Stars in Nova (The Sable Riders #6)

The Burden of Light

T he air split, atoms rent in two by a kinetic wave as a man tore through the crowded street, his boots pounding against the synth-stone pavement.

He took fast, flying strides, his broad shoulders cutting through the throng like a blade.

His visor flashed as he narrowed his vision on the fleeing kinai .

Black tactical gear, dusted with the grime of the city, hugged his muscular frame as he powered forward, unrelenting.

The fluorescent badge on his hip ID’d him as one of the rock’s elite Eden Guardians.

Ahead of him, the thief darted like a shadow, smaller and more agile, able to slip into spaces the muscled Edenite guard could not.

The crowd parted with screams and protests as the crim knocked over a vendor’s cart, spilling gleaming trinkets across the street.

The Guardian gave chase, leaping over the wreckage without breaking stride.

‘Move!’ he barked, his deep bass carrying over the din.

A woman shrieked as the fleeing low-life shoved her into the ground, her basket of vivid orange fruits cascading to the surface.

Children scrambled to get out of the way, their laughter replaced with wide-eyed fear.

The thief twisted down a narrow alley, the stench of oil and waste overpowering the air.

The man with a glowing visor followed, his boots echoing off the metal walls as he gained on his target.

The alleyway became a blur of flashing neon signs and swinging laundry lines, the rhythmic slap of his steps syncing with his heart pounding.

Another turn.

The market district of Eden II crawled with its usual chaos.

Drunks stumbled out of dim-lit bars, their laughter fractured and hollow.

Merchants hawked wares in a cacophony of languages, scents of roasted meats mingling with the acrid tang of overheated machinery, and the hum of hover carts cut through the crowd.

A vendor yelled in fury as his stand of skewered kebabs toppled over.

The sizzling sound of food hitting the ground mixed with curses in the local dialect.

The burglar lunged through the wreckage, but the Guardian didn’t give up, relentless, hurdling over the overturned grill with a single fluid motion.

‘Stop!’ the meta guard roared with raw authority.

The thief glanced back, his face pale with panic, and that moment’s hesitation cost him.

The man giving chase scaled a wall with a kinetic burst of power.

He darted, one strong hand closing around the kinai’s shoulder and yanking him back with a force that sent them both sprawling.

The robber yelped, the sound high-pitched and desperate, as they tumbled.

The crowds fell into stunned silence for a heartbeat, frozen in macabre fascination as the meta man pinned the struggling mugger.

The street bandit writhed, his breaths ragged. It didn’t help, for the Guardian’s grip was unyielding.

‘You think you can outrun me?’ he growled.

The robber whimpered, his protests lost in the rising murmurs of the onlookers gathering around.

Vendors peered from behind their ruined stalls, some muttering curses while others stared, captivated by the display of raw power.

The Guardian yanked the thief to his feet. ‘What crew do you run with?’ he demanded, his snarl laced with menace.

The low-life squirmed, choosing silence, his gaze darting about as though looking for a way out.

The Rider shook his head, his lips curling into a grim smile. ‘Don’t make this harder than it already is.’

He turned, dragging the pilferer back through the chaos. The rubberneckers parted again, this time in awe.

The only sounds came from the soft crackle of a toppled food grill and the steady rhythm of the man’s boots as he strode away, his captured prey in tow.

The street reverberated with whispers, not because he was an Eden Guard but because of his infamy.

He scowled as he stalked past his audience, his towering frame cutting through the noise and light.

Women dressed in shimmering fabrics leaned against street lamps, their voices seductive and persuasive as they tried to catch the attention of men passing by.

‘Hey, Kisan.’

More syrupy, sweet calls followed in his wake.

He ignored them all, not even glancing their way, for he’d no interest in their company tonight or any other night.

He turned down a narrow side alley into a square with the kinai in tow. The con in his grip dragged his heels, weaving with weariness.

Suddenly, the click of a distant trigger filtered into his eardrums.

He froze, limbs locked.

He flung the crook away from him in a split-second kinetic response just as the first piercing crack shattered the stillness.

The impact came a moment later, slamming into his shoulder with the force of an oversized hammer.

