by Calista Skye
The mass of aliens file out of the room, all looking at me with their various eyes, some sniffing loudly when they pass, some trying to physically scan me with their antennas.
I have my fingers on the detonator buttons as I slowly turn around and ponderously go back to the front of the room.
The baron is still there, along with all his friends. If he were human he would have his arms across his chest, tapping his foot in repressed fury.
The auctioneer comes down from the stage and is joined by another insect-like little Bululg.
“Ah. Honored… hm.”
I hold out the plastic chip with the embedded video of the alien on it. I can't read the alien text, and I forgot to ask Crirux what my name is supposed to be.
“Honored Crebnuilxicont-Repercinaqixt,” the auctioneer reads with some difficulty. “You have come a long way, honored Lot-Winner.”
I have no idea what this kind of alien is supposed to sound like. “Yes,” I state, making my voice gruff and strained.
He gives me the Bululg equivalent of a subservient smile. “I regret to bring it up, but there remains the topic of payment.”
The baron whistles.
“If he can pay,” one of his lackeys translates with obvious disdain.
“We are sure he can pay,” the auctioneer says. “After all, it is well known that non-payment of a winning bid means that the bidder forfeits both the lot and his own freedom.”
It takes me a moment to realize what it is he's saying. My face goes cold. If I can't pay, not only do I lose Emma, I will also become a slave myself.
“Explain,” I manage to creak, just to buy time. I may have to detonate the bombs here and now. At least I'll take the baron with me.
“It should have been made clear in the invitation,” the auctioneer says. “Failure to settle a successful bid means that the bidder himself becomes the property of our Brood Lord. It is to encourage every client to actually bring the funds. But I doubt it will be necessary in this case, because surely you can easily settle the six million two hundred and ten thousand credits, with fees, honored Crebg… hmm… honored client. Ah, there is the lot, ready for transport.”
I turn around. Emma is being led towards me by four Bululg. She has a metal collar with four long chains attached to it, and she walks in the middle of the four so they can keep their distance like they would from a wild animal.
Seeing my sister treated like that turns the cold fire on inside me. Okay, we will both die here. But so will the baron, and that's worth it. The auctioneer is just a bonus.
Before I activate the three-second timers on the bombs, I want to have a decent goodbye with my sister. “Before payment, will inspect the lot,” I demand when Emma is brought to a stop fifteen feet away.
“Ridiculous,” the baron whistles. “It is well known that the Bululg never cheat.”
“And yet I will inspect.”
The auctioneer waves one eleven-fingered hand graciously. “Of course. Inspect it. You will find it exactly as announced. But be careful, honored client. It looks soft and round, but it is in fact quite fierce. A very strong breeder for you!”
Emma stands there tensely, her stance signaling pride and defiance. What I want is to run over and embrace her. But that could give us away too soon. I need a few seconds.
One of the four guards lowers his chain to the floor so I can step over it.
“Emma,” I say in English as I walk over to her. “It's Mila. Stay quiet.”
He eyes widen, she tenses up and draws her breath sharply, but at the last moment she's able to not give voice to her surprise.
I walk up to her and stare into her eyes. “Don't say anything. Do you see who I am? Just nod.”
She nods jerkily, and her lower lip starts to tremble.
I squat and pretend to examine her legs, talking fast. “I was hoping for us both to escape, but now it will not be possible. I have two pipe bombs. I will blow us both up along with these creeps. You know the orders we have. If we get the chance, we're supposed to cause as much damage to the Bululg as possible. I'm sorry. It's now or never.”
I don't know what I expected. Tears, maybe. An argument. A need for a long explanation.
But Emma just says, “I know. We have our orders. And this is not worth living out. Do it. I love you, Mila.”
I lay one hand at her soft, cool cheek and look her right in the eyes. “I love you too. This is the right thing. See you on the other side.”
“Yeah.”
I step back. When I blow the bombs, I want to be as close to the baron as possible to make sure he gets it full in the face.
I walk back to the auctioneer, head held high. I'm a Resistance fighter. The disguise is of no concern now.
The baron draws back, whistling.
“What did they say?” the translation comes. “Something is wrong.”
I want him closer. “What is wrong is that I have no money,” I say in Interspeech. “Perhaps the pitiful baron will accept me as his slave again?” I rip most of the disguise off my head and upper body. My hair flows down my face.
The baron whistles furiously.
“My breeding female!” the translator exclaims. “It was stolen, and now it is here! I demand it! And the other one, too!”
My fingers find the buttons again. After I press them, there will be three seconds until the bang. I will simply throw myself at the baron and cling to him.
“Now hold on,” the auctioneer says. “What is this? If you can't pay, who will?”
This is a pretty big room. There might be a chance…
“Emma,” I yell, knowing it's the last thing I'll ever say. “Run over here. Now!”
There is the tiniest chance that the explosive force will not kill her if she's this far away. And an injured Emma is not going to have a good life after this.
I afford myself a little smile. The bossy big sister to the last.
The two buttons are cold and hard under my fingers.
36
- Mila -
“I will pay!”
The voice is like a physical force, booming through the room and making everyone freeze as if struck.
