by Justin Sloan
A song blasted from the bridge and she smiled, tapping her foot to the beat and wondering what it was. She pushed herself to her feet a moment later and joined the others. Flynn and Robin there, both nodding along, Flynn laughing at something Robin had just said.
The way he was eyeing her made Valerie realize she wasn’t the only one distracted here.
“Garcia?”
“Keeping watch,” Flynn said. “He’s making the rounds, checking for any signs of trouble. I gotta say, though… Based on how it’s been so far, it’s possible we’re all acting a bit paranoid.”
“I’d say that since this is our first experience on an alien planet, a hostile one no less, we’re being the exact right amount of paranoid.”
Flynn shrugged, then smiled at Robin again. The fact that he didn’t say anything made it quite awkward, though.
“I’ll just…” Robin gestured to the back door where the lavatory was.
Unfortunately the upgrades hadn’t removed their need for bodily functions like pissing. If Valerie could have had her way she would have also removed the romance bugs, sleepiness, and itchiness. No matter how indestructible she felt she still got a case of the scratchies sometimes, and it pissed her off.
“Yeah, I’ll use it when you’re done and then,” she leaned down to glance out, confirming from the darkening sky and lines of orange in the clouds that it was nearly sunset, “we should head to Palnik’s. I’m anxious to get this over with.”
Robin nodded and went to the head, leaving Flynn and Valerie alone. Possibly for the first time ever.
Valerie realized this and cocked her head, staring at the corporal. “What’s your deal, anyway?”
“In what way?”
“I asked Colonel Walton to assign you to this team because I saw what you could do in the ring. But can you do it in a real life or death situation?”
Flynn scrunched his face as if debating whether to take that as an insult, but then his smile returned. “Put me in combat and I’ll show you.”
“So you’re hot stuff?”
“I’m not cold stuff. I’m sure as hell not a corpse, and won’t be anytime soon.”
“What?” Valerie licked her lips, trying to understand what he was talking about. “Yes or no, can you kick some alien ass into the next star system if needed?”
He wiped the smile from his face, returning her stern gaze. “You better believe it.”
“But I whipped him good,” Garcia said from the doorway as he stepped back into the Grandeur. “You all saw it, right?”
“That was sparring,” Flynn argued. “Doesn’t count.”
“How the hell do you figure that?”
“With sparring I’m always scared to hurt the other person. You get carried away, you make enemies. I’d rather lose and not break your leg than vice-versa.” His face went pale and he turned to Valerie, cringing. “Oh, sorry.”
He was referring to how, much to Valerie’s surprise, Colonel Walton had busted her knee in a sparring session. Other than that the trip had been quite exciting, what with finally getting to meet Bethany Anne and seeing Michael again.
She waved the comment off, lifting her leg and moving the lower portion. “Seems to be working well enough. No harm done.”
“No lasting harm, anyway,” Robin added as she returned from the head. “You’re up.”
Valerie nodded and started to walk out, but paused and glanced back. “Everyone, suit up. I want you all carrying, but concealed. We can’t start any problems, but I’d rather see this whole planet burn than any of you hurt. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they all replied, and went about it.
Swarthian Extended Detention Environment (SEDE)
“If anyone asks,” Etter told them as they walked the narrow passage between cell blocks, “I’m training you boys.”
They’d left Kalan’s mother’s apartment over an hour ago and they’d spent the bulk of the intervening time in the kitchen with Etter, helping him prepare the food for the isolation wing’s prisoners and loading it onto the cart.
Etter, it seemed, was the master of the art of preparing an impressively wide range of disgusting types of food. There was the gruel, which Kalan remembered all too well from his time inside. That would be for the Skulla and most other species. Pallicons preferred a gelatinous cube of a substance Kalan couldn’t identify. It had strange purple specks floating in it that glowed, making Kalan wonder if it was even safe to be near it.
The final plate was a steaming pile of soft green plants that reminded Kalan of seaweed but smelled like rotting meat. He had no idea what species that disgusting mess was for, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Bob gave Etter a suspicious look. “They’ll believe you’re training us? Won’t they check the records or something?”
Etter shrugged. “I have pretty free rein on who I bring aboard. As long as the food gets delivered, nobody dies, and everyone ends up in the correct cell at night, the Shimmers don’t much care what I do.”
After they’d been walking for a few more minutes, Bob grabbed Kalan’s arm and fell behind Etter a few steps. He leaned over to Kalan. “Hey, where are you keeping your…you know?”
It took Kalan a moment, but then he realized Bob was talking about his pistol. He glanced down at Bob’s right hand, where the man was unsuccessfully trying to keep his pistol up his sleeve without it slipping down. “I can see where you’re keeping yours.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem, man. These prison uniforms weren’t exactly designed for concealing a weapon, you know what I mean?”
“I think that’s on purpose.”
“So, any tips? I can’t even see yours.”
Kalan hesitated a moment before answering. “I don’t have it. I left it with my mom.”
Bob’s jaw fell open. “Are you an idiot?”
