Talon the Raider

by A A Warren

  The machine lurched to a stop, and the hiss of hydraulic calipers filled the air. A series of explosive pops echoed around the machine, as support struts blasted into the rock beneath the towering cylinder. A panel slid open, revealing an opening between two sections of sloped armored plating.

  Talon glanced down at his belt. The last power cell beeped and glowed red. They were out of time… their belts were operating on emergency power reserves now. When those ran out, they would quickly freeze to death in the harsh environment.

  Vaki felt Talon’s muscles tense beneath her fingers. She gripped his arm tight. “Whoever is in there, whatever they want, it beats staying out here. We won’t last the night.”

  Talon lowered the axe. “I know,” he muttered. "But I don’t like it.”

  A trio of figures stepped down a small ramp and hopped onto the ice. They marched towards Talon and Vaki, wiping frost off their goggles and helmets.

  The lead man wore a heavy insulated vest over a thermal work-suit. Tubes ran along his legs and sleeves, pumping heated gel underneath the layers of insulation. He lifted a pair of goggles, revealing dark, sunken eyes, and tan, leathery skin. He was Aoshun, like Vaki, but much older. A patchwork of crow’s feet and liver spots surrounded his squinting eyes.

  A pair of security guards flanked him, each welding heavy pulse rifles. They wore battered dura-plas armor, covered by worn insulation capes. Fully charged enviro-belts glowed at their waists. Their helmets vented puffs of steam from grill slits along the back, and tinted visors hid their faces. Talon couldn't tell if they were human or alien underneath their armor. Aoshun symbols decorated their chest plates, but he didn't know what they stood for.

  “Vatahem daresu du kar?” the dark eyed man demanded, stabbing at the air with his finger for emphasis.

  Vaki stepped forward and gave a brief bow. “Jagashi hamaeha Vaki esu.” The man glared back at her in silence. She blinked, then gestured towards Talon. “This is my associate, Talon,” she said, speaking in Standard Galactic now. “Our vessel suffered some… malfunctions. We had problems with the portal drive in our lifeboat and drifted here. We were seeking shelter and found a beacon here, in this cavern.”

  The man stared at her for a moment, still silent. Then he pivoted and glared at Talon, looking the taller man up and town. “Associate, huh? You look like hired muscle to me.”

  “I’m her personal pilot,” Talon said. He forced himself to smile, but he glared at the man with his glowing red eye.

  A guard leaned forward and muttered something in the older man’s ear. He nodded and tapped the ice with his foot. Then he glanced up at Talon. His face seemed to relax, and he offered a brief, cautious smile.

  “My name is B'turo. And you’re both damn lucky we found you. This zone is off our standard ore run, but the dorokuma have been acting up lately. Their seismic activity is throwing off our sensors, so we diverted here to investigate.”

  “Dorokuma?” Talon asked. “You mean those worms?”

  The man nodded. “That's what we call them. Means 'ice demons'. They excrete a super-heated saliva that can melt through ice, and even loose rock. Then they tunnel through using some kind of focused sonic beam. The little ones are bad enough, but you piss off a mama, and you can kiss your rushiri goodbye.”

  “The small ones were attached to some people… dead bodies,” Vaki said, gesturing to the wreckage left behind them. “But they moved. They—”

  “Yeah,” the man said and nodded, then blew a puff of mist into the air. "Stalkers. The larva burrow into corpses, melt the frozen blood and flesh for nutrients. Somehow these hatchlings plug into a body's central nervous system and take control.”

  He glanced at his wrist display. "Look, we’re behind schedule as it is. We have to get back to base. You best come on in, before those belts of yours run out. Temperature drops fast here at night. You’ll freeze solid by morning if you stay here."

  “Many thanks,” Talon said, glancing at the two guards as they fanned out, flanking the tiny group. B'turo stomped the snow off his boots, then marched up the ramp. Talon and Vaki followed.

  “As Vaki said, our lifeboat suffered navigation problems,” Talon said, calling after the old man. “Where exactly are we?”