The baron draws away from me, suddenly surrounded by his many bodyguards. The auctioneer and his helper also take a step back as if preparing their escape.
A small grain of hope grows in me. That voice…
And then he's there, blue and huge and glorious, commanding all the attention. “I will pay, of course. My associate here did the bidding on my behalf. Where did it end up? The winning bid?”
“Honored General Xan'tor,” the auctioneer says carefully. “I was not aware that you were invited. It was six million credits. Plus the fees of two hundred and ten thousand.”
“Is that all?” Xan'tor laughs. “Did you only invite the poorest men in space?”
The baron whistles furiously, but I don't catch the translation.
“Next time,” the auctioneer says with budding optimism, “of course we will invite you too, most grand General Xan'tor. I can't imagine how we could have made this oversight. How shall payment be settled?”
Xan'tor waves with his hand and studies Emma with interest. “Oh, I have arranged it with the Brood Lord. It is already complete. Let's go.” He takes a firm grip around my wrist and holds out his hand.
And because he is the way he is, all four of the guards give him their ends of the chains that end up at Emma's neck.
“Now wait a moment, honored general,” the auctioneer begins. “I have not been told anything about that.”
“The total sum,” Xan'tor says and fixes the auctioneer with his hard suns, “will be deducted from the huge payment that the Brood Lord owes me for a recently completed assignment. He so agrees. And I expect the remainder to be paid to me entirely correctly. To the very thousandth of a credit!”
He raises his voice to a roar at the end of the sentence, and the various Bululg in the room flinch and draw back. “Of course, General. Of course.”
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But the baron stays put, whistling wildly. “This is a scandal! He has my breeding female! Pirate! Thief! Get him!”
The interpreter throws himself to the floor and the baron's lackeys change the grips on their long weapons and aim them all at Xan'tor. There must be twenty of them, all wearing thick armor. He can't possibly win against all these.
Giving me a little smile, he hands me Emma's chains. He bends down as if to kiss my cheek. “Run, my love,” he says softly into my ear.
And then he changes into a giant monster, as blue as midnight and as fearsome as war itself. The process is scary and terrible and the most exhilarating thing I've ever seen.
Emma screams at the unexpected sight, the Bululg in the room creak in panic and the baron whistles wildly.
I sprint over to Emma. “Let's go!”
We're both running as fast as we can when all hell breaks loose behind us.
The noise is an ear-splitting mix of bedsheets being ripped from end to end, a thousand televisions being run over by steamrollers and then a thundering roar as from a lion the size of a truck.
Emma and I scurry out the door and down the corridor towards the place where I parked the two-seater. Alarms start blaring, and the stragglers among the other auction-goers are starting to hurry to get out at the end of the hallway.
I speed up to try to catch up and maybe get mixed up with them.
“What the hell was that?” Emma yells while we run.
“That was Xan'tor!”
“Okay!”
Someone else is coming the other way, a troop of Bululg security in armor.
And in front strides a tall, gorgeous figure with golden hair.
“Crirux!” I exclaim in surprise and alarm. “Look behind you!”
He grins and keeps walking towards us. “I don't need to, little female. Oh hello, is that your little sister? The matching pair, so to speak. My matching pair.”
I stop several yards away. Something's wrong. “Crirux? What do you mean?”
“Stay where you are. I claim you both.” As he comes briskly towards us I realize that he's not running from those Bululg troops. He's leading them.
“Go back!” I urge Emma. “Back the other way!”
We run back the way we came. The noises from the auction room are still loud. I realize that Xan'tor is not fighting to kill them all in there – he's doing it to buy us time. But he doesn't know what's going on out here.
“Xan'tor!” I yell. “Heeelp!”
Crirux signals to the Bululg troops, and they stop a little ways back. Emma and I are trapped – the only way out of the corridor is into the auction room where the furious fight is going on.
Crirux towers over us, his mechanical hands reaching out towards us, a hungry look on his beautiful face.
I rip the little stun gun out of its hidden holster, aim at his torso and pull the trigger. Nothing happens. I try again and again, but the stun gun is dead.
“Of course I couldn't give you a working weapon,” Crirux says with a smile. “I so prefer my females unarmed.”
Yeah. Because this is the stun gun I found in the two-seater after he left it there for me.
I throw the gun at his face, but he easily evades it and it clatters to the floor.
I try again. “Xan'tor!”
Emma and I keep going backwards, but Crirux will be upon us in seconds.
I pull both pipe bombs out from under the strips of fabric in the lower part of my disguise and hold them out. “I'll blow us all up!”
Crirux keeps coming. “You're funny! No female has the guts for that.”
We're almost at the door to the auction hall. I quickly run through my options, then hand Emma one of the pipe bombs. “Take this. We may have to do it the hard way after all.”
“Crirux,” says a low voice behind me. “You here?”
I whip around, and my hand goes to my mouth in horror. “Oh my God!”
Xan'tor is leaning on the doorframe, back in his normal shape. He's dripping with blood and has black scorch marks all over him, still smoking and emanating a sour smell.
