“They won’t kill her,” I say. “Sefi knows Mustang’s on her side.”
“Why would she do this?” Holiday asks.
“Justice,” Victra says, drawing a look from Sevro.
“No,” I say. “No I think it’s something else altogether.”
“Gorydamn marvelous.” Victra nods back to space. “Looks like the Telemanuses are intent on slagging this all up.” Another shuttle taxis into the hangar behind us. We gather as it lands. Storming down the ramp before it even sets down, jumping to deck is the whole Telemanus clan. Daxo, Kavax,
Thraxa, two other sisters I haven’t met land heavily behind them. Armed to the teeth, though Kavax’s arm is still in a sling. Behind them come thirty more of their House Golds. It’s a bloodydamn army.
“They’re going to get us all killed,” Holiday says. At my side, Sevro blinks up at the disembarking war party.
“Death begets death begets death…,” he murmurs.
“Kavax, what the hell are you doing?” I ask as his family crosses the hangar.
“Virginia needs our help,” he booms, not breaking his pace until I cut him off, blocking his way
deeper into the ship. For a moment I think he’ll go through me. “We will not leave her to the mercy of savages.”
“I told you to stay on your ship.”
“Unfortunately we take orders from Virginia, not you,” Daxo says. “We know the ramifications of
being here. But we will do what we must to protect our family.”
“Mustang even told you not to storm in here with knights.”
“The situation has changed,” Kavax rumbles.
“You want this to turn into a war? You want our fleet to shatter? The fastest way you do that is marching in there with a show of Gold force.”
“We will not let her die,” Kavax says.
“And what if they kill her because of you?” I ask. That’s the only thing that gives him pause. “What if they cut her throat when you storm in there?” I step close so he can see the fear on my face too and I can speak just loud enough for Daxo to hear as well. “Listen to me, Kavax, the problem with that is that you leave the Obsidian only one choice. Fight back. And you know they can. Let me handle this and we’ll get her back. Don’t and we’ll be standing over her casket tomorrow.”
Kavax looks back to his lean son, always the moderating influence, to see what he thinks. And to
my relief Daxo nods. “Very well,” Kavax says. “But I will go with you, Reaper. Children, await my
summons. If I fall, come with all fury.”
“Yes, father,” they say.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I turn back to my men. “Where’s Sevro?”
—
Sevro snuck away while we argued, to what purpose I don’t know. We rush after him through the corridors, Victra behind us. Holiday leads, taking information from other Sons of Ares in through the optic implant in her eye. Her men have spotted the mob in the main hangar. They’re holding a trial for Cassius for the murder of several dozen Sons of Ares, and, of course, Ares himself. No sign of Mustang. Where is she? She was supposed to stay out of sight. Meet us if she could. Did they catch her? Worse? When we reach the corridor that leads to the hangar, there’s such a press of people we can barely get through, shoving Reds and Obsidians out of the way as I pass.
They’re all shouting and pushing. Over their heads, near the center of the hangar, I see several dozen Obsidian and Reds astride the twenty-meter-high walkway that spans part of the hangar, high over the crowd. Sefi’s at their center. Seven Golds hang dead from the walkway, suspended by rubber cable ligature, feet dangling five meters above the crowd, scalps hewn off. Aureate spines are tougher than average humans. Each of these men and women would have died horribly over several minutes
from cerebral anorexia, watching the crowd beneath them curse and spit at them and hurl lugnuts and wrenches and bottles. Blood clots in a long ribbon cover their chins to their chests. Tongues removed by Sefi the Quiet. Cassius and several other prisoners await their own executions upon the walkway, kneeling beside their captors, bloody and beaten. Mustang is not with them, thank Jove. They’ve stripped Cassius to the waist and carved a bloody SlingBlade across his broad chest.
“Sefi!” I shout, but I can’t be heard. Can’t see Sevro anywhere. There’s more than twenty-five thousand in a space meant for ten. Many are armed. Some wounded from the battle the week prior. All pressing into the hangar to watch the execution. The Obsidian stand titanic amidst the masses, like great boulders amidst a sea of lowColors. I never should have condensed most of the wounded and
rescued crews into this hotbed of grief. The crowd has realized I’m here now and they part for me and begin to chant my name as if they think I’ve come to see justice done. The barbarity of it chills me. One of the men holding Cassius down is a Green tech who gave me coffee on Phobos. Most of
the others I don’t recognize.