by Greg Dragon
“Take your time and get yourself together, Marian,” Marika said, her voice taking on an authoritative tone. “Go see your people on Tyhera and get back into the culture there. That way when we move, you will know more about the enemy than just a bunch of memories. I will blink back when we’re ready and talk to Rafian. I will get Val to help me convince him too, so that he knows it is more than you putting me up to this.”
Marian stared forward and put her hands on her knees, then nodded slowly to confirm Marika’s words.
“You know that he will move the universe for you, Marian VCA, so I wish that you would drop the victim act for a few, humble up and get him here. Your people need you and they need our skills,” Marika said, waiting for a reaction from Marian. When none came, she reached over and took her hand again. “Look, Rhee, Rafian will come when I tell him that you are here. But you must promise me that you will be ready.”
“I will be ready, Marika. I promise you,” she said.
“Okay, but just make sure that when I do jump back in, it will not be to a frozen rock like this one, okay?”
Memory 2
It started with an argument, an objection to the status quo, then the demand for exclusivity, and finally—when things seemed hopeless, an escape to rejoin family.
“Well ,this is interesting. You all have a Vestalia in Luca, too?” Marika asked.
A groggy Marian woke up, looking around as if she was confused as to her whereabouts. “Ugh, I always get woken up from the best dreams,” she whined, rubbing her eyes for a long time before staring out at the bright blue planet that loomed in front of them. “That’s not Vestalia, silly, that’s Tyhera … my planet.”
Marika looked over at her with disbelief. “No wonder you guys look so much like the humans of Vestalia. If you had knocked me out a couple days ago and woke me up to this, you could have told me that we were back in Anstractor and I would have believed it.”
“You never sleep though, Rika. You’ve been up for what? Three days on this trip?” Marian said, using her pet name for Marika Tsuno.
“After all that talk about galactic dictators and Fel-whatevers torturing rebels, I wasn’t going to sleep on this trip. I’m an old assassin from Anstractor, girl. We were made to stay up for whole weeks during our training. Plus, y’know, there are some added bonuses.”
“Like what?” Marian asked, looking over at her.
“Like watching you sleep. You have a cute purring thing that you do when you’re knocked out,” she said.
“Watch it, you, and remember our talk. I don’t want Vallen after me for taking his woman, and I’m mad at Rafian, but that doesn’t mean that—”
“Oh, hush, what do you think I am? I’m not in love with you, Marian. I mean, you’re a cutie, in a deadly flower that will poison you when you pluck it sort of way, but I don’t want to marry you. Plus, seeing what you put old Rafian through, I don’t know if I’d want to—”
“One more word, cruta, and I swear to the makers that I will bite your nose off,” Marian said.
“That’s my girl,” Marika joked, and they both laughed, deep laughter from the bottom of their bellies, the kind that makes you feel good all over.
They had used the ship’s FTL drive to get into Tyheran space, but after three days of hyperspace travel, they were getting near the end of their fuel, and the snacks that they had brought along were finished with the exception of a bottle of water.
Between the hunger and the talks they’d had to pass the time, the women had become closer—if that was possible. Serious talks had turned to old stories, and old stories had turned to jokes, which became personal jokes, which became honest jabs, with honest answers to counter them, followed by even more honest jabs. One of these jabs had Marika calling Marian out for being a hypocrite. She had lost her temper when she saw her husband with another woman, but how would she be able to explain to him that they had been sleeping with one another?
Marian explained the history of Rafian’s infidelity and countered it with Marika’s own beau, Vallen, who had no clue she was having a relationship behind his back.
“Phasers thype one another; it’s a fact of life.” Marika had said, but Marian would not hear it. Rafian had driven her to find love in Marika’s arms, so she wasn’t to blame for what she was doing. This last counter had caused Marika to laugh, and it made Marian so upset that they stopped talking for three long, painful hours.
