Yan and Luna started to move stealthily around the edge of the fountain. Perhaps distracted or still a little unsteady from the night before, Yan snagged his boot on an uneven paving stone about halfway to their planned positions behind Treskan, stumbled, and dropped one of his pistols with a loud clatter onto the hard plascrete surface. Treskan was instantly alerted by the sudden sound behind him, and he reacted like an animal in a corner: he ran, scurrying out from behind the fountain and frantically crossing the open square in the direction of the closest street exit. Expecting a lull, Kieran followed the escaping figure for less than a second before coolly pulling the trigger on his shotgun. The powerful buckshot load, even at a moderate range, shattered bone and tore muscle as it struck Treskan's right leg below the knee. His attempt at escape was abruptly cut short as he collapsed instantly, screaming in pain.
"Nice shot, Kieran!" Relieved, Yan called out over the comm.
"Thanks," said Kieran icily. "Pity my instructions were to merely wound." Even with the terrible injury to his leg, Treskan was still fighting. As he rolled onto his side in pain, he was able to raise his last handgun and started shooting wildly, sending bullets bouncing harmlessly off the statues nearby. Until the cold tip of her crossbow prodded gently touched the side of his head, he was so engrossed in the agony and panicked firing that he failed to notice Nayla coming silently from his flank.
Right next to his ear, Nayla purred, "Drop the weapon," threateningly soft, "or this bolt introduces your brain matter to the plascrete." Treskan's whole body jolted violently on the ground, but he was unable to jump. Treskan hesitated for a heartbeat in fear, and then, with his other hand shaking, he dropped the pistol. Nayla kept her crossbow accurately aimed until the others arrived, but she kicked the weapon as it skittered across the square, far out of Treskan's reach. As the others came together, they made a loose, cautious circle around the fallen and whimpering Treskan, making sure he had no chance to move. Ignoring Treskan's whimpering complaints and pained gasps, Kieran reached down and yanked him roughly into a sitting position against the fountain base. Nora staggered into the middle of the circle and came to a halt right in front of him.
"So," Nora said in a tone that was icy and heartless, "the mighty cheater falls."
"I... I don't know what you're talking—"
"Oh, don't you?" Contemptuously, Nora interrupted. "I made a mistake. I assume that Kieran, the highly advanced hypersonic pulse emitter that was recently removed from the bullet fragments found inside my body, must be the property of someone else. Treskan, hold your breath. Nobody is fooled by you.
"I didn't cheat!" he feebly blustered.
"Really? Are you really expecting anyone in this room to think that you've created regulation ammunition that can penetrate Rahmyn-grade composite plate like tissue paper?
"I promise that I will never be unfaithful! It's dishonorable, really! The worst—"
"Dishonorable?" Nora gave a hard laugh, a laugh without humor. Like snooping on us after you've been spotted? Like almost killing me with illegal tech? Is that dishonorable? Tell me you didn't look at this dishonestly. She carefully and slowly raised the edge of her tunic just enough to show the large bandage of synthetic flesh that was covering the wound on her abdomen that was still healing. "And this." The damaged, discolored tissue surrounding her hip wound was visible when she pulled up the leg of her cargo shorts. She pulled her shirt collar aside to show the angry red scarring and puckered skin surrounding her recently reconstructed shoulder joint. "And this," she concluded. Unable to look her in the eyes, Treskan stared and then looked away. He said nothing. Slowly, Nora lowered herself until her face was level with Treskan's.
She said, "Don't worry," in a quiet, nearly conversational tone. "We're not going to kill you." A desperate flicker of hope ignited in Treskan's eyes as his head snapped up. Nora's face stayed completely expressionless. "But don't be misled. A living reminder of what happens to rodents like you in this league, you will be. She got back up and nodded curtly at Kieran. Treskan cried out in pain, but Kieran held him firmly in place as he dragged him unceremoniously onto his knees. Luna, Nayla, and Yan positioned themselves around the kneeling figure at Nora's silent cue. With their muzzles pressed firmly, Treskan had one pistol behind each of his kneecaps and another aimed directly at each hip joint where the femur and pelvis met. Kieran held on to his paralyzing hold. Nora nodded sharply to the three executioners once more.
In the abrupt silence of the square, four shots cracked at once. The concentrated kinetic impacts caused Treskan's hip joints and both kneecaps to instantly disintegrate; the damage was too severe for even the most sophisticated regenerative medicine to completely repair. He screamed unintelligibly as he fell forward onto his face. He would never again be able to walk or even move his legs freely. He would probably spend the remainder of his wretched life confined to a mobility chair inside the harsh confines of a maximum-security prison colony. (The official punishment for proven cheaters was always life in prison without the possibility of parole, unless the people they had wronged simply killed them outright, which is a common outcome.) One last time, Nora bent down to the broken, crying figure on the plascrete. "Remember this day, gevno," she said in a harsh whisper voice. And share your story if you ever have the opportunity. Inform other vile people of the cost. She just straightened up and said, "Let's go." Treskan was left writhing and screaming helplessly on the ground as the five turned and left without a backward glance. With a sense of grim but deep satisfaction, they returned to the Kyara in a composed manner. On the way back, nobody mentioned the incident again. But once they arrived at the ship, they all understood the importance of unwinding; they alternated in the simulator, letting go of their tension and adrenaline through a variety of demanding programs.
