“Are you so eager to meet death?” Xin’ma asked.
The man laughed, half coughing. “I’m just curious to see if you could do it?”
Xin’ma almost appeared taken aback by the comment. “You would dare
mock
me?”
“Is that what I’m doing?” the man said. “I thought we were getting to know one another.”
“Continue to utter such insult and see your infidel tongue removed,” the older warrior threatened, coldly.
“Well, I’m all tied up for you,” the man retorted, defiantly. “So you should fare better than the last guy that tried to make good on his threats.”
Rho’uk himself was stunned by the remark, the human’s audacity catching him off guard. He would not have been surprised if his Overseer had lunged for the man’s throat right then, but Xin’ma held his footing.
“I will relish the taste of your blood as I spill every last drop from your infidel body,” he said, between clenched teeth.
“Yes, my blood, my blood,” the man returned, sounding bored. “The last guy wanted to drink it too. That didn’t work out so well for him.”
Xin’ma stepped closer then and brought his hand up close to the man’s face, his kul’ruuk blade ejecting from its gauntlet on his forearm. He held the blade in front the human so that he could view the deadly weapon, and note his hostile intent.
The man’s eyes remained locked with Xin’ma’s, but Rho’uk noted a slight change in them as he regarded the older warrior, something akin to recognition coming across his features. “I’ve seen one these before,” he said, eyeing Xin’ma closely. “And I know your face. I’ve seen
it
before too.”
Xin’ma’s eyes flared with rage and he struck the man, this time with a closed fist, his restrained body recoiling from the blow. He smiled at the older warrior as he raised his head once again, spitting blood onto the floor at his feet.
“Now I know where Shu’ma learned to throw a punch,” he coughed, his words laced with ridicule. “Like father like son.”
Xin’ma howled with rage then and lunged, his kul’ruuk arcing down for a killing blow that would cut the human open from shoulder to hip. Rho’uk moved to intercept his Overseer’s attack, knowing full well it would mean his own death, but stopped short as Xin’ma pulled back on the strike, holding the sharp blade to the man’s face. Rho’uk watched as the older warrior snarled at the human, his chest heaving with each hate filled breath, unsure if he would give in to his blood lust and follow through with the slaying.
“Soon your time on this plain will be at an end,” Xin’ma hissed, leaning in so that his face nearly touched the human’s. “When that time comes, we will stand here once more, and you will beg me for death. And I will grant it . . . slowly.” He drew away then, cutting a deep gash into the man’s face as he turned, walking swiftly from the chamber without a backward glance.
Rho’uk remained behind a moment, regarding the man as he watched the older warrior depart. Their eyes then met again briefly and the look of defiance left him, his head slowly lowering once more, his body sagging visibly. The man was clearly exhausted, still bloodied and battered from his wounds suffered in the arena, along with the new ones Xin’ma had bestowed upon him.
Rho’uk did not hate the human as his Overseer did. Or as Shu’ma had. He had respect for him. The man was a fellow warrior. He had proven himself of that much. Rai Chi or not, he was deserving of a warrior’s death. It was Rho’uk’s hope that the Gods would see fit to grant him one when the time did finally come.
SPACE,
NEARING GAIA
Hurling through the black void, on a direct course for the capital world of the Sect Dominion, Sierra couldn’t say that she wasn’t having serious doubts about her judgment . . . or her sanity. She was used to making decisions that risked her own life and those of the men and women she commanded. It was her responsibility to weigh those risks against whatever objective she was assigned, and if called for, make the necessary sacrifice to see it completed. She was able to do that because she believed in the cause they were fighting for. A cause that she had devoted herself to completely.
The Dominion was corrupt to it’s very core. It was cruel and it was foul and it was unjust. She believed that because she had seen the results of it’s cruelty and witnessed the depths of it’s injustice. And she had suffered them. She had lost friends and family to the tyranny of the Sect. Kam and Meera were the latest, but many had gone before them. So many names and faces, taken from this world for no better purpose than to feed the Sect’s insatiable hunger for power and control. And those were only her own experiences. The list of its victims was as long as it was devastating and it would continue to grow until the pillars of the Dominion were finally brought crumbling down. Only then would the beings of this system truly be free.
Yet none of that was the reasoning for what Sierra was doing now. She
should
have been returning Orna to her superiors. That was the sole objective of her current assignment, the mysterious being’s safety being paramount to everything. Nothing else should have mattered. Yet here she was, ignoring her orders to embark on a suicidal rescue mission for a bounty hunter she had only met days earlier. It wasn’t a stretch to say that the move was an uncharacteristic one for her. It flew in the face of everything she believed in.
The question she had to ask herself was
why
. Why was she doing this? What was motivating her to abandon her mission, something she would have considered to be unthinkable, to go after this man, a mercenary, really? Was it a sense of debt, one that needed repaid for his aid to their mission? Or was it something more personal? Sierra couldn’t deny the attraction she felt towards Jarred, but at the same time she also couldn’t believe that it would have the power to sway her judgement in this way. But then, she also couldn’t explain why she was risking everything for him. If she failed in the rescue and they were captured or killed, Orna would share their fate, and in either case, she would never make her way into the hands of the resistance. Kam and Meera’s deaths, and those of countless others, would have been for nothing.
Every fibre of Sierra’s being screamed for her to turn the ship around, to forget this foolish errand and complete her own mission. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She owed Jarred her life and was indebted to him for bringing Orna to them. Whatever other personal feelings were driving her, she was not yet prepared to acknowledge, but she was also not going to abandon him to whatever fate the Sect had in mind. She was going after him. It also didn’t hurt that everyone else onboard had similar intentions, and were equally, if not more determined. Even if she had wished to reverse vector and abandon Jarred, she guessed she would be hard pressed to convince anyone else of the same. Almost anyone.
