by Viki Storm
“Proceed?” I say. “You said that you had a plan. Did you plan on sharing it with me at some point?”
“I thought I already did,” she says. “Blow up the motherfuckers.”
“So we’re back to that,” I say. “A successful plan usually consists of something more substantial than ‘blow up the motherfuckers.’”
“Look,” she says. She turns in her seat toward me, and I get the idea that just for a moment, I’m getting a glimpse at the real Lia—the one that’s behind the hateful exterior. She’s got a shell just as tough as any Rulmek. “I’ll admit that once I got used to it, I liked your idea of beaming the program virus into their navigation system. I could picture them panicking and waiting helplessly as they speed towards the Kraxx settlement. But the flaw in your plan is that there’s no guarantee. Sure, the Kraxx would probably shoot down the ship. Then the Rulmek would probably return fire, and they would probably end up killing each other. If we go on board—which, by the way, I’m not exactly excited about—then at least we can be sure.”
“Be sure of what? How do you propose that we ‘blow up the motherfuckers,’ as you put it? I just checked every inch of your body—there’s no way you have explosives stashed away.” And that had been a delicious exercise, my hands roaming her body, the exploration coming dangerously close to worship. I never would have been able to restrain myself had she been fully fertile—as it was, I had great difficulty keeping my search of her body professional and practical. I wasn’t looking for a way to coerce her into letting me grope her—I needed to be sure she wasn’t hiding anything from me. I wasn’t lying when I told her that this sort of a mission requires complete trust between warriors.
“No,” she says. “But I can do some creative rewiring of their electric systems and use the power to detonate their fuel crystals.”
“Hmm,” I say. That is a good plan—assuming she can pull it off. My job is to keep the Rulmek away from Lekyo Prime, but simply rerouting their ship was no guarantee. She’s right—half a year from now, the Rulmek and Kraxx could join forces and come to Lekyo Prime, eager for revenge. This way’s better, albeit more risky. Boarding the warship, finding our way to the engine rooms, relying on her to do the wiring. All that, plus getting out undetected and flying away before the whole thing blows. That’s a lot of things that have to go our way. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”
The scanner beeps, and I pull up the schematics for the AXB-550, newly modified from the recent scans and the heat signatures. There’s a lot of heat where I expected the engines and fuel supply to be, but before I can say anything, Lia slides out one long finger to tap the screen. “That’s it,” she says. “They run on modified fluoraxium crystals. The core reactor is right here—” she taps again a different room on the display screen “—and it generates the energy that gets funneled out here and here.” She points out a branching network of ducts.
“How do you know all this?” I ask.
“Don’t you make it your business to know all you can about your enemy?”
I say nothing. She has a point, but her detailed mechanical knowledge of the ship is eerie. Or maybe I just don’t expect a human female to have any measure of technical competence. Maybe she’s right and I do just see them as breeding vessels—even if I myself never owned one. The perception of human females just seeped into me through the years of Zalaryn culture. I look at her, then shake my head. No, it’s because I still don’t trust her—even less after my chip went missing. This was supposed to be an easy job, and now everything’s going wrong. She knows a little too much about the Rulmek for me to be comfortable with.
“Alright,” I say after she’s done explaining her plan. At this point, I don’t have much of a choice but to trust her. “Let’s go.”
- - -
Fourteen minutes. I sync the mission time on my comm panel and release the latching mechanism. It’s not much more than a magnet that will hold my stealthcraft to the side of the Rulmek warship the way a bloated tick attaches itself to the mangy hide of a beast. Even stealthed, I’m sure the Rulmek will notice us sooner than later. Thirty minutes maximum, which is why I set my timer for fourteen.
“There,” Lia says, pointing to a small panel in the side of the warship. I consult my schematics, and she’s right, that’s the location of a small exhaust port, used only when the ship is in orbit.
