Voidstalker

THE FAMILY

Real nightmares are rooted in memory, and this nightmare was no different. The door to the depressurised chamber opened and he felt a spike of adrenaline pierce his heart as he was ejected into the cold and lonely void. Twisting and spinning through space with his sense of direction thrown into confusion, he felt like he was suffocating as he hyperventilated from sheer panic.

He had to force himself to slow his breathing, taking shallower and shallower gulps of air until his pulse had settled and he was no longer panicking; then he extended his limbs and relaxed. Without an EVA jetpack, there was nothing else he could do, and by the time he had calmed down, the vessel that had carried him there was already gone.

The darkness that surrounded him was so thick he could almost touch it. Save for the countless tiny points of light that dotted the background, the distance between himself and the stars was a never-ending expanse of pure emptiness, extending in all directions. The sheer immensity of space made him feel like a grain of sand in a vast ocean, or a speck of dust floating in a planetary atmosphere.

Worse still was the sheer nothingness of it all. At least in the ocean or the atmosphere you could feel the currents making their presence known and their power felt, buffeting you back and forth, reminding you constantly that it surrounded you. In the vacuum of space, there truly was nothing, not even gravity. The eternal abyss exerted no push or pull, no awesome reminder of its infinite power, because there was nothing there to exert such power. To be trapped in space was to be just another particle drifting forever.

But perhaps worst of all was the total loss of orientation. There was no direction in the omnidirectional void. No up or down, no left or right, no forwards or backwards; even the points of light were too indistinct to provide a sense of direction. Nor did his spacesuit have any sort of navigation equipment installed, leaving him with absolutely no sense of direction. All he could do was float and stare out into the abyss, and the longer he stared, the more the abyss seemed to swallow him.

The panic returned.

His pulse began to race and his breathing began to accelerate, as if sucking up more of his precious oxygen would soothe the maddening sense of nothingness. Flailing in the dark, he felt himself sinking further and further into the blackness, and even the barely visible stars seemed to fade beyond vision, like tiny gems submerging into a tar pit. The sheer absence of anything, the infinite abyss of pure nihilism was slowly devouring his mind...

* * *

Gabriel awoke with a start.

Another nightmare. At least, he knew that most people would call that a nightmare; and yet he felt none of the physical signs that a nightmare ought to bring. He felt no cold sweat, he wasn’t gasping for air, and his heartbeat rapidly subsided to normal. Nor did he feel any horrible sense of panic that he might fall back into the nightmare. Whatever feeling of terror he might have had evaporated almost as soon as it came.

Now, he felt only clinical acknowledgement of the fact that he was awake.

Gabriel lay his head back on the pillow and tried to return to sleep. But he was no longer tired enough to close his eyes and just doze off, and after staring at the ceiling for a while, he headed to the bathroom. The light-strip atop the mirror awoke at his presence, and he splashed some water on his face, the icy cold liquid refreshing the nerves under his skin and washing away any remaining traces of drowsiness.

Gabriel looked up at the mirror, and his reflection looked back with minimal expression. His face was clean-shaven, with an angular jaw, and a head of short dark hair. He was naked from the waist up, the toned, powerful musculature of his chest and arms resembling chiselled marble. Though barely visible under the light, the slightly pale skin across his body was covered with faint scar tissue, their precise, symmetrical patterns giving them away as the marks of numerous surgical enhancements.

Most distinctive of all were his eyes. The irises were a shimmering, emerald green, almost luminescent under the light. Many people assumed they were bionic implants, or garish contact lenses; but they were definitely his actual eyes, staring back at him with hard, emotionless authority. That was the way he usually looked to the world: cold and stern.

He cracked a well-practiced smile in the mirror. It looked sincere and convincing enough, but it felt unnatural, like putting on a clever disguise that was uncomfortable to wear. It was fake, and he stopped from embarrassment. That well-practiced smile was only something he showed to those closest to him, to reassure them that he wasn’t a sociopath.

