Justice Earned

by Justin Sloan

  "You wanted to see me?" the shadowy figure asked. His voice was low and inarticulate, like his lips couldn’t quite form the proper sounds.

  Kalan cleared his throat and started to speak. "I was just transferred here, and I—"

  The shadowy figure held up a hand, cutting him off. "Let me stop you there. I only allow beings one chance, and you just blew it by lying." He paused a moment, and Kalan got the feeling the shadowy figure was studying him. "I know who you are. I’ve heard things. You’re the Grayhewn—the sabie who broke Sslake out. You got yourself thrown back in here, and have been trying to escape ever since."

  There was no use denying it. "Yeah, that’s me. Kalan Grayhewn."

  "Well, Kalan Grayhewn, I get apprised of any new transfers to the One-Eight-Nine, and I wasn’t apprised of you. That means you’re here for an unsavory purpose, and I don’t allow such things in my block."

  "I understand, and I—"

  The shadowy figure held up a hand again. "I already told you: I only give one chance, and you blew yours." He turned to the Pallicon next to him. "Take him to the pit."

  The figure disappeared back into the house as the Pallicons hauled Kalan away, now holding him even tighter.

  "We have to go into the pit for this idiot?" one of the Pallicons holding him complained.

  "You heard him." another answered. "Just breathe through your mouth. It’ll be fine."

  "That smell’s gonna stay in my clothes for a week."

  "So I’m guessing ‘pit’ isn’t shorthand for ‘pleasure pit?’" Kalan asked.

  "No, it ain’t. Get all your jokes out now, because I promise you won’t be laughing in there."

  They led Kalan to a doorway at the other end of the block. The lead Pallicon took a deep breath and pulled the door open.

  The smell hit Kalan immediately, as did the knowledge of where they were taking him.

  All cellblocks had the same basic layout, including a garbage disposal unit at the port end. The disposal generally had a sliding door through which the garbage could be dropped into a containment unit, where it waited to be hauled away.

  It appeared Nostro and his crew had made some modifications.

  The sliding door had been replaced with a regular door, and a stairway that led down into the garbage pit had been installed.

  The extent of the physical changes shocked Kalan. He couldn’t believe they’d been able to get away with all this. Not only must Nostro have the guards in his pocket, but he had to have some way to get the materials and equipment needed to make this happen.

  "No use delaying the inevitable," one of the Pallicons said with a sigh. He pushed Kalan forward.

  If the smell was bad outside the door of the garbage pit, it was much worse once they got inside. The ground squished as Kalan walked, and his feet sank ankle-deep into garbage with every step. Kalan wished Nostro had just given him a beating like a normal kingpin would have.

  The Pallicons led him to a wall, shoved his back against it, and locked his wrists into built-in shackles. Apparently he wasn’t the first being to get the garbage-pit treatment.

  Once he was locked into the shackles, the lead Pallicon’s face softened a little. It almost appeared he felt sorry for Kalan.

  "Look, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but we’ll be back for you in twenty-four hours. Nostro likes to do this to soften people up. Just make sure you’re quick with honest answers next time you see him, or you’ll be spending a lot more time down here." He started to turn away, but looked back at Kalan. "I’d say you’ll get used to the smell, but that would be a lie."

  With that, the Pallicons headed up the stairs. As the door shut behind them, the lights went out.

  Kalan was alone in the dark in a putrid pit of garbage.

  He really didn’t like this Nostro guy.

  All he needed to do was get through the next twenty-four hours. He could handle that. It wasn’t all that long.

  He took a deep breath…and immediately regretted it. The foul air filled his lungs, and he started coughing.

  Then he heard laughter.

  "The Grayhewn doesn’t like the taste of our air," a deep male voice said.

  A female voice answered, "If I could get out of these shackles, I’d beat him so badly he’d forget all about the air."

  Kalan blinked hard in confusion. There hadn’t been anyone else down here when the guards had shackled him, and yet they had said they were shackled too.

  There was only one explanation. It wasn’t that these mysterious beings hadn’t been there when the lights were on. It was just that he hadn’t been able to see them.