  B'turo stopped and looked over his shoulder. “This was uncharted space a few decades ago. Then the Toho Clan purchased the system and all mining rights. Now the star charts list this planet as Neros. But me? I call it Jivo.”

  “Jivo? What does that mean?” Talon whispered to Vaki as they followed the man into the dark, humming interior of the ore-slicer.

  Her eyes darted towards him with a nervous glance. “It’s an Aoshun word,” she whispered back. “In our legends, Jivo is the Land of the Dead.”

  The metal door clanged shut behind them, sealing them in the cavernous vehicle with a loud hiss.

  Chapter Ten

  The woman was naked. Her skin was as pale and white as the frost that clung along the edge of the window before her. Her lustrous hair was only a shade or two darker, a silvery platinum blonde. It was laser cut and fell in a long, shimmering line down her back, glimmering like a cryocite blade in the light from outside.

  Beyond the circular window, the sun fell behind the jagged glaciers and distant snowcapped peaks. The colossal, gnarled ice formations glowed a deep turquoise blue, back-lit by the dying rays of the hazy white star. Soon, the bitter chill of night would swallow the last vestiges of daylight. The sky would turn black as velvet, and the moon would bathe the frigid landscape in a pale silver glow.

  This was her favorite time. She knew in her heart this frozen wasteland was a place of exile for her, a prison, to keep her locked away from her rightful destiny. But at sunset, the ice burned with a blue fire, and the air was sharp and clear as glass… For these few minutes each day, it was as if she was gazing across a planet of diamonds. Brilliant. Flawless. A glimpse of perfection frozen in time.

  As the rays of light shifted across the portal, she caught a reflection of herself in the transparent circle. She touched her cheek, running her fingers across an almost invisible ridge of hardened tissue, like a scar. Even in the faint, translucent image of her reflection she could see it. A flaw… An imperfection.

  A chime rang through the room. She pulled herself away from the view outside and clapped her hands. A servant mech hovered through the air, its lifter field powering it forward with a quiet hum. A robe of diaphanous black silk hung from its manipulator arms, and the floating machine draped the garment over her shoulders. Swirling patterns of crystal shimmered in the fabric. Their facets reflected the light from outside, surrounding her body in dancing blue fire. With long, languid strides she made her way to a hovering platform, suspended in the center of the room. As she walked, she lifted a glass of clear, bubbling wine to her lips and drank.

  “Enter,” she said. Her voice held the firm, calm tone of one used to being obeyed.

  A pair of doors hissed open, and a towering humanoid figure marched towards her. He was bare from the waist up, and a layer of fine scales covered the rippling muscles of his chest and abdomen. Like the woman’s robe, the diamond shaped interlocking scales reflected the glow outside the window, changing color from blue to an iridescent green as he crossed into the light.

  A breathing mask covered the lower half of his face. Long, slender tendrils flowed from the top of his head like hair. They were gathered in a top knot, and fell behind him in twin braids.

  He stood before her and crossed his left arm over his chest. The limb was severed just below the elbow. A metal band ran around the edge of the stump, surrounding a circular lens that capped the impaired limb. He bent forward in a stiff bow, then stood at attention.

  “Queen Katara,” he said, his voice a bubbling rumble through the mask. “I have a report from one of our patrols. The news is… troubling.”

  The woman rolled her head back, stretching the muscles in her pale, slim neck. She turned and gazed at him with her dark Aoshun eyes. As she
moved, her robe shifted and parted, revealing glimpses of her voluptuous body.

  Makor was Isonian, an aquatic species. His round, unblinking yellow eyes could be difficult to read, but she knew him well enough to spot the signs of his discomfort. The way he shifted his weight side to side, the soft gurgling of his breath, speeding up through his hydro-mask. And most of all, the way he tucked his injured limb behind his back…

  He’s hiding his weakness from me, she thought, He too is ashamed of his flaw…

  She took a long sip of wine, gazing at him from the corner of her eye. Then she took a few steps towards him. She smiled and pulled the robe closed.

  “Forgive me Makor. I was not expecting company. Now, what is this report of yours?”