His captive delayed his reaction.

He staggered, his body twisting on instinct to minimize the blow.

An additional shot followed, then a third, each one striking hard.

For a moment, time seemed to stretch.

He glanced down, his black combat vest torn, the dusky flesh of his chest beneath it already bruising.

Fokk, no blood.

Instead, a shimmering force danced over his complexion, a ripple of power that absorbed the kinetic force of the bullets.

The pain faded, replaced by a growing surge of energy.

Kisan straightened, his visor slipping off to reveal his glowing aquamarine eyes.

His tattoos pulsed under his skin, forming and reforming into luminescent dark ink.

Senses sharpened, his heartbeat slowed as he scanned the street for his attacker.

Another shot came, whizzing toward him.

He ducked, and it flamed past his ear.

He spun, pinpointing the source—a figure crouched on a nearby upper level, silhouetted against the dome’s silver glow. Without hesitation, he moved.

His muscles surged, his every step amplified by his meta-kinesis.

He leaped, the pavement cracking underneath him, and landed on a metal balcony two stories up.

The shooter fired again, but the man deflected the bullet with a twist of his arm, the kinetic force dissipating.

In a single bound, he closed the distance, landing on the rooftop with enough impact to send a shockwave rippling through the structure.

The attacker staggered, disoriented.

The Eden Guard wasted no time. His fist, surrounded by a crackling aqua aura, struck the man square in the chest.

The punch, delivered with precision, sent a ripple of energy through the attacker’s physique. The man crumpled, his strength sapped, his essence drained.

He slid and fell off the roof.

Kisan leaped, managing to grab his assaulter’s limbs. Utilizing his core to right himself, he positioned his body under the man’s limp one and braced his metanoids with kinetic power.

The pair hit the ground, but Kisan’s dynamic scatter cushioned them.

It still knocked some air from the Rider, and he exhaled, twisting from below his assailant.

Kisan knelt beside him, his glowing eyes narrowing as he focused.

The silver-green light in his irises intensified, scanning the assailant’s biology.

His heartbeat was erratic but stable, and his muscles trembled from the rapid cell fatigue induced by the Rider.

His assassin’s unmistakable Falasian features included distinctive dark skin, sloe eyes, a ridged nose, and a scarified facial structure.

He sent a burst of bio-kinetic pulses through the man, who gasped, spluttered, and struggled to rise.

The Guardian placed a hand on his chest, immobilizing him until he calmed, eyes searching for and fixing on the Rider.

With a scowl, the Falasian fell back.

‘Why?’ Kisan’s growl was edged with wariness.

The aggressor glared at him, his breath ragged. ‘You murdered my kin, Ankis!’

He spat out the name, and the Rider flinched.

‘In the battle of Shigal, in the province of Usum, you fokkin ’ waste of space. You slaughtered them like animals.’

The accusation slammed into the meta irised man harder than any bullet.

His mind tripped into a series of jagged memories, and he winced at the tangled mess of battles and bloodshed, faces and names blurred by the passage of time.

Was it true? Had he destroyed this man’s family in his blind pursuit of vengeance?

Before he could respond, more shots rang out, laser shots pinged past him, and he whipped around.

Screams erupted from the street below. Kisan glanced down to see chaos unfolding—more stray beams, downed civilians, and panic rippled through the crowd.

Blood stained the polished moonstone pavement as people scrambled for cover.

A second shooter.

Kisan rose with fluid motion, closing his eyes.

He sent out a dynamic burst.

In seconds, he found the new bogey, evidenced by the heat of his gun barrel, hidden behind a curtain on the third level of an apartment building nearby.

The Rider honed on the precise location point and sent out a single pulse of a bio-kinetic charge.

It flew through the air, the wave hitting the marksman, enveloping him in its high-band power. It disrupted neurological signals, creating magnetic-like attraction and repulsion.

The attacker convulsed and fell unconscious.

Turning to the first shooter, Kisan bent, wrapped his arms around his shoulder, and squeezed the thick neck, sending pulsations through his bulging arm muscles.

In seconds, the bogey was out.

The Guardian then raced past shocked locals as he raced up the side of the building.

