by Stella Cassy
Was she human at all?
7
Esmerelda
Oyna settled into her regular routine of fussing with her wings for a solid minute as she did every single time we met in the war chamber.
“Where’s your baby spy, that little puffball?” I asked her.
“What?” Her eyes widened—with shock? “He is with Lognx. Helping him out.”
“With what?” I propped a leg over the armrest of my chair and mentally chided myself about rubbing a bald spot in the red fabric.
“He is smart.” Each word was full of pride.
This was ridiculous. We used to joke all the time before that little creature showed up. Maybe we could get back to normal business after we got rid of these prisoners, especially the Drakon.
Wrigo stepped in from the bridge and closed the door on Enziji strutting from one side of the bridge to the next. “You must have gleaned some valuable information if we are meeting in the war chamber to discuss it.”
“I did. A lucrative opportunity has just fallen into our laps, but I want to discuss it with you two.” I could not keep myself from smiling. I had not expected to happen upon a gold mine this soon after such a successful raid just days before. I tapped the tactical table set into the war table.
The scenario I had been working on half the night after leaving the Drakon lit up the tabletop. Two groups of four gold octagons with a single gray oval in the middle displayed on either side of the table.
I tapped the gray oval on the left. “We have Moddoc send a distress call for maintenance failure, then we’ll send four ships to waylay the rescuer before they can get close to here,” I said, waving a hand at the right oval. “The rescue ship will encounter a problem.”
“What kind?” Oyna asked. “A skirmish with mercenaries who ran off, or a solar storm?”
“Right,” I said. “I think we can get away with it at least twice if we pick the right locations and the right cover story.”
Wrigo stood and circled the table before speaking. “This has a high number of failure points.”
“Of course you would say that. Do you think it could work, Oyna?” I swung around to her. She was propped over the table, her mouth clacking and her unibrow zigzagging across her forehead.
“We have had worse odds plenty of times.” She tapped her nails on the simulation in front of her
I looked back at Wrigo who nodded slowly. “True, but how are we going to get another Drakon ship to respond? They could send one of their allies.”
“Well, we just have to give them the proper incentive. Like retrieving one of their commanders — who we just happen to have in one of our cells. But if they did send an ally, we would still get enough goods to justify the attempt.”
Oyna sank in her seat with her feet tucked underneath her.
“If we are lucky and keep doing it, over time, we could luck upon the top Drakon, Commander Tarion Hielsrane himself.” I slammed a fist on the table, totally disrespecting the fifty carat gold inlaid trim they gave away for practically free on Tylooa.
“They’re not going to keep sending ships into a black hole,” Oyna said.
“No, they won’t, but I had the system extrapolate nearby locations. If we keep moving and changing locations for them to rendezvous and rescue, then we can pick off a lot of them without having to take on too many at a time. If we alternate with their allies, then they may never discover our plan.”
“And what will we do if they send their entire fleet after us?” Wrigo asked.
I clapped. “How can they when the Pax have them busy trying to get control of their planet? At most, they’d send two ships.”
Wrigo stopped walking at the opposite end of the table and Oyna stopped her pattering fingers.
“It’s simple but it can work if we stick to the plan, people.” I nodded for an entire minute. That usually got a nod out of one of them. Not one head moved.
“No,” they said in unison.
“You assume they will come immediately” Oyna said.
“They wouldn’t for just any Drakon, but for a Hielsrane, they will.”
“Which one?” Oyna asked, a hint of awe in her voice.
“Moddoc Hielsrane.” I planted both palms on the table. “System, display stats on Drakon prisoner. “
“He admitted to being a Hielsrane?” Wrigo asked.
“No, I could only coerce his first name out of him. The system did the rest. I researched him all night but couldn’t come up with anything much. That’s because he’s part of planet side security.”
“A Hielsrane ship does not necessarily mean that one of them is aboard, especially on a ship that small.”
“True,” I said, “But there’s a fifty percent chance I’m right.”
Wrigo resumed his loops around the table. “Still an enormous and unnecessary risk at this time.”
“Being the next conquer of the verse requires risks. We’ll never get this chance again. The Pax have done the hard part. Every regime rises and falls.” I rapped my knuckles on the table. “Are we ready to step up to the next rung in this universe?”
“I’ll help ready the ship.” Oyna hurried out of the room.
“Wrigo, do you think she’s getting too close to that little prisoner?” I asked.
“Yes, we should rotate responsibilities with her.”
“Or send it to one of the other ships.”
He gave me a look that told me that would be a problem.
“She can’t keep it,” I said.
“More lucrative to sell it,” he replied. “And she knows you hate it.”
“What? No, I do not hate it.”
Everyone had their weak spots and I didn’t want to cause a rift, but there was no room for a child in my fleet.
“I’ll take the next rotation with it,” I said. “Then you.”
“I will ready the crew to transport the Drakon back to his vessel then.”
8
Moddoc
“No deviations from the plan.” The voice had to belong to the human captain, Esmerelda Black. Her steely commands boomed down the corridor, an unquestionable air of authority in every syllable. An immediate response of “Yes, Captain” ricocheted around me from five or six different crew members, all eager and willing to obey the instant a command was given.
