Renegades: Origins

by Kal Spriggs

  “Hello,” Ariadne forced some cheer into her voice. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he had merits, but of all the crew, he was the only one she knew viewed her and the others as prey capable of reason. Tasty prey, at that.

  “Ariadne,” Anubus growled. “I came to see you. Do you have a moment to talk?” He glanced down the hallway, almost as if nervous they would be overheard. His unusual attitude made Ariadne tense. Anubus was dangerous enough and if he wanted privacy…

  “Yes, I suppose so. Do you want to go somewhere or…” She frowned at the hesitation in his voice. She restrained her desire to open her mind to read his thoughts. For one, she did not want to see the world through his eyes. For another, she had tried to read aliens before, and the way their minds functioned made her head ache, especially those of the Chxor. Her little foray into Run’s mind earlier had given her a headache for a few hours. She didn’t know what she might find in Anubus’s mind, but she felt pretty certain she would not enjoy it. Humanity knew little about the origins of the Wrethe, but they had come to understand their psychotic level of aggression well enough. Ariadne had once heard Wrethe described as violent sociopaths and that description seemed apt enough from her own experience. From what she’d seen so far, Anubus seemed only a few heartbeats away from murder.

  “With the hatch closed, this is the most privacy we will find on this tiny craft,” Anubus said. The Wrethe hesitated, and if he were human, she would have thought he had paused to build up courage to speak. As it was, she wondered what might worry a Wrethe. “I found your abilities very impressive, back on the station. You are a very dangerous human.”

  Ariadne grimaced, “You’re talking about… what I did to those Chxor guards who attacked us?”

  “Exactly,” the Wrethe gave a sharp nod. His jaws moved up and down in front of her face in a motion very similar to a lunge. Only the solid metal hatch at her back prevented Ariadne from taking a step back. She couldn’t help the jolt of adrenaline as those teeth looked ready to rip her throat out.

  “Well, thanks, I guess,” Ariadne said, even as she tried to push back the memory of the Chxor engulfed in flames and control her own fear of Anubus. She felt a trickle of sweat run down her back. It itched terribly. She smelled something else then, it almost smelled like burning hair. Aw crap, get yourself under control, she thought, you are not going to lose it right now.

  Despite her focus on control, the temperature in the corridor started to heat up.

  “It is rare that a Wrethe finds someone as deadly as itself among the lesser species such as your own,” Anubus said. Ariadne held back a semi-hysterical giggle at his backhanded compliment. Anubus must find his status as a superior being so troublesome, she thought. “When that is the case, we often must test ourselves against them, to find their place. This often results in death, of course.”

  Ariadne felt her heart drop. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she almost let her power slip, even as she had a mental image of Anubus engulfed in flames. She restrained a semi-hysterical giggle as she thought, very pretty flames…

  “But obviously, your abilities and mine differ,” Anubus said. “Yours are those of the mind, and mine are those of stealth and physical strength. Therefore, I think we have an even match, but it is easy to see who would win under different circumstances. So I do not wish to fight you.”

  “What?” Anubus’s words came as she stood on precipice of her fear. She had almost stepped over the edge and given into her desire to light him up like a furry match. His words came as sufficient shock that she felt like he had doused her with a bucket of cold water. That gave her the break to lock down her powers again. She mentally stepped away from that abyss… reminded yet again at how close she stood to a transition into a terrible killer. She wiped at sweat on her forehead and saw he had cocked his head at her, almost as if he thought she thought it too bad they couldn’t fight. “Well that’s good, I mean. I don’t want to fight you. We gain nothing from it, and we can work together. Our abilities actually complement one another, in a way.”

  “I suppose,” Anubus said. He pulled his head in, almost as her words made him uncomfortable. “But what I wanted to ask, was if you could… teach me.”

  “Uh…” Ariadne swallowed. How exactly did she explain to him that he needed psychic abilities in the first place?

  “I see your confusion,” the Wrethe said. “I possess some minor psychic abilities, which I have not trained with much due to… personal reasons. I wonder if you could assist me.”

