Saturn knelt down and used her free hand to pick up a loose bolt from between the grated metal flooring. The ship was littered with bits of debris after the devastating crash that left her and her crew stranded on Garuda. She watched the light from the orbs dance across the inner hull, the shadows engaged in an argument as intense as the one brewing between the soldiers. Now was her chance.
“What’s going on?” The Captain asked the two Ansarans, descending the steps into the main hold.
“Nothing, sir,” the shorter of the two babbled, taken aback by his superior’s sudden appearance.
The soldiers’ orb-light was now directed at the Captain, so Saturn stole a glance around the cargo container. The taller of the subordinates stepped forward and began to say something, but the other soldier hit his chest plate with the bottom of his closed fist.
“Save it,” the captain ordered, his muffled voice taking on a twinge of urgency, “Something’s missing from the cockpit.”
“What is it, Sir?” the sergeant asked.
“Hard to say. The human technology lacks any semblance of logic. We’ll need to get one of the analysts out here to know for certain.”
The captain pointed to the open door to the outside.
“Alert Alpha and Delta squads, get a few ships in the air. Whoever our thief is, they can’t have gone far.”
“Yes, Sir!” the soldiers said together.
Saturn listened to two sets of footsteps leave the ship, waiting for the third, which never came. She couldn’t wait around forever. Someone was bound to come back eventually. The clanking of boots on metal resounded as the remaining soldier paced the hold. Saturn pressed her back up against the cargo crate, sweat seeping through her garments along her graceful spine.
The cargo bay was lit by a single orb, the bearer of which allowing only a thin beam escape his fingers. Saturn felt her teeth come together and the muscles in her jaw tighten. She never enjoyed killing. It was simply something that had to be done sometimes. The only problem occurred where the line blurred. Logically, she knew she had no quarrel with the soldier that still occupied the room. There might even be a way out of her situation without killing. Maybe.
Saturn thought of Liam, her late captain. He was killed by a mercenary in blue armor known only as Death Wish. The armor was similar to that worn by the Ansaran Guard. In her mind she knew the only man who absolutely had to die was that mercenary, but if she had the chance to take out some of his fellow Ansarans, should she really pass it up?
Footsteps continued to clank along the metal floor, sluggishly making their way toward Saturn’s position. The orb-light moved back and forth on the wall in a calculated manner. Saturn’s heartbeat hastened. She felt hot blood rushing to her extremities and a surge of adrenaline engorge her veins. Saturn saw Liam’s dying breath over and over again, replayed in a loop inside her head. The sudden rush of energy turned swiftly to unbridled fury. The Ansarans, the Kraven; hell, even some of the Dinari had managed to take everything away from her. It was time for them to pay the price.
The directed beams of light illuminated blocky yellow lettering painted on the wall a meter shy of Saturn’s face. It read: No Open Flames Near Reactor.
“Primitive,” the captain scoffed.
Saturn turned the bolt in her left hand and closed her fist. She slid along the side of the cargo container that served as her cover and tossed the bolt toward the cockpit. It clinked and clanked, finally rolling into an indent in the flooring. She heard the Ansaran turn and felt the light shift in the room with him. She peered around the container, careful not to expose herself too much. The soldier stepped cautiously toward the source of the sound, right hand reflexively on the laser rifle slung over the front of his chest.
The orb shifted in his hand until he barely gripped it, letting light flood around his fingers like a lantern filling a cavern. Saturn moved silently around the soldier’s backside, close enough to reach out and touch him. She lifted her blade and eyed the crease in his armor at the neck. Her vision began to blur, the tears that were all too familiar to her were about to make their return. Saturn hardened herself, preparing for what must be done. She gripped the knife with all of her strength and moved in for the kill. The Ansaran turned and leveled his weapon. Saturn gasped.
