Sestra stood there eyeing the Ansaran coldly, scaled arms crossed over her chest. She approached Astrid slowly, her golden eyes conveying every ounce of hatred she bore the blue-skinned woman. Saturn noticed that Sestra’s tight clothing had become speckled with sand, clinging to the dark fabric. The Dinari was solely focused on Astrid, sizing her up before snarling, “You would dare speak of the Phage under my roof?”
“She asked and I answered. I meant no offense.”
Saturn felt her left wrist buzz and checked the curved display that enveloped her lower forearm like a bracer. The buzzing was loud enough that Sestra and the others were quieted, staring in her direction. A yellow dot was flashing rapidly on the screen. She pressed it and a hologram projected up out of her forearm in the shape of a grainy Dinari face.
Nix stared back at her, a tenth his normal size and frantic. The projection lit the room so that each of their faces reflected the orange hue. Nix was clearly distraught, almost as though he’d been crying. His mouth opened and before he could say anything he shut his eyes tight and looked away.
“It’s Liam,” he told her. “I need you back at The Sand’s Edge. He needs you.”
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Saturn asked quickly.
“Just get back here,” Nix said before turning to Sestra and adding, “Except you, Sestra, it’s probably best if you stay where you are.”
“Very well,” Sestra replied, curiosity tinting her gritty voice.
“Nix, tell me what’s happening.”
A scream pierced through the transmission and Nix quickly looked over his shoulder. He turned back and demanded, “Now, Saturn! And bring the Ansaran.”
Nix cut the feed and Saturn was left, mouth ajar and unable to think of a satisfying response.
Ju-Long appeared at her side and lowered her wrist for her.
“Come on,” he said softly, gripping her arm to ensure she didn’t stumble. “Let’s go.”
Saturn nodded and followed Ju-Long and Astrid out the door. When she looked back, she saw Sestra’s gaze lower as though deep in prayer.
8
The Sand’s Edge Bar
“Hold him down,” Nix cried, his voice muffled by a leather breathing mask that was strapped snugly around his face.
Two large Dinari also donning full-facial masks and thick gloves held Liam down against one of the rounded tables near the bar. One of them was Riken, Zega’s barkeep and prize fighter whose scarred body had added a few extra burns after his loss to Ju-Long in the fighting ring. Riken strapped a mask over Liam’s face that bore the likeness of a blackened lizard’s skull. It was a symbol that was said to ward off death and would also serve to abate the spray of blood from Liam’s mouth during his many coughing fits.
Nix cautiously approached his friend with his hands out in front of him defensively, stopping just shy of him to be safe. “Don’t fight us, Liam. We need to get you upstairs until we can find a way to treat you.”
“What the hell is happening to me?” Liam struggled to say through the burnt Death Shroud.
“It’s the Dinari—” Nix stopped and hardened his voice before continuing. “It’s the Phage Sickness.”
Nix turned to Riken and ordered, “Get him upstairs to a private room and then set up a perimeter for decontamination. I don’t have to remind you that if any of his fluids enter your body it’ll mean your death. Burn your clothes when you’re through.”
Riken nodded to the other Dinari and they lifted Liam together, carrying him up the curling staircase and out of sight. Once they’d gone, Nix’s eyes remained entranced on the table against which Liam had been held. Droplets of blood remained on its surface and there was a trail of drips leading to the door. Nix backed up until he could feel the high edge of the bar underneath his shoulder blades.
How could this happen? The Phage Sickness had been gone for decades. If this was the Ansarans’ doing, then they’d broken the treaty. But who else could it have been? The Dinari had never had access to the virus in its nascent state. They were going to need help if they were going to get through this without losing him. Or without contracting the virus for that matter. For a moment his mind brushed against his childhood nightmares. The piles of dead. The flames.
Nix focused on the nearest droplet of blood and cursed aloud. Saturn and the others would be there shortly and they couldn’t enter the bar unprotected. Nix pushed off from the bar with his gloved hands and skirted around the blood-stained floor to a short staircase that led down into Zega’s cellar. He descended the stairs quickly and used his muscle to push through the thick door.