  “What?” Ariadne said, “I didn’t realize the Wrethe had any psychics.”

  Anubus gave her a broad grin, “It is not something that my species advertises. Many of us focus on our physical strengths, often at the cost of any inherited mental abilities. Individual Wrethe on occasion choose to sire offspring with psychic abilities to assist them, but inevitably, when they reach adulthood, there will be conflict.”

  “Is that your story?” Ariadne asked, “Did your… parents produce you to help them?” The thought intrigued her, that Anubus might have a similar story to hers. She remembered her foster family fondly, but she had always wondered about her true parents, even as her brother had asked her questions about them.

  “I killed the one who bred me,” Anubus said. “We self-reproduce, and use additional genetic material we gain from other species we consume to introduce genetic variation. He intended me to be his healer as a juvenile.”

  Ariadne blinked at that. So much for any similarity of background, she thought.

  Anubus continued to speak, “I possess what humans call Psi Beta abilities, I can intuitively manipulate anatomy, heal myself and others, and… do some other things.”

  “Wow, I never met someone with those skills,” Ariadne said. She had read about them, when she researched her own abilities, but the few books she found on the subject suggested it a rare area of natural talent. She thought it fascinating that the dangerous Wrethe had skills that could heal. “Have you tried to help out Eric, yet? Run did some good work on him, but if you could speed his healing, that would be great.”

  “Why would I do that?” Anubus stared at her with his dark eyes.

  “Uh, because it would be a nice thing to do?” Ariadne said.

  “He will heal on his own,” Anubus grunted. “I will not expose my abilities to others, not without benefit to myself. That idea is ridiculous. Besides, Eric is an idiot.”

  “…Okay,” Ariadne said. She wished she could think of a way to politely decline to help him. Truthfully the thought of a pyrokenetic Wrethe made her very uneasy. “Well, I suppose I can work with you. I recommend we do it later though, if you don’t mind. There’s no real room to work here, and if you find success, it might be dangerous in the close confines.”

  “Of course,” Anubus said. “I prefer to do it someplace we can find solitude as well.”

  “Good, well, I’m going to go check on the others, care to join me?” Ariadne forced herself to ask. She somehow doubted the others would feel very talkative with a two meter tall werewolf from space following her around, but she felt it polite to ask.

  “No, I prefer solitude,” Anubus said. “I also would prefer to avoid unnecessary confrontation and preserve my energy for seizure of a ship for escape.”

  “Alright,” Ariadne said. “I guess sometime-”

  “Anubus, my man!” A deep voice boomed. “There you are, I wondered where you got off to!”

  The overly loud voice startled Ariadne. She turned to face the speaker, then had to crane her neck to look up at him as he came closer. The three meter tall Ghornath had to hunch over to fit in the low corridor, but his leathery hide had tinted green, which if Ariadne remembered right, that meant he felt happy, or at least friendly. She had also learned that when he turned red, bad things started to happen.

  “Rastar,” Anubus growled.

  “Hey man, I wanted to let you know that I think we worked really good together, and you know, I think you’re a pretty good… wel
l, friend I guess,” Rastar said. He held out one of his four hands to shake. “What do you say to being partners?”

  “I say get your hand out of my face before I feed it to you,” Anubus growled.

  “Hey, no need to be so hostile, Annie,” Rastar said. “I know your tough guy outside is just an act, you know, because other people, especially humans don’t trust us big guys. But it doesn’t have to be like that between us, you know?”

  “I want you to know that your pathetic attempt to pretend friendship has not deceived me in the slightest,” Anubus growled. “As a matter of fact, I find it insulting that you think me so easily swayed. I will not let your act slow me in the slightest when you move against me.” Ariadne bit her lip at that, she really hoped Anubus did not think that the rest of them plotted his demise.

  “Uh, dude, that’s really not a healthy attitude,” Rastar said. “I mean, we should be allies, friends even. Two big aliens against the rest of the universe, you know?” Despite her nervousness, Ariadne nodded as Rastar echoed some of her own sentiment.

