Hopefully by now you’ve checked out my newest release, Tools of the Trade (if you haven’t, get on that 😉). When I first published Embers, Ken Oda quickly became a beloved character among readers. Tobias Niio had been a reader favorite since Ronan, so I thought it was high time I wrote a standalone story that delved a little deeper into the Niiosian Mob.
That part was fun enough. Writing a novella starring the bad guys was an interesting change of pace, even though a lot of the primary characters in my main series aren’t exactly saints themselves. But what was even more enjoyable was finding ways to tie this story into Fracture and Embers. We officially got to meet Jerrick Taan, Ken’s half-brother, who is already deceased by the time we hear his name in the Legacy duology. We caught a glimpse of Niio’s initial struggles against the Ibarra Cartel and Alastair Manes, which of course becomes the primary conflict in those Legacy books. But I also included some details for readers who are paying attention that might make us root for—and even sympathize with—Ken, even though a cold, calculating mob hitman isn’t usually the type of character worthy of such a thing.
In light of that, one of the things I’ve wanted to do since publishing Tools was write an alternate version of Embers chapter 7, just for fun, from Ken’s POV (and even try first-person). If you need your memory refreshed, this is the scene where he and Tobias debrief Ziva aboard the Revenant following the escape from Panuco. The scene carries a lot more weight after what we see in Tools, and I thought it would be fun (or maybe heart-wrenching) to try to capture that.
If you haven’t snagged a copy of Tools yet, you can find it at all your favorite ebook and audiobook retailers.
The conference room door hissed shut behind us, cutting off the muted clamor of the CIC—shouts, the hum of consoles, the echo of boots on metal grating. I followed Tobias around to the far side of the table and turned to find Agent Payvan standing with her back to the entrance, her posture rigid. I could tell she’d caught on to Tobias’s deliberate move. She slid to the head of the table before sitting, forcing us to twist sideways to face her, a subtle power play that drew a faint scowl from him. He held his tongue, though, and I found myself working to suppress a smirk. One couldn’t help but respect her nerve; not many people were bold enough to test the great Tobias Niio.
For security’s sake, I’d conditioned myself over the past two years to always refer to her by her cover identity, Matia Moryi. We all had. It felt odd to not only call her by her real name—even within the confines of my mind—but to meet her in the flesh. The woman sitting across the table from me bore little resemblance to the one I’d rendered medical treatment to upon her arrival aboard the Revenant, save for the chiseled facial structure and the perpetual scowl. I thought back to the moment I’d seen her walk onto the bridge, escorted by some of Tobias’s men. The single image I had of her—captured just before she’d departed for Panuco—truly didn’t do her justice. Her imposing figure had admittedly caught me off guard, and I’d briefly found it absurd that this was who I’d spent the past two years looking out for, this woman who looked like she could handle anything the galaxy threw at her. But those observations had quickly sparked new, less pleasant thoughts that prickled in my chest…namely, all the reasons she was the one I’d been looking out for, rather than someone else…rather than my own brother.
I leaned forward in my chair, my data pad cool in my hands. “We have all of the reports you were able to transmit over the past couple of years,” I said, swiping through the pad, my voice steady despite the knot in my chest, “but there are a few events I’d like to go over in more detail. I’m confident this information will give us the upper hand, if not put Manes and Ibarra at a direct disadvantage.” The words felt hollow; every line of data in every report on the device was tainted by Jerrick’s fall—his capture on Naris, his brainwashing into a weapon that slaughtered Niiosian ranks. I met her gaze, searching for any sign of the killer who’d ended him, but her nod was curt, resigned, as if she’d expected this reckoning.
“Let’s start from the top,” I said, my throat tightening. “You first gained access to the Ibarra Cartel when you killed Jerrick Taan, Manes’s previous assassin. Tell me more about that encounter.”
