by Anna Carven
A side-route would take her through the Offcuts Market, and from there, she’d find the western edge of the Dust Alleys.
For fear of slowing down, she didn’t dare look back again. Somehow, she just knew that Mister Tall, Dark, and Brutal was behind her.
And if he caught her…
She shuddered and tried not to think about it as she fled through the crazy, winding backstreets of Darkside, where life balanced on a knife’s edge, and everything was unpredictable.
Chapter Five
That sneaky temptress thought she could lose him? Ha. She had no idea that Iskar had a finely honed sense of smell.
Her sweet fragrance guided him like a deep space beacon, cutting through the miasma of unwashed bodies and exotic aromas—food, fuel, chemicals, spices. As he raced through narrow, winding alleys, he would catch the occasional glimpse of her shock of blue hair as she rounded a corner or disappeared into a crowd of people.
He lengthened his stride, easing into a comfortable rhythm. People moved out of his way as he ran, perhaps sensing that Iskar wasn’t in the mood to deal with trivial interruptions.
As he followed her unmistakable fragrance, heading away from the Glory Strip, the scenery began to change.
Glitz and glamor gave way to decay. Here, the streets were narrower, and the smooth road surface was marred with potholes and debris. Warm light glowed from deep within tiny shops and eating places, spilling out onto the street through grimy windows.
The humans he passed were furtive and silent, mostly ignoring or avoiding him as he passed. They averted their eyes and kept to themselves, moving in small groups.
To Iskar’s relief, the headache-inducing beat of the Glory Strip had become a distant memory, replaced with an uneasy silence.
“Caught your prey yet, Commander?” Torin’s laconic voice came loud and clear across the comm.
“I am in pursuit,” Iskar whispered, increasing his pace. Now that the path was relatively clear, he could stretch out and run at full speed.
A Kordolian running at full speed could outpace any human. Of that he had no doubt.
He would catch her soon.
“I’ve attracted too much attention to myself after that little one-sided brawl,” Torin said, although he didn’t sound the least bit concerned. “I’m going to disappear to the rooftops for a while. Sometimes, the view is better from above. Meet you at the bike stacks in twenty chalens or so? If you get held up, let me know. I’ll wait.”
“Is this what you had in mind when you talked me into this, Mardak?” It had been a long time since Iskar had scoured the city-streets of any planet. He’d spent most of his life in space, and when he had to go landside, he usually traveled in a military convoy.
On the other hand, Torin-the-weirdo seemed to do this sort of thing all the time, just because he found it interesting. In another life, the lethal First Division warrior had probably been a fucking scholar.
“You’re getting a close-up tour of the infamous Darkside, are you not? What better way to understand the structure of human society than to witness it first-hand?”
“I could have stayed on base and taken another intel briefing.”
“But where’s the fun in that?”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re nuts, soldier?”
“Frequently.”
Iskar rolled his eyes. “After I have concluded my business here, I will meet you at the stacks.”
“Sure you don’t need backup?” Torin’s voice was full of irony. “I hear the streets of Darkside can be dangerous at night.”
“Hmph,” Iskar snorted, not bothering to reply. He might not have the freakish nano-regeneration ability of a First Division warrior, but both of them knew that a Rathurian blademaster like Iskar was deadly in his own right. He’d left his Callidum swords behind, but there was plenty of hardware concealed on his person.
Three daggers, two plasma guns, and a small EMP emitter, to be precise. Iskar might hold the rank of High Commander, but he hadn’t gone soft. He trained in the simulator every fucking day of his life against opponents both imagined and real.
A flash of long, golden legs captured his attention as he turned down yet another winding alley. This street wasn’t even paved. There was just dirt underfoot, decorated with small piles of junk and refuse.
Poverty. That was the word that came to Iskar’s mind as he ran past a mangy creature with brown fur and a waving tail. Dogs. That’s what the humans called these animals. This one’s ribs showed through its matted fur. It barked weakly before running off into the shadows.
