Star Marque Vendetta [Chapters 4-6]

Hey peeps!

I'm still excited for the release, even while I'll sleeping most of the day, lol - I had dreams about Demarco and the ship. o.o

Hope you all enjoy!

CHAPTER FOUR

GENERAL LONE

Sawyer lifted an eyebrow. “Excited?”

“To be here with you? Of course.”

She half-smiled and continued to poke at her PAD.

My room—the captain’s quarters—was the largest on the Star Marque, but that didn’t mean much. Shaped in a perfect square, it held my bed against the back wall, a weapons locker, and a closet opposite that. I technically had my own shower stall, which was a disappointment. When I had been a starfighter, I would shower with the others, and that amused me in more ways than one. The position of captain came with a shadow of loneliness.

A koi fish floated down from the ceiling. Four bloated sacs of helium jiggled on his back, letting out a quiet toot, toot, toot, as he descended to head-level. The fish—Blub, as Sawyer called him—swirled around my shoulder, his mouth opening and closing in rhythm, like a heartbeat. I reached up and stroked his scales, admiring his shiny black eyes and the single red splotch of bioluminescence glowing on his forehead.

He had been genetically engineered for a specific appearance, like Sawyer with her red hair and gray-blue eyes, and while Blub’s nibbling of my short hair could get annoying, I enjoyed him well enough.

“You brought your fish for this?” I asked. “Are you sure you want an audience?”

I ripped off my tank top and threw it to the floor. Sawyer didn’t even look up. When I unfastened my belt, however, she stopped her work and glanced over.

“You giving me a show?” she asked.

“I hope you brought singles.”

“I do like a man with scars.”

Her comment almost didn’t register. While I had run with gangs on Capital Station, I had avoided most injury due to my natural physical prowess. But after joining the Star Marque, I had run into a few scraps even I couldn’t skate through. A large scar, smooth and straight, ran along my side, right between my ribs. It was deep, and had been given to me by a plasma rifle while I had guard duty on Vectin-14. I had lived through the injury, but because I had exited the healing vat early, I’d never be without it.

I kicked off my boots and yanked off my pants. Sawyer, her face pink, lifted both eyebrows and returned her attention to her PAD.

“Oh, you are excited.” She sighed. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not why I came here.”

“Don’t lie,” I said as I knelt on the edge of my bed. “We could’ve met in your workroom or in the officer’s lounge if this was going to be chaste.”

“Perhaps I wanted to speak with you in private. I have things I need to discuss.”

Blub let out another toot, toot and dropped to the blankets of the bed. I pushed him aside and scooted over to Sawyer.

“Let’s hear it then,” I said.

“General Lone is on Vectin-10.”

I waited.

The person who had created Sawyer and Blub, the man who had “owned” her before she had joined the Star Marque, was none other than General Lone. I had never met him, but I already knew I despised him. He was a classic superhuman, the kind who flaunted his power over others in ways only properly described as heinous. A man who looked down on others for their genetic inferiority.

A small part of me knew he lived on Vectin-10—this was where Sawyer had grown up, after all—but I hadn’t considered the fact that us being here would affect her.

“It’s a big planet,” I said. “We won’t be running into him.”

Sawyer held up her PAD. She had a list of assignments for enforcer ships, including calls from government facilities. Half the assignments came from Tyndall Space Base, located near the capital.

“That’s him,” Sawyer whispered. “If we stay here… we’ll be working for him one way or another.”

“Just because the asshole has assignments doesn’t mean we have to take them.” I scrolled through the list until I found something interesting. Then I flicked the paper-thin PAD screen. “Look at this. Bounty hunting. That’s more up our alley anyway.”

Blub squirmed around the bed, wrapping himself in my thin blankets. When he couldn’t escape, I yanked him free and released him in the air. He twirled, confused, until he bonked into the wall and regained his bearings.

I returned my attention to Sawyer. She remained on the edge of my mattress, her legs tucked tight up to her chest. I positioned myself behind her, amused by our difference in size—she must’ve weighed a third of what I did. Whereas I had muscle to spare from years of weight training, she could’ve been made from paper and straws.

It didn’t matter much to me. I wasn’t picky, and I knew how to be gentle.

“What will I have to do to get your mind off him?” I asked, my breath on her neck. “I have lots of ideas.”

Sawyer closed her eyes and bunched her shoulders at the base of her neck. “Don’t act like it’s that simple.”

“It could be.”

She stood and held her PAD close, her body trembling. “Goddammit, I thought you understood.” After a few deep breaths, she continued at a steadier tone, “You’ve seen what he’s done to me. This isn’t something I can forget. He carved it into me, Demarco.” Sawyer pulled the collars of her jumpsuit higher, hiding her freckled skin. “He… carved it…” Her voice wavered.

“You said you liked a man with scars,” I said as I rested back on the bed. “Maybe that’s how I like my women.”

“This isn’t the same,” she murmured. “I’m disfigured.”

Disfigured? What an odd word choice. Had he messed with her that bad? I hadn’t actually seen her naked, so I didn’t know. All I had seen was a little bit beyond her collarbone, and just from that, I knew she had hundreds of scars along her body. General Lone had to have been a sadist of the highest caliber if he could bring himself to hurt someone like Sawyer.

But now I understood why she had wanted to talk in private. Sawyer had never told this to anyone. As far as I knew, I was the only one on the Star Marque who knew her history with the general. Endellion had been the one to save her back in the day—no one else had been involved. Sawyer wanted to keep her history as private as possible.

“I don’t want us taking assignments from General Lone,” Sawyer said. She didn’t even turn around—she kept her back facing me the entire time.

“Fine,” I said. “I already said we won’t.”

“Even though he could pay us well?”

