to his room, the captive's screams softer as she moved away from the torture chamber. It made her skin crawl to hear them. She couldn't be a part of something like that any longer. She knocked on Ares' door.

"Come in," the Titan answered from inside.

Veena pushed the door open and stepped in, closing it behind her.

Ares lay on his cot, his Whip resting beneath his right hand. Veena could still hear the screams, though they were muffled.

"How can you lay in here and listen to that?" she asked.

The Titan glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

"Every morning for the past week, we've heard her doing this. You haven't said a word, Ares. Not to me, not to her, not to anyone."

He turned his eyes back to the ceiling. "What am I supposed to say? You want me to go in there and tell her to stop?"

"I think we need to take control of this situation. I think we've both shirked our duties as Primuses by allowing any of this to take place, including fleeing the ship." She took a step closer to his bed, anger rising in her. "None of this is going to get us back to Earth. None of this is helping our mission of capturing Kane."

Ares sighed as if he were exhausted. His right hand moved up and down his crimson Whip’s hilt. "Do you know my father? Have you heard of him?"

"What's that have to do with any of this?" Veena asked.

"Answer the godsdamn question. Do you know who he is?"

Veena put her hands on her hips. "I’m aware of your lineage."

"Growing up, through my formative years really, he taught me things. They were hard lessons. Things that made me wonder if he loved me or if I was a tool he was molding. As a man, lying here in this shithole, listening to someone scream in a back room, I know the truth. My father loved me deeply, and he was trying to prepare me for the life that he knew would come."

Ares suddenly swung his legs off the bed and sat up. Except for Kane, Veena didn't think she'd ever seen someone move so smoothly.

He looked at her, his Whip still inactive in his right hand. "One thing he taught me was when you aren't in a dominant position, rushing forward can be fatal. It's often better to let your opponents think they're in charge or let them be in charge if that's what it takes. Eventually, they'll make a mistake, and if you're ready and in position, you can gain the upper hand. So far, Hel hasn't allowed me to gain the upper hand. The contacts she made with the underworld here are good for us. Whether or not we agree with what she's doing to that man, capturing Alistair is essential to getting back to the Commonwealth. I don't want to consider right now if we'll hold our posts. It's too far in the future. All I want to do is get Kane, kill him, and bring his head back to the Ascendant. I'll deal with Hel when the moment presents itself because I know for sure she isn't planning on letting us make it back."

Veena understood or thought she did. She wanted to know something, though. "Does it bother you, what's happening back there, Ares? That we're listening to a man having his skin cut off his body?"

Much slower this time, Ares turned and lay back on his bed. "It's inconsequential, Veena. He's a Subversive. Either way, his life is over. I'm focused on Alistair and finding my way back to the Commonwealth. I suggest you do the same. The attack will happen in a few hours. Whether they kill him or we do, it's the only way to stop this. Last time, we made the mistake of thinking we could capture him. By the end of this planet’s night, he'll be done, and most likely Hel will be too."

He was staring at the ceiling, and Veena was wondering at her naiveté. She had spent her whole life serving the Commonwealth. She had no husband or wife, no kids, nothing. She'd known this type of work was competitive. Where life and death hang in the balance, things must be competitive and sometimes ruthless.

But this wasn’t what she'd signed up for. This wasn’t why she'd sacrificed any semblance of a personal life. Ares wasn't what she thought he’d be when she first met him, an arrogant child with a godlike physical nature. He was more and yet somehow less. An arrogant child might be selfish, but not this calculating.

She turned to leave the small room and placed her hand on the doorknob, then paused as a thought hit her.

This is dangerously close to things Kane might have felt, Veena. Feelings that led to him releasing Subversives.

"You okay?" Ares asked from his bed.

"Yeah. Ready for this to be finished," Veena said, though she wasn't sure if she was okay.

The torture ended, and Thoreaux was placed back in his room.

Darkness lived around him. Rats scurried to and fro, their nails click-clacking on the stone floor.

None of that existed for Thoreaux, though. When they opened the door to toss in a bowl of slop, he didn't hear it open or close. They didn't even bother locking the door behind them; they were sure he wouldn’t escape.

He didn't, either.

Thoreaux lived in pain that shouldn't exist. The gods themselves should have said that pain of this magnitude was not allowed. His foot trembled, and he was unable to stop it. Where flesh had been was now seared black. He'd watched that psychopath slowly peel back his skin with the sharpest knife he'd ever seen.

The trembling traveled up his legs, all the way to his arms. His lips began to quiver, and he rolled over on his side. Tears leaked out of his eyes, and once again, Thoreaux prayed for death. He whimpered in the silence of his room, his voice unheard.

Chapter Thirteen

“We create the greatest warriors in the universe, and we sell them at a premium to people who cannot afford to lose.”

—The Orion Corporation

The price had been low for the information they’d received, but Alistair understood it wouldn’t do much to help them survive the coming attack. They didn’t switch their rooms. Alistair figured they were being watched, and changing where they slept might alert their followers. He needed these people to attack because without that, finding Thoreaux would be even harder.

He and his remaining council talked it through. The attackers would know about Alistair's modifications. They would know about the group’s weapons, including his Whip. Perhaps the only thing they wouldn't know was the AllMother's capacity, though no one wanted to test her abilities. It was strange, having someone with almost limitless mental powers at their disposal but knowing that to use her once might end her life.

It wasn't worth it.

They weren't sure which room they'd attack first or when they’d strike. Alistair thought the enemy would value killing over capture. He believed the Commonwealth had given up on capturing him. Their record wasn't great.

With darkness still outside their hotel, the group went to their rooms. Each slept with their weapon of choice by their side. Relm held a MechPulse across his chest. Servia kept a StarBeam in her right hand and a knife in her left in case the fighting was close. Faitrin had surprised Alistair when given the choice of weapons. She'd pulled out two daggers, each about a half-meter in length.

"They aren't great for dreadnought fighting, but in hotel rooms?" she'd said. "There isn't anything much better if living is your ultimate goal."

Alistair spent an hour or so walking around the hotel. He wanted to make sure he understood the layout. The building was over a thousand meters tall, and everyone in it was dependent on an elevator to some degree. If the coming force somehow managed to shut them down, there would be problems with escape.

You won’t be escaping, Alistair told himself. You'll be capturing one of them, or you'll die trying.

The one important thing he’d noticed while walking the premises was the empty floors above and below his; all guests and businesses were gone. He didn't know if that had been the case before, only that no one was around them now.

He went back to Faitrin and had her check in with Jeeves.

"It said there's no record of any construction or anything else going on. It also said the business four floors above ours is still registered as the renter."

Alistair didn't need to talk about it with his council. He knew what it meant because he'd done it countless times as a Titan. Usually, they cleared the entire building, but this one was too big for that. Someone had been paid off, probably multiple someones from businesses to government, even law enforcement. The android had said outright violence was about the only thing you couldn't do on this planet, so the powers that be were making sure what happened tonight would go unnoticed by everyone except the participants.

If it's a war they want, he thought, then it's a war I'll give them.

Servia and the AllMother were sharing a room, and Obs lay on the floor of Alistair's quarters. Relm and Faitrin remained alone.

No one slept.

Alistair lay on his back like he had the night before. It was hard to judge the time since darkness was constantly around them. He kept his eyes closed and focused on listening.

Obs was a clever beast. He lay on the floor snoring, though there was no way he was asleep.

When they came, they came hard.

Gas canisters shot through the windows of all four rooms at the same time. Had anyone been in front of the windows, the canisters would have put a hole through them.

"HOODS UP!" Alistair screamed as he leaped off the bed. His hood enveloped his head as his Whip unfurled. "OBS, STAY LOW!" The gas would float upward; that would have to be enough.

Alistair backed into the far corner of the room, Obs following at his heels. He didn't growl, and Alistair made no noise, letting Prometheus step forward. The plan was simple: let the gas either kill or disable, then sweep in and pick up the pieces. He was ready to give them a surprise when they arrived.

The doors blew off their hinges, flying into all four rooms simultaneously. Laser beams poured in seconds after and sliced through the rooms from one side to the other while gas rose into the air. Prometheus dropped to the floor, avoiding a laser that would have cut him in half. He could only hope those in the other rooms were as lucky, but there wasn't time to help them.

They still hadn't met their would-be killers.

The lasers continued cutting and burning through the room. Obs hugged the ground, his teeth bared but not making a sound. He understood the need to play dead.

The first man stepped into the room and scanned to his right, holding a weapon Alistair had never seen before—a rifle of some sort.

Prometheus somersaulted forward, wary of more lasers cutting through the room. His Whip flashed out as the man turned to the left side of the room and removed his attacker’s legs from his torso. A scream rang through the hotel room, then Pro heard blasts from the other rooms. He kept rolling until he'd cleared the doorway, picking up the rifle with his left hand as he passed it.

The man was bleeding out on the floor. Pro flashed a look at Obs, and the animal stood and moved next to the door. Prometheus turned his attention to the window.

Two men swung in one after the other, the same rifles in their hands. They didn't need to scan since their heads-up-displays would clearly show Alistair on a knee in front of them.

The killers fired, and Prometheus nearly died as he stared at the projectiles.

Neon-green nets exploded from the ends of the weapons, spread about a meter in all directions, and paused in mid-air. The pause was only fractions of a second, and the scan they launched was all-encompassing.

The nets rushed forward, their neon glow lighting the room. The left net went after Pro, and the one on the right centered on Obs.

Prometheus reacted in time and formed his Whip into a sword-like weapon. He slashed, not knowing what it would do, hoping the expanding net wouldn't kill him.

His Whip cut through it, breaking its momentum and sending the resulting pieces flopping to the ground. Obs screamed as the net fell on him. His hair was aflame, and he snarled as he bit the burning wires trapping him.

Another net was already flying at Prometheus. He spun, his Whip three strands now, and cut the net into multiple pieces. He rushed the soldiers, hearing more killers coming in behind him. His body did its magic, cutting the two assassins to the floor in moments. His head whipped toward Obs, but the drathe was free from the net, his hair burning, and his flesh singed. He was leaping on the first attacker to have entered.

Alistair turned all the way around, barely batting away another one of those nets, and fired his appropriated rifle with his left arm. The net exploded and zeroed in on the second attacker. It landed on him, burning through his gear and into his flesh. The man dropped to the ground screaming, trying to use a laser knife to cut through the net.

Pulses, beams, and screams could be heard from the other rooms. Prometheus knew he had to get there and fast. He moved to the downed soldier and dragged his Whip across the man's head, separating it from his body.

Obs looked up from the man beneath him. Blood covered his jaws, and madness filled the creature's face.

"GO!" he shouted at the drathe.

Obs understood the others needed help and bounded through the membrane separating their room from the next.

Pro was seconds behind the giant animal, entering Servia and the AllMother's room. Servia was badly burned. Two soldiers lay dead, and two more had her cornered. Her weapon was on the floor somewhere, and her SkinSuit revealed bleeding flesh.

The man on the left raised his rifle slowly like he was going to enjoy killing Servia.

The second killer went down under Obs’ tremendous weight, causing the first to forget his objective.

Pro launched his Whip through the air. It flew true and plunged through the man's back, coming out his chest. Blood exploded from his mouth, and he wobbled for a second like a drunk trying to figure out which way was home.

He collapsed to the floor. Obs had taken out the throat of his opponent and was bounding to the next room. Pro ripped his Whip from the man’s dying body and looked at Servia. "You good?"

She nodded.

Prometheus didn't wait.

He kept moving to the third room.

Relm was on his back with a creature that looked more like a giant than a man atop him. There appeared to be no one else. Obs was on the assailant’s back, ripping at him with his teeth but causing no harm. The huge man had a laser knife and was forcing it to Relm's neck with his right arm, his left holding him up.

Prometheus darted forward, his Whip moving for the easy kill.

The giant flung his left arm up as Prometheus brought the weapon down and rolled, sending Obs flying and catching Pro by his shirt. He flung him against the wall as if he weighed little more than a pillow.

Prometheus hit the wall hard, and the wind was knocked out of him. He slid to his ass, his hand barely hanging onto his Whip.

The giant rolled quickly to his feet and stared at Alistair. "He's in here." His voice was deep, a bass drum that moved through all the rooms.

A second giant came from the final room, blood covering his hands and opaque face shield.

Prometheus saw no sign of Faitrin.

He struggled to his feet, noticing for the first time the broken brick and dust on his boots from where he'd hit the wall.

Relm was on his feet too, breathing extremely hard. "I had him right where I fuckin' wanted him, broth. You had to ruin it all."

"Certainly looked like it." He couldn't consider Faitrin right now. Obs was hunched on the other side of the room, waiting for his command. The animal was smart enough to know his teeth weren't doing much. The second giant walked into the room, his laser knife stretching to dagger length.

The creatures were even bigger than the Myrmidons. They had to be modified, though he couldn't tell because of the dark face shields.

"FAITRIN!" Relm shouted, terror in his voice as he realized the woman was missing.

Servia walked in from the opposite direction.

"FAITRIN!" Relm screamed again.

"Calm," Pro instructed. The two giants were assuming strategic positions. They knew this was the person they'd come for.

Relm's MechPulse had been broken in half, and the pieces were on the floor. He wasn't screaming anymore, just ripped a StarBeam from his belt. He held it up with both hands and fired.

The laser ricocheted off a transparent field that lit up for a second when the beam hit it, sending electrical sparks across the shield. The laser hit the wall and burned through to be lost on the other side.

"Well, that certainly changes things," Relm said, lowering the weapon before he took off his own head.

"You didn't hit 'em with your pulse when they came through?"

"Not sure if you noticed," Relm responded, "but they're sorta fuckin' fast."

The giant on the left moved then, his speed almost a match for Prometheus'. He didn't know if his Whip would work, only that the man’s dagger was about to slice his body open. Prometheus swatted at the giant's hand with his arm, and it felt as if he'd hit a metal beam.

The dagger caught Prometheus on the side and burned into his flesh. He hissed and barely dodged as the giant's other dagger came for his head.

He ducked, simultaneously spinning and letting his whip spray out. The giant easily jumped over the strands and stabbed again, this time cutting the back of Pro's left shoulder.

The second giant was coming in now too. Relm pulled a laser knife from his waistline and darted forward, but the beast threw a hand in his direction. Relm hit the ground and slid until he ran into Servia, who still stood holding a useless StarBeam.

Prometheus backed up quickly, putting space between him and the creatures.

"You are the one to fear?" The giant on the right laughed.

"You are puny. Human and nothing more," the one on the right agreed. Their language was stilted, but Prometheus could understand it.

Was that what they thought of him? A puny human? He didn't know what these beasts looked like under their face shields, but he'd let them see who he was. His hood retracted into the neck and he straightened, rising to his full height. Blood dripped from his shoulder and side. He lifted his Whip and held the hilt with both hands, the strands twirling in front of him.

Obs was circling behind the two giants, not sure when to make his move.

"I am Alistair Kane, Prometheus, bringer of fire. I serve the AllMother, and my quest leads through the two of you." He reached down and wiped the blood from his side, then spread it beneath both eyes. "I bleed now so that I will not later."

