Chapter 2
The Sineater
“You’re thin,” Dravion said as he came to stand next to me at the hatch to the shuttle.
His tentacles gently moved against the floor of the hangar bay, keeping him raised to match my height.
I ignored him, because I could not give him a satisfying answer.
It was far more tempting to snap something derisive that might rile him, anger him.
Lately, that temptation had been great around everyone—anything to feed Val, to feed me—but it wasn’t working.
I was starting to think it wasn’t just the lack of true hate, rage, and despair.
Something was failing in the bond between us, and now Val couldn’t sustain herself on the trickle that did come through.
I shrugged. “I am fine.” Despite the gnawing hunger, I had made sure not to lose any muscle mass, working out endlessly and filling my belly with food that fed the body but not Val’s soul, and thus, not mine.
I flexed my fist against my thigh, clad in the Varakartoom’s custom-made armor, finally crafted by the ship’s young engineer, Ysa.
She’d dropped by that morning to check on my suit, her fear in my presence sweet and intoxicating, but with a bitter edge.
Val had fed, then complained of feeling sick and slunk into a dark corner to lick her ruffled, liquid fur for a while.
Contrary to what I had told Dravion, I was not fine, and Val was getting worse.
There was nothing the good doctor could do about it, though.
He held out a bag for me, packed to the brim with medical supplies.
I had only to glance under the flap to notice that he’d stuck half a dozen injectors filled with his special healing stimulants into it.
He was expecting I’d run into trouble. It was instinctive to lash out.
“What, you don’t have any faith in my abilities?
Think I’m gonna need that much medicine?
” I drawled it mockingly, but Dravion’s eyes were kind, not a speck of tasty fear.
“You never know, Sin. Even you can get hurt, and I don’t think you’ve been your best lately.
” The words made me bristle and want to shout in denial, but I held them back.
If Asmoded thought I was not up to this, he’d yank the mission out from under me.
I could not have that; it was my last chance to fix this thing Val and I were suffering from—a good, deep dose of evil, of darkness, a full belly for once in the past months.
We’d be right as rain after that. I had to believe it.
“Did you say this to Asmoded?” I demanded roughly, and the doctor’s shrug made me settle in place, my skin prickling along my spine.
That was not an answer, but there was no word from Asmoded to stop the prepping of the shuttle.
Ysa was ducking around the sleek black craft, our smallest vessel, since it was only going to be me.
It hadn’t been used in a while, so she was double-checking that all systems were running smoothly.
Personally, I found it hard to be worried about a tiny malfunction.
The Ulinial female was an odd addition to a mercenary crew; her species were strict pacifists.
Her uncut, long braid, with wooden beads threaded around the tips, declared that she still believed those tenets.
She was one of those people who exuded nothing but peaceful calm and bright, warm friendliness, proving it was true.
She only worked on the mechanics—armor and ship, never weapons; that was all Jaxin.
Perhaps that made it work in her head. I just knew I had to avoid her as much as possible; she made me feel sick.
Val was on the far side of the hangar bay—as long as Ysa was around, she’d withdrawn every part of herself and curled up in the corner in her Gracka shape.
Silver eyes stared at us with hostility and distrust, and it made me feel the same, an echo of her feelings.
It was harder to disentangle what she felt from what were my own feelings today than it had been yesterday.
So hard that I gave Dravion a distrustful glare, even as he turned and walked away.
Minutes later, Ysathea ducked out of the shuttle, her long braid wrapped around her waist. Her boots were unnecessarily large and clunky, with thick soles and lots of laces—a fashion statement rather than a practical choice, though the thick rubber soles might insulate her from a shock, which wasn’t a redundant requisite in her profession.
“All good,” she declared with a cheerful smile.
“You can ride this baby down to that planet of doom, and it won’t be my work that kills you, Sinny,” she chirped cheerfully.
I glared, and she smirked, not a waft of fear, let alone common sense.
