by Calista Skye
“Yeah, I’m on my way. You know I wouldn’t be late. This job is too important.”
“Of course not. You’re far too boring and responsible for that,” said Kira. The blazing sun of Tarksis hadn’t even crested the horizon and Kira was already jabbing at her. “But today…let’s just say you don’t want to miss this. Trust me.”
“Right, since that always turns out so well.” Lana recognized the tone of her best friend’s voice. She knew it all too well. It never meant anything good. And she had a pretty good idea what Kira wanted. She nearly ended the transmission right then and there. She didn’t have the energy for whatever ill-conceived nonsense Kira had planned. But curiosity got the better of her. “Alright, fine. What don’t I want to miss?”
Kira’s lips parted into a wide smile as she leaned in closer to the comm screen. “I thought you’d never ask. Maybe there’s hope for you after all,” she said. “Fresh transport full of new recruits showed up today. There’s more sexy running around here today than I’ve ever seen. Like, ever. This crop’s even better than last time. Abs as far as the eye can see.”
Lana rolled her eyes. Hard. Kira had some ill-conceived obsession with nabbing herself a Kamaran husband. Sure, the Kamarans had exquisitely chiseled bodies. Smooth golden skin. Radiant, captivating eyes. They were fine to look at, and Lana didn’t blame her friend for that.
But the Kamarans weren’t good people. Warlike, rude, selfish, and hungry for power, they’d managed to turn a bearable existence on this barren, desert wasteland of a planet into a veritable nightmare.
When Tarksis was settled, the smattering of human colonists made a reasonable go at life, excavating enough metal from the mines to trade for food and supplies. But then the Kamaran military showed up eight years ago, taking over the government and commandeering the mines.
It was a trade deal negotiated by corrupt politicians who didn’t give two roquillion tail feathers about the people who’d made their lives there. As long as they got the metal for their growing fleet, the colonists could all die in the mines. Or starve to death on the meager wages they paid. Even the cargo pilots, like Lana, could barely afford to feed themselves.
“Ugh. The sooner we get off this rock, the better,” Lana said.
“Don’t be such a spoilsport. I’m sure there’s at least one good Kamaran out there. Hell, he might be right here, just waiting to sweep you off your feet and ‘get the hell off this rock’ with you.”
“Yeah…no. Somehow I doubt that. And if a Kamaran ever did try to sweep me off my feet, I’d punch him right in his perfectly handsome jaw.” She smiled at the mental movie. She’d almost welcome a chance to do it just to see the shock on his face. But she pushed the thought away. There were more important things to worry about. “You know you can’t trust them, right? There’s always something they’re after. The Kamarans are always working some angle.”
“You’re no fun, Riley.”
“Nope. But you love me anyway.”
“Somebody has to. No one can get through life on this planet alone. And you? Hell, you’re too busy taking care of everybody else to take care of yourself. Speaking of which, how’s your brother?”
No one could push her buttons like Kira. And worse, she knew her friend was right. But loneliness and wishful thinking wouldn’t make a perfect man fall from the sky. And the Kamarans were off the table.
“He’s surviving. His symptoms aren’t as bad as my mother’s were. He’ll hang in there long enough for me to get him the serum.” One of these days, she’d be able to afford it. But the serum they needed to cure the Rend was notoriously difficult to synthesize, even if they managed to get their hands on the ingredients. Without the dust of an Anaran moonlily ground into the mixture, the serum would kill a person outright. Still, clinging to hope was all she had. “Besides, Tanner’s a fighter. And he’s got me to help him.”
“Sure would be easier if you had someone to help you out.”
Lana bristled. “You never give up, do you?”
Fate had dealt her an unfair hand. But it was her hand, and she didn’t need anyone to rescue her. Least of all a Kamaran.
“All I’m saying is, don’t give up, Lana. One of these days, you’ll change your tune. Your prince will come. And in the meantime, I’m not going to let you ruin my fun. Good people or not, some of us still have needs. And these guys…Yum.”
