by Ann Aguirre
He had nothing to prove from a physical altercation, but if the hunter favored a smart suit, there would be technology Helix could turn against him. Unfair, certainly. By most standards, those tactics counted as dirty, but he would do whatever it took to keep his love group safe. With any luck, it wouldn’t come to that.
Qalu curled into him, apparently untroubled by the threat that might soon manifest in their vicinity. At first, he lay awake, trying to factor the probability that they would survive an encounter with Toth Krag when nobody else had. Nita could have given him an exact number, astronomically low, but for once, Helix felt better without the precise calculations. In time, sleep set upon him like a thief, stealing his consciousness, and the next thing he knew, Aevi was perched by his head, her tail tapping gently between the eyes. He stared upward, interested in this unique glimpse inside the Pherzul’s nasal cavity.
“Get up! I’m bored. And hungry. But mostly bored. Where’s Qalu?”
With a sense of foreboding, he realized he was alone on the sleep platform. Perhaps, she’d gone to procure sustenance? It would be a kindness in character with her other qualities, and if she’d expected to return before he roused, she might not have left any indication of her whereabouts. But when he scanned her place beside him with augmented senses, the composite held no traces of her warmth, only cool blue tones where there should be red and yellow.
She’s been gone a while. Even if she decided to leave me—to board the ship after all—she would never go without Aevi.
Something is wrong.
His pulse spiked. Helix didn’t wish to alarm the Pherzul. He rose carefully without responding, but Aevi clutched at his lower limb, her claws digging in. Not hard enough to break draw blood, but he sensed her growing agitation. Soon, she’d pierce the skin, creating wounds.
“You smell frightened. Where is she? Something is wrong.” Unconsciously, Aevi voiced his private thoughts. “Qalu does not vanish.”
“We should look for her,” he said, striding toward the exit.
But before he reached it, a message pinged, coded to his attention. It came from a local source instead of the distant node used by the syndicate. And Helix knew, even before the words reached him, what conclusion must be drawn: Toth Krag has arrived. The voice sounded deep and mechanical, audible only to him, via subcutaneous aural capacitors. “I have your Tiralan companion. You’ve proven an elusive quarry, but I’ve never yet failed a hunt, and I will not permit you to tarnish my perfect record. If you wish to trade your life for hers, here are the coordinates. Time is running out.”
If. That was the offer the bounty hunter made.
Except there was no question, no need for deliberation. Not when he owed everything to Qalu. His current existence, most of the happiness and all the pleasure he’d ever known. It wasn’t a complicated equation that required time and energy to solve. Helix knew when and where, so he merely had to present himself to save her. And he would, without hesitation.
But he had a few arrangements to make first.
Just because he was willing to perish to preserve her life, didn’t mean he shouldn’t augment his own odds of survival. Breathe. That’s important for organic lifeforms.
“What are you waiting for?” Aevi demanded.
Briefly he considered whether he ought to alarm the Pherzul, then he realized he’d promised honesty among the members of their love group, give them the opportunity to make their own choices. Qalu would want Aevi to know. And if he accepted that Aevi had equal worth, then she should receive all the information in order to make an educated judgment.
So he said, “The bounty hunter has taken Qalu. Soon, I’ll meet him to offer myself in exchange. If…” He hesitated, at first unwilling to speak those words out of some innate and primitive dread. In the end, necessity won out. “If the worst comes to pass, she will need you more than ever. To comfort her, afterward.”
Helix didn’t expect the Pherzul to launch herself at him, not an attack, but comfort. She hit his chest with a solid thud, and he held her close, breathing in the verdurous, dusty scent of the little one who had become so precious to him, remnants of her time in the garden. Aevi whirred and rubbed against him.
Her words were resolute. “We will save her. But if you fall in battle, I will avenge you.” Her big eyes shone with unexpected ferocity. “Even if it takes my whole life, I will find a way to make this Toth Krag pay.”