“Little girl, there is nothing out there that can kill me at all,” I said to her.
If Val were in good shape, that would be a fact of life.
Sons of Ragnar, properly bonded with their symbionts, were indestructible, immortals who patrolled the supposedly lawless borders of the Alpha Quadrant.
They had a strict policy: never interfere with politics, just rescue those in need.
And with what word trickled in from the quadrant, I wondered if the stuck-up bastards still held to that policy.
If they wanted, they could wipe the floor with the damned UAR.
Ysa just smirked a little wider, rocking on her thick-soled boots.
She still looked tiny next to me, and she had to tilt back her chin to stare me in the face.
Shorter tendrils of hair curled around her oval face, and her long, dark-blue lashes glittered at the tips with tiny little sparkles.
Extremely pretty, ridiculously pretty, and very useless.
It definitely didn’t make me feel inclined to be nice when she batted those lashes.
But then, I had a feeling that was not her purpose.
The senseless female was baiting me. What was wrong with people?
Stalking around her, I ignored her laughter as she called me an arrogant bastard.
She was leaving, that was all that mattered.
As soon as the door slammed shut behind her, Val slipped from her corner to trot back to my side.
She rubbed her sleek Gracka body against my hip, butted her head into my hand until I obliged, and scratched her behind her sharply pointed ears.
There was no one in the hangar bay to see us off, but that was no surprise.
I could indulge her need for affection for a short while, even if the warm, fuzzy feelings would make her want to snap at things a moment later.
There were extra crates secured with maglocks to the deck of the shuttle, food and weapons, supplies to help me last out there and arm myself against whatever this certain-death thing might be that hid in the ocean.
There was diving equipment too, but I wouldn’t need that.
One crate was covered in warning labels, these would be the explosives that Jaxin had supplied to help blow up the stronghold.
“We can still devise a new plan, you know,” Asmoded drawled, catching me by surprise.
He’d moved so silently on his sleek tail that I had not heard him approach.
The Naga captain was in the shuttle’s hatch, leaning casually against the side, arms crossed over his chest. “This is not our only option, and we know Jalima is likely not there. Mitnick found information that indicates he’s in Rummicaron territory somewhere right now. ”
Once, that might have meant flying at breakneck speeds to that location in the hopes of striking the fatal blow.
Though Asmoded had always been savvy enough to make such flights coincide with paid-for missions, I doubted that the normal grunts who cycled through the ship for missions had any clue that the true goal had always been to end the crimelord.
“Destroying his ultimate safe haven is a perfect goal,” I said coolly.
“One that will further your revenge. And is that not what I swore to help you achieve when you offered me this post aboard the Varakartoom?” I patted my chest to emphasize the importance of that vow.
He might have needed me as a voice of reason, but when he’d found me, I’d been the one lost.
Asmoded pursed his mouth as he contemplated me with sharp eyes.
Then he gave me a nod and gestured with a hand at the pilot console at the front of the ship.
“Very well, proceed, my friend.” There was a note in his voice that crackled in the air with emotion—sadness.
It wasn’t quite right to feed Val, but it was one of those feelings she’d made me sensitive to.
It felt like he was saying goodbye to me, but I did not understand that.
I had no intention of dying down there or leaving the ship.
Why were Dravion and he acting like they’d never see me again, and why did they care?
Stomping to the pilot seat, I ignored him and began my preflight check.
Val trotted after me with a softly whining noise, her tail flicking back and forth in annoyance.
When she reached me, she flowed over my body, changing her shape to become sleek, silver armor that covered every inch of my skin.
Sensing my need to shut everything out, she even covered my face, forming a perfect seal around my flesh—a suit of armor that would protect me from the vacuum of space while still allowing me to breathe.
She could create a buffer of oxygen for quite some time, too, but the armor Ysa had made—and that I wore beneath—also provided that kind of temporary kick.