The soft sound of footsteps entering the bathroom reached his ears, and a petite pair of hands slid across his body, pulling him into an embrace.

“It’s hard to sleep when you can’t.” Aster said, her voice weighed down by tiredness.

“I can sleep.” Gabriel reassured her, reciprocating the embrace with one arm, “I just need less of it than the average person.”

“Thanks to the people who put this thing here.” Aster said, reaching up as she spoke.

She pressed her thumb against the back of Gabriel’s neck and traced it across the skin. The action caused a symbol to appear: a capital S intertwined, serpent-like, with a capital V.

“Is there something wrong with it?” Gabriel asked as the symbol faded from view.

“Is there something wrong with the fact that you have a glorified cattle brand on the back of your neck?” Aster asked rhetorically, a note of tension creeping into her voice.

“You get it when you join.” Gabriel reminded her, ignoring the slightly barbed tone of her voice, “And you join for life.”

“I get that much, and I can accept that much,” Aster replied, resting her chin on his chest, “but the nightmares are a different story.”

She gazed up at him with her light brown, puppy dog eyes. Gabriel placed a hand behind her head, stroking the shoulder length brunette curls with their blonde highlights. But the gaze had a question in them, demanding an answer.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” Aster demanded, slipping into her native colonial accent.

“They’re classified.” Gabriel replied matter-of-factly.

“How the fuck can your nightmares be classified?” Aster shot back angrily.

“Keep your voice down,” Gabriel hissed angrily, “the children are sleeping.”

“I know that,” Aster hissed back in an angry stage whisper, “what I don’t know is why you can’t tell your own wife about the nightmares you have every week, or why the fuck they make you put that thing on your head before you go to sleep.”

Gabriel gingerly touched the skin-coloured gel-strip adhering to his forehead, causing the invisible circuitry to light up in response. It seemed like a silly question when the answer was so obvious: to monitor his neural activity when he was asleep.

But, of course, what she really wanted to know was what was done with the data. Even he didn’t know that, and even if he did he couldn’t tell her. The data collected by the gel-strip, and the uses to which it was put, were classified.

Aster knew all of that, and she showed what she thought of that by reaching up and giving the gel-strip an irreverent flick.

“Don’t touch it.” Gabriel warned her, flinching in irritation.

Aster replied by defiantly flicking the gel-strip again.

“I said don’t touch it.” Gabriel’s tone hardened, “you might damage it.”

“It’s a wireless electroencephalographic monitoring strip, not an egg-shell,” Aster retorted, making clear that she knew more about the technology than he did, “your lords and masters will still get their pristine data feeds.”

She emphasised the point by giving the strip another sharp jab.

A rush of anger swept through Gabriel’s chest, and he angrily seized Aster’s wrists and pinned her against the wall, not tolerating her provocations any longer. Aster inhaled sharply, taken aback by his outburst of aggression.

“Which part of ‘don’t touch it’ do you not understand?” Gabriel hissed angrily, piercing her eyes with his own as he spoke.

He was hissing at Aster through gritted teeth to suppress the volume of his voice, but inadvertently ended up with a menacing, wolf-like snarl on his face.

Aster didn’t respond, but the emotion in her eyes wasn’t fear. They were chest to chest, their lips only inches away from each other. Gabriel’s gaze drift down from her eyes to her button nose and slightly open lips, then down across the soft skin of her neck, converging downwards into a V-shape. He could feel the warmth of her body against his own, and the closeness of their bodies caused another feeling to stir in his chest, quenching his anger.

As Gabriel’s anger subsided, he realised he was physically pinning his wife to the wall. Self-consciously, he relinquished his grip on her wrists and took an apologetic step backwards. Aster used her now free hands to pull his head back towards her own. Their lips connected, and she held him there for a long moment before breaking the kiss.

“Don’t pull away.” She whispered to him.

