by Cheree Alsop
At Stone’s nod, Hyrin pressed a button.
“Captain!” Duncan said, his voice high with worry. “Two scavenger ships are inbound on your location. I’ve moved the Kratos to the opposite side of the planet to shield us from attack, but it’ll take the Gull longer to reach the ship. I’m not sure what to do.”
“Scavengers,” Stone growled. “I hate salvagers. Filthy vultures without morals or a conscience to cloud their judgement.” He motioned to the Gaul. “Jedredge, take Jenkin and Viarie to the ground. Set up a three-point alert. I want to know when those ships come into view.”
“Done,” Jedredge said with a nod of his huge head. He left the bridge with a speed that belied the huge Gaul’s size.
Stone turned to Devren. “You’re welcome to stay aboard my ship. We’re in this for the long haul. Keep the Kratos safe behind the planet. We can put aside our differences until the Omne Occasus is dealt with.”
Devren watched him closely. Liora knew he was trying to decide whether the rebel leader was trustworthy. None of them had much of a choice in the matter. If they could ban together, perhaps they would have a chance to survive.
It seemed Devren came to the same conclusion.
“Thank you,” the Kratos’ captain replied. He looked at the screen. “Officer Duncan, keep the Kratos hidden until we contact you. Maintain radio silence. If there is need for an emergency evac, you might have short notice.”
“Got it,” Duncan replied. “I’ll keep constant vigil on this channel. Kratos out.”
The screen went black.
Stone addressed Hyrin. “How long before you have the coordinates of the imploder?”
“It might take me a little bit. This message has a few glitches. Did you say you know the origin?”
“It came from Command Seven. They’re stationed near the Sculptor Dwarf Galaxy.”
“That might account for the magnetic interference. I’ll let you know when I have it cracked.” Hyrin centered his chair and started typing intently on the keyboard in front of him.
Stone motioned for them to leave the bridge. O’Tule and Shathryn stayed behind in case Hyrin needed anything.
“Take some time to clean up and rest,” Stone said.
“We can go back to the Gull,” Devren replied. “We’ll give your crew their space.”
“Nonsense.” Stone ran a hand through his long streaked hair. Sticky goop covered his palm when he pulled it away. He made a face. “We could all use a chance to shower. We have plenty onboard and you won’t be able to until you make it back to your Iron Falcon.”
Stone looked at the Kratos members. “You have plenty of reasons to distrust me and my family.” His gaze landed on Liora and his eyes narrowed slightly. “And I’ve plenty to distrust you. Keep together. While I can’t promise friendliness from my crew, they’ll be under orders to give your members their space. If there’s any trouble, let me know.”
“Thank you,” Devren replied. He watched Stone walk away down the hall.
“I don’t like this,” Tariq said quietly.
“Neither do I,” Devren admitted. “But we don’t have much of a choice. We can’t risk the Revolutionaries getting their hands on the Omne Occasus before us, and the best way to do that is to stick together. I don’t trust Stone any further than I can throw a haffot, but we’re here, so we’d better make the most of it.” He studied his crew. “Clean up in pairs. Guard each other’s backs. We’ll meet back here in twenty minutes unless Hyrin cracks the coordinates before that or we see signs of the salvagers.”
A girl with long blue tentacles instead of hair made her way down the hall. A male Ventican followed, his gray fur offset by tailored black armor.
“Captain Metis, Stone has asked me to escort you and your crew to the secondary lounge. Stone has ordered for the lounge and facilities to be emptied for your access.”
“I appreciate that,” Devren replied.
Liora glanced down every hallway they passed. The fact that they were in hostile territory wasn’t lost on anyone. The Kratos crew stuck together and moved in a tight-knit unit. Even the chance to clean up and rest after the long night didn’t chase away their caution.
“Here you are,” the girl said, indicating a common area with couches and an open door that revealed a clean washroom and branching shower area. “Stone also wanted me to let you know that he will have food sent over shortly.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Devren told her.
