Jaheed

There was, surprisingly, an armed delegation ready to meet them. Twenty-four soldiers in Madriu blue-and-yellow stood at attention with boxy las-rifles in hand — yet all seemed almost paltry in comparison as Jaheed's entourage descended the gangplank.

There was Ket Sal, who had long perfected the art of dripping malice and palpable contempt. There was Diesch, who had an ion shotgun slung over his back and that old las-revolver displayed prominently on his hip. And then, by far most importantly, there was Ammit — who currently had her massive Ker-sot hefted over one shoulder. Ordinarily it was considered faux pas for a Se-dai to display their True Weapon so casually; it was only with great cajoling that Jaheed and Ket Sal convinced her to do it now, for effect if nothing else.

And have an effect it did, for every one of the soldiers were now exchanging nervous glances at the sight of that gargantuan weapon. They had no doubt seen the news reports and footage of the Se-dai warrior whose hammer had rendered devastation upon the city streets, who had left craters in the asphalt with each and every titanic strike. It didn't take a genius to figure out that las-rifles would be a pittance against something that.

"Acolyte Vell." One of the soldiers stepped forward, gave Ammit a momentary glance before quickly looking away. "We're to escort you inside at once."

"Good," came Jaheed's simple reply. "Get on with it, then."

And so ten minutes later the four of them were sitting in a windowless, stark-white room dominated at its center by a synth-wood table, Jaheed's people on one side and a pair of uniformed men on the other. Ammit loomed above them all, her hammer now resting like a cane against the floor. A sentinel and judge both, observing the proceedings with every one of their lives in her hands.

"Mind if I smoke?" Ket Sal asked — and then, before anyone could answer, he produced a thin blue cigarette and began to do just that. All remained entirely silent and still as Ket Sal lit, took a drag - and blew a cloud of smoke right across the table. And then, finally, one of their hosts lost his patience.

"Honored Scion," the left one blurted out. He was a young, smooth-faced man with long hair and pale complexion. "I'm Controller Terenesos. This is my associate, Governor Qrax." The governor, by contrast, was a portly man with a bushy mustache and beady, piercing little eyes, who merely folded his hands and observed as the Controller continued to speak. "I'm going to be frank, gentlemen. You violated Arvozan airspace. You threatened one of my subordinates into granting you entry. Your associates-" he gestured to, one could only assume, the streets below, "-caused dozens of deaths and millions in property damages. Have you seen images of the aftermath, Honored Scion? I have. It looked like a void-damned warzone down there."

"And now you've bullied us into this meeting," Qrax added. His voice was a gravelly, rasping register.

"Precisely," Terenesos agreed. "So, I'll just come out and say it — gentlemen, I'd very much appreciate it if you got to the point."

"Uh huh," Jaheed just nodded, watching them both. Taking their measure. Calculating. And then, without further ado, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

"Ammit," he ordered. "When I stand up, kill them both."

The reaction was immediate. Terenesos all but leapt to his feet, face locked into an expression of panic, while Qrax just leaned back and narrowed his eyes. Of course, never in ten thousand years would Ammit have obeyed a command from the mouth of any other than Ket Sal — but the helmet masked her expression, and in all regards stoic silence was the same as confirmation.

"Are you mad?" Terenesos shouted. Jaheed was almost disappointed to see the young man's composure shatter so quickly. "You cannot possibly-"

"Sit down and shut up," Qrax snapped, glaring at Jaheed all the while. "They won’t hurt you. This crude pageantry is all part and parcel for the jackals of Mercury."

"I only wanted to make clear the depths of my displeasure," Jaheed explained calmly, as though this were still a civilized and cordial exchange. Terenesos did indeed shut up and sit down, albeit with great reluctance. "And to properly illustrate the tools with which I might express that displeasure, were I so inclined."

"You've made our lives very difficult, as of late," Ket Sal chimed in, right on time.

"Terribly difficult," Jaheed agreed. "You've given your recounting of events. Might I give you mine?"

