Branwen put such thoughts away as they neared her ship and she saw what could only be her prospective passengers. A cluster of nicely-dressed young girls stood around chatting politely amongst themselves, but Branwen saw that they held a plethora of boxes, garment bags, and suitcases; she recognized porters when she saw them, and her interest wasn’t in them. The other two individuals were an entirely different matter. They were a mismatched pair; one was a graceful, beautiful Altairan female of average height, and the other was a rough, strong-looking woman at least as tall as Branwen herself.
Well, I believe I know which one is from the Kalaset. The Kala was, as expected, absolutely beautiful. Branwen wasn’t even sure it was possible to exaggerate her appearance; from what she could see, the woman was totally flawless, not a single hair out of place. Her exotic, silver and white robes accented the medium undertones of her skin, contrasted the pitch-black hair, and set off her gold-flecked brown eyes perfectly. Her movements, her poise, the expressions on her face all suggested to Branwen someone in complete control of the persona they allowed the world to see. Varied but subtle accenting jewelry, fancy open shoes, and a vestigial umbrella completed the presentation. Branwen could completely understand how impressive the Kalaset must seem to most people.
Her companion was obviously a bodyguard, or at least someone whose occupation was to look for trouble, and she also cut an impressive figure. Her build was thinner than Branwen’s, but she would have bet on those corded muscles being just as strong if not stronger. She wore a dark shirt with the sleeves torn free, above heavy, worn pants with lots of pockets, but no visible weapons. Part of her multi-hued hair was missing, presumably on purpose for the intimidation effect, and the rest either stood up or was brushed to the side. She didn't have much in the way of feminine curves, but her relaxed pose belied a coiled serpent, a real predator, and her hazel eyes were sharp with intelligence. Branwen didn’t know how capable this woman actually was, but she realized instinctively that she was the dangerous sort.
“Merlo, head on inside and get the Destiny prepared to fly, please.”
Merlo missed a step, but recovered and was immediately walking alongside her Captain again. “Just like that, Captain? Before talking to them? What if it’s a no go?”
Branwen gave her an amused smile. “We can always turn the engines back off, Merlo. Not much lost.” She put a hand on the girl’s shoulder again, glad to see that the companionship and return trip had mellowed her sorrows into minor melancholy. “This woman is important. If she wants to leave immediately, then I want to be ready to leave immediately as well. This could be a profound opportunity for us.”
“If you say so, Captain.” Branwen felt she hadn’t done a very good job at all of explaining the Kalaset to Merlo, and wondered if Mr. Leonard could possibly do better. No, that is an awful idea. Perhaps Zimi instead.
As they arrived, Merlo split off and headed up the ramp and into the bowels of the Destiny, looking over the prospective passengers as she did so. Branwen appreciated that she had the social graces to at least spare a polite nod for the pleasant smile the Kala gave her as she passed. The bodyguard noticed the look-over and gave Merlo a wide, crooked smile in return, an expression caught in some strange territory between a grin and a sneer. But Branwen wasn’t here for her, but for her employer.
“Pardon me, but I am Branwen Hawke, the captain of the Destiny Abounds. My crew informs me that you wanted to meet with me, and I apologize for talking so long. I understand you are in a hurry.” Straight and to the point is what Branwen herself would prefer if she was on business of great import, so that’s what she gave the Kala.
“Captain… Hawke. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The Kala’s musical, lilting voice was enchanting as she smiled graciously up at Branwen. “I understand, of course. You could hardly have known that a job would suddenly appear like this, much less one that required such haste.” Behind her, the tall bodyguard yawned widely, as if bored.
“Well, if you will let me know the nature of your business and the destination, we can leave immediately. Assuming, of course, the pay and everything is in order for such. Usually we make our living running cargo, not individuals, and our hold is currently empty. It makes for a less profitable base journey.”
She smiled an impeccable, charming smile up at Branwen. The woman really was impressively beautiful, and she carried herself like a lady. “Of course, Captain. You needn’t worry about compensation. I am on Kalaset business, so you can rest assured that it will be made well worth your while.”
