by A. R. Knight
There’s a reason for this, though - if we’re going to be convincing as survivors who’ve scrounged in the Vimelia sewers, we can’t look refreshed and clean. So we’re properly filthy by the time Malo pushes open the surface hatch and we find ourselves once more in the chaotic wonder of Vimelia’s streets. Admittedly, I’m a fan of seeing the beige-white sky after so much time underground. Just feeling a true breeze and knowing that I’m not trapped inside something sparks energy and a smile.
“Don’t know how you manage to live this way,” I say to Viera as I stretch out my arms.
“It’s what we know,” Viera replies. “And it’s not all bad - hard to sneak up on somebody in a cave.”
Viera’s looking past us and we turn to see a pair of Whelk wielding what look like long, thin tools operating on a panel embedded in the side of the tall, shimmering green structure we’ve emerged next to.
Only the Whelk aren’t working anymore - they’re staring at us with slack faces. I give them a wave - we are, after all, supposed to be caught - and finally once of them reaches for a circular device in a pouch around its body. Pulls it out and begins yammering into it.
“Suppose we just wait now?” Viera says.
“That is the plan,” Malo replies, though he edges closer to me. He’s still got that staff with him and I’m glad for it.
The goal might be to get captured, but it’s not to get killed.
We don’t have to wait long, however, before the Sevora announce themselves through a whirring roar. Above us, a narrow shuttle makes its way between the buildings and, out of a pair of opening bay doors, a squad of twelve armored Flaum - bearing Nasiya’s emblems - drop down.
At first I think they’re all going to fall and crush themselves on the ground, but their boots flare up as the Flaum close and they wind up floating just above the surface.
I recognize the primary one - black with white tufts - as the one that greeted us when we first touched down on Vimelia. It’s obvious the Flaum hasn’t forgotten us either, as he doesn’t take any chances.
“Keep your limbs raised and clear,” the Flaum barks at us as his troops go through the whole surrounding song and dnace.
We’re relieved of our weapons in short order, then to my surprise, we’re walked out of the alleyway and along the main streets. Shuttles and other craft buzz above and alongside us, stopping ever-so-briefly to get a look at at the strange new species.
“Why aren’t we flying?” I manage to ask the Flaum after we’ve taken a few steps.
“You’re close enough to walk,” the Flaum replies.
“Close enough to what?”
“Nasiya demands no more chances,” the Flaum replies. “Even if you can’t be directly controlled, you will be influenced. You’re receiving your masters today,” the Flaum says, and there’s a hint of pride in his voice.
That’s when I realize that T’Oli wasn’t taking us to a random drop point - no, this close to the surface, T’Oli deposited us next to a Sevora Host Center. Probably not it’s actual name, but that’s what I’m choosing to call the massive, long and flat space the Flaum guide us to.
Unlike the other buildings, this one is a painted a sky-blue and, atop its flat surface, has a long series of winding spires that tilt towards each other and bind together around the center of the building.
“Unity,” the Flaum says as we approach the doors. “No matter what divisions exist among the Sevora people, these spaces are sacrosanct. All who enter here do so to enrich their lives, and those of their hosts. Be thankful that you are going to receive one of the greatest gifts the Sevora can give.”
“I can’t wait,” Viera mutters.
18 The Future Now
The way Lan says the words triggers a soft alarm in Sax’s mind - there’s caution there, wariness. Suspicion.
“You’re here to rescue us?” Bas says.
“To see if you’re still on the good side,” Gar replies. “Or if you’re with Evva.”
“What happened to her?” Sax heads off that conversation, twists it. No sense in revealing his allegiance this early, with this little information.
“Stole a shuttle, vanished with a prisoner.” Lan nods back towards the very shuttle they came in on. “Like this one. Any guesses as to who the prisoner was?”
“Avan.” Sax’s answer isn’t a guess.
Gar nods. “Never would’ve thought the commander would fall for a Sevora. But I guess losing your pair messes you up.”
“If I ever lost you,” Lan says to Gar. “I’d... probably be more relaxed.”
“You’d be bored, and you know it.”
