Episode 28: Mine Adversary

Outside the gala hall, Sabera adjusted the dagger hidden in one knee high, white boot. Tonight, she'd abandoned her Prime Minister garb for a more eye-catching ensemble. Her pristine white dress flaunted every endowment she possessed. Zordar had chosen her because of this dress. Doubtless, it would loosen a few tongues tonight.

The moment she stepped into the hall, countless eyes fixed on her, including those of her primary target.

"General Nasca. So good to see you this evening." Sabera slipped into the small social group. "I'd expected you to be leading our incursion on the Diviner's territory." She knew full well he wasn't to be deployed until tomorrow, but bringing up an uncomfortable subject would prompt his lackeys to scatter and allow her opportunity to accomplish her goal.

Nasca's expression flickered at the mention of the Diviner, but he maintained composure. To expose his fear at such a public gathering would attract scavengers, and Zordar had no doubt instructed him and the other more superstitious members of the military to keep their beliefs to themselves until the conquest of Origin was over.

The general motioned a server over and took a filled wine glass. "Prince Zordar has said she is of little consequence. Besides, our forces have already contained her. All that's left to do is ensure she doesn't interfere with the remainder of our campaign."

Instead of scurrying away, Nasca's fawners laughed and grabbed drinks of their own from passing servants.

He was good at hiding it, but the too-frequent shifting of fingers on the stem of his glass, the too-enthusiastic smile, the occasional over-dramatic tone. He didn't believe what he'd said.

Nasca had been in Zordar's good graces since they'd left the homeworld, but his allegiances, like his vices, remained fluid, and though he'd never shown indications of abandoning Zordar, perhaps Sabera could discern a bargain the man couldn't dismiss, since playing to his fears seemed ineffective.

Sabera took a glass of deep green wine from a young server. Fingers poised on the glass' thin stem, she swirled the liquid and took a long draw of its aroma. "Intoxicating, isn't it?" She raised her glass, and Nasca clinked his to hers.

"As it ought to be." He sipped the wine, leaving a pale green stain on his lips. "My family has cultivated this variety since long before we left the homeworld to conquer the universe. To strong ties."

This time, the entire group raised the toast.

Sabera took another conservative sip, savoring the flavor. Three of the group took longer draws, nearly finishing half of their glass at once. Clearly, they had no appreciation for finery.

A nearby group of men laughed heartily and downed full glasses.

"Barbarians," Sabera hissed loudly enough for Nasca's admirers to hear. "Such disregard. It might be enough to earn time working in the reactor core. Perhaps when their sentences are over, they'll be more appreciative of their privileges."

The rest of Nasca's group excused themselves and scurried toward the other end of the hall.

Sabera took another sip of her drink to hide a smirk. Cowards. The lot of them.

When they were no longer in danger of being overheard, Sabera said in a low voice, "It's well known you've maintained loyalty to Prince Zordar these past decades." She edged closer and brought her voice down to a whisper. "I'm sure he greatly values you."

Nasca didn't retreat. "I'm sure he does."

"He must have great rewards planned for you once we annex Origin. Your own worldship, perhaps? Or a position of power in Origin's restructured government?"

"Prince Zordar has not chosen to reveal his intentions to me yet, but our lord will do as he pleases." Nasca's gaze swept to the front of the room where a trio of young women began the evening's live entertainment with a lurid ballad of three lovers.

"If I were the one dispensing the spoils, I would, of course, ensure you received something that reflected your unwavering loyalty. You aren't like the others. Gorse and Manic are occupied with their fleets. Dyre scampers about on petty errands. Bleak is so invested in developing superweapons he isn't aware of what's going on three lightyears away. And Torbuk and Scorch… Well, they've been far too obsessed with the Diviner as of late, haven't they? So much so they volunteered to keep watch over Telezart." Sabera chuckled and took another sip of her drink.

Nasca watched the performance with rapt attention, only interrupting his lustful stares to exchange his glass for a full one. At the front, a mob of attendees vied for the performers' attentions once the opening song concluded, and each woman left with at least one audience member in her company.

A group of six men took the crowd's attention. Each one boasted enviable features, though all six wore differing skin tones. Their song drew onlookers, and some attempted to climb the high stage base. Only two succeeded, and the performers gathered them into their group, adding the newcomers to their tawdry display.

Sabera spared the singers intermittent glances. As much as she loved a good showcase, she had more important things to see to tonight.

Her comm implant notified her of a new message. Marked urgent.

While Nasca was distracted, she read the communique.

Torbuk was dead. Scorch's fleet had fled Telezart. And the Original ship was to blame.

Gairen's vision of a ship accompanying the Diviner chilled Sabera, and she quickly closed the message. She'd hoped the old priest's words were mere ravings. Perhaps they still were. Gairen had been right about many things, but he wasn't omniscient.

With Torbuk gone, she had a clear majority among Zordar's generals. Scorch's actions would likely earn him severe punishment—or demotion—which would make way for a new, more pliable appointee to take his place. That only left Nasca for her to win over.

Sabera licked her lips.