“Probably, but if Zoras and his gang decide they want revenge, I don’t want her unarmed. She’s smart enough to keep it hidden and only use it if she absolutely needs to.”
“You’re a dedicated son. And she’s some female.”
Kalan frowned. “Don’t think I didn’t see the way you looked at her when we left.”
“What can I say? I have a thing for females a foot taller than me.”
Etter stopped at a heavy-duty steel door with a tiny window near the top. “This is us.”
He waved his hand over a scanner next to the door and it chirped. The steel door slid open.
“Do you have a chip in your hand or something?” Bob asked.
Kalan grinned. “This is SEDE. Everyone’s got a chip in their hand.”
Etter gestured for them to step inside and pushed his food cart after them.
Kalan stopped a few feet past the door, taking in the oddity of the place. It was laid out exactly like the cell block on which he’d grown up, with one notable exception: there was only one apartment.
A single lonely little dwelling, surrounded by steel walls.
“Welcome to the isolation block, boys,” Etter said with a smile. “The most dangerous, most hated, or most in need of protection call this home. You’ve either got to know powerful people or have done something truly awful to get thrown in here.”
Bob whistled softly. “You been in here before, Kalan?”
Kalan shook his head. “I grew up hearing the stories, though, so I always wanted to get a glimpse of it. All the worst stone-cold serial murderers in the system locked in one block. I gotta say, the reality is honestly a little underwhelming.”
“It may not look like much,” Etter said, “but every creature in it is here for a reason. Watch yourself. You may have bested Zoras, but even you don’t want to mess with some of these guys.”
“I’ll take your word for that.”
They followed Etter to the apartment. Even though the doors of all SEDE apartments were kept open during daylight hours, Etter knocked politely. A mild-looking Skulla answered the door and took the bowl of gruel from Etter while exchang
ing pleasantries.
As they walked away Bob whispered to the others, “He seemed nice. Is he a political prisoner or something?”
Etter chuckled. “That, my friend, was the Rainy-Day Killer.”
“No kidding?” There was genuine surprise in Kalan’s voice. He glanced at Bob and noticed his confusion. “He killed—what, thirty old ladies? Left their bodies in their gardens.”
“But only on rainy days,” Etter added. “Come on, there’s much more work to do.”
He ran his hand over the scanner at the far end of the room and they wheeled the cart into the next chamber. It was identical to the first.
They went on like that for the better part of an hour, delivering food to murderers, terrorists, and maniacs. Some were polite, like the Rainy-Day Killer. Others were surly and a few were downright angry, but they all had one thing in common: they wanted to spend a few minutes chatting with Etter.
In some cases the conversation involved yelling. In others it was mostly awkward silence. But in every case, Etter knew exactly how to handle it. He soothed, commiserated, or reprimanded, and each prisoner appeared satisfied with the interaction.
When they entered the fifteenth chamber of the isolation block, Etter turned to them and smiled. “This is it—the home of Sslake, former Minister of the Vurugu System.”
Kalan drew a deep breath and looked at the apartment. It appeared identical to the others he’d seen, and yet the most popular politician of his lifetime lived here. He was the whole reason they’d come to SEDE.
As odd as it felt, he’d been enjoying making the rounds with Etter, but the fun times were over. It was time to get to work.
Etter approached and knocked, and a moment later a Skulla whose face Kalan had seen on a hundred digi-casts stepped into the doorway.
“Hello, Minister Sslake,” Etter said.
The Skulla male waved a hand in front of him dismissively. “I’ve told you there’s no need for formality, Etter. I’m simply ‘Sslake’ now.”
Etter grinned. “You can keep correcting me, sir, but I’m going to keep saying it.” He paused, then nodded toward Kalan and Bob. “You have some visitors, sir. I’m going to leave them with you while I complete the rest of my deliveries, then I’ll swing back through. Sounds like they have something to discuss with you.”
Sslake cast a discerning eye over Kalan and Bob. “I see. Very well, gentlemen. Would you like to come inside?”
“Yes, sir.” Kalan stepped through the door, followed closely by Bob. When they were inside he spoke again. “Sir, my name is Kalan Grayhewn, and I’ve been sent here by friends. We need your help.”
“Kalan,” Bob said, his voice thick with urgency. “Something’s not right. I hear—”
Before the human could finish something slammed into Kalan’s chest, lifting him off his feet and driving him back. His crashed into the wall and hung there, his feet six inches off the ground.
From the pressure around his neck he knew someone had him by the throat, but he didn’t see anyone in front of him.
There was only one explanation: it was a Shimmer.
Kalan tried to choke out a few words—anything to get this Shimmer to let go of him—but all that came out was a harsh croak.
Sslake stepped forward and stared up at Kalan, his eyes ice-cold. “This is my roommate Wearl. As you may have guessed, she’s a Shimmer. She’d like to know who sent you to kill me.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Planet Tol: The Water Plant
The two attackers were running by the time Valerie reached them, but a third had been waiting to blast her as she came around the corner. Damn, the shots had hurt. Oddly the Skulla was using an old pellet gun loaded with tiny explosives. If Valerie hadn’t dived to her left her face would’ve been full of holes instead of her arm getting peppered with pellets and one or two explosives.
