Critical Path

Gregor leaned away from the knife, looking at Augustus from the corner of his beady eye. “We want the same thing. What do I get in return for helping you?”

Augustus took a few deep breaths and smoothed his robe. He scraped his chair across the room and positioned it in front of Gregor. Not close enough to be in the filthy rogue’s reach. “I keep you out of the arena, and you work for me.”

“Not good enough,” Gregor said. “If I help you, I want to control the supply of root in Unity and have my own gang. If we’re taking over, we’ll do it properly.”

Augustus maintained eye contact while considering the suggestion.

With root fields being burned, it would become a precious commodity. Although the steps running around the left-hand side of the basin provided Unity a plentiful supply—for now.

Croatoans would die without it; humans would suffer due to the lack of any proper health care or medicines. If he controlled the root supply, he controlled the population of both species.

“You maintained discipline well on the farm,” Augustus said. “I could see you doing the same here after we’ve taken the town. You could act as my number two, making sure people are brought into line and the root supply is managed efficiently.”

“And when you get sick of me again? How do I know I can trust you?”

“I’ll have my guard remove those manacles right away if you agree to one condition.”

“Which is?”

“There’s a large croatoan living underground, close to here, called Hagellan. Find the exact location and ascertain what’s being planned behind my back. After you furnish me with those details, I want you to kill him.”

The gangster broke eye contact and slowly nodded. “I can do that. What about the others?”

“You mean the Jackson group?” Augustus flipped the desk back on all fours and perched on the edge. He had a flashback to Jackson hitting him in the face and stamping on his mask. “They will end up being collateral damage. Does that bother you? I know you were with them in one of their farm complexes. I need to know if they’re going to be an issue for you.”

Gregor relaxed against the wall and grunted. “Fuck ’em. I don’t care.”

Augustus smiled. It was proving easier to recruit him for the second time. Though he still didn’t trust him. Gregor would need to earn Augustus’ trust like everyone else. With pain and sacrifice.

“Fine,” Augustus said. “But you will need more than a blade to kill Hagellan.”

He opened a drawer in his desk and removed a wooden box. He flipped the lid and checked the contents inside. The two vials were still intact, full of chemicals that he had stolen while living on the mother ship.

The croatoan council had used these for executing only the most powerful of croatoans who committed a crime against their race, or in the case of Hagellan, wiping out the opposition who threatened his position within the hierarchy.

The older aliens, like Hagellan, were far too old and ancient to simply be killed by a flesh wound. Their physiology would easily cope and adapt, but a shot of this poison, or whatever it was, brought them a swift death.

The guard called from outside, “Do you need help in there?”

“Give me a minute.”

“What’s this?” Gregor asked. “A new kind of drug?”

“An accurate observation. You can’t take him out with conventional weapons. At least, not easily. He’s a pure-blood croatoan and thus extremely difficult to kill. He’ll be on top of you before you know it. We have to be sure he dies from your first attack.”

“What do you suggest?”

Augustus gently tapped the tube on the table and smiled. “They use this stuff for executions. When a pure blood steps out of line. An injection anywhere in the body is fatal.”

“Will covering a blade and stabbing him work?”

“Should do,” Augustus said. He fumbled in the drawer and placed a syringe on the table. “Or you can use this. Either way’s good with me. He doesn’t know who you are. You shouldn’t have a problem getting close. I have a disguise for you.”

“I’ll approach as a friend and kill him.”

Augustus smiled. “Et tu, Brute.”

“Pardon?”

He closed his desk drawer and sighed. “Just another incorrect quote from history. Don’t worry about it.”

Gregor wasn’t worried. He felt butterflies of excitement.

“Guard, I need your help,” Augustus said.

“Yes, Augustus?” the swarthy man said after entering the office.

“Do you still have that friend at the tavern? The one who was handy in the arena.”

“Yes. He’ll be there now,” the guard said.

“Do you think he’ll make an attempt on Aimee if we pay him enough?”

“He’d kill his own mother for a joint of beef and refined root.”

“Go and make the offer. I just hope he’s better than the ones I hired.”

“He’s never let us down before.”

“Good. Release Gregor from his manacles and speak with your friend.”

The guard did as he was told and left the office, locking the door behind him in order to keep Augustus’ cover up.

“Seems you’ve got quite a little network here,” Gregor said, rubbing his wrists and ankles.

“It’s called being a natural leader.” He handed over the box of syringes.