In the heart of Empire Plaza, a monstrous pyre was under construction, as was custom after the death of an Emperor. Mourners would leave valuables and keepsakes on the pyre, to be burnt with their beloved leader. Zurra recalled that Dennokk’s pyre had been at least three times as large as the one being prepared for his son.
“High Prod, if I may ask, what was the Emperor referring to when he spoke of the sukuda and Rurekk?”
“Sharm Zurra, you are a charmed servant of the Empire, but it is time for you to go home. We have asked much of you already,” Nikkwill said wearily as they neared the edge of the Plaza. “All we know is that Rurekk had off-world holdings on Piskka, as did Dakkal. After our raid there, the sukuda discovered that the planet was a much larger financial safe haven than we had anticipated. Contraband sold from the world’s black markets got funneled on and off the planet clandestinely.”
“So why did the Emperor bring it up?”
“Rurekk was such a minor player he slipped by unnoticed, but the same cannot be said for everyone – that is, after all, why we sent you after Dakkal. We always knew that Hudda Kugrall had a hand in the jar, but we turned up foreign accounts there as well. This was not just a shelter for heretics – it was a money-laundering hub. At the time, however, we overlooked this, since we were caught up in our victory. We had never struck at the Forbidden Army’s wallet in such a way before.”
“So foreign entities were active on Piskka after all?”
“The evidence was minimal, but someone tied to Hudda Kugrall was reaping benefits, and the money was flowing somewhere outside of the Empire. Foreign companies were making the bulk of the money selling contraband and giving a cut to vermin like Rurekk, who laundered the funds for them through establishments like his tavern. The Hudda Kugrall has far more meaningful sources of income.”
Something about what Nikkwill was saying seemed off. Zurra rubbed his eyes. “I want to know when we find out more.”
“You do not have to volunteer for anything, Sharm Zurra. The Empire thanks you enough already. Now go home and get some rest. That is an order. I will call you my personal likala so you get back quicker.”
Zurra breathed out and smiled. “Thank you, High Prod Nikkwill. I will report back to you in the morning.”
Nikkwill laughed and patted Zurra on the shoulder. “I do not doubt that. Sleep well and give your sister my regards. That is also an order.”
#
By virtue of his father’s position in the Imperial military, Zurra had earned leave from his post as a garrison commander on one of Sartokken’s moons shortly after his promotion to karp. His mother had fallen ill on Kenka and only his newly engaged sister Urula was there to care for her. Her fiancé had already set off for Rukkur, and Zurra wanted to make sure his mother and sister were alright.
His father was on a campaign at the behest of the Empire for six months in the Outer Ring, fighting a particularly stubborn group of heretics, but there was word that the battles were winding down and that Prod Akgu Juska’s services were no longer needed. He was promised to be home within the month.
Zurra and Urula had spent the past three weeks following Zurra’s return to Kenka not just tending to their ill mother, but reminiscing about their childhood. Zurra had not been back to his home since leaving for the Academy – partially due to his lasting sorrow from the death of Turka. Every tree they swung from, every river they swam in, every neighbor’s house they journeyed to for company by day and mischief by night – every sight, smell and sound of their home reminded him that Turka was gone. He could envision his tall, thin brother darting between trees as they escaped a particularly cranky old neighbor whose pogo they regularly threw stones at to illicit response.
But in those three weeks, Zurra had begun to come to terms with his brother’s death. Coming home had helped him move on. There was a sense of closure from confronting the source of his pain and drive.
On one of the last mornings of his leave, he was eating porridge in their home when there was a knock at the door. Urula started to rise but Zurra waved her down.
“Sit, I will answer.”
Urula smiled at him, the last time she would do so for many months.
Zurra opened the door and was met with the glare of the High Prod’s polished armor. Eight soldiers flanked the High Prod, each wearing the same awkward expression.
Nikkwill’s predecessor as High Prod, Burann Arranko, was one of Dennokk’s old stalwarts and the last living member of the late Emperor’s inner circle still active in the regime. Dennokk had died only months before Zurra’s graduation from the Academy, and High Prod Arranko would resign within the year, paving the way for Nikkwill to receive his appointment from Emperor Ruskir.