“We can get pay elsewhere.”

“So… So just like that?” She glanced over her shoulder.

“What? Isn’t this what you want?” I shrugged. “Or do you want me to fight it?” I tucked my hands behind my head and stretched out across the cool sheets.

“Endellion would have—”

“Fuck Endellion,” I snapped. “I don’t give a shit what she would’ve done. If anything, that only makes me more certain. It’s my crew, and I won’t upset and betray them over some credits.”

A long moment of silence passed between us. What would Endellion have done? I knew. She would’ve taken the highest paying job and rolled with it, regardless of anyone else’s concerns. And although Lysander had accused me of becoming more like her, this was a line I knew I wouldn’t cross.

Sawyer retook her seat on the edge of my bed, her presence barely disturbing the sheets or mattress. She poked at her PAD for a few minutes before scooting closer to me—never looking at me for longer than half a second, her face still pink.

“You said you wanted to hire more enforcers and officers,” she muttered. “I found you places and people, if you want to look at them.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Eh.” I exhaled and stared up at the ceiling. Blub floated by a few times before I said, “Fine. Toss me my shirt and pants. We can get some work done.”

“You don’t need to get dressed.”

I shot her a sarcastic glare. When she offered nothing else, I smiled to myself. If she wanted to be a voyeur, that was fine. Who wouldn’t want some of this? I was a good lookin’ man.

“Show me who you found,” I said.

Sawyer held up her PAD and scrolled through the lists. The most expensive personnel were at the top, with squads of mercs listed as single units for hire. It made sense to hire entire teams for ground enforcement. They had already trained together and trusted one another without any additional investment. If I hired individuals, I would need to give them additional training to get them up to snuff. Then again, Lysander was a fantastic instructor. He always made sure all the ground enforcers knew their shit before going into the field.

I scrolled through the list until I came to individuals and scoffed at the first guy who had an asking price of half a million credits for a year of service.

“What does this asshole bring to the table?” I asked with a laugh. “Can he turn lead into gold and resurrect the dead? Because that’s what I’d expect with an asking price that high.”

“He was an officer at the Ares Military Base,” Sawyer said as she pointed to his credentials. “And he was the coordinating administrator for a fleet of ten starships. This is the kind of guy we would hire once we command multiple starships.”

“Multiple?”

I hadn’t considered the possibility of adding more ships. Wasn’t the Star Marque enough? Not if I wanted to handle larger assignments. The Star Marque could hold a crew of 250, and if I pushed it, maybe 300. Not enough to handle city-level enforcement.

“Well, we can’t afford him, or the next ten guys on the list,” I said.

“You want a legitimate commander for your starfighters, right?” Sawyer pointed to a woman with an asking price of 200,000 credits. “She’s had several engagements with rebellion fighters, and she has ten years of experience running on enforcer ships.”

I sat up, held Sawyer’s arm close so I could get a good look at the list, and huffed. How the fuck did anyone run a starship with these kinds of numbers? If I hired three more officers, I wouldn’t have enough credits to pay the crew.

“Endellion didn’t pay Lysander this much,” I said.

“That’s because Endellion revealed to the Navy HSN Corps that he had a genetic defect so he would be dishonorably discharged. When he thought he had no other prospects for employment, she swooped in and offered him next to nothing.” Sawyer tapped the side of her head. “That’s what Endellion did with everyone. She either found them at their lowest—”

“—or orchestrated their fall,” I muttered. “I remember. But that’s not what I want.”

“There’s nothing wrong with finding people at a low point. You don’t need to be the one who destroyed their livelihood.”

I scrolled to the bottom of the list, wondering if I could be so lucky as to find someone worthwhile among the chumps and schmoes of Vectin-10. To my surprise, the people listed at the bottom had an asking price of zero credits. Did they want to work for free? What did that even mean?

Sawyer must have read the confusion on my face because she said, “Those are people who either want an apprenticeship, have taken themselves off the market, or who have died.”

“Why would someone take themselves off the market?” I asked.

“Medical problems. Too long without work. They got in trouble with the law.” Sawyer shrugged. “Lots of reasons.”

“Does that mean they’re actually free?”

“They’re not slaves. And if they’re alive, it means there will probably be a problem with recruiting them straight away, but I suppose you could always talk to them.”

Fantastic. Now I was bargain hunting for officers. Then again, I needed bodies more than anything else. I could train up people or fire the ones incapable of improving.

I stopped scrolling the instant I recognized a name. Cai Qi. It was short and distinct enough that it clicked in my memory. He had been on Capital Station on more than one occasion, each time on the trail of some high-profile criminal. No one in my gang had wanted anything to do with him—he was a bounty hunter extraordinaire. And that sounded right in line for my new crew.

“Is this guy dead?” I asked.

Sawyer poked his profile. “No.”

“Then why is he listed for zero credits?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t say.”

“Find him for me,” I said. “We’ll hire this guy to be our ground commander.” And if we went after a bunch of bounty assignments, I could get my money’s worth out of him.

“Cai Qi, huh?” Sawyer asked. “I remember reading about him.”

“Even you’ve heard of him?”

“It’s odd a bounty hunter like him would be looking to join an enforcer starship,” she said. “He worked freelance before, hunting individuals. I guess we’ll find out why soon enough.”

Blub floated into Sawyer’s lap, his fins and mouth moving slower than before. The little fish was tuckered out, and he rolled onto his side when Sawyer went to pet him. I patted my own stomach and cocked an eyebrow.

“You could always pat me, Sawyer. You wouldn’t even need to get undressed. I could lie back, give you all the access you want…”

“So generous,” Sawyer said, her tone dry. “I’ll keep it in mind.” She stood, Blub in her arms. “But I need to find Cai Qi. Maybe some other time.”

