by Cheree Alsop
Murmurs rose up among the warriors. Scaled faces showed anger while horns rattled and sharp teeth were bared.
Liora lifted a hand. “I know you’re angry.” She felt as much as saw Tariq’s hands clench into fists beside her. “I know the control you have to channel in order to keep from tearing this place apart.” She paused, looked at the desperate eyes of the betrayed warriors around her, and gave them what they needed. “You will have your opportunity to finish this once and for all. The great ship comes, and when it does, you can exact your revenge and make sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else.”
Shouts and yells of triumph spread through the hallway and rang in her ears. Pity filled her. These members of mortalkind had been lied to, bought with blood money from desperate families, and promised to be released from their duties as soon as the task was complete. Finding out that they were considered junk to be slain and tossed aside as soon as their usefulness was done was hard to swallow. She saw it in the flashing eyes, heard it in the angry mutters, and watched hands tighten on weapons.
The Vos would have their planet back. The door in the wall opened and the scaled creatures returned silently, covered in the blue blood of their enemy. Nods of approval passed from them to Liora. She had given what she had promised.
Her heart tightened. There was one last thing she had to show them.
“Where are you going?” Tariq asked, falling in at her side.
The warriors and Vos followed without question. The sound of boots, padded feet, and the quiet whisper of the Vos’ claws along the floor, walls, and ceiling surrounded her.
“The Cherum lied to me as much as they did to the warriors,” Liora said. “The Vos have a right to know the truth and act according to their need.”
Tariq’s expression shows his confusion, but he followed her with the rest.
Liora led the way along the winding halls to the top of the complex, then through the door at the end and back down. She felt sick with the knowledge of what she had done. She could pretend like it hadn’t happened, but the Vos would always wonder what end had come to their family members. They deserved better.
When Liora approached, the door to the end opened. She heard gasps of shock from the warriors around her. Sadness filled the gazes of the Vos. She stepped aside and let them pass. After the last Vos and warrior had entered, she and Tariq followed behind. One glance at his face showed that he guessed what had happened.
“It was a slaughter,” one of the warriors said.
Liora nodded without speaking. She could feel the thoughts of the Vos pushing against her, filled with sadness and pain as they looked through the bodies to see who had been slain. She took a steeling breath and pushed her memories at them, showing them how the Cherum had set her up and how their family members had attacked, thinking she was an enemy.
“How is this possible?” Korgutan asked. He pointed at the body of a Vos that was caught between that of the Vos and the Cherum. It had the orange scales and padded, clawed feet, but also the long white neck and big eyes of the Cherum.
“The Vos can change form,” she replied. “When I came in here, they were disguised as Cherum. They attacked me, thinking I was with the Cherum even though the Cherum had sent me in here to die.”
“What army did you use to fight them?” Korgutan asked.
Liora shook her head. Her quiet words sounded loud to her ears. “It was just me.”
The shocked silence that fell over the crowd was complete. Only the Vos, who didn’t understand what they were saying, continued to shuffle from body to body, taking note of their fallen comrades. The sorrow in their round black eyes ate at Liora. She had thought they would be angry and perhaps attack her as she deserved; instead, the sight of the bodies had taken the fight from them, leaving only sorrow in its wake.
“You are one of us,” Korgutan said.
It would have been the easy way out. Throwing blame onto a microchip in her brain that induced rage would have been met with acceptance, an acceptance she didn’t deserve.
Liora shook her head again. Tariq’s hand slipped into hers and he squeezed her fingers with a reassuring pressure.
“I am not one of you. I don’t have a microchip from the Cherum.”
“So you could have stopped?” a girl with long green hair and yellow skin asked.
Liora lowered her gaze from the girl’s searching red eyes. “I am a Damaclan. My race is a brutal one. It’s in my blood. Right or wrong, it’s who I am. I could have stopped, maybe, but I didn’t want to.”
Tariq lifted a hand to still the talking that followed.
“Liora Day is a Damaclan and more. She is also human, and as such, she holds the qualities necessary to lead you against the Cherum and seek your revenge.” He waved a hand, indicating the fallen Vos. “She was deceived just as you have been, and she is equipped to bring you the justice you and the countless planets and warriors that have fallen deserve. Will you give her that chance?”
The silence that followed was charged with uncertainty. Even the Vos paused in their sifting through the bodies as though they felt the crackle of energy that meant a change was about to happen.
Korgutan, the warriors’ chosen mouthpiece, stepped forward.
“You saved us from them,” he said. He spread a hand tipped with blue fingernails, indicating the bodies around the room. “Any one of us could have done this.”
“Or been killed doing this,” the green-haired girl pointed out.
Korgutan nodded and lifted his voice so that all of the warriors could hear. “Alone, we are angry and helpless to act in the face of that anger. With Warden Day, we have a chance to regain some of our dignity and fight for our lives back. She chose to take a stand, and because of that, we have a chance. Who will follow her?”
Every warrior in the room roared a reply. The Vos scattered and regrouped on the wall behind Liora, a scaled army fueled with rage at the loss of their loved ones.
