Halfbreeds used to run rampant throughout the galaxy before the fall of humanity. They were ostracized soon after, and gradually, without any backing, they fell into non-existence. Less rare than a pure-blood, but far less dangerous.
Otherwise, they would have a bounty, too."
- Studies from Praetor Pathos' work into cloning.
Dante’s boots echoed along the hallway of the hotel’s floor that he had bribed to be his alone. Well, him and his crew. The first room he passed was his, placed the closest to the elevator in case of an attack or ambush as he was the lightest sleeper.
Then, there was Astraeus’ open door. The man peeked inside with a glance as he crossed it, witnessing the nightmare-skinned figure meditating on the floor. His bed was untouched, unslept in since they had arrived several days ago.
Everyone had been resting, relaxing, or training. It was a well-needed respite.
Dante knew that. He knew it all too well. However, he still vibrated with anxiousness. The man needed to move. He had to. Staying too long in one place, even if it was only a week or so was not something he was used to. On Crislend, Thanaris forced him to remain idle on the planet, but with his freedom returned, his hands begged to be back in the stars.
Nevertheless, he didn’t rush his crew. As much as he desired the sea of stars, they required recuperation.
His feet paused at Archimedes’ door. With a slight bend, Dante peered through the eyehole to see within the silent room. A slight smile grew as he saw Joan working with a petri dish and some unknown chemicals on the other side of the room from the sleeping boy.
The couch in the room had been pulled up beside the bed, showing signs of use. Dante almost laughed as he saw a side of the woman he didn’t know existed.
It’s almost like she’s a loving mother. Sleeping beside her child to ensure his health and not leaving the room to work.
He shook his head at the thought. Joan wasn’t like that. She couldn’t be. She was utterly incapable of such love. If she was...
Dante would have fared much better during his childhood. However, the man didn’t feel hatred or jealousy at such a thing. He merely harbored satisfaction that the capable woman devoted herself to his crew.
Joan Rafe lingered as a shadow in his mind ever since he met her again on Crislend in that lab. He was afraid of her. Deep down. He knew what atrocities she could do and had done.
The man caught himself in the horror of what would happen if she betrayed him. He felt confident he could deal with any of the others, should things go wrong.
Rejo, Lucius, and Astraeus, he could figure out a way to subdue in a fight. Sonna and Archimedes were the same but far easier to do so. And sure, the human could beat Joan in a head-on battle, but the doctor would never attack in such a way.
She was as cunning as he was and possessed the same cruelty.
They fought the same. They thought the same.
Joan wouldn’t stab him in the dark. She wouldn’t call him out or attack while he was weak. No. She would drug him while he was weak, lull him into a sense of security. Then, as he collapsed, she would move only when absolutely sure of victory.
A single dose in his food or drink that he hadn’t watched. A stray nail on the floor. A bandage over a fatal wound.
At that moment, observing the doctor as she worked, Dante realized just how many times she could have killed him. He brought his palm to his neck, rubbing it slightly as if feeling a blade against his throat.
Then, he heard her speak, and his heart dropped, “Arch, this serum from the Rosemen should reconnect the nerves in your spine. It’s the last of the ingredients, though. I used the rest to perfect this. Could have given you some earlier, but Dante would find that too risky.”
A low hum emanated from Isaac’s unmoving form as an answer while Dante released a strained breath. He had thought she noticed him. But she didn’t.
Joan stepped to the bed, flipping a syringe over her lower left hand before she sunk it into the long vein across her upper right hand. Dante furrowed his brows while struggling to see through the small eyehole.
“Thankfully, I worked out the kinks in my Stigmata. Truly they do fit the individual. I can store a single dose of any liquid within my bones, to either inject it into someone else or myself. Which is incredible, but the best part is I can duplicate it once. Hopefully, I can grow that further. Could you just imagine it, Arch? One dose becomes a million,” her voice sang with equal parts nostalgia and ambition, yet not a peep returned to her.
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However, that did not break her smile. A bone extended from her fingertip as thin as a needle and as see-through as plastic and slid into Archimedes’ IV bag. An unknown green liquid flowed through a bony syringe and eventually ended up within the boy’s veins.