  "You’re Shimmers," he stated.

  There was a long silence, then the female spoke. "You can hear us?"

  That confirmed it for Kalan. "Maybe we can help each other. How long have you been down here?"

  The male Shimmer scoffed. "Help you? After the disgrace you caused our people?"

  Kalan grimaced. He’d just about had it with strangers hating him because of who he was or what he’d supposedly done. "You don’t have to like me. I’m suggesting—"

  "Good, because I don’t like you. I think I hate you more than I hate Nostro."

  "That’s saying a lot," the female Shimmer chimed in, "because he really hates Nostro."

  "That’s for sure. He’s deceiving every guard in this place. I don’t know where he got that fake Borin’s Tooth, but it’s not fooling me."

  "’Borin’s Tooth?’" Kalan asked. "What’s that?"

  The Shimmers were very quiet for a long moment, then one of them spoke again. "You don’t need to concern yourself with any of that. You’re a prisoner, which means he’ll let you out tomorrow, just like his henchman said. Until then, mind your own business."

  Kalan sighed. Why did everything in this prison have to be so damn difficult?

  He waited there in the silence for what felt like hours. He never really got used to the smell, but the urge to vomit eventually subsided. That was something to be thankful for, he supposed.

  He’d almost fallen asleep when a door opened and a brilliant shaft of light cut through the darkness, momentarily blinding him. The door was on the other end of the garbage room from where he’d entered.

  Kalan blinked hard, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the light. It couldn’t have been a full day already. Was it possible Nostro had changed his mind? That he was going to let him go? Or was he going to kill him?

  A hand roughly grabbed his wrist and began unlatching his shackle. "This smell is truly revolting. Even you can’t make this place sexy."

  "Wearl?"

  She unlatched his other hand, and he let out a sigh of relief as he rubbed his sore wrists.

  "Happy you recognized me. Now, what do you say we get out of this stinkhole and go show Nostro who he’s dealing with?"

  Kalan grinned. "I like the sound of that just fine."

  CHAPTER SIX

  Planet Rhol

  Whatever they’d expected, this planet was nothing like it. The rising metal pillars were the most impressive—tall buildings with purple sunlight glimmering off them and faces sticking out to see the Grandeur as it flew overhead.

  "They’ve prospered from the success of Silahu," Jilla snarled, practically spitting. "Meaning, from the money used to buy weapons that have cost both sides millions of lives over the years. These people live on blood money."

  "And that is why you’ll be staying to guard the ship," Valerie replied. "Too close to the issue."

  "Too close?" Jilla scoffed, turning away but not saying anything more on the subject.

  "What is all this?" Garcia asked.

  "I think it’s where they live," Flynn replied, pulling up zoomed-in images of the beings looking through the windows at them. The locals weren’t very different from Skulla, except that instead of tattoos they wore heavy metal piercings shaped like the towers they lived in.

  At the outskirts of the tower complex, the land transformed from rust-colored bushes to ground that
looked like desert but shone as if reflecting the sunlight. It was like endless clay in all directions.

  "I’ve never seen anything like it," Robin said, staring in awe.

  "It’s not that special," Jilla argued.

  "How do they make the towers, or do they just form that way?" Garcia asked.

  Even Jilla didn’t have the answer to that one, so they continued in silence as Flynn found a spot at the edge of the orange bushes. Valerie’s biggest worry was that they would sink into the clay-like ground, so she told Flynn to keep an eye on that and be ready to lift off at the first sign that the Grandeur was going down.

  "I feel like there’s a good joke there," Flynn replied, "but honestly, the massive phallic symbols all over this city make any and all jokes too easy."

  Valerie laughed. "I hadn’t thought of them in that way."

  "You wouldn’t." Garcia winked, his eyes flittering to Robin.

  "Not sure if I should hit you or merely walk away from that one," Valerie replied, but she couldn’t help but smile.

  "Hit him," Robin declared. "Definitely hit him."

