by Dante King
An old, female human was walking past a particularly pushy creature with crab-like claws when it reached out and grabbed her by her sackcloth dress and dragged her close.
“Your home could use one of these, yes?” the vendor demanded. The woman struggled to get away, but the crab held fast. “I could make you a good deal, yes? Maybe you will buy two, yes? Three?”
“Let me go!” the woman cried. Nobody nearby offered any help, but just as I got ready to intervene, she pulled a long knife from a hidden place on her dress and pressed it to one of the crab’s extended eyestalks.
“Let go, or I’ll make you grow a new eye,” she warned. The crab released her dress, and the woman hurried away.
I laughed and checked to make sure Skrew was still close by. We’d made it halfway through the crowded streets, and I didn’t want to lose him.
“Buy for your home, yes?” the crab asked when I got close. I rested my hand on my sword and watched him to see if he’d try the same thing with me. There would be no warning if he did. I’d take both his eyes.
The crab looked me up and down before its eyes came to rest on my sword. It made a chattering sound before looking away like it hadn’t noticed me at all.
That’s what I thought. It’s different when you have to defend your actions with your life. I chuckled. I couldn’t help it.
When a human vendor selling fur clothing did reach out for me, Skrew came to the rescue. He slapped the vendor’s hand without breaking stride, made a rude gesture with two of his hands, and shook his other two fists at the human.
The vendor returned the gesture, added a hip-gyrating insult of his own, and repeated the first gesture again. The silent tirade went back and forth for a full minute before the two lost sight of each other in the teeming crowd of aliens, humans, and unidentified things that might have been alive or not. Some were so weird, I couldn’t tell.
It struck me how strange my situation really was. I’d grown up on Mars, where humanity was the primary and dominant species. The MSM command had found few signs of sentient life in our system, except the Xeno. But here I was, understanding every voice. I was almost sure the Lakunae had something to do with that. I figured it was the best conclusion to make. Whatever tech—or magic, if it could be called that—they’d used had gifted me with a universal language translator in my brain.
I noticed a group of vendors bickering, and a second later, they were brawling in the middle of the street. I moved past them, dragging Skrew away from the fight. He seemed intent on spectating, but we had places to be.
The bazaar was a huge cultural melting pot full of opportunistic vendors, desperate workers, and traders, and species of all kinds. It was a bomb waiting to go off, and I had no intention of staying here any longer than I had to. But there was the small problem of the hooded figure who kept appearing at the corners of my vision.
A few moments later, I checked to make sure Skrew was still with me and hadn’t gone back to spectate the brawl when I caught sight of the hooded figure yet again. Whoever it was, it was bold enough to follow us through the crowd. Enough was enough.
I had to find out who the spy was and what it wanted.
I put an arm around Skrew’s shoulders and pointed at a vendor, pretending to talk about either the long-limbed, hairless alien behind the trash it was trying to sell, or the trash itself.
“We’re being followed,” I whispered. “Someone wearing a—turn back around and quit looking, just listen. Someone wearing a hood. I’m going to stop at this vendor. You walk to the next one, then double-back and drag the sneak behind the empty stall to our right. Got it?”
Skrew’s answer was a giggle and clapping hands.
Two minutes later, Skrew was gone. I tried to make sense of what the vendor was selling while I watched the edge of the nearby stall, waiting to see Skrew drag the spy behind it.
“And what do you call this thing?” I asked, lifting up an odd device to its salesman.
“It’s a transrectifying particle unit,” the vendor explained in a slow, monotone voice.
“Is it a weapon, or a tool?”
“It transrectifies particles,” the vendor shrugged. “You want it? I’ll give you a good price.“
I was relieved when I saw Skrew drag a kicking, fighting, hooded spy behind the big stall. I sat the transrectifying particle unit down, thanked the vendor for his time, and joined Skrew.
When I got there, the spy had Skrew at knifepoint and looked like it was about to gut him. The space behind the empty vendor’s stall was piled high with rusted scraps of metal. Small stones skittered underfoot as I moved in to rescue my guide.
I grabbed the spy’s skinny wrist, plucked the short knife from its grip, and spun the spy around to face me. Then, I pulled its hood back, to reveal the lizard-woman who’d told me I was a bad man after saving her ass from three Enforcers.
I got a better look at her, since she wasn’t spitting in my general direction, nor trying to insult me. Her skin was very human-like, except for the scales that ran down her forehead, past her lips, down her throat, and between her breasts. I was glad to see she had two of them. Anything was possible with aliens.
Her eyes were green and yellow—more yellow near her vertical, cat-like pupil and more green at the edge of her irises. The rest of her eyes were white, like mine. Though they were different than any eyes I’d ever seen on a person, they were a beautiful color. Her red hair hung loose over her shoulders.
“What do you want?” I demanded.
“She threaten to evisir… efisur… cut Skrew!” the vrak hissed. “Maybe Jacob gut her? Maybe pull head off and play toss-back with it? Maybe kick femur out ass and—”
“You’re fine,” I interrupted. “Stand guard. Let me know if anyone’s coming.”