"By all means," Qrax deadpanned. Beside him, Terenos was still sweating buckets.

"My people were attacked by assassins of the Mondat Order and agents of the Hated Crimson Emir," Jaheed told them outright. At that name, Terenesos flinched, while Qrax's expression remained entirely still. The Jade Wolf found both reactions enormously interesting. "One of my bodyguards was kidnapped; the other outright killed. The perpetrators were men of a terrorist group known as Heraldry, now officially categorized by the Imperial Sonder as agents of the Crimson Emir."

"Nearly three dozen of them managed to infiltrate your city," Ket Sal noted. "Something of a security failure, that."

"The failure deepens," Jaheed went on. "When my ship, the Cloud Gorger, attempted liftoff, we were accosted at once by the Arvozan Naval Defense Force and ordered to remain grounded. As our lives were, at that moment, in grave danger, I transmitted emergency order six-three-theta-four — wherein a Highborn individual second-blessed or higher might be granted temporary impunity, until such a time at which the lethal danger had passed. I have a digital receipt confirming that ANDF Control received that transmission at hour seventeen-twenty-two. Your response, then, was to open fire, and my vessel was forced to evade both air-defense batteries and eight single-engine interceptor craft."

"We had nine outstanding warrants for the Cloud Gorger," Terenesos countered, having apparently regained his composure — or simply reciting from a script. The young man leaned forward, brushed the hair out from his eyes. "Protocol dictates-"

"There were no such warrants," Ket Sal interrupted sharply. "That's been thrice confirmed now by our man, Abel Diesch." The Black Hound inclined his head. "And that is something you both must certainly be aware of, which renders this entire exchange moot. No?"

"No," Terenos insisted. "Look, the error was ours — the ANDF fully concedes that. But it remains a fact that our system was telling us, in no uncertain terms, that your vessel was wanted by Arvozan law. That is the information I was presented with. A wanted vessel fleeing a warzone and broadcasting an obscure, little-used Mercurian order-code. I insist that the call I made was in accordance with Imperial Law and common sense both."

"You're lying," Jaheed said flatly.

"I am not," Terenos shot back, somewhat indignantly. "I know damn well what the system was telling me. I double-confirmed it myself."

"You're accusing the ANDF of colluding with this Heraldry." Qrax cut in, and Terenesos ceded the floor at once. The balance of power between them was quite visibly skewed. "Well, the ANDF is telling you — in no uncertain terms — that we, too, have been made victims of Heraldry's underhanded dealings. We have increasingly come to believe that our systems were hacked, in the wake of the attempted assassination."

"Is that so?" Jaheed glanced down at his wrist-comm, just momentarily, and from Diesch he saw two messages. TERENESOS DOESNT KNOW, read the first. And the second? QRAX IS IN ON IT. Abel Diesch, Jaheed thought to himself. The human lie detector. With him and Ket Sal by his side it was almost too easy.

"Then what became of the assassins?" Ket Sal demanded. "Four trucks fled the scene, while one was destroyed — where did they go? Who was driving them? And what of any survivors?"

"The matter is currently undergoing a closed investigation.” Qrax folded his hands. "Our own systems were recently compromised by these Heraldry terrorists, after all. I'm sure you'll understand our rationale in favoring discretion above all else."

"I understand," Jaheed told him, his expression darkening. He leaned forward, folded his arms on the table. Lowered his voice. "But I do not accept. Heraldry murdered my people — I want revenge. Heraldry stole my sister — I want her back. So you are going to tell me everything you know, governor Qrax, or this will cease to be a conversation and become something else entirely, instead."

"You have no right," Qrax hissed, matching Jaheed's dire tone with one of his own. "Your Se-dai is an empty threat. Under the five-hundred-and-thirty-third Precept, a minimum half-Crux is necessitated for the execution — or even bodily harm — of government personnel fifth-rating or higher. You have no crux, no evidence."

"I have your evasion, here and now."

"And you intend to document this?"

"Oh, most certainly," Jaheed confirmed. "There will be a detailed transcript of this entire conversation."

