“Mother!”
“My child,” Y’lin pivoted to face her, “what is it?”
“Bonding with Eeladen? I did not request this!”
“I did, and you will become his mate.”
“You cannot do this!”
“I am the empress of the Hashmedai Empire, what I say goes.” Y’lin stepped closer as Kroshka looked at her outfit, confused. It was one of the more revealing ones Y’lin had, and she rarely wore it.
Mother has not worn that in years, what triggered her to wear this now?
“You will bond with him. You will have his children, beautiful strong children that will become the future rulers of our people.”
Kroshka heard the sliding door behind her open, she saw from the corner of her eyes, a group of servants enter, all of them holding tailoring scanners.
“You timing is impeccable,” Y’lin said as the servants crowded around Kroshka, scanning her arms, waist line, the length of her hair. “Take her measurements. I want her gown to be perfect.” Kroshka took three steps toward Y’lin in defiance, hissing through her fangs toward her. “Do not move from where you stand, if their measurements are wrong and the gown comes out awful I will have their heads. Something I do not think you want to be responsible for.”
Chapter Eleven
Port Shala, Morutrin Prime, Morutrin system
Finally, Avearan Slayer thought as she read the message she woke up to in her hotel room. A buyer for the strange gem she stole months ago had been found. They contacted her at the right time as her funds went below the halfway point. Part of that was her fault. Binge drinking and booking into hotels with high end security wasn’t cheap.
But who could blame her? There were assassins looking for her, her mind kept swapping back and forth with a human doctor, then there was the hostage crisis at the Rabuabin restaurant. With all that behind her, she was asking for millions of credits for the gem, enough money to disappear from the empire, assassins, The Whisper, and all the craziness around her forever.
She stepped off the rapid transit tram, entering a rundown district within Port Shala as heavy rain fell from the humid skies, drenching her long dark purple hair and psionic cybernetics visible through her sexy dress. She walked into a dark and dirty saloon full of Linl exiles and Hashmedai wanderers, following the directions of her buyer. Her red eyes began to glow as the low light environment consumed her. There he is! She thought laying eyes on a Hashmedai wearing a long back hooded jacket, sitting at the bar.
She took a seat next to him eager to get this deal done and over with, he tilted his head toward her, and her mood changed from excited to fearful in an instant. The Hashmedai man hand pushed back the hood of his coat, revealing his green hair and a face she thought she ditched two months ago.
Captain Trin Rage of the Dark Star.
“I don’t normally read much into rumors,” Trin said. “But there were far too many floating around about a psionic fitting your description causing all kinds of trouble since you vanished from my ship.”
Her first instinct was to get up and leave right away, maybe even knock him out with a psionic push. She would have the advantage as his cybernetic wiring was covered up by his jacket. She saw other familiar faces emerge from the crowd inside the bar, the rest of the crew from the Dark Star none of them had their cybernetics covered up as they quickly surrounded her. If she ran for the door, she was dead, if she attacked same results. It was an ambush and they had her were they wanted her.
“Not to mention a psionic trying to sell a rather expensive gem,” Trin said as he finished his drink.
“Walking away from your post is one thing,” said Wyngard Wisechild, the Dark Star’s second in command. “Trying to sell something for millions and not willing to share the profit with us?”
“What do we do with her, Captain?” asked her mate, rather former mate, Garif Risingdawn.
“I don’t know, let’s bring her back to the Dark Star and have her explain why she abandoned you and the rest of us.”
She felt the cold touch of a slave collar wrap around her neck from behind. As it activated all of her psionic gifts became locked down while the bomb inside it primed, ready to explode if she didn’t comply or tried to run away.
Dark Star, Morutrin Prime, Morutrin system
Avearan was thrown into the Dark Star’s cargo hold, a rusted and small chamber within the middle of the old hauler. A dozen metal crates rested on the floor, all of them opened and empty, the Dark Star’s crew must have made a sale recently of looted materials.