“When will the ship arrive?” Tariq asked.
It took Liora moment to realize he had spoken. She tore her gaze away from the warriors around her and gave the human her full attention.
“What did you ask?”
Tariq repeated, “When will the Cherum’s ship land on Basttist?”
Liora thought of the images from the Cherum. “It was no longer in contact with them before we reached the chamber. The atmosphere interferes with the signal. The ship will be landing at any moment.”
“Is there a chance it warned them about what happened here?” the green-haired girl asked.
Liora shook her head. “There wasn’t a chance with the interference. They didn’t appear to have the need to be in constant contact, so the element of surprise is still ours.”
Tariq nodded. “We need to use it to our best advantage. I have an idea.”
Tariq first told Liora his plan, then she had him address her army in the main corridor of the Cherum’s building. When the Vos approached, their scaled faces covered in blue and red blood and the emotions of frustration wafting from them, Liora gently pushed Tariq’s strategy into their minds. The fact that they still trusted her after what she had shown them touched her deeply.
Everything hinged on the Vos’ agreement to the plan; luckily, the Vos didn’t appear to relish the idea of allowing more Cherum to overrun their planet until both their race and Basttist were destroyed. They changed shape the way they had when Liora was first attacked in the other half of the building. Guilt filled her at the thought that she had slain so many of their race. She swore to do whatever she could to see that the rest of them survived both her presence and the Cherums’.
The ship landed in a plume of yellow dust. Liora watched from her position behind several boulders that were hot to the touch; when a drop of her perspiration fell on them, a puff of steam rose up. The Vos in the form of Cherum stood in rows the way she had seen them do in the giant Cherum’s mind. They didn’t flinch when the yellow dirt washed over them in a cloud. She could feel tho
ughts pounding against her from the Cherum in the ship, but she didn’t answer in the hopes that silence would have more of a chance to bring them out then a stranger’s answer.
Liora’s strategy proved correct. A great door opened on the side of the pale blue ship in the circular way they did in the complex. The oval widened and a ramp slid forward. The Cherum within the ship hurried down on their tiny feet, content with the knowledge that the race of the planet had been destroyed as well as the army. Tools showed in many of the long-fingered hands, instruments to best analyze the planet so they might attain the greatest wealth from Basttist.
The Cherum who reached the ground first paused at the lack of response from the others. Liora felt pushing again from another Center on the ship. She wondered how many more of the controlling beings were hidden within the blue walls. She was determined to find them all.
She gave the push, urging the Vos to attack.
“Now,” Tariq shouted, feeling her command.
Korgutan stood and the warriors who had waited so silently buried within the hot sand burst free.
The Vos changed to their scaled forms and swarmed up the ramp, tearing down Cherum as they did so. The warriors followed close behind, taking out any survivors that escaped the Vos’ onslaught. The last warrior and Vos vanished into the ship, leaving only bodies along the ramp.
“Are we going in?” Tariq asked.
Liora shook her head. “This is their fight. Justice is done.”
She walked back slowly toward the Cherum compound. Tariq stood for a moment longer by the yellow rocks, then joined her. Together, they crossed into the quiet building, Liora haunted by the images of the Vos she had slain, and Tariq fighting to control the urge to attack the fallen bodies around them, venting his futile rage on the corpses responsible for turning his thoughts into that of an infuriated beast instead of a human.
Chapter 10
“You really need to eat something,” Tariq said.
Liora looked up to see him watching her from the other cushion. Thanks to the Cherum’s strange body composition, there wasn’t a kitchen or mess hall on the ship; instead, there were rooms upon rooms with only cushions on the floors. Dispensers on the walls emitted a sticky gruel that was only one flavor and reminded Liora very much of the orange liquid from the swamp of Verdan.
“I don’t know if I would call this edible,” Liora replied. She realized Tariq had finished his gruel. “You seem to like it.”
Tariq turned the cup over in his hands. He studied the interior as if he had never seen it before.
“I don’t remember if I liked it or not.”
Liora gave him a curious look. “You just ate it.”
Tariq nodded, his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at the blue mug he held.
“Yes, but it didn’t matter to me whether I liked it. It was sustenance, so I ate it.”
He seemed bothered by his words. Liora tried to make light of it.
“Your body needed nourishment. Eventually, any of us will eat whatever’s available to get that.”
Tariq shook his head. “It’s different.” He paused, then said, “It’s all different.” He waved a hand, indicating the room in which they sat. “The walls could be covered in O’Tule’s paintings, and I wouldn’t care.”
“That wouldn’t bother her,” Liora began.
“But it bothers me,” Tariq replied. “I love O’Tule’s paintings.” He hesitated, then said, “Or, I loved them. I don’t think I’d give them a second thought anymore.”
Liora rose to her knees and studied him. “Tariq, it’s okay if you don’t care about the flavor of your food or paintings on the walls. You’re still Tariq.”
“I’m not so sure.”
Liora’s heart ached at his words. “What do you mean?”
Tariq took her hand. Liora had missed the simple gesture more than she thought. She felt herself leaning closer just to be near him.