"Then I shall look forward to it," Qrax leaned back, watching the Jade Wolf through narrow slits. "But for now, Acolyte Vell, Scion Ket Sal, I must ask that you leave."

"Your continued presence constitutes a breach of security," Terenos added. "I'm sure you understand."

"Sure, are you?" Jaheed scoffed. For a moment, the tension between them was spreading like cracks across a thin sheet of ice — because Precepts be damned, Jaheed really did have their lives in his hands, and right now he was heavily inclined to use that power. But finally, the Acolyte sighed and signaled to Ammit with a raised hand. "Stand down," he ordered, rising to his feet. He noted, with no small sense of satisfaction, that both Controller and Governor flinched when he did so.

"Governor." Jaheed stuck out a hand.

"Acolyte." Qrax shook it. His palm was slick with sweat. He made to pull away — but instead, Jaheed squeezed tight and pulled him close.

"One more thing," Jaheed said, his voice going low. He felt the tendons jump in the Governor’s wrist. "You swept the scene of the crime, when all was said and done?"

"Of course."

"There was a sword, there, of mithril constitution. I want it back."

"That's evidence-" Terenos started.

"I thought you might," Qrax said, instead. "It will be waiting by your shuttle when you depart — as a gesture of good faith, blessed Acolyte."

Jaheed flashed him a quick, sardonic little smile. "Good faith, indeed," he agreed.

"Heraldry must have paid them a fortune," Ket Sal remarked, minutes later, after Jaheed had accepted the cloth-wrapped weapon and the four of them had boarded the Gorger once more. "I can't believe they're still knuckling down, even after all this."

"Qrax is, anyway," Diesch corrected. "Terenos is ignorant — I'm certain of it."

"You believe the story about the hacked system, then?" Jaheed arched an eyebrow.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Sure, why not," Diesch shrugged. "But Qrax knew about it. That's a fact. And today, he was clearly prepared for a fight."

"There's no doubt that Tsen's escape has been covered for, then," Jaheed noted wryly. Thus far, Diesch had uncovered not a trace of Jiang Tsen's existence on Madriu — the man was a ghost, a shade that had perhaps never existed at all. By all appearances he had merely emerged from the ether to throw Jaheed's life into chaos and then simply vanished once more, subsumed in the mist from whence he came. "He's already long gone."

"Ah, but there's always a trail," Diesch reminded, holding up a mechanical finger. He glanced somewhat eagerly between the two men. "I got a hit on that vehicle ID."

"Do tell," Ket Sal leaned back in his seat, folded his hands. Jaheed, too, sat up with his chin resting upon a slender fist.

And so, Diesch did indeed tell. And twenty minutes later, the Cloud Gorger landed at a western-district hangar bay, and ten minutes after that Jaheed was standing with Scion and Se-dai outside a sleek, needle-nosed shuttlecraft — Ket Sal's personal vessel, the Extricator, impounded in the wake of the assassination-attempt and now cleared once more for takeoff. It was by all means more form than function, the opposite of the Gorger in every way — though it could still outpace the Gorger in voidspace and realspace both.

"You're certain this will work?" Jaheed asked. Behind them, Ammit was wheeling Sekhmet's haelen-pod up the Extricator's spindly ramp, and over Ket Sal's shoulder was slung the dead woman's sword.

"Not at all," Ket Sal told him honestly. "It's a hell of a stretch — a friend, of a friend, of a boyfriend of one of Maít's old roommates. She had to dig deep for this one, let me tell you." He shook his head. "Still. She'll be meeting me there — she purchased the fastest shuttle money could buy, just for the occasion."

"Is she flying it herself?" Jaheed arched an eyebrow. The Scion gave him a smug, self-satisfied grin.

"Incredible, isn't she?" Ket Sal remarked. "How'd I get so lucky?" Then, his smile dropped, and his expression grew somber as he clasped Jaheed on the shoulder. "We'll do everything within our power to save Sekhmet," he told him. "Everything. I owe that woman a great debt."