I slap my helmet on and seal the valves. I fucking hate going out into the Void. It’s disorienting, and if I’m being honest—absolutely terrifying. One slip of the fingers and you’re drifting until you run out of oxygen or freeze or probably both, slowly. We’ll be tethered to the stealthcraft with flexible alloy cables, but that does nothing to calm the violent nest of serpentoids that seem to have taken up roost in my stomach.
Lia’s already suited up and latching her cables to the hooks on the exit bay. There’s a mad sparkle in her eye—I recognize it from the battlefield. It’s the look that the real crazy ones have in their eyes. The warriors who like fighting not because it’s a test of skill or a fulfillment of duty but because they like the smell of the blood and the pitch of the screams.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say, thinking that I’m doing a pretty good job concealing the fact that I’m about one bump away from filling up my helmet with the contents of my stomach. I press the button and open the hatch to the exit bay. Before I can even take in the surroundings, Lia’s jumped out into the empty void, floating toward the Rulmek warship like a leaf in a gentle summer wind. She has an odd grace that’s completely at odds with her coarse demeanor. Even in the bulky insulated space suit, she twirls and moves like a dancer. Though her bravery shames me, I’m glad that she went first so I can watch her as she closes the twenty-five-meter gap between our ship and the exhaust hatch. Her earlier words echo in my head: you want to live forever?
I jump off the exit bay, hoping against hope that when we return, the stealthcraft will still be here.
I make my way to the exhaust hatch, flailing my arms like some demented prayer-singer in the throes of religious enlightenment. Lia’s pried open the hatch and is already squirming inside. I had my doubts that I would fit, but as I get closer, I see that the opening is actually quite wide. I dive through and follow Lia. She stops to peel away the membrane that seals off the duct from the rest of the ship, and I wait, listening to the blood pulse in my ears. I can feel it when the membrane is breached. The atmospheric pressure is trying to equalize, and we’re pulled through the duct in a tumbling blur. I feel my limbs intertwine with hers, my chest pressed against what I think is her back. It would be erotic if not for the thirty kilos of insulated space suit between us.
Lia snaps the membrane back in place, then fixes the metal cover on top. We both stand up.
We’re in.
I take off my helmet and gloves and attach them to my belt. I check my comm panel.
Eleven minutes.
“That was the longest three minutes of my life,” I say.
“Yeah?” she asks. “Get ready for the next eleven to be even worse.” I bring up the schematics on my comm panel, but Lia doesn’t seem to need it. She knows exactly where she’s going, like she’s been here before. Again, I can’t shake the feeling that she has an almost eerie level of familiarity with the Rulmek ship. But I’m in deep now, and all I can do is hope that she’s not leading me right into slaughter.
We weave through the machinery that keeps this ship up and running. There are water recycling tanks, waste collection bins, electricity converters and plenty of other contraptions whose function I can only guess at. It’s hot down here, so I can only assume there’s no computer network server or delicate instrumentation. We’re not in the ship’s brain; we’re in its bowels.
A door opens. Even amid the humming machines and grinding gears, I hear it loud as a slap. Lia turns around and looks at me, her eyes wide with fear. All the suspicions about her I’ve held onto instantly vanish.
“Hey!” one of the Rulmek says an
d points in our direction. There are two of them, and even at this distance, I’m revolted by the sight. The Rulmek are a short and stout race, shoulder span almost as wide as their height. As I explained to Lia earlier, their skin has the thickened, scaled appearance of the bottom of a chapped and battered foot. It’s white and wrinkled and most penetrative weaponry either bounces off or slowly sinks inside. You can’t stab them; it’s like sticking a pin through the wedge of dead skin on your big toe—your blade had better be long if you want to get to their vitals. You can’t shoot them with a projectile because the layer will reflect it. You can’t use lasers because that layer of skin absorbs the heat and diffuses it evenly in a way that does not cause much cellular damage. The anankah works well, but only on full-blast, and I do not want to use a full charge in the engine room of a ship on which I am a passenger.