He met her gaze, his eyes intent. “Liora, what makes you who you are is the drive in your heart, the way you never stop fighting, and the passion with which you free oppressed creatures around you.” He brought his free hand to her cheek, his gaze filled with tumultuous emotions. “The way each time you smile looks like the first, as though you’re ready to burst out laughing, but don’t know if you should.” He sat back. “You are alive with light and energy, with drive, and with the kind of fervor that makes you a leader even if you don’t try to be.”
His words brought a small smile to her lips. “Tariq, you’re the same way.”
He shook his head and withdrew his hands, leaving her skin cold where he had touched her.
“I was the same way,” he corrected quietly.
He looked at his hands. She knew them so well, the scars as well as the strength. They were hands that could crush skulls and shoot a gun with such accuracy she had never seen their match; yet he could also caress her skin with a touch so gentle it felt as though the wing of a Venus wisp traced her face. He would stitch together skin that had been ravaged by a Zamarian’s blades, and in the next moment remove shrapnel close enough to a crew member’s heart that any wrong move could end a life.
His hands closed into fists so tight the skin on his knuckles turned white, highlighting the scars.
“I only want to kill. I don’t care about taste or colors.”
His gaze begged her to understand. The desperation in his eyes ate at her.
“I don’t feel the way I used to.”
Liora took one of his hands in hers. He resisted, but when she pulled gently, he gave in. She opened his fingers softly. The fact that she had as many scars on her hands wasn’t lost on her.
Without a word, she turned his hand and placed it over her heart.
“Do you feel that?” she asked quietly. “My heart beats because of you.”
Tariq closed his eyes and, for a moment, silence settled around them. He opened his eyes again and she saw love amid the frustration in his gaze. She leaned closer and pressed her lips against his. He moved his hand to her neck, pulling her gently to him as he kissed her back.
“I love you, Tariq,” she whispered.
He let out a breath that was more of a sigh and leaned his forehead against hers. His eyes closed and he stilled. She could feel the tension easing out of him, but he still couldn’t say the words back to her. She pushed comfort at him.
“I’ll do anything it takes to help you get return to where you feel like yourself again,” she promised.
He nodded without opening his eyes.
***
The starship lifted into the sky. Liora watched the men and women of her army move about the control room. It felt like more than coincidence that some of them had come from the Holmberg II Galaxy. The planets of that galaxy were high in ore, and each had been responsible for helping to build a piece of the cylindrical ship. While her army was volatile and could snap at any moment, it was hard to remember that watching them move with ease around the vast cockpit, checking levels, their flight path, and the minutiae that came with flying a starship that had hours before been home to thousands of Cherum.
The bodies had been left on Basttist. The Vos gave the impression that they wanted the corpses to appease their gods. Liora wasn’t sure how they would do that, but she didn’t ask. The fact that the ship was no longer full of the networked Cherum minions and their four great Centers was a relief. There were enough supplies aboard to take them to Dreyer Nebular Five-Eighty Four.
“I’ve reached your father,” Korgutan announced. He had stepped into the role of the unspoken leader of the warriors. Though he was younger than many of them, they listened to him. Liora respect the quiet way he instructed the men and women at her command without ordering them to do anything he wouldn’t do.
At Liora’s nod, Senior Commandant Day’s image appeared on the screen. It was fuzzy, but the relief in his eyes at seeing her was clear.
“Oh, thank goodness!” he exclaimed. “Pilot Zanden said you had been attacked
by Ketulans. He shouldn’t have left your side.”
Liora shook her head. “I told them to make the jump. Tariq’s ship was being torn apart, and I didn’t want more casualties. They did what they were supposed to do.”
Her father’s brow furrowed. “He said when he went back, only a few scraps of the Nines had been left behind.” His gaze shifted to the ship around her. “Where are you?”
“We were rescued by a race I’ve never seen before,” Liora replied. She didn’t want to go into the details. “I’ll tell you about it later. What’s important is that we have a ship now and an army to free Brandis.”
“An army?” her dad repeated.
Liora gave him a smile. His concern for her showed through even the bad reception. “Dad, I’m fine. Honest. We’re on our way to the Dreyer Galaxy. We’ll meet up with Zanden and the others and free Brandis. I’ll let you know when we’re on our way home.”
An answering smile brushed the commandant’s lips, but it faded. He met her gaze and for a moment, it felt like it was just her and her father talking alone in the room.
“Liora, I worry about you every moment you’re not here. I shouldn’t have let you go on this mission. It’s too dangerous. Pilot Zanden was afraid you and Tariq had both been killed.” He took a breath, then said, “Is it too much to ask for you to come home and let the others save your brother?”
There was a catch in her father’s voice. He was afraid of losing both of his children.
“We might not know each other too well yet,” Liora began, “But you know I have a stubborn streak.”
“That’s for sure,” Tariq said at her side.
Her father nodded with a small smile. “I’m afraid you may have gotten that from me.”
Liora knew he would never command her to come home; he knew her well enough to not try anything like that. Yet the want to do so showed on his face.