"I know," Jaheed told him, clasping his arm in return. "No matter what happens, Ket, know that I'm grateful."

"Ah, it's nothing," the Scion waved a hand. "You sure you're gonna be alright? Just you, Diesch, and Tarsus?"

"I've got a bit more than that at my disposal," Jaheed smiled. "I'll be fine. Thanks again, Ket."

"Don't mention it." The Scion stepped back, gave the Acolyte a two-fingered salute. "Hey — drinks with the whole crew, when all’s said and done?"

"Count on it," Jaheed called. He and Diesch watched in silence, then, as the Extricator rose without a sound and glided away, leaving only rippling and shimmering air in its wake. He turned to Diesch, then, and his expression was all but entirely devoid of emotion.

"Got an address," Diesch told him. Jaheed nodded.

"Let's roll," he said.

----------------------------------------

Kore

Everything hurt.

Which wasn't an entirely unfamiliar sensation for Kore, as her job entailed taking a great deal more punishment than the average office-worker. One of her primary functions, after all, was literally intercepting las-bolts for Jaheed, and in four years she had taken a dozen shots doing just that. But this pain, however, was quite a bit different. And nothing hurt quite like the unfamiliar.

She felt arthritic. Her joints ached, her bones throbbed dully. Her headache was omnipresent. There was a fog over everything, as slightly muted effect to sound and sight both. And she was bitterly, bitterly cold. Worse was that, for the first time in four years, Kore had finally given a moment to sit back and reflect. To look back, to really take stock of all she had done and all she had become. And she was realizing, with no small distress, that she no longer recognized herself.

Chief Kore Vell. The tall, black-coated sentinel. The powerful woman who exuded violence, who killed with not an ounce of hesitation. And by the void, she had killed a lot — by shotgun blast, by disruptor bolt, by melt-knife and with her bare hands; with broken necks and crushed throats and skulls slammed into concrete. She had thumbed a man's eyes out and felt satisfaction at the high-pitched wail that followed. She had felt satisfaction at all of these things, in truth, the satisfaction of one who knew they were doing their job well.

When had it happened? When had she transformed from Kore, a simple miner who had never wanted for much and never spoken an unkind word, to this? And again, Tsen's question was bouncing around in her skull — who had she actually helped?

She was in a rather miserable state, then, when Jiang Tsen appeared at the bars of her cell. She hadn't heard him enter; much was escaping her notice these days. She didn't even know how long it had been since his last visit, for the days blended together like water.

"You know," Tsen said, apropos of nothing. "I invested a great deal into you."

"You wasted your fuckin' time," Kore spat, between clenched teeth. She forced herself upright, groaning in pain all the while, and when she was finally on her feet she was also panting heavily from exertion, her heartbeat stuttering like the tapping of nervous fingers. She ran a hand over her face, wiped the sweat away. Made herself focus, as best she could.

"I disagree," Tsen looked her over, from head to toe. "Look at you. A terror to behold, even now. Right-hand woman to the Emperor's protégé." He tapped the side of his skull. "I pride myself on an eye for talent."

"You ruined me," Kore accused him, not for the first time. Tsen frowned.

"I didn’t ruin anything," he said. “I just recognized what was already there.” And slowly, reluctantly, Kore was forced to nod her head in somber agreement. It just took too much energy to lie.

"I don't know when it happened," Kore muttered, more to herself than to him. All the while, the pain was like a constructing vice around her chest. "When I turned...into this. When Jaheed..." She shook her head, not wanting to say it. "He's changed, hasn't he?" She blinked, swallowed, look away — suddenly ashamed. "I didn't even notice." This was all stream-of-consciousness, all rolling out from her mouth amidst a delirious haze.

"Because you were changing, too," Tsen said, with surprising empathy. He took a step closer. "Because you molded yourself into something hard and dangerous. You put on a mask because you had to, to survive. To be safe. It's all any of us ever want, isn't it?" He nodded sagely. "We all just want to be safe."