  Valerie opted out of it for now, but said she owed him one and would deliver when he least suspected. Soon they were ready to go, and only Jilla and Flynn stayed back to guard the ship this time.

  Faces poked out, then someone emerged, glancing at them before running away.

  "Going to get someone to speak with us, I hope," Garcia suggested.

  "That, or find a big-ass gun to blow us away with," Robin replied.

  Bob guffawed. "Hey, I haven’t been blown lately, so if that’s as close as I can get—"

  "Shut the fuck up, Bob," Valerie interrupted. "If they wanted to blow us away, they would’ve tried during our descent. And if anyone wanted to blow you, you— Huh, I got nothing."

  Garcia laughed. "You looking for an insult there, or…"

  "I’m not sure, actually," she admitted. "A joke, but I just kind of blanked."

  "Like Flynn said, it’s the massive phallic symbols."

  "I can’t think of them as anything else now," Valerie admitted.

  "Back on the topic of being getting blown…" Bob interrupted, glancing at Robin. She hit him hard on the shoulder.

  "Ow! I didn’t say anything…exactly."

  "Your look implied it, and I don’t give rainchecks on hitting people," Robin countered.

  "Come on, my options are very limited here," Bob argued. "I mean, there are two Earth women—"

  "Vampires," Valerie corrected him. "Well, kinda."

  "Fine. Two Earth vampires here, and that’s it. So unless I want to be hooking up with someone who has blue, green, or tattooed skin—maybe orange, I guess—I have to hit on the two of you."

  "You’d be barking up the wrong tree," Garcia told him.

  "I’ve dated men," Valerie argued. "But...he’s right. Sorry."

  Bob glanced at Robin hopefully, and she hit him again.

  "Dammit, Robin," he whined, rubbing his arm.

  "Hey, I’ve made my position on this very clear," she replied, then turned to look up at the buildings. "Impressive, though why not build outward instead of up?"

  "I don’t think they’re built," Garcia said, stopping to assess one. "Look here—it’s like they grow right out of the ground."

  "Weird!" Bob exclaimed.

  "Creepy." Robin shuddered.

  "They are part of the earth." A female was walking toward them. Sunlight gleamed off her so that at first all they could see was her silhouette. She wasn’t a petite female. As she grew closer, it became clear that it wasn’t fat or muscle that gave her frame its girth, but carapace. Almost rock, but gleaming—it was somewhere between rock and metal.

  "Norrul?" Valerie asked.

  The female bowed her head slightly. Now they could see her carapace wasn’t like armor, as it had been on other Norrul she had run into—the slaves of the Skulla. This female had metallic rock sticking out of her cheekbones and skull, almost like square horns.

  "It depends who’s asking," the female replied. "We would ask that you keep our location secret."

  "Escaped Norrul?" Valerie asked.

  Again with the head-bow. "Some of us, yes. Others are here to help those who have escaped; to facilitate it. Which is why I must ask…friend or foe?"

  "We have no intention of telling anyone where you are." Valerie answered for the group. "And since you didn’t try to attack us, ‘friend.’"

  The female offered a smile—a weird expression on her face, since it caused her hard skin to wrinkle around the protrusions. "Call me Moralu. You have arrived at an odd time, in that we are celebrating an old religious custom."

  "Goodie," Bob exclaimed, glancing around. "A party?"

  "Of a sort," Moralu agreed, gesturing to them to follow her. Valerie debated asking about Silahu now, but decided to wait and get a feel for where this female’s loyalties really lay. After all, if she were with the enemy, she couldn’t have her notifying their leader of Valerie’s intentions.

  The team followed Moralu as the female explained how they celebrated the planet; how the rocks and metal within gave them life, so they showed it their gratitude. She led them into a larger tower toward the middle, but once inside they went down instead of up. The ramp circled like a spiral staircase, and again seemed to have grown naturally from the clay.

  At the bottom of the ramp was a large underground area where many more of these hybrid Norrul had gathered in celebration.

  They cheered, some performing an odd dance that involved slamming into one another, others participating in what looked like fight rings—circles of Norruls who watched as three or four went at each other. And at the outskirts of all this, a line of them stood with their hands pressed to the metallic walls, heads bowed as if in prayer.