The tall buildings of the Glory Strip were long gone, having devolved into low-set dwellings constructed from scrap metal and polymer. The smell of old cooking wafted into the air, mingling with the dust and smoke. The light here was even dimmer, blessing him with the comfort of shadows.
She had disappeared from sight, but it didn’t matter. Iskar inhaled deeply through the thin gauzy material of his scarf and followed her scent. He ran and ran, chasing her down every little fucking winding backstreet and alley and circuit—sometimes going in circles—until she stopped.
She was no longer running, he was sure of it. Maybe she’d gotten tired. In contrast, he had plenty of stamina left. He could run for kuliks.
You’ve got nowhere left to run, human.
An exasperated laugh escaped his lips as he followed his nose, loping toward the ramshackle dwelling where he was certain she was hiding.
His suspicions were confirmed when he heard her talking Human-speak to someone in a low, desperate hiss. She seemed to be pleading.
There you are.
This female had truly vexed him, managing to anger and arouse and mystify him all at once.
Kaiin’s hells, he hadn’t been tricked like this in a very long time. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to exist without the mighty war-apparatus of the Kordolian fleet.
And now he was here, in some backwater slum on a backwater planet, chasing a woman who had taken something very important from him.
It occurred to him that she had no idea who she’d messed with, so he would give her a little taste of fear, just enough to discourage her from stealing again. When he’d been appointed by the General, Iskar had vowed to maintain order in the Ninth Sector, and this seemed like a damn good place to start.
Chapter Six
What the hell was this guy, a fucking cyborg? Mari had been running for what felt like hours, and every time she risked a fraction of a glance over her shoulder, she’d seen his imposing figure in the background.
He was like a fucking phantom; a tall, dark specter relentlessly chasing her down as she doubled back and circled around, trying to lose him in the chaos of the Dust Alleys.
Didn’t the bastard ever get tired?
She ran until her lungs had no more air left in them, until her legs became numb. Her hard-soled feet were sore. Each step was painful, and occasionally she would step on a rock or some hard piece of trash, sending a jolt of agony through her foot.
As a kid, she used to run barefoot through these streets all the time, but not for this long, and not blindly like this. The Dust Alleys weren’t well lit at night, and even Mari, who had been born and bred here, was prone to the occasional mis-step.
Several times, she thought about stopping and just giving back the damn pendant, but her pursuer had seemed so damn angry and vicious and hard that she got the feeling he’d want to punish her no matter what.
Soon, she’d have no choice. Mari’s body was giving out. If she stopped now, she’d probably fall flat on her face. Only sheer momentum kept her upright.
“Urgh!” A gasp of frustration tore through her throat as she entered Dead Fish Row, named that way because most of its inhabitants drank like fish… and sooner or later, they ended up dead.
Most of the windows were dark, but there was one guy who always kept his light on.
Mad Jeff. For unknown reasons, he detested the darkness, and being paranoid, he collected gu
ns. They weren’t the fancy, modern, high-energy bolt types used by the military and high-grade mercenaries. Nobody who lived in the Dust Alleys could afford things like that. No, Jeff’s guns were of the old-fashioned, historical, highly illegal type. They shot actual metal bullets, and he wasn’t afraid to use them.
Perfect. If she couldn’t run anymore, then at least she could lead her pursuer to the one place in the Dust Alleys he might think twice about entering.
Breathing heavily, she tapped on the door. “Oi, Uncle Jeff!” He wasn’t really her uncle, but in this place, everybody above a certain age was referred to as uncle or aunt.
Silence. Any minute now, the implacable stranger would appear behind her. Feeling nauseous, Mari doubled over. She’d run so hard she felt like throwing up. “Oh, bloody hell, will ya just let me in this once? It’s me, Maribel, and you know I don’t work for the government.” She’d lapsed back into her native Eskulin, the language of the streets.