Branwen took in a breath, crossing her arms and trying her best not to offend. “Your pardon, Kala, but anyone could say those things. I would feel more comfortable if I were more assured of it from the beginning.”
The Kala blinked once, her face too perfectly serene for Branwen to read any more than that. Behind her, the other woman barked a short, startling laugh before lighting one of those thin, pale cylinders that some people seemed to enjoy smoking out here instead of decent, perfectly functional pipes.
“You know, Captain,” the Kala said, garnering Branwen’s full attention again immediately, “Most would not question the suggestions of a Kala so.” She lowered her head for a moment, looking down and searching through a small handbag previously concealed in a voluminous sleeve.
“My apologies, Kala, but I am not most people. And I have a crew, and a ship, to care for.”
Despite Branwen’s concerns, the Kala lifted her face once again, this time with a sunny smile that virtually radiated warmth. “Actually, I find that admirable, Captain.” She handed over what had to be the smallest datapad Branwen had ever seen, and Branwen took it. Its face showed a certainly worthy amount of credits, and she attempted to look it over without giving away that she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing with it. “I need to go to Kepa’ohalei, and the Atelier there, as soon as humanly possible. I have a message that must be delivered there in person, and time is of the essence. I understand that leaving without filling your holds would be costly for you, so I have adjusted the offering accordingly. I trust that is enough to base your decision upon?”
Still attempting to pretend familiarity with the tiny datapad, Branwen nodded. “That is most considerate. I will not doubt you further, Kala. If that is all you need, and this is your offer, I would be glad to have you. How many of your people are coming aboard?” Praise her faithful crew, because as if on cue, the Destiny’s internal engines thrummed to life, vibrating through the occupied landing area and the pit of her stomach. The Kala’s guard kicked off of the side of the Destiny in seeming response and stretched, flexing her impressive, tightly toned musculature.
Kala Sirrah laughed vibrantly in response to Branwen’s query, covering her mouth politely as she did so. “Oh, just me and my companion.” She nodded her head ever so slightly to indicate the violent-looking individual loitering aimlessly behind her. “The others are temporary help, hired to load my belongings in a timely manner, and then they shall depart. Assuming that is acceptable, of course.”
Branwen smiled and extended an arm. “Of course. You have yourself a deal, then. I will show you to your quarters, and you can get settled. We will then leave immediately.”
“Excellent. I am Kala Sirrah Nazai, of the Altairan Atelier.” In defiance of all of Branwen’s expectations, Sirrah clasped her arm in a Fade-appropriate, if very gentle, fashion. Seeming to note the surprise that crept into Branwen’s features, the demure Kala merely smiled.
Branwen gave her arm a gentle squeeze and shake, then released it. “I cannot assure you that our accommodations are anything comparable to what you are used to, Kala Sirrah.” She began to lead them into the Destiny, followed closely by Sirrah, then the small crowd of temporary attendants, and finally trailed distantly by the tall bodyguard.
“Oh, I assure you, I’ll manage. Such things don’t bother me as much as one might expect.” She closed her small umbrella and stepped up to Branwen, unexpectedly taking her arm. Branw
en belatedly realized that something like that was probably proper manners here. Besides, she’d never minded having a beautiful woman on her arm; in fact, it had actually been quite a while since she’d had the pleasure. The Kala smiled that charming, amused smile up at Branwen again. “And you may simply call me Sirrah, as well. I insist.”
Branwen nodded as they went up the stairs, Sirrah directing her attention outward and coolly taking in her surroundings. In the distance, Branwen noticed both Zimi and Mr. Leonard peeking around the corner leading to Zimi’s room. No doubt getting a polite and comfortable look at the newcomers.
“Very well, Sirrah. Here are your quarters.” She positioned Sirrah only a couple of rooms down from the rest of the crew, bending to press her hand to the annoyingly low contact panel that bid the door slide open for them. “I hope you and your woman enjoy your voyage aboard the Destiny Abounds.”