A large vessel approached them as they drifted towards Tyhera and the comm on their HUD showed the face of a mean, Daltak warrior who was shouting something into his own comm. Marika was amused by the man’s appearance: he had on a hat like the old cow farmers used to wear on old vids from Vestalia’s past. His skin was alabaster, with a slight tint of blues, and his nose and ears were missing, but the area where they would be fluttered as he breathed.
“That man is a Daltak,” Marian said as she saw the look on Marika’s face. “A race of warriors with a rigid set of codes and rules that means that we better hope that he’s on our side.”
There was a lot of static and then his voice finally came through. He was cursing in Daltese, but got quiet when he realized they could hear him.
“Felitian ship, you have ten seconds to surrender to our tractor beam, or become disabled by our fire. You have no fuel; we can see it. Surrender peacefully and we will allow you to eject in one of our escape pods towards the planet. You have seven seconds. What’s it going to be?”
Marian recognized the face but couldn’t pinpoint from where. She exchanged glances with Marika, and then clicked on the holo-video to show the Daltak who they were. Marika quickly pulled on the pilot’s helmet and slammed the shaded visor down. Marian had forgotten that her Casanian features would cause questions, so she was happy to see that Marika was a step ahead of her.
“Can you spare two stranded girls with their hearts in the resistance?” she said. Daltaks were a stubborn, horned race of warriors that would not bow to Palus Felitious. She respected them for their tenacity, and she could not recall seeing a Daltak in the Felitian army; only Tyherans, Deijens, and a few Ranalos.
The man on the holo cocked his head and glanced over at his co-pilot and asked, “Mitchum, are you seeing this? Am I spiced, or is that Rafian’s wife flying that ship?”
Mitchum was another Daltak, much older, and a lot more handsome than the one seated next to him. He pulled up a tablet and punched in some codes, then scrolled a bit before showing it to his partner, nodding.
“Is Rafian with you? Is the old warrior back?” the man asked excitedly, and Marian shook her head at him.
“I am here alone, back to visit Tyhera, but I can tell Rafian that his friend helped me. I know that he will be grateful once he comes to meet me on the planet,” she lied.
“Tell him Makk of old Cally sends his greetings. We bled together against the Fels for many years, wife of Raf. He saved my life, I saved his … we really thought we had a chance. We really thought we would find Palus Felitious and kill him in the center of Veece.” He laughed so violently that it almost looked like crying, but Marian and Marika saw how much his demeanor changed when he spoke of Raf.
Marian spoke up. “I am always humbled by my husband’s friends, Makk. You all were titans in your time, and we can still be titans if we can reunite the resistance to destroy Palus.”
There was a pause after she said this, and they could feel their ship being pulled in by a tractor beam. The large junk ship that Makk and Mitchum flew was outfitted with weapons, but Marian saw where that fact could be easily overlooked.
When they were onboard and the vacuum port was sealed they exited the tiny ship and stumbled on to the dirty dock, holding one another for support. Marian looked over at Marika in her helmet and lifted it off. “Let me do the talking, okay?” she said, and the Casanian warrior nodded.
The dusty dock doors opened and the Makk stepped through, larger than life. He crossed the floor in long, powerful steps, and then embraced them tightly, as i
f they were long lost friends.
“Well met, well met, freedom fighters, it’s been too long. Where on Tyhera are you wanting to go? Me and Mitchum were headed to the Yilen space station to refuel, but we can drop you girls off if you want. That station has a bus that takes pilots down to the shuttleport near Veece. A few words to the right escort and you can slip past the so-called security.”
Marian regarded him, and wondered why he hadn’t asked about Marika’s features. Maybe he thinks it’s makeup, she thought to herself, and then looked back at their old vessel.
“Makk, I don’t want charity, especially since I have another favor to ask. That ship, the one you pulled us in, you obviously wanted it badly enough to delay your refueling in order to attempt a hostile takeover. How about I give it to you, in exchange—”
“For?” Makk asked as he stood with his hands on his hips, his duster flared out to give him the appearance of a powerful horned god. He had a wide brimmed hat on that covered one of his horns, but the other was out and it was missing the tip, as if he had lost it in a swordfight.