Launching himself through the third-level window, he emerged shortly later with a limp form in his grasp.

He leaped into the air and landed, his body trembling from rage and adrenaline.

His metanoids pulsed under his skin as he prowled towards the first assailant, still prostrate on the ground.

A flash of motion caught his eye.

Xion, one of his fellow Sable brothers.

The handsome Rider moved through the chaos with fluid agility, towering over most.

His dark coat billowed as he helped lift an injured woman, his sharp eyes scanning the scene.

Spotting Kisan, he tilted his head, locking eyes. An explanation, brother .

Kisan nodded. Give me five , he growled via their neural node link.

He lifted both Falasians with ease and loped down to the street, where a Guardian patrol flyer was approaching.

He raised a chin to the pilot, who opened the flyer’s doors. The Rider tossed in the offenders with a growl, cuffed the kinais , and stepped back.

‘Wait, got one more.’

Moments later, the thief was tossed in the back of the hovering prisoner hauler.

Kisan slapped its broadside. ‘You’re good to go now.’

The craft ascended toward the Guardian’s station, dodging the hover ambulances taking the injured to the hospital.

Kisan turned and pursed his lips as he prowled toward the dusky-skinned, tall, fit, lean, muscled man with meta tattoos, locks, and chiseled, brooding features that most single women across Pegasi drooled over.

Xion Sable .

One of the Galaxy’s former top playboys. However, since his attachment to a certain alluring Iccythrian quick-fingered beauty called Katya, his player days were over.

Now, he headed the Eden Guards and was, in effect, Kisan’s direct khan .

He studied Kisan with penetrating eyes, his hazel irises ringed with glowing sapphire flecks.

His expression turned darker as he took in the scene. ‘Report, kaka ,’ he murmured.

Kisan fell silent for a moment, searching for what to say.

It was his thing; he never rushed his words, and his energy embodied quiet intensity.

He spoke with spare effort, his phrases sometimes stilted, chosen with care, each heavy with burden.

This silence was not due to a lack of thought; his mind was a constant storm of introspection.

He remained pensive, hyper-aware of his flaws and the consequences of his past actions. His brooding nature stemmed from his profound guilt, the shadow of his past mistakes shaping his every decision.

He moved through life with a lingering darkness over his heart, driven by an insatiable need to make amends.

‘One freakin’ mugger, followed by two bogeys. One of the latter targeted me,’ Kisan finally rasped, his voice clipped. ‘Claims I killed his family on Falasia many spans ago.’

Xion arched a brow. ‘That true?’

‘I don’t know,’ Kisan admitted, his chest tight. ‘I can’t remember, but fokk , I feel guilty, regardless.’

Silence fell between them.

Xion studied him for a moment, his regard heavy with meaning. ‘There’s more at stake here than your guilt, brother. Innocent people are bleeding because of this. We need to find out if there’s a vendetta against you.’

Kisan looked around, his eyes lingering on a child clutching her injured father, whose face was pale, his breathing shallow.

Even more remorse, sharp and unforgiving, pressed down on Kisan. He clenched his fists, the shimmer of his bio-energy fading as his body returned to normal.

‘I’ll take care of it,’ he rasped in a timbred rumble.

Xion placed a hand on Kisan’s shoulder, eyes narrowed on his face. ‘I see you. At your core, you’re a man searching for peace, even if you believe it is unattainable for someone like you. Your desire to atone is your greatest strength and deepest wound, a relentless force that propels you forward. Please don’t allow it to erode your spirit. I see a man capable of extraordinary love and loyalty, though he never thinks he deserves it. Kaka , don’t let the bygones bury you. You have a future and a hope, and you need to hold out for it.’

Kisan mulled, raised a chin, and nodded.

Nonetheless, the sage encouragement did little to ease his turmoil.

He gave his fellow Rider a one-shouldered hug. ‘I’ve also got a freakin’ amount of paperwork to fill out on this incident.’

‘So get to it. I’ll wrap up here,’ Xion rumbled.

With a chin jerk and a rough, raw ‘ Sante ,’ Kisan turned and strode toward the Guardians’ central station, his every step heavy and somber.