In Arranko’s hands was a plain, wooden box.
Zurra woke up as the likala pulled up to Urula’s home in the 19th District. He blinked his heavy eyelids, feeling his own fatigue, and thanked the driver before disembarking. He knocked twice on the door and waited patiently for Urula to answer. The door cracked open and Mulokk, her husband, poked his head out.
“Zurra, you are alive! We thought you had been killed in the riots!”
Zurra took his brother-in-law in an embrace. “Brother Mulokk, you do not know how glad I am to see you. How is Urula?”
“She is fine. So is Niloskk. Where have you been?”
“Ankina, if you must know. On a classified assignment.”
Mulokk raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Ankina, of all places?”
“Yes.”
The two krokator shared a deep laugh, as equals. “I am sure I will hear of your adventures one day. Come and sit. I will let Urula know you are here.”
Zurra thanked him and sat down at their table, staring into space. After the events of the past few days, it was an enormous relief to come somewhere calm like his sister’s home. One night of stability would do him a world of good.
Urula stepped into the kitchen. She quickly approached Zurra, paused in front of him and then slapped him across the face. There was a momentary pause as she held back tears before she threw herself around him.
“We thought you were dead, brother. I thought… I had not heard from you…”
Zurra grabbed his sister’s arms and looked into her eyes, smiling. “Do not worry, sister. I will not return home to you in a Death Box. At least not anytime soon.”
They embraced again before Zurra excused himself to go wash and get rest. Urula and Mulokk knowingly obliged and went to their own quarters.
After washing, Zurra stepped out into the garden, admiring the plants Urula looked after with such care. A winged reptile fluttered out of a crack in the wall and flew away into the starry sky. Gazing up at the constellations, he spotted Lurkk, the star Kenka orbited.
There was a noise from beyond the wall and he heard someone walking up to the front door. Zurra considered going upstairs to wake his sister but thought better of it. He approached the door himself and reached it just as he heard a resounding knock.
He opened it to come face to face with an aruntuk, who solemnly glared at him from under his helmet. “Sharm Akgu Zurra?” he asked, his eyes immediately falling upon Zurra’s officer braids.
“That is I. How may I help you, soldier?”
“I have a guest with me who seeks a private audience. May she enter your home?”
“It is not my home, but certainly.”
The aruntuk stepped aside and a black-clad figure emerged out of the murky darkness of the night. She pulled aside her veil and Zurra gasped when he saw his visitor’s face.
“The Honorable Lady Erenna,” he said and bowed to one knee. “I do not deserve the honor of your visit.”
Erenna was the youngest of Emperor Dennokk’s three children, and now the only one living. Her eldest brother was dead as of two days prior, and her other brother had died years ago of disease. It was seen as a great irony that the mighty Dennokk – at one time destined to have been held in the same esteem as Oranokk and Agukkan had th
e human and briling fleets not defeated the krokator so soundly at Terellis – had fathered two sons who were cowardly, weak and sickly.
It was even more ironic that Erenna, the neglected female of the three, had long been considered the most capable. She was called the power behind Ruskir, and many in Dennokk’s government had been shocked by the influence she held during her father’s final years.
She gazed upon Zurra, her dark eyes studying his expression. She placed one of her dark-green hands on his shoulder. “Rise,” she whispered in a soft, soothing voice. “Can we speak together in your garden?”
“Of course, Lady Erenna,” Zurra said and led her there. The aruntuk bodyguard elected to stay outside of the home.
“Lady Erenna, I ought to wake my sister, she would be so honored…”
“No,” she said flatly. She adjusted her black umrusk and locked eyes with Zurra. “No, absolutely not. I come here to you with a private matter.”
Zurra nodded respectfully. “I understand. Would you like anything to drink or eat? I was about to prepare a meal for myself.”
“I am fine, thank you. I do not expect to stay for long and I hope you allow me to ask that you postpone your meal until I leave.”