He took the promise seriously, for a Pherzul’s vengeance was no small matter. Already he could tell that Aevi held grudges, so perhaps the galaxy ought to take pity on the bounty hunter. Somehow, he felt better, despite the situation.
“Thank you,” Helix said.
Quickly, he contacted the syndicate, agreeing to their terms. And then he dove, deep into the swirling data streams where he’d hidden their funds. He pulled the fractional amounts back together, rushing from all corners of the universe. It couldn’t be instantaneous, of course. At such great distance, data could only move so fast, but the closest transactions would reach his enemies soon. The main question was if the credits would all be returned before he presented himself to Toth Krag.
It might not matter. The hunter might kill him for amusement. Helix had been shocked to learn that some organic beings took pleasure in inflicting pain.
No matter.
As long as he showed up within the time frame, he believed that Krag was one who followed his own code. His cooperation should be enough to safeguard Qalu.
Setting a tracker to monitor the return of the stolen credits, he eased it to the periphery of his attention. Finally, he glanced at Aevi, who had leapt from his shoulder and was prowling the space, a tiny, enraged predator.
“We’re going now,” she said. Not a question. More of an order.
“Yes, I’ve done what I can. The rest is…” Beyond my control. He couldn’t bring himself to say it when he’d once been so good at factoring probabilities, able to juggle a thousand tasks at the same without really caring about the consequences. All work was the same after all.
Before, as an AI, he hadn’t understood emotional ramifications or possessed any sense of what injury might occur if one of his predictions failed. As he’d been, it was more of an interesting experiment, a means of solving a problem or gathering information. He hadn’t truly grasped the harm he’d inflicted on Beryl Bowman in severing her connection to her homeworld.
Now he understood pain. Desire. Loneliness and expectation. Emotions were an indescribable boon and an invisible weight; they simultaneously provided the reason to continue and the potential to wish everything would stop. Such a contradiction, this organic state.
“Yes. We must go to the station’s lowest level.”
“I’m with you,” Aevi said.
The Pherzul stalked ahead, hissing when the door didn’t budge for her. Helix opened it and followed the little one out. With great effort, he kept his terror in check, refusing to let those emotions further compromise his ability to strategize. I can do this. I’ll save her.
And if he didn’t?
There was no reason for him to exist.
Qalu studied the bounty hunter, but she could discern little about Krag’s appearance beneath the heavy mechanical armor he wore.
From top to bottom, he was fully encased in metal. Krag’s armor was old, dinged and battle-scarred, countless shots he’d taken and survived. The dull gray of it was burned dark, patched on the side with overlapping plates. Krag posed a hulking figure with a broad chest in bipedal shape, and his helmet had a rebreather, though the size gave nothing away. Likewise, the faceplate was a dark composite, showing nothing of Krag’s features. Was it strange to be curious about the person who might end her life?
Doubtless such gear protected him and added to his mystique, for nobody had ever seen his face and lived to tell of it. There were stories, of course. She’d looked him up after Praxys mentioned how ruthless Krag was, but all the legends were comprised of speculation, hearsay, and whispers that had be
en passed along without confirmation. Nobody had seen more than she had, and she took in details without intending to commit them to memory. Burn scar on the front, black like a dying star. Score marks on the back that were visible when Krag turned. External power pack, moving the motorized joints. Red tubes on the sides, flowing with…what? Qalu didn’t know, but she itched to inspect his suit.
Science, it’s always science.
At least it wasn’t science that got her caught, however. She’d gone to fetch some food for the three of them, never expecting the bounty hunter would be looking for her, as well as Helix. But apparently the syndicate had provided intel on Helix’s traveling companions.
Krag had taken her with such swiftness that she had no opportunity even to cry out. Now she sat trussed in the corner of a remote and derelict part of the station– a rectangular storage unit, partially filled with old parts, slowly rusting metal, and a few loose shelves. The metal was cold against her back, like ice that formed on the skin of someone dying deep in vacuum. Her head tendrils shivered, revealing her fear, though she was trying so hard to remain composed.