  Ariadne saw Anubus’s lips twitch and saw his sheathed claws extend and retract. Clearly Anubus found Rastar infuriating. She didn’t think the eruption of a fight to the death between the two of them would leave much left of the ship. “Hey Rastar!” She said cheerfully.

  “Oh,” Rastar looked over Anubus’s shoulder, “I didn’t see you there, Ariadne. How are you?” He shaded slightly yellow, “Uh, I hope you realize the whole thing about humans judging other races was meant as politely as possible.”

  “I understand what you meant,” Ariadne said with a smile. She saw Anubus had stopped twitching. She hoped that the Wrethe physiology mimicked Humans in that regard. She said a silent prayer that Anubus had himself under control. “Honestly, as a psychic I find myself as the target of some prejudice myself.”

  “Really?” Rastar asked. “I had heard something of the sort, but it seems silly to me. The Ghornath have few psychics, but those often become mediators and judges amongst my kind. You may have heard that the Ghornath have a slight reputation for impulsiveness at times?”

  Ariadne blinked at him, uncertain if he had made a joke or not. Ghornath had a reputation for extreme impulsiveness and many had temper issues to boot. In that last respect, Rastar seemed a perfect example at least.

  Evidently Rastar took her silence as assent, “Yeah, well, the handful of psychics among my race act to moderate that, especially among our young. Many psychics become teachers. I never got the opportunity to have a psychic teacher, but I have a lot of respect for your kind. Fortunately I have excellent control over my impulses, and I rarely completely lose my temper.”

  “Um, I almost hate to bring this up,” Ariadne said. She gnawed on her lip, “But you kind of exploded back on the station and nearly got us all killed because of a brawl that you started.” She remembered the fight vividly, if only because she had very nearly cut loose with her own powers until the Chxor guards showed up. She wasn’t sure whether Fontaine’s criminals deserved to live or die, but she didn’t want to be their killer.

  Rastar nodded, “Yeah, but if you’ll remember, I managed to avoid killing anyone.” He somehow managed to say it like he had carefully bludgeoned thugs and thrown men across the room with caution, Ariadne noted.

  “But they nearly killed us!” Ariadne said. She remembered how the Chxor guards had arrived and broken up the impending riot with aggressive force. “And the guards would have killed you if not for Run tranquilizing you with his little dart gun.”

  “Well, you know,” Rastar said with a broad shrug, “Sometimes you have to take the good with the bad.”

  Ariadne stared at him with shock. She felt too stunned to speak.

  “She does mention something that bothered me,” Anubus said. Ariadne looked at the Wrethe, who had cocked his jackal’s head as he studied the Ghornath. “You received several stab wounds during that brawl. You seem remarkably healthy now.”

  Ariadne frowned, “You know? He’s right. I remember when you fought that first group of Chxor guards one of them caught your side with a riot gun shot. You also took a couple of bullet hits when that Chxor Chief of Security had us pinned down, but you don’t even look wounded now.”

  “Also, when Eric triggered the explosive on the door to the administration offices, you stood near him,” Anubus said. “You took some shrapnel to the leg, yet you seem to walk without issue now. How do you explain your rapid healing?”

  Rastar looked between them. A flicker of colors washed across his body. He seemed pale when he answered, “Well, you know, Ghornath have a good metabolism, and I’m pretty young, I think I just heal quickly.”

  “From bullet wounds?” Anubus asked, and Ariadne could hear the incredulity in his voice. “And shrapnel… I can’t believe that your race is that tough. Maybe if you were a Wrethe, or if you were the product of some sort of genetic tinkering or prototype cybernetics.”

  Rastar went a bit pale for a moment and then he shaded green, “Hey man, you know, maybe you and I just share some pretty similar qualities. I mean, we’re both pretty tough…”

  Anubus growled. “I can see you will continue to play the imbecile. Do not think I will not find out your secret and take it from you.” He edged past the Ghornath, “And leave me be or I will see if I can find it in your entrails.”

  “See you later, Annie,” Rastar said as the Wrethe stalked away in disgust.