My brother’s name hung heavy in the air. Her eyes flicked to mine, probing, and I had to put conscious effort into keeping my face neutral. She’d watched me with a measure of curiosity while I’d treated her wounds out on the bridge, and I suspected she’d noticed the familial resemblance. Starting this conversation off by asking about Jerrick seemed to have sealed the deal. I silently kicked myself for being careless, though upon second thought, I wasn’t sure why it mattered whether she knew. It was just…Jerrick was my brother, my responsibility. My fault.
“It was a long process tracking him down,” she answered, her voice measured, studying me. “I finally managed to locate a Niiosian informant he was hunting and turned my sights on Taan under the pretense that I was keeping him from killing my target. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone after someone to keep them from taking my bounty.”
I frowned. I knew I needed to hear this, but the clinical edge to her words stung. I’d done my best to track Jerrick’s movements ever since he’d left for Naris, and I’d continued to do so even after it had become evident that Alastair Manes had twisted him. Maybe part of me had hoped he could somehow be redeemed. But another part recognized that the damage had been done. By the time Ziva arrived on Niio, Jerrick was wreaking havoc on our ranks under Manes’s orders. Deep down, I objectively knew that to cripple Ibarra at the source, she would be required to eliminate a number of obstacles that stood between her and its leader. Obstacles that included my brother.
“May I ask, Agent Payvan…was his death painless?” My fingers stiffened on the data pad as the question slipped out, rawer than I intended. Jerrick’s fate haunted me, but I’d seen evidence of the carnage he’d wrought—his precision cuts turned to slaughter, his skills turned against those who had made him. That man was a shadow of the brother I’d known.
She paused, and a weighty silence fell over the room. Her blood-red eyes went out of focus as though her mind was elsewhere, perhaps reliving the events of the day we spoke of. I felt a small pang of remorse about forcing her to recount these details; I certainly didn’t want to see whatever images she was seeing.
“No,” she finally replied, blinking as she returned to the present. “It wasn’t.” Her gaze shifted to Tobias, who watched the two of us with icy detachment.
The knot in my chest tightened in a familiar way that sent me right back to the final days I’d spent with my brother, and I gave the ache several seconds to dissipate before offering her a single nod. “I appreciate the honest answer. May I ask, then, how he died?”
In response, she reached to her thigh and unsheathed the combat knife strapped there. I’d noticed it on the bridge and had immediately thought of Jerrick and his affinity for blades. But as Ziva slid the weapon toward me hilt-first, I was left momentarily speechless when I found myself looking at the knife. Jerrick’s knife. The delicate engravings in the blade were unmistakable. The fact that she had possession of it was telling enough, but I got the sense that by presenting it now, she was silently answering my question. I released a sigh as the truth hit me: she’d used my brother’s own weapon against him, an eye-for-an-eye approach Tobias no doubt approved of. The smirk he currently wore confirmed it, a cold satisfaction that grated against my grief.
I managed to pry my attention away from the knife and lifted my gaze to meet hers. “Thank you for doing what I couldn’t, Agent Payvan,” I said, the words tasting of ash. I meant it; Tobias had never admitted it outright, but I’d always gotten the sense that sending Ziva after Jerrick was his way of showing me mercy. I’d killed plenty of people over the years on his behalf, but if he’d asked me to eliminate my own brother—mindless Ibarra drone or not—I’m not sure if I could have. “I think…I believe you put my brother out of his misery.”
The phrase felt morbid, but accurate; Jerrick, a puppet of the Ibarra Cartel, had been lost long before she found him. The way her lips flattened into a thin line told me she understood my meaning.
Tobias cleared his throat, and I felt his hand come to rest on my shoulder—a rare gesture, perhaps commiserating, though his tone shifted briskly. “As enlightening as this has been, the more prudent use of our time would be to discuss the specifics surrounding our friend Alastair Manes.”
