Page 71 of Clan and Command

Diwal pulled a blade from his belt. It glittered like the cruel smile of a killer, cold and heartless in the glare of the too-bright lights. With a low, demented chuckle, the Nobek pressed it to Piras’s upper abdomen, just below the breastbone.

“Diwal, wait. I’m not worth your career. They’ll court martial you for this,” Piras panted.

“I doubt it. I think they’ll give me a fucking medal, strung like a necklace on your intestines.”

Diwal pushed with little force. The knife was razor-sharp. It didn’t cut so much as melt into Piras’s flesh. It happened so easily, so quickly, that it took a full second for the pain to hit. By then, Diwal was already drawing a bloody line down to his navel.

Piras screamed and kicked as a blinding burst of agony erupted from the wound. His feet bounced off Diwal’s knee-high boots with no effect on the leering Nobek. Piras might as well have been kicking a concrete wall.

Diwal leaned back a little to admire his work. “Such a performance over a little scratch,” he told his men. Their answering laughter was an evil crescendo to Piras’s ears. Several sounded hysterical, outright screaming their enjoyment. Once the loudest shrieks died down, Diwal asked, “Are you ready for another cut? Or would you like to give me the first name? By the way, Nobek Kila and Imdiko Lokmi don’t count, since we already know about them.”

Piras’s breath moaned in and out. He gasped, “I don’t know any traitors involved in Laro’s fall. I swear it.”

Diwal patted his shoulder, as if they were old friends. “Thank you, Piras. Thank you for giving me a reason to keep carving you. Not that I needed one, you understand.”

He sliced into Piras again, next to the first line. This one was deeper. Piras had tried to ready himself for it, but he couldn’t contain another shriek. Blood poured, painting his stomach crimson.

Instinct had him kicking again, this time with greater strength. He caught Diwal in the gut, sending the Nobek back a couple of steps. Diwal came at him with a roar. He punched Piras’s ribs several times in blurred succession. All at once, Piras couldn’t breathe for the agony.

Diwal stepped away, heaving air as if to make up for the oxygen Piras could no longer draw. He watched until the Dramok finally managed to wheeze, just as unconsciousness had begun to threaten. Every inhale was torture with bright, blinding misery. Exhales eased into thunderous anguish. Piras panted short, shallow breaths.

Diwal’s grin had gone lopsided, his look going murderous with intent. “Are you back with us, Piras? Good, because next up is Nobek Burif. You killed his nephew. Tell Piras his name, Burif.”

The Nobek whose hovercuffs stretched Piras up stepped forward. His knife, a huge monstrous creation that looked more like a sword, was unsheathed and ready to rend. “My nephew was Dramok Nali. He was on his first assignment, having just been through officer training. Barely more than a boy, you bloodthirsty, cowardly fuck.”

He cut Piras, damned near sawing into his left side. It was a vicious slash. Piras shrieked until his throat was raw, the screams turning ragged as his voice began to give out.

Diwal was right. He would beg for death. Not so much because of the horrific pain, but because Piras couldn’t bear to hear the names of the men his choice of Laro had killed. The men who hadn’t deserved to die.

Burif gave him a few more gashes before Diwal reminded him they weren’t going to kill Piras quite yet. It was obvious the bereaved uncle didn’t want to stop. He contented himself by punching Piras in the face.

Blessed darkness tried to descend, and Piras welcomed it. Diwal’s snarl of “No you don’t, traitor,” came an instant before the unremarkable twinge of something puncturing his thigh. A moment later, full awareness slammed into Piras. He blinked at the syringe Diwal held.

A stimulant injection. There was to be no escape until merciful death claimed him.

Another Nobek officer approached. His knife was a particularly nasty instrument, its jagged blade meant for tearing as it cut. Piras screamed before it touched him. Despite his desperate cries, he still heard the name of another man dead on Laro. The knife settled against his lower abdomen, just above the base of his primary cock.

Something dark flashed before Piras’s eyes. The guard with the brutal blade flew backwards, taking the knife from Piras’s skin. Then Kila was standing before him, howling with fury at his assailants.

Arms wrapped around Piras, holding onto him tightly. He looked to the side to discover it was a pale Lokmi, staring up at him in wide-eyed horror. Two Nobeks appeared with him, wearing the security uniforms belonging to flight crew and not headquarters. They stood on either side of Lokmi and Piras, percussion blaster drawn as they kept watch on the half dozen men of Diwal’s squad.

Diwal’s Nobeks were raging, running like wild, maniacal beasts all over the room. A few ran right at Piras, Kila, Lokmi, and the other two men – and passed through their bodies. Piras and Kila’s rescue party might have been made of mist, except the headquarters team didn’t seem to see them at all. It was as if they didn’t exist for the rampaging men.

Had Lokmi not been so solid against him, his tight grip making Piras’s wounds almost unbearable with pain, the Dramok would have thought he’d gone insane or was having some pre-death hallucination. Kila turned to him and reached to grab at his wrists. It felt far too real to be a delusion.

Remembering the top-secret technology the two men had installed on their destroyer solved the mystery of their invisibility to Diwal and his squad. Groaning against the hurt, Piras gasped, “Fuck. You got hold of personal phasing devices too? You’re not supposed to have those!”

Lokmi’s dry tone didn’t match the apprehension on his face. “It’s hilarious what a man picks out as important in times like this. Hurry it up…Captain.”

“That insubordinate attitude is going to come out of your ass, Chief.” Kila grimaced as he forced the hovercuffs to release Piras. Lokmi kept him from falling to the ground, holding Piras up on legs gone rubbery.

“Stay against my chest, Admiral. You have to maintain physical contact with my phase appliance to remain invisible to them.”

Lokmi was careful to keep the left side of his chest touching Piras as Kila grabbed the top of the Dramok’s uniform. The Nobek drew it up over the admiral’s arms, though he left it gaping open in the front. He ignored the men running through him and out of the office, shouting as they went in search of Piras and his rescuers. He told Lokmi, “We’ll chalk the admiral’s silly observations up to blood loss and pain. I brought a phase device for you too, Piras, so you can join us in our nefarious illegal deeds.”

“As if my actions with Laro didn’t make me enough of a criminal.” Piras thought of the loss and found his wounds not so awful…certainly not all he deserved to have suffered.

“Let’s make sure that piece of work wasn’t carried out in vain,” Kila said, his voice firm. His underlying message came through:Laro was a necessary evil to stop Maf’s evil.

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