For being so stout, they are fast. The two Rulmek have traversed the span of the room in a few oddly graceful strides. “Lia!” I scream, but she is already prepared. She bends down, removing a knife from her boot, then, as she’s straightening up, thrusts it upward into the armpit of one of the Rulmek. The armpit? At first, I think she has poor aim, but then the Rulmek is squealing a sound of pure agony, and I realize her aim was intentional. That must be their weak spot.
The other Rulmek, however, has not been hit, and he lifts his hand for a blow to the back of her neck. I’m running, trying to intercede, but Lia twists and gets her knife into the second Rulmek before I can approach. She pushes it in to the hilt, then jerks it for maximum damage. The first Rulmek is recovering somewhat, so Lia turns back to him and puts her knee to his nose. There is a spray of the black ichor that passes for their blood. Without letting go of the Rulmek’s face, she works each of her thumbs into the eye sockets. I hear the squelch as one of them pops with a runner of thin gruel trailing down his cheek.
I am in awe of this rebel, this fierce little human. She moves with the speed and ruthlessness of a warrior. I have seen many fights, many battles, and there is a world of difference between the movements of a skilled fighter and those of a cornered, desperate animal. Lia is the former. It’s clear that she’s trained and honed her skills.
I find myself not only desiring her… but admiring her, as well.
The Rulmek with the gouged eye is on the floor, and I give him a sharp kick to the face as I step over him. When my boot connects with his face, the only sound he makes is a pitiful gurgle as the blood and mucous clog the two little nasal slits in his face.
Lia is tired, her chest heaving and her limbs trembling slightly. The second Rulmek is straightening up, and when he leaps at her, she falls back to the ground with a thud as the air leaves her lungs. I take my weapon from its holster but don’t bother charging it. I don’t have the time. I strike the Rulmek on the back of the head with my anankah and it connects with a soft thump. Their damned skulls are thick and flat, shaped to absorb and diffuse blows. He grunts but does not get off of Lia. I grab onto the stringy ruff of hairs matted around the shoulders and pull him up. He is tremendously heavy, and I feel a little pinch in my back as a muscle tears from the exertion. Once he is on his feet, I use his momentum and throw him against a machine, hoping that something sharp is protruding at the point of contact.
He is muttering something in his foul language, and I can only make out fragments of it. I’m not sure if it’s because he is unintelligible or if my own language procedure is limited in the ability to understand the Rulmek tongue. “Shut up,” I say. I reach under his arm and pull out Lia’s knife. I’m dimly aware that she’s gotten up and is now watching over my shoulder, but that’s a distant concern right now. Right now, the only thing I care about is making this asshole pay for what he did.
I have enough clarity of mind to realize that this is not about neutralizing a hostile who is compromising my mission. This is about making him suffer—because he had the nerve to try to attack Lia. My protective instinct flares, running as hot as the engines in the bowels of the ship.
I shove the knife into his flesh, the same tender spot under his arm but on the other side. He howls in pain, and I feel my teeth bared in some grotesque mockery of a smile.
“This is their weak point?” I ask Lia.
“Yes,” she says. “The scales are weak under the arm to allow for range of motion. They have another weak spot. May I?” She gestures to the Rulmek.
“Of course,” I say. “I’m learning so much.” I feel no pity, no remorse for what we are doing. The Rulmek are murderers and fleshdealers—parasites on every civilization they come in contact with. They have no society of their own beyond the roving bands that terrorize the universe. Like a virus, they cannot exist on their own—they need a host to inhabit and destroy. Also like a virus, they infect everything they come in contact with.
I go to take the knife out, but I see she’s already got another one in her hand.
“Right here,” she says, pointing at the juncture between the Rulmek’s leg and groin.
“You have two knives attached to your spacesuit?” I ask, amused.
“Can’t have too many knives,” she says. Then plunges the blade into the Rulmek’s other weak spot.
He goes limp against the wall, and I let him fall.
“Seven minutes. We gotta get moving,” I say.
“No shit,” she says. “This way. Down the staircase.” I see the stairs, and they’re not too far away.
