Flotsam

by R J Theodore

Sophie bit her lip. Looked to Talis. “What about Dug?”

  “When did they take him? How long’s he been gone?”

  “A few hours. It all happened this morning.”

  “He’ll be safe for now,” Talis said, desperately hoping it was true. She rubbed her arm. She’d applied Zeela’s salve to the brand and it helped with the pain, but the skin still felt tight and she couldn’t stop touching it, tracing the raised skin where Onaya Bone’s sigil marked her. “We need to do this before the aliens stop focusing on their jailed shipmates and start paying more attention to us.”

  Sophie nodded at her. “Okay, where do we start?”

  “Scrimshaw was going to draw us a map,” Talis said. She patted xist face again, to no effect. “Without that, I’ve got no idea. The ring could be anywhere.”

  “You want to search the ship?” Tisker’s opinion of that idea was clearly indicated by his raised eyebrow.

  Talis took a short, steadying breath and squared her shoulders.

  “I want to blow up the ship,” she said. “Then search the rubble.”

  Chapter 28

  The metal ramp touched down, and they waited in silence. After a moment, four Yu’Nyun stepped out. They were dressed in unadorned loincloths and armbands. Lackeys, Talis thought, and hoped that meant her absence from the exchange would not raise alarm.

  The aliens paused for a moment, then made their way, a shining plastic coffer rolling between them, down to the docks where Sophie waited.

  “Keep them busy,” Talis had told Sophie. All the girl’s enthusiasm for the aliens had left her.

  Sophie was armed with paperwork documenting the contract. Between the formality of greetings and introductions, forms to sign, crate contents to verify, and language barriers to cross, Talis figured they had maybe twenty minutes at best. More if Sophie could convince them to let her count the money. It was highly inadvisable to do that right there on the docks where anyone could watch, with the ship empty except for a dying alien in their med bay. The full strength of the mob had not returned, but there were plenty of curious onlookers who gravitated to the scene when the aliens emerged from their ship. Talis didn’t care. She just wanted to keep the aliens on the docks for as long as possible.

  She and Tisker watched, crouched beneath the aliens’ own access, as the clutch of birdlike toes pittered on the metal above their heads and the casters on the bottom of the crate made a smooth purr against the ramp. The group reached the ground, and the sound changed to an abrasive rumble on the uneven, sandy surface of the docks.

  When the aliens had passed with some distance to spare, Talis nodded. She ducked out from under their hiding spot and vaulted onto the ramp. Tisker followed her up through the open hatch. The leather-soled boots they wore made a soft hush of their footfalls until they passed the bare metal entry chamber of the ship. Once beyond the inner hatch, the thin layer of flat-pile material made their steps completely silent. The quiet hum of the ship’s systems enveloped them as they left the daylight behind. She allowed a moment for their eyes to adjust to the overly bright illumination, and then pushed forward.

  They rounded the curve of a corridor and came up behind a Yu’Nyun crew member. By xist simple adornment, no one important. Tisker flicked a blade from its holder with the barest sound. Loud enough that the alien’s head turned, but not before Tisker slipped it between the joins where neck met shoulders. A small sound, barely a gasp, escaped his victim and then Tisker caught the body as it fell forward.

  Talis found and opened a small storage compartment with a touch on a wall panel, and Tisker tucked the alien inside, removing his knife only after the body was clear of the hallway. The door closed with a soft hum, slowly enough that Talis could see the blue blood drip and begin to absorb into the carpet.

  The latch engaged again with a muted click.

  They waited a moment, but there was no sound of alarm, no approaching footfalls from either end of the corridor. Talis nodded to Tisker, and they continued.

  Moving silently, as systematically as they could without a map, they took every chance to pass through doors along the interior bulkheads. Their aim was to get into the belly of the ship. Sophie’s best guess put the engine room on a lower deck, balancing the weight of the round vessel. Scrimshaw didn’t wake to confirm the theory before they needed to act.