“I have to be somewhere,” Crirux shrugs. “And since you have betrayed them, the Bululg need a new general. So this seemed the place to be. Looks like my first mission for them is to deliver you. They're not happy about you changing your mind about the big mission.”
The Bululg troops are standing in a tight formation in the corridor, and my Resistance fighter instincts are screaming at me to do something about it.
I press the button on the pipe bomb and throw it past Crirux as hard as I can. It lands with a metallic rattle six feet from the group.
Then I grab Emma and dive into the auction room, bumping hard into Xan'tor so he falls backwards into the room too. Now all three of us should be out of the direct blast. I clench my hands over my ears-
but the detonation is more like a sledgehammer hitting my chest. The incredible pressure from the explosion sucks the breath right out of me, then punches me like a huge fist and tosses me across the floor.
I don't know how long I'm out – maybe a second, maybe two, maybe not at all. When I gather myself, I get up into a crouch, still disoriented.
I glance to the other end of the room, where Baron Pantoflir and his guards are strewn on the floor like creepy, discarded dolls. Whatever happens now, we have made our point. Or rather, Xan'tor has.
Emma is crouching too, her alert eyes following me. “You okay, Mila?”
“Yeah. Still got the bomb?”
She holds it up.
“Keep it ready. This is not over.”
I kneel down and check on Xan'tor. He's not in good shape, pale and cold to the touch. Some of his spikes have been broken off. Smoke is rising from many burned spots, and there's a pool of dark red under him. “Let's go to your ship,” I decide, trying to sound like I know what I'm doing. “Is it in the same place as last time?”
“No,” he wheezes. “Much closer. Auction hangar.”
“Good. Can you walk?”
He slowly gets into a standing position, supporting himself on the wall. “Yes.”
I stick my head out into the corridor for a half second.
There's nobody standing up out there, as far as I can see.
“Now,” I say. “We have little time.”
I step out into the hallway. Crirux is lying on the floor, crouched up along the wall. The explosion must have finished him off.
Steadying Xan'tor out of the auction room, I start walking towards the hangar section. At the other end of the corridor are the Bululg troops, bunched up to the opposite wall by the force of the ex
We start down the corridor, Xan'tor and me first, then Emma.
We get exactly four steps before Emma gives off a strangled yelp behind me.
I spin around.
Crirux is standing up, his mechanical arms holding my sister by the neck. In one hand, he holds the pipe bomb.
“The traitor wasn't dead after all,” Xan'tor wheezes.
“It's fine,” Crirux says tightly. “Continue out. I will just take this one. I wanted both sisters, but the way things are, one will suffice. It just means this one must please me twice as much. And if she's reluctant, I have my ways.” He flexes the metal fingers on one hand. Long, gleaming spikes are growing out of them.
“You can't have her,” I state firmly, but I can't help my voice trembling.
“I think I can,” Crirux says, but he's not smiling. He must have been hurt by the explosion. He looks shaken and his fur is matted by something liquid. “More security forces will be here within minutes. Your game is up.”
“How long were you planning this?” Xan'tor asks. He's right behind me.
“Oh, you want to waste time talking? Very well, dead man. When you brought that human female, I knew I wanted one of my own. No, needed one. And while you were busy destroying any goodwill the Bululg had for you, I convinced them that they needed a new general. One who will not betray his clients over a little sla
ve girl. Today, the Brood Lord finally agreed. My price was these two.”
“And your mission?” Xan'tor takes a step closer to me and taps on the small of my back, reminding me.
Crirux shrugs, then winces in pain. “The Brood Lord fears you. Now that you will no longer take any missions for him, he probably wants you dead. Or gone, at the very least. I'm being generous in allowing you to leave alive. With your slave, even. I shouldn't be this kind. But damn it if I don't find that I like you.”
I slowly slide my hand behind my back. Damn! I'm wearing the invisibility suit with its millions of little mirrors on it, and the fabric is tough.
“And then you will take on the other mission? The one I decided to decline?” Xan'tor sees me struggle and slides one sharp claw into the back of my suit, ripping it open a couple of inches.
“Most certainly! That is part of the point. A wonderful, bloody mission to cement my reputation as your successor.”
I slide two fingers inside and touch the smooth metal, warmed by my body heat.
“How many of the other guys in the group are in on this?”
Crirux laughs very briefly, then winces again. “The others are idiots, as you know. Too stupid to leave you the moment you brought that slave into the base.”
Using two fingers, I try to fish it out from behind my back. It catches on the ripped fabric.
I clear my throat. “Why didn't you take me when you came to see me on Earth? Why give me the ship?”
“Oh, I knew you would go straight here. Both sisters in the same place. I like the tidiness of it. I also knew that the Bululg would be grateful if I stopped a plot to cause havoc here on their own station. Not a bad way to start my new career as their new general. And of course the Brood Lord hadn't approved me yet. I had to play it safe until he agreed. Which he now has. I had to hurry down here from his throne room. But it all ended well. One breeding female for me, one slave girl for you, Xan'tor. Am I not generous? This doesn't even have to make us enemies.”
“Mila is not my slave,” he says calmly. “I told her once how to recognize a slave: it is a person with no weapons.”
