John watched the Hynerian warship veer off toward open space, flash its running lights in farewell, then seem to stretch in length for a split-microt before disappearing into warped space back toward home and the trouble brewing there.
Before departing the Light Cruiser had transferred over a detachment of Empire Troopers and several attack ships that were now sitting in Moya's massive hanger bay, along with crates of supplies and armament, while the soldiers took up the empty quarters on tier seven. The human was surprised to discover that a combination of bipedal races actually made up detachment, with Hynerians really numbering only a handful. It had to figure when the astronaut really considered it, seeing mostly subjugated races made up a vast percentage of the Hynerian Empire.
Crichton allowed himself a warm smile as he recalled Rygel's unrelenting insistence that they allow the big warship to escort them to their destination, and then leave them with a tier full of Hyneria's best soldiers for their protection on the journey to look Chiana up. Because of the unsettled conditions still on Hyneria, the cruiser had to return home as soon as they arrived, but the trooper detachment would stay… "To protect my godson," Rygel had told them.
John grinned broadly at the memory. Making Rygel little D'argo's godfather had been John's idea, as it was a human custom. Though the others didn't get the joke whenever John did his Marlin Brando imitation while repeating anything Rygel had just said. They merely looked at him as if he had gone crazy and shook their heads. You'd think they be use to that by now?
Still, John thought it was seriously funny, even if the others didn't get it.
Rygel on the other hand, was ecstatic to have been asked to be the baby's godfather and took the role very sincerely. And Aeryn agreed it was the least they could do for all that the Hynerian went through during the baby's untypical birth.
"Well, the chaperone is heading home," Crichton drawled as he turned his attention to the command pedestal and checked a few readouts. Across the room, Aeryn looked up from whatever had her attention on a different control panel for the moment, and smiled brightly at him.
God, how he loved that stubborn woman, he found himself thinking.
"We have more than enough company left below decks," she replied.
John's boyish grinned returned. It hadn't escaped him that his wife seemed to be more at home and relaxed with a shipload of soldiers aboard. It probably reminded her of home.
"Looks like we'll be busy entertaining guests on this trip. Hope we have enough cheese and crackers in stores to last the trip," he said off-handedly, "The holidays can be so stressful… the in-laws over, annoying aunt Gertrude, cousin Morty who sits around in his underwear all day…"
Aeryn give her husband a chuckle. Sometimes she didn't have a clue as to what John was going on about, but after spending some time on Earth, she now had a better insight as to what made him tick… or not tick correctly in the Peacekeeper sense.
"I think I will leave you to handle cousin Morty," she shot back, "Meanwhile, Pilot says we will be arriving in a little over an arn. As D'argo is with Helga, I think I will stop by the hanger bay to inspect some of the new model attack ships the Troopers brought aboard. Care to join me?"
Ah… good ole' Nanny Helga," Crichton said, reminded of the further addition to Moya's crew roster that Rygel had insisted upon. "Every parent in the Territories should have one."
The being John had dubbed Helga, mostly because he couldn't pronounce her real name for the life of him, was close to seven feet tall by human standards and built like a Tank. She had skin that was as black as a Nebari's was white, and hands that were so large that John was positive she could crush his skull with them if she ever had the notion.
Rygel had chosen her from among his palace staff and sent her along… and she was absolutely devoted to the baby beyond all else.
The Hynerian ruler never would say for sure of what race she was from, not even Aeryn as a Peacekeeper had the slightest clue. But the alien's sheer size and muscular build led John to believe she might have been some sort of bodyguard, or soldier at some point… which may or may not have some reason to do with why Rygel was even more insistent that they take Helga along with them than he was with getting his way with the war cruiser escort.
"Might as well, there's nothing else to do up here," Crichton told her. "Besides I knew there wasn't much hope of keeping you from snooping around the hanger bay with those new hotrods aboard."
His wife shot him a quick grin, and then covered it with a stern serious look.
"Snooping is for spies, Crichton," she corrected mockingly. "Inspecting is what commanding officers do. And to refer to those finely machined, highly tuned, military craft as 'hotrods' is a grave injustice."
