by Drew Avera
On the other end of the call, Belwa yelled, the rage thick enough Crase could almost smell it, but smart money was to take Crase's new offer, regardless of how much he would ask. Crase planned on ensuring Belwa would succumb to his desires like all of his investors eventually did. You don’t run a successful business by giving into your competition or allowing an investor to take advantage of you.
"Triple it," Crase said, meeting the investor's snark with his own. The other man might have had the money to get away with murder, but Crase had the body count to show how it was done. Murder was just another means to an end, a disassociation from societal influence in order to reap financial gain. Belwa would find that truth to be a dire inconvenience if he didn’t comply with Crase’s demands. That was a sure bet if there ever was.
Crase's ability to compartmentalize it in such a way probably said more about how disconnected he was from empathy than anything else. Perhaps that's why my methods are so effective, he thought, Life means nothing to me. His sneer grew wider with the revelation.
The voice on the other line grew quiet, but the investor's breathing was heavy. Crase knew exactly how the other man would cave to his demands. Without giving the man the opportunity to concede, Crase said, "I expect full payment before first light. Send your men to my ship to collect the cargo."
Crase closed the connection, not waiting for a response. He didn't need the response to know the investor would pay whatever Crase demanded. He also knew he didn't need the money, at least not in the way most people needed it. What he needed was a way off world and a few months to recollect himself. The constant droning of running an underground business was taking its toll on the aging man. He wondered how much longer the ghost of who he was would continue to haunt his business. They said piracy was dead, but the heart still beat in his chest. No need to give up the ghost just yet.
Dust was settling from a heavy wind when Neular stepped out of the bar. Crase turned to look at his assistant, squinting his eyes as the wind pelted his face with grit from the coming storm. Farax was unpleasant at the best of times, but this time of year Crase hated it; the weather was never constant, much like his life. Still, the weather demanded his respect. If too much dirt and dust kicked up in the torrent of wind, then it could make taking off unnecessarily dangerous. Not only did the heavy wind wreak havoc on the flight controls, but the dust threatened to stall small thrusters. All it would take would be a loss of lift, and his heavy ship would come crashing to the ground. Death wasn't something he was interested in experiencing, despite the fact he stared at the possibility of being killed with every shipment he made. Maybe it was cockiness that made him continue with the line of work he had chosen. It wasn't stupidity, he thought as he walked out amongst the foot traffic of the tiny town. Nuelar followed quietly behind him.
The two men turned left at the end of the street, away from the prying eyes of the bustling populace. At the end of the dirt path was a transport, hidden in plain sight, obscured by stolen technology Crase routinely used to escape and evade. The two-person craft was instrumental in his success. The larger ships used by others in the pirate trade made them more detectable, more prone to boarding parties. Not the tiny transport he and Neular boarded now.
“The investor will send his men for the shipment before daybreak. I need you to keep an ear to the ground and let me know if you suspect anything. I have my suspicions that Belwa was behind the mole,” Crase said as he rummaged through a dark, leather bag.
Neular nodded his head in affirmation, gripped his employer’s wrist for Crase’s attention, and spoke in the muffled speech of a tongue-less man. “I aghee,” he said, his mouth unable to form the word “agree”.
Crase nodded before returning his attention to the bag. He stood straight, his head not far from the ceiling of the transport, and handed Neular an energy weapon. “If you run into trouble, shoot your way out and get back here. We’ll blow the shipment if things go south. Otherwise, here’s hoping my paranoia isn’t grounded in reality.” He meant the words to be a joke, but Neular only nodded as his dark gray hand gripped the handle of the weapon.
Crase watched as the only man he ever truly trusted left the tiny transport and headed for the main ship they used for business. The Lament was only the latest name added to the list aliases his ship was known by. Somewhere, deep in his mind, he remembered the vessel’s true name, but remembering such things was a haunting endeavor. His mind drifted towards the refugees he’d captured five days prior, what their future under Belwa’s control might look like. It was a dark thought, but it evaporated as quickly as it formed. With thoughts of the shipment, and the soon-to-die people on board, his mind drifted to the fortune that shipment was worth to his investor. And then he thought of how sweet vengeance would taste if he killed everyone onboard if Belwa did turn on him. That thought darkly turned to one of hopefulness.
4
Anki
Anki adjusted the sleeves of her coveralls as Brendle stepped onto the bridge. The cool rush of air circulating from the vents did little to mitigate the nervous sweat forming on her brow. She dabbed it away, frustrated at how poorly she felt the intense course in piloting the Replicade was going. When it came to flying, she made a better passenger, but everyone’s expectations were gnawing at her hungrily. She knew what they wanted, but she also knew she wasn’t confident that she could deliver. It was a lot to learn over an intensely short period of time. Of course, the guys aren’t listening to my side of the story, she thought as she fought the irritation growing in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t irritation as much as it was nerves mingling with fear, she knew, but it was best to keep the higher ground when dealing with those kinds of emotions. Otherwise I might give in to them.
"What are we doing here?" She asked as Brendle drew closer. She could feel his warmth radiating onto her, even though he wasn’t quite touching her. She liked the proximity at any other time, but her stress was building and the beginnings of claustrophobia threatened to take root. She swallowed it down and took a deep breath.