Aster pulled him in for another kiss, this time allowing his tongue entrance. As they continued to lock lips, Aster ran her fingers through his raven black hair and wrapped her arms around his neck. Gabriel’s own hands slid down her back towards her butt, cupping her cheeks in his palms. Then he reach down further and placed his hands behind her knees, hoisting her effortlessly into the air. Her body felt warm and exciting, and she wrapped her legs around his waist in response, hugging him close.

“We should get back to bed.” She whispered into his ear.

* * *

Even after their nocturnal exercise session, Gabriel still wasn’t tired enough to fall asleep, and he lay awake for the rest of the night, spread-eagled on his back, staring at the ceiling in the dark. His stare was blank, but his mind was abuzz with thoughts.

Revealing details of past operations, let alone present ones, was strictly forbidden, even if those details were filtered through dreams and nightmares. Secrecy was central to what he did. Aster hated the secrecy, and it was a constant source of tension between them. But it was nothing that couldn’t be defused in the bedroom.

Aster was lying face down on top of him, curled up around his chest for comfort. Her skin felt so soft and warm against his own; just feeling her body warmth was enough to rekindle his arousal. Gabriel planted his hand on her shoulder and ran his palm down the curve of her back to her butt, cupping the cheek in his palm.

“Someone’s seems ready for round two.” Aster murmured with a smile.

She lifted her knee a little higher and slid her body up closer to him. From her rear, he reached down a little further to the place below.

Gabriel’s smartphone chimed suddenly, interrupting his ministrations. Gritting his teeth in annoyance at the interruption, he reached over and plucked the device off the bedside table, finding a single message in danger red, block capitals displayed on the holographic screen: ‘REPORT TO DGNI’S OFFICE, 9AM’.

“Another assignment?” asked Aster, perching her chin on his chest and looking up.

“No comment.” Gabriel replied laconically.

“Of course.” Aster said with a sigh.

Gabriel could sense how weary Aster was of all the secrecy.

“It was a flashback, by the way,” he said, abruptly changing the subject, “they’re all based on memories from past assignments. That’s why I can’t tell you about them.”

That semi-cathartic disclosure wasn’t necessarily wise, even though he hadn’t strictly speaking revealed anything classified.

“Listen, I know you can’t talk about these things,” Aster said hesitantly, “but–”

“The flashback happened during training.” Gabriel uttered suddenly.

“…what happened?” Aster asked, wrong-footed by Gabriel’s sudden confession.

“They leave you in space for 24 hours.” Gabriel replied nonchalantly, “If your sanity is intact by the time they pick you up, you pass.”

“Isn’t zero-g combat part of basic training?”

“It is,” Gabriel confirmed, “but that involves learning how to navigate in space using EVA suits. In the training I underwent, they throw you into the void with just a basic suit and 25 hours’ worth of oxygen, enough to get you through the exercise. But there’s no thruster pack, no safety tether, and no retrieval team for those who want to quit early.”

“That sounds awful.” Aster said horrified.

“Worst of all is the toll on the mind,” Gabriel continued. “The sheer emptiness around you. It’s the worst kind of isolation, and you just have to endure it.”

Aster was silent as she processed his surprise honesty. Gabriel was even more surprised that he had done it. He hadn’t technically revealed anything operational, but that certainly wasn’t something the average civilian needed to know.

“I’m glad you told me that.” She said at length, snuggling closer to him, “I hate that the Masterminds know more about what goes on inside your head than I do.”

“You wouldn’t like what you find in there.” Gabriel warned her.

“Maybe not,” she answered, “but I’d rather know than have you shut me out altogether.”

“Also, would you mind not swearing so much?” Gabriel changed the subject again, “I don’t want the children waking and overhearing it.”

“Oh, do accept my humblest apologies, Mr Gabriel,” Aster replied in a mock, upper class accent, “I would hate to sound like a ‘fleeking’, uncouth colonial.”

Gabriel’s smartphone chimed a second time. The holographic screen displayed a plain message from a different sender: ‘Morning drinks at Ellipsis, booth 39. See you there.’