"Delicious, isn't it?" Nasca had mistaken her quiet celebration for eagerness. He singled out one of the men on stage, a lanky youth just out of his teens. The young man's toned, pale skin marked him as Bolar, and his shoulder-length brown hair was tied back to exhibit his inviting face.

"Wouldn't it be nice to have the power to live as you please every day, and not just when the prince has no need of your military expertise?"

The youth on stage intermittently met Nasca's stare.

Though the general's eyes didn't shift, the corner of his mouth tipped upward. "That… would be most appreciated." He finally shot her a glance as the performers' third selection ended. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've an encore to solicit."

Sabera deposited her unfinished glass on a passing server's tray. As Nasca wove through the crowd toward the stage, she hid a predatory grin. All that was left now was to decide how best to dispose of Invidia.


Raucous music surrounded Masterson. He'd been inside the gala hall for nearly half an hour, doing his best to keep his back to the stage at the other end of the room as the performers entertained attendees with displays ranging from mildly suggestive to explicit. Already, his head pounded from the incessant noise, and the temptation to watch was nearly tangible.

If he could find just one person who would divulge Desslok's location, he and David could get out of here.

Masterson filtered through the quieter end of the room, careful not to sample anything offered to him.

"Prime Minister Talan." Invidia approached from behind. He'd been avoiding her since his arrival, hoping she wouldn't notice him.

"Princess." He kept a wary distance.

Invidia savored a glass of rich umber wine. "Why so dreary? We've brought the best Gatlantis has to offer." She gestured to the stage.

Masterson wanted to spit back an answer, but he bit his tongue.

"Oh. You don't like it." Invidia's tone turned condescending. "Have we offended your tender sensibilities? Does the subject matter upset you?"

"No, Princess. I've no objection to the subject, merely the public degradation and objectification of it—as if it were a thing to be twisted into whatever you desire and then bought and sold."

"But that is precisely what it is." Invidia openly watched the proceedings. "On Gatlantis, we've learned to deal in all commodities, and fulfilling such a basic drive is the most lucrative of all."

To calm his headache, Masterson focused on the understated pattern swirled into the smooth floor. "A tragedy. It is so much more than you realize."

Invidia snorted, almost spilling her drink. "And what would you know? I don't see you arm-in-arm with anyone. Unless that second-in-command of yours is more than just a shadow." She nodded to David, who conversed with two uniformed security personnel near a side entrance.

"Is it truly better to partake of every sensual experience than to exercise discretion?" Masterson waved away an approaching server.

Invidia's curt laugh was sharp, barkish. "Yes, Talan. It is. You should try it sometime." Her attention returned to the performers. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I'd like to get a better view. You can come with me or keep to your prudish self and leave." She dismissed herself from their conversation and threaded toward the other end of the hall.

Two interminable hours later, Masterson had waded through a third of the hall and reluctantly edged closer to the performers. Near a side exit, one young Gatlantean in security garb talked with another. His lax grin and lazy speech marked how much he'd already imbibed this evening.

"Shoulda seen it," said the young man. "That Gamilon standing over the princess like an animal, ready ta tear her apart. He was mad as the Pit. Princess wasn't much better. Could've roasted a whole rhok-rhok bird with the fire in those eyes." He and his friend laughed uproariously. "When they tried to cuff him the first time, he took out Berinfell."

The second man seemed to find this even more amusing than the first part of the story, and tears of mirth streaked his face. "Bet he was mad." The man drew out the last word before another loud laugh escaped.

"More like incurably shamed. Letting a Gamilon down you in a fight? Tha's just sad." The first young man shook his head and tossed back a shot of something bright pink. "Gammie's got no idea what he's doing, going after the princess."

It wasn't the first time Masterson had heard the slur, but it still made his collar seem too tight and his ears a bit warmer than they should've been. As much as he disliked and distrusted Zordar, at least the man had shown respect enough not to throw such basic barbs.

But if these two considered him inferior, perhaps the night's amusements would influence them to let slip valuable information.

The two men drifted toward the stage.

Masterson followed, maintaining a visual on his targets while doing his best to ignore the ongoing performances.

The men continued their conversation, but hearing them grew increasingly difficult the closer they came to the other end of the hall. When they stopped at a circle of other Gatlanteans—all of whom appeared under twenty—Masterson edged closer. Each member of the social group carried their choice of drink and wore finely tailored clothes of varying design. Several displayed jewelry that showcased their status as nobility. On every forehead hung a crimson crystal. The color reminded Masterson of blood.

In the middle of their circle was a child, no older than five or six. Tightly curled black hair, only a shade or two lighter than the girl's skin, framed an innocent face, and tears stained her cheeks.

Masterson dug the earpiece from the base of his comm to understand the child's speech.

"I want Mama." The girl clutched a ragged blanket and sobbed into one dirty corner.

An older teenage boy slapped her across the mouth and threw the remainder of his drink in her face. "Stop whining."

This elicited more tears from the child, whose lip now bled from the strike, and she cried for her mother even louder as she tried to soothe burning eyes. No one else seemed to care about the girl's distress. The few who walked by paid the gathering no mind.