3
Sector Three, Garuda Colony
Nix pulled his thick brown hood closer around his cheeks, the amber hue of his scales cloaked in the darkness of the alley’s shadows. The wind was cutting, jolting him into a higher state of awareness. He wore the traditional robe of the Dinari people; plain, brown, and rough to the touch. Nix didn’t wear it because he enjoyed it, rather, to blend in amongst sheep. Specs of coarse sand plinked off the exposed scales of his hands and face, skillfully finding their way down through the valleys between them. The claws of his bare feet dug into the loose sand of the seldom-trodden alleyway, the ground retaining little heat from the previous day. Nix sucked in a breath of air, holding it and letting his lungs feel the chilling burn before finally releasing it. His nostrils flared, the slits becoming ovular for a short time and taking in all manner of smells from the street; the remnants of a Dinari family’s dinner, the smoke of a small fire, and the foul wastewater clogging the gutters on either side of the alley.
He felt his already hard features toughen, jaw and cheeks remaining flexed and his spine fixed in a state of attention. Only his neck remained loose, swiveling this way and that in search of movement of any kind. The Dinari was growing more frustrated with every additional minute his associate was late. Nix didn’t like to wait, but the advanced age of his friend and mentor more than accounted for his absence. So far.
Ten minutes passed before Nix saw the familiar huddled shadow of his contact appear at the head of the alleyway. The old Dinari used his gnarled walking stick to brace himself with every step. When he grew closer, Nix could make out the deep cracks in his scales which always reminded him of aged leather.
The old man’s eyes used to shine like so many spinning galaxies dancing across the night sky. Now, they reflected less light than they once did, appearing a muted gold that only truly regained their glimmer when the light from the full moon hit them in just the right fashion. For a brief moment, Nix saw those enchanting eyes in a sliver of moonlight, but it quickly faded as Elder Bartle stepped into the gloom of a building’s canopy. Tired lines formed around his eyes and trailed off into the intersections of his scales, intensified by shadow. His frail body was hunched over his gnarled staff, which over the years had nearly become a part of his own body.
“Elder Bartle,” Nix said with a hushed voice and a cordial bow of his head.
“It’s good to see you again.”
Nix raised his head and took in the elder’s gaze. Elder Bartle wasn’t the type to summon him unless absolutely necessary, especially given the increased scrutiny since the recent change in power. Nix took one step toward the elder and lowered his voice even further.
“Why have you called me here?”
The aged Dinari reached into his tattered brown cloak and pulled out a metallic disc no thicker than the tip of his claws. Pressing the flat circular button at its center, a hologram rose up several centimeters from the disc. Words scrolled by accompanied by Dinari pictographs. It was a cargo hauler’s manifest.
“What’s this for?” Nix asked, eyes tracking the flowing words and symbols.
“As you know, I’ve gotten closer to Zega than we’d ever hoped. He trusts me. If we hope to regain this colony, I must remain his advisor. But there is something you must do.”
Nix wasn’t sure of the elder’s point, but he was fairly certain it couldn’t be good for him or the crew. The information he’d acquired by acting as Zega’s advisor had helped him and the rest of the crew escape detection for several months. But, he was starting to get the feeling something had changed.
“What’s wrong, Elder?”
Elder Bartle sighed and closed his eyes. When he spoke, it was as if he was relea
sing himself of a great burden.
“Death Wish. He’s left the colony, and rumor has it with an accomplice. I overhead Zega speaking with the mercenary in his chamber. He was headed to Rumani.”
“Rumani? The habitable zone has been shrinking all the time. Apart from a few wrecked star cruisers from the war it’s just a trading colony.”
“Nevertheless, this could be the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. Inside Garuda Colony, Death Wish can hide in the shadows, but out there,” the elder said pointing to the night sky, “He’ll be far easier to track. You can avenge their deaths.”
Nix’s mind flashed with images of Liam Kidd and his old friend Sestra. A deep anger boiled within him as he remembered her face. He and Sestra had been through a lot together, and seeing her captured, helpless, was hard enough, let alone watching her die so mercilessly at Death Wish’s hands.
“Then the cargo hauler?” Nix asked, trying to remain focused on the present.
“Supplies for your journey. Direct the hauler to The Garuda and leave at once.”