"I stand corrected," John replied with a deep bow. "Lead on, Captain Sun, and let us 'inspect' your finely tuned ships."
Aeryn suppressed a big grin and moved pass him to lead the way. Abruptly she paused just at the Command Tiers access doorway. "Oh, and Crichton… you did remember to hide that rickety Module ship of yours away in one of the storage bays, didn't you? I wouldn't want it sitting around the hanger bay and embarrassing us in front of the other pilots."
John's eyes narrowed at the jab, and then he shook his fist in pseudo anger at his mate.
"Watch it, woman," he warned. "You don't go ripping on a man's ride."
Aeryn let out a laugh she wasn't able to hold in anymore as she turned to go.
Little more than an arn later, Moya eased her way in to an assignment parking orbit around the commerce planet that she had dropped Chiana off only about a fourth of a cycle ago. Pilot contacted the planet's space command, but was superceded by the commanding officer of the Empire troops aboard. The helmsman was a mite irritated by the soldier's brass interruption during the initial permission contact, but had to admit the officer got faster results and a much better orbital position than he would have on his own.
Perhaps there were benefits to having a company of Empire troopers aboard to throw their weight around with port authority bureaucrats, he and Moya both agreed.
John and Aeryn climbed aboard a Transport Pod and scooted from Moya's landing bay, closely followed by a Hynerian Fire-Cudda – a transport gunship about the size of a Peacekeeper Marauder, used to move a squad of soldiers from place to place on missions, and armed to the teeth with gun ports. And two single-seat fighter escorts.
Aeryn piloted the Pod, while stealing envious glances out the windscreen at the sleek fighters that flew a defense pattern around the small convoy of ships. John wiped a sudden knowing smile from his face, knowing his wife would rather be in the cockpit of one of the fighters, than at the controls of a mere Transport Pod.
Space control cleared them to land immediately, but the ex-Peacekeeper bristled slightly at the insistence from the Hynerian flight leader that the Fire-Cudda be allowed to land first and deploy its troop element before the Pod set down.
"Its just the price of Sparky's love, honey," Crichton told her from the co-pilot position. "No sense getting all worked up about it. Let the fellows do their job."
"I hate being treated like a incapable feeble!" Aeryn barked. "I could fight circles around the best of them."
"Yes, I know," John replied. "You don't have to tell me. Lets just enjoy the trip planet-side and see if we can dig Pip up."
His wife grunted, still not appeased, but willing to bare the burden of being guarded like some toothless old rich fenik.
"Have you given any thought as to how we're going to locate Chiana?" she asked next.
"Of course I have," John said, producing an old comm badge with some obvious jury-rigged alterations and add-ons. "I rigged this old badge to track a second badge that I slipped into her travel bag."
Aeryn eyed the cobbled together device with some skepticism, and then pulled out a military grade tracker from a duffle bag at her feet.
"I probably had the idea first… and mine's better," she announced. I injected an isotope tracer into the handles of her baggage as well."
"Well, great minds do think alike," John responded with his usual boyish grin. He wasn't about to rise to being baited by his wife.
She pointedly looked again at her husband's homemade tracking device.
"Mine is still better… and will probably actually work," she finally added.
The agent nervously looked around the vehicle depot, and saw no one, not even the perimeter guards, nearby. He hunkered down behind a mobile frag-cannon's huge transport tracks and assembled his communication device swiftly, his nimble finger working confidently in the near pitch darkness thanks to long arns of practice.
"Yes, Lord?" he asked respectfully. He wasn't going to make the same near deadly mistake twice.
"We have word that our quarry has left Hynerian space, and is in fact in route to a planet in your sector," the Scarran crime lord said without preamble.
"Then I am to leave my operation here?" the agent asked. A new trill rose within him at his luck.
"Not yet," his master told him. "There has been a… complication."
"Of what sort, my Lord?"
"Our sources tell us that, this Crichton creature has left Hyneria for the purpose of reuniting with their Nebari compatriot."
"Nebari?" the agent said. "The same tralk that aided in the rogue's escape from House Arckatius?"