One of the security guards hit the girl hard enough to prompt a bruise on her arm. He and the others gathered mocked her pleas for them to stop.

Masterson knocked into the chattier of the security guards. The man's drink spilled, leaving a wide splosh on his uniform. "My apologies." Masterson bit back most of the sarcasm.

"Oh look." The guard's finger hovered an inch from Masterson's nose. "It's another Gammie. Come to finally submit to Prince Zordar—your real lord?"

The rest of the group had stopped tormenting the little girl and turned their attention to Masterson. He met the child's eyes and hoped she'd take the opportunity to escape. "I need to speak with my sovereign," Masterson said. "Where might I find him?"

A direct question might not work, but it was worth trying.

The security officer guffawed, sending spittle into Masterson's face. "We've got a fancy one here." He held his half empty drink so close the astringent odor stung Masterson's throat. "Thinks big words will help him." He shook his glass, sloshing liquid onto Masterson's uniform. The resulting stain stank. "Well, I've got news for you, Gammie." He pushed his nose into Masterson's face. The man's breath reeked worse than his drink. "You won't see your little king again. Princess Invidia's got plans for him, and if he doesn't like 'em, he'll have an unfortunate accident involving an airlock. Or maybe she'll just keep him for her own entertainment." He gave Masterson a wicked grin. "Personally, I'm hoping for the latter. So much more fun than watching another corpse explode."

Masterson held his ground and resisted the urge to wipe his face clean. He kept eye contact with the inebriated guard even as the nearby performance throbbed in his ears, and he wished he were back aboard ship in his own quarters—or even the brig—somewhere he could find quiet. But this was the best information source he'd found, and he had to hold on until he'd found out what he needed to know, or David reported success.

To Masterson's relief, the little girl had slipped away unnoticed. Though he was glad for the child, the press of the crowd seemed to swallow him, make the room too full, too hot. He longed for a breath of clear air. But he had to accomplish his objective first—learn where Desslok was being held. If asking outright wouldn't work, he'd have to bait the man into revealing the information. "It sounds like you were witness to the entire event."

The young man stepped back to include his companions in his story. "Oh, I was first into the room. What a sight!" He began a dramatic reenactment of how he'd found Desslok and Invidia, avoided a hit, and helped subdue the Leader. He took a draw from his glass. "Nothing like hunting interesting prey. When the princess put him in that cell, he had the most disgusted look I've ever seen. So high and mighty. But he'll sleep in that filth-ridden box just as well as anyone else."

He seemed to have forgotten Masterson as he regaled the group about the day's adventures. The others devoured his embellished tale, laughing along and throwing derogatory remarks whenever Desslok was mentioned.

The whole affair lasted a good half hour, and with every minute, Masterson's concentration blurred. A pungent, purple sweetness settled over the room.

Stardust.

Masterson remembered well the thought-numbing effects of the substance. Adonai, preserve my mind.

The room hazed into a cloud of violet and fuscia. As everyone around him inhaled the drug-laden incense, everything quieted. Even the live performances settled into a lazy rhythm. The burning in Masterson's throat turned into an itch that extended into his mouth and sinuses, and he wanted to sneeze but couldn't.

Masterson's steps wavered, and the young security guard's voice slowed and turned indistinct as the Stardust took control.

Just like the last time he'd been exposed to Stardust, Aurelia appeared from the mist. Her black dress swept the floor, and her long red-brown hair flowed loose. The hallucination circled him before leaning in to whisper poisoned thoughts. "You will never find him, little Masterson." Her violet eyes glowed with ill-intent. "He is beyond your reach. You've abandoned him again, and this time you'll never get him back. He is lost. Give up now. Take Hadar and go home to Gamilon, where you can do some good. Leave this place. It isn't worth it."

Masterson swept a hand through the phantom, dismissing her momentarily. "Leave me alone," he rasped.

The young security guard didn't seem to notice Masterson's behavior. Or much of anything else, but he carried on with his story.

This was the chance Masterson had been waiting for. He closed on the young man and took him by the collar. "Where is Desslok of Gamilon?" The room tipped to one side, but Masterson kept his feet.

"Doesn't matter." The young man tried to bat Masterson away. "Gonna sit down. Rest a while."

He kept hold of the wriggling security guard. "Just as soon as you tell me where Leader Desslok is being held."

Aurelia's phantom reappeared. "He can't help you. He's already too dusted to remember his own name." She laughed. It was a harsh, bitter sound that made Masterson's ears ring. "If you think he can give you useful information, you're even more a fool than you used to be."

Masterson ignored the hallucination and shook the young man as he dozed off. "Where. Is. He?"

"You really wanna know?" The young man sighed. "Guess it doesn't matter. He's that way." The young man pointed to a side exit near the end of the hall. "You gonna let me go now?" He poked Masterson's exposed wrist. "Silly color. Blue skin." He laughed.

Masterson set the young man on the floor beside the now-quiet stage.

When he turned a bit too quickly, he almost fell, but caught himself on the edge of the stage and used it to stay upright as he headed for the door the security guard had indicated.