CHAPTER FIVE

CAI QI

“Cai Qi must’ve made a lot of money if he once had a home planetside,” Noah said.

I shrugged. “He rented. It’s not the same as owning property.”

“Still impressive. My father was a commodore for the Federation Navy HSN Corps, and he never rented property planetside.”

“I bet you and Lysander lived in a posh station home,” I said with a forced laugh. All the military guys did. Unlike on planets, the living quarters on a space station were cramped—unless you had connections. Then it was like having a mansion in space.

Noah walked next to me, his plasma rifle held loose in his hands. The narrow corridors of Trinity Station kept him close. Although he was younger than Lysander, I swear he stood a few centimeters taller. Maybe he had grown. I didn’t remember him always being taller.

“I grew up comfortable,” Noah said. “But I’d give that all up to have the genetic modifications you have.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Definitely. No doubt in my mind.”

He said it so full of confidence, I almost laughed. But then I remembered—he was a defect. The membranes inside his body deteriorated under physical stress. That must’ve bothered Noah’s father. I had never met the man, yet I could already tell. The HSN Corps had the worst anti-defect sentiment in the whole galaxy. They were the Homo Sapiens Corps, after all. They wanted perfect humans, free of abnormality, to stand side-by-side with superhumans. If Noah and Lysander had a father deep in HSN ranks, he no doubt had the same mentality.

“So, where does Cai Qi live now?” Noah asked.

“Sawyer said he’s at a port stop.”

Port stops were basically taverns on space stations. They were tiny tin cans packed together near the starship ports, most of which doubled as brothels. Not the kind of place someone made their residence.

Noah faced me with a raised eyebrow. “Did you ever live in a port stop?”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “I may’ve been some thug on Capital Station, but that doesn’t mean I was scum. I always had enough credits or friends for proper sleeping quarters.”

“So, port stops aren’t proper? Like, people aren’t supposed to live there?”

“Not unless you’re a whore.”

“Cai Qi is a legit bounty hunter, right?” Noah frowned. “There’s no chance he switched careers?”

I didn’t answer. Sawyer hadn’t found much information on Cai Qi. All she knew was he had once lived planetside, but five months ago he had lost his home and taken up residence on Trinity Station, the space port connected to Vectin-10 through a space elevator. His address had switched to a port stop. That was the same time his payment on the employment registry had gone to zero. Had something happened? But a man as talented as Cai Qi shouldn’t have had a problem for long. Five months living in a port stop was the equivalent of giving up on life and sleeping in a dumpster.

Why not just get another job?

When Noah and I approached the address of the port stop, the corridors of the space station got narrower. And grimier. The denizens were chem addicts, the food from the hot plates would barely pass for edible, and the whole area smelled of rotting meat, no doubt from the shoddy cybernetics that were decaying inside the cyborgs we passed.

No one bothered trying to stop and sell us anything, probably because Noah and I wore enforcer enviro-suits. If we had been wearing casual clothing, we would’ve been bombarded with all sorts of bullshit—anything from knockoff PADs to blowjobs.

The port stop we wanted, amusingly named The Last Stop, had a red sign mounted to the bulkhead of the Trinity Station. Noah motioned to the arrow, and we followed it to the entrance—a shitty door with a heavy lock and an ancient computer terminal.

Noah stuck close, never lowering his weapon, like we might get into a fire fight at any second. He even tapped his fingers along the side of the grip, his whole demeanor jittery.

“Relax,” I said. “You’re making me nervous.”

“My brother says this is the kind of place where your organs get stolen.” His voice sounded more robotic when filtered by the helmet of his suit, but still shaky.

“No one is going to jump a pair of enforcers for their organs. Get your shit together.”

“What makes you so positive?”

“Because I wouldn’t have stolen organs from enforcers,” I said with a chuckle. “If I needed a liver or a kidney, I would’ve gone after some runaway teen, passed out drunk, or cracked-out-of-his-mind chem addict. They’re a lot less trouble to get, and not many people will come investigating afterward, if any.”

I tapped the control panel for The Last Stop and the door opened, but it took a good five seconds, and the hinges groaned the entire time, like an old man trying to get up in the morning.

I stepped inside and came face-to-face with a counter covered by a mesh wire barrier. Some fat cyborg with a tiny mustache sat behind the wire. He had a pipe between his lips, which explained the smoke hanging in the air. The whole place smelled of oil and burnt meat, but that didn’t bother me.

“Can I help you, enforcer?” the cyborg asked. He had a rasp to his voice that lowered his tone by a few degrees.

“I’m here to see Cai Qi,” I said as I stepped into the place. “Should be in Room 27, if my records are correct.”

“Cai doesn’t have any warrants for his arrest.”

“I didn’t say I was here to arrest him, Tin Can. I’m here to hire him.”

The man sucked on his pipe for a moment. His cybernetics were centered around his collar and chest, giving him an even bulkier silhouette than his fat. His arms, tattooed from the elbow to the neck, had a visible bit of muscle, and it made me wonder if he used to be in good shape, but then he had some operation that had rendered him sedentary.

“Let me scan your ID chip,” the cyborg said, holding the pipe with his lips while he spoke.

I slid my arm under the grate barrier. The counter, while seemingly innocuous, lit up as it scanned the area between my ulna and radius. A screen mounted on the wall brightened with my information, including my title.

The cyborg stroked his blond mustache. “Captain, huh?” He poked at the counter, as if typing on an invisible keyboard, and another screen came on next to me. It highlighted the communication system for Room 27. “Cai,” the cyborg said. “You awake?”

Several seconds passed with no response.

Then a crackle sounded through the building’s comms. “What is it?” someone responded with a weak voice.