I nodded, taking a split second to compose myself as I swiped through the data pad again. “Six weeks elapsed between Taan’s elimination and Manes’s invitation to join Ibarra, correct?” My voice steadied, the knife’s presence on the table somehow comforting.
Ziva hesitated, her gaze once again growing distant, as if the question had sent her back to a specific time and place. The knowledge that she and Jerrick had likely endured many of the same trials at Manes’s hands, yet she had emerged relatively unscathed, tugged anew at the knot behind my sternum.
“Ibarra forces apprehended me after I killed Taan, as planned,” she answered. “They transported me to Panuco, though I remember nothing of the journey, and I was held prisoner while Manes had me…vetted. For roughly six weeks, yes.” Her crimson eyes darted toward the wall as something popped in the bulkhead.
“And that was enough to build a decent rapport with him?” I pressed, noting her tension.
“Relatively speaking. I don’t believe he ever fully trusted me, but the nature of our relationship afforded me access to some information I may have never obtained using my own resources alone. That is, until my team arrived and disrupted my operation.” Her stare bore into Tobias, a silent accusation.
Something verging on regret crossed his face, a look I didn’t see often. “I feel I must apologize to you again, Agent Payvan,” he said. “As I was telling Agent Duvo, had I been aware of Pahl Starcer’s plot to enlist your team’s help in taking out your alias, I may have been more understanding of the circumstances. It would seem this scheme to recover his specs from Delatori is what ultimately brought us to where we are now.”
“Indeed,” she muttered.
“Speaking of Delatori,” I said, “what else can you tell us that might aid us in our mission to retrieve those specs?”
“I can tell you Delatori has been Manes’s obsession for the better part of a year, and the fact that Ibarra managed to take control of it might actually be buying you people time to act. I’ve done what I can to sabotage Cartel projects over the past few months, but Manes has been getting closer and closer to being fully equipped for an incursion into the heart of Niiosian territory. One of the primary reasons that hasn’t happened yet is because his crew is busy strip-mining Delatori for all it’s worth in order to reinforce their fleet and armament.” Her voice was flat, but I sensed the strain in it, the fear that all the work she’d done would be for naught if we didn’t act soon.
“And the same resources would benefit our forces in return,” Tobias mused, staring at the wall. “I would wager a bet that if we were to regain control of Delatori, it would be an even more devastating blow to Ibarra than what we dealt on Panuco.”
I returned my attention to Ziva. “You’ve been on Delatori recently. What’s the Ibarra presence like?”
“They’re there in force,” she replied. “Granted, once all the major settlements were evacuated, they scaled back and most of the remaining presence consists of mercenaries, workers, and scientists overseeing the recovery of materials. Firepower isn’t as strong as it once was, but overall numbers are…not insignificant.”
“Our scouts have reported that the Ibarra vessels that escaped from Panuco fled toward the Errol sector, away from Delatori,” Tobias said.
“Regrouping at the Naris outpost, you think?” I asked.
To this day, the word ‘Naris’ left a sour taste in my mouth. I’d never been able to shake the fact that the undercover op that had sent Jerrick there—only to be captured and indoctrinated by Manes—was supposed to be mine. It should’ve been me. Jerrick was too cavalier, too blinded by ambition, too easily manipulated. But a last-minute injury I’d sustained had resulted in him being sent in my place. If it had been me, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now. Manes would have never risen to power, Ibarra’s expansion would have been curbed, and my brother would still be alive. But none of that had come to pass, all because of a mistake I’d made.
Still not convinced it was a mistake, a long-suppressed voice whispered in the back of my mind.
“I do,” Tobias said in response to my question. “And with the majority of their firepower located there, that leaves Delatori ripe for the taking.”
“Do we have enough firepower to deal with the force on Delatori?” Ziva asked. The word ‘we’ sounded forced, like she detested the thought of referring to herself as one of us.
