The Recusant by Greg Hanks

Author:Greg Hanks [Hanks, Greg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-23T16:00:00+00:00

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The clock on Farin’s desk clicked.

1:54 a.m.

Almost time to move. Rain was already in the Fillions’ room informing Maora of their escape. The Khor’Zon must have been relieved, yet unsure. Farin hoped this stupid plan of theirs succeeded, or else she’d be dealing with Peavey, Penelope, and everyone else who thought Maora had overstayed her welcome. Defending a Khor’Zon would create an unbridgeable rift between her and Penelope. Maora had to go. Farin knew why she cared. Coming to terms with herself over these last three months hadn’t been easy at times. But she was sure of it now. Death, life, morality. From “birth,” morality had always been vague, or simply inefficient. It shouldn’t be hard to see how murdering an innocent, albeit unwelcome, person would be considered evil. She needed to make blurred lines clear.

Enthusiasm faded when she walked out of her concrete room to seduce a man who could easily overpower her. While he wasn’t Preen’ch, Peavey was still a six-foot-five, unpredictable brute who’d been fighting for survival longer than her. The trudge was long and contemplative.

Peavey’s room was near the opening to the mess hall. One could see into the hall while standing at his threshold. She stood and knocked.

No answer.

A few minutes passed. Tension in her knuckles; she hadn’t released her fists. Where was he? At two in the morning? The whole plan plunged down her throat, sucked into a black hole at the base of her stomach. He couldn’t have known. She looked to the mess hall. Rain wasn’t supposed to bring Maora for another ten minutes. Perhaps Peavey was in Penelope’s room. Looking down the opposite way, she noticed light coming from the hallway’s bathroom. She crept to the end of the hall, her torso stiff and prepared.

The bathroom was empty. A single sink, one urinal, and one pale green stall. A spotless, tiled cubicle. She went to the mirror, listening. Only the soft hum of the mine’s internal vents and generators.

Footsteps came from the mess hall. Toward the bathroom.

Farin quietly slipped into the stall and locked it. She stood on the toilet and sat on the tank.

Rubber boots clomped into the bathroom. Through the crack in the stall, she saw flame-red hair and a military green t-shirt. Peavey. He was alone.

“Where the hell is she . . .” he muttered.

Farin swallowed. If Peavey opened the stall door, he wasn’t likely to kill her. But it wouldn’t be good. Then again, she wouldn’t mind a chance to knock him out. She hovered a hand over her mouth to silence her breathing.

Four more sets of boots entered the bathroom. There was a short pause, as if someone was observing the surroundings.

“You’re alone, Peavey.” Penelope’s voice was dry and lazy.

“Did we really have to meet in a bathroom?” The voice belonged to Castaigne Möller. He sounded incredibly impatient.

“We don’t have much time,” Peavey said, going for the door and shutting it. “Möller, thanks for coming. We don’t have many who we can trust these days.”

“Girl says you have something on the kutt?” Möller said, his interest levels muddy.

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