Inside, a single globe illuminated the long room. Zega’s chamber was empty, but for the elongated stone table that ran along the center. The bar’s proprietor was nowhere to be seen. Nix moved fervently to the back of the room and pushed aside a tightly-woven green rug made from the reeds that grew at the edge of the great sea. He fumbled with a circular latch that was cut into the stone floor and pulled up hard against the aging metal bracket. The fake stone was lighter than wood and was easily raised above his head, where it clicked into place. Nix stepped gingerly down the steep dark stairs that led down below.
He rummaged along the shelf to his right for one of the small globes, which vivified at his touch. The tiny space in which he found himself was nothing more than an underground shed, lined with Dinari pulse weapons, Ansaran lasers, and all of the trappings of war. Nix moved toward the back to the breathing masks. He grabbed a bag and shoved three masks into it, along with gloves and extra cloaks. It wasn’t ideal, but it’d have to do.
On his way back up to the bar, Nix’s mind was brought back to the sizzle at the tip of his laser rifle. His hot breath came out cool compared to the air around him. The seconds that followed felt drawn out. He was reliving the moment in his head, trying to think of what else he could have done. It was a dangerous game.
How could he have let this happen? Getting Liam back to the bar had been a task in itself. Luckily, Riken responded to his call and brought help and supplies. Even then, Nix remained intimately aware of his body, staying alert for early signs of the virus. He recounted the symptoms that he’d learned by heart as a boy. If anyone felt the effects they were to immediately isolate themselves for the greater good. Fear, however, had a funny way of distorting one’s priorities. It was that same fear that gripped him as he continued to run through each precaution he’d taken, taking stock of every moment. Had he been exposed? If so, he wouldn’t have to wait long to find out. Twenty-Four hours. That was how long it took for the virus to kill most Dinari.
Nix absently approached the front door and stepped out into the sandy street, letting the door close behind him with a thud and a jangle of the loosely fitted lock. The warm midday sun was beating down on him, the yellow and orange hues blinding to his large, globular eyes. The street was deserted. Word of the Phage would have spread quickly and for good reason. On top of that, The Sand’s Edge had been buzzing with rumors of an uprising for weeks. A number of Dinari had seen graffiti on the clay porticos of homes and shops around Sector Seven.
Zega’s plan was progressing more rapidly than even Nix had anticipated, and Liam’s condition was a tragic distraction they couldn’t afford. Even thinking such thoughts made Nix feel overly callous, but it was the truth. He had to remember their faces, their piercing screams, or he wouldn’t be prepared for what might happen next. The sickness that took his mother and father was back. If there was any chance he could stop the spread he’d take it, no matter the cost.
A strong gust of wind blew a swirl of sand past Nix. In the distance a sandstorm was approaching the city. In truth, that might be the best news he’d heard all day. It meant everyone would be inside, lessening the chance of spreading the Phage. The sunlight dulled, blocked by intermittent plumes of sand on the horizon. It wouldn’t be long now.
Sector Seven was positioned near the edge of Garuda Colony, which looked a bit like a puffy cloud from above. The Colony was a series of cir
cular sectors bunched together, each with a spire reaching a few kilometers into the sky. Between Sectors Seven and Eight, the Caretaker’s massive tower rose slightly higher than the others, with a rigid metal pole at its peak to ensure it would always remain on top. None of that mattered. Soon, they would all be covered in sand regardless of how high in the sky one lived. The desert didn’t pass judgment.
Nix didn’t have to wait more than a couple of minutes before two hover bikes approached, coming to a sudden halt before him. Saturn dismounted the back of Ju-Long’s bike with shaky legs, stress drawing color from her normally tanned face.
She staggered up to him and asked with a quivering hand grabbing at his outer cloak, “What happened? Tell me.”
