Refuge in the Stars

by Tim Marquitz

  Taj spent a quiet moment contemplating the alien’s words before coming to a decision. “Make it so,” she called out, remembering some ancient, grainy holo-program Gran Beaux had shown her once. The old, bald human in the vid made the line sound so gacking cool.

  “So, this is what we’re doing?” Cabe asked after having been silent for a while, likely running their options on his own.

  “Have a better idea? I’m all ears if you do,” she answered, not wanting to push him, but she needed some kind of resolution then, even if it was illusory.

  He grunted. “No, not really, but if S’thlor is right, we’re not doing ourselves any favors by seeking these people out. We are flying a stolen Wyyvan ship, which isn’t gonna earn us any friends out of the gate. What happens if they fire on us before we get a chance to explain who we are and why we’re there?”

  “We go poof!” Torbon said, grinning like an idiot.

  Lina growled at him, and he hunkered down and shut up.

  “The situation’s hardly ideal,” Taj admitted, ignoring Torbon’s antics, “but we’re not exactly spoiled for choice, Cabe. I would absolutely love another option.”

  “I understand, but the Federation could be as bad, if not worse, than the Wyyvan military,” Cabe argued.

  Taj agreed. “They very well could be, but we’ll have to deal with that when the time comes,” she told him, doubling down on the decision in her head because she had no other ideas to fall back on. “What other choices do we have? Seriously, we don’t have any, Cabe. We don’t know anyone we can run to, and we surely can’t go back to Felinus 4.” She felt her breath hitch in her lungs at remembering the holos Beaux had shown her of the days before the great migration to Krawlas.

  The planet was a ruin, smoke so thick the air was black, only the flicker of weapons fire breaking through the gloom. Bodies lay everywhere, charred and decayed, left where they’d died for there were so few Furlorians left to bury them.

  She didn’t want to think of what Felinus 4 was like these days, the oppressing Xeron army roaming the streets, their mechanical forms near-impervious to harm. They’d pressed for genocide and had nearly achieved their goal. Only the Grans defiance and courage had kept that from happening.

  Deep down, she didn’t want to believe the Federation could be anywhere near as evil as Captain Vort or the Xeron were. No one could be.

  The stories S’thlor had shared had been tainted by the bias of his people and the willful propaganda machine of their command structure. Of course, the Federation was the worst thing to ever come their way.

  The Federation was winning the war between them and the Wyyvans from the sounds of it, killing and taking out Wyyvan soldiers across their own empire with apparent ease. To the rank and file soldiers like S’thlor, those on the front lines seeing death day in and day out, the Federation could be nothing but evil. They’d killed friends, and likely family, but that didn’t necessarily define them as the bad guys as far as Taj was concerned.

  Victory was always steeped in blood. That didn’t mean it wasn’t necessary or just.

  Still, she didn’t know enough to make an informed decision, and that nagged at her, her worries prickling the hairs at her nape. She was responsible for her people’s welfare, for their safety, and here she was, leading them into the unknown with nothing more than the hope that things would turn out okay, that her people would be safe. It was hardly an ideal situation.

  She needed to know more before they were too far along to turn back.

  “Set the course S’thlor suggests, Lina,” she told the engineer and strolled toward the bridge door. “Contact me over the comm should there be any developments.”

  “And where are you going?” Cabe asked.

  “To beat some answers out of a smug lizard,” she replied, storming for the door.

  “Ask him if he has any nip while you’re there,” Cabe called out as the door hissed shut behind her.

  Chapter Five

  Taj tracked down Kal and found where the captain and commander had been locked away. She chuckled as she realized where her fellow Furlorian had secured the two aliens.

  “A janitorial closet?” she asked.

  Kal shrugged. “It was this or a latrine, but I figured that was too important to block off with gack like these two, no matter how fitting it might have been.” Jadie giggled behind him. “Imagine the torment of us using the facilities with them locked in there with us?”

  Taj grinned. She very well could imagine it.