“An enforcer captain is here to hire you.”

A single laugh sounded over the comms. “No captain is looking for me.”

“I checked his ID,” the cyborg said. “It seems real.”

“Those can be faked, old man. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“It says he’s the captain of the Star Marque, though. You think someone would be ballsy enough to fake that position?”

“The Star Marque?” Cai asked. “The one on the news?”

On the news? I almost cut in to ask about the fame, but I held back. It no doubt had to do with Endellion, and I didn’t want to talk about her right now.

The cyborg let out a puff of smoke and shrugged. “They look the part, Cai. Fancy enviro-suits. Kat-Tec Rapid-Shot plasma rifles. Want me to send them up?”

“No,” Cai responded. “We can talk through the comms.”

“This is a private matter of employment,” I said.

“Jack can be privy to the discussion,” Cai said with a cough.

“I’d prefer if we spoke in person.”

“I’d prefer people to leave me the fuck alone, but it looks like neither of us will get what we want.”

Noah scoffed. “Seriously?” he whispered. “What a jackass.”

I leaned against the wire mesh barrier, slightly amused by this guy’s lack of giving a damn. He wouldn’t get along with Lysander, which was a strike against him, but if his price was right, maybe Lysander could be brought around.

“I’m Captain Clevon Demarco of the enforcer ship, the Star Marque,” I said.

“So I heard,” Cai replied, his voice an odd mix of breathless and distant.

“I’m looking for a ground commander. I saw your name on the list of potential hires and I thought you’d make a good fit.”

“Why’s that?” Cai asked.

“You’re a bounty hunter, right? I intend on hunting down some known fugitives. Plus, I remembered your reputation from my time on Capital Station. All the thugs used to be afraid of seeing your name after them.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, you’re cheaper than some of the other fuckers I could hire. We have to balance the books.”

Cai laughed over the comms, but stopped after a couple of seconds when he started coughing up a storm. Once calm, he said, “Forget it. I don’t have time for cheapskates.”

“You don’t have time, period,” Jack the Tin Can Cyborg said. He inhaled on his pipe, blew out a long line of smoke, and shook his head. “You can’t afford to be picky.”

“You gonna kick me out?” Cai asked.

“Ya know I won’t. But I’ll have your corpse removed in one of those stink-proof bags once you’re done rottin’. Maybe hear these enforcers out.”

“I have it under control, Jack.”

“You don’t want work?” I asked.

“Not from you. Get out.”

Noah turned to me, his helmet nothing more than a one-way mirror that reflected my own confused expression. The moment I started thinking about Cai’s situation, I had a few theories.

“You have some sort of chem addiction or something?” I asked.

“What the fuck did I just say?” Cai growled. “We don’t have anything else to talk about.”

“Or maybe you got the wrong cybernetics?” I continued. “Those can really mess a guy up. And paying someone to fix a mistake can cost twice—no, three times—as much as the original surgery.”

No one said anything, and I knew I had hit close to the truth. Cai was likely having debt problems brought about by some sort of medical condition. And that was one of the worst places to be on a space station. Good doctors were hard to come by, and if you didn’t have credits, it was impossible to get anything done. Sure, Cai could go to one of the free clinics, but they were more likely to steal functioning cybernetics and organs and then replace them with junk rather than give actual service.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You’ve been out of commission because your last operation didn’t go so well. You probably tried to do some jobs to make some credits, but your condition is worse than you’re letting on. Those piece of shit cybernetic parts really take a toll on your stamina. And you probably lost the rest of your money fighting the new planetside laws. Or maybe you blew it on chem and hookers.”

“He’s real bad at dice,” Jack said with half a smile.

“Stay out of this,” Cai snapped.

I chuckled. “I think you’re overwhelmed and you’re lying low.”

“I’m not overwhelmed.”

“You sure?”

“Well, perhaps maximum whelmed,” Cai quipped. “But I’ll get through this.” He moved around on his side of the comms, causing a bit of white noise. “And it’s not what you’re thinking. Not entirely. I was huntin’ down some rebellion fugitives, and one got a clean shot on my hip. I went to have surgery—with a trusted guy—but the parts he used didn’t settle right. I didn’t know that until after they had taken their toll.”

“After you had already lost a ton to Briggsy and his crew,” Jack chimed in. “And after you paid off those other hunters who were lookin’ to take you in for evadin’ taxes.”

“Rough,” I said. “Your life sounds more like regret management than goal achievement.”

Cai snorted. “You can hike your happy ass out of here. I already gave you an answer.”

“Do we even want him?” Noah asked. Then he pointed toward the front door. “There are other people we could hire. More competent, too.”

No. I knew Cai Qi. He had caught tons of thugs and scum from all over the quadrant, including guys who jumped between space stations. He was plenty competent, even if this situation was dire. It reminded me of what Sawyer had said. I didn’t need to bring people to their lowest point, I just had to scoop them up when I had the opportunity.

“You’ve heard the reputation the Star Marque has?” I asked.

The fat cyborg lifted an eyebrow.

Cai replied with, “Of course.”

“I have a doctor from Vectin-14 on my ship. He specializes in all sorts of cybernetic parts, including the good ones the superhumans use on themselves.”

No one said a thing, but I knew they were all putting the pieces of the puzzle together. This was how Endellion would have sold it—she would show people the thing they wanted, and then offered them the route to obtain it. People liked routes. They liked having hoops and guidelines.

Most people were sheep, and they wanted a pat on the back whenever they did something right.

Even I had fallen for it back in the day. Endellion had offered me a way to a planet, and a way to turn my life around, and then she had told me exactly what I’d had to do to get it.

“Join my crew,” I said. “You agree to work for me for three years, and I’ll have my doctor fix you up with the best parts we can get our hands on.”

