L?ck?h?? K??tr?

  In the past month, K??tr?’s thoughts had returned again and again to Dexton and his beloved leash.

  He had been so proud of it.

  A system, a clever balance of threat and reward that would force pirates to act willingly, to channel their worst impulses into something he could steer.

  She had believed it.

  Or at least, she had believed she was the one holding it for all who were under her heel.

  That she would hold it in her claws when all came to bear.

  Now she knew better.

  She had felt real control.

  Virgil had shown her what it meant.

  The machine could strip her of sensation, of emotion, of motion itself, leaving her conscious and intact, a prisoner in her own body if it so wished.

  The amount of reward was indescribable; she had believed she had reached the pinnacle of sensation, reveling in torture and bloodshed.

  It was nothing.

  No, it was less than nothing compared to what she could feel when she completed an order.

  Dexton’s leash was a joke by comparison. A child’s attempt to tame fire with ritual chanting.

  Virgil, however, was merely a tool; the real danger lay in the one using it, Ethan Scott.

  He was no pirate; he was military like that damned hound, and was less about shine and procedures than the old guy.

  The difference was stark and showed that, while Claye was content to bark a lot and bite when it hurt the most, Ethan was going for each bite he could get.

  Her situation was proof; she had been ordered to infiltrate back into Dexton’s dogs along with Axyatl, Thra'graxx, and Zhiné.

  Hardly a team-up worthy on paper, Thra'graxx was a zekarn, a lesser species coming from mud and aquaferns. Good for violence, their venom, and maybe mating if she felt adventurous.

  Axyatl was one of those Zeruth, a species she could barely call decent, ‘cause females ate the males during mating.

  And then Zhiné was a Sarlaccian, a former slave, a hulking thing one could spot a mile away.

  Finally, the most important of course, her, a former lieutenant of Dexton, the most valued person that there should be in all creation.

  None was a subtle choice, especially considering they should have all been dead.

  All of them worked, much to her surprise.

  Zhiné was able to reprogram the systems so they didn’t scan too deeply.

  Axyatl was able to jury-rig stuff up on the fly, allowing them to charge their batteries on the surface.

  Thra’graxx was the muscle and intimidating factor, no real surprise there, but was also a surprisingly smooth talker.

  The Dogs had been reorganized; her position was no longer vacant. That truth alone was infuriating.

  She had believed herself to be irreplaceable, but reality was a cold wake-up call.

  The one wearing her old authority wasn’t impressive. A Latflondar, broader than smart and louder where subtlety had once mattered.

  They didn’t need her.

  Her former subordinates passed her in the corridors, eyes sliding away too quickly. Some pretended not to recognize her.

  Others did and flinched, but she couldn’t even revel in their fear; the issue was that they were alive.

  More than that, they were welcome.

  Traitors, all of them.

  Men and women who had sworn themselves to her, who had benefited from her protection and her brutality in equal measure, now queued like supplicants.

  Dexton had decided that numbers mattered more than pride.

  Executions still happened, public enough to keep the fear sharp.

  But they were selective, former slaves, mutilated pawns dragged out to remind everyone else what disobedience looked like. Efficiency over loyalty.

  K??tr? ground her four mandibles together, resisting the urge to carve that lesson into someone personally.

  She would never have allowed this; she would have made a public display of all the traitors, broadcasting their deaths on all the screens that still worked.

  According to rumors about her tenure, this was the problem.

  Whispers followed her deeper into the station. Outposts stripped clean of life, but not looted.

  Different mouths told different versions: monsters, or the machines she now represented, or raids from the crazed Myar knight.

  No one agreed on what it was, only on the fact that people were disappearing planet-wide.

  There were, of course, bounties on samples.

  Biological. Mechanical. Hybrid. The wording was deliberately vague; the payouts were anything but. Enough to make fools brave and cowards ambitious.

  Enough to turn rumors into expeditions. Enough that Ethan was preoccupied.

  So that was it.

  Dexton wasn’t tolerating instability out of weakness. He was hedging. Letting the Dogs bleed outward, probing the dark for profit while keeping his core intact.

  Let others die chasing monsters. Let others bring back proof—or not come back at all.