Gabriel scowled at the message. An invitation to drinks at an elite club for the rich and pampered was one thing; an invitation phrased as an instruction was downright condescending. Then again, it was typical of the sender to do that.

“Another message from work?” Aster asked.

“No, it’s a drinks invitation,” Gabriel said darkly.

“I hope it’s not from a mistress of yours.” Aster poked him playfully.

“I don’t have anyone on the side,” Gabriel replied in complete seriousness. “But I do know the sender. One guess who it is.”

Now it was Aster’s turn to scowl.

“Give her my regards,” she said with barely concealed contempt, “or don’t.”

“Understood.” Gabriel replied.

“And take that fucking thing off your head!” She snapped, reaching over and ripping the gel-strip off his forehead. Gabriel neither flinched nor complained.

* * *

Gabriel preferred the shower cold, the better to hurry up and start the day. Aster, however, insisted on a warm shower so they could take their time. The water ran in soothing rivulets across their bodies, and a cloud of vapour filled the intimate space. There was enough space for two people, though not enough to avoid sharing some skin.

“So what are you doing at work today?” Aster asked as she washed her hair.

“Probably just tests and refresher drills.” Gabriel lied.

Aster responded by sliding a hand down to Gabriel’s crotch. Her grip was gentle enough, but it made him stiffen up in more ways than one.

“Don’t lie to me, dear.” She admonished.

“What makes you think I’m lying?” he asked.

“You always get a message from work before disappearing.” Aster replied as she held him under the water, “they don’t call you in that early in the morning for routine stuff.”

“I don’t know what I’ll be doing at work today,” Gabriel answered, “and my security clearance would prohibit me from saying anything, anyway.”

“Of course, I understand.” Aster said, looking up at him, “besides, all that hazard pay you rake in puts food on the table.”

“Actually, my hazard pay is enough to buy us a small spaceship.” Gabriel replied.

“It’s an expression, idiot.” Aster said, flicking his temple with her finger, “If you’re this slow at work, your hazard pay probably isn’t worth the risks you take.”

“You do know that my hazard pay is on a pro rata basis, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know, the longer you’re on deployment, the more you earn.” Aster answered, “That’s probably the only thing that makes up for you being away so much. Otherwise, my salary is more than enough.”

“I need to get ready for work.” Gabriel said.

* * *

Breakfast consisted of flavoured nutrient juice, with Gabriel downing an entire bottle to the dregs before changing into his midnight-black uniform. Once he was ready, he headed straight for the front door; but before he could leave the house, he was ambushed by three little figures still in their nightclothes.

“Morning, daddy!” His children chorused as he squatted down to greet them.

They weren’t quite peas in a pod, but they all had their father’s distinctive electric green irises, and some of his features. The oldest, seven year old Orion, was already a few inches taller than his two sisters and, apart from his mother’s curly hair, almost resembled a clone of his father. Rose, the older of the two little girls managed to lift herself onto Gabriel’s knee before making an adventurous attempt to climb aboard her father’s shoulders.

“Sorry, sweethearts.” Gabriel plucked his five year-old daughter from her perch and placed her carefully back on the ground, “daddy has to go to work.”

Couldn’t his children just get up earlier and greet him before breakfast instead of when he was on his way out the door? As nice as this little morning ritual was, it was holding him up and could make him late. The director-general hated unpunctuality, and so did he. In fact being delayed at all was downright irritating.

Somewhere in the back of Gabriel’s mind it occurred to him what a cold train of thought this was to have about his own children. All they wanted to do was say good morning to him. Even so, was it too much to ask that they do it earlier in the morning?

His aspiring mountain-climber daughter reached up and irreverently poked her father in the nose with her tiny finger. Gabriel flinched in annoyance. He wanted to scold Rose, but he looked down and saw the cheeky grin on her face, and the shimmering emerald eyes she had inherited from him. He pursed his lips, then tapped her nose back in playful retaliation. She wrinkled her nose and giggled in response.