“She doesn’t love Avan,” Sax hisses. “Evva would never.”
“Save it for the Amigga,” Lan says. “If you know anything about her, where she might be—”
“They haven’t found her yet?”
“Not yet,” Gar says. “But they will. She’s the top priority now. They’re taking resources away from the Sevora to find her.”
Why? Sax wants to ask this too, but he’s getting the feeling that Lan and Gar are doing more than just picking two lost Oratus up from a rogue station. Neither one seems relaxed, both keep their midclaws on their miners, as if expecting an ambush at any moment.
“What’s going to happen if we get on that shuttle?” Sax asks.
“If?” Lan replies.
“You heard me.”
“You’ll be debriefed. Asked about Evva. Prove that you’re not on her side, and I’m sure they’ll let you back in.”
“Who’s they?” Bas hisses.
Now Lan and Gar tense for a moment. Clear. The kind of movement Sax would expect to see from someone who hates their situation but who’s trying to pass it off as bearable. The kind of movement he’s seen from people who need rescuing.
“The Chorus sent Amigga to every cruiser,” Lan says. “To preserve the loyalty of the fleet.”
“They’ve interrogated everyone, even the Flaum and Whelk.” Gar adds. “It’s stupid, but once you’re clear, it’s over.”
Sax wonders what’ll happen when the Amigga find out he’s burned one of their number to an ashen crisp. He thought the Amigga on Cobalt had lost its mind, but there’s no guarantee any others would see it that way. Which means he and Bas could be going into a trap. But if they try to stay on the station, then... they couldn’t survive here either. Sax sees only one option: try to find Evva. Right back where they started.
“What if we say no?” Sax asks.
“No to what?”
“Getting on that shuttle with you. Going back to the Vincere.”
That stiffens their spines. Tenses their arms. Sax lets his teeth show just a bit. Feels Bas’ tail touch his, wrap its end around the tip of his own. She’s with him, whatever comes.
“That would be a dangerous choice,” Lan says finally. “They would order us to bring you in. By force.”
“Do you think you could?” Sax counters.
“Sax, I’ve always wanted a good brawl with you,” Gar rasps. “But not here, not like this.”
“Then let us walk away,” Sax replies. “Because I’m not getting on that shuttle. The Vincere isn’t what it was, and I’m not liking the new look.”
In a flash, Lan and Gar have their miners raised, pointed at Sax.
“Bas, don’t be like him,” Lan hisses. “You don’t have to pay for his choices.”
Bas laughs. “The thing about pairs, Lan, is that I do.”
It takes a long moment to pull the trigger on a friend, on someone that you’ve ridden with into the bleakest of fights, the deadliest of environments. Whose life you’ve saved and whose saved your life more times than either of you remember.
Sax and Bas use that moment - they both slide to the side, turning and flicking their tails at the miners Lan and Gar are holding. Batter the weapons away from the claws and send them clattering to the floor.
Gar springs at Sax, claws outstretched, mouth opening in a wide, hissing roar. Sax, body angled aside f
rom Gar, catches and throws the oncoming Oratus pass him. Feels a cut across his midsection as Gar’s talons go by.
Gar, though, smashes into the ground, rolls against the wide door leading back into the station and, digging grooves into the metal floor, turns himself around and launches back at Sax. The two Oratus are nearly the same size, and Sax can see the blind bloodlust has taken Gar’s senses.
It’s going to be a raw brawl.
So Sax jumps forward, meets Gar in mid-air and the two crash to the ground, rolling and snapping and clawing at each other. It’s a rush of instinct - a flash of claw here, glistening teeth biting there - and at the end of it, when Gar winds up on the bottom and kicks Sax off, both of bleeding. Both are grinning.
Ready for the next round.
“Never took you for a traitor,” Gar hisses as the two circle each other.
“Always took you for a bloodthirsty maniac,” Sax replies.
He wants to see how Bas is doing, help her, but looking away from Gar for even a second could prove fatal. All Sax has to go on are hissing sounds behind him, the crash and rumble as heavy bodies crash into things.