He closed his eyes and felt the giants’ movements, the air patterns giving them away. The first one sliced from the right, and Pro moved his neck back just in time. The second went for his gut, and he broke from both forms. There was no name for what came next, nothing his teacher could tell him, nor anyone else across the galaxy.

Relm's jaw dropped, as did Servia's, neither of them able to believe what they were witnessing.

The giants came at him with unbelievable speed, and Alistair used his left hand to slap them away while his right danced with their daggers. He feinted forward, then dodged back, his eyes open but his body acting as if it knew what was coming. He was looking at the giant on his left when he stabbed through the one on the right. His Whip, combined with Pro's strength, smashed through the invisible shield and into the giant's neck. Keeping it lodged there, Prometheus spun around the man, cutting his head off and ending up on the other side. He launched his foot forward and connected with the second beast's chest.

The giant flew across the room and hit the back wall.

Prometheus rushed forward, Whip in front of him, and stabbed the man through the right shoulder, pinning him to the wall. He didn't look away but said, "Relm, check on Faitrin.”

Relm snapped out of his awe and rushed to the other room.

Pro held the Whip in place. The man wasn't struggling or making a sound.

"She's alive!" Relm called. "She's hurt bad, Pro! We gotta get her help."

"I can help." The words weren't strained, nor did they show any pain though they came from a man with a triple laser through his shoulder. His voice was deep, as if the monster spoke from inside a well.

Prometheus gritted his teeth. "How?"

With his right hand, the giant slowly removed his helmet. The face beneath it was different than anything Prometheus had seen. It looked like something created from a mountain cliff. It wasn’t the oval shape of a human face, but a squarish thing. The hair on the creature's head was long, falling to his armor. He looked humanoid but not Earthborn or like anything from the Solar System.

"What are you?" Prometheus asked.

"There isn't time. I can help her, but I must go now," the giant responded. He, it—whatever the thing was—was injured. Why this creature would help the people he'd come to kill, Prometheus didn't know.

"RELM!" he shouted. "You hear him?"

"She needs help, Pro! Bad!"

Prometheus glared at the block-headed creature. "Move an inch in the wrong direction, and you'll be like your partner there on the floor. Got it?"

"I understand."

Pro pulled the Whip out, and the giant in front of him didn't even grimace. The Fallen Titan stepped back to give the beast some room. Obs was growling where he stood next to Servia.

Prometheus followed him into the other room. Relm moved out of the way but remained next to Faitrin, hovering around her head. Pro could see her breathing, shallow as it was, and blood was leaking from her mouth. There was a large wound in her stomach, a gaping hole where it looked like one of the giants had worked their laser knife in.

There wouldn’t be any saving the pilot, not without a medbay in the room, and even then, it would be iffy. Pro's Whip hung from his hand, ready to decapitate this creature if needed, but he couldn't take his eyes off Faitrin. She was dying.

Servia, the AllMother, and Obs walked in.

Obs made his way to Faitrin and laid next to her. He rested his head on her hand, his eyes distrustful on the giant who knelt on the other side.

The giant removed the armor on his right hand, revealing a fist that looked like a boulder. Pro stepped behind the man so he could kill him if necessary. The giant seemed not to notice but stretched that huge hand over Faitrin's stomach. She looked tiny in comparison, like a doll.

The giant's hand hovered over her stomach, blocking anyone from seeing what was happening. He closed his eyes, and a grimace appeared on his face. A sound filled the room, very low at first, then louder.

"What are you doing?" Prometheus asked. He shoved the Whip forward, the three strands coiling around the man's neck without touching him.

The giant did nothing, only knelt with that pained grimace on his face and his hand hovering over Faitrin's stomach.

Long moments passed, then the giant closed his hand into a fist, his knuckles turning white as he squeezed it shut.

Prometheus stared at where the wound had been. Tiny insects walked across her, creatures the size of ants, except Pro knew the things weren't organic. They were robotic, and they were inside the wound as well.

"What did you do?" he whispered.

"They will heal her," the giant said in his stilted language. "That is their job. To heal."

Alistair uncoiled the Whip from his neck. Relm's ear was at Faitrin's face. "It sounds like she’s breathing better."

"She will be okay," the giant assured them. Slowly so as not to be a threat, the giant turned. He was still on his knees, now facing Alistair. "I serve you now, master."

Alistair took a step back. The giant's hand was still clenched in a fist, and he covered it with his other armored hand. There was no threat coming from the man; whatever he was, he was fully at Pro's mercy. He bowed his head, his long hair falling over his massive ears. "You may kill me if you prefer. I did this to your other servant."

The Prometheus persona slowly slid to the back of his mind, allowing Alistair to take over. He flashed his eyes at Relm, who could see more of Faitrin's body than he could. "What's it looking like?"

"Whatever those things are, they're working, broth. They're patching her godsdamn flesh right in front of my eyes."

Without looking up, the giant said, "Will you let me serve, or will you have my life?"

"Who are you?" Alistair asked.

"Those who serve have no name," the giant responded. He still stared at the floor.

Alistair didn’t understand, but from what he could see, the giant was sincere. Still, he'd been sent here to murder everyone in these rooms. Alistair examined him: the blocky, brick-like head, the body that was even bigger than his own. "What are you?"

"I am one who serves, master."

Alistair stepped to the side of the giant so he could see Faitrin. Her eyes fluttered open as he did, and the wound on her stomach appeared to be almost closed. Alistair couldn't know for sure what was going on. He didn't know what was happening other than a giant pledging fealty and Faitrin now looking at him.

"I think they got their rooms mixed up," the pilot whispered with a slight smile.

Alistair looked at the giant. "Why aren’t you still trying to kill me?"

"I serve strength," the creature answered in that deep voice. "You are the strongest human I have met, so now I serve you."

Alistair's eyes narrowed. "If you find someone stronger than me?"

"I will serve them if they will have me."

"The other one in there that I killed? Who was he?"

The creature was silent for a few moments, his face full of confusion. "I do not understand."

"Was he your brother? A family member?"

Again, a confused look. "I do not understand, master."

Alistair looked across the room at the AllMother. "You got any idea what this is about?"

She shook her head. "I've never seen anything like him."

Alistair shook his head, exasperated. "Stand up," he told the giant.

The creature did as he was told, showing no signs of aggression. "Go sit in the furthest room in this row. Wait for me there."

"Yes, master," the huge creature said. He kept his eyes down and walked through the doorway, those standing around it having to move to the side.

Alistair waited until the thing was two rooms over and couldn't possibly hear them. "Do I fucking kill it or what?"

Relm was holding Faitrin's head in his lap. "Kill it or I will, Pro. Whatever it is, it's deadly, and it's lying."

Servia nodded. "Agreed. You’ve got to kill it. Right now, it could be relaying where we are to someone. You were naïve when it came to Hel. Don't be naïve about this, Pro."

Alistair looked at Obs. The drathe padded over to his side and sat down, then licked Alistair's hand and then laid on the floor, showing no signs that he was scared of the giant. With raised eyebrows, Alistair turned his eyes on the AllMother. "You going to tell me it's my choice?"

She nodded, smiling.

He dropped to his knees and looked at Faitrin. "How do you feel?"

"A little bit better than if I'd been stabbed in the stomach," she answered.

He looked her up and down. Her wound was nearly healed, and the little robotic insects had died once their job was finished. Some remained on her stomach, still working on the wound, but most had fallen to the ground and were no longer moving.

Alistair stood and marched through the hotel rooms. He found the giant standing in the very last room. His head was up, and he was looking at Alistair.

"Get on your knees."

The creature did as he was told without a word of protest. The Fallen Titan had retracted his Whip into the hilt, but he unleashed it once again, turning it into the sword-like shape. He put it at the creature's neck, the laser burning flesh. The giant was staring up at him and once again showed no sign of pain.

"You'll let me kill you right now?" Alistair asked. He needed someone to bring him to that Manius character, but this monster? Maybe they were right. Maybe it wasn’t worth the risk.

"I am yours to do with as you desire."

"Until you meet someone stronger?"

The giant nodded, his neck touching the laser as he did. "I serve the strongest."

"Why did you save her after trying to kill her?" Alistair felt anger running through him; Prometheus, his alter ego, wanted to step forward.

"When you killed the other servant, I understood my path was tied to you. I had no choice but to help if you permitted it. She is also your servant, and to help her is to glorify you."

Alistair gritted his teeth and gripped the Whip's hilt harder. He held his breath for a long moment, then he decided. Naïve or foolish, maybe, but he would not behead someone who had put himself at his mercy.

More, they needed the beast, and that was what no one else recognized in their fear of him. They needed this monster to get them to Thoreaux.

Alistair remained standing above him, but he withdrew the Whip into its hilt. "If you betray me or anyone you think serves me, I will end you."

"I understand, master," the giant agreed.

"Stand and come with me." Alistair left the room and headed back to his reduced council.

Chapter Fourteen

“It is a brutal life they live, but it is also a brutal universe.”

—The Orion Corporation

They moved hideouts, as was necessary.

Faitrin healed quickly. She was able to contact Jeeves, who arranged the next spot, and then travel to it.

The night would be at an end soon, then they would have thirty-six standard hours of daylight. They traveled the streets in silence, Faitrin leading them to the place Jeeves had set up.

The giant walked behind Alistair at a safe distance. He seemed to understand he wasn't trusted and didn't want anyone to feel threatened, yet he wouldn't let Alistair's back go unwatched.

Finally, Relm got sick of the creature being at Alistair's six. Holding a StarBeam, he walked over to him. "You get up front. I want you where I can see you."

The creature kept the same pace, his stride twice as long as Relm's.

"Pro! Tell this lug to get up there. I don't want him walking behind you."

Alistair still didn't understand all of this, but he acquiesced. "Up front."

"Yes, master." The creature didn't glance at Relm, just stepped in front of Prometheus.

Faitrin led them down backstreets. They could have taken a transport, but it would have been logged, and they had no idea how that was tracked. In the streets, they were protected to some degree since this planet didn’t want outright violence. Emptying a hotel and killing everyone? That was fine. Alistair wasn't worried about the clean-up back there. Whoever had paid off the necessary authorities could take care of it. Plus, he didn't think Ares was going to let him be locked up on a foreign planet. It wouldn't do much for the kid's legacy.

They finally reached the new place. It looked a lot sketchier than the first, but Alistair didn't care. He had two things on his mind, and the first was understanding this strange man-like beast. None of the people they passed had given the creature a look, though Alistair did not doubt that those wanting to kill him knew where they were. You couldn't miss this odd creature, even if people around here had some idea of what he was.

The creature was in a room by himself, while the rest bunked together. It was a tight fit, but Alistair felt they were safer that way.

He was about to head to the beast's room when Servia called him. "You can't trust it, and you can't let it sleep in there alone. We need to rest, but someone has to stand watch while we rest. You understand that, right?"

Alistair didn't turn around. "I don't trust it, but there isn't any other way to get to Thoreaux. If you think of another one, let me know. If not, I'll be getting information out of the creature."

He walked out, shutting the door behind him. The hallways were small, and he stood directly in front of the beast's room—the unnamed creature who called him master.

Alistair took his Whip off his belt and unfurled it. He turned the doorknob, half-expecting it to be locked. It moved easily, and he swung the door open.

The creature sat in front of Alistair. His eyes were staring forward as if he'd been waiting for Alistair to show up and had nothing else on his mind.

Alistair stepped into the room and quietly closed the door. He didn't retract the Whip, but he made no motion toward the creature either. "I need to know what you are. I need to know your past. Why you insist on calling me master. I need to understand what the gods were thinking when they made you, or I'm going to kill you before I leave this room. I know I need you, but I also know whoever sent you will send more. I will find someone else who will bring me to my friend."

"I will tell you whatever you want to know."

Alistair's eyes narrowed. "Start at the beginning."

"You humans, you value age, correct?" the creature asked from the bed.

Alistair shrugged. "I suppose you could say that. We celebrate it, however weird that is."

"I do not know how old I am. No one in my life has ever told me or cared." The creature showed no sadness at the revelation. He seemed to truly be trying to explain. "You are a human. I am a servant."

"I know that," Alistair interrupted. "What I mean is, what are you?"

The beast shook his head. "That has no meaning for me. I am a servant. No more, no less."

They were going back and forth, and Alistair wasn't getting it. It was as though they spoke different languages. "Okay, look, I'm not going to ask you any more questions. I want you to tell me what you remember."

The beast acted as if Alistair hadn't derailed the entire conversation. He spoke as instructed. "There are many like me on this planet, though this isn't my homeworld or theirs. We have no mother or father like you or other animals. We are..."

He looked confused again as if he were searching for the right words. Finally, it looked as if a light had fallen on his face. "Bred. We are bred. The one you killed. You asked if he was my brother. I have no family. No mother, no father." He closed his eyes. "My memory, I think it might be perfect, though I don't know. It would not be right for me to know how they made us, only the purpose for which we are made. I remember my birth. There were bright white lights everywhere. I could not speak. I only remember terror and humans around me."

Alistair thought he was talking about being born. He didn't see how that was possible, but he kept his mouth shut. He'd given the creature instructions, and they were being followed.

"I know about schools that humans go to. I went to a school too, though it was different, I think. There were many deaths in this school, but that was the point of it. To make us ruthless, to learn to follow orders, to think through how to accomplish the goals set by our masters. Always to serve the strongest."

Alistair hauled his Whip in as he grew lost in the creature's story. He wasn't a man, not if he was to be believed.

"I survived school, and many served me since I was strong. I was sold." He shrugged as if it was of no consequence. "I have been here since, serving at the feet of the strongest human I found. The one that purchased me, but I imagine beings like me cost a good amount, and to have that type of credit, you have to be strong." He shook his head. "I don't know; those things are beyond me."

Alistair was quiet for a long time, thinking about what he'd been told. The story wasn't in-depth, though he thought a lot of stories might reside in the creature's brief tale. Someone had to know what he was called if beasts like him could be purchased.

"Does your old master know that you would trade?" Alistair finally asked.

"I don't know," the beast answered. "He doesn't speak to me like this."

"Will you take me to him?" Alistair asked.

The creature's face looked like he was speaking to someone very simple. "I will do anything you tell me."

"Do you know who my friend is?"

"I should not, but I have heard of newcomers. Those like me, we talk."

Alistair's mind was calculating possibilities. "How many of you are there within your boss' organization?"

Again, a look as if Alistair wasn’t very smart. "My old master. Twenty or more, I would guess. He is a very wealthy man."

"They all follow strength, your kind?" Alistair asked.

The giant nodded. "It is what we are bred to do. It is what we are made for. We serve strength."

Alistair considered what he was being told, the entire outlandish story. Yet, the proof was in front of him. Once the creature had seen his fellow killer fall, he had offered no resistance but simply let Alistair implant his Whip through his shoulder. Now, he sat here with a head the size of a boulder, his body bigger than anything Alistair had ever seen.

"Your hand," Alistair pointed at it. "What came out of it, and how did you help my friend?"