Garif, Wyngard, and Trin all stood above Avearan with their arms crossed against their topless cybernetic bodies while Bira, Wyngard’s mate, performed maintenance work on the computer terminals inside, paying no mind to the fact Avearan was back and tied up. Like the rest of the crew, Bira was a psionic, the difference between her, however, was she never underwent augmentation, having fled the empire when her powers were discovered at a young age.
“Unbelievable,” Trin said. “And what were you planning on doing had you sold that gem?”
“Why didn’t you take me along?” Garif asked softly. He seemed upset.
“Oh, shut up, I’m glad she didn’t, the two of you might have pulled this off then we’d be down two members!”
Avearan stared up at them and mused about what they were going to do with her next. Have their way with her? No, as much as she didn’t like Trin or Wyngard, they both had buff bodies so the idea of all three of them stripping her naked and taking turns, turned her on more than frightened her. Besides, Bira wouldn’t have it and Bira was the hand that fed them, literally. “So, the airlock for me?” she asked, and given Trin’s past history with former crew members, she wouldn’t be shocked.
“No, lucky for you I have a use for you. Got a big salvage deal coming up, had to delay it because you weren’t around to help out,” Trin said. “After that job, however, well we’ll see.”
“What about this?” Bira asked from behind, as she held onto Avearan’s gem.
“Keep it someplace safe, if the original owner shows up looking for it, they might pay top price, a price we’ll split with everyone!”
They all nodded in agreement. “Now with that done with,” Wyngard said slapping his belly.
“Yes, some food.”
“Food will be ready soon boys,” said Bira.
The Dark Star’s crew all sat a large table in the mess hall, or the clean hall as Bira insisted on it being called. Anyone who was caught making a mess got a harsh lecture from her, then Wyngard the next morning as he’d never hear the end of it, as they entered their cabin to sleep for the night.
The meal for the day was a carpaccio like dish, consisting of thin slices of flesh from local fish and meats smuggled in from Paryo. Expensive, but Bira refused to serve awful stews or rations to the crew. She took great pride in her meals, having spent her early life learning how to prepare meals. Before her psionics were discovered the empire assigned the career path of chef to her.
It was savory meals like this which made Trin dedicate a portion of the ships operation budget toward getting good ingredients. Only the finest meal for Morutrin system’s all psionic salvager ship. As Trin swallowed a long cold piece of meat from his meal, he saw Wyngard fall over backwards. Too much to drink he figured, then remembered something significant about that thought. They ran out of booze a month ago, where did he get drinks?
A few light chuckles were released by all as they expected Wyngard to get back to his feet, only he didn’t, there was no sign of movement at all. Trin stood to check on him, then Bira collapsed, her face falling directly into her plate. His eyes shifted toward Garif who in a panicked state got up but his body started to shake and fall.
An assassin stun disk.
His hands reached for his plasma pistol as it unloaded green bolts of light, burning blackened holes into the rusty walls. He had hoped that perhaps a stray shot will tag the assassin, using his psionics in a room full of his uncon
scious crew members had too many risks. Four more shots later, still nothing. All the while, he stood wandering who the assassin’s target was? Clearly not the crew or they’d be dead by now. Was it him? His psionic barrier activated.
Below his feet seconds later, several disks ignited before he could step away, it took a huge toll on his shields as the assassin’s blades cleaved against him from behind. Before he knew it, his mind struggled to keep his shields stable, he fell to the floor afterwards due to the numbing shock of multiple stun disks. He was seemingly not the target as his body laid on the floor untouched in the seconds that passed.
Avearan saw the sliding doors connecting the cargo hold to the main hallways open, then close, yet nobody entered or exited. Nobody she could see at least, like an assassin.
Oh fuck.
She struggled to get up as her hands and arms were bound, the slave collar wasn’t helping either with the psionic lockdown. In the few seconds it took her to get to her feet she realized that there was no point to doing anything else. Whatever this assassin wanted, they got it. She was finished. As she waited for what was coming next, she couldn’t help but wonder, what would have happened if she had just not followed up with that message?