“You were right,” Gar laughs, and then the Oratus launches—
No. A feint.
Sax bites, though. Jerks forward to meet a leap that isn’t coming as Gar reaches behind his back and pulls another miner from his mask. Aims, fires. Sax has a split second to move and doesn’t clear the shot, which powers into his left leg.
It goes numb. Not the burn of a killing laser, but the blue ice of a stunning shot.
“You want us alive?”
“The Commander thinks you might know where Evva’s heading, what she’s after.” Gar raises the miner again as Sax keeps limping, trying to get towards a long rack of batteries. “Personally, Sax, I’d rather not kill you.”
“I’m not getting on that shuttle, Gar,” Sax hisses.
He gets close to the batteries - there in case a ship’s dead and needs a burst of energy - when Gar fires again. Hits Sax’s back, and now almost everything’s lost feeling. Sax falls forward, his head jutting against the rack.
“Don’t think you have a choice,” Gar says, though the Oratus doesn’t move closer.
A smart move. Keep your distance when you’ve only got a small miner and a big target. Stunning’s an imprecise science. Better to overdo it.
Gar raises the miner again. Aims for Sax’s head.
“Sleep well,” the Oratus hisses.
And Sax, with the flickering connection in his left foreclaw, throws a battery at Gar as the Oratus pulls the trigger.
A bright blue-white burst engulfs the universe for a quick moment and Sax’s eyes dazzle in the light. His mind goes fuzzy, and the only thing he does, for longer than he’d like, is lay there and try to reconnect with the rest of himself. That much super-charged electricity could have killed him, probably would have if Sax wasn’t an Oratus. If he didn’t have two hearts and layer after layer of thick muscle, protective scales, and a half-mask catching what it can of the blast.
Gar, though, fares worse. The battery, freed from its enclosure and nearly to the Oratus by the time the trigger depresses, catches Gar with the full force of its fury. The physical push of the blast has knocked the Oratus on his back, but what’s more evident is that Gar has no control of himself at all. His body is a wriggling mess as synapses run wild. The other weapons on him short circuit too - exploding or melting with a variety of pops and sparks, burning through the mask or melting into boiling puddles on the floor around him.
Not that Gar’s stuck there for long - Sax, whose head is lying on the floor staring at his distressed former friend, sees Lan dash into view. Sees her scoop Gar up and lope away from the broken remnants of his weaponry. She pauses for a moment, turns back and looks towards what Sax believes is Bas, though he can’t turn his head to look.
“You’re broken now,” Lan says. “You’re on the wrong side.”
“Did Evva ever do you wrong?” Bas hisses back. “Did she ever send us on a bad mission, or leave us to die? Why would she do this now, unless she had a reason?”
“Our job, the whole reason we live, is to support the Chorus. Do as they say, fight as they command.” Lan keeps backing towards the shuttle, Gar in her arms. “Turn your back on them, and you’ve denied your reason for being.”
“Your reason, maybe,” Bas says. “But not ours. Go back to your ship, Lan. Tell them what’s happened. We’ll be here when you return.”
“We won’t come back alone. You’ll be outnumbered. Captured and hauled before the Amigga as traitors. As dishonorable a death as you can imagine.”
“Fighting for what we believe? You have a strange notion of honor.” Bas appears in front of Sax, kneeling over him. Sniffs him quick, then reaches beneath Sax with her claws and lifts him up.
Lan and Gar get on the platform, which rises up into the belly of the shuttle. Bas doesn’t stay to watch, lugging Sax from the docking bay, towards the lifts out of the spoke.
“We’re going back to Plake,” Bas hisses as they move. “Her ship is our best shot at getting out of here now.”
Sax tries to agree, but his mouth doesn’t work. So instead he lies in his pair’s arms, and hopes the next fight won’t come too soon.
“Why should I help you again?” Plake says, this time on the Mobius.
Coorvin led Sax and Bas up onto the ship, where Agra-Red waited with its new heavy miner in hand. Apparently Plake didn’t want to be seen talking with the two most-wanted Oratus on Scrapper Station.