The giant turned his hand over so he was looking at his palm. Again, that shrug in which he seemed to say he didn't understand. "The foot is to help walk. They are to help heal." He touched his right shoulder with his left hand. "They healed me. They healed her. As long as the person is not too far gone, they will heal."

Alistair remembered how the creature had been about to kill Relm. On top of him, pressing down his blade with one arm, and then how he'd flicked Alistair into the wall.

He nodded. His mind was made up. Naïve or not, it would be foolish to attack an underworld organization with the group they had now. "I want you to take me to the rest of those like you."

"Well, that's not the most enlightening story," Faitrin said. "Luckily, Jeeves has been able to get us a bit more information."

Alistair had returned to their room.

This planet's star was coming up in the distance, the size of the sphere creating beautiful streaks of orange and yellow on the horizon. Alistair wished Luna was here to see it with him. There were so many things about this universe that neither of them had known. She was missing it, and he was forced to experience it alone.

Someone would pay for all of this.

"What did Jeeves tell you?" Alistair asked. He'd finished relating the creature’s tale, realizing how little they knew.

"They are bred," Faitrin responded. She was healed from all outward appearances. "They're bred in laboratories on planets in this galaxy by a single entity, the Orion Corporation. They're called gigantes, which would translate roughly to giants, for obvious reasons. They have no names, and they do go to an academy of sorts, but it's more like a death camp. As adolescents, they're shipped to a planet the company owns. There, it is literally and figuratively beaten into their heads that they will serve the strongest master they find."

"Gods in the heavens," Relm whispered. "All of this is legal?"

"Legality has different meanings in this galaxy," Faitrin said. "Those who buy them are told their giant killer servants will betray them if they come to see someone else as stronger, so their buyers constantly abuse them and demonstrate their strength in contrived feats. Given the price for one of these things, it's a reasonable investment to make. Right now, his buyer knows he's either dead or that he's switched sides. He also knows it's not a good thing, I would imagine."

Alistair sat on one of the beds. "He's telling the truth? He's going to do whatever I say?"

"It has been beaten into him since his earliest memories that he has to," Faitrin agreed. "The amount of deprogramming it would take to stop him is unfathomable. Make sure no one bests you in front of him because you'll have big trouble. What he did to me wasn't special to him, either. Jeeves couldn't figure out if they're partly mechanical or android or what, only that they all come equipped with those little healing bugs inside them. It hurts them to use it, and if they use too many at one time, they might die from it."

That Jeeves character was very useful. "Can you keep Jeeves working on his history?"

"Sure thing," Faitrin said. "He’s bored as Hades right now anyway."

Alistair looked at his shoes, thinking about the giant. "He's got to have a name," Alistair said. "I can't go around calling him Thing or whatever."

Obs barked at that. Alistair looked at him. "He's not obstinate. That's you, pup."

Obs growled at the reference to a dog.

"Servia is already taken," Alistair said, "though ‘to serve’ fits him better than you." Alistair looked down. There were more important things to think about right now, but in one very important way, there wasn't. Alistair knew his plans, though his council didn't, not yet, and he knew he wouldn't have servants or slaves. If he took this creature on, he would be free sooner or later.

No, not a creature. The gigante.

Naming the gigante was important for him to understand he wasn't a servant. That he had free will.

"His name is Caesar." Alistair looked around the room. "Right now, we're going to get the rest of Caesar's buddies. If they follow strength, we're about to have twenty or so more giants on our team."

All their eyes widened. None had considered that.

"With twenty of those badasses, getting Thoreaux isn't going to be much of a problem."

Chapter Fifteen

“Any shortcomings in you are surely my fault.”

—Adrian de Livius, father of Ares

Ares stood outside a room that housed horror. Even now, he listened to the screams coming from it and grew sick at the sounds. He held his Whip in his right hand, gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white.

Hel was inside the room, and she was committing unspeakable acts. Ares had sworn his life to protect the Commonwealth. His whole existence had been aimed at ensuring the Commonwealth's continued rule because it preserved all that was good.

Ares was now outside a room that held the worst parts of humanity. Regardless of how Ares felt about Subversives or their motives, doing what Hel was doing now would never occur to him. You eliminated threats; you didn't revel in the opposition's pain. You didn’t torture them for hours on end.

If evil existed, it was in the room before him. He’d hidden his feelings from Veena when she came to him, but that was to protect himself. Hel’s actions disgusted him.

As Ares held his Whip, wanting to go in there and kill the creature posing as a woman, an existential crisis started in his mind. Perhaps he was being naïve or even stupid, but he couldn't help the thoughts coming to him.

The Commonwealth was the best of mankind.

Yet it had unleashed this assassin, which was the worst of mankind. It had knowingly let loose something so evil that it had kept her locked up, away from society. He couldn’t understand that. Was the Commonwealth good, or was it something else? A creation that would knowingly let out an assassin who enjoyed torturing her enemies.

A hellish shriek erupted from the room.

He knew now wasn't the time, but he had to understand something first.

Where did his allegiance lie? Was it to the Commonwealth or to his honor? He'd once thought they were one and the same, but now he didn't know.

It had been one of his final lessons from his father.

Romulus was eighteen, and of course, he'd been accepted to the Academy. His enrollment was days away, and servants were in a bustle at the manor, preparing for his departure.

Romulus was excited but nervous, too. His whole life, he'd been the best, and his family expected nothing less. To go to the Academy and not finish as Rex would be a blow he wouldn’t recover from. He was still years away from being crowned, but days before he entered the Academy, the prospect was heavy in his mind.

Adrian had been distant to the young man since his acceptance, even more so than usual. Romulus hadn't seen his father in over a week. He'd asked his mother if his father was upset, and she’d told him Adrian was busy with work.

His father remained away until the day when Adrian was supposed to depart. Earth's Academy was held on the other side of the world in the middle of the ocean. An entire continent had been built for training Earth's best, one that resisted hurricanes for the most part, though the inhabitants would face tremendous weather from time to time.

The flight would take twenty-four hours, and Adrian was focused on making sure Romulus had what was needed. Very little was permitted to come from outside, but Adrian had meticulously picked out the things they did allow.

Romulus was looking at the blade his father had chosen when the servant entered his room. "Sir, your father requests your presence."

Romulus showed no emotion, though he was shocked. He hadn't expected his father to speak to him, but he’d sent a servant to ask for him. "Did he say when?"

"Now, good sir."

Romulus nodded with his back to the servant. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, sir."

Romulus listened as the servant walked out of the room. He was nervous and yet glad his father was asking to see him. He loved his father, even if it was a distant love that didn't allow for closeness.

He placed the blade on his bed. There was still some packing to do, but he would go to his father first.

Adrian was at his desk when Romulus arrived. A holoworkspace hovered over the desk, and his father was looking at some sort of chart. Romulus stopped at the door, knowing Adrian would hear him.

He glanced up from the chart and nodded solemnly, then tapped something on the desk and shut the holo down.

Romulus was nervous, but Adrian might have been more so. He hadn't spoken to his son in over a week because he wasn't quite sure what to say. Adrian's entire tenure as a father had been spent knowing the next move for his son. He had followed his own father's guidance, modifying it for the new world and a child who would achieve more than he.

For the first time as a father, Adrian found himself unsure of what to do. His son had tested into the Academy with amazing scores. Everyone involved expected great things of him, and there was talk about whether he would be Rex before the session had even started.

His son had succeeded. "Sit down." He gestured at one of the seats in front of the desk. Romulus walked across the room and dropped into it.

Adrian leaned back in his chair and turned to the right so he looked out the window. He was a suspicious man, so he'd turned on a stealth device when he'd turned off the holo. The room couldn't be monitored by anyone, which he'd never tell his son. He had instructed him well enough in his childhood that he could figure that out on his own.

Romulus eventually spoke into the room's silence. "The servant said you wanted to see me."

Adrian nodded. "I do." He didn't look over as he spoke. "You're leaving shortly, correct?"

"Yes. The shuttle should be here in two hours."

Adrian closed his eyes and sighed. "I hope I did a decent job with you, Romulus. I did my best, and any shortcomings in you are surely my fault. All in all, I think we have given you the best chance to succeed in this world."

That was it. He had figured out what he wanted to tell his son and how to tell him. He turned the chair so he faced Romulus and opened his eyes. "You won't understand this right now, and that's fine. There hasn't been an opportunity to explain what I'm trying to talk about to you, not a real-life one, so I'm stuck with talking, which you know isn't my preferred method of conveying information."

He folded his hands in his lap.

"The world is going to try to change you, Romulus. It's the way of things. Some men will not have honor. Some of those men hold the highest stations on this planet. Since your earliest days, I have drilled into your head that you're to be the best no matter what, and perhaps I hit that too hard. It is more important to be a good man than to be the best man. Does that make sense?"

His son's face showed nothing of what he was thinking besides a slight narrowing of his eyes. "Not really, sir."

Adrian nodded and closed his eyes again. This was an important lesson, but he understood he might not be able to teach it. In his life, he had done the opposite of what he now told his son. He had tried to be the best instead of being good, and he'd done it for Romulus so his son would have the chance he had now.

He didn't want that for his son. In many ways, Adrian had sold his soul. Not all of it, but a portion? Certainly.

"I don't know if I'll be able to explain this to you, son. Not in the way I want. In the future, if you feel you might have to give up your honor to rise higher, choose your honor. It is better to be a low man with honor than a high one with none."

Chapter Sixteen

“The gigantes are nameless war machines. They will do your bidding until their dying breath.”

—Pamphlet from The Orion Corporation

"You ready for a name?" Alistair asked the gigante.

The creature raised both eyebrows in the most comic fashion Alistair had ever seen. Now that he wasn't trying to kill the beast, he'd taken time to study him. The gigante stood at least a half-meter taller than him, and his muscles made Alistair look small.

He was a freak who had been bred in a laboratory. When there was time, Alistair wanted to know how they did it, what they spliced to create this half-rock, half-man.

"I have no name," he responded to Alistair. "I serve."

"I know, I know, but if you're going to serve me, you're going to have a name."

The beast cocked his head. He couldn't defeat the logic in Alistair's words. He served, and if his master said he needed a name, then he would have one. He nodded. "I serve. What is my name, master?"

"Caesar."

"Yes, master."

It was clear to Alistair that he didn't understand the meaning of the name, but there would be time for that later. He had brought Caesar into the room with the rest of his council, but the giant didn’t seem to notice them. Obs was lying at the gigante's huge feet, resting his head on the left one as if it were a pillow.

"Now, Caesar," Alistair continued, "two things. How do we get to the rest of those who serve, and how do we not get killed doing it?"

The giant pursed his lips as if considering the question. Lying wasn't in him. Alistair wondered if he'd ever been deceptive in his life, but he didn't think so.

Finally, Caesar answered. "I can get us there. I don't know if I can keep us from being killed." He nodded as if confirming what he'd said.

Servia crossed her arms and glared at Alistair. "Well, that sounds grand."

Alistair smirked. "Hey, no one's died yet, and look at Faitrin. She's as good as new. Come on, Caesar, let's plan this thing and go get your buddies."

"I have no—"

Alistair raised a hand to stop him. "As long as you're with me, let's not be so literal, okay? Just let those things go."

Caesar looked at Obs, and the drathe stared back at him, then gave an exasperated sigh. The giant nodded as if the two were sharing a moment about their master.

They all slept except Caesar. He stood watch in front of the door like a machine, not moving.

When they woke, they left the hotel, following Caesar's lead. He still had the equipment he'd brought with him. He called it a kill kit, and that was what it was. There were weapons Alistair had never seen and tools he couldn't begin to understand. Caesar paid none of that any attention but pulled out a card. It was black and looked tiny in the giant's hand. If he made a fist, he could crush it to dust.

Alistair was amazed he'd killed one. The sheer size of these beings was beyond anything he'd seen. They were even bigger than the Myrmidons.

"We will use this," the being said in his stilted language.

"What is it?" Servia asked.

They'd turned down a back alley, though it wasn't empty. On this planet, people walked almost constantly.

Caesar tilted his head toward the sky. "They watch all the time. This will make it so they cannot watch." He touched two fingers to the card, one on either side. The edge of the black card lit up, flashing bright gold for a brief moment before returning to its original color.

"Come. Walk," Caesar commanded, slipping his card into his pocket.

Alistair waited until the rest of the group started forward before moving. He didn't know where they were heading, but somehow he'd found another loyal soul—as long as he kept winning.

The AllMother was walking next to him, which was what he wanted. "When we get to these creatures, things are going to get very dangerous. I'm sure you know I don't have a plan yet, but the goal is to convince all those beings that look like Caesar to follow me. Right now, they're going to try to kill me the moment I'm in sight. I know you get that. I want you to be careful. I'm going to ask Caesar to hide you somewhere, but if we can't..." He chuckled and looked at her. "If we can't, you have to promise me you’ll stay alive."

"As you told them, I haven't died yet."

Alistair nodded at the giant. "Any thoughts about him?"

The AllMother raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I'm not asking for advice," he added with a grin. "I've already made my decision. I'm asking for your thoughts about what you know so far."

She was quiet for a moment, her face taking on a pensive look. "My brother is the one who talks about fate, but the more I see, the more I believe in it. The kings of old had knights. Their best ones were feared throughout the lands." She pointed a bony finger at the giant. "That's your knight. Your first one. I think he'll kill multitudes for you, and I think he'll be feared throughout the universe. I believe Fate is building us an army."

"Not all of my choices have been the right ones," he said softly. "I know you don't want to help me make decisions—"

The old woman put her hand on his. "Not now. Now we go get the rest of your knights. We can talk about your nagging doubts another time."

Alistair nodded. "Yes, ma'am." Perhaps she'd sensed what was coming next, or maybe she didn't want him thinking negatively before a battle. Either way, a transport dropped from the sky directly in front of Caesar.

The gigante stepped to the passenger door, which was standing open. He said something to the AI inside, then pulled his head back and looked at Alistair. "Master, we are ready."

The AllMother smiled. "It's a very strange universe, isn't it? Who would have thought all these majestic things existed?"

Alistair wasn't sure if she was talking about the transport, the giant, or everything else that had happened. He kept his mouth shut and got in.

Chapter Seventeen

“We have all done things we aren’t proud of.”

—The AllMother

The AllMother closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall asleep as the transport flew through the sky. She didn't know how it worked or if she’d be protected from those who wished to do her harm, but she had faith. She hadn't been lying to Alistair when she said this new being was like a knight of old. Caesar would never meet anyone stronger than Alistair; the AllMother knew that to be true, so he would go to battle for the man.

The AllMother was so very, very tired. She did her best to keep up with these people who were not even a tenth her age, but it was wearing her down. She'd keep going, putting one foot in front of the other, but all she wanted to do was rest.

Rather than worry if she'd be protected during this flight to wherever, she did just that.

Her mind took her back.

It remembered things from long ago, things she hadn’t ever wanted to think about again.

Alex opened her eyes, then blinked.

She didn't understand where she was at first. Her body hurt tremendously, and she appeared to be in some kind of glass capsule.