“Of course, Lady Erenna.”
“Good.” Erenna sat down on a bench in the garden. “I have heard many things about you, Sharm Zurra. You have a reputation at the palace. You are Tarkas’s favorite heretic-hunter. Nikkwill has you pegged for a promotion within the next two years if you continue at this pace.”
She leaned forward. “The typical sharm runs a garrison, takes orders from the local tarl, organizes patrols, delivers Death Boxes to families, and leads operations in the field. You, however, enjoy private audiences with Tarkas, Nikkwill, and my late brother. You had a meeting tonight with my nephew so casual you may as well have been the High Prod. Do you realize what a truly charmed position you are in?”
Zurra bowed his head respectfully. “Lady Erenna, I only do my duty. The opinions of my superiors are their own, and I am grateful for the esteem they hold me in.”
Erenna laughed a penetrating laugh. “Your modesty is admirable, and appropriate. Sharm Akgu Zurra, the model soldier. I suppose that is the way your father intended it to be, hmm? You know, I knew your father. I was only a few years older than he was, and before he met your mother he was quite the eligible bachelor. Of course, an Academy instructor was no fit for the daughter of the Emperor, but Juska and I always had a… casual acquaintance.” She smiled aggressively, her eyes lighting up. “I loved looking at him. That was all. He was tall, handsome, and courteous. Your mother was lucky. You look like him, you know. I have seen pictures of you and your brother, Kurkand keep him. You have Juska’s features.”
Zurra was uncomfortable with the thrust of the conversation. “Thank you, Lady Erenna.”
“I did not, however, come here to discuss my infatuation with your father, as striking as he may have been. I came here to ask you a favor as a loyal servant of the Empire. I also ask this favor as a female in grieving. My brother is dead; I know that you understand what that is like.” Erenna thinned her eyes and continued. “Hudda Kugrall murdered your brother. Cadet Akgu Turka was a fine soldier and they murdered him. Your father was furious. I think you are too, and that you would go to the Origin World and back to find the one responsible for his death.”
“I know who killed him,” Zurra replied. “It was Marsa Grakko, the Scarred Tarl. Killing the son of Prod Akgu Juska earned him his first promotion, and he has risen through the ranks ever since. He is now second only to the enigmatic Black Prod.”
“Zurra… have you declared nohoken against Marsa Grakko?” She rose. “I do not ask this question lightly. When you learned that it was Grakko who killed your brother, did you declare nohoken upon him?”
Zurra scowled. “I was the one who gave him the scar from which he earns his name, and he only left with a scar because I failed to finish him when I had the chance. But that was a mission, and I encountered him and I was young and brash and I let my emotions get in the way. That is why my father staunchly opposed nohoken.”
Nohoken was an ancient concept in krokator law stipulating that if one krokator committed a grievous crime against another, it was acceptable for the victim – or victim’s family – to declare revenge upon the perpetrator and personally carry it out. If nohoken was officially declared and witnessed by a priest and judge who approved of the motivations, the krokator was then free to execute the revenge killing within the strict set of rules that governed the practice.
“Your father was a traditionalist, Sharm Zurra. He was just afraid of nohoken. It can consume krokator. It can destroy their lives.”
Zurra nodded. “He forbade me from attempting it. He knew of its power… and he was right. My rage rendered me unfocused. If the Empire grants me a mission where I gain a second opportunity to kill him, he will not walk away with his life.”
“There lies your flaw. Your loyalty to the Empire clouds your judgment. Sometimes, one must do what is right, regardless of whether it is an order or not. Your moral compass is completely dictated by Admiral Tarkas and the High Prod. You have become a tool, a bludgeoning instrument. You are no less a weapon than an okka gun or Obedience Stick.”
Zurra considered this. “Every soldier is a tool of the Empire, Lady Erenna. We serve because the Empire needs us to.”
“That is how it always has been… and yet now I must ask you to be more than an instrument. Now you must think.”
“I do not understand.”