Ju-Long and Astrid got off their hover bikes and joined Saturn at her side. Astrid was cloaked in roughly sewn Dinari garb, hooded and gloved to obscure her pale blue skin. Ju-Long cradled the hand cut by the broken glass, now wrapped with a blood-stained piece of tan cloth.
Nix shook his head and said with a muffled voice through his breathing mask, “Liam has contracted the Phage. It’s not good.”
Astrid asked, “I thought the Phage Sickness could only affect Dinari?”
“Have the Ansarans ever tested it on a human before?” Nix replied scathingly.
Astrid averted Nix’s gaze and shook her head.
The Dinari’s eyes traveled to the line of residences across the street, the windows of which had been shut and locked but the bulbous yellow eyes of dozens of Dinari still peeped out through the cracks. He held out the bag of masks and protective clothing and ordered, “Put these on and get inside. Watch where you step and don’t touch anything.”
9
Zega paced his flat, wringing his hands together anxiously. Luscious water plants hung down in front of the windows, sprayed intermittently with a fine mist. Their purple leaves were filled with the succulent nectar of the gods. Zega loved the Nerva plant. It was one of the few small luxuries he afforded himself.
Zega was filled with a nervous energy. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, he thought. Liam had become an important part of his operation. Now his plans were teetering on the brink of collapse. What was that mercenary thinking? The Phage? Where did he even get his hands on a sample? It was supposed to be wiped out of existence after the war. All the more reason they needed a change in leadership.
His apartment was on the topmost floor of a six level building at the heart of Sector Seven. It was a nicer area, with armed guards posted at every entrance. In his business, Zega couldn’t be too careful. With the manner of slime that he worked with on a daily basis, it was a small wonder he was even alive.
Zega’s flat had minimal furniture, but what he did have was of the best quality in the colony. Many colorful rugs brought life to the cold ceramic floor. Zega approached his long wooden table and picked up the carcass of a small lizard from an ornate dish, freshly grilled by his servant. He could see the small Dinari boy hiding beyond his bedroom door, trying to remain out of sight and failing miserably.
The boy still had a long way to go, but it’d only been a few months since the child had replaced his last servant after he’d failed one too many times. His previous servant was lucky he was still alive after the embarrassment Zega suffered as a result of his incompetence. But, after all, he wasn’t a monster.
When Zega bit into the lizard’s head, its warm innards oozed out onto his tongue, salty and sweet. The small bit of charred skin was his favorite. He felt the juice from the flesh trail down his chin, but he was too busy savoring the flavor to brush it away. What his servant lacked in manners he more than made up for with his cooking ability. Maybe that’s why he’d been so easy on him.
Movement caught Zega’s attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned toward the balcony, dropping the remains of the lizard onto the plate at the center of the table. That was quick, he thought. He motioned to the boy in his bedroom and the door quickly shut.
The mercenary dropped down from the railing to the base of the balcony, entering the flat like he owned it and stopping when he reached the end of the table. His armor was made up of sharp segments that didn’t look safe to touch. Zega found himself inching away, intimidated by the man despite his smaller stature.
“I thought I was clear you wouldn’t question my methods,” he said in his metallic, filtered voice.
Zega worked himself up thinking about the mercenary’s actions, his anger building.
“I paid Vidu off as you instructed. I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain, but what you’ve done is madness. The Phage? A line must be drawn. He could have infected the whole colony!”
The mercenary laughed, ambling around the side of the table until he and Zega were across from one another. He placed either hand down on the smooth table, examining the exquisite drawings etched into the surface. The beasts of legend were scrawled out along the edges, hand carved by the finest woodworkers in the colony. The man’s gaze rose up from the artwork to meet Zega’s worried eyes.
“When you agreed to my terms, you knew there’d be risks.”
Zega clenched his fists, shaking under his ornamental red and blue robes. He looked into the mercenary’s black visor, seeing only his reflection. The man’s armor appeared sharper up close, as though even a grazing touch would slice open his hand. Zega wasn’t about to get that close to him.
“Death Wish,” Zega began, terrified of using his name. “Maybe we can—”
Death Wish interrupted him, pointing at his face, “Are you going back on our deal?”