Skrew frowned again and pouted. I didn’t blame him for wanting revenge. Also, I wasn’t convinced I wouldn’t do one of the things he suggested. I didn’t like being followed, and she still hadn’t answered my question.
“What do you want?” I said slowly.
“You killed Pedaloth,” she said. “Why?”
“I killed the dragon because it attacked a village of innocent people.”
“What village?” she asked, disbelief coating her words like dirty syrup.
“I don’t know if it had a name,” I said.
“Return the sword to me, and I will try to forget your face.”
“Maybe Skrew rearrange your face,” the vrak added as he raised all four of his fists. “Then everybody try to forget. Look like your face caught fire and someone try to stop fire with chain, huh?”
“That’s enough, Skrew,” I said, never breaking eye contact with the spy. “Why do you care if I killed it or not?” I asked the scaled woman. “The thing was a monster. It was more than half machine. It tried to kill everyone.”
“I don’t believe you.” Her expression was defiant but frightened. She knew I could kill her, yet even then, she displayed a courage uncommon among most people. It made me even more interested in her.
“Where is this village?” she asked again.
I didn't want to tell her. If I let her go, and she told anyone else, the home of the Ish-Nul might be burned to the ground in retaliation. But there was something in her eyes, in her expression, that told me she wasn’t out for vengeance. She wanted something else, but what it was, I wasn’t sure.
I sighed. “I told you; I don’t know where it is. It’s by a shore. The people are called the Ish-Nul.”
She gasped. “That is far to the north. Very far. Pedaloth did not travel that far. You lie.”
“When was the last time you saw this… Pedaloth?”
She didn’t answer, but her expression softened, and she chewed on her bottom lip. It had been a while. “We have not seen Pedaloth for 20 cycles.”
I assumed “cycles” meant days. “Would that have been enough time for the creature to travel all the way to the Ish-Nul?”
She nodded and continued to chew her
lip.
“Why do you care?” It seemed like a fair question to me, but when I asked, one tear fell from the woman’s eye onto her cheek.
“Pedaloth is ancient,” she explained. Her voice was strained, and she worked hard not to cry. “Pedaloth is sacred to my people. She has been with us since the beginning. She has protected us, and we have cared for her.”
“She wasn’t being all that protective when she attacked the village I was in,” I countered.
“No,” the woman said, “she was not.”
I waited for a pack of hawkers waving farming tools to pass by the stall before I spoke again.
“Did you send Pedaloth to attack the Ish-Nul?”
“No, never!” she gasped. “We did not command Pedaloth. We never needed to. She never strayed far. When the vrak came to take our people, she killed and ate them all to protect us.”
I heard Skrew inhale, and I was certain he was about to say something nasty. I held up a hand to silence him.
“What is your name?” I asked the lizard-woman.
She took a deep breath and stood up straight before answering. I hadn’t realized she’d been cowering. “I am called Yaltu.”
She studied my face as she said it, probably looking for a hint of recognition. I’d never heard it before, which seemed to make her curious. Whoever she was, she thought she was important. Of course, Skrew thought he was important, too… and he was looney.
“Who sent Pedaloth to attack the Ish-Nul, then?” I asked.
“I do not know,” Yaltu said. “The Ish-Nul are peaceful people. They hunt the creatures of the land and the creatures of the sea. They do not hunt those who are sacred to my people. They do not make war with us. We sometimes buy the creatures from the sea they catch. They smoke the meat, and it is delicious. We have never had quarrel with them. We would not bring war to them. We would not bring harm to them.”
“Your dragon killed many of them. And burned homes.”
“Pedaloth must have been affected by someone or something.” She paused for a moment. “Are you of the Ish-Nul?” She studied my face and my features, probably looking for something that would give her a clue.
“No, I’m not. I found one of their people as a slave near a place called the refinery. I freed her.” I gestured at Skrew. “And this nosy vrak, who should be watching for trouble instead of staring at us.”
Skrew grumbled something about making trouble rather than looking for it.
“You freed a slave?” Yaltu asked, her expression one of startled bewilderment.
“Of course I did,” I said defensively.
“Why would you rescue a slave? Most are debt-slaves. They are stupid and must work for their master until their debt is paid. Many are criminals who must remain a slave for their whole life to repay their debt for the crimes they have committed. Why would you save a worthless slave?”
“Because slavery is wrong,” I whispered. “Slavery has always been wrong and will always be wrong. There’s never a good excuse for it. There’s never a good reason for it. There’s never a time when it’s right or just or best for society. I abhor slavery, and I abhor slavers.” I took a half-step back and relaxed my hands when I realized I had gripped my Ebon’s hilt.
Yaltu’s expression wasn’t one of fright or intimidation, though. Her eyes sparkled, but not because they were full of tears at hearing my words. Sympathy and understanding touched her yellow-green eyes. She examined me all the way from the top of my head to the tips of my leather shoes as if she’d never seen a human before. When her eyes returned to my face, her cheeks were red.
She was blushing.
This was taking an odd turn. I’d been expecting a knife in the back, not another admirer.
“You are an outlander,” she said. It was a statement, not a question, but I answered it anyway.
“If that means what I think it means, then yes.”
“You are not even from this world?”