"Precisely, slave," the crime lord replied. "And in there lies a new foreseeable quandary. Our analysts see two distinct possibilities for this. The first is Crichton wants the Nebari girl to help him enlist the rogue assistance for whatever he has planned. We believe the prior Hynerian Dominar may have sent him to secure the rogue's services in re-securing his throne. The second possible complication we see is that the rogue will learn of Crichton's search for the girl, and he will leave your current location to join them. His past behavior concerning this female is unpredictable. And given what that rogue Shrike has done to High House Arckatius, and the fact that they cannot seem to eradicate him, his possible involvement with our quarry is not acceptable for any reason."
"And your orders, Lord?" the Syndicate man asked. He could feel his excitement building.
"You are to eradicate the rogue as swiftly as, and by any means, possible," the Scarran leader directed.
"That will be easy, my Lord. I have already been setting the groundwork for his removable among the troops here. None will question his sudden death and the operation here can be safely resumed anytime after we capture this Crichton if you wish."
He could almost hear the Scarran give a toothy pleased smile over the link.
"Excellent planning, slave," the Overlord praised. "You have done well… see that you keep doing so and you may yet go far in my House. The information on your prey has been encoded and relayed to your ship. As soon as you are finished with the rogue, depart the planet and head for Crichton's location. Other agents will join you there. Another House Shrike will be dispatched to take over your operation there so you need not concern yourself with it further."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Do not fail me, or my House," the Scarran said, and then ended the comm link from his end.
The agent disassembled his comm unit, all the while not believing his luck. He was going to kill the only Enforcer ever to escape House Arckatius and remain free… then capture and return to his House the man who held a secret that would enable them to rule the Territories, perhaps even the entire universe!
He saw great things in store for his immediate future.
"D'argo! D'argo!" Istrish shouted excitedly as she entered the common room of their hideout.
The big Luxan parted the curtains to his room and stepped out.
"Here! What is it?" he asked, with some growing concern.
The female Shrike ran up to him and threw her arms around the warrior. At first the Luxan was a little embarrassed, as the rooms had filled up with other ex-Enforcers as the word had gone out for them to assemble, and it had become more than clear that Istrish had more than just a passing interest in him.
Her next words put all that aside.
"We have found them! We know where the Leviathan is!" she said.
"Moya! They found Moya!" D'argo exclaimed, as he picked the woman up and spun her around joyfully. He set her down and grabbed her by the arms as he asked, "And what about John and the others, are they on board?"
"We don't know about that for sure," Istrish replied. "Only that they left Hynerian space escorted by a large warship and headed to a planet three sectors from here. We have agents observing the Leviathan and ready to follow them at a moment's notice should they leave. We'll be able to catch up with them no matter where they go now."
"That is the best damn news I've had in almost a third of a cycle," D'argo said. "I can't wait to be back with Chiana again!"
As soon as he said it, he saw the smile die on Istrish's pretty face. The warrior instantly felt bad, though he had been totally honest with the woman about his desire to be reunited with Chiana right from the beginning. Despite that, the woman never stopped hoping that the Luxan would change his mind.
He lowered his voice and attempted to maneuver the female Shrike into a more private area of the common room, which was difficult considering all the personal currently present. Still, most of the other ex-assassins did their best to appear to be not paying them any attention.
"Ah… listen, Istrish… I didn't mean… what I'm trying to say…" he started and stopped several times in his awkwardness.
"Its alright, D'argo," the Sykaran said. "You've told me right from the start where your heart lies."
The warrior sighed. "I know… it's just that I'm grateful to you, all of you. And I do like you and I have enjoyed out time together. We do have much in common, and if Chiana wasn't there, I'd be more than interested…"
She placed a finger on his lips to quiet him.
"I know," she told him. "I admit that I had held on to a small bit of hope, but you never led me on. You are the most honorable man I have ever met Ka'D'argo. I will still be proud to call you friend."
D'argo smiled.
"And I you, Istrish. I have learned over the last several cycles that you cannot have too many people that you can truly call friend."
She grasped both his hands in hers. "Then shall we go about finding the rest of yours?" she asked with a smile.
"Yes, it's been much too long," he confirmed. "Do you still have the trace on my son's ship?" Istrish gave him a nod in response. "Then it's time we let him know I'm still alive and arrange for him to pick us up. Tell your people to be ready to abandon this place within the arn."
