Free The Forgotten City by Nina D'Aleo Page B

Diega maneuvered herself behind the steering yoke, letting out the seat, her legs longer than Eli’s.
    Jude patted Eli’s shoulder in the back seat. “Nice work, my friend – once again you’ve outdone yourself.”
    “I would say the same,” Diega looked back at him in the mirrors, “but I don’t want you to start blubbering again.”
    Eli laughed, looking much more like himself, even with the bloodshot eyes.
    Hearing a distinctive snore from his pocket, Diega said, “Overgrown rat still not taking to her cage?”
    “In short,” Eli said, “no. I just couldn’t get her to go inside tonight. Things shouldn’t get too … serious … at the fight-in, should they?” he asked anxiously.
    Diega gestured to Copernicus sitting beside her and said, “For him it will be serious. For us – there’s always the chance of craziness as well, but the rat’s a veteran at this by now. She’ll be fine.”
    Eli gulped, both he and Silho looking decidedly ill at the thought of Copernicus fighting. Diega wouldn’t have admitted it aloud, but she was feeling a similar disquiet at the idea. Copernicus himself looked as cool and controlled as always, and Jude just seemed ticked off at everyone, excluding Eli. Diega sensed it was going to be one of those days that she wished was over before it had even begun.
    She started up the engine and Eli said, “Just watch the propulsion, it’s very —”
    Diega took off with a speed that shocked even her, smashing everyone back in their seats. They rocketed toward Sirenseron – the former royal palace, and topmost level of Scorpia.

Chapter 6
Croy
Kullra Fornax
Nÿr-Corum (The Filter)
    T he floating pier rocked with a deceitful serenity as Croy and Darius approached the gathering at the end of the jetty. Croy counted the number of personnel already on scene. They totaled twelve – twelve bodies dropping extraneous threads and fibers, twenty-four boots trampling over tracks, a hundred and twenty fingers smudging prints and contaminating evidence. The Conference had chosen not to listen to her when she’d explained to them about crime-scene integrity. They wanted things done the same way they always had been, even if it was the wrong way.
    She grimaced at a sharp twinge in her knee. The idea of pain relief called to her, as it always did around this time. She liked to believe that one dayturn she would be strong enough to resist, but she had gone way past the point of making any more hollow promises to herself. Croy touched a hand to the pendant around her neck, a shaped piece of metal John L had given her. It was shrapnel from a Dray ship, from his maiden voyage as a Fleetsman. It had been a simple water run that had turned into a massacre, only John L and one other Fleetsman surviving. Though he’d fought in hundreds of battles against the Dray after that, he’d said it was always the one that woke him screaming from his sleep.
    When they were near to the others, Darius called out.
    “Oi.”
    Twelve faces turned their way, reflecting back a mix of emotions. Controllers Knightsbridge and Newton and their trainee, Micken Kisslefish, stood up at the end of the jetty. Kisslefish grinned, Newton’s face darkened and Knightsbridge walked out to meet them, extending a hand to Darius.
    “Mister Darius DeCavisi. How are you, my friend?”
    “Fine,” Darius grunted. He grasped Knightsbridge’s forearm briefly, but didn’t smile or meet his eyes.
    “You ready for tonight?” Knightsbridge asked. He crossed his arms over his bulging chest and the seams of his shirt strained. The man had a fetish for undersized clothes, with fabric that rode up in ways and places that couldn’t possibly be comfortable. Croy highly suspected it had something to do with trying to make his muscles look as big as possible, but his overplay reeked almost as much his body odor.
    Darius nodded.
    “It’s going to be a good game,” Knightsbridge continued. “Their centerstrike is out with ankle-swell. That