Chapter 36

THIRTY-SIX

Tarak had summoned them to the cockpit, where the pilot, Lodan, was deeply integrated with the flight controls—the Sylth —of the ship. A visor concealed his eyes. Strange gloves covered his hands. A cocoon of stillness surrounded him, the air taut with his glass-like aura.

It reminded Dragek of glass because it was cool, clear, and precise.

It wasn't a normal aura by any means.

The First Division warriors all had this, to some extent. A certain type of energy about them. They all projected ka'qui in their own unique way, and they instinctively knew how to hide it, too.

Lodan's energy was brighter than some of the others. Dragek suspected it was the reason he meshed so well with the Sylth.

He didn't like the Sylth. He never had. Once, he'd touched her presence accidentally—it was definitely female. It made him feel strange, as if some oppressive, invisible pressure was pushing in on him from all sides.

Gave him the creeps.

Clearly, it didn't have the same effect on Lodan.

Actually, he was from the First Division, too. That meant Tarak had assembled half of the most elite division in the Universe for this mission.

To Dragek, it felt like overkill. Surely, only he and Ashrael would have been sufficient to handle it.

Why was Tarak being so cautious? What was it about that particular ship and those humans that the general believed was so important? So much so that he would send a team worth a dozen ordinary divisions to deal with it?

Not to mention him and Ashrael, two of the most skilled Silent Ones in the Nine Galaxies.

"There it is." Tarak motioned toward a glowing blue holoscreen, where a ship was clearly visible, tracking rapidly across the three-dimensional map. "We've identified it as the Caelix III, a medium-class battle transport from Daegan's old fleet. Its systems aren't advanced enough to detect our upgraded stealth mode, so it will be easy to intercept. It's likely that Amun knows this, that he's expecting us and will try and use his leverage over the hostages to negotiate for whatever it is that he wants."

"What he wants?" Ashrael raised a dark eyebrow. "Is that possibly different from what the Krael wish for?"

Dragek recognized the old Kordolian word— Krael. It meant usurper. How fitting. That was how Tarak and his people referred to the Kordolians that would see the Empire rise again. Dragek's knowledge of post-imperial politics wasn't very intricate, but he knew the Krael consisted mainly of nobility—the lords of the Noble Houses who'd managed to escape Kythia before the downfall and various military and covert factions, including the architects of The Program.

Those were the people that had created Dragek, Ashrael, and their ilk. He didn't know how many Mistresses still existed, controlling their Silent Ones through a powerful psychic hold. The Krael might not be as well-organized and resourced as Tarak's Darkstar Mercenaries, but the mere fact that they still existed was reason enough for extreme vigilance.

If Dragek got the chance to destroy all the Mistresses and Masters of The Program, he would do it without hesitation.

For just like the others, he knew how his people thought.

How ruthless and cruel they could be.

How dangerous they could be, especially when cornered or desperate.

He was one of them, after all.

"Interestingly, the Caelix III hardly sends any comms to their allies. Either they're trying not to give away the locations of their group, or they're just not communicating," Tarak said matter-of-factly. "It is interesting that Amun has taken such a seemingly reckless course of action. One would think he would have sought a landing refuge long before now, but instead, their course has remained steady for Duxuth."

"Almost like it's a trap or something," Rykal said dryly.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Kalan muttered.

"Why do you think I've assembled a full attack squadron?" Tarak raised a pale eyebrow. "No auxiliary fleet has joined the Caelix III to escort it to its destination as of yet. It's almost as if they're trying to lure us with the promise of an easy capture."

"That doesn't worry you?" Dragek frowned in confusion. He couldn't fathom how Tarak and his crew were being so relaxed about it all.

"No. Even if it's a trap, they can't deal with what we're about to throw at them." Tarak folded his arms, his obsidian armor absorbing the surrounding light. His aura was so calm and immovable. Like some ancient stone formation that had weathered storms over the eons. How could he be like this? Compared to the Masters and Mistresses—who, despite their cold orders, had always had a chaotic energy about them—this man was steadfast. He inspired confidence in Dragek, not hatred and fear.

"Explain," Dragek said, momentarily forgetting that he was not in a position to question the former general of the Kordolian Imperial Military, a man who wielded an unimaginable amount of power.

Tarak inclined his head in an obliging manner, one corner of his mouth curving ever so slightly. Dragek could hardly believe it.

"One of the differences between them and us is that I have invested heavily in updating my fleet's technologies. The one we'll be using here is called Second Silence. A cone of silence that will envelop the Caelix III, making it invisible to any who seek to track it. It will essentially cease to exist. We could fly it to Earth, and the Krael would be none the wiser."

"But you said there's a Silent One onboard. If they're under the control of a Mistress, they can project what's happening to her."

Tarak nodded. "That's where Ashrael comes in. He'll take out the rogue Silent One. You will be responsible for capturing Amun. Kail and I will provide both cover and diversion. Rykal and Kalan will remain on the outside of the ship as backup until I give further orders. Once the situation is under control, they will board and help us secure the hostages. Understood?"