Kira turned the holocomm to a painfully handsome Kamaran man with broad, muscular shoulders walking across the atrium. He wasn’t dressed in the typical uniform of the marine recruits. In fact, Lana noticed, he wasn’t wearing a uniform at all. The man moved through the hall with poise. An easy casual grace that looked out of place amongst the grunts.
Lana couldn’t peel her eyes away. She would never admit it, but…damn. Kira was right. She felt her skin flushing. It had been too long since she’d felt a pair of strong hands running along her soft, curvy body. And that man’s hands would be perfect. A distraction would be a nice change of pace.
After the mission was complete.
“So, the ship?”
“We’re all fueled up. Comm system’s triple checked and ready to go. We still need to install new sensors for the nav system, though. Especially since we’re headed through the Gamma quadrant. You’re bringing them with you, right? Not that I don’t trust your fancy piloting skills.”
Shit. The new sensors. Lana forgot to track them down at the bazaar yesterday.
“Yeah…I’ll bring them.” She chastised herself for forgetting. Their route through the Gamma quadrant would take them straight through the Dennegar Belt. For most pilots, navigating the massive maze of asteroids would be suicide. Even a skilled pilot like Lana wouldn’t risk it without upgrading the nav sensors. “I just need to go pick them up first,” she added quietly.
“Okay Riley. Take your time. I’ll just be here enjoying the show.”
Lana stifled a sigh and thumbed off the holocomm, but not before catching a glimpse of Kira rushing off to get a better view of a shirtless cadet doing calisthenics. At least now Lana had an excuse to stay away from that impending train wreck. It was almost as if she forgot on purpose. Lana wasn’t the type to believe fate had some grand plan for her. But a little coincidence like this? Maybe the universe was conspiring in her favor for once.
***
She crossed the cramped hall of her small clay home into Tanner’s room. It was a modest place, a far cry from the opulent riches and the ‘land of opportunity’ that the colonists were promised. That was reserved for the gentry. A fact of life that Lana and most of the other colonists learned too late. But Lana didn’t mind so much. She had what she needed. Most of the human colonists on Tarksis had modest accommodations, and the Rileys were no exception. There was no shortage of metal in the mines, but nearly every ounce of precious tarkanium was traded away for food that wouldn’t grow on the arid wasteland. And the Kamaran government took their “fair share”, too, leaving the colonists bereft of their dreams of the good life.
But humanity had always been resilient, and the colonists were no exception. They built their small homes from the sun-hardened clay, focusing their attention on survival.
She gazed fondly at her brother, still splayed out across his bunk. The morning sunlight peeked in through a gap in their tattered cloth blinds, but it wasn’t enough to wake him. Hell, a Kamaran Imperial parade complete with an air show and pyrotechnics display wouldn’t have been enough to wake him most days.
But Lana didn’t begrudge him the sleep. She was grateful for every moment he didn’t have to suffer the agonizing pain of the Rend as it slowly ate away at his body.
She wished she didn’t have to wake him. But she knew damn well that if she didn’t arrive at the depot by 900 hours, the Consortium would find another pilot to handle the shipment. Business was business, and they’d replace her in a heartbeat. Never mind that she was the best damn pilot on this gods-forsaken rock.
With a deafening crash, she tripped over a small pile
of scrap metal as she entered Tanner’s small room, nearly dropping the plate of roquillon eggs and spice bread she prepared for his breakfast.
Tanner stirred groggily in his bed. “Hey,” he called out. “Watch out for my bot.”
“That pile of rusted scraps is hardly a bot.”
“Don’t talk about Onni like that! He can hear you.” The pile of metal known as Onni righted himself on the floor, his servos buzzing and whirring.
“I’m sorry, Onni,” she said. “I didn’t mean to insult you.” Lana crouched beside the little medibot and inspected the open mess of wires on his back. “You may need some upgrades, but you take great care of Tanner when I’m away. So I’ll tell you what, little friend: I’ll make it up to you. I’m on my way to the bazaar to pick up new sensors for my ship. How about I pick up new guidance sensors for you, too? That way you’ll see me coming in before I trip over you again. Sound good?”