  Makor coughed. The wet, slurping noise echoed through the slits of his breathing apparatus. “We dispatched an ore-slicer to sector 13, near the crash site. Seismic disruption there indicated dorokuma activity.”

  The woman cocked her head. “What of it?”

  “The crew found two wanderers, both human. An Aoshun woman, and a man she claims is her pilot. They say their lifeboat malfunctioned and strayed off course.”

  “Out here?” she asked in a breathy voice. “We’re nowhere near any of the normal shipping lanes. Did you do a blood scan?”

  Makor’s large yellow eyes shimmered, as an inner membrane slid across them, then disappeared. “Yes, my Queen. But the results were inconclusive.”

  With his right hand, he slid a holo disk from his belt and presented it to her with another quick bow. Royal etiquette dictated that he should have offered it to her grasped in both hands. But given the circumstances…

  She snatched the disk from his hand and pressed a jeweled button in the center. A shimmering image of a young, attractive woman hovered in the air. She had dark hair, and a purple braid. A series of files flashed next to the spinning image of her face. Smaller mug shots flickered in the air, and the words ‘CRIMINAL RECORD’ flashed in red.

  Katara took another sip of wine. “Well, well. Someone’s been a naughty girl.”

  “The girl’s name is Vaki Natomo. There's a processing delay on her blood scan data. But facial recognition identified her as a Consortium citizen with a criminal record. Smuggling, illegal food exports, trade license infractions. Minor offenses.”

  “Poor thing hasn’t learned how to bribe the right people,” Katara purred. She flicked the image aside with a waving motion. Another hologram glowed to life above the disk. Katara sucked in her breath.

  The disk projected the hologram of a tall, muscular male human. As the image spun in the air, she gazed at his firm jaw and broad shoulders. A tousled mane of brown hair framed his handsome face and intense stare… One eye as dark as hers, the other a glowing crimson orb.

  A large tattoo snaked across the man’s expansive chest… A green dragon’s claw, poised to strike.

  She took another sip of wine, then licked her lips. “Quite a work of art.” She glanced up at the scaled alien. “The tattoo, I mean. The style looks almost like the Kujita’s clan markings.”

  Makor nodded. “It is an older style, my Queen, but a similar technique.”

  “Who is he?”

  The alien coughed again. “His blood scan yielded… unusual results.”

  She tilted her head. “Unusual? What do you mean?”

  “There is no information on file. All records appear to have been erased. We think he may be a Dominion citizen, but it's impossible to say for sure.”

  “Interesting,” she said. “A soldier from the war?”

  Makor shook his head. “He’s no centurion, I’ll bet all my shares on that. Hired muscle maybe. Or perhaps a gladiator.”

  The woman laughed. “An old acquaintance? Do you recognize him from your days in the Dominion’s arenas?”

  The membrane slid across the alien’s eyes again. His yellow orbs bulged slightly, and she knew she had aroused his anger. She smiled.

  “If I had met him in the arena,” Makor hissed, “he would be a dead man.”

  The woman waved her hand over the disk, and the image disappeared.

  “Bring him to the octagon. We’ll see if you’re right.”

  The scales beneath Makor’s eyes shimmered as his wide nostrils flared. “It would be an honor to slay this outsider for your pleasure, my Queen.”

  She stared at the rotating hologram. Her pupils seemed to dilate as her eyes drank in the image of his chiseled body…

  “No,” she said in a breathy voice. “Have him face Gajoro. He was a Kujita once. That should provide us with adequate entertainment.”

  “My Queen, Gajoro is a drunken fool, he is unworthy to—”

  A soft chime rang out, cutting off the alien’s words. Katara smiled. She set down the wine glass and spun around.

  “Patience, Makor. I want to take a measure of this man before I decide his fate. He could prove useful to us.” She turned and glanced at him over her shoulder. “It’s time for my treatment. Did you round up the workers I requested?”

  Makor stiffened, then gave her a quick bow. “Of course, my Queen.”

  Katara watched as he glanced up at her. The alien’s eyes bulged wider, but he said nothing as she shrugged off her robe. The shimmering silk puddled on the cold metal floor behind her. She heard the sharp hiss through the alien’s breathing mask as he sucked in his breath. She knew how to provoke him, knew how to draw out this game between them, to prolong her enjoyment.