The assassin decloaked in front of her. To her relief it was Phylarlie. There was only a fifty percent chance she would kill her unlike the rest.
“What are you doing here?” Avearan asked.
“Something stupid that will probably get me executed,” Phylarlie said. “But, as I said before, you and I aren’t finished.”
“I don’t know your sister personally.”
Phylarlie yanked onto Avearan’s collar, dragging her closer. “You were on her ship, or at least close to it. I don’t know because you vanished when we were supposed to talk!”
“You should have just killed me when you had the chance, if the captain were to see you.”
“He won’t, I took care of them,” she said and began cutting her bindings loose with her daggers. “So, you know the captain. I’m going to assume I’m talking to Avearan then, and not the other one, right?”
Fair question, two months ago Avearan’s body was randomly in control of that human, Ella. “My mind has not swapped with her since the hostage fiasco.”
“Good, that was really confusing.” The last of Avearan’s binding was cut away, falling to the floor. “Now let’s get you out of here.”
Bira smashed a heavy pot against the back of Phylarlie’s head, sending her to the floor. Avearan looked on in shock as the deep pink haired woman stood above her. Avearan didn’t know what to make of the situation, not only did Bira single handily take down a trained assassin, she came into the cargo hold without them realizing it. Lesson learned, never upset the chef.
Twenty minutes later and with a massive pulsing pain radiating away from Phylarlie’s head, she woke up. Her weapons, disks, and battery pack were no longer in her possession. Leaving her wearing the light assassin’s amour set up she came in with, oh and a slave collar. She tilted her head and quickly noticed her black hair kept floating in front of her face, she was weightless. The Dark Star was in space. Behind her she saw a glass door with the crew of the Dark Star standing before it, all them grinning. On the opposite end, she saw a metal door, with a small window up top, there was a little bit of sunlight pouring through it, light from the Morutrin star. She pulled herself up to get a closer view out the window, and confirmed her fear, she was staring at the blackness of space, this was the airlock.
“Next time you board my ship,” the green haired man’s voice came via an intercom, “you should just all out kill us, we’ve been stunned so many times by assassins we’ve built up a natural immunity to your stuns, we recover faster than most people.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Phylarlie turned back toward her captors.
“Now young lady,” the man said. “There are three kinds of people that board this ship, members of the crew, invited people, and uninvited people. I don’t recall inviting you on board so that kinda narrows it down to crew or uninvited.” Phylarlie replied by hissing at him as her retractable claws slid out from her fingers. “People that are part of the crew, work hard, eat and earn a split of our profits,” he said. “People that are uninvited get put out the airlock.”
She remained silent and defiant in her stance, so he started pushing a series of buttons next to the airlock entrance. An airlock warning alarm sounded, prompting Phylarlie to get closer to the glass door, hissing loudly in anger like a caged beast.
“So, I ask you this,” he said. “Who are you? Crew or uninvited guest?”
The next day was met with the sounds of the Dark Star crew laughing and enjoying dinner for the night, this time without an assassin interrupting their fine cuisine. There was no laughter coming out of Phylarlie, having agreed to Trin’s terms, becoming a member of the crew. While everyone else dined and drank, her mind wandered aimlessly, trying to conjure a plan for escape and a plan to get what she came aboard in the first place, information on her sister Noylarlie, information she was so close to getting.
So close.
Nothing’s ever easy...
Her body floated above the cold rusty steel of the Dark Star’s engine room, scrubbing and cleaning the floors as well as tools and equipment. Her pale blue skin was now tarnished with blotches of black from the oil and rust. The dirty tools in her hands, that just refused to be cleaned caused her to hiss and toss them across the room in a fit of rage, it flew backwards spiraling away as they hit the wall.