Why in Terra’s name did he expect his children to know or care about routine and schedule, or punctuality? They were just happy to see their father every morning. They knew even less about what he did when he was away than their mother. And unlike Aster, they wouldn’t understand what had happened if he never came back. Every morning they had together could be their last.

On an impulse, Gabriel pulled all three of them in for a group hug, squeezing them close. His children squeezed him back, happy for their father’s affection. This really could be the last time he saw or hugged them in person, and Gabriel’s annoyance melted away as he savoured the moment of familial closeness.

He looked up and saw Aster standing at the far end of the hall, their fourth and youngest child dozing her arms. Their eyes connected and Aster smiled at him. Gabriel smiled back as he squeezed their children close. Then he remembered.

“Their monthly check-up is today, by the way.” Gabriel reminded her.

“At eleven o’clock sharp, I know,” Aster responded, “I’ll get them fed and drop them off at the medical centre, then I’ll go to work.”

“So what are they having you build today?” Gabriel asked out of curiosity.

Aster’s warm expression turned into a frown.

“You’re not the only one with security clearance, you know.” She responded seriously.

Gabriel understood, and he dropped the issue.

* * *

It was standing room only this early in the morning, with over a hundred people huddled together in each carriage of the mag-train. Some were engaged in hushed conversation, others stood in silence as they watched the news on the holographic viewing screens or occupied themselves with their smartphones. A few passengers cast wary glances at the towering figure in their midst, dressed in a night-black military uniform, stern and motionless.

Gabriel stared out of the window, ignoring everyone. He didn’t mind the wary glances or the nervous stares directed at him, as long as they stayed out of his way. He did sort of mind having to be around so many people, especially the background din of frivolous chattering. But he had to take a detour before reporting for duty, and his destination was best reached via mag-train. He would just have to put up with it for now.

The magnetic rail was built as an extension from each skyscraper’s superstructure, snaking from tower to tower, occasionally splitting or converging at various junctions. The mag-train itself moved at incredibly high speeds, taking it to the centre of the city in very little time. Its path also took it several hundred stories above the ground, giving the passengers a view from the carriage window which never ceased to amaze.

Asgard was named after a heavenly realm from the legends of ancient Earth, and with its gleaming forest of Spires stretching far away into the distance, the city more than lived up to the moon’s mythical namesake. Asgard City was a megacity of over 80 million people, an urban nerve centre connected to countless smaller settlements across Asgard’s surface, and serving as the administrative and economic capital for the entire sector.

The gas giant Odin seemed to hover directly above, looming large through the artificial ozone haze, an enormous blue sphere beside the bright white orb in the sky. The local star bathed the moon of Asgard in a flattering radiance, with Asgard City as its crown jewel, beaming under the morning light. And to think that this was just one hub-world among many. One could only imagine what Terra itself must be like.

Looking down revealed a rather less glorious sight. Just visible in the shade, occupying the lower tiers of the city and woven in between the skyscrapers’ foundations, was a vast, multi-layered complex of warehouses, factories, and housing. It was called the Undercity, where most of the city’s industrial base was located; it was also the sprawling home of the vast majority of the city’s inhabitants, stretching deep underground and hiding most of it from view.

The Undercity was far less prosperous than the fabulously wealthy upper tiers of the city, an area known as the ‘Clouds’. Nor was it lost on anyone that the economic activity in the Undercity was what made the luxury of the Clouds possible, almost as if wealth were lighter than air. Most of those who lived in the Clouds had never been down to the Undercity, and the few that had didn’t care to return.

Gabriel had been down there many times.

* * *

The mag-train pulled into the central transport hub in the Ellipsis Commercial Tower. The enormous, shimmering monument of steel and glass was a marvel of engineering, reaching over a kilometre into the sky with foundations that reached at least that far underground. As well as one of the biggest mag-train stations in the city, it also housed the city’s main financial hub as well as the homes of most of its elite.

