Eomix Galaxy Books: Identity (Book 2 of 2)

by Yelich-Koth,Christa

  “What?” she demanded.

  “We’re here about the ship,” Torrak said, eyeing her long, sharp stinger as it swished behind her.

  The Corenthian female stared, her single, green eye shifting between them.

  “Mwww!” she screeched. She tromped off and a small Corenthian male came to the door.

  “Please excuse her,” he said. “She’s had a rough day. You two are the ones who want to rent my ship?”

  “Yes.”

  The male gazed out at his ship with his large, blue eye. He ran his fingers over the few yellow hairs on his head.

  “Yeah, she may look old and tired, but she’s still got spunk. I’ll go and get you the contract screen to sign.”

  The male returned. “Pretty standard contract,” he said, handing Torrak the datapad. “Your fee will automatically deduct from your account. The ship belongs to you for a standard month. If any damage occurs, you are responsible. If the ship is confiscated, impounded, etcetera, you need to pay the fines. And if you keep it longer than a month, you’ll be charged each day you’re overdue. If you agree to these terms, please sign.”

  Torrak let the datapad scan his retina.

  “Have a good trip.”

  With the deal concluded, Torrak and Kalil headed over to the landing pad.

  Torrak gripped his luggage bag tighter as he looked at the vessel. Rust spots seemed to have bred along the edges of the door and viewports while chips of paint had jumped ship.

  Torrak opened the main hatch. A gust of damp, stale air blew the hair away from his face.

  “Smells like it hasn’t been used for quite some time,” Kalil said from behind him. He stepped in front of Torrak to ascend the ramp. Torrak followed and glanced around the dimmed interior.

  A goofy grin bloomed on Kalil’s face.

  “What?” Torrak asked.

  “It’s a good ship,” Kalil responded, a far-off look in his eyes.

  Torrak, who noticed the loose wires and bare frames, wanted to disagree, but he knew Kalil could sense something he couldn’t. Torrak trusted in that.

  “I’ll head to the control room to start the preflight checks,” he said as his friend headed toward the engine room.

  Once in the control room, which consisted of two chairs and a console full of switches, touch-screens, and a nest of wires, Torrak tried to ignore the mess. He began to check each system on the ship. “Fuel is good. Cooling system for the engine is online and ready,” he yelled back to Kalil.

  “The engine itself will hold up,” Kalil called out as he made his way to the control room. “Life support, altitude control systems, weapons systems, and defense systems are all in the green.”

  “Think she’ll start up?” Torrak asked as he motioned toward the chaotic console.

  Kalil scanned the wires. “This is nothing. Wait until you see the engine room.”

  Torrak swallowed. “You still think it’s safe to fly this thing?”

  “Of course. Nothing more than cross-wiring. Look, the fuel pump ignition moves through this console to this touch screen and the engine start-up connects from this wire to this lever here.”

  Torrak was suddenly very glad his friend had insisted on coming.

  “Truth be told,” Kalil continued, “I can’t wait to get back into the engine room. Do you realize how much potential this little ship has?”

  Torrak powered up the vessel. “It’s not our ship. You can make it run, but can’t change anything on it.” The ship rumbled beneath them. “Hang on.” The craft shuddered, and Torrak wondered if they had made a huge mistake. He reached over to shut it down when the ship lurched and hovered right above the ground. Kalil gave Torrak a smug smile. Frustrated at the non-verbal “I told you so,” Torrak accelerated quickly. Kalil fell back into his chair as the ship flew through the cloudy sky toward the stars.

  While they pulled out of the atmosphere, Kalil’s face turned a sickly shade of white. “It’s really amazing up here, isn’t it?” he said, his voice higher than usual.

  Torrak looked over at his friend, feeling a little guilty for the sudden takeoff. He forgot Kalil had never traveled off-planet before. “Yeah. How’s your stomach?”