I won’t beg. I won’t give this monster the satisfaction.
Qalu tried to stay calm, refusing to speak when Krag’s silence weighed on her like a dozen boulders. Better that he took me than Aevi. The Pherzul would’ve provoked Krag and possibly been obliterated for her fighting spirit—without getting to use her claws or venomous bite. Though it wasn’t easy, she would maintain her composure and seek an opportunity.
“You haven’t asked why you’ve been detained.” Krag finally broke the deadlock, speaking in a voice so deep that it was like rocks dragging across the ocean floor, all gravel and hidden menace, caught in some infernal undertow.
Qalu pressed her forelimbs together to keep them from revealing more of her distress and took a small measure of satisfaction in knowing that she’d waited Krag out. “You intend to barter me, I expect. Most likely you’ve already contacted Helix.”
“Then you understand perfectly. You are remarkably calm for one who may be executed in another’s stead.”
“And you are remarkably callous to say such a thing without care or pity.”
A sound echoed from Krag’s helmet, like a sudden, sharp breath that created feedback. “What is pity? Does it feed the hungry or keep the strong from preying on the weak?”
“It can,” she said, surprised that Krag was continuing the conversation. “If one is moved by another and steps in to offer sustenance or shelter or protection.”
“You live in an imaginary world,” Krag said flatly, “where everyone is kind and stories end happily.”
You should join me there, she almost said. The words hovered unspoken, filling Qalu’s mind with doubt. I might anger him. Perhaps this was pointless, but she had to try. “Do you even know why you’re hunting Helix?”
“I don’t get paid to ask questions,” the bounty hunter snapped.
She ignored that, continuing in a level tone. “He befriended a child on Gravas Station. When she and her family disappeared suddenly, he investigated…” Quietly, she laid out the circumstances, including the theft and how he’d only done it as a distraction. “That’s the sort of person you’re punishing.”
Krag didn’t respond. If the hunter cared about maintaining a flawless record, it stood to reason that the fate of his targets didn’t impact him. Krag might believe that a bounty hunter was a weapon that fired under someone else’s orders. The quiet went on for much longer than Qalu expected, until she lost herself in progressive grimmer thoughts.
“You truly believe that?” Krag asked finally.
At first, she didn’t even know what the bounty hunter was asking. She’d been sitting in a daze, wondering how much time she had left. So many regrets.
She wished she had been more patient with foremother, Inatol. Gentler and kinder with the others. I wish I had told them I love them more. I wish I had paused my research when they begged me to join them for an early meal.
But that was the trap of everyday life. She’d gotten lost in the minutiae and lost sight of what truly mattered, always thinking there would be more time. Until it ran out unexpectedly, like a wall that unexpectedly blocked the path forward. Qalu stared at Krag, her personal wall, her gaze tracing slowly up the length of the weapon he handled with absolute expertise. It wasn’t even that he was trying to intimidate her with it; she knew that. His entire existence was a threat, and he handled the implement of violence like an extension of himself. She had never seen anything like it, so she didn’t know what to call his killing device. It was long, jagged on the side, tapered on one end, but it also rippled with energy, as if he could use it to rend, pierce, or electrocute. Sheer speculation on her part, and she had no intention of asking for a personal demonstration. Soon he might show her whether she wanted him to or not.
“That my target deserves mercy. And that…” A hesitation over choosing the right word? “…compassion can make a difference?”
“I do, yes. On both counts.” Improbable as it seems, maybe I’m reaching him? Hope stirred like a delicate winged cryptid, fluttering until she could scarcely bear the tickle.
“Tiralan must be beautiful,” Krag said then. The rebreather added echoes and air to the bounty hunter’s voice, so Qalu might be imagining the wistfulness.
