19. Bruticus

CHAPTER 19

brUTICUS

T he chauffeur never sees me coming. My arm locks around his throat, pressing on the carotid arteries until he slumps forward. I drag his unconscious body behind a storage crate and strip off his uniform.

The fabric stretches tight across my shoulders. Human clothes never fit right, but it will do. I slide into the driver's seat, adjusting the mirror until I can see the rear passenger area clearly.

My pulse quickens at the sound of footsteps. Commander Daniels strides through the garage door, datapad in hand. He doesn't look up as he slides into the back seat.

"To the Men's Club, and be quick about it. This whole situation with the Reaper has me stressed."

"Right away, sir." The words taste like ash in my mouth. My bone spurs slice through the thin material of the gloves as my fingers tighten on the steering wheel.

The hover limo glides smoothly out of the garage. I merge into the flowing river of aerial traffic, weaving between the seven tiers of lanes that crisscross the station. Behind me, Daniels taps away at his datapad, completely unaware of who sits mere feet away.

The bone spurs in my arms push against the uniform's fabric, eager to taste blood. Soon.

I bank left at the next junction, away from the bustling entertainment district. Daniels remains absorbed in his compad, the blue glow reflecting off his weathered face. The Men's Club could be anywhere - not that it matters. My destination lies in the opposite direction.

The hover limo swoops past abandoned construction sites and empty cargo bays. Metal struts and exposed beams stretch toward the station's distant ceiling like skeletal fingers. Perfect.

Dry dock seven looms ahead, a cavernous space large enough to house small freighters. The entry portal stands open, ready to swallow us whole. I guide the vehicle inside, past stacks of shipping containers and derelict repair equipment.

The limo's landing struts touch down with a soft thud. The engine's hum dies away, leaving only the hollow echo of distant machinery.

"What's the meaning of this? This isn't the Men's Club." Daniels finally looks up from his compad, his expression shifting from annoyance to confusion.

I twist around in the driver's seat, letting him get a good look at my face. My bone spurs tear through what remains of the uniform's sleeves. A predatory grin splits my features, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.

"Hello, Commander. Your daughter calls me Daddy, too."

Daniels lunges for the door handle. The limo rocks as he yanks it open, then freezes. His face drains of color as he peers down at the concrete floor thirty feet below.

"You'll never get away with murder, Reaper scum."

"Murder?" The word rolls off my tongue. "No. I'm not going to kill you."

"Then what's all this theatrics for?"

My claws tap against the steering wheel. "I love your daughter. Maryse means everything to me."

"Stay away from her, you monster-"

"Shut up." The bone spurs in my arms extend with a soft snick. "I won't kill you because it would break her heart. But I also can't let you continue your criminal empire. The slaves. The deaths at Rakura IV. All of it ends today."

His weathered face hardens. "You have no proof."

"Detective Vorpa probably can get some, especially with your cooperation. I've thought long and hard about this, Commander. There's only one solution that keeps you alive and brings justice."

"And what's that?"

"You're going to confess. To everything. The IHC and Alliance authorities will handle your punishment." My teeth flash in a mirthless grin. "Maryse will be hurt when she learns the truth, but at least she'll be able to visit her father in prison."

"I can make you rich beyond your dreams." Daniels's voice takes on an oily smoothness. "Think about it - with your strength and my connections, we could rule this sector together."

My lip curls. "Not interested."

"Political power then. I can get you appointed as security chief. Full diplomatic immunity."

"The answer is still no."

"Fine. You want Maryse? Take her. She's yours - completely. I'll even sign over her trust fund."

The bone spurs in my arms lengthen of their own accord, piercing through the remains of the chauffeur's uniform. "You'd sell out your own daughter?"

"She's young, pretty. Good breeding stock for whatever twisted offspring you Reapers produce."

My claws dig into the steering wheel, leaving deep gouges in the synthetic leather. "You disgust me."

"Come now, be reasonable-"

"Your evil has finally caught up with you, Daniels. Nothing will change that."

"But I'm not evil, you simpleton." His face twists into a snarl. "Those women I traffic? They're nothing. Street trash who would've ended up dead in some gutter, or hooked on nova dust, or rotting in prison. I give them purpose - homes, food, protection. They should thank me."