  Kal triggered the door locks, and Taj handed him her weapon before stepping inside the dimly lit room, if it could be called that. Little more than a tiny square, stretching two meters in each direction, the closet was barely big enough for the two aliens to sit casually without intruding upon each other’s space. Their tails were bent crooked, twisted about their waists and curled in their laps to keep them contained in the tight space.

  The door hissed behind her, and Taj felt a pang of guilt at the tiny confines but pushed it away. Neither of these Wyyvan deserved her pity or concern. They had killed a number of her people in cold blood, used them as leverage against the rest of the Furlorians, and the only reason the two lizards hadn’t been shot into the cold blackness of space was because Taj felt she could use them to her advantage.

  For now.

  They had been the architects of Krawlas’s fall, and as soon as they had been exhausted as resources, Taj would personally see them dealt with. Though, admittedly, she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do. She knew what she wanted to, but recurring bouts of compassion kept tripping her up.

  No matter how angry she was, how disgusted at their actions, she wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, no matter how much the two deserved to die.

  I might have to reassess my stance, though, she thought as Vort grinned at her.

  “Hello, Furlorian,” Captain Vort said, still as smug as he’d always been despite his confinement. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon after you kicked us off the bridge.” He turned to the commander. “I wonder, Dard, could she perhaps need something from us? Why else would she be here?”

  “Hmmm,” Dard replied, rubbing his chin. “I also wonder. It’s boggling. Perhaps we should ask.”

  “Cut the gack, you two,” Taj said. “This isn’t a game.”

  “I wouldn’t be so certain,” Vort replied, offering a toothy grin. “Games take on many forms. Some are fun and frivolous, some are far more dastardly, ominous. Dangerous even.”

  Taj wanted to knock his teeth from his mouth but managed to resist the temptation once again. She couldn’t fathom where she’d found the restraint.

  Not wanting to lose her temper, she got right to the point. The less time she spent with the aliens, the better. “Tell me about the Federation.”

  “Ah, so you do need something,” Vort said, his grin growing even wider as he cast a glance Dard’s direction before looking back to Taj. “I like when I’m right. It’s quite the satisfying feeling, I have to admit.”

  Taj reached for her bolt pistol, remembering as her hand clawed at an empty holster that she’d given it to Kal for safekeeping. She bit back a groan at her decision. “We’re in this together, Captain, so whether you like it or not, the safety of this ship and my people is as much a priority for you as it is for me.”

  “I beg to differ, Furlorian.” He waggled a thick finger her direction. His tail slapped the floor. “My priority is only to keep myself and my commander alive. Directing you to the Federation hardly accomplishes that goal. Quite the opposite, in fact, especially seeing how we’re stuck with you for the foreseeable future. There is no happy ending for either of us if you are serious about reaching out to the Federation. As such, you can expect no assistance from me in that regards.”

  Taj leaned in, growling in his face. “You think the Federation will do anything worse to you than your own people will if they catch us?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve no certainty of anything save that whoever gets their hands
on me, I’m going to regret it. I simply know too much to be pacified and cast aside by either side without enduring a long, uncomfortable stay in one of their prisons. As such, I see no reason to cooperate with you beyond what is reasonable to keep us both hale and healthy.” He motioned to Dard, indicating he meant the commander and him not Taj. “The sooner you realize that, the better.”

  She wondered what she could do to make Vort talk, knowing full well she didn’t have it in her to torture him. Even worse, she hated the idea of bargaining with the alien captain, giving in to him in any way at all, but it looked as if that was what it might come down to exactly that if she wanted his assistance again. But what did she have to offer him? Better still, what was she willing to offer for the information he held buried in his head?

  Not much, she thought. Not much at all.

  For all his help, Vort was still the enemy, tried and true. No matter what he did to assist her, his intentions were always slanted in his own favor. Nothing he did was altruistic. His end goal was only to survive, and he’d do anything he could to make that happen, which meant any information he provided willingly was suspect as it would be geared toward his own advantage.