  Nearby Norrul stopped to look at the newcomers. Some wore frowns, but they backed off at a gesture from Moralu.

  "They are not used to outsiders, and this is a very special time," she explained. "But you are my guests. Come, let us talk over here."

  She gestured to one of the fighting circles. "These fighters will not hurt the others, or at least nothing that they can’t recover from in a few days at most. It’s a show of strength and sacrifice, to tell the planet we will defend her."

  Two of the Norruls turned on the third, grabbing his carapace and heaving him against the wall, where a fourth commenced beating on him.

  "Seems very...respectful," Bob remarked, frowning and ignoring the look Valerie shot his way to get him to shut up.

  "We all have our own strange customs," Moralu said. "I hear that on Earth they cut out hearts and eat them? Those of your own people, and slaves."

  "A long time ago," Bob countered.

  "Is that so?" She shrugged. "My information is what it is, and ‘long’ is a relative term."

  "It is," Valerie agreed, trying to change the subject.

  "What brings you to us?" Moralu asked.

  Valerie hesitated, but no good excuses came. "Have you heard of the corporation called ‘Silahu?’"

  Moralu’s change in expression was barely noticeable, but was there nonetheless. "Why do you ask?"

  "We assumed they were a large part of the economy here," Garcia interjected. "Is that the case?"

  "They are."

  "We’re looking for their headquarters," Valerie told Moralu, although she hated to give up this information. "Any chance you can point us in the right direction?"

  "They come through from time to time, flying their goods to and fro in the galaxy. Maybe beyond." Moralu shrugged. "I’ve never been there, but I can tell you the direction in which their ships have flown."

  "Thank you," Valerie replied. “We would appreciate that."

  "But of course."

  "After they join us," a male declared, stepping up behind Moralu. His carapace was like hers, only more metallic than stone, and spiked. "Show us you can be trusted."

  "Rokal," Moralu said, again displaying that hesitant look in her eyes. "The
y have nothing to prove to you."

  He didn’t even look her way. His eyes were focused on Valerie. "It’s not about proving anything, simply joining us in the celebration."

  "You don’t have to do this," Moralu cautioned.

  "Oh, but I’d love to." Valerie removed her helmet and handed it to Robin, then stepped out of her armor so that she only wore her black and red uniform. " I’ve never backed away from a fight, friendly," she maintained eye contact with the male, "or otherwise."

  "Wonderful!" Rokal exclaimed, and a slight smile appeared on Moralu’s face. Had she wanted this too? Or maybe she really wanted Rokal to get his ass kicked, and now was the time.

  "I don’t know if it’s smart to show up and humiliate them right away," Robin remarked, partly to Valerie, but also as a jab at the male.

  Valerie simply smiled politely as she rotated her arms to loosen up her shoulders. "Point me to it."

  "Think I don’t know who you are?" Rokal asked as he moved others aside so that they could enter the circle, from which two Norruls were dragging a third.

  "I’m intrigued to find out how and why you would," she shot back.

  "Maybe you’ve made an impression on others of our kind," he offered. "Maybe they’ve spread word to our higher-ups to be on the lookout for you. And after the way you handled Tol and the Damu Michezo, you can be sure you’ve gotten their attention."

  "Are we talking those who have a problem with what I did there?"

  The metallic horns shifted as his expression changed to one that resembled annoyance. "They might not care, but the follow-up situation has them greatly vexed."

  "Sslake?" she asked.

  He nodded. "Everyone thought he was dead."

  Others were cheering now as two more Norruls stepped into the circle, and Valerie had to speak up to be heard.

  "And he’s not. Where does that leave us with your friends?"

  He held out his hands. "They’d like to meet you. They think you’re very powerful; an ally we would be glad to have on our side. But I’m skeptical. All I see before me is a puny female without a shell. Prove me wrong."

  "I don’t have to prove shit to anyone," she replied, "but I’ll gladly help celebrate, if this is the way to do so."