Joan laughed with a soft bit of joy before sitting on the couch. Just a moment later, a cough broke out from her lungs as she struggled to breathe. Dante’s hand raised to the handle to enter and check on her, but the lethal doctor cursed at herself before he could, “Damn. Eighty hours without sleep. The immune system is shutting down. Still can’t overcome my biology. One day, though. One day, Arch, the blood we are born with won’t determine our heights.”
The human’s eyes widened as his breathing slowed to a crawl, and he listened to the mad scientist while pressed against the door. He didn’t want to spy, not any longer at least, but he couldn’t help it, “Humans. Tianshe. Irfret. Martians. They believe themselves to be better. They are... better. You are a human, partially at least, but you don’t have their strengths nor a Tianshe’s status. Marrow is the origin of even blood. That is what determines our lives. The color and makeup.”
A low hum entered the room, like an ailing elder in the throes of death. Joan patted Arch’s hand with an invisible kindness as she continued, “If you were born into a powerful family, you would be... limitless. If... if he hadn’t been...”
Sniffles resounded in the room just as a hand fell onto Dante’s shoulders. The captain turned to see Rejo’s tendrils over his mouth splay out to the sides in excitement, “We’ve ‘ot a call. From ‘Audius.”
Dante’s right eye raised, perplexed at the contact the Judge had initiated. However, he didn’t wait. He had some things he wished to ask Claudius, so he opened his palm, “Give it then.”
Rejo shook his head in embarrassment as his red skin shifted darker. He then pointed toward Sonna’s room and mumbled, “She has the ‘cater.”
The captain exhaled roughly from his nose in jest before striding past Rejo. Footsteps rushed behind him as Dante reached Sonna’s room just moments later.
He turned the corner, entering and hearing Sonna speaking with Claudius across the galaxy through the communicator. The instant he saw the device, he tapped the mute button and asked, “Can this be tracked? Did Arch work on it?”
Sonna nodded, “Yes. He said it’s untraceable,” before tapping the mute again. “He’s here now, Claudius. Give us your offer.”
Dante’s ‘second’ lifted the communicator for all three to hear clearly as Claudius Vermillion’s voice resounded from it, “Hello Dante. I am soon to take the Centurion’s exam. Many people do not wish for me to succeed. As such, I will require aid. Before you ask, not yours. I need Rejo’s help.”
The Araki and the human glanced at each other. Then, Dante followed up on the request with his own, “I need more details. Just him? How long? Where? What’s our pay? What will he be doing?”
His rapid-fire questions were expected by the Judge, and he answered each calmly, “Only Rejo. It’ll likely be about a month overall. He will be in Romul. The price can be negotiated, but he will be helping me pass the exam. His Domain Collapse will let me counter whatever unscrupulous factors may emerge.”
Dante nodded after hearing the conditions of Claudius’ side of the deal. The man walked around the room for a moment in thought while the other two watched him. Then, he motioned for Sonna to mute, “Give me a minute.”
Once the button was pressed, Dante held his chin and said, “What do you think, Sonna? I don’t think it’s a trap. Not like Claudius. Plus, I want to keep this... relationship we have with him. We promised to kill each other, but only eventually.”
Rejo tilted his head in confusion while the Weren offered her thoughts, “Not sure. It seems dangerous. A Centurion exam? There are less than ten thousand of them in the whole galaxy. It would be a good way to deepen our rapport. Claudius seems to be very... emotional when it comes to connections.”
Dante’s brows furrowed as he considered what he would ask for in return. In truth, there was not much Claudius could give him that they could not steal, buy, or bribe for themselves.
Money, weapons, and knowledge aren’t the things we need most. All we really need is time. Wait. That’s it. We have to get him to help us, too.
With a swift tap, he unmuted the device and returned his conditions, “You tell me who is on our tail, how far they are, and what their strengths are.”
Claudius took a moment to reply, but he held a simple, “Yes. Is that all?”
After a scoff, Dante followed up with something he was less sure about but that he wanted to learn anyway, “Of course not. I want you to teach me how to make a Lightsea Pact.”
