by Anna Carven
She walked with a shuffling gait.
“Come, Human,” he said impatiently. “What is the problem?”
“Didn’t realize it would be so dark in here,” she complained. “I don’t want to fall over. How do you see so well in the dark?”
Kalan shrugged. He’d forgotten that all light-dwelling species were like this.
Blind in the darkness.
The ship was running on minimal power while it idled in the dock. All unnecessary systems had been powered down, and that meant the usual dim signal lights that dotted the walls had gone out.
Light wasn’t essential for Kordolians.
The silence stretched between them as Kalan tried to figure out what he was supposed to do. He didn’t carry a light source, and it would be impractical to activate all the auxiliary systems, just so this Human could see.
“Do you not have a light source? You will need one in the mechanics bay if you are to search for the equipment you need.”
“I can get a guide-light from outside,” she said quietly, “if you’re happy to wait.”
“Do it,” Kalan rumbled. “But make it quick.” He didn’t have time to be standing around babysitting a Human.
There were Xargek on this mining station that needed to be killed, and Kalan would rather be hunting.
CHAPTER THREE
Jia returned to the dark, creepy interior of the Kordolian warship with a guide-light in one hand. It was quiet in here, eerily so, and she was glad for the small, reassuring halo of light that surrounded her.
She’d once been crazy enough to go cave-diving in a place on Earth aptly named the Devil’s Cave. She’d emerged from there wet and shivering, with a newfound appreciation for life.
Navigating down the black corridors of this alien battle cruiser reminded her a bit of that experience. She was vulnerable and exposed, and her only companion was a hard-faced warrior who walked like a panther and said very little.
Jia found her way back to the narrow corridor they’d navigated previously. She’d barely been able to make it out the first time, but there had been just enough light entering from the main hatch that she’d been able to see where to go.
She shone the guide-light up and down its length, astounded by the weird design. Did this craft have any straight edges at all? Everything was rounded and organic looking; there were no corners or sharp lines. The interior was seamless.
How was that even possible?
Jia’s footsteps echoed down the passage as she made her way back to the place where the Kordolian soldier waited. He appeared as a looming shadow in the darkness; she didn’t see him until the light flickered across his sharp, silvery features.
“Let’s go,” he said curtly, his voice spitting the silence, startling Jia a little. As he led the way, Jia followed close behind, holding her guide-light tightly. The very walls of the ship seemed to absorb all sound, cocooning her in darkness and silence.
It was a very unnerving experience.
All this, just for a drill-bit?
But she knew they wouldn’t get anywhere if they couldn’t penetrate the hull. They needed to fix the Armium plate to the hull somehow, and the quickest, most effective way was to use rivets. Those rivets had to go through something.
She could have requested a platoon of peacekeepers to go with her, or an offsider from the mech team, but the opportunity had arisen so quickly, and she hadn’t wanted to antagonize the Kordolian warrior.
Besides, she figured this guy wanted to get off Fortuna Tau as much as the Humans wanted the Kordolians gone. He needed her help. If he was smart, he wouldn’t do anything to harm her.
Still, it was a humbling experience to be completely helpless, and at the mercy of a lethal alien who could probably crush her with one hand.
“Uh, Sir?” Jia called out, not really knowing what to call him. If she was going to be stuck with this guy in confined quarters, she should at least try and break the ice.
“What is it, Human?”
“Jia,” she said cautiously. “My name’s Jia.”
The Kordolian glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow, but he didn’t slow his pace.
“Before we started work on the hull, you guys were shooting at something. I saw some small black critters scuttling across the floor. What were those things?”
“Xargek,” the warrior spat, as if he were referring to the vilest thing in the Universe. Jia waited, but he didn’t offer any more explanation.
“And these Xargek are… what, exactly?”
“Abominations,” the Kordolian grunted.
His answers told Jia nothing and made her a hundred times more curious. What kind of creature could make this hardened warrior react with such disgust?
“They didn’t seem all that big,” she continued, as they made their way down a sloping ramp, walking further into the belly of the ship. “And it seems like you got them all.”
“One got away,” the warrior said ominously, as they passed a baffling array of pipes and cylinders. Were they somewhere close to the engine room? If she wasn’t so edgy, Jia would be fascinated. In other circumstances, she’d give her left eye to spend some time alone on this ship. She could spend hours here, studying and observing this crazy Kordolian technology.
“Do not underestimate the Xargek.” The Kordolian’s low, rumbling voice interrupted her thoughts. “The ones you saw were only in the first larval stage. Humans would not stand a chance against a mature Xargek.”
“How reassuring,” Jia muttered under her breath. She saw the warrior’s pointed ears twitch, and she wondered if he’d heard her.
They went into a large room, which was filled with various panels and monitors. At least there was a bit of light in here, coming from the glow of the monitors and a few blue lights that dotted the dark walls.
“A drill-bit,” the warrior muttered, as he brought up a holoscreen. Data flowed across the screen. It was all indecipherable to Jia, written in an intricate, complicated script.
Jia stared in fascination as the big Kordolian scrolled through the information, a look of intense concentration spreading across his features. His eyebrows drew together and his lips twisted slightly, revealing one gleaming fang.