The elder’s normally droopy eyes were propped open far wider than Nix had seen in a long time. Elder Bartle’s fear betrayed him. His voice was shaking and the urgency he exuded wasn’t like him at all.
“It’s a trap, isn’t it?”
“I assure you, this is a necessary ploy. Zega knows of my relationship to you. He suspects I’ve been helping you and your friends.”
Nix could barely control the fury in his voice.
“What are you thinking, old man? I thought I was more to you than a chip to be bargained.”
Elder Bartle ignored his protégé and continued his instructions, “Take the disc, direct the hauler to your ship, and be gone! I wasn’t able to buy you much time. Zega’s forces will be close behind.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I’ll be more use to you if Zega trusts me implicitly. There’s no alternative, I assure you. Now take it!”
Elder Bartle forced the disc into his clawed hand and closed Nix’s fingers around it.
“We all have our burdens to bear, young one. I must stay and do what I can for this colony, but your destiny lies elsewhere. We’ve spoken at length about what’s coming, though there’s no time to tie together the threads. I fear the resurgence is closer than either of us imagined. Stop Death Wish. The fate of more than this colony depends on it. Remember The Three. Remember the Spiral.”
Nix’s head of steam began to simmer. He gripped the metal disc tightly and nodded.
“I remember Elder.”
“Then go. And never forget what I have taught you.”
Nix bowed his head once more and took off toward the opposite end of the alley where he’d parked his hover bike. He could ruminate over the elder’s choice of tactics later. For now, he had to get back to The Garuda, and fast.
4
Outside Garuda Colony
Ju-Long rose from his thin sleeping pad and rubbed the crust out of his eyes. He found his previous day’s pants crumpled up on the ground. After giving them the sniff-test, he pulled them on one leg at a time, the tight tan material akin to cotton with numerous tactical pockets and slots sewn into them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his blue-skinned lover rustle under the fur blanket he’d acquired in a game of Plinket at The Sand’s Edge Bar. The red fur offset Astrid’s skin nicely, the soft light from a single orb working to blend one against the other.
Her graceful features were nothing like the Ansaran men he’d seen, with their bulbous black eyes and hard bone structures. Astrid’s much smaller eyes shifted between blue and green depending on her mood, their appearance almost human. The way they glowed when she was upset, however, was decidedly non-human. The geometric tattoos that crawled down her neck came into a spiral at the sides of her bare breasts. Her scales were so fine they were hardly perceptible unless Ju-Long looked up close or dragged his hand against their elegant grain. For the first time in months he noticed she didn’t have any hair on her body. Even when sleeping she was exotic and sensual all at the same time, captivating him beyond measure.
Ju-Long turned to the small vanity built into the wall near the entrance to his quarters. He’d gotten even tanner in recent months. What would his parents say? Probably that he’d been working outside too much and risked being mistaken for a commoner. Ju-Long didn’t live under any illusions that his family was anything but well-to-do. It almost killed his mother when he went into the sciences rather than business like his father. He’d rather get blown out an airlock than be a corporate lackey, especially a flunky for Vesta Corporation like his dad. The thought of himself in a suit made him shudder.
He examined the stubble on his chin under the low orb-light, using his hand to feel the rough grain. His blocky face didn’t look good with the sort of patchy facial hair his ancestry had bestowed upon him. Ju-Long rubbed more of the sleep out of his eyes. He’d get around to shaving after breakfast.
Ju-Long took one last look at the sleeping Astrid before pressing his hand to the pad on the wall. The flat screen lit up dimly beneath his hand and the door opened a few centimeters. Ju-Long grasped the door and slid it aside, but not without a good deal of exertion. He stepped out into the corridor, his bare feet pressing uncomfortably on the cold grated metal. The Garuda had been sitting in a valley north of the colony for weeks, which meant the temperature inside the ship was highly dependent on the play of shadows and the intensity of the sun. At night it was freezing, but by the heat of the day it was nearly unbearable within the ship. It might as well have been a pressure cooker. They couldn’t turn on the main systems without risking being tracked, so they were working off of low-grade auxiliary power, with sometimes spotty results.
