The Starlight Lancer

Chapter Seventy-Two: Into the Desert

"These massive public works projects, taking mind-boggling amounts of resources from worlds in an attempt to terraform constructed worlds, have resulted in the creation of jobs, yes. That is not in dispute. The question is, whether a billion or a trillion jobs are created in this line of work, what is really being accomplished by the work itself?"

—Tobiese Gornam, political activist

The human male stepped forward and said, "If you all wouldn't mind, I'm very busy—can we get this over with?"

Ondor shook his head, then said, "Very well, then. Ardual, I'll leave the introductions to you."

The Jovelian nodded and gestured toward the woman. "This is Veimla Tescoll, but we call her Deadeye. She's got a chip in her brain that makes it awfully hard for her to miss—and makes her terrible at warning shots, doesn't it, darling?"

Veimla smiled. "Yes, sir."

"And this," the Jovelian waved toward the human, "is Fredan Lobiox. Goes by Spiderpede. That suit on his back is his own design, and it can rip the arm off a Raolgrian with zero effort. He just needs to work on his inter-personal skills."

Without skipping a beat, Fredan asked, "Can I get back to my baby now?"

The Jovelian rolled his eyes, sighed, and gave a nod. Then, he straightened up and said, "And I am Ardual, three-hundred and ninety-first to carry the family title; you may see I hail from Jovelos, where I earned my name: Dreich-master. I am a captain in the Derin Bas Mercenary Guild—as are my two associates."

"Seems like you're in charge, though," Xyrthe said.

"I am," Ardual replied. "I was given command of this detail by my lieutenant. Perhaps he knew of its importance—I've never failed a mission, and I refuse to fail this one."

Ondor cleared his throat. Then, in a low voice, he said, "I'm sure you're wondering why they're here. This is my backup plan. If you are unable to deal with Fell, I will have no choice but to use my last resort."

"They're heretics," Veimla said, her eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. "Are you sure we can trust them?"

Ardual leaned back and emitted a deep, throaty chuckle. "Heretic, lancer—what's it matter? They're puny, anyway. Besides, I'm not the one paying them to be here."

Xyrthe turned toward Ardual and said in a serious voice, "No one is paying us to be here."

The Jovelian's laugh intensified. Once he'd calmed, he said, "That's right—you don't even get paid by the Order, do you? They make your way for everything. Can't imagine that, working for room and board. Me, I've always had an eye for rebu and a taste for the exquisite in life."

Crossing her arms, Xyrthe shot back, "It's not like you could be a lancer if you wanted, anyway."

"Ha!" Ardual said. "I like this one. I have a feeling you're going to do great."

Xyrthe grumbled something under her breath. Again, Zaina was forced to be the adult of the two. She stepped forward and said, "So, anything we should know?"

Ardual scratched his head and said, "We've got a few transports if you want one; desert riders with a little extra charge in the engines. You want to close fast, you need speed—you'll need that and some luck if you don't want to get blown away before you even see Fell."

After a sigh, Xyrthe said, "And here I was, thinking this wasn't a straight-up assassination."

Veimla shrugged. "He's got long-range firepower. Not just scraps, either. If you want to brave all that to get in earshot of him, be our guest. Then we do things our way."