  There was an alien or two posted on each deck, and Talis and Tisker took turns killing them as quietly as possible. Despite the death that had accompanied Talis back from the temple, these were the first aliens she killed herself. She couldn’t help but remember Scrimshaw’s own brittle throat beneath her hands, and the shudder that trembled down her shoulders and back as she felt their necks crack between her forearms was only partially in disgust at the touch of the strange bodies beneath her skin. Each body was tucked into the nearest empty compartment.

  She had no idea what they were looking for, exactly. Put a lot of faith in the hunch that she’d know it when she saw it. They opened hatches on crew quarters (thankfully empty), on storage compartments, on lifts. Finally, Talis started to recognize a pattern to the labels that flashed on the plastic panels beside each doorway, and they were able to skip berths and messes.

  They encountered two doors with distinct markings. The first turned out to be a medical bay. Tisker shot her a look as they entered, loaded with the same thought she’d had, that it almost would have been worth dragging Scrimshaw along if they’d known they’d find the alien medical facilities. Tisker motioned toward the wall just inside the door, and Talis saw what he did: a portable case mounted at eye level. She pulled it free of the bracket that mounted it to the bulkhead and checked its contents. Despite the differences in their technology and their anatomy, she recognized the trappings of a field medkit. Handed it to Tisker, who slung its adjustable strap over his shoulder.

  The second uniquely marked door was located three corridors in and two levels down. It opened on a dark room, no bigger than Wind Sabre’s modest galley. The bulkheads were lined with a bank of control panels which glowed dimly orange. There were five large alien crates arranged within the room, tall and narrow enough that it was easy to imagine Yu’Nyun hiding within, arching head and all. The crates stood like pale glossy monoliths. In front of each was a pedestal, with a clear acrylic tube mounted in the center and a black and orange-lit control panel.

  The door slid closed behind them and soft lights came on as they stepped inside. It wasn’t the engine room, but it might have saved them the trouble.

  On the left-most pedestal, Lindent Vein’s ring had been placed over the tube as if displayed on a jeweler’s counter. The control panel of that pedestal was lit in blue and pulsed gently. A corresponding blue light blinked in time on the crate opposite.

  “Can’t be good, can it?” Tisker said, his voice still in a whisper. He bent down to eye-level with the ring. “Never wished I’d been born Vein before, but it could be handy now.”

  “As long as you’re wishing, wish Scrimshaw was with us.” She plucked the ring off the end of the little tube on its pedestal. “Because your captain probably just did something really reckless.”

  Tisker opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by a small soft tone. The blue light on the crate went dark. The lid opened, swinging toward them with a gentle puff of air.

  “Sand and fire!” Tisker swore.

  “See, what did I say? Properly reckless.” Talis took a step back toward the door.

  A Yu’Nyun form stepped forward from the crate. Its body was translucent, like condensation on a cold glass. Within, pearlescent pink and silver swirled, moving as the figure did. Not organs. Just… filling.

  It was also naked.

  Tisker brought up his knife, and the figure stopped. Blinked at them with pearlescent white eyes, disturbingly like a Vein’s moonstone eyes. Except these were very clearly not blind. It looked from the knife up the connectin
g arm to Tisker, then turned to Talis.

  “The ring is yours?” the goo-filled alien asked her. It used Cutter Tongue, not even the Common Trade that the translator pads used.

  Talis swallowed against the thud of her racing pulse, which seemed to be collapsing her windpipe. “Yes.”

  “Please place the ring on your finger.”

  Talis turned to Tisker, who returned her confused look and shrugged. “Asked politely enough.”

  The ring was large, so she slid it on over her index finger, but still had to squeeze her fingers and bend the knuckle to keep it in place. The metal was warm, as though it had been left out in the heat of the desert.

  The thing moved toward her, and she fought the instinct to take another step back. With each step, its gelatinous form shifted. The sweep of the head seemed to melt down its neck. Its body grew more stout, lost height as its feet shifted out of the tridactyl tiptoe position. The arch of its foot lengthened, bones pressed out of shape.

