a glance at Ziva, Joule, and the other children. They huddled in a group in front of the cage, the Tsavitee poking at them every once in a while and laughing when the children cried or screamed.
Joule, Ziva, and another boy, slightly older than Joule, protected the front of the group, defiantly facing down their captors.
Ziva and Joule looked devastated as their eyes caught Kira's. Shame moved through their expressions, both blaming themselves for her predicament.
She winked at them before smiling. It didn't work, their faces becoming more morose, Ziva's eyes welling up with tears.
Guess her reassurance needed work.
Kira sighed and shifted on her knees trying to relieve some of the painful pressure. This had turned into a clusterfuck of a situation.
When she assured Liara she'd be able to save the Tuann, she might have been a little overconfident in her abilities.
Right now, she had two main sources to protect. The children and the adults. At least the adults were behind a forcefield. The Tsavitee would have to open it and chance being overwhelmed by those inside before they could use them as hostages. The children weren't as protected.
It made Kira's promise complicated.
If this had been ten years ago, before Rothchild, before Epiron, she wouldn't have questioned herself. That was before she'd used the first burst, before people had died while under her protection. Before her body started destroying itself.
The general had been right about her not using the burst, but not for the reasons he thought. The burst was a wave of energy her body generated when under duress, capable of annihilating everything around her, friend and foe.
It was a powerful weapon but came at a steep cost. Using it put her close to death. Last time she'd used it she ended up in a coma for years. Her body was recovering slowly, but she was nowhere near what she'd once been.
Her huff was sad. Poor children, their only chance of survival was a dysfunctional Tuann and a half-fried drone that may or may not come back online in time.
She inhaled sharply.
A screen formed above the platform, liquid ribbons of silver condensing to form a mirror.
A Tsavitee general peered out of it, his expression remote. He looked as young and ageless as the rest of his kind, his eyes red instead of black. The tip of his left horn was broken, the edge jagged and white.
Neron.
Interesting choice on Lothos’ part. Neron was high ranking, but he wasn't the highest. Not even in the top five, unless things had changed more than she knew.
This general had a history with her. She was the one who'd broken his horn, which was considered a bit of a status symbol in his culture. He held a wicked grudge about the whole thing, even though he'd been doing his utmost to kill her at the time.
"Lothos, why are you calling me?" he asked.
Lothos bowed his head and touched his fist to his chest. "There has been a development."
The red eyes narrowed. "What kind of development?"
Lothos stepped to the side, giving Neron a clear view of a kneeling Kira.
Neron went still. His expression hardened, becoming even more remote. At last, he relaxed into his chair. "Phoenix. Like the human myth, you have once again risen from your own ashes."
By then Lothos had backed up until he was standing behind Kira and her two captors.
Several seconds passed as the tension in the room built.
"Nothing to say to your old enemy?" Neron asked, his voice a silken menace.
Kira pretended to think. "Just a message for your masters. You can tell them I'm coming for them. I plan to keep the promise I made you the first time we met."
Hisses of displeasure came from those around her. The only ones who were silent were Neron, Lothos, and another slim figure Kira had just noticed.
The new general was young, barely out of his maturation phase from what Kira could tell.
Neron’s gaze shifted to Lothos and the two shared a long look. "You know what to do."
Lothos inclined his head. "Of course, consider it done."
Lothos looked at the two Tsavitee, his expression flat. "Kill her."
There were pleased chortles from the Tsavitee as those in the cages erupted. The Tsavitee dragged an unresisting Kira closer to the octagon, forcing her onto her knees where Neron would have a front row seat to her death.
His face was set in the same impassive lines she associated with the generals, no recognizable emotion rippling across its surface.
Kira held his gaze as the Tsavitee next