  K??tr? felt a slow, dangerous smile creep across her thoughts; this chaos was familiar ground.

  She straightened, letting her presence be seen at last.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  She had to begrudgingly admit that Ethan had placed her where her value shone brightest: at the tip of the spear. And she would charge ahead.

  Ethan

  I sigh, looking at the carrier drones squirming along my still human arm, as I hold one forward.

  Why am I in this situation again? Right, I am the focus of this whole absurd collective.

  I look at Tessa, who came to watch. There are even a few refugee civilians I ended up saving.

  Better having them see than them cowering in fear for whatever reason, I suppose.

  I just hope this doesn’t get misunderstood.

  I focus on Yraesh, and finally, my eyes shift to Xalrak, my “oldest” prisoner.

  The two Li’thirwisz bonded fast, faster than I believed possible, and Yraesh managed to convince Xarlak to switch sides.

  With a catch, of course, there had to be a catch.

  “You should celebrate a new construct joining the collective.” chimes Virgil “One that is willing, according to your specifications.”

  I would argue that my specifications don’t include an artificial world chock-full of pirates and the pressure of possible annihilation.

  Is this how operators who set up militias in war zones feel?

  I sigh, having always been on the side that had to dismantle or break when things went wrong, rescuing people from impossible scenarios.

  I can’t drag this forever, even if I wish really hard I could.

  - Xarlak, you told me your people live by a code of honor. This is no honor. What I am presenting to you is a code of steel. A code of having to do what must be done.-

  I look at him for a beat, too bad I can’t tell emotions outside of the collective.

  - I can’t promise I won’t trample on your code. What I can promise is that you will have a long time to live with yourself when you do. Make no mistake, you will die as you are now. You will be reborn in a new perspective, one ruled by the need of the collective. -

  Xarlak inclines their head as the reply comes.

  - Ethan, unlike your species, which evolved through centuries, ours was elevated by another. The code is our way to prolong the servitude that was imposed on us. Given the choice, I believe most—if not all—would follow my steps. -

  - Wait. That would mean your species will die. -

  “That assumption is incorrect.” Virgil interjects, its voice threading directly into my thoughts. “That would mean the species will be preserved within the archives of the collective, and that as long as no critical systems are irreversibly damaged, biological reproductive functions can be preserved.”

  I flex a nonexistent brow. That wasn’t the point.

  Xarlak’s face shifted slightly before they spoke again.

  - This is what you cannot comprehend. Our species was artificially created. All those around us are very keen on making that point. Those who could believe in things like free will, like equality, are already under the flag of the Human Protectorate. -

  I sigh.

  - Believe me, I comprehend more than you realize. We did that to ourselves. We created pressure within our own kind, defined people as lesser simply because of where they were born. That kind of pressure is... -

  Xarlak stops me, reaching out and taking the carrier drone from my hand in a swift, elegant motion.

  - The point is, I have seen the change you are bringing. Back then, I served Vexx. I was muscle for hire. There were a few people here. Mostly prisoners. -

  Their grip tightens around the drone as it burrows into their skin.

  - Now there are more people than before. For better or worse, you are becoming an engine for change, Ethan. -

  A pause.

  - I want to be part of that change. I want the people here to be able to embrace freedom and hope-

  I touch Xarlak, and the rest of the carrier drones crawl from my arm into his body. They burrow in, and I’m surprised they don’t black out.

  Li’thirwisz are supposed to be humanoid-sized slugs basically, so maybe it’s about their physiology?

  “Incorrect. We have already mapped Li’thirwisz’ physiology by assimilating Yraesh. This assimilation is a cross-reference. Successful conversion so far. Template saved for further reference. Assimilation protocol: activated.”

  I don’t know whether I should be happy that Virgil acknowledged an assimilation that felt almost like a religious rite or worried because he saved a template. Whatever the hell a template is.

  I sigh.

  Intel had already flagged converging factors topside, across City 29’s ground level.

  The board was changing faster than I liked, with increasing heat on gathering intel about me and the collective.

  I’d need to accelerate preparations—waiting was becoming something I couldn’t afford.

  A vehicle wasn’t a luxury anymore.

  Mobility was no longer optional.