Now, that demand left Claudius speechless. The other end held no noise for almost a full minute as the Judge discussed with his Centurion and Jury. Sonna looked at Dante with confusion, so the man explained himself while they waited, “It’s a shortcut to power. Not necessarily something we all want to use, but I have an idea to make my Stigmata stronger.”
The Weren bit her lip as she nodded, understanding what he wanted for them. Meanwhile, Rejo wobbled in his seat, struggling to understand all that was happening. All he knew was that he was going to get to do something fun that would empower his captain.
And that brought him a rush of adrenaline.
Eventually though, Claudius’ voice entered the room through the communicator’s speakers once more. It was hesitant, unsure of its abilities, “I... cannot teach you. It is not something that can be ‘taught’ as only those deemed... favorable can do so.”
Despite Claudius’ words, Dante retained an ounce of suspicion. He had seen what the Judge did to Ego when the man attempted to make a Lightless Pact.
Somehow, he had interfered with it. He must have made the man ‘unfavorable’ or something. Does that mean he can do the opposite? Make someone favorable? Worth a shot.
“Okay. What about that man in the Inferose? Could you do the opposite? Instead of interfering, help bridge the gap?” he asked alongside his burgeoning thoughts.
With his words, Claudius paused once more, then he spoke after just a short moment, “I am not sure. I could try. How about this? When we meet to trade Rejo, I’ll see what I can do. If not, we’ll come up with something else. I believe we should have enough trust in the other at this point for this, right?”
Dante quickly agreed, finding the terms to be worthwhile. Once the deal was set, the Judge moved to answer the first condition placed, “Okay. Then, let’s get started. A Praetor is after you. His name is Oswen, Survivor of the Great Darkness. Designation is Cultivator, who wields the Oathsever, an infamous sword. He is dangerous, around equal to Praetor Sun, but he is one of the five Praetors without a Domain Collapse. Don’t look down on him, though. He didn’t earn that title for nothing. He is the only person to survive an expedition into the Great Cavity that isn’t named Yarnen or Vicar.”
In just a few sentences, a looming sword settled above Dante and his crew’s necks. It was hovering as if Oswen were already there. Sonna’s breath quickened and Rejo’s eyes dilated. Meanwhile, the human’s body chilled and grew colder.
“Okay. Praetor, then. How far is he? Do you know how much he knows?” Dante prodded for more. Another voice echoed through the communicator, though, as an answer.
Rasa delivered intel that would leave the Centurion and Judge in court should any find out, “He is in the Contawa Sector. From what I can glean, he has a trail on you guys. Not sure how or what, but he’s a Praetor. And he was in the running for the last Head-Praetor election.”
The discussion continued between Dante and Claudius as they ironed out the logistics of their meeting. It was difficult for them both to agree on a location, but after some negotiation, they settled on Habituar B.
The planet wasn’t too noisy or out of place, situated right on the border of Glaniece and Rome while being not too distant from Romul. Such a stop wouldn’t set off any alarms for Claudius’ hidden enemies and was also close enough for Dante’s crew to reach in just a few jumps.
One problem remained, however. Two, really, but they stemmed from the same.
Archimedes was out. He hadn’t yet recovered enough to speak, let alone stand or fly a starship. Praetor Oswen was on their tail, too.
Dante turned off the device and closed his eyes. With a long, deep breath, he then opened them and looked to Sonna, “We got some training to do. Rest is over. I need you to learn negative Arido to help heal Arch. You can take life from me in exchange. Rejo. Practice your DC. Before you do so, go to Lucius and Astraeus. Train with them both. I want your close-combat, Tide, and DC to be as refined as possible.”
Nods returned from the two before Sonna raised her index finger, “What about Joan?”
The human laughed as he stood, patting his knees and preparing for the likely pain that would come with training with Sonna’s Arido. He could sacrifice the time, though, if Claudius’ method bore fruit.
For now, he would trust the Judge. And his doctor.
“She’s doing her best. No need to rush her. Let’s focus on us, so we can get back into the stars.”