“Because of what we’ll bring you,” Bas says.
Sax is slowly recovering - he’s able to control his own breathing now, and he can use his muscles to keep himself upright, if not walk with any stability. Still, he tries to look strong, even as a bit of drool escapes his numb jaw and plops down to the floor.
Plake eyes it, then looks up at Bas, “What’s that, besides a ton of angry soldiers?”
“You said you hate the Oratus. The Amigga. That you want to see them beaten.”
“Lots of people wish for the impossible, doesn’t mean I’m trying to make it happen.”
Bas breaks into a quick story about Avan, the Sevora traitor that promised galaxy-changing secrets. About how Evva’s escaped with him, about how if Plake helps Sax and Bas reunite with their commander, they might be able to... do something.
“You don’t even know these secrets?” Plake laughs. “Avan might be playing all of you. Another Sevora trick to get deep into our society.”
“The Sevora was sincere,” but even Bas can’t put much force in this one.
“Look, Oratus. I don’t like you. I’m not going to risk my crew and my own life on your crazy idea, which may be nothing!” Plake nods at Agra-Red. “Get them out of here. With any luck, the military will take care of them and leave us alone.”
“Mistake,” Sax manages to rasp. Weak, but it’s there.
“Oh, he can talk now?” Plake shakes her head. “Too late. Leave.”
Agra-Red doesn’t give Sax another chance to argue. Forces the both of them out of the ship, keeping its miner trained on them the entire way. Then, once the two Oratus are on the floor, the ramp raises up and seals them out.
“That didn’t go as I hoped,” Bas says as she pulls Sax out of the bay. “There’s only one other place we can try.”
The Sisters let them in, let them up the lift back to their beautiful garden. Now, though, the Oratus frigate wipes through the viewing window every so often, spoiling any sense of peace. Rather than taking the Oratus to their building, the Sisters, with Eneks and a couple of armed Flaum that Sax recognizes from the casino, greet the Oratus immediately as they come off the lift.
“Your circumstances aren’t good,” L’Reneo says.
“Not good at all,” N’Ollene adds.
“That’s why we’re here,” Bas says. “For help.”
And by the way the Sisters eyestalks swivel, by the rapid clatter of their Ooblot forms, Sax knows they�
�re in trouble.
Getting your feeling back is like waking from a dream - gradually, reality filters in. Your feet get their traction, your talons passing along the usual edge as they dig small cuts into the floor. Your vents open wider and wider, and you can actually feel the air rejuvenate your muscles. Your tail twitches when you want it to, and your four claws start to open and close on command instead of by nervous whims.
Sax gets all this back in time to hear the Sisters laugh in Bas’ face, in time to see the Flaum guards pull their miners up while the lift doors behind them shut.
“The Vincere’s offered good terms for you,” L’Renee says. “We hold you here, they come get you, and Scrapper Station gets forgotten about for a long, long time. Know what it’s worth not having to deal with Vincere inspections?”
“They wouldn’t,” N’Ollene says. “They’re not one of us. Not normal people.”
Sax squeezes Bas’ shoulder slightly, lets her know that he’s back, most of the way. She keeps holding him, though, because if there’s one thing to keep hidden, it’s an Oratus surprise.
“So if you’d follow our friends to the airlock, there, we’ll be keeping you safe and sound till they come pick you up,” L’Renee says.
“A nice ride home,” N’Ollene adds.
The Flaum gesture with their miners and Bas pulls them both along. Across the garden towards the airlock. Every step brings another iota of feeling back, every step makes Sax a deadlier weapon.
The Sisters order the two Oratus into the airlock, with Eneks again stepping up to open the door. It shunts ajar, leaving a gleaming cream tube waiting. Stepping into that tube means death, a slow and awful one once the Amigga find neither Sax nor Bas knows where Evva is. And death by torture, death in captivity is not one Sax will stand.
He pushes off of Bas, sending her flying to the side and uses the momentum to pivot and leap at the first Flaum. The furry guard fires, but the shot’s hopelessly wide of the crouched, scrambling Oratus.
The Flaum doesn’t get a second one.
