He’d walked kilometers to the nearest spaceport, finding a ship ready for takeoff and sneaking aboard before the hold was sealed. The star traders hadn’t even known they had a stowaway, not until they felt his knife on their throat. The spacers hadn’t tasted half as good as the manatrix, but their ship had served him well for many a year, even after he’d fought his way into the Nihil. Nothing had come easy to him, and he hadn’t wanted it to. Not like Ro. Pan hadn’t been handed the Nihil on a platter. Pan hadn’t expected everyone to bow at his feet because of his name, but after today that’s exactly what they would do.

Pan thumbed a control, opening a channel to the ground using the secure line Zeetar’s Tempest had developed, a way to remain in touch even after all other comms had been blocked. Maybe the scrawny Talpini was good for something after all.

“Are the salvage parties ready?”

Lourna’s voice crackled back, as cold as ever, even through the distortion.

“Raiders are already on foot, speeders and track runners moving in.”

“Remember, the objective is to cause as much damage as possible …”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t help ourselves to a few goodies along the way. Shared equally among the Tempests, of course.”

“And with Ro.”

There was the hint of a question at the end of her statement. Pan didn’t provide the answer.

“Just get out and burn what’s left. Understood?”

“Understood. Releasing the blaredroids now.”

Pan growled to himself. Another of Zeetar’s innovations, the droids were designed to fly into the war-cloud, their speakers pumping out a mix of white noise and wreckpunk, anything to further disorient their prey. Pan thought they were an unnecessary addition, but he was willing to see what difference they made. And if they didn’t work? Well, then he’d stuff one down Zeetar’s throat.

“Here come more survivors,” Chell Trambin reported as a wave of ships shot up from the planet, fair-goers and dignitaries trying to escape the carnage.

They wouldn’t get far.

Technically, Pan should leave them for Zeet’s crews, but why should he let the Talpini have all the fun?

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a little target practice,” he told his crew with a satisfied sneer. “Light ’em up.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Lonisa City Detention Center

The universe was punishing her. That was the only possible explanation. Life had been fine when Ty Yorrick used the Verazeen stones. Every big decision was a fifty-fifty chance. Take the job. Don’t take the job. Nice and simple. Sure, she often ended up in jails such as this, but it was never her fault, only the stones’.