CHAPTER TEN
A Volatile Package
Sirrah
Sirrah glided around her new room, placing the last of her intricately carved incense candles. Next was the collection of tiny, Kepo-made pottery vases; perhaps after that she might set out one of her Mizarian tea sets, or perhaps hang some more of the sheer crimson and amber cloth pieces that draped from the ceiling and shaped the room more to her liking. Her only regret so far was the lack of furniture, with only a single standard bed, a pair of simple yet comfortable chairs, a small, cloth-covered covered table and a chest-high dresser to her name at the moment.
“Uggggh. What are you even doing?” Prisoner 286 drawled and drew out the words, seeming to indicate with the intonation how bored she was. Just like she had been doing for the last half hour. It was beginning to sound almost like whining, though despite what anyone might assume, Sirrah was actually quite sane and would never say that to the woman’s face.
286 flopped bonelessly around, occupying the solitary chair and putting on a show of being unable to get comfortable. Even after weeks in her company, Sirrah still couldn’t reliably judge which of the things 286 did that were acts, and which weren’t. Remarkable, considering that seeing the truth behind such things was exactly what Sirrah had trained for her entire life to be able to assess. Of course, in 286’s case, she felt it had more to do with the woman being a diagnosed sociopath than any skill at manipulation. Though it was hard to tell the difference between which emotions 286 was incapable of understanding, and which she simply chose not to. Even for a Kala.
“We’re only gonna be here for what, a damn week? No need to mark your territory. You’re only gonna have to take all that shit down again in a few days.” Sirrah merely smiled, gently and with overtones of honest amusement. 286 didn’t actually bother her, for the most part, despite everything. Which was probably a big contributor to why their relationship was actually working. She had no doubts that if Prisoner 286 saw that her actions bothered Sirrah, she would press on that weakness as surely as one might viciously press on a open wound.
In the end, she didn’t agree with the warped worldview 286 possessed, but she did honestly want to help her, which was much more important. And somehow, she helplessly liked her. Sirrah had always felt that you could love most people, if you were willing to look for the lovable parts in them. The thought bid to widen the smile already on her face, and she let the emotion through.
“It doesn't matter.” Sirrah looked over at her “roommate,” calmly noting her now upside down position in the chair as she went back to the suitcase to fetch yet another miniature vase. “It’s about appearances, and comfort, and the Kalaset’s set of—”
“Blah blah blah, ridiculous standards. Yeah, I know, you said it before.” Sirrah let the woman cut her off and run away with the conversation. There really wasn't much that would stop her, anyway. “But aside from it being utterly pointless, more importantly, it’s really boring me.”
Sirrah continued to float about her room, organizing and decorating, but her mind was alert now. She’d heard one of the vocal patterns she’d termed “warning tones”: those sounds 286 got in her voice when her mood was turning dangerous. Those were the times when she needed to be placated, or preferably, redirected; despite having been able to sustain a comfortable relationship with 286 longer than Sirrah imagined anyone had expected, it made the arrogant criminal no less dangerous. Even to her. Perhaps especially to her.
Outwardly, she just sighed, allowing 286 to see her mild resignation. “What would you have me do about it? I’d be happy to talk with you more, but you said you were bored of that, too.”
“Yeah, well, can’t help that,” the other woman quipped in return. “Only so much of that a person can take, you know?” The commentary never bothered Sirrah, either. She had a suspicion that some of it, at least, was for show. Or, more likely, a test of her resolve. After all, she suspected that 286 still saw Sirrah as her jailer, someone to poke and prod and sniff out weaknesses in. Or perhaps that was just how she was. No one alive, save 286, truly knew.
“Holovids?”
“Nope.”
“Exonet?”
“Bored of it.”
“A novel?”
“Bleh. No thanks.”
“What about some more exercise? I don’t mind.” Though she hesitated to suggest it, as sometimes 286’s exercise “accidentally” involved her delicate, breakable decor.