Noah fidgeted with his weapon, but he didn’t offer any input. He didn’t like Cai, but that didn’t matter. They wouldn’t be working together much.

Jack blew out a long line of his foul smoke. “Cai, you’re not gonna get a better offer than that.”

“Two years,” Cai said.

I smiled. “Two and half. You’ll be getting room and board on the Star Marque, after all. I need to get my money’s worth.”

“Fine. You have a deal. I’ll be your damn ground commander.”

***

“What condition is he in?” Dr. Clay asked.

I shrugged. I hadn’t actually seen Cai yet. I had left Noah to help him pack and then returned to Star Marque to get everything ready. Couldn’t have been that bad.

The entire infirmary staff prepped for surgery. We didn’t have much medical staff—eight people—but that was enough to handle one operation. And I had the funds to purchase medicine or cybernetics for Cai, so this would ultimately work out in my favor, but I was still nervous. If Dr. Clay fucked this up, and Cai died, I would be out a lot of credits in medical supplies.

The Star Marque had a healing vat, and if Cai had gotten in one before allowing his injury to fester, this whole problem would’ve been much easier. However, the mother-cell fluid of the healing vats only sped up metabolism to ensure a quick recovery. If someone was scarred or the wound had become infected and then healed, the vats wouldn’t be helpful.

And they didn’t help defects at all. I doubted Cai was one, but I didn’t technically know.

The door to the infirmary opened. Noah walked in with a man hanging heavily on his shoulder.

Cai Qi—sweating from every visible pore on his body—held Noah like he would collapse if he let go for even a second. He wore a pair of cargo pants and a tight-fitting shirt, both of which were soaked with perspiration. Bandages around his gut poked out from under his shirt, the gauze yellowed and soggy. His black hair, scruffy beard, and bushy eyebrows were matted and crusty.

If Cai had said he had just escaped the morgue, I would’ve believed him. Although I suspected he normally had a honeyed complexion, all color had gone the way of his lunch.

Still, through all of that, he held himself mostly upright. He had muscle, and there was a PAD mounted to his right forearm. He also carried a plasma pistol on his belt, but I doubted he could shoot straight in his condition.

“You must be Mr. Cai,” Dr. Clay said, not a hint of surprise or emotion in his voice. “I’m Dr. Clay. Please lie here and I’ll examine you.”

Cai let out a long exhale as Noah helped him to the operating table. Although I wasn’t needed for any of this, I stayed out of curiosity. Was Cai going to be okay? He climbed onto the table like every movement, even each breath, caused him a fair deal of pain. Once he rested back, he relaxed, but not much.

Dr. Clay used the table’s computer interface to start a scan of the body. It took a few moments, but then gave a readout of Cai’s entire physical structure.

“Subject has a comminuted fracture of his left ilium, two nonfunctioning bone-mounted cybernetics, and a severe nostra bacterial infection. Abnormalities found in the blood stream. Further diagnosis is required.”

“We’re going to remove your clothes,” Dr. Clay said as he tapped away at on the PAD mounted to his arm.

The nurses in the room gathered tools and materials. I stepped back, as did Noah, and allowed them to set up a small table next to the doctor. They pulled out a pair of scissors, and Cai grabbed the arm of the nurse, his grip tight.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed.

“I need to examine you,” Dr. Clay said, in the exact same monotone he had spoken before. “Please remain calm.”

“The fucking table said what was wrong with me.”

“The fucking table doesn’t have a medical degree, Mr. Cai. Don’t make me sedate you.”

“Damn you,” Cai said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want these scissors to touch me, not even for a second.”

“We will give you something for the pain.”

A nurse injected Cai in the shoulder before he had a second to react. He took in two breaths, and already, he rested easier. The first nurse cut at his shirt, then through his belt, then his pants, and finally through the bandages. A moment later, parts of Cai spilled out onto the table.

Cai’s skin had split open like ripped seams on a pair of pants. Bits of bone poked through the carnage, like his hip had exploded.

Dr. Clay took a scalpel and jabbed at a giant red bubble of flesh. A white, chunky substance oozed from the injury, like someone had hidden a tub of cottage cheese inside Cai’s wound.

I almost gagged at the smell of rancid milk. I took a step back.

What the fuck was that?

“How is it?” Cai asked, his gaze glued to the ceiling, his words strained. “Give it to me straight.”

“I’ve seen worse,” Dr. Clay said as he poked at his PAD. “Everything will be fine.”

“Even with… a severe infection?”

“I had feared you would have something untreatable. As it is, this will be a routine procedure. We’re going to put you under.”

A nurse moved in to administer the sedative, but Cai stiffened as though he would throw a punch, even in his weakened state. Would I need to hold him down? I had done it before—I could do it again.

“N-No,” Cai said. “I don’t want to go under. The doctors on the station said that bacterial infection w-would kill guys who went under. I want to remain awake.”

Dr. Clay shook his head. “Those doctors are butchers compared to me. When I say you need to go under, that’s the only opinion you need. And when you wake, the worst of it will have passed. Do you understand?”

His words, though lacking in any emotion, did seem to reassure Cai. The man closed his mouth and his eyes as the nurses went about their work. Within a handful of seconds, Cai fell unconscious.

“Clean this up,” Dr. Clay said as he motioned to the mess on the table. “In five minutes, I’ll adjust the cybernetics and then piece together his hip. After that, we can place him in the healing vat for post-op recovery.” He took a step away from the table and continued to work on his PAD.

Noah let out a loud sigh of relief. “Wow. You’ve really seen worse than that, doctor?”

Dr. Clay didn’t even look up when he shrugged. “Sure. Several times. On dead bodies.”

