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“You think I’m stupid?” he asks. “I’ll die out there.”
“If we go back, Slain will wonder where we went,” Vraik says.
Akron chuckles. “Not my problem.”
Lök reaches into his pocket, pulling out a hologram tablet. It illuminates from the center of his palm.
The wavering picture is a deed of some sort. Though it is written in crude alien language, I can actually understand most of it.
I rub the back of my neck. The thin indent of a chip forms against my flesh.
“You can take our newly acquired planet, Ferän. There is more gold in those shafts than your business will ever be worth,” Lök says.
Akron’s body solidifies. “I want the Resnyx,” he growls.
“No can do,” Rekker says, edging forward.
He folds his massive arms. “Then you can leave my bar and find someone else to help,” he says.
Lök hesitates. I wait for one of them to give in to the silence, but the aliens are locked, inert.
Akron pushes past the three and sits near the table, sighing. Sweat drips from his head to his neck. It’s hot in this room, but it’s not that hot.
He seems to be making up his mind.
“You are going against Slain,” he says, lost in thought. “That’s your plan, right? Force the Empire’s hand?”
Lök straightens his back, pridefully. “We would be the only ones in the known universe to control the Resnyx.”
Rekker nods, grinning. “Slain has used the last of the element like a fool. He is desperate. If there is any time to strike, it’s now.”
The beast rests his face in his palms. “It is not like the old days. If you fail—”
“We won’t fail,” I interrupt.
This time, it looks like the alien is actually listening to me.
Reluctantly, he shifts and eases his back against the chair. “It’s a tempting offer,” he says.
“It’s the offer of a lifetime,” Rekker reiterates.
Akron stands and wipes his hands. By the way he sighs, I can tell he’s not finished. “Tempting, but I can’t accept.”
My alien captors look like a bomb just exploded.
Puffing his chest, Lök closes the hologram and heads to the door.
“Come on,” Lök says, waving us forward. “We’ll find someone else to make rich.”
“There is no one else,” Vraik says.
Lök glares at Akron, eyes turning a blistering red. “When we win, you’ll be the first to go,” he says.
As he swings open the door with grace, his warning is cut short. A weapon that looks like it’s made from metallic bones rests inches away from his face.
It’s the lone sentinel.
I grab my garb and quickly wrap myself, but it’s too late. I’ve been seen.