As soon as the door closed, Tariq and Straham maneuvered a couch in front of it. Tariq fell heavily onto the cushions.
Devren gave his friend a worried look. “You need medical attention.”
Tariq lifted his shoulders and couldn’t hide the wince the movement brought. “I’ll survive.”
“You should clean up. You look like you came from the belly of one of those worms.”
“I pretty much did,” Tariq replied offhandedly. “Let’s just say it realized its error in not relieving me of my weapons before it swallowed me.”
Straham gave a visible shudder. “That’s gross.”
“Or cool because you survived it,” Officer Veras, the other officer from the Kratos, said.
All three men gave him an incredulous look. Liora would have found their reaction amusing if she wasn’t so tired. The thought of showering off the slime and carnage that covered her and the chance to settle her nerves after the battle was one she couldn’t resist. She rose and made her way to the washroom. If the officers wanted to argue who went first, she would take advantage of the opportunity.
“What?” the young human said. “It’s not like you’re still in there. We survived.”
“We’re still fighting to survive,” Straham reminded him. “As it is…”
Liora chose one of the walled showers and stepped inside. Pulling the door shut behind her, she stripped off the clothes the Zamarian woman had given her on the Gaulded Zero Twenty-one. She was amazed to see that the Ventican cloth barely showed signs of the fierce battle. After the dozens of teeth and multiple stab attempts from the worms, Liora had been sure the armor was ruined.
As it was, only light grazes in the black shirt and pants showed where the armored clothing had saved her life. The bruises on her skin that coincided with the bite marks revealed how lucky she had been. Liora had vowed to repay the Zamarian for her kindness, but how did someone pay another back for saving her life and the others Liora was able to protect when she survived?
The hot water stung. Liora scrubbed her clothes until the last of the worm guts swirled down the drain. She hung the clothes beside her weapons and quickly washed in the water, aware that the other members of the crew would want to clean up as well. When she was done, she was surprised to see that the Ventican cloth was already dry. Pulling it on, Liora ran her fingers through her hair to straighten it out.
She felt like she could breathe again. It was as if washing off the guts and blood helped to erase that harsh edges of the memories from the night.
Straham and Veras already occupied two of the other stalls. Liora made her way back into the crew lounge.
Devren and Tariq sat at one of the tables. Both glanced up when she entered. She had the distinct impression that she had interrupted an intense discussion.
“You look like you feel a lot better,” Devren noted. He gave her a kind smile.
“I do,” Liora replied. “There’s something about hot water.” She glanced at Tariq and found him watching her. She closed her mouth without commenting how truly long it had been since she had set foot in a shower. Somehow, the vulnerability of such an admission was more than she wanted to admit in front of both men.
Liora sat on one of the couches. The soft cushions beckoned to her.
“Take a nap,” Devren suggested. “You saved lives today. Heroines deserve the chance to rest.”
A small smile touched the corner of Liora’s mouth. “It didn’t feel so heroic. I was covered in so many worm pieces I felt like I was one of them.�
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Devren chuckled. He leaned back in his chair, balancing it on the back legs like a child. It made him look younger, more carefree. Liora had no doubt every woman the captain encountered found him incredibly attractive. His dark eyes sparkled teasingly when he said, “Your knowledge of the tunnels was incredible. Are you sure you’re not part Terrarian?”
The thought of sharing kindred with the mole men from planet Tanus made Liora smile. “Unfortunately, no, but I’ll bet they would have had quite the feast today. At the circus, there was a Terrarian who ate whole plates of worms to amuse a crowd. He made quite the killing.”
Devren chuckled. “You do have a humorous side,” he said with a pleased expression. “I thought we’d get it out of you yet.”
Liora glanced at Tariq. The human watched her with his gaze guarded and expression unreadable.