  Kalil made a non-committal noise. His eyes went wide when he looked back down at Fior, now a round ball of blue and tan. “This ship sure moves fast.” Some of his color returned as his focus shifted to the ship’s circuitry. “Bet I could tweak it a little bit to make it go even—”

  Torrak looked over and Kalil cut his sentence short.

  “Right, right. It’s not our ship.”

  Torrak, satisfied with his course, initiated the start-up sequence for infinlight. He sent a message containing their flight plan to Fior’s orbiting satellite. An automated response approved their request for infinlight and wished them a happy voyage.

  “You thought lift-off was exciting?” he said. “Get ready for this.”

  Torrak flipped a switch and the ship burst forward, propelling itself into infinlight. Kalil jerked back into his seat, his eyes so wide that Torrak thought his eyebrows might reach his hairline. The darkness of space blurred with white streaks of light as they moved past the stars at a dizzying rate.

  “I can’t believe I’m actually off Fior.”

  Torrak smiled. “Wait until we get to C-Nine.”

  “What’s it like? I don’t really remember much from my Eomix Galactic History class.”

  Torrak searched his memories. “C-Nine was really beautiful. I lived in Ponsunila, one of the largest cities. It has something like thirty million inhabitants—mostly families and small businesses with larger corporations and governmental buildings located on the northern side of the city.

  “During my teens, the Aleet Army came. C-Nine is close to several other planets heavy in metals and fuel, so it made sense for them to use it as a military base. They declared martial law, took whatever they needed, jammed our transmissions for their own security, and crowded our air space with their ships. Some of our citizens tried to rebel, but it turned chaotic and I think it did more damage than if we would have left things alone.

  “After the Aleet Army disbanded eight years ago, traders filled in the gaps, taking advantage of all we’d lost. A lot of businesses developed since then, but most of the families and communities have disappeared. Now it’s a good place to find anything you want, both legally and illegally, but to be honest, I’m kind of glad to have gotten away from it. It’s just not the same place I knew.”

  “How come you never talked about it before?”

  “Easier to forget about it that way.”

  “You need to deal with your grief.”

  Daith’s hands clenched into fists under the doctor’s desk. Black and white pictures of graphs covered the walls, keeping the place void of much color. “You already said that.”

  “Well it’s still true.” Dr. Milastow tapped some notes on a datapad. Her third appendage, void of joints, lay relaxed around her own neck. “There’s nothing I can do for you. You aren’t sick. You aren’t hurt, except for pushing yourself too hard without proper training and supervision. The reason, in my professional opinion, for your lack of progress revolves around your state of mourning. Besides, I’m tired of treating you for nosebleeds. Blood clotting agents aren’t easy to get a hold of and I don’t like the rate you are using them up.”

  Daith glared at the new doctor, angry she held the position at all. She missed Dr. Ludd. She missed the pictures from his children hung on his walls, his accredited documents propped on his desk. He’d been so proud to be a doctor—something she learned he’d been destined for since birth.

  She still couldn’t believe he’d betrayed them to the Controllers.

  Doctor Milastow meant well, but her demeanor lacked individuality. Instead of being talked to, Daith felt Milastow talked at her. Another patient on the doctor’s list.

  The heated energy curled inside Daith’s stomach, tempting her to release it and relieve her anger. “There has to be somethi
ng else I can do,” she said, gritting her teeth. She hated feeling so helpless. She wanted to do something immediately to get rid of her unwanted emotions.

  Milastow studied her with her diamond-shaped eyes. “Grief takes time. You need to let it run its course.”

  Daith shoved her chair away from the desk. “I don’t have time to take time. We meet with the Controllers in less than two standard weeks. I need to feel this stupid pain about Dru’s death and get over it.” Daith could feel the doctor’s fear, afraid she’d pushed the ticking timebomb too far.

  “Ugh. How can you help me when you’re terrified solely because I’m in the room?”

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Liar. I don’t even have to try. You’re like an audio file with the volume turned up. You’re practically screaming at me.”

  Daith felt the doctor’s fear intensify to the point of panic.