Both Noah and I caught our breath.

I turned to the doctor, my eyebrows at my hairline. “Wait. Is Cai going to be okay?”

“I sure hope so,” Dr. Clay drawled. “We’ll see, though. He was on the verge of death. A few more hours and he would’ve passed out, no doubt in my mind.”

“But… you made it sound like this was a normal problem.”

“I was lying.” Dr. Clay stopped his work and glared at me. “Did you see the way that man panicked at the slightest thought of operation? What he needed was someone to reassure him everything would be okay. I was that someone.”

“What about going under?” Noah asked. “He said it would kill him.”

“Our medication is better than what they have on Trinity Station. I wasn’t lying about that. But it will be a miracle if he lives.” Dr. Clay returned to his PAD. “Good thing for you, I’m a miracle-class doctor.”

Heh.

Damn. Dr. Clay had one hell of a poker face. I’d had no idea he had been lying about Cai’s chances on the table. I had thought he had it all under control. Actually, I would have preferred not to know the truth.

“Demarco,” Sawyer said over the ship’s comms.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“We have two urgent matters. First, an assignment came in to apprehend a rebellion starship. They’re paying five times the normal rate.”

“Let’s take it,” I said.

“Second,” Sawyer continued. “Someone is here to search the Star Marque.”

“Search it? Why?”

“They think a criminal is hiding aboard.”

“We’re not harboring any criminals.”

“I told them that, but… We’re not going to be able to tell her no. It’s a superhuman. And she has a warrant.”

CHAPTER SIX

VICTTRA BARTEN

“A superhuman is here to search the ship?” Dr. Clay said. He stopped typing on his PAD, his hand shaky. “What have you done?”

“I haven’t done anything,” I snapped. “Just focus on the surgery. I’ll handle the damn superhuman.”

My pulse quickened and my thoughts raced as I stepped out of the infirmary. The others watched me as I went, their eyes wide.

Superhumans didn’t lower themselves to such menial levels. They didn’t physically investigate things or sully their perfect hands with jobs that were classified as grunt work. So why would a superhuman come to the Star Marque? I couldn’t think of a logical reason. My theories all revolved around Endellion sending someone to fuck with us, but she would never chance the crimes of the Star Marque going public. That wouldn’t benefit her—so why was this happening?

I jogged down the corridor, my chest tight. I had told Sawyer we weren’t harboring a criminal, but we both knew that wasn’t true. We had helped Endellion kill millions, even if it had been unwittingly. The whole crew of the Star Marque, right down to the goddamn janitor, could be indicted for mass murder. We were the criminals.

I wiped sweat from my temple as I stepped onto the lift.

No one knew about what we had done to Capital Station. Except Endellion.

Was this warrant her doing? Had she sent people after me so I could be her scapegoat?

When the lift opened, Lysander stood on the other side. He gave me a formal nod and then motioned to the exit hatch. I took a moment to control my breathing before heading toward the exit. We went through decontamination, and then the exit lift lowered from the ship with a smooth swish.

I had expected a huge crowd. Superhumans didn’t walk around without their manservants and entourage, or whatever they called them. To my surprise, there were only three people waiting on the dock outside the Star Marque.

I held my breath the moment I spotted the superhuman.

She was… a little girl.

Well, a pre-teen. Maybe. I didn’t know superhuman ages very well. I knew they weren’t human, and I knew they progressed through life differently since they lived much longer, so I didn’t have much to base her age on other than normal human standards.

Still, what was this? Baby’s First Private Investigation?

The superhuman pushed back her long, silver hair and stared at me with gray eyes—her expression so hard set, it bordered on an accusing glower. Despite her youthful appearance, she still stood tall, similar to most superhumans, perhaps one and half meters. All superhumans stood out like blood on white linen, their posture perfect, their skin two-tone, and their hair metallic in sheen.

The two humans next to her, some burly guys with their enviro-suits fully up and plasma rifles held in their hands, didn’t have the same kind of commanding presence as the girl’s elegance and composure.

I gave one of her bodyguards a quick reverse-nod. “Did you lose the girl’s adult?”

“You will address me from now on,” the superhuman said with a snap of her fingers, drawing my attention back to her. “I’m the one in charge. Not them.”

The superhuman girl tapped on the collarbone of her own enviro-suit. Unlike the two men’s, her suit had black scales, reminiscent of a fish, and they shimmered with an inner technology I wasn’t familiar with. Her helmet hung loosely between her shoulder blades, like a hood, but the rest of it hugged her athletic frame.

Knowing a kid was in charge erased my building anxiety. I exhaled and offered her a smile.

“All right,” I said. “What can I do for the girl in charge?”

“Are you Captain Demarco?” she asked, no pleasantries in her voice.

“That’s right.” I motioned to Lysander. “This is my vice-captain.”

“Vice-Captain Jevons,” Lysander said.

The girl gave me the once-over. “My name is Victtra Barten. I have a search warrant issued from the Vectin Ministry’s Office to search the Star Marque for potential clues in a homicide investigation. I’ve provided your chief cyber operations officer all relevant information.”

She spoke like she was a 30-year-old wearing the skin-suit of a child. And her sentences had the hard bite of someone irritated by the information they had delivered. Or perhaps pained.

“Okay,” I muttered.

Superhumans were smart—too fuckin’ smart—even at a young age. They could perform complicated tasks even as toddlers, and it wasn’t unheard of for superhumans to handle investigations for complicated cases, even if it was their first day on the job.

Still, it was laughable that a pre-teen would be the one called in for a homicide investigation. Was it too tough for the local human authorities?

Lysander shot me a disappointed look before clearing his throat. “The crew of the Star Marque will do everything to aid you in this search. Can you tell us the name of the victim? And why you think the Star Marque would be involved in this tragedy?”