A young woman, sitting a few feet away, tried to grab him on his way past. "You seem nice. Wanna sit with me?" Her smile seemed genuine, but the look of deadness in her eyes spoke of a hollow sadness that gripped Masterson's heart.

"No. Thank you." He gently brushed her hand away. "If you ever have opportunity, leave this place. Find somewhere you won't be treated as merchandise."

The woman's smile faded to match her empty eyes. He wished he could rescue her—save every innocent aboard this cursed place and help them start over somewhere they'd be respected as people. Perhaps one day he could take people like this woman, that little girl, and thousands of others away from here.

Aurelia's phantom whispered cruelty and hopelessness to him as he staggered for the door. Every step was a prayer for help—to get out of this room and into clear air where he could think again.

Every half-dozen steps, Masterson stopped so he wouldn't fall over. Before he reached the door, someone bumped him.

"Get this on." David fitted a clear breath filter over Masterson's mouth and nose. The one David wore was nearly invisible in the fogged room. "Take a few breaths. You'll feel better in a minute."

He'd never been gladder to see David.

"Come on." David pulled Masterson's arm over his shoulders and supported him as they headed for the exit.

When they burst outside onto a suspended walkway ringing the gala hall, Masterson went to his knees near the walkway's railing to steady his balance and clear his senses. Below the walkway was a black emptiness extending into the belly of the worldship. Looking into the darkness too long made his dizziness worse.

A little hand tapped his shoulder.

"Thank you." The girl he'd helped escape threw her little arms around his neck. Her eyes were still red from the drink thrown in her face, but she seemed to be able to see without trouble. A child-sized breath filter covered her face. It was cold against Masterson's cheek, and it muffled her words, but the earpiece still in his ear picked up her words without trouble. "You saved me from the awful people." She clung tighter. "I couldn't find Mama. But you were nice to me." Her little blanket draped over Masterson's shoulder. Despite its bedraggled appearance, it was clean. "When those icky clouds started, I found the other nice man and told him where you were."

"How did you know to do that?" Masterson said.

The little girl pulled away, but kept her hands perched on Masterson's shoulders. "You have matching clothes. Are you friends?"

"Yes, we are." Masterson's vision stabilized enough for him to stand without wobbling, but before he made it to his feet, the girl grabbed his neck and held on, so he picked her up.

"Is the other man your friend too? The one who looks like you and wears gray?"

Desslok. But there could be other Gamilons aboard Gatlantis who fit that description. One way to be sure. "What color was his hair?"

The little girl pointed to a faded red-gold square on her blanket. "This color. I remember because it was like Mama's hair."

Aurelia's phantom chose that moment to reappear. "It's a fool's dream to think she knows where he is, little Masterson. You know that. How trustworthy is the word of a simple child? Perhaps she's dusted too. You know how the incense muddies the mind."

Masterson turned his back to the apparition. "Did you see him? The man in gray?"

The little girl nodded and pointed the same way the security guard had. "He's in a big white box."

A detention area. Just like General Dyre had said. "David, do what we discussed earlier."

"You took in a lot of Stardust back there. You sure you're all right?" David said.

Masterson nodded, then regretted the gesture when dizziness hit him. He grabbed the walkway railing for balance while keeping hold of the little girl. "I'll be fine. If anything happens, I'll let you know."

The girl gave him a questioning look as David hurried toward a connected walkway opposite them.

"My friend's got something important to take care of. Do you think you can show me where my other friend is?"

She nodded. "I remember the whole way there. Mama has to go there sometimes to fix things."

"Is your mother there now?"

"Maybe. I don't know. She wasn't supposed to be at the big party. I wasn't either, but those mean people found me outside and made me come in. Then they hit me and laughed at me." The little girl rubbed bruised arms and hugged her blanket as tears welled in her eyes, and her lips trembled.

"What's your name?"

"Kiimi," she sniffed.

"It's all right, Kiimi." Masterson let go of the railing and let the girl sink into his arms. "You're safe with me. We'll find your mother and my friend."

The girl brightened and rubbed her teary face on her blanket. "We will?"

Masterson nodded. "Promise."


Invidia passed groups of dusted revelers. Most stared unblinking at visions only they could see, but some ambled aimlessly, looking at their surroundings with dust-clouded eyes.

Sometimes, she envied those who still experienced visions from such a diluted dose of Stardust. Today, she enjoyed the surge of boldness that flooded her instead of lucid dreams. The Stardust made her feel dominant, in control—her senses more acute.

Nearby, the air around one exit door was clearer. Someone must have left recently.

She stepped outside onto the railed walkway that led further into the bowels of Gatlantis. This was the closest route to the detention block where she'd left Desslok.

Was he complaining about his accommodations? Or had he already taken to pacing like an animal?

His sentence for assaulting her would be meted out soon enough. She absently rubbed healed wrists. They still ached, but that would pass over the next few days, and by week's end there would be no trace of the fractures. But she owed Desslok pain, and now seemed the best time to repay that debt.

She exhaled a cloud of bright pink and headed for Detention Area 13.


Masterson used the walkway railing to keep his balance. Every few minutes, his vision grew clearer and his steps steadier.

Kiimi directed him as she clung to his neck, and within twenty minutes they'd reached their destination.

