At the end of the promenade, the station’s guards stand in clusters—thin and sickly. One of them lowers his weapon as I pass.
I ask, “Where is Jin Kol? I’m looking for him.”
“He’s in the upper mess,” the guard says. “He’s been drinking since morning. Said that we all deserved to be pushed out the airlock.”
I nod. “Fine. Step aside, please.”
They all do without hesitation.
The upper mess is a low-ceilinged chamber that reeks of cheap spirits. Jin Kol is the only one here at a table surrounded by empty bottles of Arcus Flare and a glass in his hand.
When he sees me, he laughs. “Sovereign Lorian. Have you lost your fucking mind—or your wardrobe? Or both?”
I stop in front of him. “Take your sword and stand and face me, you milkless man. You know exactly what this is about.”
He leans back in his chair. “I know one thing; I’m not nearly drunk enough for your ancient religious nonsense. What are you doing here naked? Trying to frighten me into a false confession about your human pet?”
“Get your sword and remove your clothing.”
“Why?”
“I challenge you to the Rite of Restitution.”
He looks around the room, searching our small audience of men for help. The Ariel Station guards all avoid his eyes, and the station workers linger in the doorway, whispering to each other. “You’re insane, Lorian. Does your brother know you’re here?”
I use my sword to flick at his shoulder, cutting his IGC uniform.
“Why would you challenge me to a duel? I’ve not broken any galactic laws, but you and your brother have bent them beyond recognition. You’re the guilty ones. Especiallyyou.”
“I’m challenging you for what you did to Eve Eden. For the lashes you ordered and increased. For selling the footage of her conjugal punishment. For making an example out of a human woman who didn’t deserve it. For this, you will die by my hand, as it is the justice of the goddesses and my justice.”
The crowd of onlookers draws closer around us, and Jin Kol’s hand twitches toward the blaster on his hip, but I shake my head slowly.
“No. Not that way. My men are prepared to shoot you down if you don’t get your sword.” I don’t need to look back at my men to know they have their weapons drawn. Instead, I look around at the crowd. “And it doesn’t look like you have anyone here who is going to stop them.”
Vo’s voice comes from behind me. “Witnesses recorded. Time mark initiated. Tribune Jin Kol I recommend you get a sword.”
“And if I refuse?”
I laugh bitterly. “I’m sure the men behind you would be more than happy to strip you naked and put a sword in your hand. It wouldn’t be the way most men would want to publicly die, but maybe that suits you? By their expressions, it looks like it would definitely suit them. To be forced into it like the unworthy coward that you are.”
Jin Kol only hesitates for a second before he sets down his drink, unclasps his uniform, and lets it fall to the floor.
So, not a coward after all.
His body is leaner than I expected for a bureaucrat—corded muscle with faint silver seams running under the skin like old burn scars. They glow when he moves; obviously, the IGC has been illegally upgrading its employees’ bodies.
It doesn’t matter. This is justice, and the goddesses will protect me from him.
An old sword is produced for Jin Kol from the crowd behind him, and he takes it.
I raise my sword. “Now, under the watchful eyes of the goddesses, I challenge you to a duel, Jin Kol.” I square my shoulders and let the sword settle in my hand so it becomes an extension of my arm.
“I accept, Shadow Sovereign Lorian, you fool. You’re going to die today. You know that?”
I strike hard and it tells me everything I need to know; he’s artificially altered himself. The strength behind his swing is not normal. It hits with a resonance that vibrates through my bones as if I had hit metal.
I strike again and again, as fast as I can, but he’s matching me. He’s faster than any natural man I’ve ever dueled. But I will not die here. Not like this. Not when I now have Eve waiting for me.