“My brother lies dead, assassinated by cowards. If Hudda Kugrall is responsible, I do not know, but I suspect they are. I was held in high esteem at Court and Viceroy Aratrokk is spineless – if I ask him for the intelligence briefings Nikkwill gives him, he complies without question. I know what is going on.” She touched his shoulder and came within inches of his face. “There is a contact in the Human Alliance who is funding Hudda Kugrall, or at least assisting them. The raid on Piskka revealed a connection between Dakkal and someone on Terra who was serving as an advisor for Hessian Engineering’s krokator trade sector, specifically their illicit operations.”
“Dakkal was being funded by human companies?”
“Kamaan Dakkal’s criminal contacts expand beyond Ankina. Hessian is a major Allied security company, and they made a good profit recycling used weaponry by selling them here in the Empire to groups such as Hudda Kugrall. Someone on Terra has a hand in the whole operation and it appears that Dakkal may have been their contact here on Rukkur.”
Zurra considered how impressive it was that Erenna had gained all this knowledge so quickly, since the intelligence from Ankina was so recent.
“Sharm Zurra, I declare nohoken upon those responsible for my brother’s death. The Urkus line is one of ancient and noble blood, and the murder of one of our own, especially an Emperor, is an insult to every one of my ancestors, kin and future descendants. I demand retribution, and it shall be mine.” She glanced up at a constellation far above, tracing it in her mind before continuing, “I am, however, an old krokator in mourning. That is why you must be the agent of my vengeance. You will carry out my nohoken as if it is a mission. Keep in mind that I am your superior and as a member of the royal family I supersede High Prod Nikkwill.”
Zurra bowed his head. “It is an honor and a privilege to be chosen for such a task.”
“Only a servant of the Empire as loyal as you could be trusted with such a mission. Tomorrow, two sukuda agents travel to Terra to investigate this suspected connection between Dakkal and Hessian Engineering. You will go with them. I have yet to arrange the details, but Nikkwill would never dare refuse me.” Erenna walked away from Zurra, and turned to face him once she was nearly at the wall to the garden. “Do you accept my mission? Will you carry out my nohoken as if it were your own?”
“I shall, or die trying.”
Erenna smiled. “Good. Should you find Marsa Grakko, do not hesitate to take his life. Ma
ke my nohoken your own.”
“I understand. Thank you.”
Erenna approached him and kissed his forehead, a sign of reverence from a superior. “The Empire will forever be in your graces when this mission is complete. Frusrand guide your path, and may my vengeance strike true by your hand. Farewell.”
She walked out of the house alone. He sat in the garden for many minutes after she had left and he heard her likala pull away down the street beyond the thick stone wall.
What have I gotten myself into? He thought, clenching his jaw as he realized his much-anticipated respite from the previous few days was about to be cut even more thin.
#
Planet Mars, Sol System
With only the stars as illumination, Colin Hess’ LUXR pulled off of the rural highway and onto an unpaved road of frozen mud, floating almost silently above. Hess stared out of the windows at the dark hills barely visible through the night. As a boy, he remembered going fishing in the sparsely populated highlands southeast of Pioneer City. It had been close to twenty years since he had been out in this part of the immediate environs of the capital, and while he was unsure of the exact occasion, he suspected it was one of the rare times when he had had enough time to take his own son fishing.
The LUXR slowed down as it reached four massive black utility HUVRs parked along the side of the road, almost completely blending into the dark landscape. Hess glanced at his two bodyguards, both former Marines, who silently glared through the tinted glass at the waiting vehicles.
“Stop here, this is fine,” Hess instructed his driver. The LUXR floated to a standstill and powered down, lightly landing on the hard soil of the frozen road.
The doors slid open and Hess and his bodyguards alighted, feeling the crunch of frost under their feet and watching their breaths steam in the air. The doors to two of the HUVRs opened and six large krokator emerged.
“Mr. Hess, it has been a long time,” one of the krokator said. While he had a wool cap pulled low nearly to his eyes and a thick coat zipped tight around his hulking frame disguising part of his jawline, the massive scar zigzagging across the left side of his face made him instantly recognizable.