The next day, Kieran was back where he belonged: on the Kyara's bridge, contentedly fiddling with the ship's systems. Parts of the main navigation console were now strewn all over a nearby work surface while he carefully set up a new subspace sensor calibration module that he had purchased from a specialized tech vendor planetside. The main communications panel abruptly illuminated with an incoming priority hail, possibly midway through the delicate integration process. Kieran muttered to himself that he didn't like being disturbed when he was working on a technical task. After wiping his hands on a cloth, he proceeded to the communication station and turned on the receiver. Both audio and high-definition video were present in the incoming signal. Kieran smiled genuinely in recognition as the main viewscreen flickered to life.
"Taran!" The face on the screen was that of Taran Ravy, the second of the six Ravy siblings and Kieran's immediate younger brother. His straight black hair contrasted with Kieran's brown, and he was several inches shorter than Kieran, but he had the same intense gray eyes. Years ago, Taran had been Kieran's sparring partner and logistical support when he first entered the world of gladiatorial combat. However, he had to retire after suffering a lower left leg injury in a shuttle accident the year before. Taran, now wearing a sophisticated cybernetic prosthesis, was in charge of House Ravy's vital Starship Design and Manufacturing department. He was as naturally drawn to engineering, construction, and tinkering as Kieran was.
Taran told him, "Hey, big brother," with a wry smile. "Even here, word spreads quickly. Yesterday evening, I learned about your civic justice project through the Interstellar newsfeeds. Well-managed. The scumbag seems to have received just what he deserved. Taran maintained the direct approach and short fuse typical of fighters despite his managerial position.
"Thank you, Taran. Nice to see you. What's going on at the shipyards? Is the business still profitable?
"Made a profit? "Yes," Taran said. "But it's been a little... uneventful lately. There were no significant R&D discoveries, no VIP government cruisers limping in following pirate battles that required urgent repairs, nothing particularly intriguing to savor. However, the balance sheets do appear to be very good.
"Excellent." Kieran's laid-back manner abruptly returned to business. "Happy to hear that. But this isn't just a social call—I know you, Taran. What's going on?" Being the oldest, Kieran had a remarkable talent for reading his younger siblings, and he had a special bond with Taran because of their common interests and life experiences.
"Kieran, you read me too well. It seems that your father wants you and your new friends to return to the homeworld shipyard facility as soon as possible. Just so you know, he received a high-priority, encrypted transmission late yesterday, but he's usually very quiet about the details. The eyes-only directive appeared to be on official letterhead from the High Council. might indicate trouble. Deeply, Kieran scowled. For independent Houses like Ravy, directives from the High Council rarely had any positive effects. Kieran shared Taran's and his family's healthy skepticism—almost a complete mistrust—of centralized galactic government meddling. House Ravy's production schedules and creative research projects were consistently threatened by their bureaucracy and regulations.
"I get it. Do you mind if I fix the others? They should hear this straight from the source if Father wants them to get involved. On the viewscreen, Taran gave a nod of agreement.
"Go ahead." Kieran turned on the intercom for the entire ship. "All personnel, report to the bridge immediately." A minute later, Luna, Yan, Nayla, and Nora were gathered on the bridge. Arriving last, hair dripping, and hurriedly wrapped in a heavy terrycloth robe, Luna appeared to have been interrupted mid-shower, her expression unimpressed.
She said bluntly, "This had better be critically important, Kieran," with a tone that threatened disastrous repercussions if it wasn't. Following a quick viewscreen introduction, Taran quickly gave the new arrivals a rundown of the situation and reiterated their father's call.
"How soon can your team be ready to depart Celyra Prime?" Taran asked in closing.
Nayla raised her voice. "My next match is set for early tomorrow morning. However, I can forfeit the match and we can depart right away if this is really urgent." She was obviously hurt by the idea of missing a fight.
Taran thought about this for a while. He concluded, "No need to forfeit unnecessarily," "Nayla, do your best in your planned match tomorrow. Withdraw from any subsequent rounds right away, regardless of the outcome. The pleasure of House Ravy's company can wait another day, our esteemed High Council. Your arrival is anticipated either late tomorrow or early the following day. Does that sound reasonable?
Taran held up a hand as Kieran nodded and reached to cut the connection. "Kieran, one more thing. R&D just informed me. The day after tomorrow, some... really intriguing prototype tech upgrades are anticipated to be delivered. Would anyone like to try out some new toys in the field? (The Kyara often served as a designated testbed for House Ravy's experimental technologies, in addition to being Kieran's personal vehicle and mobile base. As a result, it frequently upgraded its internal systems and capabilities significantly every few months.) Kieran was intrigued right away; he had been hoping for an FTL drive upgrade because the Kyara's current hyperdrive core was starting to feel a little outdated in comparison to the newest models available on the market.
"Absolutely interested!" With unabashed enthusiasm, Kieran answered. "Place me at the head of the line. Please forward any new hardware you have coming my way. Taran laughed at the cliched eagerness of his older brother.
"It will work. Kieran, have a safe trip. I'll see you all soon. Taran is gone.
"Recognized. Kieran is out.