She didn’t know whether to find that expression endearing or menacing.
It made sense that these lean silver predators would have fangs.
Finally, he looked up, pressing a panel beside the holoscreen. Jia jumped in surprise as the wall behind her seemed to split open, hundreds of thin black fibers unraveling to reveal a set of shelves neatly stacked with various parts and tools. Some items were clamped to the walls, others were stored in clear boxes and containers.
Jia gaped.
“The thing you need should be in there,” he said, nodding towards the shelves.
“There’s a lot of, uh, equipment there,” she said hesitantly. It would take her a while to find what she needed. “I hope you’ve got a bit of time to spare.”
The warrior shrugged. “You’re a mechanic, aren’t you? You should be able to identify what you’re looking for. I will wait.”
He made no attempt to try and help her. He simply unstrapped the cannon from his back and set it down, before reclining back in a chair, stretching out his large frame.
Jia stared at the Kordolian in disbelief. So he thought he was just going to sit there and watch her? He regarded her with a half-lidded amethyst gaze, his eyes traveling slowly over her small figure.
And what was with that look all of a sudden?
Oh, no. Jia wasn’t going to let herself be gawped at like some zoo animal while she searched around for equipment.
“Excuse me,” she said loudly, as heat rose in her cheeks. She held the guide-light out in front of her. “Do you mind?”
The warrior inclined his head.
“Unlike you, I don’t have preternatural dark-vision, so can you please hold the light for me?” Jia’s mother had drilled politeness into her from an early age, so she thought it
wouldn’t hurt to ask nicely. Her mother had always told her that being polite would get you further in any situation.
Jia wondered if that applied to situations where big, lethal aliens were involved.
The Kordolian made a low, growly sound in his throat and got up. Seconds later, he was by her side, taking the light from her hand. His gloved fingers brushed against hers, ever so lightly. His touch sent a thrill down her spine, even through the thick material.
Jia turned away, trying to conceal her reaction. Now was not the time to get all giddy over some silent, stoic warrior, who just happened to be standing right next to her, so close that his warm, masculine scent surrounded her.
So she busied herself with the search, trying to locate something that remotely resembled a drill-bit amongst a confusing array of alien spare parts.
And all the while, she was keenly aware of his unwavering amethyst gaze, which followed her every move.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kalan’s impatience evaporated as he leaned against the wall. He watched the Human in mild fascination as she scurried about, searching the various shelves and containers for the parts she needed.
She cursed softly to herself in Human language as she looked in container after container, failing to find what she needed.
Kalan should have been down in the weapons store, recharging his plasma cannon and looking for some incendiary devices, but instead he was here, playing light-holder for a Human female.
If the others found out, they would give him hell, particularly General Tarak, who had just expressed his disapproval of getting friendly with the natives.
To Kaiin’s hells with it. They were alone, so he could take a moment to study her, even if he was being stupidly indulgent.
Kalan watched as she worked, her small, nimble hands moving quickly, her eyes darting back and forth, her tiny, agile body clambering up and down. Occasionally, she would use the lower shelves as a foothold. She muttered under her breath, and several times, Kaiin thought he caught what sounded like cursing.
Interesting.
“Excuse me, Sir?”
“Hm?” Kalan grunted. What did she want now?
“These shelves were obviously made for Kordolians. I can’t reach the top ones. Do you mind?”
Kalan hesitated, before peeling himself off the wall. “Hold your light.” He handed the Human contraption back to her, making sure he pressed his fingers against hers, ever so briefly.
He did it because he could, because the last time he’d done it, she’d turned a delicious shade of pink.
But this time, she turned away.
Was she annoyed by his actions?
Strange creature.
Kalan turned and looked across the upper shelves, but all he saw were tools and bits of metal. He didn’t know what purpose they might serve. The mechs used some sort of automated sorting, classification, and retrieval system, but Kalan didn’t know how it worked. “I don’t know what you’re looking for,” he grumbled. “Describe it to me.” He was a fighter, not a tech-head. Give him any weapon, whether it be a blade, a plasma cannon, or an old-fashioned bolt-gun, and he was at home, but all this mech shit was beyond him.
Jia cleared her throat. “So you’re looking for a long, round, solid object. I’m hoping it’ll be big enough for what we need to do.”
Kalan felt her eyes on him. She was looking at him with an odd expression on her face. Her skin was flushed, and she coughed, a small, awkward sound. “Uh, if drills are the same the Universe over, it should have a shank, a flute length and a pointed tip.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, or why she was acting strangely. There were a number of objects that fit the vague description she gave.
Kalan growled, becoming impatient. “I don’t have time to be fishing about in the tech division for spare parts like some common Soldar mechanic. Come here, woman.”
She hesitated, looking him up and down, a skeptical expression crossing her features. As if she was wary of him, or something.
For some reason, that annoyed Kalan.
“I said, come here,” he snapped. Before she could protest, he moved to her side and picked her up, grabbing her by the waist.
She weighed almost nothing.
A high-pitched yelp escaped her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Kordolian?” There was surprise and fear in her voice.