Kenrikk looked up and stole a glance at his sister as he stacked the last of the recently cleaned trays away. Neither sibling had spoken during the rush to serve the last meal… and they hadn't been on generally good speaking terms lately anyway. Still, he was the eldest and it was his duty to look out for her – even if she detested it.
"I still don't like this," he said, and braced himself for another argument.
Jaleecee paused for a microt in her work as he spoke, but didn't turn around to face him.
"We are not going to talk about his again, 'Rikk," she said. "I am of age and it is my choice. Besides… we need the extra credits the work brings."
He leaned against a sink for a few microts and then turned fully toward her.
"We can make up the extra money elsewhere, 'LeeCee. There are other jobs here beside working for 'him'."
"I make an agreement," she countered. "Father would be disappointed if I broke my word."
"Father wouldn't want this!" he broke in.
She finally turned herself to look at him.
"Father saw nothing wrong with honest work," she said.
"Jaleecee," he began, "There is talk in the camp…"
The half-Nebari girl threw her washrag down in disgust.
"If those worthless benni-bags have nothing better to do than gossip, then let them," she exclaimed irately. "I have told you repeatedly – nothing is going on! Not that it is any of your, or anyone else's, business if there was!"
Kenrikk shook his head to keep her from ranting on. "That's not what I was talking about," he told her.
"Then what?" she asked, throwing her arms up slightly to indicate she was at a lost as to what he was referring too.
"There's talk about him, about the scout," he went on. "I don't think its safe for you to be around him."
"What have you heard?" she asked suspiciously.
Her brother drew a heavy sigh, and then indicated that the girl should take a seat at an empty table. Reluctantly, his sister sat down and he took a seat across from her so that they could put their heads closer together for a more private conversation.
"Go on," Jaleecee urged.
"They're saying… they're saying that he might be a spy," he finally came out and said.
The girl twisted her lips in a disbelieving frown.
"Who says this?" she demanded to know.
"Its not just any one person," he continued, "The rumor is going through the whole camp. I've heard the soldiers talking… and many of them are becoming nervous where the scout is concerned. They say he's a little too successful… and nobody actually sees him do any of the things that he's suppose to have done. They only see the bodies. Many say it's a trick and he's really working for the other side."
"That's Mualza dren!" the girl exclaimed. Kenrikk blinked in surprise, as his sister rarely if ever swore. "Korr is not a traitor!"
"He's a mercenary," he reminded her. "He fights for whoever pays him the most."
The thought seemed to strike something in the serving girl for a brief moment, but then she shook it off.
"No. No," she said firmly, "Not him. He's a good honorable man. I know him, "Rikk. He wouldn't do anything like that."
Kenrikk did his best to appear reasonable. His sister was much like their mother had been, stubborn and unshakeable when she believed in something… or someone.
"Think this through, Jaleecee. You've barely known him for a twelfth of a cycle," he said. "How much can you really learn about him in that short a time?"
She shook her head. "I know," she said, proving her stubborn streak. "I just know."
Kenrikk had the look of a man who was tired of beating his head against the wall. He reached over and took his sibling by her thin shoulders.
"Listen to me," he went on firmly. "You're my sister and I love you… and it's my job to protect you when I can. You may believe in this Tessen Korr, but too many others believe something else. I just want you safe, and not caught in the middle of something tragic."
The girl's bright eyes widened in sudden realization.
"What else have you heard?" she asked tightly.
"Nothing that could be proved…" he started.
"Stop it! Stop it right now!" Jaleecee cried. "You tell me now… what have you heard!"
Her brother sighed again and pursed his lips together for a moment.
"Some are saying that there are measures going to be taken to ensure there can be no betrayal on the scout's part," he finally told her.
"What does all that mean?" she asked.
"Jaleecee, these are soldiers we are talking about," he said, "You know the things they would do in cases like this. I just don't want you hurt when it happens."
His sister sat for a moment speechless, terror and fear mixing in her eyes.