The doors opened and the passengers poured out onto the platform, dispersing down the various corridors and elevators of the enormous station. Heedless of his fellow passengers, Gabriel strode straight down the middle towards the main elevator, the crowds parting before him like a shoal of frightened fish.

Taking the elevator up to the top floor, Gabriel stepped out into the entrance hall of an exclusive, private club, perched at the top of the tower like a nest of luxury. An elaborate water feature, forged in the shape of a pair of mythical sea monsters, dominated the cavernous lobby. White and gold support beams arched over the entire complex, intertwining like the branches of a bird’s nest, with the natural light of the local star shining down through the glass in between the branching beams.

The super-elite came and went with their Human and android attendants, dressed in the latest and gaudiest fashions. Some of them paused briefly to stare at the intimidating figure marching down the hall towards the reception desk as if he belonged there. Gabriel knew how out of place he looked, and he didn’t care.

The Human receptionist was looking down at his desk, so Gabriel snapped his fingers to get his attention. The receptionist looked up, then flinched in shock.

“Um…only club members and their guests are allowed to pass beyond this point…sir.” the receptionist stammered.

“I am a guest.” Gabriel replied with an impatient scowl. “Scan me.”

The receptionist raised a trembling hand, pausing uncertainly between activating the biometric scanner or pressing the button under his desk.

“If you alert security, you’ll be dead before they can get here.” Gabriel said to the man dangerously, “now stop wasting my time and scan me.”

The receptionist did as he was ordered and activated the biometric scanner, flash-scanning Gabriel’s eyes and bringing up a profile on the receptionist’s computer screen. The receptionist narrowed his eyes as the system denied him access to Gabriel’s biographical information, then he turned pale when he saw why.

“Am I cleared to enter?” Gabriel asked menacingly.

“Yes…please go in.” the terrified receptionist replied, buzzing open the doors.

Gabriel marched through the doors into Club Ellipsis without another word.

The receptionist must have been brand new to the job. Normally, non-member guests had to be screened before being allowed in – for reasons having less to do with security and more to do with maintaining the club’s ‘exclusiveness’ – but anyone else at the desk would have known to wave Gabriel straight in after seeing the uniform.

Come to think of it, why have a Human manning the reception desk at all? An android could handle the job with far more efficiency and courtesy than that dolt. Perhaps the club wanted to guarantee employment for a member’s son or grandson or nephew, or perhaps having an actual Human at the front desk enhanced the club’s prestige by providing a ‘Human’ touch. Or maybe it was both.

Club Ellipsis itself was an extravagant, multi-level palace in the Clouds, complete with a bar and restaurant as well as numerous open and private booths with crystalline-glass tables and chairs. Antigravity platters flitted back and forth overhead with food, drink, and stimulants to serve the guests and their scantily-clad ‘companions’.

The sheer decadence on display was eye watering. The carpet was blood red – no doubt woven from bioengineered fur – and every wall was covered with pieces of expensive art. Some of the paintings and sculpture had clearly required genuine skill to produce, but others were vapid ego-statements by the artist – one of these pieces of ‘art’ was just a blank canvass with the artist’s signature on it.

How original.

The most extravagant piece of decoration, however, was suspended from the ceiling: an actual chandelier made from thousands of custom-forged diamonds suspended from a carefully manufactured frame with innumerable arms. Each diamond had been polished to a smooth finish, and refracted the sunlight out across the club in a kaleidoscope of rainbow colours. It must have cost a fortune.

Gabriel ignored everyone and everything, moving with purpose past the tables and private booths. The tables’ decadently dressed occupants paused their frivolous conversation to gawp at the menacing-looking military officer, this visibly out-of-place interloper, marching through their private club.

Out of the corners of his eyes, Gabriel could see their expressions – ranging from curiosity to alarm, and everything in between – frozen on their stupid faces. But no one dared cause a fuss, let alone call security or the staff, and Gabriel ascended the stairs to the next level unmolested. He approached booth 39 and waved his hand across the scanner to open the door, walking straight into an argument.