  “I can’t deal with this right now. I can’t deal with you. You can’t help me. I’ll figure it out myself.”

  Daith stood and strode out, knocking over the chair as she left.

  “Miss Tocc, wait!” Milastow called out.

  Daith ignored her. She hated everyone avoiding her and scurrying away at the sight of her. She needed to prove to them she could handle herself and help them. To do that she needed to get over what happened to Dru. And she didn’t have time to wait for it to happen naturally.

  She needed to force the change, confront it head-on.

  *

  Ness Opute strolled through the city of Ponsunila early in the morning, the first of the two sunrises breaking through the clouds. He flipped a small package around and through his fingers, feeling the silky texture against his rough and callused knuckles. He headed across town, away from the local package delivery service, which could have easily delivered the small item in his hands. But this item needed special care. Opute only trusted one man to help him with this: Pierze Lang.

  About a block from Lang’s store, Opute saw a Manach emerge from the front door. Opute slowed his pace—his steely grey eyes focused on the new addition to the scarcely populated street. The Manach stood huge, well over two meters, and his reptilian eyes squinted in the erupting sunlight. The Manach stomped away, its cloven feet pounding on the ground.

  As soon as the Manach strode out of sight, Opute rushed to the store. He pushed through the front door and halted. A figure, slumped in a chair, had an electric-volt ring scorched into his chest. His eyes had rolled back into his head. Foam dribbled from his eyes and mouth. The stench of burnt flesh filled the air.

  It was Lang.

  Opute strode over to the chair and took a pulse.

  Nothing.

  He could still hear the crackling of flesh burning underneath Lang’s shirt.

  He could still see smoke rising from the smoldering cloth.

  Blood rushed to Opute’s head, his heartbeat drowning out any other noise. He didn’t react by turning away, gagging, or vomiting at the gruesome site. Only one thought rushed through his mind like an oncoming wave.

  Vengeance.

  Gathering Lang into his arms, he pulled the heavy man across the room and stashed the body in the back utility closet. He didn’t want anyone to see the body through the windows. Opute wrestled the keys away from Lang’s belt loop and left, locking the door behind him.

  He stood for a moment as the second sun crested over the planet’s edge, bathing the plaza in golden light.

  He’d known Lang for years. Lang worked with everyone—a neutral party. Totally harmless.

  So why kill him?

  Rage consumed him. His hands tightened into fists. His arm arced through the air and smashed into the store’s neon OPEN sign. The sign swung, hit the wall, and shattered. Opute walked away as the sign came off its hinges and crashed to the sidewalk below, splattering broken glass everywhere.

  *

  Daith stood in the empty corridor, her breath shallow. The thin carpet flattened beneath her slipped-on shoes. She rocked back and forth on her feet, unable yet to look at the door in front of her. She had been so determined after leaving the medical bay, but now that she’d arrived, moving forward seemed much harder. And yet it’s the only thing that seemed to be keeping her abilities from progressing. She had to move past her grief.

  Harsh lights hummed above her, recirculated air hissed from the vents behind.

  No one walked by—the main crew’s sleep cycle hadn’t quite finished. The only ones awake currently worked on the bridge, in engineering, or in the infirmary.

  Her heart pounded. Terror gripped her at the thought of remembering Dru—afraid it would hurt too much. His caring eyes, his patient air, the surge of energy they felt between them.

  With an extended exhale, Daith looked up at the door. If she wanted to help, she needed to move on.

  Trembling fingers pressed the panel to open it. The door swished to the left, the breeze blowing against her face.

  Besides the standard furniture, desk, and vidlink that came in every suite, the room lay empty.

  Completely cleaned out.

  Daith took a step inside, her legs wobbly. She didn’t know why she expected the room to be the same—strewn datapads, old food trays, clothes scattered about. Dru had been incredibly messy, but everything about that part of him had been bagged and trashed.

  Daith’s fingertips danced across the polished desk leaving slight trails of oily residue. She wondered if any of his things still existed or if they’d been recycled into the nutritional food tanks for the silari trees.

