Fallen, he did not feel empty inside. Not truly. He still
thirsted to do good and have honor, even if such honor was not
attainable, he thirsted for it all the same. He still had the
Rhiq’ir burning inside him. An appetite he could never satisfy, now
that he had no honor. A curious thing indeed.
Eventually sleep came. His dreams were empty
and fleeting and when he woke six hours later he remembered nothing
of them. Nor did he care to try. Once the Essences—the collective
souls of the many ancestors stretching back to the beginning of
time—might have divined wisdom upon him through his dreams, but no
longer. Now his dreams belonged to the domain of darkness, whose
fabric was emptiness and threads despair. He would be wise to
ignore them.
He checked the time and saw it was still an
hour before he needed to report to Captain Pellew and ask for his
duties for the day. The human captain had been averse about letting
Rez’nac serve guard duty alongside any of the other human soldiers,
in fact Pellew had even gone so far as to arrange quarters for
Rez’nac on deck three, with the human crew, almost as far away from
the special forces barracks as possible.
He fears me , Rez’nac thought. Fears
that I will do violence to his people as my son did—slaying one of
their own called Patterson. Pellew is wise to think so, if one has
murderous blood he surely was given it by his father, and his
father’s father. But Pellew’s fears are nothing. I shall harm no
human aboard this ship. It would serve nothing to do so. And I am
less than nothing.
Rez’nac changed into fresh clothes and then
headed to the mess hall. It was a small, usually quiet room that
rarely had more than one or two people using it at a time, since
the master of this ship had allowed those who belonged to him to
take their meals at their leisure rather than scheduled times.
He picked up a plate and arranged it with
dried fruit from Gemini and reheated K’qurion steak. When the
Nighthawk had been at Gemini, it had taken aboard a lot of Polarian
food, enough to feed the small army of Polarians that’d come
aboard. Now all of those Polarians were gone, either slain at Remus
Nine or else belonging to Grimka and now far away, and all that
remained was Rez’nac. One sole Polarian and nearly half the
Polarian food that had come aboard.
He ate in silence. Listening to the sounds of
the ship, trying to hear their voices. The air vent purred and the
food storage units hummed. Even one of the lights above seemed to
buzz ever so slightly. But there was nothing but chaos in these
voices. No song, no soul, no harmony.
The humans sail the stars upon lifeless
stones …
And then a new sound. A click and a slide as
the door opened.
Rez’nac looked up to see three humans enter.
They wore the camouflage fatigues of human soldiers and the patches
on their shoulders bore the symbol of Imperial Special Forces. As
Rez’nac studied their faces carefully, he saw familiarity in them.
These were not some of the new soldiers who’d come aboard with him,
when he’d returned to the ship, these were seasoned killers that
had belonged to the Nighthawk longer than he had. These were men
who’d known Patterson, and probably bore fury over his unrighteous
killing. Let them , thought Rez’nac, it is their
right .
He returned his attention to his meal and was
peacefully chewing away at his second piece of K’qurion steak when
he noticed the sound of boots approaching. He tried to ignore them,
even though his heart quickened and his hunter’s instinct told him
he was in danger.
“ You ,” said one of the humans once
they were near.
Rez’nac looked up to see; the one who
addressed him had curly dark hair and brown eyes and looked even
more familiar than the other two, though truthfully all humans
seemed to look rather alike—making them hard to tell apart one from
another.
“Do you know who I am?” asked the
curly-headed man. His eyes seemed to stare into Rez’nac
thirsted to do good and have honor, even if such honor was not
attainable, he thirsted for it all the same. He still had the
Rhiq’ir burning inside him. An appetite he could never satisfy, now
that he had no honor. A curious thing indeed.
Eventually sleep came. His dreams were empty
and fleeting and when he woke six hours later he remembered nothing
of them. Nor did he care to try. Once the Essences—the collective
souls of the many ancestors stretching back to the beginning of
time—might have divined wisdom upon him through his dreams, but no
longer. Now his dreams belonged to the domain of darkness, whose
fabric was emptiness and threads despair. He would be wise to
ignore them.
He checked the time and saw it was still an
hour before he needed to report to Captain Pellew and ask for his
duties for the day. The human captain had been averse about letting
Rez’nac serve guard duty alongside any of the other human soldiers,
in fact Pellew had even gone so far as to arrange quarters for
Rez’nac on deck three, with the human crew, almost as far away from
the special forces barracks as possible.
He fears me , Rez’nac thought. Fears
that I will do violence to his people as my son did—slaying one of
their own called Patterson. Pellew is wise to think so, if one has
murderous blood he surely was given it by his father, and his
father’s father. But Pellew’s fears are nothing. I shall harm no
human aboard this ship. It would serve nothing to do so. And I am
less than nothing.
Rez’nac changed into fresh clothes and then
headed to the mess hall. It was a small, usually quiet room that
rarely had more than one or two people using it at a time, since
the master of this ship had allowed those who belonged to him to
take their meals at their leisure rather than scheduled times.
He picked up a plate and arranged it with
dried fruit from Gemini and reheated K’qurion steak. When the
Nighthawk had been at Gemini, it had taken aboard a lot of Polarian
food, enough to feed the small army of Polarians that’d come
aboard. Now all of those Polarians were gone, either slain at Remus
Nine or else belonging to Grimka and now far away, and all that
remained was Rez’nac. One sole Polarian and nearly half the
Polarian food that had come aboard.
He ate in silence. Listening to the sounds of
the ship, trying to hear their voices. The air vent purred and the
food storage units hummed. Even one of the lights above seemed to
buzz ever so slightly. But there was nothing but chaos in these
voices. No song, no soul, no harmony.
The humans sail the stars upon lifeless
stones …
And then a new sound. A click and a slide as
the door opened.
Rez’nac looked up to see three humans enter.
They wore the camouflage fatigues of human soldiers and the patches
on their shoulders bore the symbol of Imperial Special Forces. As
Rez’nac studied their faces carefully, he saw familiarity in them.
These were not some of the new soldiers who’d come aboard with him,
when he’d returned to the ship, these were seasoned killers that
had belonged to the Nighthawk longer than he had. These were men
who’d known Patterson, and probably bore fury over his unrighteous
killing. Let them , thought Rez’nac, it is their
right .
He returned his attention to his meal and was
peacefully chewing away at his second piece of K’qurion steak when
he noticed the sound of boots approaching. He tried to ignore them,
even though his heart quickened and his hunter’s instinct told him
he was in danger.
“ You ,” said one of the humans once
they were near.
Rez’nac looked up to see; the one who
addressed him had curly dark hair and brown eyes and looked even
more familiar than the other two, though truthfully all humans
seemed to look rather alike—making them hard to tell apart one from
another.
“Do you know who I am?” asked the
curly-headed man. His eyes seemed to stare into Rez’nac
Similar Books