  She knew her body was perfect… flawless.

  Almost, she thought. Almost flawless. But like a broken bone, my flaw will give me strength. And when I return…

  “Excellent,” she said. Her voice rose in pitch, dripping with anticipation. “Let me see them.”

  Makor tapped another button on the disk. A hum filled the air… three clear cylinders slid down from the ceiling and touched the floor. Within each tube, a naked human pounded on the glass walls, their frantic cries silenced by the thick, curved glass. There were two men and one woman, all middle aged. One of the men had a long, scruffy beard, crusted with mud and dirt. The woman’s flesh sagged with age and malnutrition. She held an arm across her chest, as she pounded a fist against the transparent walls.

  Katara approached her tube. She tapped her long black nails across the curved walls of the cylinder. “Their productivity scores?” she hissed.

  “The lowest in their sector, My Queen. Considering the additional manpower you have acquired, our output will not be affected by their… absence.”

  “Excellent. They have failed their queen. Now they will serve me in a new capacity. Begin the procedure.”

  Servo motors at the ends of the tubes hummed to life, tilting the massive cylinders back at a forty five degree angle. In each tube, a metal ring slid along the inside, locking into place halfway down the clear cylinders. The rings emitted a droning whine. They began to spin around the people trapped inside… slowly at first, then faster and faster. The drone became a high-pitched whine, as the gyrating rings projected a glowing energy field around the frantic prisoners.

  Katara stepped away from the cylinders. She leaned backwards, but did not fall down. An invisible lifter field supported her, allowing her to hover prone in the air. Her long, thick hair whipped behind her like silver fire. The anti gravity field bore her aloft, lifting her higher into the air.

  Inside the tubes, the whirling energy nipped at the prisoners’ flesh. Their eyes were wide with panic, and their mouths gaped in silent screams. Their flesh began to dissolve and whirl around them, torn apart by the spinning bio-harvester fields. The woman slammed her palm against the transparent walls one last time before her arm disintegrated into a blur of swirling red dots.

  The howl of the spinning bio-harvester reached a deafening pitch. The three prisoners vanished into a cloud of red mist. Katara closed her eyes, and ran her fingers through her shimmering hair. Glowing blue circles appeared on her arms and legs, another line of circles down her chest and abdomen.

>   “You may leave now, Makor,” she moaned. She turned to face him, her eyes wide and dark. Her lips parted as she anticipated the ecstasy that was to come. “Unless you prefer to watch.”

  The alien stared her with his unblinking yellow eyes. He stood mesmerized, transfixed by the image of her hovering naked body. Her words seemed to break his trance. He bowed his head. “Very well, my Queen. I await further instructions.”

  Makor pivoted and marched out of the chamber, as Katara sucked in a hissing breath. A shower of red slime sprayed down upon her from vents in the ceiling. The liquid clung to her skin and streamed through her hair. The patter of the falling droplets filled the air as the liquid pooled beneath her. It was reclaimed by a series of vents in the floor, and pumps circulated it through the chamber to rain down upon her flesh again.

  The thick fluid moved in trails and streams across her writhing flesh. The glowing circles were bio-portals. They drew the liquid, and the vital elements it contained, directly into her body’s cells. Protein, Amino acids, DNA fragments, telomeres… Every particle of useful material in the prisoners' flesh had been processed and re-synthesized for easy absorption.

  She ran her hands across her slick flesh, caressing her skin as the fluid soaked into her. She reached up and touched her cheek… the scar tissue was gone. Only smooth, pale flesh remained beneath the crimson sheen.

  Perfection…

  She imagined returning home and putting those who had wronged her into the bio-harvester tubes. The procedure could take longer, she knew. The machines could be set to harvest organic material at a slow, agonizing pace. They could peel away skin and flesh molecule by molecule, if she desired.

  They will live, she thought. They will live to see their bodies consumed to feed my power. After they have served their purpose…

  She threw back her head and laughed as her flesh drank in the last few droplets of red.

  Chapter Eleven