A mortar explosion rocked the ground; shaking the ruined wall he was using for cover and sending a cloud of dust into the already hazy air. Sinn ignored it as he focused his attention on the holo-sight of his sniper rifle. The weapon's optic fed the target image directly to his visor's eye lens when they came in direct line with the holo-sight. The end of the long pulse rifle's muzzle rested on a sheared off section of wall, facing the enemy's battle lines.
The mortar round had been part of a saturation barrage, meant to keep the Peacekeepers to the east of his current position pinned down and from advancing toward the Scarran lines.
Neither side in the conflict knew that a third party had entered the arena.
He had scanned the battlefield in hopes of finding a target, but all the Scarrans commanding the line were further back, safely out of range. So he had to settle for prey of lesser value.
The Charrid who was acting as spotter for the mortar crew popped his helmeted head up for another look at their opponents, and Sinn settled the cross hairs of his sight on its head. The Scarran henchman placed a set of oculars to his eyes and began scanning the Peacekeeper lines for new targets for his mortar teams.
Sinn's finger squeezed the trigger of the rifle, and it bucked against his armored shoulder as a concentrated pulse bolt, barely as wide as his little finger, spat from the barrel.
Down range, a small hole drilled through the spotter's helmet, and the Charrid's head exploded a split-microt later. The rest of its body was flung backward into the trench it had been hiding in.
Sinn calmly drew the gun back in and leaned it up against the wall beside him. It would be awhile before any of the Charrids had the nerve to stick their heads out again.
He imagined right now the Charrids in the trench-line were fighting amongst themselves as to who would be the next unlucky one to act as spotter for the mortar crews. Until then, the mortars would just have to fire blind, guessing as to where the Peacekeeper positions were.
If Sinn were lucky, maybe one of the Scarran commanders would venture out to the front trench to investigate the hold up in firing coordinates, and he would get a shot at him.
A moment later a pebble rolled along the floor, followed quickly by a second. He didn't reacted, he knew who it would be. The small stones were meant as a signal that a friendly was about to join him.
A dark figure detached from the nearby shadows and soundlessly moved over to join him crouched by the covering wall. The new Shrike was smaller and carried a standard Peacekeeper pulse rifle, but still wore a hooded-cloak and battle helmet with face visor. The black armor that covered the second Enforcer was designed to fit a female body.
His secured comm link switched open a microt later.
"Horgo and Vennic have discovered a opened way behind the Scarran lines," Istrish announced over the channel. "There are three Imperium Scalies directing the fighting about eighty drenc in from the main trench line."
"Good," Sinn simply replied. He reached over and picked his rifle back up, then slung it muzzle downward over one shoulder.
"What do you plan on doing?" the Sykaran Shrike asked.
"To kill Scarrans," he responded as he strode passed her to retrace her route. The female hurried to catch up with the taller male Shrike.
"But what about us?" Istrish asked as she drew along side him. "What are your orders?"
Sinn halted and turned the gaze of his visor's red lens on her.
"I have told you… you can do whatever you wish," he said. "I did not ask or wish for your group to accompany me."
"We go where you go. We fight where you fight," Istrish replied stubbornly. "You freed us from slavery to the Syndicate. We will help you bring it and the Scarran society that spawned it down."
The taller Shrike regarded her silently for a few microts, and then said, "Then you are a group of fools."
He started walking again, and Istrish kept up.
"You are not the only one who burns for revenge," she continued.
Sinn issued a sharp bark of laughter over the comm channel.
"Revenge is only a small part… and not worth dying over for you children," the tall Shrike said. "You should all go while you can, and leave me in peace to do what I must. I don't want to be responsible for you."
The girl kept even pace with him, even as they dodge through the rubble.
"None of us may know the more dire curse of being an augmented Enforcer, but that does not give you the right to tell us that we cannot fight for the cause you started. Those of us who remained, chose to continue the fight to free our other brothers and sisters still under the collar."
"The you might just get the blotching chance to die for your cause," Sinn told her coldly.
"Then it will be a good death," Istrish countered.
"A trezog's death."
"Would it be anymore foolish to court death for a wrong done to a woman?" Istrish suddenly asked.
