Alec lay back on the old hospital table and felt it creak under his weight. He stood up, and sure enough, three of four legs were crumpled like they had a knee in the table leg. "It's the fabric. Like me, it's not the same as one would regularly expect."

  The doctor looked at him very unconvinced, but the look didn't carry accusation, maybe curiosity. The door burst open again, and the Soldier mechaframe hulked through the door. He was still in the middle of a radio conversation. "Looks like Doc Death's dealt well with him, he's standing. Can you walk?" The last was directed at Alec with the talk button released. Alec nodded, looking between the doctor and the soldier. Had he called him Doc Death? Alec thanked the impact suit once again. Should he ever lose it and face a wound, a man named Doc Death would be the last he hoped to be taken to.

  "He can move." The radio button was pressed again. "They want you to get to the mansion. The baron is wanting the news in person. Your vehicle has stopped spouting smoke, but one of my engineers lies unconscious. Seems it has a nasty sting for all, but its owner." Quip must have released a taser shot as a warning. The engineer was lucky; Alec didn't consider him a threat. The passive defence system was deadly at full power.

  "The vehicle is my home, and like me, it is impossible to kill. I've had it modded to stay protected when I'm not there." He could tell the mechanic understood. When these hybrid soldiers of the baronhood had to charge, they would also sleep. During that time, they were vulnerable and would need protection from their fellow soldiers. It led to a deep unity amongst these more elite soldiers. It must have done the same with Quip and Alec, for he felt relieved that his vehicle was ok and untouched.

  "Doc." Alec tipped his hat to the man who still stood skeptically looking at Alec. Hearing of a direct relationship to the baron of this planet, the man's expression changed. Alec would expect fear or admiration from a baronhood citizen, but on this old doctor's face was a look of disgusted defiance. This man was no friend of the empire. The doctor did not return any formal reply but nodded instead and stepped forward to open his door. He was eager for the apparently two baronhood soldiers to stop out the door.

  The doctor looked at Alec talking in his invulnerable frame. There was a look of regret as the medical man they called death compared Alec to his soldier compatriot. It was an "if only" look, if this man were no friend of the empire, and that look intrigued Alec. As a test, he quickly used Teretha hand speak to signal "friend" to the man. "No," the doc handed back. Alec was taken aback; he clearly knew the speech, and only a friend of a Teretha could know that.

  The walk back to Quip was much slower than the run here, and Alec's eyes were open this time. The first thing he saw as they exited the small wooden house the doctor worked from was the looming perimeter wall itself. Taking a turn out the back, they walked past a large structure where the sounds of drinking and music drifted. The local watering hole, Alec would check here later. He struck gold prospecting for information time after time in places such as this saloon. The liquids, harsher and cheaper than the grape-berry wine the wealthy drank, functioned to loosen lips in short order. As they took down the boardwalk past the libation hall, Alec posed a question to the guard. "Doc Death? Why do you call him that?"

  The guard got a nasty look on his face, but one of admiration. "Used to have a blooderlover doc here. Always out there helpin' callin' it his duty." The soldier spat. "We put a quick end to her." The guard indicated a large dead tree near a fountain that no longer worked. Alec could see marks where ropes or chains had been slung over it. Townsfolk here gave the soldier and Alec a wide berth, their eyes filled with fearful apprehension. The children would cease playing and look to hide behind their mothers' skirts. There were no boys above the age of fifteen here, and the number of soldiers this baron had made sense. He must have a very aggressive recruiting technique.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Alec brought his thoughts back, "and this one, the title?"

  "That's a man loyal to the baron; he still goes out to the Teretha." The man spat again. Baronhood propaganda must have been force-fed to the boys of this town to create this much hate. "But when he visits the blooders, the blooders don't make it. Baron made it law that a real doctor, not their ooga booga men, gotta deliver the kids so they could be tagged and planned for in the mine. Baron takes them when they are done nursing to be raised at the house."

  Alec looked over his shoulder. They had crossed another dusty street as two personal riders drove past them. The mansion now looked like a monster's castle looming over the people it oppressed. How many children were up there?

  "Anyways, since Doc Death's been here, there's been a lot of still births with the Teretha. The blooder mom's too." He pointed over the fence as they turned right and saw the gate and Quip. Beyond the wall, a dark, wet smoke rose from the Teretha camp. "Where he's been gets marked with a cremation ceremony." The guard actually let out a small laugh at this. Alec wanted to pull out his spine.

  "So where the doc goes, death follows?"

  "Doc Death." The mechanic said admiringly. "Grumpy old coot, though, I'm glad we deal with medical up at the house."

  They were nearly to Quip. The Aamaranth dust on this planet must somehow be making its way past Alec's internal air filters. His brain could not stop running at a full throttle, and nothing here seemed to make any sense. Doc Death spoke handspeak. Doc Death was very clearly smart; he knew who and what Alec was, as well as the telltale signs of battle that Alec was missing. Who was this man?

  "Baron's waiting for you at the house. In my experience, it's best not to keep him waiting." The man stopped at a distance from Quip with five other altered humans like him. Alec climbed into Quip and fired it up. As he kicked up dust, easing Quip forward, the vehicle kicked up a couple of performative whiffs of smoke. Alec patted the dashboard and then turned his thoughts to what tale he would spin to the baron. Unlike the soldiers who were ignorant of hate, propaganda had its drawbacks; the baron himself had that glimmer of calculated hate. He was the type who not only embraced it but also gained joy from it. Folks like that were often on guard for anyone who might be playing with a hidden deck.

  Alec stopped in his previous parking spot, aligning quip for a quick getaway and then exited through the back. On his way, he opened the smuggling stash and took out a fresh vial of Aamaranth. A part of his performance had been drawn from true exhaustion; he had been practically out since the battle with the eight. He resisted the temptation to grab one of the five vials the Madam Zelsim had given him. Pure Aamaranth gave Alec a rush like no other, but it also clouded his judgment like the powders the most depraved of the barons became addicted to. It gave him a somewhat justified bravado, as when combined with his impact suit, he became a god drunk on its own power.

  The click and hiss of the release of a regular vial was enough to bring clarity to Alec's mind. He knew that in this upcoming game with the baron, if his bluff was caught, his life would be forfeit. He breathed again and patted Quip. "Keep ready." Alecs' voice was soft. Before he opened the door, he turned on a booted heel. He grabbed one vial of the pure Aamaranth and tucked it in a tactical pocket. Didn't hurt to be prepared; if any place a god would be required, it would be escaping this armed mansion in one piece, should its master turn on him.

  Alec stepped out into the early morning. Already, the drunken musical party was in full swing, even as the Teretha were cleaning up from the night before. This place never slept; that would be another problem to tackle later. First things first, it was time to play a very dangerous game of wits.