Liora’s smile faded and she ran a hand over the couch cushion. It was becoming more beckoning than she wanted to admit. Damaclan training forbade her from letting down her guard around possible enemies, yet the Kratos crew members had fought and bled beside her. If she couldn’t trust them, she was alone in the world. She had been solitary long enough to admit that she didn’t want it anymore.
“I think I will take a nap,” she conceded.
She rolled over so that her back faced the men. Despite the angry protests of her instincts, she would rather risk getting stabbed than feel Tariq watching her as she slept. Guilt flooded her with the knowledge of how he would feel if he knew the truth.
Liora rested her head on one arm and closed her eyes.
The dream that swept her away took on a threatening edge the moment she fell asleep. Dark shadows raced beside Liora. She was a child again, running away from the nameless ones who had just destroyed her village. Blood showed in her footprints and tears for her fallen mother streaked her cheeks.
“Let her go,” a shadow hissed.
“She’ll bleed planets dry,” another whispered.
“More for us,” the first said. “Souls are not long for this universe.”
“Give her a blade.”
“Show her the way.”
“She’ll be the key to end it all. The girl from the stars; the girl without a soul.”
The last voice was louder. Its shadow appeared in front of her, looming, encompassing. Liora couldn’t stop running. Her feet took her inside the nameless one. She became lost in the shadows.
The dream shifted and Liora found herself standing in a hallway. Bloody footprints showed where she had walked from the door. The blood matched the fingermarks on the walls and the sound of a woman’s cries for help.
Liora didn’t want to go toward the sound, but her feet moved anyway. She tried to not look at the streaks of red below the pictures that lined the hallway, pictures that showed a young couple smiling at each other as they stood beneath the halos of white flowers on Isonoe, the Jupiter moon made popular for its marriage dome carved out of the interior.
Another photograph showed a young man with black hair and blue eyes smiling down at a newborn baby. The baby’s dark hair stood up, refusing to be cowed by the pink bow stuck to one side. The name Lissy was written in an elegant hand along the white bassinet. In the background, medical equipment and other babies could be seen. A green hand with a band around the wrist poked from inside the next bassinet.
Liora couldn’t tear her gaze away from the third frame. In it, the wife and husband watched their little girl play. Lissy was older now, her black hair a mass of curls as she chased butterflies inside an artificial terrarium. There was a smile of pure contentment on Tariq’s face as he held his wife close. Her head was on his shoulder; an expression of loving adoration showed in her gaze as she looked up at her husband.
Another cry tore Liora’s attention away. Unbidden, her feet carried her forward into the doorway of the living room.
The woman from the photographs cowered away from her attacker. In one corner, little Lissy sat with her knees pulled up and tears of fear streaking her cheeks. There was a red mark across her face as if she had been slapped.
“Leave them alone!” Liora yelled.
The Damaclan warrior didn’t seem to hear her. He advanced toward the woman. The blade of the bone knife he held glittered dully in the apartment’s lighting. Liora knew what it would look like when it was covered in blood. There was nothing she could do to stop the warrior or save Tariq’s family. Her feet were frozen to the ground and her shouts went unheeded.
The blade sunk deep into the woman’s stomach. The little girl gave a cry. Sobs tore from Liora. She wanted to save them. She wanted them to be alright. She wanted the Damaclan warrior to be dead like he was supposed to be; except the Damaclan was caught in Tariq’s memory and haunting her dreams, a living nightmare that would never stop plaguing her reality.
The Damaclan turned his head and met her gaze. “Liora.” His lips pulled back in the rictus of a smile, revealing blood-stained teeth.
“Liora.”
“No!” she yelled.
Hands grabbed her wrists.
Liora struggled. She knew her knife was on her hip. If she could just reach it—
“Liora! Stop!”
She opened her eyes.
Liora stared into Tariq’s blue gaze. Her left hand was pinned beneath them while her right fought to reach the blade. Tariq’s chest was bare and wet as if he had rushed out of the shower and only had time to pull on pants. A few drops of blood showed from the wound in his shoulder. His chest heaved as if he had fought a hard battle.