Sinn halted and whirled on her, his metal-clad hand seizing her around the throat and slamming her into a support pillar. The column chipped and cracked as armor plate impacted it.
"Never mention her again," Sinn said, the warning plain even over the comm link between them.
Istrish wasn't concerned for her safety. Her armor had adsorbed most of the force of hitting the quickcrete pillar, and not even he could come close to crushing the armor that protected her neck. She did however care greatly for the somber man calling himself "Sinn", and she would gladly endure anything – even abuse from him – if it helped ease whatever tormented her savior.
He had rescued her and most of the other ex-Enforcers in their group from the Black Syndicate, and thanks to him others had gone on to do the same for other Syndicate slaves, slowly increasing their numbers.
The entire group respected Sinn, but she had been the first he freed, and the one to have gotten closest to him – if one could actually ever be said to be close to the man.
It had been difficult, but she eventually had learned some of his story, about his escape from his House with a female thief and how they became separated. How he had found her again, only this time plagued by something left inside him by the Syndicate… something that apparently drove them apart once more. She wasn't clear on the ending of the tale, only that the girl believed he was dead… and he wanted it that way for some reason.
She'd have to be blinded and a total zeb-mib-itch not to see how much that decision weighed heavily on the man. She also wondered if it might have something to do with why he medicated himself with that herbal root he always carried. The reason for that, he would never explain.
"It is the truth though," she insisted firmly, "At least we are clear on why we chose the path we have. It is with respect from a Shrike to her Master Shrike, that I only wish for you to be just as clear also. It is as a friend that I would beg you to go to her, and at least let her know you still live. I would want to know if it were someone important to me."
Sinn eased his hold on her neck and eventually let go.
"It is not that simple," he said. "And I have asked you not to call me that."
He turned and started walking again. Istrish followed just as before. The group had taken to reviving the old Shrike legends amongst themselves. In a way it was a form of therapy to combat the horrors of what had been done to them, to turn the twisted version of the Syndicate Shrike Enforcer into the more heroic Shrike Warriors/Agents of ancient myth, and salvage something from their damaged lives.
It worked too; many of the freed Enforcers had even started to refer to the loose group as a Clan. It was positive reinforcement… helped along by Marktaal who was the group's sole source of the almost long lost romantic myth of the warrior Shrikes.
It was to Sinn's quiet loathing though that the members of the troop began looking to him, and calling him "Master Shrike".
They soon met up with the other two members of the assembly that had followed the reluctant Sinn on to the battleground between the Scarrans and Peacekeepers. Try as he might, Sinn could not persuade the freed Enforcers from coming with him, and he was hesitant to order them not to come. Doing so would have amounted to admitting he was in fact their leader.
And he was doing all within his limited power to refute that misconception at every opportunity.
As they joined the others, the Vorcarian Shrike, Horgo, dipped his armored head in a slight gesture of respect – which was rare for the spirited Bloodtracker.
"We have found a hole in the Scarran's defensive line that we can take advantage of, Master," Horgo reported.
Sinn's metal facemask was of course expressionless, but Istrish could well imagine that the Sebacean male wore a look of annoyance at the Bloodtracker's use of the title underneath it.
"Horgo and I have completed a recon inside the lines, Master Shrike. Their security is lax once inside as is Charrid habit," continued Vennic. The Szalned Shrike was head and shoulders taller than Sin, and his four arms made him a dangerous combative in hand-to-hand combat – even without the Enforcer armor and brace blades. He looked even more impressive standing besides the diminutive Horgo, who even with armor was still somewhat smaller in stature than Istrish.
Still the Bloodtracker was a vicious fighter, and he and Vennic had found that they worked extremely well as a team.
"We remained undetected until we returned to report our success," Vennic continued on. "The three Scarrans are stationed in a make-shift bunker approximately sixty drenc from the second 'fall back' trench line."
Istrish turned to him and suggest her first idea on an attack plan.
"We can go in covertly and eradicate the Scalies in the command center first, then on our way back out to link back up with Marktaal and his group, we decimate as many of the Charrids on the line as we can. Perhaps we can leave a big enough hole in their perimeter that the Peacekeepers can take advantage of it to wipe the rest of them out."