  He was truly gone.

  The tears in her eyes burned with anger. Daith looked down at her hands pressed against the surface, warm with powerful heat from her anxiety. Their tips sunk into the desk, now gooey around her nail beds. Removing them from the melted material, she closed her eyes in frustration, wiping her fingers on her pants. She had to get her abilities under control.

  Her insides turned cold, like steel. She would simply work harder, tap into anything that would allow her to become more powerful.

  She couldn’t let the Controllers get away with what they’d done.

  She wouldn’t let them make her forget about Dru.

  And they needed to pay for taking him from her.

  Time to talk to Trey.

  Without a glance back, Daith strode from the room, head high.

  Torrak leaned back in the ship’s control room piloting seat.

  He thought about all he learned concerning Daith and her connection to Jacin Jaxx. He still found it hard to believe. She’d never even hinted at the kinship. Not that he could blame her. Torrak didn’t think he would have advertised that relationship either.

  Torrak wondered about it. He hadn’t been very upfront about his life with anyone, not even Kalil. It wasn’t shame or anything, he only wanted to move on.

  Before he enrolled in the Academy, he worked three years for the C-9 government, solving cases, and putting criminals in prison. But it wasn’t enough for him. He felt stunted, his potential squandered on things anyone could do.

  His mother called him selfish. His father called him immature. His friends called him egotistical. They didn’t understand why he would want to leave an incredible career to go back to school. The whole point of school was to get a great job, which he already had.

  Surprisingly enough, Lang suggested Torrak apply at the Academy for Gifted Students on Fior. Torrak flew to Fior for tests, which revealed a genius level in mathematics and comprehension, and the Academy offered him a full scholarship.

  Torrak’s departure from his family and friends hadn’t been very pleasant. None of his friends came to see him leave and when he and his parents arrived at the docking port, his father stayed in the vehicle and his mother told him she couldn’t believe he wanted to give up a perfectly good career with Central Authority to pursue something that may lead nowhere.

  And now he was headed back to C-9 having ditched his classes, cashing out his life savings, and with no idea what
he might be getting into. He could imagine his parents saying “I told you so.”

  Torrak jerked out of his negative thoughts when the proximity alarm beeped to signal their arrival at C-Sector 9.

  Kalil strolled into the cockpit, a long, greasy smear on his left arm. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re coming into orbit.”

  Kalil looked out at a planet that hung in the nothingness of space. Large, sporadic, yellow dust clouds covered the brown sphere. The neighboring stars’ light reflected off the clouds, casting an eerie yellow glow around the planet. They had arrived on the night side and as their ship flew closer, pinpoints of lights from buildings peeked through the clouds.

  A voice came through the communications panel and startled Torrak.

  “This is C-Sector Nine Traffic Control. State your destination and purpose,” the voice requested, monotone.

  “Ponsunila City for business.” No one responded from the other end. Kalil leaned over, flipped a switch, and rolled his eyes. Torrak ignored this and repeated his response.

  “Vessel is cleared through atmospheric shielding. Please proceed to docking bay six hundred twelve. Repeat: docking bay six one two.”

  Torrak piloted the ship toward the planet, touching down gingerly on the landing pad. He left the cockpit, grabbing his bag on the way. He met up with Kalil and they waited until the outer hatch opened before walking off the ship into an enclosed terminal. Shaped like a huge, metal box with one end open for ships to arrive and depart, the building air hummed with the sound of engines.

  Torrak stretched his arms over his head and walked toward a bright yellow, meter-high machine. The machine spit out a ticket which had the date and time on it. Once Torrak had taken the ticket, large metal clamps rose from the ground and fastened themselves onto the ship.

  As they walked toward the main door, Kalil excitedly pointed out the models of ships docked near theirs, talking in detail about the special features of each one. Torrak, wanting to avoid a standard hour-long discussion on the differences between ship engines, hurried along as fast as he could.