Excerpt From “Once A Hero, Always A Hero”

“Pardon? My hearing must be going because I could’ve sworn I just heard a Kavaliro suggest not doing something rash,” Viktor said, seeming legitimately confused. I supposed he had reason to be. My family history isn’t exactly full of people who lived calm, peaceful lives, minding their own business, and dying of old age in bed. Instead we’ve got generations – millenia if some tales can be believed – of guardian faeshir, elite guards, and soldiers, and many, many tales of those ancestors’ lives ending like my great-grandfather’s, one man with only a sword against over a hundred with blasters and armor. And my sister and I aren’t exactly exceptions. Ren was a fighter pilot, so of course she was insanely reckless – there is something wrong with people who enjoy getting shot at while only a tiny ship separates them from the vacuum of space. And me, well, the reason Karen and the kids had wanted me to retire so badly was because of how often my ego and bravado had outstripped my skill and gotten me hurt.

I smiled as I said, “I know it’s the last thing you ever thought you’d hear me say, but I don’t like this. A Dichidian working with Humans instead of … well, you know what they usually do with us.” I couldn’t bring myself to say it, especially in front of a man who had a mark on his arm that said “Property of Drochslem”.

“I do. Entirely too well,” Viktor answered, looking like he was about to cry. “It’s not unheard of for them to work with those they consider … cattle.” He’d had to force the last word out. “They bred the intelligence out of some species so they could help keep others in line. I never heard of them doing so with Humans, unsurprisingly considering …” He trailed off, looking away as he relit his pipe and fought for control more than I think he realized I noticed. Dichidians consider Human children a delicacy, the younger the better. I didn’t know what Vik saw during the six korvare he was Drochslem’s slave; I’m pretty sure I never want to know for sure. What I do know is that whenever he hears about bad things happening to pregnant women or infants he has to leave the room for a bit to compose himself, which tells me plenty.

After a moment he spoke again, sounding more frustrated than anything else. “It doesn’t make sense. Anyway, there are no authorities to call. The Tezarin are busy dealing with a much bigger problem on the other side of the galaxy; Zeiper is an independent world, so no one else’s military can officially help; and I’m not going to bother Darrien over one Dichidian. So, that leaves us.” A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “Besides, thanks to you, my reputation is on the line. The Slayer of Drochselm has to be able to deal with this vitollik, or people would have to accept that he’s no hero, just an ordinary man who did something bloody stupid and got lucky.”