  “You know that if you push him to far you’ll have a fight on your hands,” Ariadne said nervously. She didn’t know which of the big aliens would win, but she did not want to be in the area when it happened. Especially if Rastar lost his temper in the process.

  “Oh, him?” Rastar said. “Nah, Anubus is a big softie, I bet he likes kittens and drinks hot chocolate.” He shaded a deeper tone of green, “Say, do you know anything about the food situation? I’m pretty hungry.”

  “You gave away your rations back on the station,” Ariadne said. She had thought it a pretty noble act at the time, though she wondered if it came of his impulsive nature or if he truly had felt for the other prisoners. Either way, it spoke well of his generosity.

  “Yeah…” Rastar’s hide darkened to blue. “I wish we could have saved more of them. I know how it feels to give up hope, especially in a place like that.”

  Ariadne sighed, “Me too. I grew up in a foster family, they were nice enough, but before them there were a series of orphanages… My brother and I had our experience of bad places.” Granted none as bad as the Chxor Penal Station, but rough enough for a child. “You grew up in refugee camps?”

  “Yeah, the Vega system and one on Tannis as well,” Rastar said softly. “You were orphaned, too?”

  “War orphan, at least my papers said that,” Ariadne nodded. “The Centauri Civil War, or Tau Ceti Separatist War, depending on which side talks about it.” She smiled then in memory of her adoptive parents, “My brother and I got lucky, we got a good adoptive family. A really nice older couple, they raised us like we were their own.” She remembered then that she had not sent them a message in weeks now, she hoped that they did not worry too much about her.

  Rastar rested a hand on her shoulder, “I had not realized we shared that bond. My family died on Ghornath Prime when Nova Roma invaded. My father actually served in the Fleet, he was a sensors officer. My mother served as a military nurse.” He sighed, “I don’t even have a picture of them, but it is good to know that they served my race well.”

  Ariadne patted the Ghornath’s big hand, she felt a little awkward at his touch. He had a strange smell, she realized, sort of like cinnamon and mint combined. His skin felt like smooth leather, warm and textured. “Well, my brother and I never learned the identity of our parents. It’s something that we both did a lot of research about. It’s rough not knowing… even when you have adoptive parents who love you, you still want to know where you came from.” Ariadne closed her eyes, “Especially when you develop psychic powers at a young age.”

/>   “Ah,” Rastar said. “Well, though our circumstances vary, I think that we share a common bond in this.” His hide went back to its normal brown color. “What happened with your brother?”

  Ariadne looked away, his presence suddenly felt invasive. “I don’t know, stuff happened back on Tau Ceti. We both had to run, and I lost him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rastar said. “I take it you search for him still? Well in that case, I insist that I will help you. Whatever help you need, I will be there. Family is important, and if I had a brother, I have no doubt you would help me to find him and welcome him as a friend as well.”

  Ariadne felt a headache come on as she imagined two of Rastar in the same place at the same time. I think that the universe might well implode at that level of potential destruction, she thought. “Um, thanks. I’ll let you know if I need your help. In the meantime, I’m going to go check on the others.” She frowned as she searched for some way to deflect his helpful nature. “Hey, you know, Mike mentioned he felt drowsy and might want some company to keep him awake, maybe you should see how he’s doing in the cockpit?”

  She felt a moment of guilt about her escape, but then she remembered that Mike had said he didn’t trust most of their companions because he did not know them. Well, she’d give him a better opportunity to get to know Rastar. Not that she didn’t like him, she admitted. He just seemed to take up a lot of space and time.

  “Hey, sure, I’d be glad to help,” Rastar said.

  “Well, I’ll just get out of your way…” Ariadne squeezed past him and continued down the corridor. She stopped when she heard the cockpit hatch close behind Rastar. Her hand dipped into her pocket and pulled out the small metal lighter she had put there. She pulled it out and stared at it for a long moment. The dented and scratched surface seemed so familiar, along with the inscription on the side: Aut Inventiem Viam Aut Faciam. The set of initials on the bottom, the only thing she knew about her father: BTM.