Alex turned her head to the left and saw herself. She wasn't looking into a mirror but another capsule. She tried to understand how she could be in two places at once.

It wasn't possible.

Yet her vision didn’t clear.

"She's awake."

Alex didn't know the voice. It came from her right, so she sluggishly turned her head in that direction. A man was standing there in a black robe, meaning he was medical. He was staring at her, and Alex could see a comm in his ear. He looked scared, she thought. He's scared of me.

"She's awake, godsdamn it. They both are from the look of it. Gas the tanks. Put 'em both to sleep," the doctor nearly screamed into his comm. His fear was making Alex very nervous.

Gas shot into the capsule and Alex panicked. She didn't know what was going on or where she was.

Only that this doctor was trying to knock her out.

Something happened that Alex had never before experienced. Her mind reached out like a physical hand and slammed into the glass harder than she could have punched, shattering it.

Every bit of it at once. The glass started to fall toward her, and she was scared of being cut.

Her mind reached out again, and the glass paused in mid-air, not falling nor shooting outward, frozen.

How am I doing this? she wondered. She turned her head to look at the woman in the other tank. Her mind was still refusing to believe it was her. The gas flowed into the capsule, and the other person's eyes closed as she succumbed.

Alex turned to the right then. The man's mouth opened and closed but no words exited. His bladder let loose, and his robe darkened in the front.

"SHE'S OUT!" he shouted, then he turned and ran. He didn't look back or slow. He fled as if for his life.

Alex turned back to the glass hovering around her, and a question came to her: What do I do with it? She decided she didn't want it around her, then she saw it rush across the room and slam into the wall. Alex swung her feet off the platform she lay on but didn't hop down to the floor. She didn't trust her legs.

Instead, she stared at the girl in the other capsule. Her eyes were closed, but Alex couldn't deny it anymore. She was staring at herself.

She remembered what her father had done to her when she was staring at this replica.

Her eyes are red, she thought about the girl who looked like her. They had been red when she first looked out of the capsule at her. "Are mine?" she asked aloud, the memories of her father's awful plans rushing back. Alex started trembling, her arms, her legs, even her lips. She saw a mirror across the room and knew she couldn't get to it, but it floated over to her.

She didn't need to look in any mirror to know her eyes were red. She'd seen the proof ever since she'd awoken. She did look, though, and sure enough, red eyes stared back at her. She was now a mutant, modified.

Alex glanced over her shoulder at the sleeping woman who looked exactly like her. Alex's body was still trembling, and real fear sank in.

She didn't know who was who. She didn't know if she or the other woman was the clone. That was the whole point, the cells copying their very memories. Was she real, or was the other one?

Footfalls, many of them, echoed in a hallway leading to this room. The little doctor had brought people, perhaps her father's Titans or the Praetorian Guard.

Still trembling, Alex hopped off the platform. Her legs gave out immediately, and she fell to one knee. She looked up in time to see her father enter the room. His Praetorians trailed him in two rows. Her father was wearing the same purple as always, looking royal even as his daughter wore a gown showing her ass.

He stopped when he saw her eyes and the red irises. His mouth opened to say something, but like the doctor before him, he seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Alex's trembling had stopped. She remembered how savagely this man had beaten her. He'd knocked her unconscious, then locked her away for a month.

Very carefully, Alex rose to her feet. Her father was still standing there, as dumbfounded as if this hadn't been what he'd wanted all along. His eyes flashed to the capsule behind Alex, then quickly came back to her.

"Two of us, Father, as you asked for," Alex said. Her voice was cruel, and she no longer questioned what her mind could do. Perhaps she didn't know everything, but she knew it felt like another appendage. She could control it, and these men standing here with all their weapons couldn't.

"I need you to lie back down on that platform, Alexandria," her father instructed. "Right now."

"Have you seen Alexander, Father? Is he like me?" she asked. "Where is he? I'd like to see him?"

"Lie down!" he screamed, red heat rising on his cheeks.

She'd never seen him this angry except when he'd beaten her.

"No," Alex answered. "I want to see him." She dipped her chin slightly so her red eyes were full in his vision. Alex smiled, and at that moment, she understood how her father had felt when he hit her. She wanted to hurt something.

She waved her hand to the right, and the two rows of Praetorians flew through the air and slammed into the wall. Concrete shattered, and dust floated upward. The Praetorians didn't even have time to grunt. They were dead or unconscious, and she didn't care which. She had become her father, and now the weak were in front of her.

Aurelius de Finita, Imperial Ascendant, looked to his left. His men lay there, broken and unmoving. "Alexandria," he whispered, "you've got to stop this."

On unsteady feet, the young woman walked toward her father, the man who had been capable of breaking her a month ago. He turned his head to look at her, and to his credit, he wasn't shaking. He also wasn't stupid, and he made no movements.

"Is this what you wanted, Father?" Alex asked. "You wanted your genes to always be in power." She stopped a half-meter from him. "Do your genes feel powerful now? Tell me."

His jaw flexed as anger rolled through him. Perhaps for the first time in his life, the Ascendant stood in front of something he couldn't control or bend to his will.

"I'm going to go find my brother now. I wonder if he's happy with this little experiment? I wonder if I'll know which one is him and which is the clone. Can you tell?"

He stared at her.

For a second, she thought that would be it. His arrogance ruled the day, though, as it had his entire life. His hand was fast, and it moved to strike her in the throat, but her mind was faster than either of their bodies could ever be. She blinked, and her father rose into the air and smashed into the ceiling. Lights shattered and glass fell to the ground, though none of it touched Alex.

She glared at him, her red eyes glowing in the new darkness. "The first Aurelius knew when he'd reached his limits, Father. You would have been wise to understand the same."

Alex walked forward and flung her father to the floor with as much force as she could muster.

She left the room then, silence the only sound behind her.

Chapter Eighteen

“These humans do not seem to care much about living.”

—Internal thought of Jeeves

The AllMother's eyes flashed open and she gasped for breath. All these years later, she didn't know where she was. She blinked, then in her peripheral vision, she watched the gigante lean forward. He was sitting next to her now, having switched places. His eyes were wide, and he stared at the AllMother with the closest thing to concern he could show.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice a raspy whisper everyone in the transport could easily hear.

The AllMother remembered now, as she had when she’d woken up in that capsule. She'd been dreaming, or maybe remembering was closer. "I'm okay. Thanks." She patted the giant's massive leg.

The AllMother ignored the creature's surprise and leaned her head back against the seat. She hadn't thought about those first actions for a long time, centuries, maybe. For a very brief time, she'd known how her father had done what he'd done. She could have acted the same, conquering an entire planet only to bend it to her will while saying she was doing it for the people.

She closed her eyes again, though she doubted she'd fall asleep. She was still tired, but just now, she wasn't interested in remembering the horrible things she'd done.

Alistair stared at his surroundings, taking them in very carefully. He had his SkinSuit on and the hood over his head, the eye mechanisms allowing him to see kilometers in front of him. Obs was at his feet, and Relm and Faitrin were on his right. Caesar and Servia stood on his left, and the AllMother was behind them.

The fortress was about ten kilometers away. Caesar had been right about the little card he held. The transport wasn't detected by anyone, and Caesar hadn't been able to explain why it hadn’t been, only that they were safe. Faitrin ended up explaining that the card allowed stealth transports to pick up assets. Technology shielded them from eyes searching for their whereabouts.

It didn't matter now.

Caesar said this is where the gigantes were—and Thoreaux.

Once again, Alistair found himself wondering what in the hell they were to do. “Fortress” might not be the right term. It'd taken them almost thirty-six hours to get to this place, and the planet's star was starting to recede beneath the horizon. That might make this a little easier, but not much. What Alistair was looking at surely had the technology to see in darkness.

The gangsters on this planet were like a government, and Alistair now stared at the capital. The actual governments on this planet had to be insanely powerful to hold these criminals at bay.

A tall tower stood in front of the building. Nothing but wilderness lay in all directions: no homes, no businesses, only that massive building. "What is that?" Alistair asked as he pointed at the tower.

"Laser defense system," Caesar answered.

"Can it shoot the transport?"

"Yes. Hiding does not work here," the giant answered calmly.

"That's great," Relm said. "Exactly what I wanted to hear."

"Okay." Alistair looked past the defense tower at the wall that wrapped around the building. Sentries walked the top of it. "Are those androids or people or gigantes?"

"Mixture," Caesar responded.

Alistair also saw turrets on top of the wall, most likely bearing plasma guns or lasers. Who knew what it would look like when they got in, but he couldn't concern himself with that at the moment. "Caesar, where are your kind kept? Do they roam free, or are they in a specific spot?"

"We are only called for certain tasks. Otherwise, we are kept beneath the ground."

Relm interjected, "This gets better and better."

Looking to the left and right of the building, Alistair saw the same defensive towers. He assumed there was one on the far side, too. "Caesar, this is your home. What do we do?"

"Like I said. We're here. If you want to go in, we die."

Relm laughed as he looked at Faitrin. "How's it feel to be born again, only to die a few days later?"

"At least I won't have to listen to your shitty jokes anymore." She looked down the row at Caesar. "I think what Pro means is, what's the best way to get inside? The way that's least likely to kill us?"

The giant nodded and pointed at the tower. "Through there."

Servia spoke from the end of the line. "Alistair, I need to talk to you. I can do it here, or I can do it in private. Which do you prefer?"

Alistair kept his eyes forward. He hadn't expected that. He'd thought he and Servia had worked out their issues about Thoreaux, and now as they were about to attack an insurmountable force, she wanted to tell him not to? Again?

"Private," he said curtly. He turned away from the cliff's edge and walked back to the transport a half-kilometer away. Servia followed. When he reached the transport, he turned quickly. "This isn't the time, Servia. If you have doubts—"

She raised a hand to stop him from speaking. "Hear me out, okay?"

"Go."

"I need to ask you this. How important is Thoreaux to you? Is he worth losing everything?" She met his eyes and was calm as she spoke. "It's a fair question since we will have to risk everything to get him back. Do you need him to do what you're supposed to do? Is he irreplaceable in this machine?"

It was a fair question, Alistair couldn't deny that, and it came down to this, as selfish as it was: did he need Thoreaux to get back to his wife? Could someone replace him?

Alistair leaned against the transport and retracted his suit's hood into the neckline. He stared into the distance, unable to see the fortress in detail. "Is there someone else in the universe who can do what Thoreaux does for me? Yes. No one is irreplaceable, Servia. Not you, not Thoreaux, not me. Maybe the AllMother. Will I find another Thoreaux with no time to plan or search? I won't. I'll get far without him, but at some point, I'm going to need him, like I did back in that dreadnought."

Servia nodded. "I believe you, and I'm all in. Thoreaux is like a brother to me. I had to hear you say you need him before I went along with getting us all killed. The giant isn't going to be able to figure this one out. He's gotten us here, and he's telling us the easiest way in, but that's as far as he'll be able to think through this. He's not dumb, but his tactics center around brute force. We're all going to die if we do that."

"Do you have a plan?"

Servia smiled. "I do, though I only give us a ten percent better chance of living if we use it."

I'm going to die, Alistair thought. It had come up in his mind many times before, and in all honesty, he should have been dead by now. Despite everything, however, he was still alive, but now it seemed as if he’d decided to take his own life.

Nothing else could explain what he was about to do. Truly, if anyone in this group could think clearly, they would have gone back to the Terram. At least, that was what Alistair thought as he sat inside the transport. The AI was ready to fly it, and everyone else had left a couple of hours ago. They, of course, were en route to the tower on foot.

It was Alistair's job to meet them there.

He'd invaded dreadnoughts, killed countless men, became Rex at the Academy, yet he'd never attempted anything like this. He'd never even thought of doing something this crazy.

He spoke into the comm, hiding his pessimistic outlook on the endeavor. "Confirm you are ten minutes out."

Servia's voice came back. "We are, Pro. Good luck."

Her voice was solemn. She'd presented her ridiculous plan, and he'd tried his best to come up with something different. There was nothing.

"Taking off," he said. Faitrin had managed to connect Jeeves to the transport, boxing the current AI into a small portion of the ship’s mainframe. "Jeeves, let's go."

"Yes, sir," the AI responded.

The transport rose into the air and started flying toward the tower. Two minutes passed. Alistair flew in silence, saying nothing to Jeeves. The AI remained quiet as well.

Another three minutes. Alistair spoke into the comm. "Five minutes out. Same for you?"

"Yes, sir," Servia responded.

At four minutes, they were nearly at the point where the defense tower could fire, though a direct hit would be hard. Jeeves spoke up. "I hate to bother you right now given your near-certain death, Pro, but I'm beginning to wonder if you're alive. Your resting pulse rate is still at fifty-five beats per minute."

Alistair smiled. "My body never panics, Jeeves."

"You and I are a lot alike in that fashion then, even though I don't have a body."

The first laser streaked through the sky. Jeeves controlled the ship with ease, shifting to the left and dodging it.

"Those people are extremely rude, Pro. They didn't even send me a warning."

"That was the warning," Alistair told him.

More lasers ripped through the sky, and Jeeves stopped speaking. All of his computing power was being used to bridge the distance from his ship and keep this transport from exploding. Alistair held onto his seat as the vessel moved up and down, left and right, spinning through the air as it barely avoided the streaking death rays.

"Thirty seconds," Jeeves said curtly.

Alistair was dressed in Caesar's gear. It didn’t fit him, but it was better than the simple SkinSuit he wore. He stood and moved to the back of the transport. Inside his armor, even walking was hard. The side door opened, and the wind ripped at him.

"Five seconds. Good luck, Pro."

Lasers whipped past the transport. Alistair looked at his target, closed his eyes, and fell.

As he dropped, he brought his body into a fetal position, the armor surrounding him.

He opened his eyes and heard the transport explode above him at the same time.

Three...

Two...

One.

He slammed into the glass walls on the top of the tower. He heard people yelling as he skidded to a stop. His body ached, but the armor had done its job. He got to his feet in a fluid motion, pulling the giant's armor off as he did.

Four men stood in front of him, stunned and staring. Servia had been right about them. They might be criminals, but they spent their time manning a tower that was never attacked. Now, a huge man with red eyes confronted them, bright red lasers streaming from the hilt in his hand.

Alistair moved through the four men quickly, taking their lives as they'd tried to take his.

"I'm in," he announced into the comm.

"About time," Servia said with relief in her voice.

Alistair walked over to the control panel. Glass was strewn across it. "Gods damn it," he said. "This thing is like reading a different language."

"Don't worry, good chap, I'm still here," Jeeves responded in his ear. "Faitrin managed to get me hooked up to you too. Will you give me access to your SkinSuit?"

Alistair did. He didn't feel anything, but he knew the AI was looking through his hood. Seconds passed, then Jeeves told him what to press. Alistair touched the panels in front of him, then asked Servia, "Did it work?"

"Door just opened," she responded.

"On my way down." Alistair grabbed the gigante’s armor, then found the stairs and rushed to the bottom. Everyone but the AllMother and Obs was waiting there for him. The gigante led them underground, following the same staircase.

Alistair looked down a long tunnel with lights on either side. They were a kilometer from going underneath the walls.