"Don't go in the big door," Kiimi said before Masterson approached the entrance to the detention area. "There's a man with a gun there who doesn't like people going inside. We should use the same door Mama does." She pointed to a bend in the walkway that snaked around the front entrance and curved out of sight.

Masterson followed the path until he found a stairwell leading to a recessed entrance nearly hidden by the walkway's shadow. The door was labeled in Gatlantean, but his comm translated for him. Service Entrance. Surely it would be locked.

"Can I get down now?" Kiimi said.

Masterson set the girl on the floor, and she touched the access panel beside the door.

"Okay. We can get in now. Mama made it so I could open the door in case I needed to find her."

They entered the underbelly of the detention area. Suspended high above them were hundreds—maybe thousands—of square cells. Each one was barely big enough to allow its occupant room to pace. The inner workings of the cells' suspension and mobility systems surrounded Masterson, and Kiimi darted through the maze as if she knew every inch of it.

"This way." Her little voice reached back to him, drawing him further into the crystalline and metal labyrinth.

As Masterson followed Kiimi, Aurelia's phantom re-materialized beside him. "She's leading you into a trap. This place is enormous. Even from here, you can see that." She swept a hand to indicate the suspended cells. "And this is only one of hundreds of places just like this. He might be here. He might not. Either way, you'll never find him." She vanished with a biting laugh that left Masterson reluctant to continue.

She's wrong. He repeated it several times until he found the will to keep following Kiimi. Adonai, prove her wrong. Please

"Mama!" The little shout of joy from up ahead gave Masterson the push he needed. When he reached Kiimi, the little girl was wrapped in her mother's embrace.

"There you are." Relief filled the woman's voice. She couldn't have been older than mid-twenties, but she looked a decade past that. Smudges of grease and dirt covered her clothes and patched her dark skin, but her hair was a striking red blonde, just like Kiimi had said. "What happened?" She studied each of Kiimi's bruises with ample concern.

"Mean people…" Kiimi hid behind her blanket. She pointed suddenly at Masterson. "He helped me get away from them."

The woman seemed to have just noticed him, and she grabbed Kiimi and scrambled several steps backward.

"No, Mama. It's okay. He's nice."

The woman kept a protective hold of her daughter. "Why are you here?" Her voice trembled, but Masterson wasn't fool enough to think she wouldn't attack him if she thought him a threat to Kiimi.

"I've come to see my lord released." He bowed to her. "I owe your daughter my thanks for her help in guiding me to this place."

Her nervous laugh said she didn't completely believe him. That, or she thought him a fool. "No one leaves here except under the direct order of Prince Zordar, Prime Minister Sabera, or the Princess Invidia. There are men and women locked in this cursed place who have been here since we left the homeworld decades ago. Some have lost their minds. Others cope by inflicting pain on themselves or plotting escape." She edged in front of Kiimi, making herself a barrier between him and her daughter. "But there is no escape from Gatlantis." The pain in her eyes said she'd tried.

"There can be—if you'll help us." Masterson extended an open hand. "Leader Desslok and I would be in your debt. We have a ship ready to leave right now. But I don't know where the Leader is being kept, and I don't have enough time to search every cell. If you know where he is, please, tell me, and we can all leave this place."

"He's the man in gray," Kiimi supplied from behind her mother. "You said the princess really doesn't like him, Mama. Remember?"

"Yes, baby, I remember," she said to Kiimi without taking her wary gaze off Masterson. "I've been offered hope before, Gamilon. If this is a way to get what you want without paying for it, and you renege on this offer, my daughter and I will forfeit our lives. My life isn't worth much, but I'll kill before I allow my little girl's blood to be spilled for a lie."

Masterson didn't withdraw his hand. "It's no lie."

Kiimi tugged the woman's sleeve. "Trust him, Mama. He said he would find you, and he did."

"It's one thing to bring a child to her mother. It's quite another to offer freedom to the enslaved." The way her hand twitched, the tension in her stance, the way one foot edged in front of the other. She wanted to take Masterson's offer, but if she accepted, and they failed…

"I understand your hesitation. If I were in your place—"

"But you aren't," she bit back. "You never have been, and you never will be. What do you know of slavery? Imprisonment? Being treated as property? You, with that uniform—your marks of office. The only dirt on you is safely on the soles of your boots, and even that stain is from finer wine than I've ever even seen." Angry tears traced her cheeks. "You don't understand—"

Masterson stepped forward and embraced the woman.

She beat a fist against his chest but didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Sorry you've been treated like anything other than a person. I can't change what's happened to you, or Kiimi, but I can help change what will happen."

The woman wept into his shoulder. Her tightly curled hair bunched into his neck.

When she did pull away, her eyes were clear, and she pulled in a last sob before holding her head high. "He's in 13-27-88-9. I remembered the number because he's the first prisoner I've seen Princess Invidia personally escort. Whatever he did, it must have incurred her wrath."

"Oh, it did." Masterson released the woman. The filth on her maintenance jumpsuit had transferred to him. But it hardly mattered.