“You kidding, woman? I was born in great shape.” Despite what she said, 286 actually spent a decent amount of time exercising, mostly her Kinetics. Normal isometric exercises would be near-useless to Prisoner 286 for some time, her muscles being used to the heavy gravity of Urebai.
“Then what do you want to do? Can I help?” If she could help 286 be happy, she was all for it. She wanted her to be happy, and not just because she was theoretically less dangerous that way than when she was bored.
Flipping herself back upright in the chair, 286 grinned toothily at Sirrah, strongly enough Sirrah could practically feel it with her back turned.”Hey, I could step out for a bit.”
Inwardly, Sirrah tensed. 286 was testing her again. Previously, she’d agreed to stay mostly to their room, but Sirrah had honestly never expected it to last. Still, it had only been a day. “I thought you agreed that staying here with me would be fine?” Sirrah had ways of influencing, perhaps even controlling, Prisoner 286, but paradoxically, she didn’t dare use them. Not just out of fear, either. If she ever used such methods, everything she was attempting to achieve, all of her plans, would be ruined.
In the end, Prisoner 286 would never be controlled, not really. She’d told Sirrah as much, once, something that raised a plethora of questions in Sirrah’s mind. Much was unknown about Prisoner 286. She knew the basics, everything that the Altairan officials had ever been able to glean. She wondered what more there was to it, what had happened to the woman to make her like she was now.
Prisoner 286 had first been picked up on Urzra, her supposed homeworld, for being entirely too powerful and destructive for the local authorities to handle, all while she was still in her teens. Through the Altairan treaties, the Urzrans had shipped her off to the Altairan-managed prison world, Urebai. She’d stayed there for a year or so until she came of age, working off her light sentencing and saving money from labor for when she got a second chance from Altair.
When that time came, she was freed. During her stint on Urebai, 286 hadn’t caused much trouble, not enough to draw major Altairan concern, though she reportedly had a habit of intimidating her fellow prisoners and taking their rations. Once she left, however, it became a different story altogether. Within the year, she was already on Altair’s most wanted list once again for multiple cases of violence, injury, massive property damage, and even killings. She never left that list again.
Over the years, almost a decade’s worth, the Altairan government tried to repeatedly capture 286 and bring her to justice. Sometimes they succeeded, but never for long, especially in the beginning. Eventually they managed to send her back to Urebai, where she would become one of the few
to ever escape. Twice. Then they incarcerated her in the Abyss, a jail for the worst of the worst, located at the bottom of a trench in the deepest ocean on the prison world. Incredibly high security, where no one had ever come close to escaping.
She had escaped it twice, too. Sirrah didn’t like to dwell on that side of it, but she had been made acutely aware of the damage and lives lost due to 286’s rampages. The Legion had even formed a Volunteer Kinetic Corps partially for the purpose of having someone willing to attempt to capture her, a job deemed too dangerous to task typical Legion personnel with.
Once, the woman had used her Kinetic ability to warp herself to a location to translocate from one spaceship, where she was restrained and currently in transit back to Urebai, to another passing vessel that she saw through the window. One ship was nearly destroyed and the other was heavily damaged. In the end, she had escaped. Now she was Sirrah’s charge, and she didn’t dare take the clever, dangerous felon lightly.
Unfortunately, other than these few facts that were from actual Altairan experience with her, little was known about 286’s past. She was notoriously tight lipped about it, usually telling people that she “didn’t remember,” when she wasn’t telling different evaluators different sets of believable but contradictory information. Sirrah could believe that 286 had no memory of her origins, but she hadn’t decided whether to accept it as the truth or not. Altair, as a rule, didn’t believe in torture or anything that violated basic sentient rights, and they believed that just about anyone was capable of being reformed. Sirrah also knew that Prisoner 286 was one of the very, very few who had stretched those beliefs to their limits.
Destiny Abounds (Starlight Saga Book 1) Page 18