“Boy, Vallen better be lucky that I am a faithful cruta, Marian,” Marika mumbled as she admired Makk’s body, and the pirate swagger that came with his entire appearance.
“I need a house or an apartment for a few days, somewhere close to Veece and out of the view of the Felitians. I also need some food and drink. We haven’t eaten in hours, and I think I’m about to pass out.”
“You and your friend both look the worse for wear, lady Raf. I’ll get you fed and on your way,” Makk said.
“What about the house?” Marian asked, and the Daltak smiled and offered his hand.
“Lady, you don’t have to worry. Mitchum and I may look like a pair of have-nothing, space pirates on a scavenging hunt, but we have property on Palus’s beloved Tyhera. But we can talk about all of that later. Come join us in the cockpit, and you can tell me about Rafian, and why he has you out here alone during the worst time possible.”
They spoke for long hours with Makk and Mitchum, who Marian found to be both personable and enjoyable as company. They spoke of the old resistance and the things that they had gone through, and Marian lied and told them that she and Rafian had fled to one of the remote planets in order to live as man and wife, away from Palus’s rule. Makk had given her a look of disbelief when she told him this, and it was obvious that he wasn’t buying it.
“Rafian would never do that, lady Raf. Any one of us that knew the man, knew that the one thing he didn’t know how to do was give up. Sure he loves you; you’re worth the love as a warrior bride, but don’t sit in my ship and feed me feces and expect me to smile up at you as if it smells and tastes good. You can keep your secrets; I’ll leave it to him to tell me the truth. Now let’s get you down to Tyhera, like I promised.”
Memory 3
“You’re still thinking about the Supreme Leader, aren’t you?” Marika asked as she sat up and rubbed her large, black eyes. Marian smiled, admiring the dark spots that formed a funnel on Marika’s salmon-colored skin. It was one of the many unique features of a Casanian, a defining feature that seemed to replace hair—if she were a human. Most of the races in Anstractor considered them to be beautiful, so it didn’t take much convincing for Marian to share her bed with Marika Tsuno.
“Yeah, I think I’m heart-broken, but I’ll get over it. After all, we have too much to do here for me to wallow in self-pity, thinking about him,” Marian said.
“If Val did that to me I would probably kill him,” Marika said in a tone so sincere that Marian felt a little bit concerned.
“You brought it up as a joke on the ship, but some would call us hypocrites. You know that, right?” Marian said, leaning down so Marika could see she was being serious.
“Thype them; we’re just friends. When it comes to Vallen, it’s different. I don’t want to know about him and some cruta swapping sholt,” Marika said, waving her slender, pink hand dismissively.
Marian sat up and stretched, looking around the room like she always did to make sure everything was still in place. She didn’t know why she was so cautious; Marika had spent most of her adult years stalking and killing targets as a member of the Dead Star Coalition, so if anyone was to try anything, she would be several steps ahead of them every time.
She got up to take a misty cleanse, and stared at her friend to see if she wanted to join her.
“You go ahead, Rhee,” Marika said to her. “I’m going outside to test that lake.”
They were staying in an old abandoned house on the outskirts of Veece, a city that was the capital of Apun, Tyhera. Veece was once Marian’s city to police, back when she was known as Rienne Laren, the so-called Baroness of Blood. Those days she was a tool for the Empire, and it seemed like another lifetime to her.
Rafian, her husband, had come into the galaxy as an outsider. He rose in the ranks as a resistance fighter, and then romanced her away from her position. She felt indebted to him for doing it, and she knew that he had not only saved her life, but her soul.
Back then, she thought they would run away together, live humbly in the hills, raise a few children, and then die happily, having found one another. What happened instead was that he regained his memory and figured out that Luca was merely a mission. He was to return home after rallying the resistance, but he was now married to her, so they went back to Anstractor together.