The door opened.
She stumbled inside, almost sobbing in relief. A sharp metallic click made her look up. There stood Mad Jeff, scrutinizing her with narrowed eyes as he pointed one of his ancient metal guns at her.
Mari straightened. “You’re not going to shoot me, are you, Uncle?”
Jeff inclined his head, furrowing his brow. Salt-and-pepper eyebrows knit together. Pale grey eyes narrowed. “Depends. You workin’ for the government?”
“You know I ain’t.” Mari crossed her arms indignantly. “I just need a place to lay low for a while.”
“You runnin’ from the government?”
“Er, I suppose you could say that.”
Mad Jeff’s bearded face split into a wide grin. “In that case, be my guest, Blue.”
That was when all hell broke loose.
Chapter Seven
A booted foot kicked in Mad Jeff’s steel door. Poor Jeff hadn’t had time to close the e-bolts after Mari’s intrusion, so he did what was apparently the next best thing.
He fired.
Inside the tiny domicile, the noise was deafening. Mari instinctively dropped to the floor. A soft grunt of pain reached her ears, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a black shadow surging toward Mad Jeff.
“No!” she screamed, horror coursing through her. She hadn’t expected her pursuer to actually find her.
Not in the Dust Alleys, and especially not in Dead Fish Row, where it was easy for a soul to disappear for days on end.
How the hell had he been able to follow her into the most poorly mapped urban zone on Earth?
Mari got up onto her knees, her eyes widening as she saw her mysterious attacker swiftly disarm and immobilize Mad Jeff.
Holy crap. Such speed! The metal gun clattered to the floor. Jeff dropped to his knees, howling in pain.
The man bent and picked up Jeff’s gun, but instead of pointing it at her, he studied it carefully before concealing it somewhere on his person.
Mari reached into her belt-pouch and brought out the alien-metal pendant, dangling it from her hand. “Here. T-take it.” The stupid thing had proven to be much more trouble than it could ever possibly be worth. “Just don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt him.”
Stupid, stupid Mari. She never would have thought that such a simple act of thievery would turn into a such a nightmare.
And now she’d dragged an innocent into her mess.
“I told you they were coming,” Jeff whimpered, staggering to his feet. He backed away slowly, never once taking his eyes off the stranger. “They’re going to rule this place, you know. We don’t stand a chance.” A less-than-sane laugh burst from his lips.
What the fuck is he talking about? Jeff always rambled on about aliens and takeovers and conspiracy theories. He was convinced that control of Earth was going to be taken away from humans in the near future.
Apparently, the voices in his head had told him so.
Tall, Dark, and Brutal inclined his head, as if in agreement with Mad Jeff. Something dripped onto the polished concrete floor.
Blood.
The stranger pressed gloved fingers against his shoulder. When he took them away, they glistened.
Oh, hell no! Mad Jeff had shot her worst nightmare in the shoulder, and the man hadn’t even flinched.
Yep, he was a cyborg. Had to be. It was the only explanation for his preternatural strength and speed.
And if he’d been angry before, then now…
Another droplet hit the floor. Mari looked down and gasped.
Black blood.
“Y-you’re not human,” she blurted, dismay coloring her voice.
“No.” The stranger’s cold voice cut through the air like a knife. He didn’t offer any more information as he continued to stare at Mari through his dark lenses.
Freaking intimidating. That’s what he was, and all she could do was helplessly dangle the pendant—his property—in front of him as she tensed, waiting to see what he would do next. Immobility made her realize how damn sore her feet were. The soles of her feet burned. Even if she managed to run now, she would probably only be able to hobble out the door.
Paralyzing. That was the effect he had on her. She was caught in his glare like a rabbit in the headlights, helpless and afraid. Terrifying scenarios ran through her mind as she tried to remember the various alien species that had come to Earth in recent years. A number of them were humanoid, and of those, several were potentially dangerous, but which ones had black blood? She didn’t know anything about alien blood.