  The translucence began to thicken, and its light faded as the skin became an opaque, rich brown. Talis was reminded of oak. Of nutmeg.

  By the time Talis looked back up from the feet, its entire body had transformed into the shape of a Cutter woman.

  Only it wasn’t quite right for Cutter. She had strong cheekbones, like a Bone woman. But her nose was flatter and wider, and she had an underbite with the hint of large lower canines, almost like a Breaker. The warm brown skin was too far from Cutter golden, yet too pale for Bone. And the intense blue eyes were like nothing Talis had ever seen.

  Small braids above the smooth forehead wove flat against her skin, keeping the hair out of her eyes. At the crown, the hair was loosed into a wild cascade of thick matted curls that reached to her hips. Some segments tangled like Talis’s own prayerlocks, some in neat braids.

  Pale blue dots of light marched in neat lines across her arms, stomach, and thighs. If Talis hadn’t just watched her take form—and if the marks weren’t glowing blue—she’d have said they looked like the stick-and-poke tattoos she’d seen bored mercs give each other on long expeditions. They crossed over the woman’s frame, enhancing her contours. Sinuous. Muscle-bound. Her body was compact, but in the way a coil shrinks before it expands with all the strength of the metal behind it.

  She was taut, strung like a bow. Waiting to be released.

  She was a warrior. Talis knew it like she knew how to find her own nose.

  And she was still naked.

  “Thank you,” the woman said. Her voice was dusk and smoke. The purr of a cat, the wind in tacking sails. The feel of rum hitting your belly.

  She reached out to cup Talis’s face between her hands. Standing up on tiptoes, she touched her forehead to Talis’s own.

  There was a snap of electricity that passed between them, then the woman stepped back and waited. Her arms held relaxed at her sides, her back straight and proud. There was no awkwardness to the pose, no impatience. She just waited.

  “Cap!” Tisker hissed. His eyes were wide as saucers.

  “Did you feel that?” Talis rubbed at her forehead, which still tingled. The feeling went deeper than her skin.

  “Feel what? I saw that. Really something. But maybe we should go.” His gaze darted to the door, as if expecting a troop of Yu’Nyun to rush in.

  The woman watched her, silhouetted against the darkness of the empty crate. The other four crates remained closed and silent, their control pedestals dark. No rings, but their count made the clear intention to claim them all. Alien technology, interfaced with Pre-Cataclysm amulets.

  “The aliens made you?” Talis spoke as the thought occurred to her. It didn’t even feel like her own idea.

  “This body,” the woman replied. Talis thought she heard the hint of offended pride. “The mind is my own.”

  “Maybe you can help us find the engine,” Talis said.

  The woman made no response but walked swiftly past Talis and out through the automated doors.

  Talis and Tisker exchanged a look.

  “This day did not need to get any more interesting than it already was,” Talis muttered, and motioned for Tisker to follow her out.

  Chapter 29

  At least a dozen aliens appeared around the corridor, armed. Spotting Talis and Tisker first, they brought their rifles to bear on them.

  The woman slinking along the bulkhead was upon the aliens before they saw her. She stepped into the center of the corridor and placed her palms on the chests of the first two. Bowed her head, appeared to be concentrating, maybe praying. Then they simply fell away.

  Not down. Away. Their bodies were no more. Something splashed on the floor at her feet.

  The Yu’Nyun crew stopped their advance, aimed their rifles at the stranger instead, but hesitated. They looked to each other. The one in front, nearest the woman, said something in Yu’keem.

  The strange woman reached a hand toward the speaker, palm out, parallel to xist chest, and replied with a single word, spoken clearly in the alien language.

  As a group, the aliens moved back a step. Whatever she was, they were afraid of her. Afraid to fire at her. Small red lights on the sides of their rifles went dark and they lowered the weapons.

  The stranger advanced on the Yu’Nyun, one step at a time. They gave up ground, moving backward to match each step of the woman’s. They held their rifles down, but ready. They didn’t turn, didn’t fully retreat.