"Good. I never liked her much, anyway." The woman extended a hand to Masterson. "I'm Alina Tuvalin of Enrithal."

Masterson accepted her hand and grasped it firmly for a two-count. "I thought the Enrithali were all—"

"Bolar? Most of us are, yes. But some, like me, have a more interesting genetic history." She ruffled Kiimi's curls. "We're going upstairs, baby. It's time to be extra quiet."

Kiimi nodded, and her little footsteps made no sound as they headed for the winding stair that would take them to the walkway above, where they could access Desslok's cell.

"There's a gatekeeper at the front door," said Alina. "He knows me, but if he sees you, he'll have the whole worldship on alert before you can blink. I'll lure him away from the door so you can get behind him. Please, tell me you've got a decent swing. I'll do it myself if I have to, but I'd rather spare my hand."

Masterson nodded. "It's been some time, but I haven't forgotten how."

Before they started up the stairs, Alina stopped Masterson. "If you truly do take me and my Kiimi away from this place, we'll be in your debt. Even if we don't succeed, I'd like to know the name of the man who showed kindness to my little girl."

"Masterson Talan."

"A strong name. Noble." She chanced a half-second smile before taking the first stair. "I hope you like to climb, Masterson Talan, because we have a long way to go before we reach that landing." She tipped her head toward the walkway hanging far above them.

Masterson followed Alina and Kiimi upward, ignoring the burn in his legs. If this was the highest price he paid to free Desslok and these two today, it was not even worth mentioning.


Invidia marched through the entrance to Detention Area 13. Her earlier bravado was waning, but not enough to dissuade her from her intentions. She easily found and summoned Desslok's cell to the nearest access platform.

"Gatekeeper, your weapon," she called toward the entrance.

What punishment should she inflict on Desslok while he was at her mercy? She could torture him. That would be amusing, but not satisfying enough. Besides, she didn't want to damage him too much lest she decide to keep him for herself. She knew where his little sycophant Masterson was. It might be better to tear him apart instead. Make Desslok watch as his loyal prime minister lost pieces of his mind before dying in agony. Yes, she liked that much better. But before she stripped Talan of his mind, she'd administer a few minor injuries to Desslok, just for fun.

Her hand was poised to open the door. "Gatekeeper!" she called louder.

"He's not coming." Prime Minister Talan approached, the gatekeeper's rifle aimed at her. A bruise warmed the side of his face, and he'd have a black eye before the morning. The knuckles of one hand appeared swollen, and his hold on the weapon was loose at best.

In one seamless motion, Invidia drew the knife strapped to one thigh and hurled it at the Gamilon.

He moved too late to dodge, but soon enough to catch the blade with the rifle instead of his shoulder.

The gatekeeper's weapon clattered to the walkway and slid toward Invidia.

She grabbed it and trained the sights on Talan. "It seems you've miscalculated again. If you so much as twitch, I'll kill your precious Leader." Her hand hovered over the control panel again. "Now, let's see what he thinks of this touching reunion." She tapped the panel, and the cell door slid open.

Desslok burst from his cell and slammed into Invidia. He twisted the rifle out of her hands and jammed the barrel into her neck, pinching her delicate, porcelain skin.

She grabbed the rifle barrel and forced it out from under her jaw, but Desslok adjusted his grip on the weapon, swung behind her, and pinned both her arms against his chest before forcing the rifle barrel back under her chin.

As the last of her Stardust-induced courage evaporated, she clawed for freedom, but Desslok twisted her arms until moving even one finger caused debilitating pain. "Release me," she fumed.

Desslok leaned close and hissed in her ear, "You're not going anywhere unless I tell you to."

"Leader Desslok." Talan's relief was tangible. How sickening to be this devoted to anyone other than yourself.

"Talan." Desslok's tone held hints of… gladness? How repulsive!

"Sire, it's good to see you are well." Talan came closer but kept enough distance from Invidia to avoid a potential kick. Disappointing. But the uncertainty lingering in his face as he looked at Desslok was interesting.

"I'll be far better once we're elsewhere." Desslok kept the rifle snuggly in place. Talan wasn't the only one who would have bruises in the morning. Already, Invidia's jaw ached from the excessive pressure of metal against skin.

"I've made arrangements," said Talan before signaling a child and a woman in dirty maintenance clothes from the Gatekeeper's alcove near the door.

So, that was how Talan had gotten in here. "Traitors," Invidia spat at the woman and girl. "I'll have your skins for a cloak." She choked on the last word as Desslok rammed a knee into her lower back.

"If anyone here's to suffer, Princess, it will be you, especially when your father discovers you've interfered with his order for me to eliminate the Eratite ship." Desslok shoved her toward the exit.

She fought to hold her ground, but he overpowered her in seconds. The Gatekeeper's unconscious body came into view as they passed the alcove and left the detention area.

Invidia battled Desslok for every step as they trekked through unmarked walkways, dimly lit streets, and unoccupied alleys until they emerged at a transit station just as an air-car pulled up to meet them at the bottom of the nearest set of stairs. The brightness of the station stung Invidia's eyes after such a long walk in the dark.

The woman and girl crammed into the narrow bench in the back of the vehicle.