One such tool narrowly missed Avearan as she entered with food wrapped up in bag and a bottle of water. Avearan jerked backwards, then slowly peeked in to see if it was safe to enter, grinning at the slave collar they now donned like it was a new fashion.
“Came to laugh at me?” Phylarlie said.
“I came to make sure you finished your duties quickly, the captain has other tasks that need to be finished tonight.” Avearan swam closer handing Phylarlie the nourishment she brought in. “So eat.”
Phylarlie’s soiled hands reached for a floating towel, wiping them clean. The towel went from white to black in seconds as she pitched aside and took hold of Avearan’s gift. “For the record, this wasn’t part of the plan.”
“It wasn’t part of mine either.”
“Well then, let us get back to the topic of my sister.”
Avearan glanced backwards toward the entrance. “Not here.”
“Why not?” Phylarlie knew why, Avearan clearly didn’t want the rest of the crew to know. She only asked as she was curious to hear her reasoning.
“Let’s just say, she’s working with people that could get her executed,” Avearan said then continued in a lower tone of voice. “If she’s so important to you, you’ll want no one on the crew to hear us talking about it out here.”
Crimson Arrow, Paryo orbit, Uemaesce system
Parcisei lowered the cracked screen from his data pad away from his eyes as he watched Noylarlie enter another one of her bizarre meditation trances. One of many she started doing ever since she attuned to the red gem. She made her body float dead center within the weightless cockpit of the Crimson Arrow with her face and body tilted upwards like she was floating on top of a swimming pool. The gem floated above her augmented blue skinned belly, shining its glow downwards while her cybernetics reflected the light back up to the ceiling. Her raven black hair remained perfectly still as her hands cupped the gem.
Watching the experience made him wonder what happened to the gem Fahia gave him after leaving the Cerbillon system. When the truth came out that the gem Noylarlie had wasn’t the one Fahia gave him, Fahia went berserk scolding him for lying in the first place, then for losing it.
The last two months, Parcisei found himself searching every section of the Crimson Arrow reviewing all flight cam footage in hopes of finding the gem, nothing. Yet the Crimson Arrow was the only ship he’d been on, and the only place that was safe for him. Radiance space and the Morutrin syst
em were the only places for him to walk about outside of the Crimson Arrow, and even then, he was fairly certain his name was placed all over wanted holograms within the union after the jail break in Lejorania.
Wait, that’s it.
There was a brief period he wasn’t on the Crimson Arrow, and it was shortly after getting the gem. He was placed aboard the Dark Star as part of a deal to smuggle him out of the system into Morutrin, in which he waited for Noylarlie to pick him back up as they made their trek to Earth. The gem had to have vanished in that time frame, Avearan was the only crew member from the Dark Star that knew he was there, and knew he had the gem. Avearan stole it, either that or it was dropped and she picked it up, either way that gem vanished from him when he was on the Dark Star. Someone was going to have a really, really bad day.
Danyal Aksoy floated past Parcisei, the Hashmedai human hybrid they swiped from Earth as per cryptic directions from a vision Noylarlie had of Hannah. The Hashmedai human hybrid who also turned out to be the bastard son of the late Prince Akeia of the Hashmedai Empire.
“How often is she going to be doing that?” Danyal asked Parcisei speaking in the Hashmedai language, something he picked up quite well thanks to the language learning devices.
“Until she gets bored.”
“Well, I’m done with the engine checks,” Danyal said.
Parcisei pondered his plan for getting the gem and began making plans for Danyal to be part of it. Ever since Y’lin rejected Danyal, he was forced to live aboard the Crimson Arrow, doing trivial tasks. Not something a future emperor should be doing. If Danyal was to become the heir to the throne, he needed to learn more of the galaxy. Earth may be part of the galactic stage, but there’s no way the humans could teach Danyal everything about the known galaxy, never mind the fact he was in prison when they grabbed him.
Equilibrium of Terror: Part 1 Page 17