“The victim was my father,” Victtra said. “Emissary Kayllin Barten.”

“A superhuman?”

“Indeed.”

Wait. Emissary Barten?

My heart stopped as panic set in. Half a second later, I recalled all the terrible details. I had killed Emissary Barten. In cold blood. We’d had no personal connection—his only crime had been standing in the way of Endellion’s ambition. She had ordered me to kill him, and I had.

But…

There was a little girl who had seen me do it. I had been wearing a rebellion enviro-suit, but she had still seen. Instead of killing her—and removing all possibility of a witness—I rendered her unconscious and left. I had never thought a childwould hunt me down with a search warrant. I figured she would’ve been traumatized or given to some relatives to recover. That was what humans would’ve done—long years of therapy. Superhumans, on the other hand, obviously didn’t have time for any of that weak bullshit.

I stared at the superhuman, my hearing momentarily dulled as reality invaded my thoughts.

She had come to find me.

This wasn’t a random investigation—this pre-teen had taken it upon herself to investigate her own father’s murder. And being a superhuman, she could do whatever she damn well pleased.

“Investigators and bounty hunters alike have helped me piece together a series of complex contextual clues,” Victtra said. “I believe the Star Marque may have been involved in the escape of the murderer. All my reasoning, and authority, can be found in the warrant I provided.”

“Captain?” Lysander asked, dragging me from my thoughts. “Do you have anything to add?”

“No,” I replied. “Let her on the ship.”

There weren’t any clues to my involvement. Not on the Star Marque. Endellion and I had taken rebellion starfighters to meet Emissary Barten. We had killed him on Outpost Station. Nothing linked me to his death. Nothing.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Captain,” Victtra said. “You’re already shaping up to be a better host than the last starship captain I visited.”

She held her head high as she walked onto the entrance lift. Her silver hair, glittering in the artificial light of the space port, flowed behind her as she walked. Her two-toned skin, going from dark on the back of her neck, and wrapping around to be light on her face, glowed with a healthy sheen. Little black dots—holes, actually—lined her face on the side, near the ear and neck.

Her two thug bodyguards followed closely behind, their mirror-visors hiding their expressions. Lysander and I joined them as we returned to the Star Marque. And while I was certain she wouldn’t find anything incriminating, anxiety wouldn’t leave me.

If Victtra found anything, I’d be put down like a rabid dog. A human who killed a superhuman wouldn’t be allowed the luxury of a prison planet, especially when that superhuman had been a prominent emissary.

The moment we entered the main corridor, I motioned to our surroundings. “My vice-captain will show you around. I have other things to deal with.”

“Can I see the starfighters?” Victtra asked.

“Vice-Captain Jevons will handle it.”

“Miss Barten,” Lysander said as he stepped between us. “I can show you each starfighter individually. Why don’t you follow me?”

When she offered no protest, I took off toward Sawyer’s workroom. Technically, none of the crew even knew what I had done, so questioning them wouldn’t yield anything. The only two people aware of the assassination were Endellion and Sawyer.

The instant I stepped onto the lift, I said, “Sawyer, is there any way she’ll find something?”

Sawyer’s lack of immediate response added to my dread. Although death worried me, it wasn’t as bad as imagining Endellion getting away with everything. If I died, no one would go after her. That thought alone transformed my worry into rage. I wouldn’t allow her to get away with anything else. I wouldn’t.

“I don’t think she’ll find anything,” Sawyer murmured, as though deep in thought. “But then again, I would have said we left no trace of our involvement at Outpost Station. The fact that Victtra Barten is here says I might’ve overlooked something.”

“Maybe she’s desperate,” I said as the lift doors opened to Deck One. “The Star Marque wasn’t far from Outpost Station. Far enough for an escape, but we still could’ve been in someone’s scanner range, which would’ve put us on a list of places to snoop around. Plus, she mentioned another starship investigation.”

“You may be right. Emissary Barten was killed over eighteen months ago. Given the girl is traveling light, this could indicate that she’s lost support for a continued investigation. Still, you should be cautious. Her search warrant was authorized by Minister Ontwenty.”

Tsk. The second person I hated hearing anything about. Minister Ontwenty might as well have been Endellion’s handler. That superhuman bitch had betrayed us and forced Endellion into a tight spot.

Ontwenty was the one who had approved the search of the Star Marque? I wondered if she wanted us gone for her own reasons.

I walked into Sawyer’s workroom without knocking. She sat at her desk, no boots on, her legs crossed in front of her, her eyes glued to the screens mounted to the bulkhead. “Hello, Demarco,” she muttered as she typed away. The ship’s computer code—which was nothing more than thousands of lines of gibberish—slowly scrolled down the screens.

“How can you be so calm?” I asked.

Blub let out a toot, toot, as he floated down to greet me. I let him nibble on my hair as I took my position behind Sawyer’s chair.

“Nothing has happened yet,” she said. “Besides, I’m more worried about this rebellion ship we’re supposed to go after.”

I had forgotten she had mentioned that. “You don’t think we can handle some rebellion fighters?”

“It’s not that. The bounty for the starship’s capture is so high that I doubt we’ll be the ones claiming the prize.”

“What the fuck are we waiting for? The Star Marque is plenty capable of getting there first.”

That was the whole point of a vanguard-class ship. Our speed should have been unrivaled by other starships of similar size.

“We have a superhuman aboard,” Sawyer said. She spun her chair sideways to give me an odd stare. “She could take hours with her investigation, and we can’t even start tracking our target ship until we get to the sector of space where we can look for a plasma trail.”

Goddammit.

“Contact Lysander when he has a moment alone,” I said. “Tell him to get the girl off the ship. She can search it when we get back.”