"Logical," put in Vennic, "Let them finish the job for us."
"Any plan where Scarrans die… I like," growled the Vorcarian cheerfully. "What say you, Master?"
Sinn regarded his three companions for a few microts. In truth, he carried little… as long as the Scarrans were wiped out. He kept to himself the disillusionment that had been building inside him. They have killed countless Imperium Scarrans during the conflict, but that did little to harm what he really wanted to hurt – the Black Syndicate. True, also the war was a drain on some Syndicate operations, and a few of their agents had had the poor luck to be operating near the front lines when the rogue Shrikes came through.
Still they had not done the damage to the organization he would have liked. The Imperium unofficially allowed the Black Syndicate to exist and operate, but the Imperium was now only one of many pillars on which the Syndicate supported itself.
It was coming time that he admitted that his efforts were only going in circles by working within the war to bring the Scarrans down. It was nearing time to attack the Syndicate more directly.
Istrish had been right, he courted death not only for the wrong that had been done to him and for revenge, but for what he had lost… or more, for who he could never have because of what he now was.
The voice in his head let him know it was grinning despite the drug in his blood system that dulled it.
Yes, he would soon go, leave this war behind… and this group of freed Shrikes, who oddly enough just might be safer remaining to fight on their own. He would disappear, perhaps for a few cycles if need be, while he watched and learn, gathering intelligence on the Syndicate. Looking for a weakness he could use while also amassing weapons and whatever else he would need. The mad old woman's root surely gave him enough time now?
Then when the Syndicate Houses least expected it, he would enact his vengeance.
The other Shrikes were still gazing at him as these new thoughts passed through his mind in just a few microts. Finally he hitched his slung rifle around and into his hands, then said, "I say if you insist on joining me, lets get to work."
Tessen Korr opened his eyes from the dream memory to gaze up at the canvas roof of his tent. That day on the battlefield when he decided to part ways with the rogue Shrikes seemed so long ago. So much had happen since then, the hardest being the memory of Chiana un-expectantly finding him hiding out in the pit fights.
The Nebari had been obviously in pain from D'argo's loss and she had begged him for a little kindness, even though she thought him a stranger.
And he turned his back on her and walked away.
It seemed everyone he encountered since becoming free from the Syndicate, he had betrayed. The Shrikes he'd helped free, Chiana – countless times now it seemed, and now this blasted serving girl.
Why couldn't people stop expecting so much from him and just leave him in peace? Don't they realize that the only important thing he could accomplish is to destroy the Syndicate? Or at least hurt them as much as he possibly can before dying?
He could live and die with that… if people would just stop getting in his way.
The collar's voice chortled in the back of his mind more clearly at that thought, and he absently reached for his herb pouch to take out a piece of root to chew. Within a few moments the specter in his head sounded further away as the drug took effect.
Still, the herb was taking a little longer to work every time now, and he had to keep upping the dosage. He wondered how much more he could go even with his augmented system before it cease to work totally, or he killed himself by accidental over-dose?
Korr sighed. Information on the Syndicate and its various operations had been harder to acquire than he anticipated. He had managed to gather some credits toward his cause, mostly from his winnings as a pit fighter and what he had made as a mercenary, however it wasn't accumulating fast enough to suit him and he was becoming edgy from the delay.
Mostly because the herb was beginning to lose some of its effectiveness on the collar's ghost.
He frowned as he began to consider one of his backup plans – stealing what he needed from fringe Syndicate operations. He had originally wanted to avoid doing such, as it would draw unwanted attention before he was ready. But his apparent situation was making that the better option now.
Tessen pursed his lips tightly as he thought. This civil war was quickly becoming a distraction, an excuse not to be on with his real plans.
And someplace where he didn't have to think about Chiana.
At least he tried not to think of her often, which was difficult with that obstinate serving girl running around underfoot all the time.
He blew out a hard breath at the reminder of Jaleecee. Before he left he was going to have to see about doing something to take care of her and her brother also.
It would probably put a huge dent in his saved credits, but that couldn't be helped.
"Why did life have to be so complicated?" he asked himself.
No good answer presented itself. The ghost in his head grinned from a distance.