"I don't know," Brendle replied. She could see him smiling at her through the reflection in the monitors in front of her. It was another mischievous smile, but the playful one she liked, not the one he used when they sparred and he wanted to make her think he was going for her legs when he intended to try and pin her arm behind her instead. If she was honest, she liked both. Besides, she didn’t have the heart to tell him she could read his face and tell when he was trying to mislead her. That would take all of the fun out of it for me.
Anki stood on the bridge of the Replicade, staring at the screens and marveling at the technology. She’d never flown in this class of ship before and her heart thudded in her chest nervously, despite the fact her boyfriend stood behind her, hands on her shoulders, reassuring her with his company. She was a little slow at learning the spacecraft. Most Luthian ships were not this advanced technologically and the drive system made the maneuverability something far more agile than any ship she had flown before, but mostly she struggled with the idea of pretending to captain the vessel as they made their way to an inhospitable world. But it is nice to know I’m not alone, she thought as Brendle held her close.
"I don't know if I can do this," Anki said, for perhaps the tenth time in as many minutes. She had urged him to reconsider in the bedroom; that she did not want to mess up the mission and land amidst hostilities. Even if her vernacular was correct, she had seen enough mishaps on Luthia to know how far south a flawed mission could go. Flying in the dark was easy; there was enough space to not hit anything, but landing on a rocky planet and sounding like you knew what you were doing was something else entirely. She had seen how the Replicade responded in lower atmosphere. It bucked under the lightest touch and that had been under Brendle’s more skillful hand. She could just imagine the fiery destruction of the warship as it plummeted uncontrollably into some inhabited town. Deis said Farax was nothing but badlands, but she wasn’t so sure. With all the stories she hea
rd, Anki was certain there was more to Farax than what they wanted her to believe. Even the topographical map of the area showed more than just badlands, at least that which was visible through the gaseous atmosphere.
"Of course you can," Brendle replied. "In all the time I've known you, there's nothing you can't do." Brendle brushed a tuft of hair behind her ear and rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she looked up at him. He always says the right thing, she thought. She readjusted her hair and smirked.
"Perhaps you think too much of me," she replied, her eyes narrowed questioningly. "Do you really think I can pretend to be the captain of the Replicade?" Pretending was easy; successfully pulling off a ruse was another thing entirely.
He laughed softly and said, "I've been pretending to be the captain of this ship for more than four months now." It was truth born in tragedy. Looking back, he’s done a good job so far, she thought. Deis and Malikea would agree, she was sure. She still didn’t understand why the burden of taking the helm was falling to her, though. She had the sneaky suspicion the guys in her company were toying with her because they didn’t want the responsibility. In bed, Brendle assured her that was not the case, but he revealed little else. If that wasn’t his intention, then maybe it was Deis or Malikea’s idea to toss her under the stress of faux leadership. If so, then why would Brendle buy into it? Did she trust him? It took time, but the answer to that question was yes. If anything, she was struggling to trust herself. Even with the AI programmed for piloting the Replicade, she still had to communicate her ship’s intentions to Farax, never mind the fact none of them knew how the locals would respond to a survivor of Luthia being in Greshian territory, much less the growing hostilities towards actual Greshians on Farax. She wondered if that maltreatment extended towards Lechuns as well. If so, then no wonder I was left to endure this. Maybe that’s what I’m so afraid of.
“All you have to do is trust the AI to land the ship while you communicate with the controller. I’ll be on the bridge, out of view from the controllers on Farax, but close enough in case you need me. Come on, you were a marine for the Luthian Navy, you’ve got this,” Brendle said, breaking the silent thoughts in her head. His grin was one lending itself to encouragement this time.
She looked up at him, her hands finding their way onto his chest. “Were? I’ll have you know, I never stopped being a marine,” she corrected, pinching him playfully. “I’m just a misplaced marine, now.”
Brendle smiled back at her, rubbing away the tinge of pain she’d inflicted, and brought his lips to hers. “See? That’s the kind of tenacity I know will make you succeed at this.”
Anki smiled, turning to face the monitor again. “So, all I have to do is press the comm switch, dial it in for Farax, and say ‘This is Captain Paro of the Replicade requesting permission to land in Sector 112, Farax. Statement of purpose is for resupply and to contract repairs for my ship’.”
“Pretty much, but it is Farax, Sector 112,” Brendle said.
“And you’re sure that’s it?”
“More or less.” He thumbed through a few screens on the monitor, leaving Anki to wonder if there was something he was worrying about but he didn’t want to say it out loud. It made her worry too, about what she might not know and how that could negatively affect them.
“And what if they want to board us?” Anki looked at him longingly. This was never part of the discussion and she could see it in his eyes as he seemed to struggle with finding the right answer. That’s it, she thought, he hadn’t thought of the fact they could board the ship.
“Then we let them board,” Deis said, walking onto the bridge. “Malikea and I have a lot of experience stowing away on this ship. We once hid for six days while law enforcement combed every nook and cranny of the Replicade, but they never found us. They finally gave up and we took off as fast as we could. It was rather frightening, but we made it out all right. But to answer your question, there’s plenty of room in some of the holds for Brendle if necessary, I assure you.”