“You slippery bitch!” one booth occupant bellowed as Gabriel entered.

The shouter was a stout man dressed in a smart blue suit with a frilled, white shirt and collar. He had a bushy black moustache and his finely combed, dark hair was styled with parallel streaks of white dye. His angry expression remained frozen on his face as he turned around to see a uniformed soldier walking into the booth.

“Gabriel!” the other booth occupant beamed, “good of you to join us, have a seat.”

The angry shouter turned back to face the ‘slippery bitch’, his anger now tinged with a mixture of outrage and disbelief.

“Jezebel…” the shouter’s bellowing voice had been reduced to a shocked murmur, as if she had just committed some unforgiveable faux pas, “I would have thought even you recognised that politics and security don’t mix.”

“Politics and security?” Jezebel scoffed derisively, “I thought we were just talking about business, your failing business, to be exact. And, by the way, it’s ‘Madam Jezebel’ to you, Mr Darius. We’re not that friendly.”

Mr Darius turned on his heel and confronted Gabriel, his eyes narrowed to suspicious beads. It was a brave thing to do, considering that Gabriel stood a head taller than he did. Gabriel could smell men’s perfume on the man, an overpowering scent of tropical flowers that made him want to gag.

“Gabriel, was it?” Darius asked, employing the tone of a lord disciplining a servant.

“Colonel.” Gabriel replied flatly, not inclined to give away his full name.

“How in Terra’s name did you get into Club Ellipsis?” Darius demanded imperiously.

“Through the front door.” Was the cool reply.

“Ah,” Darius sneered, disliking the sarcastic nature of the response, “so if I were to have a word with your commanding officer–”

Darius never got to the end of his sentence as Gabriel wrapped his fingers around the man’s neck, lifting him clear off the ground with one arm and squeezing the rest of his threat out of his throat in the form of a choking noise.

Darius struggled and gasped, tugging in vain at the ironclad grip on his throat. His previously narrow eyes were now bulging with surprise and panic, and his cheeks were turning red with effort as he hyperventilated.

“Mr Darius,” Gabriel said, his soft tone making him sound far more menacing than he could have done by shouting, “Believe me when I tell you that you should hope never to meet my commanding officer.”

With that said, Gabriel relinquished his grip on the man’s neck, dropping him to the floor. Darius fell to his knees, clutching his throat and gasping for air for a full minute. Once he had recovered his breath, he moved to salvage his dignity by making a swift exit. The booth door sealed behind him, leaving Gabriel alone with Madam Jezebel.

“Quite a performance!” Madam Jezebel smirked, sipping from an ornate glass.

“I’m leaving.” Gabriel informed her, turning towards the door.

“Oh, don’t be so antisocial,” Madam Jezebel said, waving him back over, “I hardly get to see you anymore. Sit down, have a drink with me.”

Gabriel’s normally impassive features were crinkled ever so slightly into a scowl. He didn’t want to spend a minute longer in this woman’s company than absolutely necessary; nonetheless, he did feel a sense of obligation that was strong enough to overcome his reluctance. Slowly, he turned away from the door and took a seat directly opposite his hostess.

Madam Jezebel was a slim, elegant woman dressed in a snow white fur coat – an item of clothing with no practical use in the temperature controlled booth, but no doubt very chic – whatever that meant. Her eyes were a hazel brown colour, looking somewhat dark compared to the luminescence of his eyes, and her dark hair was styled with parallel blonde stripes, and was tied into a cornbraid.

She exuded an aristocratic presence with traces of a superior smirk perpetually playing at the corners of her blood red lips. Her relaxed demeanour stood in stark contrast to Gabriel’s rigid posture and stone-faced expression.

“Why am I here?” Gabriel asked with an undertone of impatience.

“Is there something wrong with talking to my son?” Jezebel Thorn asked innocently.

“In principle, nothing.” Gabriel conceded out of respect for logic.

“Well then presumably that’s why you’re here.” Madam Jezebel replied, as she took another sip, “Now lighten up and talk to me.”

