Sokolav had been one of the few people to know what had gone on at home. ‘Don’t you dare pretend to understand.’ I wanted him to hate me, hurt me, give me an excuse to fight back.
‘I’ve never pretended with you, son,’ said Sokolav gently. He wore a quiet, sombre expression, like he was watching long-lost events play out in the distance, beyond his control. ‘I found your brother miserable, depressed and despising Harmony for stealing you away. He thought you were going to die far away on some bombed-out planet, fighting a hopeless war. The poor soul didn’t know how to carry on. He was looking for something that’d take him from here and give him a fresh start. The House of Suns was the answer to that.’
‘A bunch of extremist nutjobs, trying to drown Compass in addiction.’
‘No, Vakov.’ Sokolav was not letting me provoke him. There was that same tiredness in his grey eyes, as if he needed a deep, long sleep. ‘You remember my injury at the Battle of Korag, yes? The one that got me sent home with a pat on the back? Lying bed-ridden while newsfeeds spoke about valour and fighting for a cause, I realised that Harmony doesn’t deserve to govern our galaxy. Jae Myouk-soon helped me understand the potential of stormtech. Why should Harmony decide who’s permitted to use it? Who gives them the right of ownership? The most genetically advanced specimen discovered in human history, and their scientists treat it like a common disease, exploiting it when convenient and banning it when they dislike the results. Their ideas are old-fashioned, out-dated.’
I remembered eighteen-year-old me, sitting on the hard metal chairs in the cold recruitment hall with Artyom. His face still carried bruises from the previous night when our father thought he’d come home too late. I could defend myself. He could not. Posters showcasing Reapers in battle armour and live feeds of Harmony victories were hung up around us. We were both scared and uncertain, and we didn’t know if this would be the biggest mistake of our lives.
‘Promise me we’re doing the right thing, Vak,’ Artyom begged me, his hands shaking as they gripped mine. I’d told him we were. I knew we had to be here because if we were sent home, I’d kill my father eventually. Sokolav had seen two dark-haired brothers sitting together and guided us through the procedure, had us tested under his supervision, ensuring we had the benefits that came from being from an underprivileged and troubled household. He’d become the father I never had.
‘The best organisms adapt, Vakov. As I did.’ He indicated to the stormtech curling up my throat. ‘We respect the stormtech in a way Harmony never has. They leaked it onto the market, not understanding the chaos they’d cause, or the good it can be used for.’
‘Good?’ I yelled. ‘There are hundreds of thousands of addicts willing to kill their own families just for a sliver of this stuff. There are children who are being kidnapped by stormdealers, shot up with stormtech and forced to work the streets as foot soldiers. Turf wars that are tearing up neighbourhoods. Whole floors filled with skinnies turned into empty husks, hurting themselves just to feel something. It started a damn war.’
‘It’s one thing to make a mistake. It’s another entirely to continue making them when you know they can be avoided. That’s what we’re doing. And you know as well as I do that Harmony will continue making mistakes. Which is why we’ve been planting those deaths on them, helping people see them for who they really are. Do you really think Kindosh cared about stormtech being on the markets until the media pointed out it was her own that were turning up dead? The people won’t tolerate their insolence any longer. Once the public discover the potential we’ve reached with stormtech, the things Harmony never dreamed of, they will listen.’
My old instructor had died in the war. Jae Myouk-soon had simply dug up the bones and twisted them into a pathetic imitation. ‘You were supposed to be there for all of us,’ I rasped. ‘You were supposed to be better than this.’
‘I’m sorry, son. You were one of my favourites. I wish you hadn’t put yourself in this situation.’ His eyes dissected me as a flicker of sombre determination flitted through them. ‘But what’s done is done. I’ve chosen my path. You’ve chosen yours. What happens to you next is out of my hands.’
As if on cue, the rusted doors cranked open to reveal the Jackal, surrounded by his usual entourage. ‘Time’s up, old man. We’re taking him now.’
Sokolav didn’t even look me in the eye as they came forward and grabbed me. ‘Come, dog.’ Every cell in my body ignited with equal parts misery and rage as the Jackal tugged me forward on my muzzle chain. The rail above me rattled, the chain following me as I was dragged out of the metal box and into the steel throat of a corridor flanked by my captors. Artyom attempted to edge away but the Jackal wasn’t having it. ‘Not you, Artyom. You come along. You watch.’
‘I don’t think that’s necessary—’ Artyom began.
‘But I do,’ the Jackal insisted with a smile. ‘It’s only fair, given you helped capture our prize.’
So Artyom trailed behind as I was dragged in full sight of the cultists. Feeling hundreds of eyes drilling into me as I waddled forward in the Jackal’s humiliation ritual. I rolled my burning shoulders, the harness straps groaning and digging into me. Without the tight confines of my armour, my flesh prickled and shuddered. The itchy fabric of the