"We will meet opposition," Caesar said. "They are coming to kill us now."

"Get us to the rest of your kind," Alistair instructed.

The giant nodded. "Yes, master."

The group started down the tunnel. Alistair and Caesar walked side by side, two gods coming to take their vengeance.

Chapter Nineteen

“Death? That’s for other people.”

—Hel vi Thraxus

Hel's head was cocked, and she held a torch in her hand. Fire shot from the end of it, and she watched as Thoreaux’s skin blackened and bubbled.

The Subversive was screaming, but Hel had chained him up for this little experiment. She had never burned flesh without a purpose before, and she wanted to see how long it would take to burn down to the bone.

She kept the flame on the lower arm, but the screaming had stopped. Hel looked up and saw the Subversive had fainted from the pain.

"Damn it!” She'd have to go get a stimpack to wake him and keep him up. Truthfully, she should have already administered one, but she had been anxious to get started.

She stood up and walked across the room to the door. She reached to push it open when someone on the other side pulled it.

Veena was standing in front of her, disgust written on her face. Hel gave her the most charming smile she could muster. "How can I help you, Primus?"

"He's here," Veena said, her eyes flashing to the unconscious Subversive.

"Who?"

"Who the fuck do you think?"

A shiver of fear ran down Hel's back. It was involuntary, and she couldn't hide it from Veena. The assassin closed her eyes for a moment to settle herself, but when she reopened them, her right hand was trembling—the one that held the torch. "Kane?"

The Primus bitch smiled. "That's right. All of your plotting and planning has brought him here. He somehow took out one of their defense towers, and from what I understand, he's in a tunnel trying to go beneath the ground."

Hel looked over her shoulder at the unconscious Subversive. She didn't understand what could make the man chase them this far. It was a loyalty she could never feel, to give up his life for someone like the cretin in the corner. Hel understood what this meant for her. If he did make it through this fortress and find her?

Death would be a welcome release from what Kane would do.

She turned back to Veena. "Where's Ares?"

"He's preparing for battle."

"Have you talked to Manius?" Hel asked. The man ruled this fortress and a quarter of the underworld on this giant planet. There were so many rumors about the man that Hel couldn't keep up with them all. He took cold credits, however, and had been willing to entertain her plans.

"No, but that's why I'm here. One of his lackeys said he wanted to speak to you. The lackey wasn't keen on coming down here to talk to you. Even the worst criminals find you vile."

"Thanks for the message. Tell the lackey I'll go to Manius now." Hel reached out and closed the door, then turned around and stared at the man in the corner. She'd met with Manius once before when he allowed them to stay in this fortress. It'd cost a lot of credits, but she hadn't wanted to be in the wilderness with Kane hunting her for this exact reason. The man simply defied odds.

She didn't know what Manius was going to say about any of this. All she knew for sure was that Kane’s arrival wasn't good, not for her, and not for anyone she traveled with.

Hel knew she couldn't keep the underworld boss waiting. She left the Subversive chained up and locked the room as she left. She wasn't taking any chances with him getting loose. She understood that if she was caught by him or his friends...

No, she wouldn't think about it. Right now, she had to deal with Manius.

Hel made her way through the castle-like fortress. There was a lot of movement around her, but that was usually the case in here. She couldn't tell how seriously they were taking Kane.

She reached Manius' quarters. Two guards stood outside, and they recognized her and were expecting her. One opened the door without saying anything, and Hel walked through. Her Whip was still on her hip, so she could cut her way out of here if she needed to.

The underworld leader sat on a couch to the right of the door. A fireplace was in front of the couch, burning the same as Hel's torch had been, only lacking the flesh to destroy. Manius had a DataTrack on his lap, and he'd pulled up a holocam. Hel saw that he was looking at a tunnel.

She heard the door close behind her.

They were alone, and Manius didn't look up as he spoke. "Things haven't gone as you expected. This man you said I would be able to kill has killed my men, and from the looks of it, converted one of my gigantes to his cause."

Hel didn't know what a gigante was, but the underworld leader sounded less than pleased.

He pressed a button on the DataTrack, and the holocam floated above the fireplace. A creature larger than anything Hel had ever seen was on the right side of the hallway, and Kane was on the left. The creature almost made Kane look small, which was saying something.

"My men will meet them momentarily," Manius said as he watched the group walking through his tunnel. "The gigante must have told them about the tunnel, meaning he's flipped." His eyes fell on Hel. "You're going to have to pay extra for this. I hope you understand and agree."

"Certainly," Hel said as she watched the crew that was coming for them.

The underworld leader touched the DataTrack, and the holocam disappeared. He placed the device next to him. "The man you're torturing. Is he still alive?"

Hel nodded. "He is."

Manius crossed one leg over the other and thought for a moment. "This Kane, he's coming for that man, right?"

Another nod from Hel.

"The credits you've given me aren't worth all this headache, but I can't simply give back a tortured man. Every person alive will think they can just show up here and demand something from me. No, this Kane needs to be an example." He nodded to himself. "I'm okay with that. Sometimes examples are needed."

His eyes met Hel's again. "I should kill you all and be done with this mess, but you've paid me, and I will honor that. Once he is dead, I assume you'll be leaving, correct?"

"That's correct," Hel responded. "With haste."

"I didn't ask a lot of questions before because I thought this would be a fairly simple task. Now it appears a bit more complicated. This man that has one of my slaves following him, so how dangerous is he?"

Lying would yield no benefit. If Kane had evaded death by the killers sent to him, somehow converted one of these assassins, and then showed up here? "He's the most dangerous human I've ever met in my life."

Manius stared at her for long seconds, looking as if he wasn't impressed with what she had to say. He eventually asked, "Do you plan on helping us repel him, or would you rather go back to your little torture chamber?"

It didn't matter what she told him; Hel wasn't facing Kane one on one again. No, if she had a chance to kill him, it would be using stealth, not brawns. "I'll help," she lied.

"Good." The underworld lord nodded. "Go on, then. I'll expect payment once he’s dead."

"They're almost here," Caesar said.

The group had only walked half a kilometer, but the reaction time in the fortress was impressive. They'd gassed the tunnel, though the SkinSuits had protected Alistair's crew. There'd been lasers on the walls, but Servia had taken them out with her StarBeam. The impressive part was the men on the ground, flooding the tunnel and nearly at their location now.

Alistair brought everyone to a stop. He could hear footfalls in the distance, though the tunnel had been built in a way that kept them from seeing the enemy. Slight valleys made it impossible to tell where they were.

He looked at Caesar. "You and I are going to take the brunt of this. I don't know how many they've sent, but I hope they don't see us as a serious threat. Regardless, we have to push forward because if we don't get to the other gigantes, we're dead. I can assure all of you on that point. We have to push through this no matter what they send our way."

Alistair pulled a blade from his belt and rolled the suit back on his arm. They knew what was coming, or everyone but Caesar did.

Alistair took a knee, and those in front of him followed his lead. Caesar stared at the group, not understanding, but the Fallen Titan didn't pause.

"I do not kill for glory," he said.

"I do not kill for glory," was the response.

"I do not kill for malice. I kill because it is right. Because if I do not kill, those who seek to harm me and those I love will do so."

His soldiers' words echoed his own.

Alistair brought the blade to his arm and sliced his flesh. Blood dripped on the floor. He watched as those in front of him did the same.

"I do not fear the enemy. I do not fear death. I only fear living without protecting those I love. I only fear cowardice and hiding from my duty. As this blood flows, so will I. I bleed now so that I will not later. I bleed now so that those who sow harm against me know that blood does not frighten me. I bleed now because it is this blood that will conquer anyone in my path. See it and fear. See it and die."

His hood rolled back into the neckpiece, and Alistair took the blood from his arm and smeared it under both eyes.

His crew did the same, everyone but Caesar, who had turned to stare down the tunnel. "A few more seconds, master."

Alistair stood, and his hood rolled back over his face. He hooked the blade to his belt and grabbed his Whip. The lasers unfurled. "Forward."

He and the giant took off, their feet pounding the floor. They met the enemy at the top of the next hill.

Three men stood shoulder to shoulder, but only Alistair and Caesar could face them. The giant had his two laser blades out, and he launched one. It somersaulted through the air and pierced a skull. The enemy remained standing as if unable to decide what to do next.

He hit the floor.

Alistair and Caesar surged forward. The Titan saw everything and very little at the same time. His body reacted by instinct as he battled in the tightest quarters he'd ever experienced, yet the giant adapted to Alistair's fighting style. When Alistair needed more space, it was there, and when he needed support, the huge creature gave it.

Those behind the two gods of war watched in awe. They all had their weapons ready, but they didn’t get the opportunity to use them.

In truth, to meet Alistair and Caesar in a tight spot was a death warrant. Of course, those attacking couldn't have known that, but the physical setup favored them. The enemy could only have three men fighting at a time, and none of them were prepared for the violence they ran into. Alistair cut them down with his Whip as Caesar used his sheer size to pulverize anyone who got in his way.

They fought through a quarter-kilometer of men, stepping over the dead even as they created new death. At the end of the quarter-kilometer, the remaining men fled. They buckled under the pressure of certain death and rushed back into the fortress.

Alistair turned to the giant, his shoulders heaving as breath rushed in and out of his mouth. "Well done."

Caesar nodded but said nothing. Blood and guts covered the two of them as if they'd been born from a nightmare.

Alistair turned to look at his soldiers. "You all okay?"

He saw the awe on their faces. Perhaps fear, too. So much violence in such a fashion had to inspire both emotions.

Relm finally spoke. "Just waiting for my chance to get involved, broth."

The giant replied, "It is coming."

Ares wore his MechSuit, everything but the helmet still retracted into the neckline. He stood next to one of the underworld generals, a man who looked like he'd been in his fair share of battles but had no training outside of what his profession had given him through trial and error.

The general held a DataTrack, and Ares had watched Alistair and some freak of nature wipe out almost a legion. Finally, the men fled, knowing that to stand any longer would only bring death.

Ares had never seen anything like the man next to Alistair. He was covered in black armor and was much taller than Alistair. "Who is that?" he asked as they watched the invasion proceed uninhibited.

"That's a gigante," the general said absently. "He must have started serving your friend there at some point."

"He's human, right?" Ares asked. The word “gigante” sounded foreign, and the man was too big. Something wasn't adding up.

"To a point, I guess. They're made in labs. We have more." The general touched things on the DataTrack, giving orders to move men and weapons to the tunnel's endpoint. The plan was to make it a kill zone, where Alistair would be forced into tight quarters. Manius' men could spread out and fire indiscriminately.

Ares knew Alistair wasn't stupid. He'd expect this, and the man was a brilliant tactician, so it wouldn't be as easy as the general was thinking. "You have more of those things?" He pointed at the DataTrack.

"Quite a few, yes." He was hardly paying attention to anything Ares said.

"Why in the hell aren't we using them? That creature is a force of nature. A tornado."

"It's too late for a lot of reasons I don't have time to explain right now, all right? Just know your friend there could turn the entire cohort against us, and then we’d be in real trouble. Got it?"

Ares didn't, not really. The general was pinning his hopes on this kill zone, but Ares was thinking further ahead. There was a thirty percent chance Alistair would make it out of that, especially with the creature at his side. He was like a battering ram of old, the kind invading armies had used to break down a castle's doors.

Where are you going, old friend? Ares wondered. You can expect to get inside here, I think, but back out? No. You've lost the element of surprise, and carrying a wounded Thoreaux with you? You'll be cut down.

It clicked then what Alistair's plan was. He was far too smart to think he could get out, not without help. Ares didn't understand what the general had said, but if Alistair was in charge of one of those creatures, he did understand.

If this man thought all those gigantes would serve the Fallen Titan, then so did Alistair. He was heading to them.

Ares left the general, the plan formulating in his head. He had to find Hel.

Ares rushed through the fortress. The bitch had to know what was happening by now, and there was no chance she'd fight Alistair straight up. Ares had seen other Titans like her who had devolved the same way. A beating that severe changed a person. It brought real fear to them, perhaps for the first time, and that was what had happened to Hel. She would try to hurt Alistair in the most painful ways imaginable, but only if she was safe.

Ares found her in her room. She was donning her battle gear, but her Whip was already on her hip. Her back was to him when he stepped in the open doorway. "Are you going to fight?" he asked, though he knew the answer.

"Yes," she said, both of them knowing it was a lie.

"The prisoner, is he dead?"

Hel strapped a vest to her chest. "No. I'll kill him when Kane is there to see it."

"Do you think we're going to win this? After everything that's happened, you know he's unbeatable. It's like the god of war reached down and touched Kane, giving him this one task to accomplish: to rise against the people who tried to hurt him."

She turned, an eyebrow raised. Her normal mocking smile was gone, replaced by grim resolution. "What the fuck are you talking about, Titan? Don't come here and try to bait me with this fatalistic talk. Tell me what you want to happen or leave, because I have things to do."

I'm sure you do, Ares thought. "I have a way we can win."

She slowly moved her hands to her hips. "What is it?"

Ares went through what he thought was happening. He told her about the giant, which she admitted to having seen in Manius' quarters. He explained there were more of them and that Alistair was heading for them.

That was how the former Titan planned on getting out of here—with an army of giants.

"Who else did you tell?" Hel asked.

"No one. I came to find you because I figured you're a devious bitch who can work it to our advantage."

"You didn't even tell Veena?"

Ares shook his head. "No one else." He saw the wheels turning in her head. He'd been right, and if his father could see him now, he would be proud.

"We've got to find them, these giants." Hel continued dressing. "Do you have any idea where they are?"

"The easiest way is to look at where Alistair is now and plot where he's heading. If we can get there first, we might be able to change this whole endeavor."

Hel hooked a StarBeam to her belt and moved across the small bare room with a speed Ares recognized as deadly. Just because a god of war had beaten her senseless, it didn't mean anyone else could. Ares would be smart to remember that.

She picked up a DataTrack and pulled up Alistair's location. He and his crew had stopped a bit short of the intended kill zone, showing that Alistair knew what was planned. Hel didn't study where he was but zoomed out and looked at the fortress’ blueprint. People were moving up and down hallways, preparing for battle. Hel pressed the screen, and everything disappeared from the view except the kill zone.

"When he comes out, he can take a right or a left. Based on the way these men are lined up, they're trying to push him left. They may not know what he's doing, but they don't want him to get to those creatures." Hel zoomed out on the DataTrack, moving the blueprint to the right. There wasn't anything that seemed to hold giants, so she dropped down another floor. Still nothing. She dropped down one more, and there it was. It wasn’t obvious unless you knew what you were looking for. It looked like a dorm or a barracks, but three levels beneath the ground? "That's where Manius hides them. That's where we're going." She looked at him. "Are you ready to end this thing? Maybe we can get back to Earth and have a life again."

Ares nodded. "I'm ready."

Hel led the way, bringing the DataTrack with her. Ares followed, but she never looked back. She was wrapped up in the giants, which was what Ares had hoped for.

No one glanced at them as they made their way through the fortress. Everyone had their own agendas to attend to in those moments, and most of them thought their next actions were of life and death importance. Perhaps they were, but Ares was glad no one looked at them.