The worst part isn't his words. It's the utter conviction in his eyes as he speaks them. He truly believes his own lies, has constructed an entire mythology where he's the hero instead of the monster.

My stomach churns. This is the man who raised Maryse, who shaped her earliest years. Yet somehow she grew up kind and decent despite his influence.

"How could someone like you produce a being as pure-hearted and good as Maryse?" The words tear from my throat, rough with disgust.

Daniels settles back in his seat, smoothing his uniform. His lips curl into a patronizing smile that makes my claws itch. "The galaxy needs men like me to protect delicate flowers like my daughter. Some people simply can't handle harsh realities. That's why we need a firm hand to guide them."

"You mean control them."

"Call it what you will." He waves dismissively. "Some people are simply better than others. It's the natural order of things."

The steering wheel creaks under my grip. My bone spurs slice deeper into the synthetic leather.

"That's why Earth is a paradise with an empire that spreads among the stars." His gray eyes glitter with malice. "While you Reapers are scattered to the wind with no homeworld, no culture, and no value."

My mother's face flashes through my mind - her kind eyes, her gentle smile as she tucked me in at night. The way she worked double shifts at the docks to give me a better life. The pride in her voice when I learned to read.

No culture? No value?

The songs of my people echo in my soul, millennium of history carried in their haunting melodies. The sacred dances that celebrate life even in the darkest times. The stories passed down through generations of how we survived when our world was destroyed.

But arguing with Daniels would be pointless. He's too convinced of his own superiority to ever see the truth.

Blue strobes flash at the hangar entrance. Two security cruisers zoom in, their sirens wailing. Daniels seizes his chance, hurling himself through the open door. His scream echoes off the metal walls as he hits the concrete with a sickening crack. He's still moving, alive but hurt.

"Damn it!" I slam the accelerator. The limo rockets forward, scraping paint off one of the patrol cars as I squeeze past.

The security vehicles wheel around in pursuit, their engines whining. Red warning lights strobe across my dashboard as I push the limo past its safety limits. The steering yoke bucks in my hands while I weave between cargo containers.

A burst of plasma fire sizzles past my window. These officers aren't playing around.

I dive into the main traffic lanes, cutting across three tiers of vehicles. Horns blare. A cargo hauler swerves to avoid me, clipping one of my pursuers. The patrol car spins out but stays airborne.

The second cruiser sticks to my tail as I thread through maintenance corridors barely wide enough for the limo. Sparks shower from the walls where my vehicle scrapes against them.

Up ahead, a water reclamation intake vent beckons. I aim straight for it, timing my jump perfectly. The limo screams past the vent while I roll out the door, my bone spurs catching on the grating.

The empty limo continues on, drawing the patrol car with it. I drop into the darkness below, splashing into knee-deep recycled water. The tunnel's musty air fills my lungs as I wade deeper into the shadows.

Time to disappear for a while.

The recycled water sloshes around my knees as I trudge through the maintenance tunnels. My bone spurs scrape against the metal walls, sending echoes bouncing through the darkness. The stench of mildew and decay fills my nostrils.

Three hours of walking brings me to a service ladder. The rungs creak under my weight as I climb up to the top level.

The Drunken Asteroid beckons with its flickering neon sign. Perfect. The kind of place where credits buy silence and no one asks questions.

"Bloodwine. Double." I slump onto a barstool. The vinyl covering crackles beneath me.

The bartender - a grizzled Thoraxian with three cybernetic eyes - slides the drink across without comment. The thick red liquid burns going down.

Another glass appears before I ask. "Leave the bottle."

Daniels's words echo in my head. The casual way he offered to sell his own daughter. The contempt in his voice when he spoke of the women he trafficked.

The bloodwine turns sour in my stomach. I was a fool to think there might be a shred of decency in him. Some fragment of honor that would let him face justice with dignity.

But he's worse than I imagined. A monster who sees other beings as objects to be used and discarded. Who wraps his crimes in pretty lies about protection and purpose.

I drain the glass, pour another. The bottle's nearly empty now.

What options do I have left? I can't kill him - it would destroy Maryse. Can't turn him in without proof. Can't let him continue his evil.

The bone spurs in my arms ache with the need to rend flesh. But violence won't solve this. For the first time in my life, I have no clear path forward.

I signal for another bottle. Maybe the answers hide at the bottom this bottle...