My eyelids twitched and I flexed my wings but fought the temptation to open my eyes.
“Captain, over here, a word,” someone hissed from my right. Shuffles and patters followed and more shouted demands for her attention came from up the corridor.
“Kick us off, Oyna,” Esmerelda Black said, an eagerness in her tone I would soon quash.
“Do you think we should give him another?” Another higher voice—female— asked.
“It doesn’t seem as if he’s completely recovered from the last dosage.” A deeper voice, male, responded to her question. “We need him to be alert.”
I shifted in the chair, lolled my head back slightly, and raised my lids halfway. I resisted the urge to stand and stretch my knotted muscles.
A set of boots shuffled forward. The length of both was no larger than my hand. A plume of pale red and white feathers skirted in and out of my visual range. The Nadegvum pointed her weapon through the bars and flapped her wings.
My caudal stiffened and recoiled automatically, my eyelids lifted, but I held them shut halfway and braced for another one of her needle pricks, which by the grace of the spirits, did not come.
“Captain Moddoc Hielsrane!” The captain’s zesty breath brushed against my lips.
Laughter formed at the back of my throat. The Hielsrane reputation was not working in my favor. As much as I wanted to ignore her, I needed her to believe that the tranquilizers were more effective than they were. With hooded eyes, I raised my head and looked into her glistening blue eyes.
“We’re moving you,” she said.
I knocked the muzzle against the bars. “Where are we going?” I asked. My words came out garbled t
o even my own ears and I did not expect an answer.
“Not yet, Silver,” she said. “You’ll be talking plenty in a minute. Don’t even think about acting the way you did when we first captured you.” The captain’s voice abraded my ear canal all the way down, clanging into my eardrums.
Was that the Pax’s plan all along—have their co-conspirators lie in wait for an opportunity to get more information out of me, which would help them gain an even stronger hold over Thirren? If so, my inattention had facilitated their plan once more. Was torture this captain’s specialty? was she transporting me to some specialized pain chamber? This captain and her fleet of pirates would never get another iota of information or help out of me. I should never have let the marauders get me behind bars.
“Wrigo!” A gray Imkoye stepped forward and waved his hand over the door panel. The door slid open. He clamped a second set of restraints on my wrists, then unlocked the other, and attached it to the cell’s bars. I let my arms fall in front of me, rolled my shoulders, and winced. Muscles from my neck to my lower arms burned. He repeated the same process for my feet.
Every time he tried to secure my wings, I expanded them. My mouth almost relaxed enough for my lips to curve upward into smile. On one hand, I could count the number of times that had happened during an entire rotation of Thirren around our sun stars. He finally gave up and left only my feet and hands shackled. I was thrust outside the cell with only enough slack in my foot restraints to shuffle at a slow rate.
Wherever they planned to interrogate me, I had to ensure I did not arrive at that destination. Almordae’s spirit had already visited me, called me to the upper realm. There would not be another opportunity to extricate myself from this untenable situation, to end my daily torment the way I had planned. But I was not going anywhere until I gave these renegades a taste of what a Drakon — a Hielsrane — was capable of. Their chance to kill me had passed.
Straight ahead lay a corridor, the shortest escape route. Even if I had to take a couple of shots, I could reach it if I were lucky. Left or right? For the love of all the spirits of Thirren, who knew what trap lay in either direction?
They formed a semicircle in front of my cell with their weapons pointed at every part of my body. Esmerelda Black stood in the middle of the arc, a small blaster in her hand aimed at the floor.
“Step forward and then stop.” She pointed the weapon at my forehead. “Now, face right, Moddoc.”
Moddoc. A bolt of anger shot through me at her familiarity as I shuffled out of the cell and did as ordered. A growl rumbled at the back of my throat. She was not a mate or superior. Nothing. Our paths should never have crossed, and they never would again.
“Forward, march!” she shouted.
They followed her commands, moving in unison. Their crescent formation morphed into a diamond around me. The Imkoye walked backwards with his blaster pointed in the middle of my chest. The two Golmdairs flanked me. The Nadegvum flapped behind me, prodding me along with her tranqode. For once, the other captives watched in silence at our procession. Their eyes followed the captain, who flitted about the breezeway.
I scanned the cells on the right: seven housed two to three prisoners in each. In the cell next to mine, the Luhap inclined his head at me, tapped his horns on the bars, and mouthed something. His fierce expression and hand movements did not convey anything meaningful. There was little chance of him escaping if he assumed I spoke his language.
At the doors of the lift, she raised a hand. “Halt, team.” She appeared in front of me and extended a weapon which smacked me in the middle of the forehead. “We’re going down, Moddoc. Follow directions and live to reach the bottom.”
What would her mute followers do if I threatened to snap her miniature body in two? That was what I should do: take her hostage as soon as we reached the bottom.
I glanced into the cargo bay. There was room enough for a dozen Drakon to take flight without colliding into one another. I held my tongue until she retracted her stick.