After descending the final staircase, they reached the giants’ level. A large door stood between them and what they wanted, closed and locked. A panel was on the wall to the right, but they understood it wouldn't let them in. Truthfully, it was amazing they'd gotten this far; only the war could explain it. Things weren't sealed off because the enemy wasn't inside yet. Freedom of movement was paramount to setting up defenses. Only this level was locked down.

"Okay, Titan," Hel said as she unhooked her Whip. "We're going to burn our way through this damn thing."

Ares nodded as he freed his Whip. Hel approached the door first but didn't plunge her weapon into it. She looked at Ares as he approached. "You first, big man."

Ares smiled, a disarming, charming expression. "How about the same time?"

"You're not all looks," Hel said with a grin. "Let's go."

Turning their Whips into swords, they unfurled them and drove them into the door. It took a few seconds to plunge them deep into the metal, then there was nothing to do but wait. The door would need to melt enough for them to get through.

Hel was still smiling, and Ares smiled too.

There was only greed in her eyes. Ares thought of his father at that moment and the lessons he'd been taught over all those years. His father had been right; Ares had been lucky to have someone raise him with so much wisdom.

He kept his smile plastered on his face as his MechSuit's helmet rolled out of the neckline. He watched as Hel's grin faltered.

"Who knows what's on the other side of that door," Ares said as the helmet enclosed his head.

He didn't try to pull his Whip out of the metal.

Hel understood a second too late. She started yanking at her Whip, wanting to get it out of the door, but the metal held it.

Ares shoved her with both arms, releasing his Whip. The suit multiplied his strength, and she slammed into the far wall. "You have no honor. You're not even human, Hel, and what you did to that Subversive made my stomach turn."

Hel slid to the floor, dazed. Her head had hit the wall hard.

"I don't hate you like Alistair does," Ares said as he crossed the small space in three large steps. "I won't beat you like he would, and for that, you should thank me. I'm going to be merciful."

Hel looked up, fear replacing the dazed look. She reached for the laser blade on her belt, but Ares kicked her hand away, breaking bones. She screamed and tried to get to her feet, scrambling up the wall.

Ares said nothing. He simply grabbed the woman by the head with his metal gauntlets.

He turned his hands, and the movement snapped the assassin's neck. Her body went limp, and her bladder let loose. He held her there for a second, enjoying the look frozen on her face.

Ares couldn’t deny what he saw, which was pure shock. She'd never thought this would happen. She had killed others and manipulated people for so long that in the end, she’d thought herself invincible.

Ares let her drop to the floor and looked over his shoulder at the door. It was nearly finished. His Whip was starting to fall as the door melted. He walked over to it and pulled it out. Ares turned it off but left the dead woman's Whip to finish the job.

He had other things to accomplish, none of which had anything to do with the giant creatures down here.

Chapter Twenty

“While the Gigante’s healing technology will be a great boon to your force, overuse can lead to premature death.”

—From Gigante’s Owner’s Manual, The Orion Corporation

Alistair had stopped the group out of sight of the coming attack.

He knew if they were going to die, it would be here. They were at a disadvantage now instead of the other side.

For all his gifts, Alistair couldn't think of a way through this. He understood that the moment that one of them poked their head up high enough for the enemy to see, they'd make sure they never had to put pants on again.

Alistair was on one knee, as was everyone else. The lights were still off in the tunnel, and his hood covered his face. He could feel the blood on his cheeks dripping, covering his jaw. His entire body smelled of raw, human flesh.

"I'm out of ideas," he told the group. "If we go forward, they're going to cut us down like farmers at harvest time." He looked back the way they'd come.

The giant stood and looked at Relm. "You ready for your chance, little man?"

Relm raised both eyebrows. "’Little man?’"

"Tiny man," the giant said with a grin the size of the quarter-moon. "You ready for your chance?"

Relm chuckled. Everyone was a tiny man to this creature, or everyone except Alistair. "Yeah, I'm ready, broth."

Caesar turned to Alistair. "Attack. I will handle everything else."

Alistair glanced at the giant's hands. He understood what the creature was saying. Whatever he had done to help Faitrin, he was now going to use it on them. Alistair remembered what Faitrin had told him, though—that using the nanotechnology hurt him. If he used too much of it, he could die. "Are you going to survive?"

The giant shrugged, still smiling. "I serve, master."

Alistair thought he saw something in the being's face, something he understood. This creature had been bred to serve but also to kill. He was supposed to go into the most harrowing places imaginable and wreak havoc, but except for the time he’d faced Alistair, he had never been challenged, or not since leaving the school he was born into.

This was his chance to challenge himself. Strangely, he was looking forward to it.

Alistair stood, then carefully reached over and touched the giant's boulder-like shoulder. Caesar was uncomfortable with the act, but he didn't move. "Thank you for what you're about to do."

Caesar cocked his head to the side. He didn't understand what was being said, not fully.

Alistair dropped his hand and looked at the others. "You know what to do." He was quiet as he took the measure of the three. Even with the giant's ability to heal, they would probably die here. He pulled his Whip off his belt and let the lasers drop to the floor, creating a red glow in the dark tunnel. He retracted his hood now that they could see again.

The others did the same.

"See this blood and die."

The group's voice rose as one, echoing off the walls. "Ave, Prometheus!"

Alistair disappeared, and the killer stepped forward. Prometheus was here.

He turned to the enemies; he needed to say nothing else. The five rushed toward glorious death.

Veena was looking for Hel, but she couldn't find the woman anywhere. She wasn't in her room or in her torture chamber. The Primus had popped her head into it to make sure. The smell had forced her out. She had no idea how Hel stood it.

If the bitch could handle the vicious acts she committed, a bad smell probably didn't bother her much.

Veena was searching for Hel because she'd made her decision. She wasn't going to let the assassin kill this Subversive after what she'd done to him. Deep down, Veena felt cowardly for not stepping forward after listening to Ares' speech about waiting. That might be okay for someone like him, but she should have put a stop to it.

She would do so now, even if it meant she had to kill Hel. The Subversive would be taken back to Earth, given medical attention, and put on trial. That was how things should work. That was how they did work; this deviation had to end.

Veena was shocked that Kane had come here, but she had no reason to believe he would survive. He'd only survived so far because of Myrmidons or the bitch she was searching for, outside of Veena's mistake on Pluto. Those factors had been removed, and an entire army of cutthroats would put him down.

Veena would ensure this Subversive was subjected to no more acts of horror. When this was over, she was going back to Earth. If that meant losing her place as Primus and being Clipped or anything else, she'd accept it. She was done with this madness.

She heard Ares' heavy footsteps approaching, his MechSuit making it hard for him to sneak up on anyone. Veena had closed the Subversive’s door. She looked down the hall at the Titan in his crimson suit. "Have you seen Hel?"

Ares walked closer but stopped about five meters away. "Yes."

Veena could slap him. Now wasn't the time for games. "Well, where is she?"

"At the bottom of a stairwell. She's dead."

Veena froze as she processed the information. She had come here with the possibility of killing Hel in the back of her mind, though she hadn't honestly thought it'd be necessary. Now this Titan in full gear was telling her the woman was deceased. "How?"

"I broke her neck," Ares answered.

"Why?"

"Because she deserved it." His face was a mask, showing no emotion. "She deserved far worse if we're honest; her death was too merciful."

Veena slowly placed her hand on the StarBeam at her hip. "Did you come here to kill me too?"

"That depends on you."

The lasers and plasma streaked through the air like comets.

Prometheus charged forward without knowing who was beside him or behind him. He had only one goal: the death of everyone in front of him.

The first shot to hit him tagged his shoulder. The SkinSuit tried to react to the plasma, but it wasn't built to withstand that kind of burn, so the plasma melted into his flesh. He ignored the pain and charged forward, only three meters from his target.

A laser slashed across the outside of his thigh, slicing through suit and meat alike. He heard a scream behind him but rushed forward as blood poured from his body. Two meters out.

He didn't see the insects at first; his mind was focused on bringing death to his enemies. He saw the first one in the corner of his vision, floating on the side. He didn't have time to look, but suddenly there were more surrounding his head as they tried to find purchase on his shoulder.

He reached the line of battle as plasma blasted his left forearm. The Whip in his right hand cut through the first line of soldiers, putting two on the ground with their intestines rolling across the floor. Lasers came from behind him as Servia aimed at the enemies. He saw the insects landing on his nearly shattered left arm, the pain dead to him in his bloodlust.

Men fell in front of him, and it sounded like Caesar was laying waste to those on the right side. More of the robotic insects filled the air, latching onto Alistair in places he didn't know were wounded. A MechPulse blasted from behind him, and he saw Faitrin step forward with her two knives to join in the violence.

Insects were everywhere, a cloud practically covering Prometheus as he slashed and cut. Someone went for his lower legs and he leaped over the man, puncturing his torso with his Whip.

A piece of artillery flew through the air, nearly taking off Pro's head, then smashed into the wall and shattered. He turned to the right and saw Caesar picking up another plasma blaster and tossing it the opposite way. All the while, nanotech flooded out of his palms, the bugs searching for their injured.

The battle lasted a little over four minutes, and after Prometheus killed the last man, he fell to his knees.

Holes covered his body, and he'd never felt so weak in his life. He didn't try to stand up but rolled to his side and then onto his back. He tried to stare at the ceiling, but a cloud of insects moved across him and blocked his vision.

"If you can hear me," he said, "say something."

He didn't have the strength to look.

He heard the voices come back to him: Servia, Faitrin, and Relm.

"Caesar?" Alistair looked in the giant's direction, using his uninjured arm to try to clear the insects away. Some had fallen to the ground, dying as their job was finished. The gigante lay on his back, cuts all over his massive body despite his armor. Insects covered him too, though not as many. It appeared that more had gone to the others, but Caesar's chest was moving up and down.

Alistair asked again. "Caesar, are you with us?"

The giant raised a hand and pointed the thumb up. Alistair smiled and turned back to the ceiling. They'd survived. Somehow.

Now all they had to do was attack a group of giants who could heal themselves.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Death must be easier than life.”

—Thoreaux

Manius wondered what he'd gotten himself into. He watched as five people cut down a group of thirty men plus artillery.

He understood that Kane had known the attack at the hotel was coming; one of his rivals had tipped him off. Still, Manius hadn't ever heard of anyone turning a gigante. The investment in one of those creatures was so much, any buyer went to great lengths to ensure the monsters thought their owner was godlike.

Now, though, after watching this man brutalize an entire battalion, Manius understood. This was no ordinary human. Even the gigantes’ level of violence couldn't match this Kane fellow's.

Now this barely human creature was inside his fortress.

Manius might be prone to violence, but he wasn't stupid. He understood that what was happening now could not be contained, only ended with finality. He could not keep people from talking about what had occurred. It would spread throughout the underworld, and his fortress would end up fair game for any up-and-comer who wanted to make a name for himself. Or at least, that was what they would think, but none had the abilities of the person Manius was watching.

He hadn't sent more men to fight yet because he wasn't sure he wanted to waste the resources. The men and women who lived in this fortress were more valuable than the ones on the street doing his bidding. They had been vetted and tested, and their deaths were a sum he didn't want to count right now.

He ran his right hand through his thick dark hair. This wasn't good. He knew what the man wanted: that poor soul who was almost dead. Manius couldn't simply give the Subversive to him, though, not after all this. Not after accepting the credits from that Hel bitch. He had gotten himself into something bad here, and the only way out was to unleash the gigantes.

He gritted his teeth. It was a risk—a big one. The dumb animals would switch sides if they saw this man fight. Nothing Manius had ever done could compare to someone who moved so fast and was so deadly.

Yet if he didn't release them, this killer would carve his way through the fortress. Could he get out, though? That was the question.

As Manius pondered that, he watched as Alistair Kane, former Titan, rose to his feet. Dead nanotech littered the floor, but his body had healed. He moved to the others in his group, all of them weak in Manius' estimation, and helped them up. Even the gigante rose to his huge feet, though he looked worse than the rest. That healing tech had taken it out of the creature.

"No," Manius whispered as understanding dawned on him. He cursed himself for not seeing it earlier; he'd been blinded by his belief in the gigantes’ stupidity. He had never thought such betrayal possible—their minds simply weren't made for it. Kane and his crew were walking toward the gigantes' lair. The killer had come for his friend, but first, he would steal Manius' army.

The decision had been made.

He had to unleash everything, all at once. Every man, every creature. He could not allow Kane to take the gigantes. The whole fortress would fall.

Manius stood and left the room, attendants rushing to his side. He told them what to do. He would lose every man in this fortress before he lost his empire.

Alistair grabbed Caesar, who was worse off than anyone else. Alistair, for his part, felt only tingles where he'd been injured. The giant had no obvious wounds since the insects had healed him as well, but he looked a lot weaker than Alistair.

"Are you okay?" the Fallen Titan asked.

The giant stopped walking and looked at Alistair. He dropped his eyes to his feet after a moment, appearing to think, then answered, "It is like when you lose blood. It weakens the body."

Alistair nodded, understanding. "Can you go on?"

The giant chuckled. It sounded like two metal barrels banging together in the bottom of a well. "You are strong but not very smart, master. I serve. I must go on. I have no choice. I cannot let you go and remain here."

Alistair took a deep breath. "If we survive this little rendezvous with your old pals, I've got a lot of teaching to do." He took his hand off the giant. All he could do was command him to stay here, but he needed the beast. They had survived this far only because of him. "I want you to conserve that nanotech when we start fighting again. You can't use it indiscriminately anymore, not if you want to live."

"Yes, master," the gigante said as he turned to look down the hall.

The lights had been shut off, and the SkinSuits were practically useless now. They'd taken so much damage during the last firefight that the night vision no longer worked. Alistair's hood wouldn't even retract, so he'd used the Whip to cut it off. His eyes could see a bit in this darkness, and it appeared Caesar might be able to as well. Those behind them couldn't, however. Alistair’s Whip and Servia's laser blade provided enough light to keep moving.

Caesar was winding through the corridors, leading them to the next battle. Alistair's senses were on point, and he didn't have time to consider what had happened to him. If he lived, there'd be time.

"Elevator is further down." The giant pointed, then knocked on a door to his right. "Stairs here. Which way?"

"Stairs," Alistair replied.

The group headed into the stairwell, which was also dark. They moved cautiously, but Alistair heard nothing. He didn't understand what was happening or why there was no attack coming. Whoever governed this fortress knew what was occurring, but they were silent.

Alistair kept descending as he spoke. "I think they're pooling their resources. It's the smart move to simply overwhelm us with everything they've got."

Faitrin spoke from the rear. "I’m still owed a lot, and when we get Thoreaux back, I plan on collecting, Pro."

He couldn't see her face, but he heard the mirth in her voice. "If we get Thoreaux back, you can be in charge of this whole damn thing."

"Not what I want, boss," she shot back.

Two more levels down, Alistair froze. What had once been a door was a melted heap on the floor, still holding some of its heat. A still burning Whip lay on top of it, keeping the metal warm. The color told Alistair who owned it, and he scanned the landing area for her.