“Not even close to this world,” I confirmed. “Our aliens aren’t so pretty.”
Skrew giggled, and it almost looked like he was batting his eyelashes. I shot him a cold stare, and he returned to watching one side of the stall. The other side looked clear. Vendors and desperate buyers milled about and filled the air with their chatter, but that worked to my advantage. Even if they could see us, the assumption would be that we were conducting business.
I looked back at Yaltu. She’d grown quiet after my barely veiled compliment.
“Do you keep pets?” she spoke up after a second, her expression suddenly happy.
The question seemed so strange, I had to ask her to repeat it to make sure I’d heard her correctly.
“No, I don’t have any pets,” I said.
“Do you know what a beast of burden is?” she asked, studying my face and squinting at me.
“Sure. They’re animals bred or pressed into service to do heavy lifting, towing, and other strenuous activities for others. Why?”
“Is it good to have your kind, humans, as beasts of burden?”
“No,” I told her sharply. “Of course not. It’s not okay to have your people as beasts of burden either.”
She sighed, and it was obvious to me she’d been working her way toward one final question. This was a test, then, but what was her purpose?
“Where do you draw the line, human? Where do you say one is good for eating, burden, and work? Where does that line end and slavery begin?”
It was a good question, but I was still confused why she was asking it. I’d caught her spying on me. Skrew had threatened her life. Now, she wanted to know my thoughts on what constituted a slave? I was curious, so I played along.
“I suppose that creatures who can tell me they don’t like to be slaves is where I draw the line. If they’re intelligent enough to speak the words, then I know they’re intelligent enough to know they are slaves. Otherwise, they’re pets, and as long as they’re cared for, I think their ignorance allows them to live a happy life.”
Skrew quickly lifted one of his feet and kicked pebbles in my direction. He gestured with a nod into the courtyard, where people were becoming curious about our conversation. Whatever was happening between Yaltu and myself, I had to decide how it would end. Either I’d let her go, bring her with me, or break her neck here on the spot. The third option was far down on the list.
“Come with me to Brazud,” she blurted out. “Some of my kin have been taken as slaves. They are being held at the stockyards. They will be sold as slaves or as food. Please help me rescue them. You are a good man. You believe as I do. Slavery is an evil that consumes and breeds everlasting hatred and war. Please, you must help.”
A tear trickled down her cheeks as she gazed pleadingly at me. This lizard-girl was a nuanced creature. She was fighting her own crusade, it seemed, and I’d been caught up in it.
I found her request impossible to decline. I was heading to the city regardless. It wouldn’t be out of my way, and forming a temporary alliance with a knowledgeable and well-connected figure like Yaltu would have obvious advantages.
“I’m going there anyway,” I quickly explained as I watched the gathering crowd. “If you help me search for my missing friends, I’ll help you rescue yours. Agreed?”
“I agree,” she said. “There is another matter.”
“Yes?” I asked.
“I was not entirely truthful with you about Pedaloth. At least, I did not tell the whole truth.”
“Which is?”
“Pedaloth was taken. She returned but she was different. Unlike her beautiful form before, she was mostly machine. My people were divided about what to do with her. Some wanted to slay Pedaloth. They said she suffered and that killing her was right. Others said it was murder. Then, she left. She must have been so lonely before you. . .” She sniffed, and her expression became determined. “I believe the same will happen to my kin in Brazud. We must not let that happen.”
“We’ll find your friends and free them from captivity.
”
Chapter Eighteen
“Thank you,” Yaltu said after I promised to help her. She bowed her head a little, and scales glistened in patches along her skin.
“It’s no problem,” I answered.
There was a mission to complete. I had troops to find, and she had kin to rescue. And Skrew was bouncing on his feet like he needed to piss.
“Let’s go,” I said. “Let’s rescue your kin and my friends, okay?”
The three of us walked from behind the stall, almost tripping over a short alien in an organic carapace. Two of its four arms touched the ground, and it turned around to stare up at us with unblinking compound eyes.
“Watch it, flesh-bag,” the buggy alien said in a buzzing squeal. “I’ll pull your arms off and shove them up your asshole!”
Yaltu gasped. I assumed it was because of the insult or the threat, but then the little creature spoke again.
“You look like a familiar face,” the critter spat. “Just like the bounty picture for Yaltu.”
I kept my eye on the little alien as Yaltu quickly covered her head and face with her hood.
“No, I’m not,” she stammered. “I don’t know who she is.”
“You can try to hide it all you like,” the bug-like alien cackled. “But your fear has given you away. The High Lord wishes to collect your head. And we will collect the bounty. He wants to remove your head himself. So, you’ll be coming with us.”
I maneuvered myself in front of my new ally, using one hand to gently push her behind me. “We?” I asked. “I don’t see any ‘we’. All I see is one little bug who’s about to get itself squashed if it doesn’t buzz off right now.”
“Yeah,” Skrew added, “the bug should buzz and go! Or Skrew and Jacob squash it flat.”
The bazaar filled with the sound of humming wings as a swarm of aliens appeared from stalls, storage boxes, and the sides of buildings around us. I swung around to count them as they fixed themselves onto every nearby horizontal surface.