“See you down there, Moddoc.” She pivoted away and sprinted past the lift to the left. Then she waved her hand over a set of glass double doors I had not noticed. They glided open.
An alert blasted through the corridor. Her wings expanded and she threw herself from a platform, too narrow for my feet, into the open air and soared. Like a lunar ecleeya. Almordae had been convinced the lagoon bird with its pale multi-colored wings were flowers the spirits had given life because of one of my bedtime stories. I shook off the memory.
My chance for escape had come. No matter how many shots I had to take, I was flying through that door before it closed. In a micron, she would be in my arms as my prisoner. Before I could unfurl my wings, a tarp dropped over my head. The hallway plunged into darkness.
“Calm down, Drakon, or I will administer more sedative.” The other female’s voice, the Nadegvum, sounded over my shoulder. “Two steps forward.”
How many accompanied me on the trip down, I could not tell because they remained silent.
The lift thumped to a stop, then a swish sounded in front of me followed by scuffles and thudding feet.
A tap fell in the middle of my back a male voice yelled, “Go.”
I lumbered forward, veering left and right.
“Walk straight,” the male said.
“I cannot see,” I said. Instead of removing the blindfold, they yanked me forward by my handcuffs.
In the absence of light, we seemed to march forward an indeterminate amount of time. The captain’s barked commands echoed faintly to the left, to the right, and from behind me, the entire way as we continued. She had to be vicious to have earned the respect of this hodgepodge crew, to have hijacked such valuable cargo. As soon as they took this blindfold off, no matter the consequences or odds, I was taking to my wings and their captain was going with me.
We veered right.
“Stop,” the captain yelled.
I tensed my wings. “Good job,” she whispered close to my right ear, her tone smug. She had to be flying.
A familiar whir and hum sounded, and my hair fluttered away from my face. A doorway.
“Two steps, forward, slowly,” she said.
A familiar air mixture hit my face. My—
The blindfold was ripped off my head, and I blinked hard to adjust my vision.
“Welcome home,” she said.
The gray and tan walls of the familiar hallway lead from the docking breezeway into my ship. I looked behind me. The orange exit door was closed. The illuminated access panel flashed red. Locked. Two more of their crew had joined us. “Eyes forward,” the same male who had spoken before commanded.
I had missed my opportunity to escape out there, but why did they bring me here? It was foolish. I locked onto the captain’s keen eyes. Her smug face and miniature body radiated an unadulterated confidence that belied my assessment. She had some diabolical plan in the works. They were not going to kill me yet.
All had weapons and they were trained on various parts of my body. Seven against one; the odds were not favorable, but I was on home ground now. I knew this ship better than my home.
“Take us to the bridge, Moddoc,” the captain said. The two who had been at the exit shot in front, sweeping their weapons across the hall. I trudged ahead racking my brain for a plan all the way there, but nothing came to mind. If I could just get capture her, they would be forced to kill me.
“Have a seat,” the captain said.
They helped lower me to the pilot’s chair.
“Now send out a distress signal,” she said. “Nothing more.”
My insides floated. I bit into my inner cheek to contain my smile, but I huffed, “Why?”
“You know why. Now do it.” She rapped my knuckles with her weapon. “Do you want to keep these? What about these?” She grabbed the top of my wing. I tried to shake off her hand, but she held onto my wing, rubbing it between her tiny fingers as she talked. “Now Moddoc, when they contact you, you’re going to say,
‘I veered off course, and I need help’. Say it five times.”
“Take his mouth gear off,” she said to the Imkoye. He released the muzzle.
I hunched over the consoles, snapping my wing from her grasp. The imprint of her wandering fingers lingered as I entered the distress code. When I finished, I slumped back in my chair.
The automated response message reported. “Your distress call has been received by Hielsrane Security. Additional information has been requested.”
As she instructed, I repeated the statement and tapped the console to submit it. Then, Captain Black, the Imkoye, and the Nadegvum stepped into the corridor and huddled just outside the door, whispering. They left the remaining two stationed on either side of the room with their weapons pointed at me.
This was not going to end the way they expected. If anyone responded, it was doubtful they would send anyone. Operational procedures ensured Commander Tarion be informed but he would not respond soon, if at all. Why would he or any Drakon who had heard of my negligence, when they were busy extricating Thirren from the Pax Alliance?
Sooner than I expected, the viewscreen lit with an incoming video message from Captain Lehar Hielsrane and they rushed back into the room.
“Wait, what does that say?” the captain asked. She pointed to his name.
“It is only his name.” None of them read our language.
She waved her weapon in my face. “Which is...”
“Captain Lehar...” Should I identify him as Hielsrane? I glanced at her. Would she consider it an advantage or disadvantage? Although she knew I was a Hielsrane, instinct told me this was a good time to use the codename we often used planet-side. “Enarsleih.”
She grabbed ahold of the top of my wing again. “Answer in voice only. No video. Tell them your communications system was damaged. Wrigo will verify. He has flown one of these, so don’t deviate.”
She thwarted every attempt to extricate myself from her clutches. I switched the call to voice only with the Imkoye breathing over my left shoulder and the captain over my right.
