Primal Bond (Warlords of Vasz #4)

7. Chapter 7

Chapter seven

Z anik stepped off the Ironclad, the familiar hum of the engines fading as he entered the docking bay of Korros Station. His boots clanked against the metal floor of the bustling space station, the echoes swallowed by the noise of traders and travelers rushing around.

Subtly adjusting the earpiece, he spoke into the tiny mic hidden in his collar. "Testing. You reading me?"

A moment's silence, then Finn's voice came through. "Loud and clear."

Zanik’s eyes narrowed, scanning the crowd. The deal he’d struck with Finn still felt strange. Trusting a human went against every instinct he’d honed over the years. Humans had brought ruin to his people during the war. He had seen them as merciless, deceitful creatures. On the frontline, they'd mown down his brethren, his kin.

Yet, when he looked into Finn’s eyes, he saw something different. A clear, unyielding desire for revenge.

It wasn't an act; it was raw and honest.

Zanik strode through the bustling corridors of Korros, his posture relaxed but alert. The station hummed with life, a far cry from the calm Borraq villages he'd once called home. Neon signs flickered above makeshift stalls, their garish colors reflecting off puddles of spilled drinks and grime. The air was thick with the scent of metal and machine grease.

All around him, Borraq of various clans mingled. Some wore the traditional garb of their villages, while others had kept their gear from the interstellar war. Zanik noted the glint of cybernetic enhancements on more than a few individuals.

This was a place for those who had turned their backs on the rigid structure of Borraq society, seeking fortune or freedom among the stars.

For those who were just like him.

As he navigated the crowded walkways, Zanik's mind churned over the information Finn had provided. Drezak, a supplier who should have been loyal to Zanik, was apparently in Rivek's pocket. The betrayal stung, but more than that, it was dangerous. In his line of work, loyalty was currency, and Drezak's treachery could cost Zanik dearly.

Zanik's fingers twitched, longing to wrap around the hilt of his blade. He imagined the satisfying crunch of bone as he drove his fist into Drezak's face, the gurgle of blood as his knife found its mark.

But no, not yet. He needed confirmation first. Measure twice, cull once.

Still, the thought of impending retribution sent a cold thrill down his spine. He'd show them all what happened to those who thought they could betray Zanik and live. His reputation as a ruthless smuggler lord wasn't built on mercy, and he had no intention of softening now.

Zanik pushed through a cluster of merchants haggling over some mechanical parts. The air was thick with the smell of fried food and the constant murmur of voices. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the stalls, searching for any sign of Drezak.

His mind wandered back to Finn’s information. The human claimed he saw Rivek talking with a Borraq named Drezak. But Borraq names were not easy for humans to grasp… There was a chance Finn had heard wrong.

Human names always sounded soft and weak compared to the hard, guttural sounds of Borraq names. Humans themselves were soft, fragile creatures. If Finn had indeed misheard the name, it wouldn’t be surprising. Borraq names were a challenge for human ears, their harsh sounds clashing with the soft tones humans were accustomed to.

To get a real confirmation, Zanik needed to show Finn Drezak in the flesh — or as close to it as Finn could get, anyway. The camera hidden in his collar sent a live feed back to the ship, where Finn watched with rapt attention.

Zanik moved with purpose, his sharp eyes flicking over the faces of those around him. Finn’s voice crackled through the earpiece, a constant presence. “This place is wild. Is that a live animal in that cage?” Finn’s voice held a mix of wonder and curiosity.

Zanik glanced at the cage, barely giving it a second thought. “A Korvian Razorbeast. A common pet for traders. They’re good for protection.”

Finn’s low whistle of astonishment echoed in his ear. “Protection? That thing looks like it could eat someone alive.”

Zanik smirked. “That’s the point.”

As he continued, he tried to see the station through Finn’s eyes. The stalls overflowing with alien goods, the vendors shouting in various languages, the neon lights casting eerie glows on everything. To Zanik, it was routine. But to Finn, it was clearly a marvel.

“Those lights,” Finn said, awe creeping into his voice. “They make everything look... I don’t know, like it’s from another world.”

Zanik raised an eyebrow. “To you, it is from another world.”

“You know what I mean,” Finn replied, a hint of exasperation in his tone.