Masterson made it halfway down the stairs before stopping to wait for Desslok.

Invidia made every stair step as difficult for Desslok as possible, but by the time they'd reached Talan, she was spent from the trek.

"She'll only keep slowing us down, Sire," Talan said. "Leave her. We've enough to navigate without an unwilling party continuing to attempt sabotage of our every step. We must get out of here before we're no longer able."

If he let her go, she'd make him regret his mistake.

"You do have a point." Desslok's grip on Invidia tightened just before he flung her up several steps.

The instant she was free, Invidia swung at Desslok, but the move only threw her off balance, and she flailed to catch the railing to keep from tumbling down the stairs and earning even more bruises.

Desslok's hard stare followed her even as he sprinted after Talan and claimed the air-car's spacious middle bench. Talan jumped into the front passenger's seat, and another Gamilon—the man Talan was so fond of keeping around—merged into the stream of passing traffic.

With abundant curses and more than a few personal insults for both Desslok and Talan, Invidia found the dock harboring Desslok's flagship and shut off their access to it. Without a ship, Desslok was still just as trapped as he'd been inside that cell.

Invidia opened a comm line to all on-duty security personnel. "A political prisoner has escaped. Retrieve him and bring him to me. I'd like to deal with him personally."


As they wove through Gatlantis traffic, Desslok kept hold of his liberated rifle as he tracked every air-car behind them in case they were followed. Not that he was foolish enough to think there wasn't a tracker on every vehicle inside the worldship. Finding them wouldn't be terribly hard.

The little girl in the backseat popped into his line of sight, obscuring the gray and white streams of vehicles.

"Move," he said.

She gave him a curious look. "Why?"

"Kiimi, stop bothering him." The woman tugged the girl—presumably her daughter—back into her seat. The look on the woman's face and the way she avoided his eyes said she at least knew he carried status far above hers.

"I see you've picked up strays, Talan."

"They helped me find you, Sire. If we leave them here, their lives are forfeit."

The woman's dirty uniform identified her as part of the maintenance staff, and the child's ragged clothes marked them as members of the lower class. But he knew what it was to be relegated to poverty—at least for a time.

"You renounce your loyalty to Gatlantis?" Desslok said.

The woman nodded without looking up.

"Very well. You have my thanks."

"You're welcome," said the girl, who met his gaze without fear. Before her mother could grab her, she'd climbed into the seat beside Desslok and made herself at home.

Masterson opened a map of the worldship on a comm that clearly wasn't his. "We've got to get back to the docks quickly."

"I see you've found a way to procure a comm, despite my precautions." Desslok nodded to the device in Masterson's hand. "I should have known even the brig couldn't keep you confined indefinitely. You have an irritating habit of defying my orders, Talan. But you also persist in saving my life."

"I keep my promises, Sir," said Masterson. "We'll make the docks within ten minutes." It was a well-executed sidestep. They'd discuss the matter of his insubordination later.

"Call from Zeresh," said David Lysis from the driver's seat. "They've locked down the dock. We can't get in, and they can't get out."

"Tell him to stay there," Masterson said. "Don't try to leave. We'll find a way to get the ship released." When the call ended, Masterson summarized. "The flagship's inaccessible."

"What's 'in-ak-sess-ih-ble'?" said the girl—Kiimi?

Her mother started to silence her.

Desslok interrupted. "It means we can't reach it."

"Oh." Kiimi hugged a wadded blanket. "That's bad."

"If we had another ship, it wouldn't be so troublesome."

"Hadar!"Masterson looked up another dock number. "She stayed in port after we left Gatlantis the first time." He changed their destination on the map, and Lysis adjusted course for the other ship's dock. "Comms are down. I can't reach them."

They arrived minutes later and disembarked. Lysis sent the air-car on its way, and Desslok led them through the dock doors as Hadar's boarding ramp lowered, and the senior officer onboard came to meet them.

"Leader Desslok." The man bowed. "It—it's good to see you alive, Sire."

"See to our guests." Desslok indicated Kiimi and her mother before handing off the Cometine weapon and heading for the bridge, Talan and Lysis on his heels. "Get us out of this accursed place," Desslok said as he took the captain's chair. "We've lingered here far too long."


Invidia slipped back inside the gala hall just as attendees were rousing from their Stardust-induced stupors. She'd hoped to be expressing her displeasure by shoving a blade through Prime Minister Talan's vital organs, not hiding from her humiliation in a sea of strangers. How could she have forgotten about the other Gamilon ship? Of course, they'd run to it when their flagship was cut off.

She sought solace in a fresh drink—a sunset-colored liquor that smelled of citrus and spice. The security force had strict instructions not to tell her father what had transpired with Desslok, and well-placed resources within the communications network would block any incoming messages from the Gamilons. If she couldn't have victory, at least she could save face.

"Not enjoying your evening?" Sabera slithered up to Invidia. "Nasca left a few hours ago with his prize for the night. Where's yours? Surely you found something here you like." She sidled a bit close for Invidia's liking. If she still had her knife, she'd have drawn it. "Where were you off to earlier?" The venom in Sabera's voice said she already knew.