Traug wasn’t exactly a willing party to their little operation, but Sierra hadn’t needed to push very hard for him to divulge where they might find Jarred either. He was a greedy little Trill, even by Trill standards, and his allegiances were to himself and his bottom line. His own skin would rank far above keeping quiet for the Sect. He had volunteered the information quite readily, though Sierra had wisely brought him along to ensure it was accurate. What she would do with him if it proved false went without saying. And if it did lead them to Jarred . . . she hadn’t quite decided what then.
Unlocking and stepping into one of the ship’s smaller sleeping quarters, she stared down at the slimy little toad she had restrained and confined within it since their departure from Isyss, contemplating what she would have
liked
to do to him. What she had wanted to do since setting eyes on him in Trycon. He had played a significant role in the deaths of a lot of people, including Kam and Meera. She wanted him to pay for that. Someone had to. A lot of someone’s had to.
“Are you planning to kill me?” Traug asked, sounding more curious than worried, from the bunk he was seated on.
“I’m considering it,” she answered him, honestly, as she took a seat on the room’s single chair directly across from the Trill.
“Even if your bounty hunter friend is where I have indicated?”
“That’s a big if.”
“I can assure you, he is.”
Sierra allowed a sardonic smirk to come to her face. “Forgive me for not taking your word for it.”
“Fair enough,” Traug returned. “In your place, I would be as skeptical. I am intrigued though, by the Sect’s interest in your friend. Are you not, as well?”
Sierra shrugged. “They want Orna.” She saw no point in skirting the issue. Traug already new a fair deal about their mission, as she was fairly certain he was the source that had tipped Durak off to their covert extraction and transport of the wanted being in the first place. “They believe he knows where she is.”
“As she is here with us, it would seem he won’t have much to tell them,” Traug said, thoughtfully. “I don’t imagine that will stop his captors from attempting to discern it from him though. They are nothing if not persistent. And unfortunately for your
unique
friend, they are also quite proficient at that sort of thing.”
Sierra wasn’t about to argue the point. She knew all too well what the Sect was capable of, especially when they wanted something. There were no limits to the depravity they would sink to. A depravity that Jarred very well may have been being subjected to even as they spoke. The thought made her blood run cold, though she didn’t allow it to show on her face. Traug was trying to get a reaction out of her. To trigger an emotional response within her and then play off of it. He was a master manipulator and would be searching for any sign of weakness to exploit towards his own ends.
“They aren’t the only ones,” she countered, coldly.
A sly grin came to Traug’s face. “My dear, while I do applaud your rather amusing attempt at intimidation, I’m afraid it is wasted on me. I have been threatened by the best of them, you see, very recently in fact, and please take no offense to this, but the thought of being tortured by one such as yourself would be rather pleasant by comparison. Besides, I have already told you what you want to know.”
“Not
everything
,” Sierra disputed.
“Ah,” Traug smiled. “There is something more you wish to know? Why didn’t you say so, my dear? If it is information you desire, there is no better person to have at your disposal. Of course, information does not come free. You will need to offer something to me in return.”
Now it was Sierra’s turn to grin. “How about your life?”
Traug’s demeanor did not sway. “I do believe that bargain was already struck, in exchange for the whereabouts of your bounty hunter friend. Additional information will require a new bargain.”
“What sort of bargain?” Sierra asked.
“Well, that would depend on the nature of the information. And it’s subsequent worth to you.”
“I want the name of the person that tipped you off on our operation with Orna.”
“Now,” he began slowly, his humorous expression changing slightly to something more calculating. “
That
is some rather valuable information. Frankly, my dear, I’m not sure you could afford it.”
Sierra allowed a sinister smirk to show on her face. “I think I might have something to barter with.”
Traug’s brow rose, curiously. “What are you offering?”
She put a cold chill into her voice, leaning forward. “The same thing I’ve always been offering. Your life. You tell me what I want to know, you leave here in one piece. Don’t . . .” She let the sentence hang, unfinished.
“As I said,” Traug returned, sounding mildly bored, “that bargain has already been struck. A new one-”
“There
are
no new ones,” Sierra cut him off. “No other bargains. This is the only one you get. Your life for Jarred’s whereabouts. Your life for the name of your contact. And your life for anything else I might want. That’s all I’m offering. You can accept those terms . . . or we can end our dealings now and go our separate ways. Yours will be through an open torpedo tube. It’s your choice, but don’t for a second fool yourself into thinking that this is a negotiation.”
When Traug didn’t immediately respond, she knew she had shaken his resolve, caused him to doubt his certainty in her willingness to kill him . . . or worse. And then she knew she had him.
“It seems that I’ve underestimated your ruthlessness,” he said, finally.
Sierra raised an eyebrow. “
Big
mistake.”
“It would seem so,” Traug allowed. “But, I’m afraid I still cannot help you. As much as I would like to meet your demands, I cannot supply information I do not have. Though, given the opportunity, it is a requisition I would be happy to pursue at your behest.”
“If we let you go?” Sierra said, finishing the Trill’s thought for him.
Traug smiled. “That would be a necessity, yes.”
“And what if I think you’re lying and decide to pry the answer out of you?”
He appeared to consider her threat. “That, is of course, your choice. But I would warn you that any torture you subject me to would do little more than force false information from a desperate being.”