The Soul Eaters (The Thin Hex Line Book 1) by Gwyndolyn Russell (e reader txt) 📕

with multiple television sets at all expected loitering areas. The screens primarily acted as animated billboards for advertisements of high-quality goods that ranged from clothes, foods, weapons, armors, to adult oriented toys and activities. Television sets played the local news station and other channels.

The city was well lit with neon lights everywhere the eye could see. The only areas not reflecting the colors of the rainbow were the slums. The ‘red zone’ as the Federation would label it. It was an area of Solstice with the highest criminal activity. People lived in tents and sleeping bags, if not shacks made from debris and rubble. If you looked better off than the residents, they would gang up on you to steal the clothes off your back.

Shaped like a top, a frisbee styled section, several miles long at its peak diameter, served as the main area. The roads and buildings took a circular route with everything sectioned off like a perfect grid.

With plenty to do and see, Reaper allowed a full shore leave under the guidance of a buddy system. The last thing he wanted was someone being kidnapped or stabbed in the street. Torch was one of the first to leave to head shopping for spare parts and supplies.

Reaper intended to go in alone, but Jackal refused to let him, knowing exactly where he would be headed. The rest of the team joined them under the pretense of relaxing and stretching their legs.

The station was large enough to generate gravity on its own. It would be good for their bones and muscles to be under the influence of gravity.

They headed for Solstice, the most popular club on the station. First, they waded through the thick crowds of the dock and market, careful to avoid the shadier of the folk. Many of the screens and televisions they walked back were interrupted by an intrusive broadcast. Each time one of these broadcasts cropped up, people around were quick to either shut it off, or turn the volume up.

The first unauthorized broadcast that took a screen over caught their attention. They stopped in their tracks to watch the eight foot tall screen. A man in a full-faced gas mask was all the camera could see for a few moments. A dim light shined on his face and reflected several monitors off the lenses. His voice came in muffled through the filters of the mask.

This isn’t over. Not yet. The masked man said. We will not be wiped out by petty men who think they can run the galaxy on the backs of slaves. Listen to me, all of you, when I say that you are tricked into believing an illusion they conjured for you. You are not free. You are owned and controlled by those you look to for leadership. Your governors, senators, councilmembers, etc. merely pretend to care about you and your needs and your desires. Every day, hundreds of alpha hunters like you, me, and our brothers are sealed inside of walking coffins like criminals sentenced to death. Every day hundreds of us are beaten beyond repair. Starved and tortured. Used like cattle. Like you I never knew any different. I’ve gotten to see what the galaxy has to offer. All of the Black Wolves have and we are fighting for your chance to make a choice. Join us in the fight for our freedom.

The screen blinked to black. A message appeared in the middle, stating the system was being rebooted.

Jackal looked at Reaper, “That voice sounded familiar.”

“Pretty sure that was Stalker,” Reaper nodded.

“If they’re broadcasting like this, then things must be going well.” Jackal smiled.

“Who was that?” Sparrow asked.

“An old war buddy.” Reaper said.

“He’s an alpha, right? He’s part of those terrorists.”

Reaper raised a brow. “Why don’t we move on?”

When they made it to the club, they found a line wrapping around the street. Two body guards were in charge of letting people in, and the line wasn't budging.

Reaper skipped the line. Headed straight to the guards.

"Whoa. Hold up." He was a large man, almost eleven feet tall. A tight body suit, threatening to rip if he so much as flexed. Some armor from an old battle suit covered up his arm.

"Gotta wait in line…" his voice trailed off as he eyed Reaper with yellow, piercing eyes. "Reaper? Damn, it's been a while. I didn't recognize you."

"Karkra! How you been?" Reaper smiled.

They shook hands.

"Been good. Got a kid now."

"Thought you weren't the family type."

"Yeah, well, things change when you meet the right girl. You should meet them some time! I know she's been wanting to meet you."

"Maybe I can make some time."

"Heard you got promoted. Got your own ship now?" He looked the others over. "Jackal still with you, too?" He grinned.

Reaper nodded.

"Good looking people watching your ass."

"Have you seen Spectre?"

"If she don't want to be found, you won't see her. I did see her the other night."

"So she is on the station?"

"I don't know. She might be, but she never sticks around long. Venators are following her everywhere."

“Venators?”

“Strange bunch. Hard to miss with their pristine armor and red crosses. They tend to be a lot of trouble.”

"Let me know if you see her." Reaper frowned.

"Enjoy your stay, Captain!"

Inside, electronic music thumped loud enough to hear from a block away. Tall pub tables dotted the open space, walls lined with more private booths large enough to fit almost a dozen people. The center of the first floor was filled with a circular bar, packed full of drinks and mixes from around the galaxy. The second floor was open letting those up there view the bottom floor. A few smaller bars here and there with couches, lounges, and pub tables. The third floor was exclusive, the stairs were well guarded. Only the club owner and his personal guests were allowed here. Each floor was dotted with public dance floors, and small stages, some with tall, steel poles. Cages hung from the ceiling, each with a dancer. The largest lights hung from the