Onni beeped and clicked, his eyes glowing white with approval.
“And maybe a voice transducer, so you can finally tell us what’s going on in that little robot head of yours.”
More clicks and beeps as his base swiveled on the floor.
“He forgives you.”
She had gotten used to Tanner’s habit of funneling his own emotions through the bot. She understood. It was hard for a seven-year old kid to own his feelings.
“As long as he knows that I care about him.”
“He knows. And he’s really excited about his upgrades. I’ll make sure he’s ready for the installs when you get home.”
“I hope so,” said Lana as her cheeks lifted into a smile. “It’d be cruel to make him wait. But you’ve got time. I’ll be gone for longer than normal. Big shipment for the Consortium. And if I’m going to have time to get his parts, I need to get going.”
She was glad he had something to keep him occupied while she was away. Someone to keep him company. It was hard to be a kid on Tarksis, even when life was good. And with the Rend running through his blood, well, she was grateful the little pile of scrap metal could give him a purpose.
“Onni’s going to miss you.”
She wished she didn’t have to leave him. She wished she could stay and take care of him, give him the proper childhood filled with joy and fun and opportunity that he deserved.
“I love you, Onni,” she said.
Tanner smiled at her. “He knows.”
***
A dense cloud of dust and sand sputtered up into the air as Lana kicked the magnecycle into gear, its engine roaring and humming as it lifted off the ground. Stealing one last glance back at the red-orange dome of clay that her parents had left her, she caught the wistful gaze of two pairs of eyes watching her.
They’ll be fine, she told herself. You’ll be back soon. Just another freight run. You’ve done this a thousand times before. She dug the hardened leather toe of her boot into the throttle and rocketed away towards the center of the city.
But she couldn’t escape the nagging voice deep inside her; she knew she was kidding herself. This wasn’t just another freight run. Even if they didn’t have to navigate through the Dennegar belt, the Gamma quadrant wasn’t exactly a friendly place. They would be leaving the protected space of the Kamaran Empire, and the vastness beyond was home to all sorts of troublesome types. Pirates and nomads who’d rather not be bothered with trivialities like living under the rule of law. Stories of the notorious Gamma Raiders had reached her even here.
As much as she loathed the iron fist of the Kamarans, at least they maintained order. Gods forbid the sector was ruled by pirates.
Lana whipped the magnecycle around a tight corner into the canyon passage that led to the city’s entrance. A swift pinch and release to the rear handbrakes lifted the cycle’s nose as she vaulted over a stray boulder that had collapsed form high up the canyon walls. No problem, she thought. And the Gamma quadrant won’t be either. I’ve got this.
But the canyon didn’t believe her. It vowed to test her resolve.
She hurtled forward towards the imposing rock archway that marked the unofficial entrance to the city proper. A massive sliver of rock split off from the archway just in front of her, large enough to flatten her and her cycle.
Shit.
She banked sharply right, rolling her body ninety degrees as she hit the throttle and accelerated. She reacted quickly. Too quickly. She overshot the move, nearly careening into the jagged wall of the pass, but she pulled her body tight into the cycle as she corrected her mistake and averted disaster.
Then, a violent rumble and crack as the archway tore from its precarious perch. Too many years of windswept sand had finally worn through its tenuous hold, the cracks becoming more than its weight could bear. It bellowed as it crumbled before her, taunting her to speed through before it crushed her.
With no time to second guess herself, Lana rocked the magnecycle back, throwing the weight of her body to the left as she broke from the canyon edge. She gunned the throttle as she raced the falling stone. Her cycle juddered and spat as its meager engine pushed itself to capacity. She gripped the handles as they pulsed beneath her, quaking under the strain of the exhausted engine. Steady, she told herself, wrestling to keep the cycle under control.
There was no room for error. This was going to be tight.
