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Chapter 8

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A door slid open and lights flickered on inside a small berthing. Inside was a well-made bunk, closet, single chair at a desk, and a sink.

Jayce put a hand on the doorframe and ran his touch down the strange polymer.

“Wow, this is really nice. What’s the hot water ration?” he asked Sarai, who was two steps behind him.

“Water ration? The Iron Soul can carry an entire Intervention platoon and still have room for support staff. There’s no rationing on anything,” she said. “You’ve really never left your home world, have you?”

“Nope.” Jayce went inside and ran his touch over the blanket. “This is all for me? Really?”

“Listen to me, bumpkin, you need to get over this starry-eyed wonder thing real quick. When we land on Illara, we’re not going there with the rank and authority of the Governance. This is a wild world in the Deep. Less law and order than your wet bucket of a planet. You better obey everything Master and Dastin tell you, because we’re not going down there for a picnic.”

“I thought the Syndicate was in control of every world the Governance had abandoned after the revolt.” Jayce sat on the bed and pushed on the mattress. “This is so soft.”

“And who told you that about the Syndicate?” Sarai leaned one shoulder against the doorframe.

“The . . . Syndicate,” Jayce said.

“Let me tell you something true about the Syndicate: they’re thugs. Criminals. They gave the enemy that survived the Battle of Tyrant’s Bane an escape from the Governance fleet. The Tyrant’s lieutenants would be done and dusted if it wasn’t for the Syndicate. The same Syndicate who’ve kept trade routes open to every last fringe kingdom, barony, and pirate band that sprang up after the Tyrant was killed. Governance would have brought peace to every star of the old order by now if it wasn’t for the Syndicate.”

“I don’t doubt you, but on Hemenway the Syndicate kept the peace. Mostly treated everyone fairly except . . . that slime eel. What’s this worth on the open market?” Jayce touched his harness.

“Couple hundred thousand quanta,” she said. “That’s got a Governance serial number in it. You try and sell it outside the Adept network and it’s an automatic prison sentence. You really think you could just cash out that easily?”

“No. I was going to get paid two thousand and a little more for navigating the Syndicate boss to and from the Shrine. He could’ve paid more. Lot more.” Jayce fumed for a moment. “And Kay got killed because he was greedy. The Syndicate got killed because the boss was greedy. All I wanted was a ticket off-world. Least I got that . . . sort of. These stones seem like a lot of trouble. What did you say about a network?”

“The galaxy is full of Shrines. Some more active than others. Ones in the Deep can pull several stones a year, almost all graded for harnesses or power plants.” Sarai tapped a fingertip against her harness stone. “More perfect stones for slip drives, planetary shields, and hilts only come from beyond the Veil. Attuned with the right training can crew a Shrine and deliver stones to the Governance, which has right of first refusal on any Veil stone. We pay excellent rates for them. Better for that power to be used for good than in the wrong hands.”

“People trade the Veil stones for Governance quanta?” Jayce scrunched his nose. “Something of actual value for what the government creates out of thin air and has an endless supply of?”

“You sound like the Syndicate. There’s quite the black market for them.” Sarai shrugged. “The Shrine Adepts live quite comfortably, and rampant materialism tends to affect how well they can call a stone through the Veil. The greedier they are, the poorer they become.”

“Huh, just like what happened on the docks.” Jayce smiled slightly. His mind drifted to Kay and his final moments. Would he still be alive if he hadn’t swapped Carotan’s stone and swallowed it? Probably. Kay wasn’t one for brawling.

“Oh no, bunch of Syndicate got killed. Anyway . . .” Sarai leaned back and glanced down the passageway. “What do you know about crossing the Veil? About the Foundation?”

“Growing up, it was a lot of superstitious nonsense. I didn’t think the Paragons were real until . . . very recently. We were worried about floods, changing supercurrents that could tear a flotilla apart or send us to the poles to die in the ice. No one had time for the old legends.”

“I’ve been preparing for this moment since before I could walk. Master Maru’s made the pilgrimage more times than anyone else alive. You are one giant liability. So, you just keep your head down, mouth shut, and don’t ruin this for anyone, you understand me?” She stared at him.

A whistle sounded through the ship.

“That’s the call to mourning. Just stay here until someone comes and gets you.” She turned away and the door slid shut behind her.

“See you.” Jayce kicked a boot off and rubbed sore, waterlogged feet. He slapped the pillow twice, noting that the foam melded around each hit. His other boot came off and he flexed his feet against the deck.

“What am I doing here?” He opened the closet and touched the Governance shipboard uniforms hanging inside. He pulled one out and read the name stitched over a breast pocket.

Holden bin Wolech.

He put it back, then felt around on a high shelf. He pushed boots aside and removed a data slate.

“Wow . . . it’s so new.” He tapped a corner and Standard text fields appeared. When his thumbprint didn’t unlock the screen, he tossed it back.

“Kay could’ve hacked it.” He sat on his bunk. He wiped his face and caught a glimpse of all the grime and filth marring his skin and hair. “What am I doing here?”

He set his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.

Jayce sat in silence until he ran his hand over the shoulder harness. He slipped his arm out of it and examined the stone embedded in the ring. It had shrunk slightly, and he could jiggle it from side to side in the mount by tilting the harness.

“What am I even doing here?” He looked up, then tossed the harness onto the bed.


Lahash set hands before bent knees and pressed his forehead to the triangle shape made by his thumb and fingers.

The ship stone at the heart of his battleship pulsed and sparked. The stone master was bound into the bulkheads. Cybernetics and lobotomy implants strained as the slave moaned from pain.

A shadow formed around the stone and frost grew from the deck.

“My lord.” Lahash leaned back and rested his palms on bent knees. “We’ve found the Aperture world. We will be through the Veil soon.”

Lahash tensed as a hand made of smoke passed over his face. Memories of the duel against Maru and glimpses of Sarai passed through his mind. A deep hatred rose in his chest as his spirit resonated with the one that manifested from the stone.

“Of course I will kill him.” Lahash’s jaw clenched. “But the signs . . . the signs point to something monumental. Something I hadn’t anticipated.”

“Bring me the child.” The apparition touched Lahash’s face then melded back into the stone.

Lahash sucked in air and fell over, his body shivering. He coughed as warmth came back to his chest. He slapped a comms button on a forearm panel.

“Bridge! Set course for Illara. Now. Run this ship as hard as you can.” He clicked the button again and went to the doors. He gave the slave synched to the stone a playful pat on his way out.


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