“Perhaps not to completely overwhelm them and ensure an unconditional surrender,” Tobias admitted, “but we would if we pooled our resources just as Manes seems to be doing. If we act quickly while he is still licking his wounds, we can gather the remainder of our ships and move to reclaim Delatori without compromising Niio’s defenses.”
I noted the unimpressed look that darkened Ziva’s features, though I couldn’t tell if it stemmed from the audacity of the plan or concern about her and her team getting dragged further into this mess. For just a moment, I felt a pang of sympathy; this wasn’t their fight. But at the same time, they could be incredibly valuable tools if wielded properly.
Tobias stood and began pacing back and forth along the wall, his hands clasped behind his back. “Ken, the Delatori mission parameters have changed. Once you and the Haphezian agents have recovered the schematics, you will act as an advance team and perform reconnaissance of the area. Meanwhile, we will remain hidden here in the nebula while the remainder of our forces gather—a couple of days, at least. Then we’ll bring the full fleet to Delatori en masse.” He turned to Ziva. “Is there a particular asset that, if lost, would cripple Manes most severely?”
The woman had once more resorted to staring at the wall, lower lip caught between her teeth, lost in some memory. She may have survived her ordeal on Panuco and escaped Manes’s clutches, but the effect on her mind was another matter entirely.
Tobias drew a breath to address her again, snapping her back to reality. “Zocrum,” she murmured, leaving her gaze fixed on the wall. “If there’s one resource he wants more than anything else on Delatori, it’s zocrum.”
I flicked through the data pad, certain I’d seen a report related to the topic at hand. “The primary zocrum repository is under Ibarra control,” I confirmed as my eyes fell upon the correct file. “The facility sustained damage in the initial occupation…” My voice trailed off as I absorbed the information and did the math. “If Manes is able to recover even a portion of the materials there, he could amplify his fleet’s weaponry tenfold.”
“Then we’d best claim them before he does,” Tobias chuckled. “Agent Payvan, is there anything more you can tell us about the—”
She’d been sitting there with a vacant expression while we spoke, and I doubted she was even listening. But she stood abruptly before Tobias finished his sentence, eyes blazing, face stony. “Everything ‘I can tell you’ is right there,” she muttered, jabbing a finger toward my data pad. “You figure your sheyss out and then just tell me where to go and who to kill next.”
We watched in stunned silence as she spun toward the door, but Tobias’s voice halted her. “Don’t wander too far, Agent Payvan. I believe I’ve got a wedding to conduct here shortly.”
Her jaw twitched as she ground her teeth, but she hit the door controls and went out without a word. Silence fell over the room once more, heavier than before. It seemed as though I was correct in my assessment that, while free from Manes and Ibarra in a physical sense, the mental aspects of the whole ordeal had taken their toll on her. I realized that in many ways, she reminded me of Jerrick—her quiet fury, the constant fire in her eyes. Maybe that explained why I’d felt almost protective of her for the duration of her operation. I couldn’t look after my brother when he needed it, so I’d resorted to looking after the person who’d taken his place. Still, the fact that she’d been able to withstand Manes’s manipulation and he hadn’t made the whole affair bittersweet. I couldn’t help but resent her on that front, no matter how much I respected so many of her other traits.
But I’d gotten the answers I’d been both dreading and craving for the past two years. They did nothing to fix the situation, but I found they brought me a sense of closure. Ziva could have easily kept Jerrick’s knife for herself, but she’d chosen to return it to me, and I was grateful for that. I stared down at the blade where it sat before me on the table. Carrying it would mean having a part of my brother with me again, and I could think of no better use for such a tool than turning it against Alastair Manes once and for all.
Tobias stepped into my field of vision, his face twisted in a displeased grimace as he looked toward the closed door. “I hope you got everything you needed,” he muttered, adjusting his spectacles.
I tucked the data pad away and picked up Jerrick’s knife as I rose from my seat, its weight familiar in my hands. I looked up and met Tobias’s icy gaze.
“I do believe I did.”