  “Come on,” said Tisker, giving Talis a brief clap on her upper arm to get her going.

  As the stranger pushed back the Yu’Nyun wall, Talis and Tisker moved along behind.

  More aliens approached ahead, and Talis heard the newcomers rasping and grating, speaking to the first group.

  “What are they saying?” Talis felt exposed as she called out, as though she was safely hidden so long as she remained quiet. But the aliens could see her as well as she could see them. Only the presence of the woman who was neither Yu’Nyun nor Peridot native kept almost a dozen alien rifles from unloading at Talis and Tisker.

  The woman looked back over her shoulder, a predatory smile curving on her lips.

  “Not to destroy me.”

  Then she increased her pace, strolling confidently toward the aliens as though she was walking through a garden.

  The aliens watched her, carefully retreating one step at a time. As though she were a lit fuse on a full powder keg.

  If only, Talis thought. This standoff was costing them time, making every minute more dangerous. She recalled how the woman had disintegrated the first aliens they met in the corridor and silently wished she would just do that with the whole crowd.

  And then she did. She darted into the group with sudden, surprising speed, bare hands out. A lethal touch on each one, and after a moment she stood alone in a puddle of dark blue.

  Talis looked down at the ring on her finger. It had spun to sit sideways, and she had to keep her hand balled into a fist to prevent it from sliding off.

  Ahead, the stranger waited for them by the open door of a lift.

  “Scrimshaw better survive to explain where in all five spinning hells she came from,” Tisker said, eyeing the woman warily as he passed her to enter the lift’s chamber.

  She stepped in with them and the door closed. The intense blue of her eyes flickered, dark for a moment, then the lift began to move. She addressed Talis but answered Tisker’s question.

  “This body is a simula. An object is assigned as the mechanism by which the simula identifies its affiliations. In this case the ring was the source of the simula’s programming, but its forces have been transferred to this vessel and the object is now empty. The mechanism could have been any object that could be conveniently carried. Assigning it as the ring was convenient and appeared to have symbolic significance.” The woman tilted her head. “That is the basis of this device’s operation. Ho
wever, I am more than the sum of that explanation.”

  “Well,” said Talis, feeling her eyebrows up as high as they’d go. “There you go, Tisker.”

  “Right, then.” Tisker gave the woman a considering glance, removed his jacket, and offered it to her. “You got a name?”

  The woman stared at his jacket, her head tilted like a confused dog. “I am Meran, and I do not require your garment.”

  Tisker looked to Talis for help, but she only cracked a smile in amusement. “Hey, if it doesn’t bother her, it doesn’t bother me.”

  Tisker shook his head, coming up short with his usual supply of sly comments, and shrugged back into his jacket.

  The lift came to a halt and the door opened on a group of aliens, armed and waiting for them. The lead alien held a circlet of shining metal, hinged on one side, open toward Meran. Xe edged forward into the lift, raising the device toward the simula’s forehead.

  She seemed to go rigid, eyes locked on the device. Red lights blinked around its curved inner circumference. Apparently Meran was not going to defend herself, or even move out of the way.

  Talis thumbed back the hammer on her revolver. The noise echoed in the quiet of the lift and kicked everyone into motion.

  Tisker moved around Meran, both of his switchblades at the ready, and stabbed the alien holding the circlet through the base of xist throat.

  An alien rifle fired as Tisker pushed his victim into the crowded corridor.

  The circlet fell to the floor, landing on its hinge so that it closed with a click. Meran blinked, free from her trance, and leaped out of the lift.

  Talis panned for a clear shot, found it, and hit one alien squarely above the brow ridge. Xist forehead shattered like porcelain.

  Tisker’s knife found home beneath another alien’s collarbone. As the alien fell, xe brought xist rifle up to fire. A searing light, and the switchblade in Tisker’s left hand dropped to the floor.

  His jacket sleeve burned and smoked.