Whoever had told her would soon find themselves bereft of a tongue.

"You were a fool to think you could fell that man alone." Sabera crossed sultry arms. "You're no match for him—even with your little dust-high. What made you think you could cage him with those puny wits of yours?" She sneered. "He got away from you so quickly." She poked the bruise under Invidia's chin and snorted a laugh. "Unfortunate. But wouldn't your father be interested to hear you called the Gamilon back without his knowledge? And what's worse, you've made him mad. So much news to share with the prince." She reached for her comm implant. "I simply must let him know all the thrilling things he's missed."

Invidia grabbed Sabera's hand before she could open a call to Zordar. This couldn't get out. "What do you want?" she hissed.

Sabera leaned close. "Support the conquest of Telezart."

Invidia's stomach twisted. If they attacked the Diviner's world, they'd suffer for it. Gairen's prophecies had warned them to stay away. If they disregarded the Warbringer's wisdom, they'd face dire consequences. If it had been anything else, she'd have agreed. She'd even have thrown her lot in with Sabera against Zordar if she'd demanded it. But this… This she could not do. "No."

"Then you won't mind if I speak with your father." Before Invidia could stop her, Sabera opened a direct channel to Zordar and recounted Invidia's actions with embarrassing detail.

Invidia's comm notified her of an incoming call from her father. She didn't dare reject it.

"Invidia." He said her name as if she were a petulant toddler, caught stealing sweets. "Your foolishness has gone too far." Zordar's stern voice rattled through her. "Your banter with the Gamilon was amusing, but now you've made an enemy of him. To bring him back into our good graces, I'll have to rectify your mistakes. This is inexcusable. From now on, you will follow Sabera's instructions. You will not defy her or me in anything. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father." She didn't dare challenge him. Not now. But her hatred for Sabera burned hot enough to sear her throat. Sabera would pay for her actions tonight. Invidia would make sure of it.


Two hours after their departure from Gatlantis, Hadar received a message from Zordar himself, but Desslok didn't bother standing to greet him.

The prince's expression betrayed boiling rage, but it wasn't directed at them. "My apologies, Desslok. The misunderstanding with my daughter has been… corrected. She will not bother you again. Your flagship has been released to you and will arrive at your location shortly. Your crew has not been bothered, and you are free to continue your pursuit of the Original ship at your convenience. Updated intelligence on your target's location will be uploaded to you within the hour. Good hunting."

Three-quarters of an hour later, Desslok's flagship dropped out of warp.

Zordar proved true to his word. The crew was unharmed, and a fresh load of supplies filled their hold. Even Morta was still locked in his cell—to the brig staff's dismay.

Masterson followed Desslok aboard, and though some looked askance at him, most seemed relieved at his presence. When they reached the bridge, Desslok waited until the crew was out of earshot before addressing Talan. "You may remain at my side, but you will not undermine me again. If you cannot uphold that, I will make provision for you to return to Gamilon immediately."

The pain in Masterson's face testified to the conflict between belief and duty raging inside him, but if he was to stay, he'd have to choose. "I… will do as you command."

"Good. Now get to the infirmary and have that eye and hand looked at. I'll not have my second-in-command blind and maimed."


The bitter taste of the promise Masterson had made to Desslok still lingered twenty minutes later when he got back to the bridge, hand wrapped, eye and face salved. He stood at the back of the bridge and called David. "Stay aboard Hadar. Take the crew back to Gamilon, and make sure Alina and Kiimi find safe haven."

"Pardon, Sir," said the ship's former acting captain, "but my crew and I have decided to join the Leader's fleet. When he goes home, so will we. Until then, we're bound to him, and the only stop we'll be making is to bring our passengers to port."

"I'm not leaving either," Alina crowded into view. "Gatlantis never gave me anything, but you, Masterson Talan, gave my girl a chance to live. I've worked with my hands my whole life, and if I can be of use to this crew and this fleet, I'll do it. And should the need ever arise, I have detailed knowledge of Gatlantis. If you need to know any of her secrets, please ask."

Masterson wanted to tell them he couldn't let them do this. They didn't know what they were walking into. David, as Hadar's captain would have to walk a knife's edge every moment if he agreed to this.

May Your will be done, Adonai. "Are you sure this is the choice all of you wish to make?"

Everyone nodded, David included. "I'll see to it Kiimi's safe, then we'll follow you."

"Very well." The finality of those words rang through Masterson as he hung up.

"So, we've another ship to add to our fleet," Desslok said. "A paltry recompense for the ones the Eratites slaughtered. But allies are allies." The gleam of vengeance in Desslok's eyes when he spoke of the Eratites made Masterson's stomach seize.

Only Adonai could intervene now.


Episode 28 Notes:

The title for this episode was taken from Isaiah 50:7-9

For the Lord God will help me; therefore shall I not be confounded: therefore have I set my face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be ashamed.

He is near that justifieth me; who will contend with me? let us stand together: who is mine adversary? let him come near to me.

Behold, the Lord God will help me; who is he that shall condemn me? lo, they all shall wax old as a garment; the moth shall eat them up.