“See? That was easy,” Brendle smiled.
“Uh-huh, you just take credit for Deis’ idea and play the hero why don’t you?”
Deis stepped closer to them. “I hate to bring this up now, but I do have some cause for concern,” he said.
Anki’s heart sank. Deis was usually the more confident member of the crew. If he is worried, then it must be something serious.
“What’s wrong?” Brendle asked, the playfulness decayed from his voice and the mask of security faded from his face.
“It’s not what you think,” Deis said. “But Malikea has been acting strange since we discussed our plans to land on Farax. I keep asking him if something is wrong, but it just pushes him further away.”
“Is there anything about Farax, or someone on Farax, that might be the problem?” Anki asked. Malikea hardly ever gave the cold shoulder, so if he was hiding something, the only person who was in a position to know was Deis.
“I think the piracy running rampant on that world has him nervous. I’m nervous about it too, but I can’t help thinking there is something else that he is hiding from me.”
“What does he say when you bring it up?” Brendle asked.
Deis shrugged. “It’s different each time. Sometimes he will change the subject, other times he gets upset and silent. He isn’t the kind of person to be confrontational; he wears it on his heart when he is upset. He thinks people don’t see it, but I’ve been with that man since we were introduced as betrothed. It wasn’t easy at first, but we learned what made each other tick. I’m upset that I can’t seem to figure this out, though.” Deis wiped the beginnings of a tear from his eye and took a deep breath. Anki could tell he didn’t want to be emotional, but he was venting his frustration to the only other people on the ship.
“Would you like for me to talk to him?” Brendle asked.
Deis looked up nervously as he and Anki answered together, “No.”
Brendle looked confused for a moment.
“It’s a nice gesture, but I don’t think that is what Deis and Malikea need right now,” Anki said as she ran her hand across Brendle’s back. “I think Deis wants to mend this one his own.”
She looked at Deis and he nodded. She could see him pleading thanks with his eyes, as he probably assumed the worst thing possible would be for Malikea to think they were talking about him behind his back. “Yes, I want to be the one to repair what seems to be broken.”
“I hate to say it, but the best thing for now is to give him space. Just try to pretend everything is normal so he doesn’t feel as on guard about it around you. Maybe, if he feels at ease, he will open up about it on his own,” Anki suggested.
“Do you think so?” Deis asked, the skepticism heavy in his voice.
“I think everyone is different and, if bringing it up brings too much anxiety between you two, maybe not bringing it up can help.”
Deis nodded, a smile forming on his lips. “I think I understand. I guess I’ll mull it over and see you two in the morning. Good night.”
Anki watched as Deis stepped out of the bridge and back towards his quarters. She felt bad for whatever he and Malikea were going through, but she was confident they would work it out. She could see how much they loved one another. That kind of commitment inspired her to carry on, especially after enduring such a loss.
“Do you really think that will work?” Brendle asked.
Anki smiled. “I hope so.”
5
Malikea
The room was cramped, like most on ships like the Replicade, but it was the home Malikea shared with his husband Deis. Knowing where their home was now heading made him anxious, but that was to be expected for anyone who knew what kind of past Deis and Malikea were running from. Farax, other than being in Greshian territory, was not the kind of place to be, regardless of whether you could take care of yourself. It was a world that could not be broken of its wild spirit, and that spirit flowed in the veins of the unrighteous with as much
indignity as it could muster. In short, Farax was a deathtrap to anyone who did not belong there, and belonging was something Malikea never truly felt on any world he had ever stepped on. But that was not the worst of it in Malikea’s mind. For people like Deis and Malikea, Farax was a place where your past wasn't the only thing that could come back to haunt you.
"I can't believe you told him to go there," Malikea said as he disrobed. His dark gray skin almost disappeared from view in the dimly lit room. The sheen of his crimson gown was the only thing that reflected what little light was around them as it dropped onto the foot of the bed where Deis lay; that and the yellow of his eyes.
"I didn't have any choice," Deis said. "You heard him, the ship needs supplies and we aren't in the same condition we were before we picked up Brendle and Anki from that moon. Maybe if we hadn't intervened then we would be all right, but seeing things how they are, it's the right decision."
Malikea looked coldly into his husband's eyes as he lay next to him, the soft pillow collapsing slightly under the weight of his head. They didn't hold any contempt; they were full of worry. Deis was the fighter and Malikea was the worrier, the one who always felt he needed to pick up the pieces and clean the wounds from whatever fight they were up against. That was their relationship, and he accepted it for what it was, but it didn't make rationalizing an irrational decision any easier. What life could have been before we found ourselves here, Malikea thought.
Deis took a deep breath and caressed Malikea's face. "Everything will turn out," he said. Malikea wondered if he purposefully left out the words "all right" or if it was a coincidence that fell in step with his own line of thinking. His thoughts were interrupted by a kiss from Deis, but he wasn't interested in returning the affection. There was too much on his mind and he knew the anxiety would build the closer they got to Farax. "I'm serious. There’s no need to worry," Deis finished.