The mercenary’s other hand had drifted to the holster at his right hip, his fingers grazing the handle of a chrome laser pistol. Zega’s bulbous eyes widened, his heart pounding against his ribcage. No one would be so brazen as to kill him. Everyone knew what kind of power he held. Still, Death Wish was an unknown entity. He didn’t care about station or how many people Zega had under his claws. His motives were a mystery. One thing, however, was certain. If there was one person in the Ansara System who had the guts to take him out, he was standing right there in front of him.
“Of course not,” Zega replied, voice shaking. “I would never.”
“I should hope not. With the information I just leaked, you’ll be rid of your Caretaker troubles shortly.”
Death Wish let his hand fall to his side. When the mercenary continued in his grating tone, his dark voice caused a shiver to crawl up Zega’s spine and his insides to turn to jelly.
“Your fate is in my hands. You’d be wise to remember that.”
10
Nix pointed out the blood stains to avoid on their way into The Sand’s Edge bar. He told the crew, “The Sickness spreads by contact with bodily fluids, possibly even from skin-to-skin. Careful what you touch.”
“Where is he?” Saturn demanded, her shaky voice stifled by her breathing apparatus.
“Upstairs, quarantined.”
Saturn started to make for the stairs but Nix gripped her upper arm tight. He shook his head and said, “I have a contact that is on his way. He’s a Dinari doctor who’s dealt with this before.”
“He won’t be able to help,” Astrid said softly, the sound barely escaping her mask, tinny and meek through her mask’s filter.
Saturn broke Nix’s grasp and lunged at her, grabbing the Ansaran’s cloak at her chest and lifting Astrid up onto the tips of her toes, fury winning out over the worry in Saturn’s eyes.
“What do you mean?” She seethed.
Astrid was struggling to speak when Ju-Long broke them up, the Ansaran regaining her footing and taking several steps back.
“That’s enough, Saturn,” Ju-Long said, his voice deadened as it fled his mask. “Astrid isn’t responsible for this.”
Ju-Long turned to Nix and continued, “But who or what is?”
Nix turned toward the stone bar and hung his head. His hands found their way onto the cold rock and his grip tightened on the edge of the flat surface. For a moment he wished he had
the strength to break off a chunk of the bar to quell his anger. It wouldn’t have helped, he thought. Physical strength was meaningless where the disease was concerned.
“It appears it was an assassination attempt. I saw it happen. A sick Dinari charged him as Liam was exiting a spire. The man fell down at Liam’s feet and when he knelt down to check on him it was too late, the Dinari had infected him with his blood.”
“What was Liam doing at a spire?” Astrid asked.
“And how did you see it happen?” Ju-Long added.
Nix turned and looked at Saturn empathetically, bracing her shoulders with both of his hands. There were several things he wanted to say, but none of them would be able to take back what had been done. There was no delicate way to go about the truth.
“I was keeping tabs on Liam. I followed him to the spire because I was worried about what Zega might be having him do. Liam delivered a large bag to someone at that spire. I don’t know what was in it, but it looked heavy.”
Nix released her and stepped back, shaking his head.
“I couldn’t stop it, Saturn. I’m so sorry.”
Saturn approached him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “There was nothing you could have done.”
“Saturn, I’m the one who killed the Dinari. I shot him dead. But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t fast enough.”
Saturn embraced him, holding him awkwardly as Nix’s body shivered. He continued darkly, “There’s something else.”
Saturn leaned back, holding him at arm’s length and scrutinizing his face with her glossy brown eyes. She asked, “What is it?”
“There was someone else there. He wore blue scaled armor that covered his entire body, but he was wearing a mask so I couldn’t see his face. He sped off on a hover bike right after Liam was infected. I spoke to Liam on the way back, and he confirmed he saw a blue blur speed away.”
Saturn said, “I’ve heard rumors of a hired gun floating around the colony since we returned from Narra. They say he’s a ghost.”
The Corsair Uprising Collection, Books 1-3 Page 37
