Bloody retribution for all the wrongs that the Federation had committed.
Freedom from them.
How could he say no to that?
He nodded. “I’m in, but I would suggest you clear out fast. I will meet you on Revant Two. I have to gather my crews and so on. It will take me a little time.”
Talon nodded. “Yes.”
Blade said, “Be careful not to be seen leaving my abode. I seem to have a few enemies.”
The men all looked at each other and laughed. They went back a long way. Once upon a time Blade had saved Jeval’s life after Jeval had picked a fight he could not possibly win, and Talon had saved Blade’s life on a night when a pretty young human slave had drugged his drink and tried to run a stake through his heart in order to please her master.
They left. Blade stood there, his mind swinging wildly from one thing to another. Had he just agreed to engage in open warfare?
He had, and he was looking forward to it, but before he could do that, he had to survive the moment.
Blade gathered his things fast; his stashes were mostly on other planets, and he had a loyal crew, but they rarely stepped onto the world he was on at that moment. He stayed far from them in order to protect them for the most part, but he also preferred the half-life he had there in that dim and dismal place. Hacksaw had been right about him giving no fucks about his life.
His life had ended when the Federation had killed Lauren, the woman that he had loved—still loved—so intently, despite all the years between that day and the one he now stood in.
“I know they think him trustworthy, but my father is a liar and a Federation pawn. He’s probably going to betray me at the first chance. I’ll get myself killed and ruin whatever is left of the rebel network and my own crew as well. This is stupid as hell, so why am I still packing up and getting ready to go to war, actual fucking war, with the Federation?”
Because that was what he had always wanted. War was just what he craved. Not just the sly and conniving ruination of the Federation’s powerful base and supply lines either.
War.
Outright, full on, and undeniable war.
“I want to take them down. I want to break the back of the Federation and then cut its head off. Then I want to make sure to salt the earth so that the next head of that particular Hydra can’t grow back.”
He gathered his things and cast one last look about. One thing was certain: he would never be able to come back there. He was either going to die, or he was going to be free.
But either of those things would keep him away from that planet forever, and the truth was, at that moment he was glad for that.
He stepped out and tensed immediately. The wind had shifted, making his nose curl. The wind said murder was in the air. It was always that way, but there was a low sound that meant many feet walking and the rattle and clatter of lasers held in tight fists was a sound he knew way too well.
Those goddamn Wallens!
He turned, heading down the alley and toward the docks—moving fast and using the shadows from the crumbling, damp-coated buildings and the shadows gathered thickly around the light cast by the gutter sconces to veil himself as much as possible.
He could hear the shouts rising on the street over, the street his place was on, and he knew that they had already gone in and seen he was gone. They would fan out, searching the hidden city for any and all clues to find him and do it as fast as possible since they had already decided to kill him.
That was the other thing about the Wallens: once they made up their minds, they were either too stupid to change those minds, or they just weren’t wired to do so. It was a big flaw, and it could be fatal for anyone they decided to kill because they would not stop until that goal was achieved.
That was something that could work to his advantage if he needed it to. His hands found the gables of a low roof, and he went upward, his body flattening to the surface of the roof. The Wallens were animal-like in many ways, and they could scent prey to a short distance. He needed to know where they were and he needed to throw them off his scent.
He spotted a small group of them: pallid and angular, their bodies warped by centuries of living there in the tunneled-out city. He narrowed his eyes, watching as that little group, maybe six strong, split in two. That meant one had picked him up. He was right, and he knew it because just then one started leaning toward the ground, snuffling and grunting as he did so.
A sound caught Blade’s ear. His eyes went around the street and he spotted a form clinging to the shadows just ahead of the building and moving slow. He frowned as he made out details: slim and possessing a definitely female form. She got closer, and he saw that she was human, half-naked, and terrified. Her breath was so fast he could hear the rasp of it. She was trying to get away from the Wallens, but he sensed that she was also trying to get away from some unseen being.
She startled like a deer. Her back met the wall, and she stood there. He heard her swallow a cry as one of the Wallens drew closer to where she stood. He knew he should just stay where he was—she was probably a runaway slave looking to escape the life she had been brought there for. She had no idea she had nowhere to go, of course, and all she would do by running away was get her body cut and scarred, and Bleck poured down her throat to make her more complacent.
And that had nothing to do with him. She scooted further into the shadows, but the sniffing Wallen was closing in on her, and doing his best to figure out where Blade’s scent was leading him as well. Blade knew he should not be lying there; he should be making his way across the roofs until he got enough of a head start and then head back to the docks again and to a ship that would get him the hell out of there before he got himself killed off, and right before he finally got his chance to fire directly at the Federation too.
The woman tried to run. The Wallens head came up. Blade groaned internally and looked for the others. They were within earshot but not eyesight. This was stupid, he told himself, really dumb. She’d be the perfect distraction, and not just to get the Wallen off his back but for him to get caught up in something he had no business being in to. Should he stay put?
He didn’t. He came off the roof in one long swinging motion, knife in one hand and laser in the other.