Ju-Long rounded the corner and ambled through the nearly empty cargo bay toward the cockpit, rubbing his eyes with one hand and scratching his bare chest with the other. Saturn and Nix had been gone for more than twelve hours and neither was clear on where they’d be going. If one of them didn’t bring back supplies he worried what nonsense Nix would cook up to keep their bellies satisfied. Dinari were known for using even the most questionable of food scraps.
A rumble shook the deck under his feet. Pistons went to work and the main cargo ramp began to lower. A hint of light tickled the mountaintops outside the ship and silhouetted an approaching figure. Ju-Long squinted, for a moment his awareness spiking and adrenaline beginning to pump through his veins. After a moment he relaxed and a smirk curled up his lip.
“Where have you been?” Ju-Long asked as the figure ascended the ramp.
Saturn avoided Ju-Long’s gaze. Sand colored her black outfit, having found its way into many of the creases and building up on her boots. She’d recently cut her sun-tinged brown hair to shoulder-length and Ju-Long still wasn’t used to the look. Because she’d done it herself, the tips were unevenly cut and she looked like she was making some sort of statement. What that statement was, exactly, eluded him.
“I had a job,” Saturn replied as she ascended the ramp.
Ju-Long crossed his arms over his chest and quipped, “Working deals on the side? In case you hadn’t noticed, we don’t work for any ruthless gangsters anymore.”
“This one was personal.”
Saturn didn’t stop, brushing past him and taking off in the direction of the cockpit. Ju-Long threw his hands up and followed her.
“You know this mopey act is getting real old,” Ju-Long said, seizing her shoulder and spinning her around to face him.
His eyes trailed down her chest and to her side.
“Shit, are you bleeding?” Ju-Long asked, touching the dark spot on her tunic.
“It’s not my blood.”
Ju-Long brought his fingers up to the orb hovering near the corridor’s ceiling. The dark purple hue of the liquid confirmed her statement.
“I can see that. Who’s the poor sap this time?”
“Someone who won’t be needing it anymore.”
Ju-Long grasped both of her shou
lders tightly in his hands.
“This has to stop, Saturn,” Ju-Long said, his eyes boring deep into his counterpart’s, “Liam’s dead. He’s gone.”
Tears began to well up in the corners of Saturn’s eyes and Ju-Long could sense she was about to lose control. He felt a twinge of guilt and a flurry of ice coalesced in his stomach. Ju-Long’s intention wasn’t to hurt her, but she needed to return to the real world and deal with her grief.
“We both saw it, Ju-Long. In the desert. He’s alive.”
“Nix explained The Union to us. He can’t come back. He’s a part of this ship now. It’s done.”
Ju-Long pointed one finger to the grated metal flooring beneath his feet and continued to make his point, “There’s no telling how much of his soul was merged with the beast. In any case, he’s gone. The process can’t be reversed.”
Saturn shook her head and wiped tears from her cheeks. She stared back at him with a stubborn resolve.
“There’s a way and I’m going to find it,” she said, making sure to pronounce every last syllable so her meaning wasn’t lost.
“This isn’t healthy, Saturn.”
Ju-Long noticed a blue light emanating from the cloth satchel suspended from her right shoulder.
“What’s in the bag?” He asked her. “Is that what I think it is?”
Saturn broke free of his grasp and moved the satchel around behind her back.
“You had to know I was going to retrieve it sooner or later.”
“I didn’t make you the power source so you could go it alone. This was our mission. We were going to do this as a team when the heat died down.”
Saturn shook her head and continued walking toward the cockpit along the curving corridor.
She called over her shoulder, “I saw an opportunity and I took it. Now do you want to see what I found or don’t you?”
Ju-Long hesitated, watching her go with his mouth slightly agape. To say she was infuriating would be an understatement.
The Lost Corsair (The Corsair Uprising Space Opera Series Book 4) Page 2