At first, it seemed like a non sequitur, but she thought she understood. Tiralan was a beautiful world, where justice prevailed. Living there had taught her to be gentle, showing her how to care for others, even if she wasn’t as good at it as some. She wondered where Krag came from and what harsh lessons the hunter had absorbed there.
It must be a hostile place.
Yet Qalu still pounced on the opening. “It’s lovely. And my mothers are waiting for me. I left quite suddenly, only said goodbye in a hasty message. I’m sorry about that. I wish I’d treated them better while I had the chance.”
A growl from Krag, one that sent shivers through her. “We all wish that. But we don’t see those moments until we’re past them. We don’t know it’s too late until it is. Until we’ve seen someone for the last time and said something terrible—or worse, indifferent—without realizing we’d be carrying that for the rest of our lives.”
She was clever enough to realize that Krag was talking about personal matters now, not truly commenting on her own statement. “Words that can’t be taken back are impossible to shift,” Qalu said softly. “So are actions. I won’t beg for my life, or for Helix’s, because I don’t think you’re the sort of person who can be moved in that regard. But I will ask you to reflect on whether this is one of those moments.” She paused, trying to decide if she’d said enough. “Forgive me if you prefer me to refrain from making personal observations, but it seems as if you carry enough weight already. I would prefer not to add to your burdens.”
Too far.
She realized that when he slammed an armored fist into the wall and left a crater behind, the whole container shook, grimy shelves tumbling down around her.
“You know nothing,” Krag snarled.
“And yet,” Qalu whispered, refusing to cower. She gazed up at the bounty hunter fearlessly, gambling everything.
“And yet?”
“You want to let me go.”
[ 21 ]
Helix couldn’t wait any longer.
Qalu was running out of time, and as it was, he was already cutting it close. Aevi seemed ready to scratch his face off, so he hastened to the meeting point deep in the bowels of the station. They dodged curious workers and bots assigned to prevent trespassing in restricted areas. Helix hacked the patrol droids and wiped their memories as he and Aevi passed by, and he had to do it again to override the freight lift that carried them down to the lowest level.
Stations looked different to him now than they had when he was wandering Gravas as a mech unit. No natural light, and it was dreary, inhospitable—so much metal, a dearth of life, all hard angles and unforgiving chill. He missed the verdant
hills of Tiralan, the wildlife noises, and even the strange but beautiful brightness of the twin suns. They’d left before eclipse season and he wanted to witness the extended darktide for himself. Until this moment, he hadn’t understood what homesickness was—Qalu had used the word before, but it was only a concept. Now he grasped the feeling.
Qalu is here somewhere wondering if I’ll save her.
I’m coming, he promised silently. I will never let you go again.
In his peripheral vision, the transactions were processing, more credits wending their way toward his enemies on Gravas Station. As they approached the container, he considered sending a bot to scout first, but no, that might risk Qalu’s safety. And he cared more for saving her than for his own life. That was a sobering realization—that she’d surmounted his self-preservation protocols. How curious. As an AI, Helix would never have chosen to destroy himself for anyone else, not even Zylar. He would need to consider the matter more fully, but for now—
He kicked open the door, dread coiling within him over what he’d find.
The container was full of wreckage, scraps of metal and signs of violence, with the wall dented. Qalu sat on the far side, trussed but not gagged. Her head tendrils fluttered, though the situation was too tense for him to interpret those movements. The bounty hunter spun as Helix stepped inside, leveling an elongated weapon—a xerxax—commonly used by the Vurnoi, though Helix couldn’t confirm whether Krag was Vurnoi through the heavy armor.
“You waited until the last possible moment,” Krag said in a deep bass rumble. “I had begun to question your commitment.”
Beside him, Aevi hissed, showing her teeth at the hunter, and her tail sliced in the air in angry slashes. Helix picked the little one up for fear that she would attack and get hurt. Gently, he stroked the top of her head and down her back, all his attention focused on Krag.
“I’m here now. Let Qalu go. I’m the one you want. There’s no reason to hurt her.”