Marian’s mind went through all of this as she stood inside the steamy mist, letting its microscopic magic remove the toxins and impurities from her body. When the lights on the panel turned from green to blue, she turned off the mist, dressed quickly, and then checked for her las-sword, as if she worried that it would disappear. Its black blade, lined with the strange language of the Geralos, was sticking out from under the bed. She snatched it up and slid it into its sheath, and then placed it with her other belongings.
“Jumping” was still a strange concept to her as a native Lucan; the idea of teleporting from one galaxy to the next was the stuff of dreams, but for a Phaser it was reality. She balanced a jump crystal in her palm, examining it to see if she could decipher its mystic properties. It was a futile exercise at best. She pocketed it quickly and then ran outside to see if she could find Marika.
We must take care not to leave anything here that belongs to Anstractor, she thought. If the Felitians were to get our crystals and figure out how to use them … Maker help us.
Marian was dressed in the peculiar style of the Tyherans in order to blend in, but the floor-length dress and the silken cape got in the way of mobility so it was hard to get used to. She had wrapped her black hair up into a conical top-knot, and the entire disguise felt uncomfortable and impractical. She floated out of the building on soft-soled shoes, and every step made her feel as if she wanted to fall.
Makk had put her in contact with Blu the Deijin, one of Rafian’s old resistance buddies, and one of the last men holding out against Palus Felitious on Tyhera. She was excited to meet him, but nervous at the same time. He had sent them down from the space station with five coins. Each coin was slipped into the palm of the guards doing the checks, and five guards later they were on Tyhera, running up into the mountains towards this house that Makk used as a vacation home.
“Don’t you look the part of the alien queen,” Marika teased as she splashed around inside the lake that sat next to the house. The water was not clear, nor was it a slight green reflective makeup like the lakes of Anstractor; it was a milky brown soup that made Marian turn up her nose.
“That’s disgusting, Marika. Are you sure it’s safe to swim in there? Tyhera has plenty of deadly amphibious predators that love pools like that. You wouldn’t see it coming and—”
“It’s safe; I did all the checks,” Marika interrupted, splashing water up at her for effect. “You act as if I’m some sort of idiot sometimes, Marian. I’m a big girl, you know; been a big girl for quite a number of years now. It’s sweet that you care, but come on.”
Marian lo
oked down past the dry cobblestones that she stood on, and scanned the grass, trees, and rocks that bordered the pool. “It’s freezing out here. How’s the water?” she asked.
“Oh, it’s freezing in here, too, but it’s good for the nerves, good for training. I want to get used to your cold planet. This way, when you need me to kill someone, I’ll be more than ready.”
“Is that a strategy that you and Raf cooked up, or is this more of you thyping with me?” Marian asked.
“Old assassin technique, my dear; Rafian has nothing to do with it. Now run along, and go meet with your overly important xenophobic friends. I’ll be here if you need me. Just remember that I’m half a jump away,” Marika said.
~ * ~
The sky was a brilliant shade of orange, with the only blemishes being the dark clouds that played hide and seek with the setting suns of Tyhera. Marian was in awe of its beauty as she stood outside of the Starport, staring up at the sky. She wondered how it was that she had grown up on this planet and neglected to notice just how beautiful everything was.
She looked over the buildings and their unique designs and massive statues, sculpted by the men and women of her grandfather’s age. There was art in every corner, and beauty seemed to be everywhere.
She stood without moving, trying to absorb it all, and after a few minutes had passed, she hailed a glide transport to take her up into the mountains. It was a little under seven years prior when she had been an important person in the city, and Marian hoped nobody would recognize her.
The Phaser training had made her a stronger, more muscular version of the woman that she was, and she no longer wore the bright red mascara that she did when she was Baroness. She hoped this would be enough to keep her hidden, but just in case, she threw a thin veil across her mouth and sat near the rear of the vessel to avoid the crowd.