Zanik finally reached Drezak's regular shopfront, a dingy establishment crammed between two larger, more reputable businesses. The neon sign above flickered, casting erratic shadows on the grimy facade. He pushed open the rusty door, the bell above tinkling an off-key note.

The assistant behind the counter looked up, eyes widening as he recognized Zanik. He swallowed hard, visibly nervous.

“I need to speak with Drezak,” Zanik said, his voice a controlled growl. “Now.”

The assistant's hands trembled slightly as he set down the device he’d been tinkering with. “Uh, of course. Right away, sir.”

He scurried off through a back door, casting a few anxious glances over his shoulder. Zanik watched him go, his expression impassive. Was the assistant's fear a sign of guilt, or merely the natural reaction to Zanik’s presence?

"He's jumpy," Finn's voice crackled in his ear.

Zanik leaned against the counter, keeping his gaze fixed on the door. "What else do you remember?"

Finn’s voice took on a thoughtful tone. "The guy Rivek called Drezak talked a lot about shipments, specific dates. Rivek was always impatient, wanted things done yesterday. They argued a lot, but Drezak always gave in. Spineless, really."

Zanik’s eyes remained fixed on the door the assistant had disappeared through, his mind already calculating the different ways this meeting could go. Patience was not his strong suit, especially when he felt like a target was slipping through his fingers. The tension in his muscles made him feel like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment.

In his ear, Finn’s voice cut through the silence. “You know, this station isn’t half bad. Kind of reminds me of the fairs back home. Ever been to a fair?”

Zanik’s jaw tightened. “No. I have no interest in fairs.”

“Shame,” Finn continued, his tone light and teasing. “You might enjoy them. Lots of good food and music."

"I do not care for food or music."

"Really? Then you need to go to one even more. You could broaden your horizons.”

“I doubt that.”

A soft chuckle echoed through the earpiece. “Come on, don’t be such a stick in the mud. Maybe try a hot dog or something.”

Zanik had no idea what that was. He stayed silent.

“Do Borraq even have comfort food? Something to take the edge off?” Finn continued, unfazed by his stony audience. “Maybe that’s your problem. You’re all business, no chill.”

Zanik’s patience wore thin, but he kept his expression neutral. “This isn’t a conversation I’m interested in having.”

Finn’s snort of laughter was soft but unmistakable. “You’re so serious all the time. Lighten up a bit. Who knows, maybe you’d actually crack a smile.”

Before Zanik could possibly respond to that, the door creaked open. Drezak's assistant reappeared, his face pale and eyes wide. “Drezak will see you now.”

Zanik pushed off the counter, his expression hardening once more. “Good.”

Zanik followed the assistant into the familiar back room of Drezak's shop. The musty air carried the scent of old engine parts and stale sweat, a combination that always made Zanik's nose wrinkle. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with an assortment of parts — new contraband, no doubt.

In the center stood a worn desk, its surface covered in datapads and half-finished devices. Drezak lounged behind it, his horns gleaming in the dim light. He cocked his head, a cautious smile playing on his lips. "Zanik, what an unexpected pleasure. Is there something you need?"

Before Zanik could respond, Finn's voice crackled through the earpiece, clear and confident. "That's him! That's the guy I saw with Rivek!"

In one fluid motion, Zanik unsheathed his blade. The metallic whisper of steel against leather was the only warning before he struck. With practiced precision, he drove the blade into Drezak's throat.

Drezak's eyes widened in shock, a gurgling sound escaping his lips as he clutched at his neck. Blood seeped between his fingers, staining his golden skin crimson. He toppled backwards, chair clattering to the floor.

Zanik watched impassively as Drezak's life ebbed away, his face a mask of cold indifference. The kill had been clean, efficient – the mark of a trained warrior who had long since lost any qualms about taking life.

As Drezak's body stilled, Zanik turned his icy gaze to the assistant. The young Borraq stood frozen in the corner, terror etched across his features. His eyes darted between Zanik and the corpse of his former boss, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

Zanik's voice was low and menacing as he addressed the trembling assistant. "This is what happens to anyone in this sector who chooses Rivek over me. Spread the word."

Without waiting for a response, Zanik wiped his blade clean on Drezak's shirt and sheathed it. A sense of satisfaction coursed through him, the thrill of violence momentarily sating the constant anger that simmered beneath his stoic exterior.