The shuttle hatch hissed as it shut, and then it was just Val and me and the mission.
“Permission to depart,” I asked over the comm channel.
I received an affirmative two seconds later from Jaxin, who had to be in charge on the bridge.
It was too soon for Asmoded to have made it back there.
As I checked that the hangar bay was empty and locked the doors, I wondered if they weren’t right.
Val was sick; perhaps we really were dying.
Perhaps I should say goodbye, but I was never very interested in those kinds of words, anyway.
“Depressurizing hold,” I announced, and again, there was an affirmative.
They could see the progress the same as I could and beat me to the punch, announcing the opening of the hangar bay doors.
My hands were light on the controls as I engaged the small shuttle’s thrusters and lifted her into the air.
Then I aimed the nose of the ship at the doors and the gap of space being revealed beyond them.
Stars glittered like gems against a black backdrop, the water planet below shimmering faintly.
A silvery orb, darkness clinging to half of it and gray fog to the other, hung motionless in space.
The triple stars that lit this solar system seemed dim, barely stirring the planet’s atmosphere with their purple, red, and green hues.
It was not a very inviting planet to visit; perhaps that’s why so little was known about it.
“Scans indicate all is clear,” Mitnick announced.
“No visitors to the solar system. No sign of activity on the planet. Confirm landing coordinates near the located structure, please.” I did, though we’d been over this already in the mission briefing that morning.
Mitnick was always very precise in following protocols, which was ironic because he loved breaking the rules when stealing data.
“Don’t grow too soft while I’m gone,” I found myself warning the listening bridge crew.
“No more humans, please,” I added. Only half of me was attempting to make that sound like I might be joking, the other half, deadly serious.
There were rounds of laughter from the bridge crew, though Mitnick—the one mated male—remained silent.
Jaxin was uttering a very vehement denial, something to do with Bex, his laser cannon, being all he’d ever need.
“No promises!” Raukash rumbled. The Tarkan was a fairly new addition to the ship, though he’d been around since blazing Aramon found his mate nearly a year ago.
His words probably embodied the other half of the ship, the guys who were secretly hoping for that one female to ease their lonely nights.
Too many romantics on the ship these days.
“Report back in three,” Asmoded demanded, cutting through the joking and laughing I was glad not to be present for in person.
He must have reached the bridge, and he must have been moving fast to do so already, not that he sounded winded.
Three days: that’s how long he was willing to give me the ‘no contact’ I’d suggested was needed for the mission.
It was also the estimate I’d made it would take me to infiltrate the structure we’d located, erase the opposition, and blow it all up.
“Report back in three,” I echoed, and then I cut the connection.
I sent the small ship racing toward the planet, no flourishes to my flying like Aramon might have done, just a straight route down to the landing coordinates the twins and Mitnick had agreed on.
Relief raced through my veins as we streaked through space and then began entering the planet’s atmosphere.
Finally alone. Finally, a moment to regroup my tattered shields and soothe nerves so raw they never stopped aching.
“Feel better yet, Val?” I asked my symbiont.
Only a small portion of her had not gone into the armor she’d created over my flesh.
It sat in the navigator’s seat next to me, shaped like a Riho—cute and cuddly, with a long, slinky tail, small pointed ears, and a tiny snout with huge eyes.
She was so covered in fluffy silver fur that she looked like a poofed-up ball, just a long tail and body, her paws hidden beneath her.
Her mouth pulled into a grin, revealing the sharp canines of a predator, and something easy and light drifted through the back of my brain.
Yes, she did feel better, that was good.
I might be loyal to Asmoded for many reasons, part of me was even still true to the tenets of the Sons of Ragnar, but Val would always come first, always.
Something pinged across the ship’s sensors just as we’d reached an altitude of less than three thousand miles.
Faint, so faint that it was barely there at all.
A signal that came, not from the gloomy structure I was headed toward on one of the very few slips of land on this planet, but from deep inside the ocean.