“Such structures, if implemented in the proper locations, could conceivably reduce Militarium response time and allow for greater control over the starlanes—especially those beyond our borders in the Midworlds. In fact, our surveys show construction of four moon-size installations in key strategic places could be of great use should the council see fit to claim more territory.”

—General Zora Sukaivo, leader of the Militarium Allegiant’s Project Buffer

“So bomb the surface,” Xyrthe said. “Aren’t you going to glass it, anyway?”

“We would, but there are several logistical problems with an orbital strike. And besides that, Fell has a number of civilian hostages cooped up with him; we can’t retaliate with such measures so long as they’re alive according to Synatorium law—not unless we get a restraint release, which is rare. I’m afraid a more subtle solution is required.”

For the first time since they were told to come to Rishaval, a smile crossed Xyrthe’s face. Zaina frowned, wondering what her mentor was up to.

Xyrthe said, “And so you’re here—strapped for capital, like you said, with a pirate problem. And here we are, about to be strapped with said pirate problem—am I right?”

“Well,” Ondor said, adorning a toothy, empty-eyed smile, “truth be told, if we’d known such troubles were a possibility, we likely would have delayed our annual contribution to the Order’s coffers. We have a small mercenary strike force on retainer, but they’re something of a last resort. If there’s any chance—um…”

In a dry tone, Xyrthe replied, “Are you asking something, chairman?”

Ondor fidgeted with his fingers for a moment, then said, “Yes. I’m asking for your help. It would mean a great deal to me to have this problem resolved with as little bloodshed as possible.”

Xyrthe crossed her arms and took a step toward their benefactor. “And what if it’s not possible without bloodshed?”

“I would still hope the situation could be resolved in accordance with Synatorium Law, which in this case, would be depopulation by force,” Ondor replied. “I own Archavo Outpost. The planet is mine. I would like a peaceful solution, but I will not bend my interests to avoid violence. I’ve sunk too much money into this to—”

A grimace overtook Xyrthe’s face as she nodded. “Too much money, huh?”

Hoping to get the meeting back on track, Zaina interrupted, “What can you tell us about these marauders?”

Xyrthe shot her a murderous glance, which Zaina ignored.

“Yes,” Ondor said, his eyes now burning with anger, “yes, the matter at hand—Reister Fell, that bastard, and his merry little band of fellows. Well, they’re all outfitted with scavenged Allegiant Militarium tech, for one, though Fell saves the best for himself—an enhanced warsuit, third gen. Retrofitted with whatever firepower they take off whoever we send. The only constant is the grav-blade that came with the suit. Whatever armor and weapons don’t go on that warsuit go to his boys. As for their training, their methodology—Fell runs a tight ship. He’s a former Synatorium lawman, and he’s passed down his training to those under him. They’re coordinated, smart, and lethal. And they very much enjoy what they do.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“What exactly does he want? Does he have any demands?” Zaina asked.

“None that he’s made us aware of. As far as we know he’s doing this for profit. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of our competitors is financing his actions to sabotage this project.”

“How long has he been there?”

Ondor leaned back. “Longer than us, certainly. He’s been causing trouble ever since we touched foot planetside.”

Zaina rubbed her chin. “It would make sense if someone hired him—they’d want their guy to be there first, right?”

Ondor rubbed his hands together. “Yes, I think that’s very likely.”

Xyrthe’s head leaned to one side. “What about the hostages?”

“What was that?”

“The hostages,” Xyrthe repeated. “You mentioned he had some—where did he get them? From the planet’s surface? Did he bring them with to the planet?”

Ondor’s face hit all the right notes of sorrow—his lips pulled into a taut frown, his brow creased, his gaze fell to the ground—but his eyes were empty, devoid of emotion. In a low voice, he said, “We believe they’re holdovers from the imported population brought in to help sustain the military installations. People who lived on this world for several generations and saw it as a home even after the Synatorium pulled out—saw themselves as natives of a constructed world. I offered to relocate the people of Archavo Outpost, an offer which seemed to sit quite well with the village wardens. They brought it amongst themselves to discuss in a grand council, but the proceedings were interrupted by Fell.”

Zaina stepped forward. “He captured them?”

“He killed them,” Ondor replied. “He massacred the lot of them, and anyone who wanted to take my offer, or even talk to me. The women, the children—they’re believed to be the hostages. The rest were either absorbed into his group of mercenaries or killed.”

Xyrthe’s eyes narrowed. “He slaughtered the population of an entire planet?”

Ondor frowned. “Do you think a planet with a high population would be considered by the Synatorium for resource retrieval? There were only a few thousand people on the planet’s surface, centered around a few scattered colonies. I doubt it was hard to destroy entire villages at a time, especially before they expected anything.”

She shook her head. “You know, hearing all of that—the way you talk about this guy, it makes it hard to believe you want no bloodshed.”

Ondor put a hand to his chest. “I want no bloodshed. I cannot speak for Fell, and I don’t believe he’ll let it play that way.”

With a sigh, Xyrthe threw her hands up. “This sounds more like an assassination than any kind of peace offering. If it is, you could come out and say it.”

Ondor glared at her. “As I’ve said—I would prefer peace. However, if it does come to violence, can I rest assured that it will be properly handled?”

Xyrthe turned to Zaina. “Well? I don’t really give a shit either way, so it’s up to you. You want this to be your first real mission?”

Zaina stared at the ground. The Order trusted Ondor, even if Xyrthe didn’t—he couldn’t be all bad, right? And Reister Fell sounded like a madman—someone who needed to be stopped. More than anything, Zaina wanted her first mission to help people—to make a difference. Maybe this was it.

She nodded. Xyrthe groaned while Ondor clapped his hands together.

“Wonderful!” he said. “Oh, this is excellent! I’m sure the situation will be resolved in no time.”

Xyrthe ran a hand down her face and then said, “I’ll inform the Order. By Byzon.”

Zaina didn’t care about her mentor’s dour mood. This was—apparently—her first real mission as a lancer. Still not quite knowing what that meant, she smiled. “So,” she asked Ondor, “when do we leave?”