Syndicate's Pawns by Davila LeBlanc Read Free Book Online Page B

cleft chin. His face was crisscrossed with several battle scars, making him truly repulsive. Niko deftly twirled a long serrated knife in his hands, his eyes zeroing in on Sopherim.
    A foul-­smelling vapostick dangled in Niko’s lips. Despite orders to do otherwise, he smoked these constantly and the lingering smell of stale nicotine had now infested the air of the kitchen.
    â€œCross that table, soulless pup, and see if you are as big as your words,” Sopherim snapped back at him. And while on any other day it would have given Domiant no small amount of pleasure watching his sister put Niko back in his place, there was a sixty trillion contract that took precedence over this.
    â€œMister Taem, loath as I am to admit it, you will be needed alive and intact if we are to accomplish our mission. So with all the politeness of the Infinite, be silent. I can assure you that your employer will not appreciate you being rude to her favorite daughter.”
    Niko let out a contemptuous snort. “Hide behind your ma if that will make you feel safe, little prince.” Niko Taem might not have been the brightest of men in the cosmos, but even he wasn’t foolish enough to think he could survive very long if Ynarra Kuaro took it upon herself to see him punished. “Just tell me who I have to hurt.”
    Seated next to Niko was a skeletally thin, visibly nervous and almost fragile-­looking Kelthan man. His hair was thick and orange like fire, his eyes were small and muddy brown. He sported a long unkempt beard and his clothes were dirty with many sweat stains on them. His name was Jerkol Loc, a former inmate from the Galasian prison colony of Rust. The rest of Jerkol Loc’s sentence had been purchased by Ynarra because she had needed an exceptional pilot for the Althena . Whether Jerkol Loc qualified for this particular adjective was open to debate in Domiant’s opinion. However, when the talent pool was former convicts and deserters serving time in the Galasian prison system, one took what one could.
    Jerkol Loc was almost permanently bound to his pilot’s seat in the cockpit of the Althena , and there he would remain until his debt to Seft Kuaro had been repaid in full. To many this would have seemed unfair and harsh. To Jerkol, it was certainly far better than the alternative of serving the remainder of his sentence.
    Jerkol Loc gave Domiant a nervous look. He was, rightfully so, afraid of saying anything that might offend, or be perceived as an offence. It was a most useful trait to have in a servant, in Domiant’s not-­so-­humble opinion. “Where are we off to? And what is the mission?”
    â€œAnd how long? I want to wrap this little trip of ours up and get back anywhere with a consistent InstaNet signal.” Mikali was sitting cross-­legged on the kitchen floor picking her teeth.
    â€œOur destination.” Domiant tossed a folded piece of paper to Jerkol Loc, who failed to catch it and was forced to crawl under the table to pick it up.
    Once he was seated again, Loc unfolded it and squinted at what was written. “These astro-­coordinates are in End Space.”
    â€œIndeed they are.”
    â€œWhat the living hump is there for us in End Space?” Niko was none too pleased with this. “I was told one job, then back home for me. Nowhere did it say that we’d be making a stop in the pits of the cosmos.”
    â€œMother allowed me to inform you all that you will be paid triple your standard payment upon the accomplishment of this task.” The clock was ticking and Domiant did not wish to waste any of it convincing his “talent” to take up the job at hand. In any case this payment would be nothing but a drop in the ocean of the sixty trillion reward.
    Domiant’s response seemed to please both Mikali and Niko. They gave each other a fist bump then turned to give him their undivided attention. Zanza, leaning against a nearby wall,