There she was, lying on the floor with her head turned almost all the way around. Her eyes were open, and her face looked shocked. Hel vi Thraxus was dead. Alistair didn't know who had killed her, but it took great strength to turn her neck a hundred and eighty degrees.

I’ve got to find Thoreaux, Alistair thought, but he had to calm down. He couldn't go searching for Thoreaux yet. He would die and do no one any good, plus they’d lose the gigantes.

Relm walked over to the corpse and spat on it. "Good-fucking-riddance."

"Stay focused," Alistair said. "Caesar, where are the rest of your kind? They behind that door?"

In one motion, Caesar stepped over the melted door. He didn't say anything for a second but stared down the darkened hall. After a moment, he said, "They're not here."

"What was that, broth?" Relm asked. "You're saying your buddies aren't here? The ones we almost died trying to find? Am I hearing you right?"

The giant took a step into the hallway. He shook his head. "They've been moved."

Alistair hopped over the door and stared down the corridor. He could see doors on either side, though they probably led to cages rather than rooms. All of them were open. Caesar wasn't lying, which changed things drastically. Alistair understood. They were pooling all their resources, including the gigantes.

They'd figured out what Alistair was trying to do.

Anger rose in him. He had felt that emotion only rarely in his life, but this time it threatened to take him over, this rage at everything that had happened to him so far. Not self-pity but fury because what he wanted was very simple: to see his wife again. Yet every step he took toward her, something knocked him back.

"Fuck it." His voice was almost a growl, the rage propelling him forward. "Where are they, Caesar?"

The rest of the group stepped into the hall, concerned about the anger they saw on Alistair's face.

Lights flashed on, causing everyone to shield their eyes for a moment. Alistair turned and faced the other side of the hall. He knew what was coming.

A voice spoke from unseen speakers. "You'll find what's left of your friend in the yard."

The lights at the far end of the hall where the cages were located went out. Only the opposite side remained lit. Alistair didn't look around as he spoke. "Do you know where the yard is, Caesar?"

"I do," the giant answered. There was no fear in his voice, just resolution.

"Take me to it."

"Yes, master."

Alistair no longer cared about the odds they were facing. He no longer cared about death or even those around him. Anger fueled him, rage like a supernova. His only thought was that someone had to pay for him losing his wife and his life and being out here in a cold universe fighting the cruelest humans he'd ever met.

Anger moved him down that hallway. Someone would pay.

The yard was a quarter-kilometer away, and a set of double doors stood open. Alistair had figured this was a training center beneath the ground, to keep unwanted eyes from seeing these massive creatures while keeping them in shape.

Alistair stopped before he reached the doors.

The crimson of the MechSuit told him all he needed to know. His protégé stood on the other side of the open doorway, not in the yard, but in the hall. His Whip was at his side, the three strands twirling.

His helmet retracted into his neck, revealing his face. He had retained the boyish looks he'd been famed for as a young man with a gift.

"Everyone else stay here." Alistair walked to the doorway but did not step through. "Are you ready to die?"

"Can I be honest with you, Odin?"

"That's no longer my name," Alistair responded, his anger unabated.

"It's what I know you as. If I’m honest, I'm tired. I stole your kill back there; I'm sure you saw her. She deserved worse, but I'm not the man who can do it. Once you see all she did, I think you may hate me for stealing that death from your hands, but maybe you're tired too." The young man looked at his metal-booted feet. "I don't know. I don't know much of anything anymore, Odin. My father told me years ago that if I had the choice between being the best at something and being a good man, I should choose the latter. I remembered much of what he told me for so long, but I forgot that."

He stopped talking but didn't look up.

"What are you saying, Ares? You and your government have chased me to the ends of the universe. I'm here because of you. My friend is in that yard with giants and the gods know what else. Do you want me to kill you now before I go in there and get my friend back? If you're not here to die, then I have no idea what you're doing."

Ares blinked. "Maybe I could have been better than you in some other universe, one where all this didn't happen." He didn't sound like he was talking to Alistair but to himself. " I wonder if I would have been a good man? I don't know. I'm tired of doing the bidding of evil men. Of men who would let something like that bitch down there loose. There's no honor in that. I was a part of burning a planet to ash in my search to be the best, and there was certainly no honor in that."

Alistair was frozen in shock. The tears in Ares' eyes welled, sparkling in the artificial light.

"Have you seen what's in there?" Ares asked, meaning the yard.

"No." Alistair didn't know what was happening, but he watched as Ares picked up a DataTrack leaning against the wall. He touched the screen and a holocam came up, showing what they were about to face.

Alistair heard someone gasp behind him, then Relm's voice reached his and the giant's ears. "Caesar, broth, how good are you at math? You said there were twenty of you. What I'm looking at is multiplied by ten."

Alistair's mind immediately counted. There were over two hundred gigantes standing shoulder to shoulder in the yard, holding dual laser blades.

To the sides and behind them were another hundred men and women, each holding some kind of weapon, from MechPulses to those webs he'd seen at the hotel.

Floating above it all, chained to a chair, was Thoreaux.

His head lolled on his chest. His eyes were swollen shut, and he was missing flesh across his broken body. A bone was sticking out of his arm. Alistair couldn't tell if he was awake, only that he wasn't dead. Not quite.

He raised his head and looked at Ares. The tears were gone, but he still showed sadness.

"You asked if I came here to die, Odin. Maybe I did, but I'd rather not die at your hands if it's all the same to you." Ares put the DataTrack back down. "I was there when all that happened to your friend. Not in the room, but I heard his screams. The person who did it is dead, but that's not good enough for me. I'd like to go in there and die trying to free him."

Alistair didn't know if he was being lied to. There was no one around Ares, no one behind him that Alistair could see. "If I walk through first, are you going to cut me down?"

Ares gave a soft laugh. "You aren't in any position to walk through first. You're lacking the armor. I and that beast behind you should probably go first, then you burst through us while we take the brunt of the action. The rest of the crew should spread out on the wall and fire into the crowd. There's not a whole lot we can do anyway."

A voice shouted from the yard. "COME, ALISTAIR KANE!"

He didn't take his eyes away from Ares as he spoke. "Caesar, you got all that? If he looks like he's going to betray us, kill him."

"Yes, master," the giant agreed.

Ares raised an eyebrow. "That's true? He switched sides after seeing you fight?" He pointed to his right. "All those in there, if they see what you're capable of, they're going to turn as well?"

"That was the original plan," Alistair responded. "It hasn't gone as we'd hoped, as you can see."

Ares nodded, then let his helmet cover his head. He was a Titan in full MechGear, his crimson Whip at his side. "Let's show them what you're capable of, then." His metal head turned slightly to look at Caesar. "You ready, big man? I'm going to go high while you go low, and in the confusion, Alistair is going to rip into them. Sound good?"

Caesar looked at Alistair, who was considering this. They needed Ares, but if he turned on them? They would most likely die without him. Caesar couldn't heal them as he had before, and they were facing multiple enemies. Ares could give them a needed distraction since his gear could take a lot more damage than anyone else’s in the crew.

"Servia," Alistair asked, "what do you think?"

She laughed. "Pro, I've been wrong about almost everything, or at least at odds with you. I'll follow you with whatever you decide. Ave, Prometheus."

"Come on," Ares said through the suit's speaker. "Let's fight one last time together." He flashed on his HUD.

Alistair looked at the floor, then closed his eyes and saw Luna's face. All of this was for her, or at least it had been. Now, his friend floated above a crowd of warriors, disfigured and probably dying. It wasn't just for Luna anymore because part of it was helping Thoreaux. Getting him off that godsdamn chair and into a medbay.

He looked up. "Ave, Ares."

Hail, Ares.

"Ave, Odin."

"Caesar," Alistair instructed, "you and Ares go bring them death. I'll be right behind you."

The AllMother sat kilometers away with her eyes closed. Obs was at her feet, his heavy body against her leg for comfort and support. She was draining herself quickly, but she couldn't look away. She knew if something happened, she wouldn't be able to help, but she had to watch.

She'd seen the insane flight into the tower. She'd watch the massacre of those in the tunnel, the floor still lined with the dead. She'd watched the shootout that should have killed those she loved, and now she saw this reunion in her mind's eye.

She tried to see inside the Titan's mind, to see if he would betray Alistair. It was too much, though. She was too old and weak to see from so far away.

She would have to trust Prometheus’ instincts.

Fate had brought them here, and her child Thoreaux was suffering. The team she'd assembled, the family, only had each other. She couldn't help them.

Fate would have to carry them to victory or doom.

Ares had fought beside Alistair his entire adult life. He'd known the man's habits, his style, his dislikes, yet the man he was fighting next to now wasn't the same. The man now known as Prometheus was a terror on the battlefield such as humanity had never seen.

Ares knew Alistair didn't trust him. Maybe Ares shouldn't trust his former friend either, but he was beyond that. He had no doubts about what they were walking into—most likely a brutal death. If it was at Alistair's hands or the underworld killer’s, what did it matter? All he truly cared about was restoring his honor, even if only a tiny bit.

He'd turned on his friend because he'd been commanded to.

He'd helped burn a planet to ash because he'd been commanded to.

He'd traveled the universe chasing the man without asking why because he'd been commanded to.

He'd witnessed the torture of an individual and done nothing.

Ares had forgotten the last lesson until now, and as he walked forward to step onto this new battlefield, he wondered what his father would think of him. Would he believe him evil for the things he'd done, or would he be proud that Ares had found a different path? Would he think him foolish for throwing his life away in this battle?

Maybe one day he'd get the chance to ask him. Probably not, but possibly.

Right now, he wanted a chance to right his wrongs as best he could.

He stopped next to the giant, and they looked out on the killing field. More giants as far as Ares could see, all of them huge the way planets were. "Let's do this, big man."

He started the jets on his boots and flew into the air as the giant rushed across the yard, screaming with rage.

Alistair watched Ares take off. The Titan had attached his Whip to his belt and pulled out two StarBeams. He fired with the easy skill of someone who had practiced such moves for countless hours. Heads exploded as Ares floated above them, using the jets on his boots to position himself.

The enemy fired at him, but he zigged and zagged, eluding them while countering their fire.

Caesar had nearly reached the group of giants, and the rest of Alistair's crew had spread out on the walls. They maintained a good distance between each of them as their pulses and beams hit the crowd.

Prometheus stepped onto the field, his face and body covered in blood. Some was his, but most of it was from others.

He started forward, his feet pounding on dirt that had been brought in for training. His eyes strained forward, taking in everything at once. This was his chance to change the tide of the battle. He had to convince these giants that they could not kill him, and he could not be killed.

Caesar was ten meters from the mass of monsters when he dropped to a knee, shaping his back like a ramp into the sky. Prometheus understood what to do. He reached the giant in seconds and ran up his back, then leapt off the giant's shoulders.

Ares turned in the sky so the two faced each other, Pro having leapt high enough that his head had reached the Titan's foot. Ares pointed two StarBeams at his face, and for one awful second, Prometheus thought he was dead.

Ares aimed both StarBeams below Alistair and started firing.

You son of a bitch, Prometheus thought with glee. The bastard had been toying with him. He looked down at the space that opened up as giants tried to dodge the beams. Insects were starting to flow from their hands, a black horde beneath him. Prometheus hit the ground in a crouch, his Whip's tentacles floating above his head.

His Whip gave him a reach of five meters, and legs detached from bodies as he spun. Screams rang out, and more insects rushed into the air. The nanotech from his enemies was creating a cloud for Prometheus, helping hide him from those who wanted to kill him. He didn't know what was happening outside of this crowd or whether his friends were dying. He could see nothing but the giants around him.

Those he hadn't cut down charged over their dying compatriots.

Prometheus had a brief second before they fell on him. He closed his eyes and let his body take over.

Ares watched from on high, barely able to keep firing due to what he was seeing.

The rest of the battle, including those on the wall and the giants at the front, had ceased to matter. Everyone knew where the battle raged—beneath Ares.

Alistair fought like a madman, a storm unto himself. The giants swung their laser blades and dove at his body. Those that did touch him could only do it for a second as he dodged and wove through the crowd. His Whip was like a red ghost, only there for a second before snatching someone's life away. Ares didn't understand the flying insects that were swarming, but they provided Alistair the cover necessary to create this havoc.

Ares kept firing, shooting through torsos, heads, and anything else he could hit.

Someone finally tagged him where it mattered—in his boot heel where the jet resided. It didn't malfunction entirely, just the jet, but he zigged in the wrong direction.

Ares was going down; there was no way to stay up. "ODIN!" he shouted through the speakers. "MAN FALLING!"

The former Titan looked up, understanding, and started to clear a path.

Ares kept firing all the way down, and before he hit, he freed his Whip from his belt.

Pro's sky cover was gone. He saw Ares falling, his remaining jet managing to slow the descent, and knew that he had to make room for him. The gigantes would rip him apart if he fell on top of them, Whip or no.

Prometheus slashed, spun, and jumped. The enemy’s insects flew in front of his face, a swarm larger than he could have imagined. He felt them scrape his skin, creating light cuts as he pushed forward.

He was finally directly under Ares. Prometheus stuck his arm out and kept spinning in a circle. Heads rolled from bodies, but before Ares touched down, Pro halted.

They knew this dance. They'd done it so many times that no communication was needed. They found each other’s backs, faced opposite ways, and started to fight. Monstrous square heads appeared and disappeared. Blades and fists sliced at them and were detached.

"DUCKING!" Ares shouted and Prometheus reacted, spinning his Whip where Ares' head had been moments before. A body hit the ground as Ares popped back up and Prometheus dipped down.

Another body dropped, then both were standing again.

"THERE ARE TOO MANY!" Ares shouted, and Prometheus knew it was true. They couldn't hold them off much longer. No matter how many they killed, more came, and those who were only injured were rapidly being healed.

Prometheus had to do something. The giants' bloodlust had to be stopped, and they had to see him as the most dreadful force ever born into this gods-forsaken universe.

A laser blade caught Ares in the stomach, burning through the metal gear. He slashed at the arm wielding the blade and sliced it off, but the damage was done.

He fell to a knee and coughed blood into his helmet.

The arm and blade still stuck out of his stomach.

"I'm hit," said a watery voice from his suit's speaker.

Pro looked over his shoulder. He'd never seen Ares in that position, on the ground and dying. He could see no other allies.

A blade sliced down his back, cutting through flesh and tendons.

Death had finally come for the great Prometheus. His Whip, his strength, his speed—none of it was enough. Even fighting with his protégé, he hadn't been enough.

A blade cut across his thickly muscled thigh, and Prometheus went to a knee.

He looked down at the ground.

He closed his eyes.

He saw Luna.

He felt the laser blade touch his neck.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“In some ways, I am my father.”

—The AllMother

The AllMother saw blood spring from her chosen one's back.

She watched as he swung his Whip, laying another one low. The Titan in crimson was on the ground, dying, a blade and arm sticking out of his stomach.

A laser cut through her chosen one's leg, and he went to the ground. The AllMother saw it all with her eyes closed.

