Page 19 of Decadence

She couldn’t wait to get into the kitchen and knead some dough. Really get stuck into it. Rise it, punch it, prove it. Do it all over again. Fill the whole restaurant with the smell of freshly baked bread.

That, at least, was something she could control.

Forget about this insane world of scary aliens and stars amongst the endless darkness and cruel, barbaric enemies.

She didn’t belong here.

Take me home.

She needed to make herself whole again.

Chapter Seven

Ikriss stepped out onto the ice and inhaled the cold fresh air of Earth. Behind him, the sleek black stealth cruiser called the Crurix rested on the frozen surface of the lake, its obsidian hull contrasting sharply with the pure white ice and snow.

How refreshing.

With the clear dark winter skies above and the howling wind whipping through his hair, the scene reminded him of Kythia.

Specifically, it reminded him of the flat, endless Vaal—the frozen surface of the vast ocean that surrounded his traditional homelands.

The lands of the Aikun.

Like so many of the warriors in the former Kordolian military, Ikriss had been taken from his family shortly after his coming of age. He’d been assigned to one of the cold, brutal Imperial Education Barracks, where the trainers had forced him to renounce his family ties and his culture and suppress all memories of his former life… and his freedom.

They’d shaved his hair and subdued his temper and forced him to wear their dark imperial uniforms.

And slowly but surely, he’d succumbed to their indoctrination, and it was made all the more potent for the fact that he knew—they all knew—that if he didn’t submit and work hard to become a good imperial soldier, his family would suffer.

The memory of it put cold fire into his veins even as he reveled in his surroundings; as he grappled with his headache, which had been reduced to a dull, pounding throb at the base of his skull.

“Boss is early,” Nythian remarked as he strode across the ice beside Ikriss. Lodan walked at his other side; uncharacteristically quiet, barefoot and perfectly naked in the way of an Aikun hunter. Clearly, he was impatient to get into the water. Soon Ikriss would strip off his stiff official uniform and join him.

“He can’t help it,” the pilot said dryly, his soft voice barely audible above the howling wind. “Always has to be one step ahead. Besides, he’s got Abbey and the offspring at home and even the toughest of us needs a break away from human chaos, because they say that younglings can be little terrors. Don’t you dare tell him I said this, but sometimes I almost feel sorry for him.”

Nythian let out a snort of agreement.

Ikriss glanced to his side and saw a second stealth cruiser, this one twice as large as the Crurix. He immediately recognized the Darkshadow, which was the craft Tarak normally used for short trips from Silence to Earth.

Tarak stood a little way off from the ship, looking down through a hole he’d cut in the ice. In one hand was a long serrated ice-saw called a skrath. The sight of the traditional Aikun tool pleased Ikriss immensely.

The General wore nothing but a soft black casual kashkan robe that was open at the waist, revealing his well built form, and a pair of loose trousers. As the three of them approached he looked up, inclining his head in greeting.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Ikriss said gruffly as he reached Tarak’s side. “When was the last time you had a chance to do a bit of ice-fishing?” He fought to keep his expression neutral as a fresh bolt of pain lanced through his left eyeball.

“Several cycles ago, on Kythia,” Tarak remarked as he bent over and picked up several wickedly barbed Callidum hunting harpoons called krizen. The sight of the traditional Aikun weapons sent a thrill of excitement through Ikriss. He felt a sudden urge to hunt. “Just like you,” the General continued, “I have missed it, which is why I have acquired these hunting lands. Besides, I have promised my mate fresh meat for her dinner.”

“This area is under our control now?” Ikriss raised an eyebrow. “I thought we ceased colonizing planets when we broke the Empire.”

“It is a strategic acquisition. Advance payment in exchange for our services. I have a few of these now.” Tarak tossed one of the krizen to him. Ikriss snatched it out of the air, appreciating its familiar heft and weight as his fingers wrapped around the obsidian haft. “It is a reservoir of edible species for our people; the kind of prey we prefer and that which is most nutritious for us. My wife, in all her wisdom, tells me it is fine so long as we engage something called a marine biologist to ensure species numbers stay viable.”

“Makes sense,” Nythian agreed. “But doesn’t she know we’ve been controlling species numbers all over the Universe long before humans even knew how to ”

“Her ideal way of doing it is different,” Tarak said quietly. “More balanced.”

“Less brutal,” Lodan added. “And maybe we shouldn’t be trying to control every cursed thing in the Universe.”

“Indeed,” the General rumbled, sounding half-amused as he tossed his First Division warriors a krizen each.

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