Dragek shook his head. "No. Detaining this Amun is supposedly the most fraught and important task of all. Why are you assigning this to me? " He glanced at Ashrael, who was as impenetrable as ever. "Surely, being the more skilled one, Ashrael should take on that job. I can hunt down the other Silent One. As I am right now, that task would suit me better, anyway." Flush with the controlled agony of the Mating Fever, Dragek bared his fangs.

"It's precisely because of your condition that you'll be better equipped to capture the prince," Ashrael said quietly. "Since getting close to him requires a greater degree of stealth, and your ability to sustain qim is better than mine right now."

"I don't believe you."

"You underestimate the power of the Mating Fever. If you don't believe me, try it."

"What, now?"

Ashrael's dark eyes burned into him. "Yes. You haven't properly tested it yet."

"I don't know whether I want to prove you wrong or not," Dragek muttered.

"Are you afraid, then?" A subtle taunt had entered Ashrael's voice.

" No, " Dragek snarled, becoming irritated.

"Then try it."

" Fine. " Angry now, although he didn't completely understand why—cursed Mating Fever— Dragek slipped the death-mask over his face and gathered his ka'qui around him. He was surprised at how abundant it felt and how easily it came. Wielding the ka'qui had always come easily to him, but now it was as simple as breathing. He could feel Jade's thread woven amongst the energy, too. It sparked a powerful instinct within him. He wanted to protect her at all costs. To destroy anything and everything that had the potential to threaten her. He would pull down the stars and break apart worlds if he had to.

Surely, he was going mad.

But it was a good kind of mad. This insanity was like white-hot fire, burning away all the corruption.

Fine.

He spun the ka'qui in the way he'd been taught, letting it flow across his skinsuit, over his sheathed weapons and the death-mask. He felt himself slipping into the void, suspended halfway between this dimension and the next, and he almost found himself slipping away into his inner sanctuary to seek her, but he instinctively knew she wasn't there anymore.

She was awake.

Waiting for him.

He felt her worry, her yearning.

Energy flowed across his body, across his skin, and where he'd once strained to hold this form, growing fatigued in a very short span of time; it now felt as if he could stay like this forever.

He felt powerful.

Almost invincible.

It was both exhilarating and bitter, for his killing intent was heightened to an almost painful degree, and he craved violence.

She shouldn't see him like this; she shouldn't know what he was capable of.

But she'd already delved into the shadows of his mind and soul, and still, she wanted him.

Surely, the Goddess had to have a hand in this because, for a creature like him, it was nothing short of miraculous.

He looked at the warriors, who were all staring at him in turn. Kail made a sign with his fingers. Dragek had no idea what it meant—some tribal thing, probably. Kalan's and Rykal's eyes widened a fraction.

Only Tarak and Ashrael appeared completely unsurprised.

A low whistle escaped Rykal's lips. "That little trick of yours is something else. Never fails to blow my mind. You know, I normally wouldn't get all sentimental, but Arin says it's a good thing that I can. Tch. What humans do to us, hm? Anyway, I'm glad you're fighting on our side, Invisible One."

Dragek withdrew his ka'qui, emerging from the space halfway between into the cold, clear light of reality. Normally, entering the state of qim would have exhausted him, but he didn't feel tired in the least.

He could have held it for much longer.

Amun Kazharan wouldn't know what hit him.

"Do you understand now?" Ashrael asked.

"Yes. The Mating Fever is something else." In fact, after channeling his energy in that way, he felt a little better—less tense and irritable. Even the throbbing pain in his temples had lessened.

His yearning for Jade hadn't changed, though. If anything, it was more acute.

How in the Nine Hells was he supposed to fight like this? It was as if he was walking a tightwire between transcendence and total disaster.

"We've all been there," Kalan rumbled. "You'll manage. Just think of it as a bit of extra suffering before the reward. It's not like our kind are strangers to punishment, anyway."

Dragek quietly agreed, although he still couldn't quite understand why these hard-as-Callidum First Division warriors were being so understanding toward him. Not too long ago, he'd tried to kill one of their very own.

"You're one of us now," Kail said coolly as if reading his thoughts. "If you want to remain so, don't fuck it up."

"I am not going to jeopardize this mission in any way," Dragek snarled, his irritation rising again. "I understand what's at stake."

"Good."

"So the mission and our intentions are clear." Tarak took over, his voice ringing with the authority of command. He wore it so naturally, like a second skin. "We'll disrupt their tracking. Lodan will drop us onto the Caelix III. You will don an atmospheric suit and attach yourself to the exterior of the ship until Enki opens the airlock and brings us in. Then, we separate and search for our respective targets. Don't expect everything to go to plan. It never does. But we'll be behind you, and that outweighs everything else. Remember, the humans are to be preserved at all costs. Do everything in your power to ensure no harm comes to them. They're fragile creatures, and their bodies can't withstand the sort of punishment you or I can. You'll be provided with a comm through which I'll issue your orders and update you when necessary. If you find yourself in a life-or-death situation, you call for help. Understood?"

"Hm." To Dragek's surprise, a knot of emotion filled his chest.

What was this strange, irrational feeling?

Aside from his craving for Jade, there shouldn't be anything else. When the Mistress had sent him on a job, he'd always been as cold as ice.

But this was different.

In the past, he'd always worked alone.

This was the first time he'd ever been part of a team.