At least the fight will be fairer now, she thought, grabbing the first attacker by the balls and tossing him over the railing to drop three stories.
She hoped that counted for Robin’s request, but now she had her own pain to get them back for. Her eyes glowed red as she charged the next-closest one. This time she leaped sideways and rolled as soon as she heard the shot coming, so she felt only the heat of the little blasts.
When she came up the second Skulla was aiming a trembling gun at her, his mouth moving as if he were praying.
“Who sent you?” she asked, snatching the gun out of his hands and backhanding him. She ducked down beside him, using the edge of one of the support beams for cover from the third shooter, and asked again. “Who the fuck sent you?”
He spat blood and mouthed “Wandrei,” which Valerie was beginning to understand was much more of an insult than she had originally thought, then tried to punch her.
She grabbed the fist and twisted until the wrist snapped, and then smiled. “Ah, your joints do work like ours.”
While his face turned red he tried to lunge at her, teeth bared and lips curled as if he were going to bite her.
Her response was an open palm to the nose. That sent him reeling backward, where he fell, twitched, and was still.
One more, and that meant only one more chance to find out who was behind this. Was it random, this planet’s equivalent of terrorists or rogue actors? She doubted it.
“Lower your weapon and come baring your soul,” she shouted to the third, “and maybe we can both walk out of here alive.”
A shot answered her.
Fine. She had left her sword on the ship, as it would have been too obvious to carry here, but she had concealed a small pistol. She drew it now, charging toward him and blasting at foot-level.
The Skulla pulled back and leaped behind a rock, but that had been her intent. He hadn’t known how fast she was, and by the time he had recovered she had advanced and pressed her gun to his head.
“Tell me everything and you get to die.” Her finger was on the trigger, ready to display his brains. “Who?”
“Go home! You’re not welcome here.” The male tried to struggle but she kicked him back down, still holding the pistol so that she could take his life at any minute. Her other arm was burning, but she knew the healing effects would kick in soon; it was all temporary. “Who was behind this?”
He was half-turned to her and she leaned in, letting him see her red eyes. She pushed fear, though she wasn’t sure it would be effective.
Against a human or Were or even other vampires, it had worked wonders. On this Skulla it had a different effect. He suddenly calmed, and then began blabbing.
“The Bandian, he tries to keep foreigners out of the contest. He makes moves on them before the fight. Sometimes they make it and enter, and that’s fine—they’ve got to be damn tough to survive both an attack like this and the Damu Michezo, especially since they’re usually wounded in the attack.”
“So that’s the game,” she said, relaxing slightly. Then she frowned, guard back up. “Why are you telling me this?”
He suddenly looked worried and shook his head. “Wh-what did you do to me?”
It was possible that he was faking it, but she decided to try again. Pushing fear, she asked, “What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?”
Again his eyes took on a distant look and he replied, “I shat myself the first day on the job for Noru, a warlord I used to work for. Everyone smelled it, but I tried to deny it was me until it started seeping out of my pants. It would’ve been less horrible if I hadn’t had to waddle home. Ran into the female of my dreams on the way.”
“Oh, damn.” Valerie stared in disgust, then started laughing. “That’s pretty bad.”
His face took on a horrified expression and he glanced at her, scared. He stuttered, “How the… How the h-h-hell did you do that?”
She pushed fear again. “Seems I have a built-in truth serum with your race. Weird, but let’s have fun with it. What’s the best way forward from here?”
“Go on as you were, enter the fight,
and hope your injury doesn’t get you killed.” His eyes flickered to her arm and she grunted.
“Right, I’ll have to have that looked at. And you? Are you going to attack me again if I let you live?”
His eyes narrowed, then took on that distant look again as she pushed fear harder. “No,” he replied. “Not as long as you break my legs or something.” Panic flashed across his face and he started to yell, “Don’t do tha—”
But it was too late. She had lifted a leg in an axe-stomp and brought the heel of her boot down hard on his ankle. They both heard the loud crack.
His grunts of pain were mixed with swear words as he struggled to pull himself toward his fallen gun. Valerie stepped forward and kicked it over the ledge, and then gave him a friendly nod.
“Hey, thanks for the info. And you know, don’t forget that I spared you if the chance should ever come your way to do the same.”
As she walked away he shouted after her, “Right after I break every bone in your damned body!”
She shrugged, because yeah, while that would suck, she would likely heal from it. There had been a time when pain had almost terrified her. It still pissed her off and she didn’t like it, but she’d take it over death any day, now that she knew her purpose in this universe.
When she found Robin, the woman was massaging her wound. It had started healing nicely, and would likely be done by the time they reached Warlord Palnik’s mansion.
They went the rest of the way together in peace, complaining and laughing about their injuries. Robin especially liked the part when Valerie had grabbed the guy by the balls to throw him.
“Don’t get me wrong, I respect the family jewels,” she said, “but after a bastard tries to shoot me it’s over. No more respect.”
“Right. A guy tries to kill a lady, I’d say that nullifies his rights to offspring.”