Sawyer ran a hand through her disheveled red hair. “Are you sure you want to do that? She might get pissy.”

“Who cares? She’s, what, eight-year-old? She can order her guards to change her diaper while we’re gone.”

***

Before superhumans had been created, the United-Earth Government had run all four massive quadrants that made up the Cygnus Sector. Their mismanagement had led to in-fighting and wars, and more defects and cyborgs than ever before. Once superhumans had gotten their hooks in power, they had straightened things out, but in the most tyrannical of ways. The United-Earth Government had been dissolved, and the Federation had formed to take its place. The biggest difference: only superhumans could rule.

The rebellionwas just the leftover United-Earth faction—they were Homo sapiens who disagreed with the reworked Federation constitution and argued against superhumans’ control. I didn’t hate the rebellion, but they had tried to kill me enough times that I didn’t think well of them.

And now we had to run down a corvette-class starship under the rebellion’s control.

I poked away at the computer terminal in our deserted Central Data Room. All the information I could ever want was stored in our files, and I brought up the system schematics for corvette-class starships.

The bounty for capturing our target was outrageous. The bounty for destructing it… not so much. Apparently, the passengers on the starship were more important. We needed the rebellion officers alive. Which meant we needed to incapacitate the starship if we wanted the payout. Once I had a plan, I could send it to the other starfighters, and we could practice in our simulation pods.

Sawyer said it would take us eighteen hours to reach the section of space where the starship had last been seen. It wasn’t much time, but enough to get some solid formation training in.

While sifting through the information, my thoughts drifted. For a distraction, I tapped on the ship’s comms and sent them through to the infirmary.

“Dr. Clay,” I said.

“Yes, Captain?” he replied, somehow sarcastic, even though we hadn’t said much to each other.

“How’s Cai?”

“He’s been placed in the healing vat. The recommended amount of rest is eleven hours, but I set the machine for thirteen. After that, I suggest he get eight to ten hours of sleep. If all goes well, he should be back to 100%.”

“There weren’t any complications?” I asked. I couldn’t get the image of Cai’s ruptured hip out of my mind. The guy had looked like man stew.

“Oh, there were plenty of complications.”

He offered nothing else.

“Thanks,” I said. “For making sure he lived.”

No response. I switched away the comms, almost irritated I had reached out. Sure, I had gotten the answer I wanted, but Dr. Clay had all the lovability of a smelly corpse. At least Sawyer would joke with me, even when making official reports.

I pushed away from the computer terminal, anxious and hungry. When I opened the door to head for the mess hall, I flinched back. Lysander stood by the door’s computer terminal, poised to open it himself. Next to him—to my shock and irritation—was none other than that superhuman girl and her two bodyguards.

“What—” I began.

“Hello, Captain,” Lysander said. He motioned to the girl. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be showing our guest to the central database.”

Victtra greeted me with a slight bow of her head. “How are you, Captain Demarco? You seem surprised.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I’m sure you have a lot on your mind.”

“Yes. I do. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at your travel logs.”

I motioned to the Central Data Room. “By all means. I hope you find your answers.”

Most people never picked up on my insincerity when I wanted to lie to them. A part of my genetic modification involved heightened pheromones—chemicals produced by my sweat pores that affected the behavior of others around me. It was a slight influence, but it usually got people to be more trusting, or attracted to me.

The way Victtra looked at me, however… It was like she already knew my terrible secret, and my simple lie had irritated her. The expression faded in half a second, though. Perhaps I was paranoid and seeing things.

“Thank you,” she said.

Victtra and her stooges walked past, not a word between them. I allowed them by, but when Lysander went to follow, I grabbed him by the upper arm and shoved him into the hall. Then I closed the door to the Central Data Room, separating us from the superhuman.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I asked. “I thought you were the guy who gave me a lecture about insubordination or some bullshit. Isn’t defying my direct order against your military programing?”

Lysander jerked his arm from my grip. With a sneer, he said, “You obviously didn’t read the supplemental information she provided with her warrant. If I had kicked her off the Star Marque, she could’ve gotten an arrest warrant—and then we wouldn’t be working at all, now would we?”

I opened my mouth to offer a retort, but I opted to remain silent.

“I tried to contact you,” Lysander said through clenched teeth. “But apparently you had my comms blocked.”

Oh. Right. I had forgotten. That was from the day he had kept making a series of gripes straight to my personal comm. I still hadn’t enabled him to speak directly to me.

Lysander exhaled. “Fortunately, Miss Barten said she could conduct her investigation while we flew to our destination.”

“We’ll be entering combat,” I said. “You told her that, right?”

“When I told her we would be apprehending a rebellion starship, she practically jumped at the idea of watching us work. We have passenger quarters, you know. Endellion would often take individuals from one station to the other while performing her duties as an enforcer.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Lysander shook his head. “Really? That surprises you?”

“Listen. I don’t care. Just keep an eye on the superhuman. I’m sure we’ll also get in a lot of trouble if she’s hurt.” I rubbed at the back of my neck and then stared at the ceiling. “And don’t ever be alone with her. Got it? No one on the Star Marque should ever be alone in the same room with her.”

“Is everything okay?” Lysander asked.

“Yes.”

Then he stepped closer and lowered his voice. “We didn’t have anything to do with Emissary Barten’s death. Right?”

“Of course not, Sanders,” I said with a smile. “What makes you think we would ever be involved in shady activity like that?”

The question lingered between us. Lysander didn’t answer. If anything, he grew tense as he stepped back. What did he want me to say? I sure as fuck wasn’t going to tell him what had happened. He didn’t want to hear it, and I didn’t want to relive it.

This was better forgotten.