Page 30 of Shattered Silence

As the Qualum drew together, seeking to repair the defect, Enki slipped through the opening, pushing hard with his legs as the living fibers sought to wrap themselves around his body. Gaining momentum, he slipped through to the other side and broke his fall with his hands. In a heartbeat, he was up on his feet and sprinting across the wide floor of the docking bay, keeping close to the wall. His exo-armor—exactly the same shade of obsidian as the ship’s dark walls—provided the perfect camouflage as he ran toward the exit, keeping low.

He passed rows and rows of stationary cruisers and stealth flyers and maintenance drones. Occasionally, his sharp ears would catch the idle conversation of a maintenance crew as they discussed interplanetary politics and the downfall of the Empire and their own suppressed sexual urges.

Ah, for some, being Kordolian and male was a curse indeed.

Enki flew past them on silent feet, evading detection as he ran faster and faster, his exo-armor moving in perfect synergy, enhancing his speed.

The ship’s sylth might have detected a slight disturbance when he passed through the airlock, but any drone or soldier sent down there to investigate would find nothing.

I’ve been with you a while now, but you never cease to astound me, soldier. Is there anything you can’t do?

Enki didn’t understand why the Tharian had suddenly changed its attitude toward him, and he didn’t care.

Didn’t trust it.

His people had destroyed its entire civilization, for fuck’s sake. What reason would it have to feel charitable toward him?

This is the reason you will never take control of this body. Now, will you shut up and allow me to complete my mission?

He thought of Layla as he ran behind a maintenance grunt who was walking away from the service area. He remembered the soft sound of her voice as he wrapped his arm around the unsuspecting Kordolian’s neck and clamped his hand across the man’s mouth, dragging him behind the wide props of a stealth cruiser.

He tried to conjure an image of her in his mind as he knocked the worker out with a swift, savage blow to the side of the head, catching him as he slumped into unconsciousness.

Working quickly, Enki stripped the man’s uniform—a standard black utility suit with the insignia of the dead Empire embroidered into the collar. The symbols—the all-seeing eye of Kaiin, the seven-pointed star entwined with the merciless heart, and the savage sword—were white, indicating that the worker was of the lowest rank in the military. There was a tool belt too, and a pair of thick knee-high worker’s boots.

Enki breathed out slowly and withdrew his exo-armor, embracing the familiar pain as billions upon billions of microscopic machines dissolved, retreating through skin and bone and muscle, returning to his bloodstream.

He donned the maintenance uniform, taking special care to conceal his weapons—a curved sword, longknife and two plasma guns. He tucked his guns inside the uniform, which was a size too big for him anyway, and slid the sword down his back, summoning a thin armor-sheath to hold it.

Now he looked just like any ordinary maintenance worker—well, a highborn one, but that was acceptable, because even sons of Noble Houses permeated the lower ranks of Daegan’s military.

Enki bent down, lifted the unconscious worker’s head, and slit his throat. As dark blood gushed out, he dragged the body behind the ship’s wide landing prop—a thick metal leg that extended from the hull to the floor. Concealed from view, the dead worker probably wouldn’t be discovered until Enki was long gone.

Typical. He’d been onboard for less than a siv, and he’d already killed someone. And he would do it again and again, because he would not allow anything to compromise this mission.

Leaving witnesses was always a risk.

For once, the Tharian didn’t say anything as Enki emerged from beneath the cruiser. He hunched his shoulders and mimicked the gait of an ordinary Kordolian, deliberately making noise with his footsteps. He cast his eyes downward, trying to look as unassuming as possible.

That was the manner in which he exited the lower docks, emerging into a wide passageway that sloped up to the middle decks. Enki had never been on the Ristval V before, but there was a certain familiarity to it. According to the sylph, it was a mirror copy of Silence, with an identical layout but in reverse.

As he came up to the middle decks proper, he passed several squadrons and even the entire Seventeenth Division. None of them took any notice of him, not even to give a salute of acknowledgement, which was customary amongst all Kordolian warriors.

They saw him as the lowliest class on this ship, and that was good, because it meant his disguise had worked.

And it meant he could make his way to the medical bay without being noticed.

Anonymity was a useful thing indeed, but even though Enki passed through the corridors of the battle cruiser with ease, he kept his senses taut, ready to reach for his weapons at the slightest provocation.

So close. A dark ripple of anticipation coursed through him as he wondered what state the human would be in when he reached her.

She’d be frightened, injured, and probably filled with a deep loathing of anything Kordolian. He was certain Mirkel or whoever was in charge now wouldn’t kill her, because she was far too valuable.

But they could damage her, definitely.

And if they had done anything like that to her, Enki would damage them back, tenfold. No, he would damage them regardless, because they were relics of the old Imperium, and Enki had no love for their kind.

With vengeance on his mind, Enki tried to find a shred of softness within himself, because he imagined Layla would need to see it, but there was nothing there.

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