“It’s easy to forget how removed you are from it all. Some death squad kills some people you’ve never heard of on some planet in some sector you’ve never been to, and never will—and you don’t really care, do you? It’s so easy to detach from the individual, to neglect their experience. To forget that all we have, and all we ever truly will have, is ourselves and each other. Everything matters, every little thing, and forcing yourself to care is a most noble endeavor, especially when it doesn’t benefit you to do so.”
—Qridra Raskad, Philosopher and founder of the Nexus Church, in a collection of several of her works: On Ethics: Essays and Treatises on Moral Life
A raspy shout bellowed from Zaina’s guts as her cipher materialized in hand. Her heart was roaring in anger as the biriflers flinched, aiming at her—glancing aside, Xyrthe was right beside her, weapon at the ready. Leda’s disbelieving face fell to horror as she loosed a despairing shriek and collapsed to her knees.
Ondor shrugged. “That’s what happens. All right, the woman next. She’s killed too many of ours to go to a camp.”
“No!” Zaina shrieked, raising her hex-guard to cover Leda. “We won’t let you!”
The chairman scoffed. “You really want to end up like them? Come now, Zaina. You’re naïve, sure, but I didn’t think you were this naïve. I have no problem killing either or both of you if you won’t come quietly. Frankly, it’s my most time-effective option right now, even with the cost of filing your death certificates with the courts. While I’d prefer to get on with this execution, I don’t mind taking a detour if you don’t do what you’re told. So, you’ll get one last chance since I’m in a rather generous mood—come with me, now, or die here with these pathetic mongrels. Your choice. I really don’t mind killing lancers.”
“You think that’s a good idea?” Zaina bluffed. “You don’t think there’ll be any retribution for that?”
Ondor chuckled. “I know there won’t—not for your kind. Why do you think I specifically requested you two once I learned you were available? Because I knew, if the situation called for one or both of you to die, nothing would come back on me—why, I’d almost be doing the Order a favor, wouldn’t I?”
Her chest flushed with burning hatred, Zaina stared helplessly at the child trembling beneath Ondor’s grasp. A lump wedged in her throat as her heart pounded like a war-drum. There was no way out—no way to save these people.
Ondor raised his wrist to his face and said, “Veimla—head on over. We’ve got it from here.”
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As she adjusted her clammy hands’ grip on her cipher, Zaina took a few deep breaths and wondered how best to tackle the situation. Veimla’s glyphs were still hovering, trained on their position from behind in case the sniper needed to take an emergency shot. Zaina’s eyes darted in every direction, then fell on the warsuit. The sun gleamed off its gold-and-blue streaks as it stood still in the stand. An idea popped into her head.
Zaina leaned over and helped Leda to her feet; as she did so, she cast a glance toward the warsuit and whispered, “You know what to do.”
Leda’s expression was one of pure panic and grief—Zaina hoped she saw the way out, too. Their salvation was through Leda.
Without another word, Zaina turned toward Ondor, her cipher disappearing from her hands. “Yeah,” she said in a casual voice, “you’re right. You win. It’s all yours.”
Xyrthe shot her a murderous glare and hissed through gritted teeth, “What the fuck are you doing, rookie?”
“No, he’s right,” Zaina said as she walked over toward Ondor. “Absolutely right.”
Ondor was staring on with suspicion in his eyes. “It was all always mine. What is this? What kind of play are you making?”
Zaina shrugged. “You’re right, Ondor—there’s no sense in Xyrthe or me dying for some backwater world like this. What could possibly be gained from it?”
He nodded, his eyes glancing over toward the others. “Yes—yes, you see, you’re starting to get it. You’re coming around to see reason.”
Xyrthe called after her, “I don’t think I can follow you on this one, kid.”
Still walking backwards, Zaina turned around to face her mentor. As she did, her hand fell to the grenade dispenser on her utility belt; with a twist of a dial, she programmed a batch of smoke-bombs and dropped them into her hand. Her mentor, watching it all, cast her as dirty a look as possible and summoned her cipher—Zaina hoped she was acting.
“You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?” Xyrthe said. “I had you pegged for a good-for-nothing weasel the second you stepped foot in the Order!”
“Hey, now,” Zaina said, spinning back around. “It’s not my fault you’re too soft.”
Ondor cleared his throat. “So, Xyrthe, I can assume you won’t be taking up my most gracious offer, then?”
“You can go fuck yourself in the pits of hell,” Xyrthe replied. “I never liked you.”
“I’m sure knowing that will cost me a great deal of sleep,” the chairman said.
Zaina walked up beside him with smoke grenades armed in her hand. With a smirk plastered to his face nodded, and she stood by his side.
“Well,” Ondor said, “it looks like we’ve finally reached the end of this whole fiasco. And I must say, what an utterly unpleasant affair you all have turned this into for me. I’ve never been treated so unfairly in regards to my legal property. Imagine all this trouble for some backwater world no one will remember. Everyone will be glad it’s gone when they see what it becomes. I can’t wait until the resort is up and running—after everything I’ve been through, I’ll need a vacation.”
Hardly able to contain her contempt any longer, Zaina said in a low voice, “Yeah, you will.”
With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the grenades at the mercenaries behind her and detonated them in midair; thick clouds of smoke covered the team of biriflers.
Ondor spun to face her, his face alight in confusion—Zaina tapped his face with her fist, knocking him onto his back and bloodying him; the phase cycler flew from his hands, landing off in the desert. Then, grabbing the young boy by the arm, Zaina turned toward the panicking townsfolk and dove at them, pulling them to the ground.