“You were having a nightmare,” he told her. He held her wrist for a moment longer as though worried letting go might mean his life.
The thought of the knife made Liora’s eyes sting. Tears welled up and streaked her cheeks before she could stop them.
Tariq’s expression softened. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice quieter. “You’re okay.”
He sat on the couch next to her and lifted his arm, pulling her to rest against his chest. His gentle fingers pushed her hair back from her face.
“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice a soft cadence. “You’re going to be just fine.”
Liora closed her eyes against another rush of tears. She had never felt so on the verge of losing control. It was too much. Being comforted in his arms after all that had happened overwhelmed her emotions.
“I know who killed your wife.”
Tariq had been softly wiping the tears from her cheeks with the backs of his fingers when her words stopped him.
His tone was a mixture of uncertainty and loss when he asked, “What did you say?”
Liora didn’t want to repeat what she had said. Every part of her being screamed for her to shut her mouth and accept his kindness. But she couldn’t face the guilt, and she wouldn’t live a lie.
She opened her eyes. “My clan killed your wife and child.”
Tariq’s muscles went rigid. He studied her face for a moment, his eyes searching hers as if willing himself to believe that it wasn’t true. There was pain in his gaze as if her saying the words had taken something valuable from him.
The truth was in her eyes and she couldn’t look away.
“Damaclan.”
The word was spoken as a curse.
Liora pulled back from Tariq.
“There’s no way,” he said, his voice level and deadly.
“The knife that killed her had the Tessari Dragon carved into the hilt, did it not?”
Tariq nodded without speaking.
“Only Damaclan chieftains carry such a weapon.” She didn’t want to say the next part, but she had already gone too far to go back. “The Damaclan who killed her had this clan tattoo on his neck.”
She swept her hair to one side and pointed to the tattoo just below her ear. It the symbol of her clan, a blade in the center of the Eye of Tessari.
Tariq rose slowly from the couch. The tenderness that had been in his eyes when he comforted her had vanished completely. His hands opened and cl
osed. Another drop of blood trickled from the wound in his shoulder, but he didn’t appear to feel it.
“Damaclan filth,” he growled. “Why are you here?”
“I’m a runaway like you,” Liora replied. His words stung. She knew it was the only reaction she could have expected, but she wished it was otherwise.
“You’re a murdering savage,” he spat.
“Tariq, I had to tell you,” she said. She took a step back in the face of his vehemence. “I couldn’t pretend.”
“You’re a liar and a coward.” Tariq stepped forward, following her retreat. His hands opened as if he wished to throttle her.
Liora took another step back. “I saved your life,” she reminded him, hoping he would calm down so she could reason with him.
“I’d rather have my wife and daughter here,” he replied, his blue eyes flashing with anger.
“I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I know you loved them. I know how much you cared about them.”
“How do you know?” he demanded in a yell. “How can you even begin to comprehend? You’re nothing but a merciless half-breed murderer.”
Liora’s legs met the back of another couch. Tariq’s hands closed around her throat. Muscle memory begged for Liora to punch him in the stomach, elbow him in the back when he bent over, and drive her knife into his kidney when he hit the ground, severing his artery so he would bleed out in a matter of seconds. Instead, she didn’t struggle.
Tariq’s hands tightened. Liora couldn’t draw in a breath. The rage she saw in his eyes matched the fury that had fueled her to dive into a cave of worms and slay hundreds of them in her search for him. She didn’t want to care for him, and she hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but fate was cruel and as merciless as he had accused her of being.
Black danced at the edges of her vision. She struggled to say his name, to calm him, but there wasn’t anything she could do. For the first time in her life, when she was faced with a fight, Liora gave up. She didn’t know if that made her a traitor to her clan, but given what the Damaclans had done, she didn’t want to belong to them anyway. As Tariq’s hold tightened, her only regret was that the one gentle thing in her life had been his same hands wiping away her tears.
