Golden Son

30

GATHERING STORM

“How long till we reach the rendezvous?” I ask Orion on the command deck. Except for our attendants, we are alone in front of the viewports of the Pax, watching my ships cross through space. The newest additions to our fledgling armada are painted white and carry Lorn’s angry-faced purple griffin. With them fly the black and blue and silver warships captured from Kellan au Bellona above Europa. Oranges and Reds crawl over the exteriors of the metal monsters, mending the holes made by leechCraft and preparing them for the siege of Mars.

“Three days till Hildas Station. The other ships will have beaten us there, dominus.”

Kavax and Daxo approach from behind. I turn to them and gesture out the repaired windows to the ten ships of Kellan au Bellona.

“Thank you for the presents,” I say.

“Your plan, your spoils,” Kavax declares.

“With us taking a percentage, naturally,” Daxo adds, smooth as ever, raising his swirling golden eyebrows. “Fifty percent finder’s fee.” I glance at him with amusement. “Well, thirty percent, because Pax liked you.”

“Ten percent!” Kavax booms.

I cock my head. “You’re a poor negotiator, Praetor.”

He shrugs amiably and points in joy to jelly beans on the ground. He tosses Sophocles down, encouraging him to vanquish them all.

“Twenty.” Daxo splays his hands, movements always seeming to belong to a thinner, more bookish man. “That is fair, no? We lost a hundred and sixty house Grays and thirteen Obsidians.”

“Then thirty percent to compensate you. For friends.”

“Three ships! What a haggle!” Kavax proclaims. “What a haggle. Sometimes a man needs a good haggle.” He claps me on the back, making the joints crack again. “If only we had caught Aja. That’d be a spoil to divide!”

“She fled into the sea, unfortunately.” I gesture to Ragnar, who stands at the edge of the bridge. “Heard he did well.” Pale and tall, he continues looking at me from behind his beard and runic tattoos, appearing as devoid of emotions as Kavax and Daxo are full of them.

“The leader of his boarding party was killed. So were the lieutenants. Lots of heads smashed. They ran into some of Kellan’s friends,” Kavax says dourly as he rummages through his pockets for his impatient fox, who clawed at his leg for more jelly beans. “I don’t have any more, my little prince.” He smiles up at me hopefully. “Do you have any jelly beans?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Ragnar there took command. Did himself well,” Daxo says.

“Took command?” I ask.

Kavax explains. “There was a kill squad of Peerless. Half a dozen Bellona blade dancers, real noble boys, carved up all our Golds and most of the Obsidians. The Stained there collected the surviving Grays and a few Obsidians and managed to get the ship.”

“Any of these blade dancers survive?”

“No.”

Ragnar looks at the ground again, as if expecting a reprimand.

“Well done, my goodman,” I say instead.

Both Kavax and Daxo squint at the familiarity.

Worth it to see Ragnar surprise me with a smile. A broad, yellowtoothed grin.

“Do you think he could do more?” I ask.

Daxo hesitates. “What do you mean?”

“Could he lead absent a Gold?”

Daxo and Kavax share a worried glance. “What would be the benefit in that?” Daxo asks.

“I could send him places I could not send Golds.”

“There is no such place.” Kavax crosses his arms. I go too far.

I smile to placate them. “Of course. Just a theory. The mind wanders from time to time.” I clap Kavax on the shoulder and they depart together for their own ship.

“You overstepped,” Orion says.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You have ears.”

I look down, searching the pale blue tattoos on her dark skin as if the math there holds the key to understanding her mind. “You’re observant for a Blue.”

“Because I know how the world works outside my digital sync? Comes from working the docks, dominus. When you’re at the bottom, you have to notice everything.”

“Which docks?” I ask.

“Phobos. Father was a Docker, born outside the Sects. Died when I was small. A young girl has to be on her toes if she wants to grow big in the Hive dock cities. It’s the only way to beat the monsters.”

“It’s not the only way,” I say.

“No?” she asks, surprised.

“You can always become a monster too.”

Orion turns from the viewport to look up at me. Fierce intelligence burns behind her arctic eyes. “And there’s the beauty of space. A billion paths to choose.”

I’m spared from replying when the comBlue calls from the pit.

“Dominus, we’ve an assault shuttle inbound. It’s Virginia au Augustus.”