Truth Stealers (Thief's Signal: Book 1)

35

"Request the Dogfish for boarding on the Widow's Glory," Drigs spoke into the microphone of his control panel.

He waited.

"Permission granted," the monotonous voice of the operator rang through at last. "Please enter bay six to dock your ship."

Drigs looked up through the window once more at the huge vessel looming over his relatively tiny ship. Then he flew in.

At the landing bay, a small parole of soldiers were waiting to greet him. He opened the ramp of his cruiser and walked down carefully.

"High Lord Sheyn wishes to speak with you," one of the soldiers said. Drigs nodded and followed them out into the corridors. There they travelled up the lift, into the highest part of the vessel's accommodation compartment.

The party came to into a large hallway, and the soldiers abruptly stopped in front of a pair of large double doors. Drigs looked back at them, and then knocked.

After a moment, the doors were finally opened smoothly by a petite butler. "Master Drigs?"

"Yeah."

"Follow me," the butler said, "High Lord Sheyn has been waiting for you."

The doors opened into a grand atrium assorted with all kinds of various trophies and jewels and paintings. Drigs bypassed then all. Through another door, and finally they entered into a dimly lit room, a desk and files on one side, a large round table and sofas on the other.

At the desk was sat a fairly tall and lean man with sunken cheeks that contrasted heavily with wild eyes. Uniformly spiked, greasy hair stood at attention on top of his head.

"High Lord Sheyn, it is an honour," Drigs bowed.

The man at the desk didn't move. "Well done on your mission's success," he moved his face into the light and smiled. "Only took twenty years to kill the damned Blakemans, eh? Glad we finally found someone who could do it."

Drigs smiled, proud of himself.

"However, I heard of your...methods, to deal with their son Jag. Although entertaining, relying on a man who isn't the Regime's is a risky tactic. And as it ended up, it lead to you having to completely evacuate our base out on the colony. I understand you did destroy the information that it held?"

"Yes," Drigs said, shunned by the sudden change of praise.

"Good. Well, I hope you also understand how much it cost us to lose that base, and indeed all of our men there. Not to mention our show of power here. Even though we have only shown a fraction of our full armada, the Preachers now will know that we at least have the power to be in contention, if a war was to start between us and them."

Drigs nodded.

"Well. I believe that is all, Master Drigs, from me at least. The Grand Lord has requested a meeting with you via hologram in...two minutes. Best get yourself ready for him. I hope that you do avoid showing him any impertinence."

Drigs looked from the butler at the door to Sheyn. The Grand Lord. The Grand Bloody Lord had requested a bloody meeting.

Drigs was speechless.

"Go on," Sheyn waved a hand, "if the Grand Lord has requested a meeting, you shall go to it. Now get out."

Drigs stood up with an anxious look in his eyes. The butler showed him out, as he walked into the private meeting room. To talk with the fucking Grand Lord.

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