Who the hell obsessed over alien blood, anyway?
In the background, Mad Jeff moved sideways like a crab, his grey eyes darting toward a twin-barreled long metal gun which rested in the corner. It was propped up against an ancient green metal box that had “U.S. Military” printed on the side in faded white letters.
“If you move again, I’ll shoot you between the eyes,” the alien said, his nonchalance chilling her to the bone. A different weapon appeared in his hand; a very alien looking gun. It was sleek and black, and it probably shot out energy blasts of some sort. Mari had no doubt whatsoever that he would pull the trigger if provoked.
Jeff threw his hands up into the air. “Th-this old man is stayin’ right here.”
“That would be the wisest thing for you to do.” The stranger holstered his gun and walked toward Mari, his steps slow and steady despite the fact that he was dripping blood all over the place.
“Maribel’s a good girl,” Mad Jeff muttered, looking everywhere but in the direction of the stranger. “You should take no offense if she’s wronged you. Everyone in this place does wrong to get by. We got mouths to feed, rent to pay, existences to carve out. She’s just doing the same as any of us would.”
Since when was Jeff so damn… philosophical?
Mari blinked in surprise, but she didn’t dare move. Her hand trembled slightly as the pendant swayed in the air, its sharp edges glinting in the dim light. Strange, elegant characters were etched into its surface, forming a word in a language she’d never seen before.
The alien stopped just inches from her and stared down.
Mari’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered. Despite the danger, part of her was intensely curious as to what lay behind those dark lenses.
She’d seen aliens on the street, but she’d never had a real-life encounter with one.
“Get up, human.” His voice rang with authority, and without thinking, Mari responded to his command. She had no choice.
At least, she tried.
As she rose, pain shot through her feet, and she stumbled and fell.
Now that the fear and adrenalin had worn off a little, her feet were really starting to hurt. The soles of her feet must have been torn to shreds as she pounded the rough streets.
Gloved fingers closed around her shoulder, steadying her. She stumbled again, and he hooked his arm under hers, forcing her to lean against him. Suddenly, there was blessed relief as he took most of her weight, even though he’d just been shot.
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Whoa! Butterflies fluttered in Mari’s stomach. That was unexpected. His grip was firm, but not hostile. “You are hurt.”
“So are you.” She eyed the wound in his shoulder. An alarming amount of blood had seeped through the fabric of his jacket. His left arm hung limply by his side. “If you need to get to a medical facility, I can help—”
He gave a sharp shake of his head. “Left side.”
“What?”
“Reach into my jacket. There’s a utility pouch and a dagger secured at my side. Take the dagger and gently slice through my clothes at the site of the wound until it is fully exposed. Then remove the finger-sized tube from the pouch and press the red-tipped end against my wound.”
Huh. That was a lot of trust to put in a stranger. He wanted her to help him? “What makes you so sure I won’t turn around and stab you?” Surprise made her blurt the question before she had time to think.
“If I get the feeling you’re even half considering it, I’ll drop you like a stone. If you made a real attempt to kill me, I would snap your neck, but you won’t do that, will you?”
She didn’t doubt his threat for one second. “I promise I won’t try to kill you. I’ll do exactly as you say.” In this situation, appeasement was the best strategy.
“I know.”
“Y-you know?”
Unexpectedly, his tone softened. “You aren’t a killer. Far from it. Take the damn knife, human. Quickly, or I’ll bleed out and you won’t have a leg to stand on.” Despite the sudden urgency in his tone, his voice still held a note of command. Mari got the feeling this stranger was used to bossing people around.
“If you bleed out, you won’t have a leg to stand on either. I could just do nothing and wait until you collapse.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to try that. There are a great many things I could do to you before we reach that point, and in the unlikely case that something were to happen to me… you do not want to have my people coming after you.”
No, I most certainly do not.