I’m thinking that we just might be able to pull this off when a different door opens and in rush more Rulmek guards.
A lot more.
“I hope you’re not all out of knives,” I say.
LIA
There’s no way we can fight off this many Rulmek. By my count there’s six that just rushed in, probably looking for their fallen comrades. I start to run toward the fuel chamber but feel a strong hand clamp down on my wrist. I’m so panicky that it takes me a second to realize it’s Bantokk and not one of the Rulmek.
“We gotta hide,” he whispers. I despise the idea of hiding, like I’m some sort of rabbit being chased by the big bad wolf. But before I can protest, he’s dragging me into some small storage closet. It’s stiflingly hot, pipes and storage drums crammed inside. We barely fit, but he pulls me in close to his chest, and I hear the click as the door shuts. He rifles around in his waist-pouch and takes out a small circular device. He sticks it onto the door and presses a button. It emits a small red beam of light that spans the entire doorway. “That will hold the door. And it will make them think that the door was locked and no one could get inside.”
“We can get them,” I say.
“Not six of them,” he says. “We’ll wait until they leave.”
“What if they don’t?” I ask. “What if they think the locked door is proof that we’re inside?”
“Nah,” he says. How in the world can he be so calm? Is it an act, or is he really this self-assured? “There’s no way to lock this door from the inside. It’s got a simple mechanical lock on the outside only. They’ll think it was locked to begin with and that we couldn’t have gotten it open without the key.”
“That assumes that the Rulmek are logical and would think of that,” I counter. Truth is, I don’t like hiding. I don’t like waiting. Cornered, locked away, helpless to do anything but imagine the worst possible things that could happen to you. It’s too much like captivity. And I’m not going to explain that to Bantokk. I don’t want to see the pity in his eyes when he looks at me. Now, when he looks at me, there’s a mixture of exasperation and irritation and sometimes anger—and I can deal with that. Just not pity.
You can always see it, the look in someone’s eyes as their whole perception of you changes. Humans are stupid and lazy, and we use a lot of mental shortcuts to profile and categorize. When someone learns of my captivity with the Rulmek, I instantly get moved into the “Victim” category. The “Poor Girl” category. The “Damaged” category.
And I’d rather be anything than that.
Much better
to be the insufferable, sneaky, thieving bitch. That I can deal with. That I sorta like.
“We’ll be fine,” he says. I wait for him to add the trite and meaningless ‘I promise,’ but to his credit, he does not. I suddenly respect him and trust his judgement a lot more.
“I hope so,” I say. It’s so hot in here… and I’m not sure it’s just because of the pipes. His body is pressed against mine, our hips touching, my breasts pushing against the hard plane of his chest. Even with the thick spacesuits on, I can feel the heat radiating off of him. I can smell his skin, the musky and masculine scent of battle sweat. I have the insane desire to lick it off his neck. To rip off my spacesuit and feel our hips press together when there is no barrier between them. Oh man, I am in trouble. These thoughts are not what I need right now. Right now, I need to focus on not getting slaughtered by the group of Rulmek right outside this door. Right now, whatever base bodily desires are running through my head are the lowest possible priority.
But as much as I tell myself that, I can’t quite seem to believe it. It’s like something more is happening. That being pressed against Bantokk in this small utility closet is a metaphor for something bigger—the two of us paired together and the unlikely adhesion that is resulting.
He feels it, too. I know it. That’s why this is so awkward, why the air is filled with a tension that has nothing to do with the danger of our mission.
And just then, he dips his head down to mine and kisses me.
I tense, pursing my lips for the slightest of seconds, then, oh fuck, what the hell, I give in. I open my mouth to his, closing my eyes and letting him probe my mouth gently with his tongue. I return the favor, and our tongues dance gently together like two stars in a binary orbit.
I can feel something inside of me change. It doesn’t have anything to do with the increasingly urgent throbbing between my legs. Something inside my brain changes.
I relax. I let go.
Like unshouldering a heavy pack that I didn’t even know I was carrying.
