“Father is captured,” she says to me as she storms down the ramp from her smoking ship. She’s flanked by several Obsidian bodyguards in battle-scarred armor. A dozen Grays exit the shuttle behind them. Sun-hwa from Luna at their head. They’re all lurcher mercenaries, plain and dangerous. The tackal’s hunters. Sevro eyes them warily.
Around us, hundreds of ripWings and a dozen storks sit parked in the bay—large enough a place to swallow all of Lykos’s Common and her townships. Oranges clamor about the craft, preparing maintenance checks before the eventual invasion of Mars.
I greet Mustang with my own coterie—Lorn, Sevro, the Howlers, Victra, and Ragnar. Roque did not respond to my summons. I want to rush forward to embrace Mustang, but she’s in a rage. Spittle flying out of her mouth. Dark circles ringing angry eyes. Exhaustion pulls at her face.
“Pliny has begun a coup. He arrested my brother. My aunt is dead, and her children murdered along with six of our Praetors. More than twenty of my father’s bannermen have sworn new oaths of fealty. And we’ve lost control of the fleet.”
I ask Mustang if she’s injured.
“Injured?” She sneers the word. “As if that could matter. They killed my men. We came upon the Academy in stealth, and as soon as I launched my leechCraft toward the space station and the training ships, a Bellona fleet emerged from behind an
asteroid and destroyed every one of my leechCraft. Ten thousand men. Dead. They didn’t have to do it. They had enough guns on us that we could do nothing but surrender. It was merciless.”
“Sounds like Karnus,” I guess.
She nods. “And Pliny. They didn’t lead the Bellona on a goose chase. They led them straight into my operation.”
“Why didn’t Pliny just kill you?” Sevro asks.
“A man like Pliny craves legitimacy,” Lorn says from my side, nodding in greeting to Mustang. If she thinks his presence here strange, she doesn’t let on. “It’s his nature. He came to you beforehand, didn’t he?”
Mustang shares a disgusted look with my mentor.
“The Pixie had me put under guard in my quarters as he took my captured fleet to Hildas. During the journey, he came to me and showed me the holo footage of my father’s failed raid on Ganymede.” She shudders in anger. “And he said that though my house had fallen to ruin, he would not see my bloodline ended. The Sovereign and he had come to an arrangement. If he could provide her with peace, then she would provide him with position, legitimacy, and a prize of his choosing. So he batted his pretty lashes at me as my father’s ships burned on the holo and said he would divorce his wife and allow me the honor of taking his hand in marriage.”
I say nothing. The Howlers rumble discontentedly. “And your response?” Victra asks.
Mustang ignores her. “He said he always had his eye on me.” She reaches into her pocket, pulls something out, and drops it onto the floor. “So I took one of his.”
Sevro cackles with Harpy. Lorn makes a sound of disapproval.
Like he has any ground to stand on in matters of cruelty.
“It is good to see you again, Rage Knight,” Mustang says. “I’m sorry you were drawn into this. But we need you now more than ever.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
“Where’s your brother?” I ask Mustang, looking up from the eye.
“Captured. There’s more that should be said.” She glances at the Oranges and the Grays in the hangar. “In private.”
“Of course. We’ll continue in the warroom—” I begin.
“In due time, Darrow.” Grandfatherly concern spreads across Lorn’s face as he turns to Mustang. “My lady, you’ve been through a trial. Perhaps you should find rest and we could—”
The Howlers and I back away from Lorn.
“Rest?” Mustang’s voice rises. “Why would I need rest?” “My mistake,” Lorn says politely.
“Theodora,” I call. She slips forward. “Coffee, stims, and food in the warroom. Enough for ten.” I remember the two Telemanuses. “Make it twenty.”
She laughs accidentally. “Yes, dominus.” Theodora steps aside
to call her staff.
Mustang jerks her head at her ship. “tust going to let it sit there?”
“Chief!” I call to the Orange in charge of the hangar deck. Grease stains his beard. He saunters up, wiping burly hands on his orange greasers. “Put that ship out the airlock.”
“It can be salvaged,” the Orange says.
I look to Mustang. “Did you escape, or did they let you escape?”
“I don’t know. My brother was the one who saved me. His own ship was caught helping mine escape.”
The tackal is full of surprises.
“What if there is a bomb in it?” Sevro asks, staring at the ship uncomfortably.
“It won’t be a bomb,” I say.
“Pliny wants me still, and he wants Darrow for the Sovereign. But more so, he wants your fleet, Darrow. When it didn’t show up at Hildas, he must have realized that you’d been warned or that you were waiting for a code confirmation that he didn’t know.”
“And he figured if anyone would know where I was, it’d be you.”
“So tracking me is how he will find this fleet,” Mustang says.
Lorn looks back and forth at us. “When did you two discuss this?”
“tust now,” Mustang says, confused at the question.
Sevro claps Lorn on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’re not senile. They’re just odd.”
Lorn stares at Sevro’s dirty hand. The fingerless glove is covered with mashed potatoes and brown gravy. Sevro’s broad smile fades and he sheepishly withdraws his hand.
I turn back to the Orange. “Put it out the airlock. Fastlike.” He seems hesitant. Keeps rolling onto the balls of his feet. “Unless you’ve a better idea?”
He scratches his head, looking worried with all the Gold faces staring at him. The deckhands watch the exchange furtively.
“Out with it,” Sevro barks.
“Sure. Well, I could put it out the lock, dominus. Or, I mean, I could find the scanners and the radiated material, if they went that route. We got some clever nuts and bolts here. Could find ’em out, and I could put ’em all in a long-range scout, no problem. Might do nice to let Pliny’s hounds go barking in the wrong direction, yeah?”
“What is your name and world?” I ask.
“Dominus … uh.” He blinks heavily. “Cyther’s my name. Luna. Three girls. Wife works in the Center for Automotive Development, so we have—”
I cut him off. “Do this right and we’ll bring them to Mars and put them up on the Citadel staff, Cyther. You have ten minutes.”
“Yes, Sir!” He wheels to his men excitedly. I lead Mustang and my coterie to the lifts.
“Pliny said he killed you,” she whispers as we walk.
“Aja and a Bellona fleet waited for us, like we thought they would.” I grin sideways at her, then pull up my datapad. “Orion, take command of the fleet. I want us far from this sector before we have more company. Sevro, summon the Telemanuses. I want them in the … Sevro?” I look around for him. He’s loitering around Pliny’s eyeball some twenty meters back. We turn to look at him and he shumes his feet awkwardly.
“Can I …” He gestures to it. “What?” Mustang asks. “Can I have it?”
Mustang squints at him. “All yours.”
He scoops up the eyeball and jams it into his pocket, grinning merrily. He runs to catch up. “Collecting the set, hopefully.”