Mother and son shared the same grammatically flawless speech and cadence of the upper classes. But whereas Gabriel’s time in the military had rendered his accent and pronunciation textbook-standard, Madam Jezebel retained the flute-like pitch and inflections which her son had long since shed.

“So, you didn’t just double-cross yet another business partner and summon me here to send a signal that you have friends in high places?” Gabriel asked suspiciously.

“You know better than I do that interference in security matters is illegal,” Madam Jezebel brushed aside the accusation without explicitly denying it, “not that you spook-types seem to have a problem lording it over the rest of us.”

Gabriel eyed her distrustfully, dissatisfied with her answer.

“Although, if you must know,” Madam Jezebel continued, “a joint venture between Darius and myself recently fell through and he was unhappy that I shorted his stock.”

“I thought you no longer fleeced colonists for profit.” Gabriel said with disdain.

“I have indeed left the colonial investment business which paid for your expensive upbringing here amongst the Clouds – for which you’re welcome, by the way,” was his mother’s breezy riposte, “so stop projecting your dear wife’s bitter feelings onto me. Speaking of which, how are my grandchildren getting along?”

“Very happy and progressing well.” Gabriel replied as if delivering a field report, “Orion will have mastered elementary algebra before he turns eight.”

“Hmm, cramming several millennia worth of knowledge into such tiny little heads.” Said Grandma Jezebel pensively, “call me a Luddite, but I’m not sure sticking them in front of a holo-screen for seven hours a day is good for them.”

“Call me rude, but I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Gabriel retorted.

“You’re rude,” Jezebel countered smoothly, “unless you can tell me why my own grandchildren are none of my business. When are they next coming over to visit?”

“If Aster has anything to say about it, never.” Gabriel replied.

“Of course. You know, I could get them accepted into one of the top engineering academies.” Grandma Jezebel offered magnanimously.

“Their father and mother both succeeded without a nepotistic leg up,” Gabriel answered, flatly declining the offer, “they can as well.”

“Well, that first part isn’t strictly true,” Madam Jezebel answered, unfazed by her son’s brusque tone, “But the offer remains open, nonetheless.”

Gabriel’s smartphone chimed, reminding him that it was almost 9am. Without a farewell or an explanation, he got up from his seat.

“Have fun at work.” Madam Jezebel waved him off with a smile.

Gabriel left the private booth and went back the way he had come.

Madam Jezebel Thorn had mastered the elegant, unassuming smile that she presented to the world, but it concealed a sociopathic contempt for others around her, particularly if they couldn’t help her schemes succeed. One wouldn’t know it from a single meeting, but she had made a sizeable fortune as one of the most ruthless colonial venture capitalists in the industry, providing the seed money for numerous outposts on the frontiers before pitilessly squeezing them for everything they were worth.

‘Vulture capitalists’ they were called, ready to seize export or import shipments to compensate for late payments or slash security meant to defend against corsair raids. Colonial outposts that were desperate enough to turn to vulture capitalist funders were effectively signing themselves into debt slavery.

Walking past the throngs of pampered parasites as they exchanged vapid gossip on the latest goings on, Gabriel was reminded that many of them had made or inherited fortunes from similarly amoral lines of business. Not all of them, to be sure; he also recognised the faces of tycoons in mining, robotics, shipbuilding, pharmaceuticals, heavy engineering, and consumer electronics. But there were more than a few vulture capitalists here – glorified loan sharks rubbing shoulders with the other sharks.

Here they all were, wallowing in self-indulgent decadence and luxury, feasting on the fruits of what were mostly other people’s labours; living in this well-feathered nest in the sky while tens of millions toiled in the squalid depths below. All of them were perfectly capable of stabbing each other in the back – and sometimes the chest – and had no doubt done so on multiple occasions in order to stay on top.

Gabriel felt few emotions at all. But there was one in particular that made its presence felt in his chest all the way back through the entrance hall.

It was Disgust.