Alex felt no fear. She alone knew she still had tricks up her sleeve, things that only one other knew about. When she was trapped on the dreadnought, she’d thought it might be time, but it had turned out not to be.

Now was the time, and it would bring a host of new dangers, but she'd known long ago what it would take to achieve her goal.

The only other person in the universe had been the man who modified Alistair. The work he'd done could have killed the former Titan, but Alex had kept the faith. She'd known she had chosen correctly.

Now was the time. It had to be, or all was lost.

Using the rest of her mental strength, she shouted at Alistair, Now! Become!

There were three people on the wall, all of them firing endless shots into the mass of people.

Relm was severely injured; plasma had blown off half his shoulder.

Faitrin and Servia were still moving, still shooting, but they both knew the battle was lost. Caesar was still fighting, though one of his arms had been shattered. Ares had fallen from the sky and was lost from view.

Servia couldn't even see Prometheus, and above it all, the man they'd come to save floated on a chair, eyes swollen shut and body broken.

They'd lost. Servia kept firing. Her StarBeam overheated in her hand and burned her flesh, but she didn't stop. She wouldn't stop until she was dead.

Servia aimed, then paused. She felt a wind, which shouldn't be possible, not in this underground stadium. No weather could make it this far down.

Her pause only lasted for a single moment because there was an explosion in the middle of the crowd. She didn't know if it was wind, fire, or earth, only that giants and other people rose into the air. They flew off their feet and rose five or ten meters in the air. Some smashed into the top of the stadium, bending metal and breaking their necks. Servia felt herself rise too, and she slammed into the wall behind her.

The force held her there, pushing her arms and legs against the wall. She dropped the StarBeam. Dead bodies rose into the air, as well as dirt and dust—everything but one person.

Prometheus was on one knee in the middle, looking at the ground as if nothing was happening around him.

Bodies slammed into the wall next to Servia, and she heard their bones crack. Bodies rolled across the ground. Everything was moving away from the center of the stadium, away from the man who was somehow causing it.

Prometheus stood, his red eyes staring at this new world. Blood dripped from his body.

Servia’s bones started to creak. He was going to kill them all. Whatever he was doing, it was too much. He had to stop.

"PRO! HELP US!" she shouted into the wind roaring past her.

The man with the red eyes blinked.

Everything dropped. Servia fell to her hands and knees, then looked up. Prometheus was marching forward, looking for someone among the wounded and dead. Servia was having a tough time catching her breath. The pressure had knocked it out of her.

She tried to scramble forward but fell on her stomach, so she lay flat while she watched Prometheus. He stopped above the Titan in the crimson MechSuit, then bent and picked the man up, something that was impossible for a regular human.

He carried the dying Titan to one of the giants, and Servia heard his cry from across the stadium.

"Heal him!"

The giant was lying on his back, but he slowly rolled over and got to his feet. He could have pummeled Prometheus, the man still holding the Titan.

Instead, the giant said, "Yes, master," and placed his hand on the dying Titan's stomach.

The insects flowed from his hand and latched onto Ares.

Epilogue

Alistair kept mostly to himself over the next week, although he checked on the wounded in his party to make sure they were healing. The gigantes had done the best they could in the yard. Not a single one raised a fist to Alistair after he'd done what he'd done.

They followed his commands and healed his wounded as well as theirs, though at that point, they were all his. The humans who survived were granted life. All the fight had gone out of them. Out of everyone, including the underworld leader.

He, the man named Manius, understood that any war was now unwinnable. He faced extermination, so at that point, he offered his help to Alistair. The medbay was open to them, the medical droids available, and his crew was given a place to stay. He just asked that when they left, they told a different story than what had actually happened.

Alistair didn't give a damn about the story. He wanted to rest.

The AllMother and Obs were brought inside the fortress, but Alistair didn't visit the old woman.

He remained with Obs in the quarters assigned to him. He knew what had happened. He had heard the AllMother shout in his mind, then felt something entirely new. His mind had attacked. It had seen everyone as an enemy and ripped forward without caring. His mind had done what it took to protect him.

It was a power Alistair didn't want. He didn't understand it, and it had almost killed those he loved.

At the end of the week, he went to the AllMother. He'd kept tabs on her, having Servia update him from time to time on what was happening outside his quarters. Alex had rested a lot and now acted like nothing special had happened. She didn't seem disturbed in the slightest.

Servia, for her part, was awestruck. She didn't mention it, but it was in the way she moved and the way she spoke, as if Alistair had changed from the man who had arrived here.

He didn't mention it either. He wanted to wait until he spoke to the AllMother.

Alistair didn't knock, just entered and shut the door. She was sitting in a chair and staring out a window on her right.

"Did you know I was coming?" he asked as he put his hands on the back of the only other chair in the room. It was pulled up to the left of hers.

She nodded.

Alistair sat down. Neither said anything for some minutes, then he leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "Did you know what you were doing to me when you modified me? Did the man who did it know?"

The AllMother nodded again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Alistair's voice sounded desperate. "Why didn't you give me the option to decide if I wanted it?"

The AllMother remained quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was calm. "I've taken a lot of chances with you, Alistair. This whole endeavor has been a very large chance, and I couldn't see around the corners. I had to trust myself and you. You will never realize the lengths I went to to get to know you before I met you."

She folded her hands in her lap and continued looking out the window as she spoke.

"I understood what you'd do to get back to your wife: almost anything. I wasn't sure you would accept the power you now have, though. I thought you might deny something that great if you knew the truth." Her eyes found his. "I would have been right, wouldn't I?"

Alistair met her gaze but said nothing.

She finally looked back out the window, and the room was silent once again.

After long seconds, he said, "I should have been given a choice."

The AllMother nodded. "You should have been. As should I have been. Evil for evil. Perhaps it will cancel out everything that's happened. That is my hope, anyway."

Alistair sat there staring out the window with her, a new expanse having opened between him and the old woman. A new bond had formed between them as well. Only the two of them had this power that had been forced on her a thousand years before.

Now it had been forced on him.

Alistair stood up. "I'll never be like you," he told her.

She nodded, showing no emotion. "I hope you never have to decide, Alistair. Truthfully."

Alistair hadn't seen Ares since the yard. Servia had kept tabs on the Titan and given Alistair updates. The giants and the medbay had healed him, and the other Primus had remained at his side almost the whole time. Alistair had learned her name was Veena back on the dreadnought. From what he understood, she had said she would never fight on the Subversives’ side, but she would wait for Ares to do so, assuming he lived. Well, Alistair didn't understand everything that had happened between them, but he knew they were never going back to Earth.

At the end of the week, they were ready to leave this planet. They had no interest in staying on it any longer.

Alistair went to their ship. The woman was carrying a bag onto the small transport that would take them to a larger ship that waited.

Ares saw him coming and set his bag on the ground.

He met Alistair ten meters from the ship.

"I don't know what to say," Alistair told him.

Ares grinned. "Me either."

"I know what you told me back at the yard, but what about her?" Alistair motioned with his head at Veena.

Ares shrugged, his grin dropping as he looked at the woman. She was leaning against the transport's door, watching them. Ares turned back to Alistair. "When the curtain's pulled back, it's impossible to unsee what's behind it. I think we both saw what we'd become if we ignored it."

"Where are you going to go?"

Ares sighed and looked at the sky. "If I learned anything from all this, it's that there are a lot of worlds out there. I'll find something to do, and if you don't die during this little insurrection of yours, maybe I'll end up back on Earth."

Alistair had not asked him to join the cause, and he was sure Ares never thought about signing up. He'd done his deed, almost died for it, and now for the first time in his life, he was free to do whatever he wanted.

Ares shoved his hands in his pockets. "You'll have some time now, but I'm sure you know that. Hel didn't say a word to the Commonwealth about where we are, and she disabled the tracking devices on the ship we used. They're going to search for you, I'm sure of that, but you’ll have a chance to get your legs under you. You've got that little army of giants, too."

Alistair stuck his hand out. "I hope I see you again, Romulus."

The young man took the older man's hand and shook it, smiling. "I don't. You bring a lot of stress with you nowadays."

The last person he had to see was the hardest.

Thoreaux.

Faitrin hadn't left the man's side since they'd pulled him out of that chair. Alistair thought he knew that she was going to ask on behalf of Thoreaux sooner or later. She knew it wasn’t time yet, though. Healing had to happen, and not only the physical kind.

The medbay had done good work on him. The bones were fixed, the skin regrown, and android appendages replaced the ones he'd lost. Physically, he was in better shape now than before.

Mentally?

Alistair didn't know.

He knocked on Thoreaux's door and Faitrin answered. Something had changed since Alistair knew this room was as much hers as Thoreaux's. "Do you mind if I talk to him for a minute?"

The pilot shook her head. "Not at all, Pro. We've been expecting you."

She stepped out of the room and left the door open for him. Alistair stepped in and shut the door behind him.

Thoreaux was sitting on a couch, staring forward. There were tears in his eyes. As Alistair watched, one welled and fell onto his cheek.

"I’m sorry," Alistair said, choking up too.

Thoreaux nodded, and more tears fell from his eyes. "Thank you."

Alistair blinked. "For what?"

"Faitrin told me what you did. She told me about everything you had to go through to get here and save me. Thank you."

The Fallen Titan didn't know what to say. "I…I'm so sorry, Thoreaux. I wish I could have gotten here sooner."

The dam broke, and Thoreaux began sobbing. Alistair couldn't hold back anymore; he rushed to the couch and dropped to his knees in front of his second in command. He grabbed the man's head and pulled it close to his, and they cried together.

Two soldiers in a war that had just begun, both understanding the horrors that had already happened and were yet to come.

Because this was only the beginning, and neither of them could quit. Not now.

The Written History of the Great Insurrection

When we read history, we often hear about the heroes. Their great deeds. Their happy victories.

That's why we honor them.

That's not what history is. It certainly isn't what this history is.

You've reached the end of the beginning. Through luck, daring, and brute strength, Prometheus beat back the Commonwealth. He recruited his new-age knights who would serve him until their death. He saved me.

He'd escaped his death, but his wife was still a universe away, and an empire still ruled.

We had our warlord, a being more powerful than any who ever existed before, and now it was time to assemble our army.

War was coming to Earth.

Prometheus Wakes

The story continues with Prometheus Wakes, coming July 13, 2021 to Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.

Pre-order today and have your copy delivered as soon as it publishes!

Author Notes - David Beers

April 6, 2021

The third book is done, and there’s only six more left to go.

This is the longest story I’ve ever written, and while I’m enjoying it immensely, the term epic does continually come to mind.

I’ve always wanted to write an epic, something that spans long periods of time and space. I think a lot of writers probably have that dream in mind.

I just experienced someone close to me die this past weekend, so I don’t have a lot to say right now—my mind is elsewhere and still thinking about all that needs to be done before she’s laid to rest. So, forgive me, and this short author’s note. Life comes at you fast, and right now I’m just trying to keep my head above water.

Thank you, as always for reading. I hope to see you in the fourth book. I know that I certainly need a break from life, and Alistair Kane is ready to give it to me.

-db,

Atlanta, GA, 2021

Author Notes - Michael Anderle

April 7, 2021

Thank you for reading both this story and our author notes!

Sometimes, we need a story where the action is stellar – related to stars not quality – just so we can escape from the confinement of our city, our neighborhood… hell, our own house.

I’m reminded that I’m often in my imagination so much that I can’t tell the difference sometimes between what I’ve thought about and what is a real memory of my own. The more stories I do or are a part of creating, the more the problem exists. It might be due to getting older, but I’m not ready to admit that possibility.

I’m sure lawyers would @#@#^ hate me. I swear I would suck with details if called as a witness.

Thank God I’m not an engineer.

Or a plane mechanic. If I was, this would be my story in a nutshell:

“Yo!” the pilot looked down at me from the hatch as I was closing up the housing on the jet engine.

I looked up, “Yes?”

“We good to go?”

I wave him off, “Make it happen, buddy!”

Walking off, I put my hand idly in my pocket and feel four nuts and bolts. I pull them out and wonder where they came from.

Turning around, I see the plane taxiing off. “Oh… crap.”

So, I have been singularly created as an amazing vessel to create stories where the only thing I have to worry about is the story at the moment, in the moment. Which is why between books, I lose continuity on the story and have to go back to my notes about the bigger picture.

And the character names.

While I realize that the author John Ringo will never read these author notes, I’d like to apologize for that time (while reading something like book 06 or so in his Ghost series) when I might have had a few unpleasant comments about forgetting what he did in book 02.

I’m sorry, and paybacks – or karma – has been a bitch to me.

I hope you have a STELLAR week! (Amazing, not related to stars.)

Ad Aeternitatem,

Michael Anderle

Also by David Beers

Nemesis

She's coming and no one can stop her...

An alien Queen, Morena, was removed from power and forced into exile. Doomed to roam space forever, with no hope of return.

Until a random party brings a man named Michael to her crashed ship. For the first time in millennia, Morena sees her salvation. First, in Michael … and then Earth. The perfect place to repopulate her species. And those already here? They can bow or die.

As Morena begins her conquest, can Michael warn the world before it's too late? Can anyone stop the most powerful force the world has ever seen?

Earth’s final Nemesis has arrived.

Don’t miss this pulse-pounding science fiction series! If you love thought provoking thrill-rides, grab this book today!

* * *

The Singularity

One thousand years in the future, humans no longer rule...

In the early twenty-first century, humanity marveled at its greatest creation: Artificial Intelligence. They never foresaw the consequences of such a creation, though...

Now, in a world where humans must meet specifications to continue living, a man named Caesar emerges. Different, both in thought and talent, Caesar somehow slipped through the genetic net meant to catch those like him.

Eyes are falling on Caesar now, though, and he can no longer hide. The Artificial Intelligence wants him dead, but others want him to lead their revolution…

Can one man stand against humanity’s greatest creation?

A don’t-miss epic science fiction novel that pits one man fighting for the future of all people!

* * *

Red Rain

What would you do if you couldn’t stop killing?

John Hilt lives The American Dream. His corner office looks out on Dallas’s beautiful skyline. His amazing wife and children love him. His father and sister adore him. John has it all.

Except every few years, when Harry shows back up. Harry wants John to kill people. Harry wants to watch the world burn.

Murderous thoughts take hold of John, and as flames ignite across his life, the sky doesn’t send cool rain water, but blood to feed their hunger.

If you love taut, psychological thrillers, grab Red Rain today and prepare to sleep with the lights on!

* * *

The Devil’s Dream

He'll raise the dead, at all costs...

Perhaps the smartest man to ever live, Matthew Brand changed the world by twenty-five years old. In his mid-thirties, he still shaped the world as he wanted, until cops gunned down his son on the street.

Brand's life changed then. He forgot about bettering Earth and started trying to resurrect his son.

Eventually, Brand's mind overpowered even death's mysteries; he discovered how to bring back the dead--he only needed living bodies to make his son's life possible again. Why not use the bodies of those who killed his son?

In the largest manhunt the FBI's ever experienced, how do they stop a man who can calculate all the odds and stack them in his favor?

Books By Michael Anderle

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