"She-" Kore blurted out, suddenly, and then there were tears in her eyes. "She's dead, isn’t she? Sekhmet’s fucking dead."

"She is," Tsen agreed. "And I'm sorry about that."

"You're right. I should've left," Kore told him. She closed her eyes and prayed for this all to end; opened them and saw that it all remained exactly the same. "She would have followed me anywhere. I was keeping her right where she shouldn't have been."

"Jaheed used you," Tsen agreed somberly. Empathetically, even. "And you used Sekhmet, in return. You were only doing as you were taught. Only acting in accordance with the mask he had given you."

"That's no excuse," Kore shook her head. "I'm-I'm-" she looked down at her trembling hands. "I'm just another fucking murderer," she declared, with terrible finality. "One more piece of shit in a universe packed to the brim with ‘em, that’s me."

"You can't help people," Tsen told her, gently. He wrapped his fingers around the bars of her cage. "You can't make the universe a better place. You just don't have that bone in your body, Kore. But you could still do something worthwhile. The Emperor-" his hands clenched tight, "-has the entire universe in the palm of his fist. People are so miserable that they don't even know it. Their brains repress it, force it down, for there is simply no other recourse available to them. No way that they could possibly alter their situation. But you, Kore — you could do something about it. You could help."

"The Crimson Emir wants only death," Kore countered wearily. "Death and death and death, until there’s nothing left. That's not freedom. That's-"

"The omnicide stops at the inner ring," Tsen insisted. "I can't prove it to you, Kore, but ask any ranking Sky-Melter officer and they'd tell you the same. Ask that patchwork bastard, Wren, or Lord-Admiral Typhis himself. The Emir doesn't want extinction. He just wants..." Tsen trailed off. "A shakeup."

A shakeup.

Void, if there wasn't anything Kore needed more in her life than a shakeup.

"I don’t know," she told him, finally. And she slunk back down to the floor once more, pulling her knees in close to her chest. Above them, her eyes glowered with the embers of a once-raging fire. Her inner heat, diminished yet untamed. "I’ll think about it.” Her expression hardened. “But it won't be for you, Jiang Tsen. You murdered the love of my life. I won't ever forgive you for that."

"That's fair," Tsen admitted, with a sloping shrug of the shoulders. "And for what it's worth, I would have preferred to induct you any other way. Sekhmet forced the issue herself. I regret it, yes — but I won't apologize. And maybe, one day, you'll even be able to thank me." He shot her a thin smile, rapped his knuckles twice against the bars. "I'll be back tomorrow, Kore."

"Okay," Kore muttered — for sleep had reared its head without warning, like a great wave looming above for only a second before crashing down with all its terrible and overwhelming weight. And just like that, the real world was washed away, and so Kore found herself somewhere else entirely — training with Sekhmet in the Gorger's makeshift gymnasium.

"No," Kore begged at once, dropping down to the bench and tossing her melt-blade aside. "Please. Not her."

"She's just about the only thing on your mind right now," Sekhmet shrugged, sheepishly. "This is the best I can do."

"You could just...not..." Kore sighed, head in her hands. "You could just let me sleep."

"I've got no say in any of this." Sekhmet plopped down on the bench beside her, and the aging metal creaked in protest beneath her eight-hundred-pound bulk. "You know that."

"I don't care." Kore shook her head. She stared at the floor, unwilling to see her face. Void, even in her dreams she was just so fucking tired. "I just...I just need a break. Some kind of relief. Anything."

"And I wish you could have one." Sekhmet reached over to pat Kore on the shoulder — then evidently thought better of it. She was looking at the larger woman, now, with curiosity shining in her silver eyes. "You really did love her, you know."

"Of course I did," Kore sighed, her shoulders drooping even further. "She was everything to me."

"She was hurting, when you found her," Sekhmet remarked. "And I know that you know that, because...well, you know. She was in a real bad way."

"When she found me," came Kore’s beleaguered, muttered correction.