He strode out of the shop, his steps confident and purposeful.

The patrons of Korros Station barely spared him a glance, accustomed to the occasional outburst of violence. Those who did look quickly averted their eyes, not wanting to draw the attention of a figure like Zanik.

His body thrummed with adrenaline. The kill had been clean, efficient, and deeply satisfying. His predatory instincts purred contentedly, reveling in the swift justice he'd delivered.

Finn's eager voice crackled through the earpiece. "Holy shit… That was incredible! The way you just took him out without even saying anything! That was brutal."

Zanik's steps faltered, his blood suddenly running cold. The satisfaction that had coursed through him moments ago evaporated, leaving a hollow pit in his stomach.

"I mean, I've never seen anyone move that fast," Finn continued, his voice filled with eager awe. "You're like a living weapon. It's amazing."

Zanik clenched his jaw, the words stinging more than they should. When had he become this person, capable of such ruthless efficiency? The answer lay buried in the past, in the years of war that had shaped him into a weapon.

Once, he had been a warrior with honor, fighting to protect his people.

Now, he was a smuggler, killing in cold blood to protect his profits.

He halted abruptly, his hands balling into fists. “Don’t, Finn.”

The line went silent. The sudden absence of Finn’s voice was unsettling.

Zanik took a deep breath, the air thick with the mingled scents of the station. Guilt twisted in his gut, a sharp reminder of how far he’d fallen.

He continued walking, the silence in his earpiece stretching on.

He hadn’t meant to lash out, but Finn’s admiration had cut too close to the bone. Zanik had spent years burying his emotions, but Finn’s constant chatter had started to break down those walls.

Now, without it, the silence was deafening.

Finally, Finn’s voice came through again, quieter, more subdued. “I didn’t mean to—”

Zanik interrupted, his tone softer now. “I know. Just… don’t. I’m not someone you should admire.”

The silence returned, heavy and oppressive.

Zanik trudged through the bustling corridors of Korros, the silence in his earpiece weighing heavily on him. He felt broody, a sensation he despised. It reminded him too much of the person he used to be, before he'd learned to shut away his emotions.

As he passed a merchant's stand, a familiar scent caught his attention. His eyes landed on a display of freshly baked vrok'nar, a traditional Borraq pastry. The sight of it transported him back to his childhood on Vasz, before the war had changed everything.

Finn's earlier joke echoed in his mind: Do Borraq even have comfort food?

Without consciously deciding to do so, Zanik found himself purchasing a box. As he handed over the credits, he realized what he'd done, and felt a twinge of embarrassment.

Finn's voice crackled through the earpiece, surprise evident in his tone. "Did you just buy something? What is it? Does it have something to do with Rivek?"

Zanik cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. "This is vrok'nar. It's a sweet pastry filled with spiced fruit."

"Oh," Finn replied, sounding confused. "Is it... for you?"

"It's for Kelara," Zanik said quickly. "She has a monstrous sweet tooth." He paused, then added, "You may have a small amount, if you wish."

There was a moment of silence before Finn spoke again, his voice uncertain. "Are you... making fun of me?"

Zanik couldn't help but chuckle at Finn's bewilderment. The human's confusion was oddly endearing. "No, I'm not making fun of you."

Zanik quickened his pace, eager to return to the ship and leave Korros Station behind. The unfamiliar weight of the vrok'nar box in his hand felt like a physical reminder of his momentary lapse in control. He hadn't intended to buy anything, much less some sentimental treat.

But perhaps it wasn't a bad idea to offer Kelara a peace offering after their earlier argument. She'd wanted to get rid of Finn, to not put their faith in intel sourced from — of all possible things — a random human pet.

It was good advice, even if Zanik had disregarded it.

As he approached the Ironclad, his ship loomed large, a symbol of his power and influence. It was a constant reminder of how far he'd come and the empire he'd built from the ashes of his past. But now, as he stared at the massive vessel, he couldn't shake the feeling that it also represented the uncertain path that lay ahead.

They'd taken a step forward, and were closer to taking down Rivek. But there were still steps to take, challenges to face, and unknown variables to account for.

And now, pastry to eat.