“Lifting you up so you can see properly,” Kalan said. She kicked and flailed and he marveled at how tiny her waist was underneath her baggy work garments.
Kalan held her against his chest, raising her up effortlessly so that she was sitting partly on his shoulder. “Now look up there and find what you need.”
She squirmed a bit, becoming still when she realized he wasn’t going to harm her. In the silence of the ship’s underbelly, he could hear her hammering heartbeat.
She muttered something under her breath in Human-speak, and Kalan wondered if she was cursing him. Whatever she was saying didn’t sound flattering.
She looked across at the various items and made a surprised noise. “Well, what do you know, there it is.” She reached out and plucked something from a rack; it was a long metal rod made of Callidum, about the width and length of Kalan’s forearm. It had a twisted end and a pointed tip, obviously intended for drilling through metal.
The Human held it tightly in both hands as Kalan gently dropped her to the floor. “Thanks,” she said, surprise evident in her voice. “This is exactly what I was looking for. I’m sure it’ll be no problem to hook this up to one of our drill-bots, and it’s big enough to make holes that will accommodate any standard space-grade rivets.”
“Hm.” Humans, Kalan decided, talked a lot.
“So, uh, I’ll be going.” She narrowed her eyes. “What should I call you, anyway?”
A faint skittering sound reached Kalan’s ears. Inwardly, he cursed. “Wait,” he said, holding up a hand. Jia opened her mouth, but wisely closed it again, clutching the drill-bit close to her body. Kalan was thankful for that, because he needed silence.
He concentrated, and after a while, his sharp Kordolian hearing picked up the sound of a familiar insectoid chittering. It sounded as if it was coming from the external corridor. “Fuck,” he swore in his native Korodlian, as Jia looked at him in confusion. Kalan leant close to her, whispering in her ear. “Listen carefully now, Human. I want you to stay here. Do not move from this place until I return.”
“What’s the problem?”
“A small infestation. Wait here, and do as I say.” Kalan unclipped a plasma gun and a small dagger from his belt, offering them to her. “In case you need them.” He wasn’t worried about giving small arms to the Human. Even with the weapons, she was no threat to him. She was inexperienced, and there was no way she could match him in speed or power.
Jia looked down at the weapons in his hands. “I haven’t used a plasma gun before,” she said quietly.
Kalan pointed to an indicator on the side. “This is the charge.” He turned the weapon over. Its dull black body seemed to absorb the surrounding light. “Safety and trigger are here. Simple.” Jia set aside the drill bit and he dropped the weapons in her tiny hands. “If you see anything with more than two legs, shoot it.”
“Right,” she said, sounding uncertain. “I’m guessing you’re referring to those insect-things.”
“Don’t underestimate them,” he repeated. “One taste of flesh, and they will go into a frenzy.”
Her eyes widened. “And you’re leaving me here alone because?”
“They’re in the external corridor. If they were in here, I would have heard them by now. I need to hunt them quickly. You’ll only slow me down, and it’s too dangerous for you to go out there when we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
She nodded in agreement, but her unhappiness was evident in the stiff set of her shoulders.
“I won’t be long,” Kalan said, unsure why he felt he had to reassure this Human. She was correct in saying
that she’d be safer with him. Alone, she was incredibly vulnerable, but at the same time, he couldn’t afford to have her slowing him down if he encountered a juvenile or mature stage Xargek. She’d have no chance if she got caught in the middle of a fight. “As soon as I’m satisfied the path to the exit is clear, I’ll come back and get you out of here.”
“Right.” She checked the settings on the plasma gun, familiarizing herself with the weapon. One slender finger slid around the trigger, and she tested its weight. “I’ll bet this thing has a hell of a recoil.”
Kalan merely nodded. “Try not to discharge it in close quarters,” he said mildly, as Jia made a face. “I’ll be back.”
He disappeared into the darkness.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Kordolian disappeared, merging with the inky blackness. For such a big guy, he was surprisingly quiet on his feet.
Jia was left alone with a plasma gun, a strange obsidian dagger and a whole bunch of useless spare parts.
And apparently, there were flesh-eating insect larvae crawling around the ship.
Great.
At least she’d gotten her drill-bit; that was a positive. But now she was expected to wait here while her nameless Kordolian warrior stalked down the corridors like some deadly pest control officer, hunting Xargek in the darkness.
Jia was grateful for the reassuring little cocoon of light that surrounded her, the guide-light splitting the shadows with its insistent glow. She briefly considered making a run for the exit, but she shelved that thought as she remembered the warrior’s dire warnings.
He’d been stoic, humorless and abrupt, and she hadn’t really expected anything less. He was a hardened warrior, after all.
But for a moment there, she could have sworn he’d smiled as he’d brushed his fingers against hers. Her face and ears had burned, and she’d turned away, not wanting him to see her reaction.
What was this big, silver-skinned, muscle-bound alien playing at?
Jia sighed, placing the guide-light in front of her as she backed into the corner, her weapons ready, the drill-bit by her side. What was supposed to be a straightforward request for a machine part had turned into a scene out of a sci-fi horror movie.