A chunk of stone smashed to the ground in front of her, mere inches from where she was headed only moments before. A blanket of debris clouded her vision. No time to course correct. She had to trust.
Then, she felt a bone-shaking crash behind her. The vibrations surged through her as the massive archway shattered against the canyon floor and she flew unscathed into the open mouth of the city.
Safe.
Not that she expected anything less. She was the best damn pilot on Tarksis. She was ready for the Gamma quadrant. Ready for the Dennegar belt.
Nothing could shake her.
Chapter 2
Lana killed the engine on her magnecycle and made her way to the Bazaar on foot. It was never a good idea to let the merchants see you coming in on a cycle. They were more likely to take advantage of you if they thought you had something to barter with. The less ammunition you provided them, the better.
The only major city on its namesake planet, Tarksis should have been an inspiration. A monument of triumph for those who braved the harsh conditions of life in such an inhospitable place.
In reality, it was anything but.
The wooden pushcarts and dilapidated shops of the Bazaar stretched out before her. The sight of the crumbling, abandoned buildings and the defeated eyes of the people in the streets bored into her heart every time she saw the place. Even as a child, she had hoped it would be a bustling metropolis filled with possibilities. She imagined a place where she could experience the art and culture from far-flung corners of the Galaxy. With the massive deposits of Tarkanium buried deep within the planet, there should have been more than enough wealth to support a vibrant and growing city. But the Kamaran military made sure that that every last bit of it was funneled back into the Empire. They left nothing but scraps for the citizens who were too powerless to protest.
Their desperation showed in their faces. The people knew they deserved something better. But the hopelessness of Imperial control ran deep, seeping into their very bones.
The place bustled with the activity of daily life. It was a hub for traders who made their way here from the breadth of the galaxy. Resting just on the edge of the Empire, Tarksis was largely ignored. A fact which made it particularly appealing to those who didn’t care to abide by the letter of Imperial law.
Lana hated spending time in the city. She was grateful that her parents had built their home outside the walls. It was a shelter from the fog of depression that possessed the soul of the city. And the citizens who were lucky enough to find work outside the mines tended to stay as far away from the Imperials as possible.
She loathed the thugs and the gangsters trading here almost as much as she loath
ed the Imperials. It was a perfect storm of greed and corruption. And sometimes, that worked to her advantage.
As a pilot for the Consortium, she had access to the cargo manifests of most of the ships that made port on Tarksis. And she heard plenty of scuttlebutt about the supplies that weren’t on the manifests thanks to her father’s old friend, Sakaj Namat. That kind of information came in handy when you were in the market for ship mods.
She braced herself against the crowd as she approached the Bazaar, gathering the material of her headscarf. The throngs of people, human and otherwise, pulsed like a living creature. And they could be just as deadly. Stay vigilant, she told herself. Lana wasn’t stupid enough to carry anything valuable. But the hungry mobs of pickpockets didn’t know that.
She tasted copper and dust in the dry air, and the familiar sounds of merchants rattling their wares filled her ears. Handcrafted knickknacks purported to solve all one’s problems, basic cutlery of the mundane and lethal sorts, assorted supplies for surviving the fearsome Tarksian sun. All of it could be found for the right price.
Lana wrapped her scarf around her face as she penetrated the crowd. The fewer people that recognized her here, the better. Lana didn’t want word getting back to officials in the Trade Consortium that she had dealings with anyone in the Bazaar. That kind of rumor would cause them to double the inspections of her cargo. It was more headache than it was worth.
It was well-known, if unprovable, that many of the exotic treasures one could acquire were pillaged from Consortium ships that failed to arrive at their intended destinations. The Kamaran officials received steep discounts and gifts in exchange for not asking too many questions.
But the Bazaar wasn’t only for gangsters and thugs. It provided a few of the more entrepreneurial colonists with the opportunity to earn an honest living. Trust was hard-earned on Tarksis, but the Artruvian junk dealer, Sakaj Namat, was an old friend of her father’s. And that was good enough for her.