  She would never be able to trust it fully.

  All she could do was bluster and bluff. “Tell me what I want to know or I’ll eject you through the sewage vent and you’ll no longer have to worry about what side gets their hands on you.”

  “No, you won’t,” Vort replied with a chuckle, daring her to follow through. “You need me too much to kill me, as we’ve already established.”

  “We don’t need you,” Taj shouted, spittle flying. “We have S’thlor to help us.”

  The captain clutched his belly, letting loose a barking laugh that echoed inside the tiny closet. “Oh yes, the blind grunt is your savior, clearly.” Vort clambered to his feet, grinning as he towered over Taj. “Were that even remotely true, you wouldn’t be here, begging me for my assistance, now would you?”

  He poked a finger into her shoulder, a stab of pain shooting through the muscle. “You know quite well his knowledge is restrained to little more than rumor and gossip and the basest of technical information, Furlorian, or you would have left us to die on your pitiful little planet. We’re still alive because you’re lost in uncertain space, in an enemy ship you have no idea how to pilot, and you have no idea where to go next, and your little pet alien can’t help you beyond the most rudimentary of tasks. You need someone more capable.” He lifted his chin and patted his chest. “That someone is me.”

  Taj sneered, baring her teeth, but she couldn’t help but hate the fact that he was right. Again.

  “There is so much you don’t know, Furlorian, but there is much I do know.” Vort dropped to a seat once more, his vile grin lighting up the room. “Treat us well, and I’ll share my knowledge with you and, perhaps, we’ll both see our way out of the jam we currently find ourselves in. If not, then myself and Commander Dard here are no worse off than we were before, and you are no better off.”

  That was when Taj had had enough.

  She clenched her hand into a fist and lashed out, driving her knuckles into Vort’s mouth with a satisfying crunch.

  The captain’s head whiplashed back, striking the wall, setting his eyes to whirling. He hissed and reached to clasp his aching head. A trail of blood trickled down his lip and across his chin.

  The commander went to clamber to his feet, but Taj warned him off with a low growl that seemed to emanate from deep inside her. “Don’t even think about it, Dard. I’ll have Kal and Jadie come in here and blow a few of your less useful pieces off if you even think about standing up again.”

  Dard glared at her a moment, caught halfway between standing and sitting, then he dropped back down.

  Vort licked his lips, drawing the rivulet of blood into his mouth, staining his tongue red. “Ah, so you do have some fire in you after all, Furlorian,” he said, his grin returning to his swollen lips.

  Taj was glad to see the smile didn’t come naturally.

  “I’ve more fire than you can withstand, lizard,” she snapped back. “Whatever leverage you think you have, be warned it isn’t near as much as you need to manipulate me.” She spit at his feet. “Touch me again, Vort, and you’ll find out just how willing I am to move ahead without you or your assistance.”

  Having had all she could take of the arrogant alien, she spun on her heel and slammed her fist into the door. It hissed open a moment later, and she stormed outside, ignoring the sting in her knuckles while the captain’s forced laughter followed her.

  Jadie shut the door to silence Vort while Kal stared at Taj with eyes as wide as saucers. She grabbed her pistol from him and marched off, not saying a word to either of them.

  She realized then that, despite Vort being a hostage, stripped of his ship and his army and all the things that made him dangerous, he still held all the cards.

  Sadly, both Taj and he knew it.

  “Why do you provoke her like that?” Dard asked the captain after the Furlorian had stormed off.

  Vort grinned, dabbing at his wounded lip. “She’s no commander, no soldier, trained and taught to do what she must. The Furlorian is a child, nothing more. She is weak, uncertain, and the more I press her, the more she is likely to make the wrong choice.”

  “I fail to see how flustering her and causing indecision benefits us.” Dard motioned to Vort’s face. “It seems she is more than willing to reply in kind to your pressing her.”

