Sneak Peek: MALCON

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Sneak Peek: MALCON

Malcon is one of my favorite characters from The Twelve Systems Chronicles, and as close as my stories come to having a ‘dark’ hero. A trained assassin, he is ruthless, violent, and implacable. He does not balk at grim deeds but is also unswervingly loyal to the man who saved him from the assassins’ guild. Although the majority of Malcon takes place after the events of The Twelve Systems Chronicles, I could not resist the compulsion to delve into his formative years and how he ended up imprisoned by pirates and eventually rescued by the man who would become the Serengeti spymaster in The Twelve Systems Chronicles.

The following is from the first draft of Malcon. Since my editor has not seen it, all errors are mine.

Pirates. Abandoning pretext, Malcon raced for his cabin. He considered and discarded disappearing into the environmental and mechanical ducts until the pirates left. If they followed recent patterns, they would take the passengers and crew captive, strip the vessel of everything of value, and scuttle it, ensuring no witnesses could hide and survive.

Around him, panicked passengers clamored at the staff for explanations. Bypassing the riser, he vaulted into a servitor’s accessway, taking the stairs two and three at a time. He emerged on his level to the announcement that passengers should remain calm and in their quarters. Reaching his cabin, he staggered through the door as the vessel rocked under impact.

Had the pirates fired on them? No. They were being boarded. As soon as he had the thought, the announcements continued: “Remain calm. Follow instructions, and no one will be harmed.”

That was a lie. The pirates would enslave anyone they could not ransom. Ransacking storage compartments, he slid a coil of wire into the heel of one boot and a small signal disruptor into the other. Could he shift his persona? It might be unwise. The pirates would have access to a manifest and would know Master Terrence was on board, while an unknown persona would raise dangerous questions.

He snatched up his satchel. Better to join the crowd in the observation lounge. He would have time to assess the pirates before they focused on him.

Demon shit. His dagger. A hidden thigh sheath would raise questions. The recycler accepted the sheath without issue but balked at the blade. The strange voice continued to demand obedience. Tucking the blade in his sleeve, Malcon abandoned the cabin. The corridor was empty. The other passengers were far more compliant. Passing the servitor stairs, he tossed the blade down to the next level.