"Sure," Sekhmet smiled. "But what I'm getting at, Kore, is that you saved her life. You took one of the Sovereign's broken, abused, tortured little creations and turned her into...well, look at me."

Slowly, reluctantly, Kore did. And though it hurt, Kore saw her all the same — shaggy blonde hair that was actually starting to look kind of nice, an impish gleam in the corner of her eye. A form and posture that radiated joy and excitement and a boundless love for life. There was no other way to put it — Sekhmet was always having fun. Always. Everyone on the Gorger envied her for that, for her ability to wring enjoyment from even the dullest or most dire moments of life. She was a truly free spirit, a gleeful and wild soul with a second lease on life who intended to live it to the fullest.

"Oh," Kore said.

"See?" Sekhmet grinned and cocked her head to the side, as Kore had seen her do ten thousand times before. "I think that counts as helping someone."

"I mean..." Kore trailed off. "At first, I just thought a Se-dai bodyguard would be useful to keep around. All I ever intended to do was use her.”

"Liar," Sekhmet's grin grew even wider. "Why even bother lying to me? You fell in love because she made you feel safe. Because you were so completely and utterly at home, in her presence. And so you decided to return the favor."

"I didn't-"

"You vowed, night after night, that you would make her feel the same," Sekhmet continued. "We’re talking about a Se-dai here! You were dead-set on making a Se-dai feel safe. What a ridiculous notion. And yet you were committed to it, Kore. One thousand percent." The smile faded, just a notch. "And, well. You succeeded."

"I just-I didn't-" Kore muttered. And then, defeated, she just hung her head. "I don't even know anymore."

"Who does?" Sekhmet shrugged her shoulders. "We're all just doing the best we can, at the end of the day." She paused. "You think that to yourself a lot, you know. Maybe you should start actually believing it."

----------------------------------------

Jaheed

The door went flying off the hinges; before anyone could react Diesch was stepping in with ion shotgun at the ready. "Not a muscle," he cautioned. The four men in the machine shop took his advice to heart.

Behind him, then, came Sen Tarsus and Jaheed Vell — the former with a laser carbine in hand and the latter with a thunderous expression upon his face. The door promptly was kicked shut behind them.

"Easy now," one of the men — an older gentleman in a stained-blue jumpsuit — was saying. He held up weathered hands. "Money's in the back. I can take you right to it."

"Money," Jaheed scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.” And with that, he was off, with Diesch on his heels as Tarsus held the men at gunpoint. The two of them descended into the lower level of the workshop — a dimlit place strewn with tools and parts and all manner of rubbish — and strolled down the line of hovertrucks, hands in his pockets, until Diesch clicked his tongue twice and pointed a metal finger.

"That's the one?" Jaheed asked, indicating a boxy black hovertruck that appeared identical to every other boxy black hovertruck.

"Look at the scoring on the side," Diesch told him, indicating a mark that Jaheed could barely even discern. "That's our man." Jaheed circled around, saw the plate — and, indeed, the tag was the same. This was the vehicle Kore had been abducted in. This was the vehicle in which Tsen — in which Jaheed’s prey — had sat. Superstitious and impossible and ridiculous as it was, in that moment Jaheed was almost palpably aware of the other man's presence, as though Tsen’s very being had somehow left some manner of poisonous miasma in its wake.

The Jade Wolf could almost smell him.

Jaheed stepped back into the central office, leaned back against the wall, folded his arms. Looked each man in the eye, slowly and deliberately, and then told them: "The vehicle in bay seven was rented out by a man named Jiang Tsen, a man who has personally done me wrong. Now, I will tell you — there is nothing I will not do to see that man brought to justice. I care not one iota who or what finds itself in my way; I'll dispose of it all just the same. To those who would shelter him, my face-" he pointed, "-can mean only death. Do you understand me?" All three nodded rather enthusiastically, at that.

"Good," Jaheed said, flashing them a thin smile. "Now, then. You're going to give me every shred of documentation you have on the man who rented that truck, and then you're going to pray that you've given me enough."