  “This?” He shook his head. “This is nothing, a temper tantrum,” he explained. “The more she fails in her quest to rescue her people, the greater the mistrust sown between her and her crew,” Vort answered. “If she’s getting Furlorians killed with her rash and ignorant decisions, she will be forced to deal with us, to cooperate in order to avoid further deaths. And even if her pride gets in the way of her doing so, her crew will force the issue eventually, which provides us with more opportunities for our eventual escape.” Captain Vort jabbed a finger toward the commander. “She needs us, Dard. She needs only to realize that.”

  “And again, I’m not sure how that benefits us if her goal is to reach the Federation,” Dard said.

  “That may well be her goal, but it isn’t ours, clearly,” Vort replied. “S’thlor knows nothing and can lead them nowhere. Better still, my convincing them to abandon their freighter and flee in this leech ship only compounded their issues.”

  “How so?”

  “There was no time for the Furlorians to organize an intelligent retreat from Krawlas or transfer between ships, my dear Commander,” the captain told him, smiling all the while. “What supplies and Toradium-42 they had stored away on the freighter are now so much as space dust behind us, and this—” He motioned toward the leech ship as a whole. “—is a short-range craft dependent upon the fleet for its needs, most importantly of which is food.” A crooked grin played across his tender green lips. “It won’t be long until our Furlorian keeper must set down to resupply or watch her people starve. That provides us with the first of our opportunities.”

  Dard swallowed hard and met the captain’s cold gaze. “Are you forgetting something, Captain? The tracker?” he asked. “There’s no way these creatures have realized it’s there or disabled it. Once the ship alights, our people will hone in on it and will come to reclaim the craft, having realized their prey has escaped them. Grand Admiral Galforin will not let such disrespect stand.”

  Vort shook his head. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping for, Commander.”

  “But—”

  The captain waved his second to silence. “Our dear Galforin will not spare a contingent to capture a rogue leech ship or a few escaped Furlorians, Commander, no matter how wounded his ego is. Not with the treasure trove of Toradium-42 splayed out before him on Krawlas. That will be his focus. He will task a local scout ship, or two at most, to do the deed, but he will not divert his resources from the mining operation that stands to make him the most import
ant man on Belor Prime.”

  Vort bit back a growl at saying the words.

  Had things worked as planned, Vort would have been the most important man on his home world, not the conniving admiral. But the worthless rodents bested him, all because he couldn’t imagine them being his equal, being able to defeat him. How wrong he’d been.

  Fury roiled inside, and he clasped his gut as it rumbled with displeasure, teeth grinding so hard his jaw ached where the girl had struck him. He’d allowed the Furlorians to win out because he’d underestimated them. Now, he and Commander Dard were trapped on a stolen leech craft with enemies on all sides, and it rankled.

  Vort swore he’d not make the same mistake again. He’d make the Furlorian scum pay for this indignity and all they’d cost him, especially the Taj rodent for having dared to strike him.

  “Still, there’s a chance the recovery crew accomplishes their goal and defeats the Furlorians,” Dard said. “What then?”

  “It won’t happen so easily as that,” Vort assured his second. “Either the opportunity to escape and disappear in a newly empty Wyyvan craft presents itself or we make ourselves even more useful by helping the Furlorians extricate themselves from the situation and await the next opportunity to take advantage of.” Vort spread his hands magnanimously. “Regardless, we will have options. Soon enough, we will be free, and then…” His voice faded as a broad smile spread across his features.

  Dard stiffened, one eye widening to encourage Vort to go on. “And then?”

  “And then, we figure out a way to repay Grand Admiral Galforin for his betrayal and reclaim our stake on Krawlas.”

  “And the Furlorians? What about them?”

  Vort shrugged. “If they all die in the process of our escape, I won’t mourn them.”

  Chapter Six

  Taj sat in her confiscated captain’s chair, glaring at the view screen splayed out before her. The lack of comprehension as to the language everything was in frustrated her to no end.