by Drew Avera
Across the tarmac, he watched the cargo bay open, the slow descent of the large door lowering to the ground. He couldn’t see the occupants because the ship was darker on the inside and the ambient light caused a glare from the distance. That didn’t matter, though. It had what he needed; confirmation that someone was onboard. Crase inhaled deeply, holding his breath as he waited for the first foot to step from the ship and enter his line of sight. Every hunt felt the same, anticipation budding in his chest, sweaty palms as his body rose, the itch to pull a trigger. But he wasn’t here to kill, not yet. But soon.
15
Malikea
Quiet fell over the crew of the Replicade as the thrusters ignited to slow their descent. Pera was the port Brendle had chosen, mainly for the ship’s repair availability, but as Malikea looked at the view of the city from the monitor on the bridge, he realized how large of a city Pera actually was. He always pictured Farax as a dusty rock in the middle of nowhere; that civilization was nothing more than nomadic herds of refugees from other worlds. What he saw was anything but what he had imagined.
Deis took his hand, but it took several seconds for Malikea to notice. His heart began to race as he realized he would have to go out into Pera with a case of weapons and fragile hope of selling them without being killed. The thing that made it worse was how it reminded him of that other place, the last city he had visited before his abduction and imprisonment. He held his breath, not wanting his fear to be heard over the soft rumble of the ship landing. Weeks’ worth of anxiety flooded into his mind, and he knew it stemmed from the horrors of the other world that he never seemed capable of fleeing. He tried to forget, refusing to even mutter its name, but no amount of denial kept him from the seemingly constant reminder of what he had been through.
“Are you all right?” Anki asked, placing her hand on Malikea’s shoulder. It was a gentle touch, but frightening as it pulled him from his thoughts.
He paused a moment, swallowing hard before answering, “Yes, it’s just been a long time since I’ve seen such a large cityscape. I did not expect it here on Farax.” He cut her a smile in hopes of allaying her concern for him. It seemed to work.
“Yeah, I was expecting something much more industrial without the larger buildings,” she said, removing her hand from his shoulder. “The shipyards on Luthia were nothing more than enormous cranes and pillars. The buildings were smaller since most of the work was accomplished on board the fleet of ships. I imagine some of these buildings are taller than the ones in our capital.” She didn’t seem to insinuate that those buildings were no longer in existence; she just stopped talking altogether and watched the monitor as the ship lowered to the ground.
Malikea felt relieved until Deis cut an awkward glance towards him. This sort of thing has been going on for days, he thought. Please stop trying to read me. Malikea felt guilty for his growing bitterness towards Deis. He loved the man dearly, but his guilt was gnawing at him in a way that affected how he looked at other people. It shouldn’t be this way. He forced a smile, trying to disarm his lover’s concern, but it did not work.
The Replicade touched down, the gentle drop settling on hydraulic landing gear displacing the heft of the warship, causing it to land posed like a leaping insect. It was much smoother than the last landing he had experienced, and it came as a great relief. Malikea thought back to the moon landing where he and Deis first encountered Brendle and Anki. He remembered the shot fired from Deis’ weapon when it accidentally went off, and how he was afraid the Greshian would retaliate with a fatal shot from his own weapon. On any other world, with any other Greshian, Deis would have been killed on the spot. For a long time Malikea wondered if that death would be dealt later, his trust for Brendle slow to grow, but now was much different. We’ve come a long way since then.
“Well, that’s it, we’re here,” Brendle said casually. “Welcome to Pera, population too many, and opportunity to blend in slightly marginal. Keep your heads on a swivel and try not to piss anybody off.”
“Is that your idea of a pep talk?” Anki chided.
Brendle shrugged as Deis chuckled beside Malikea. “I’m just trying to do my part and be helpful,” Brendle replied. “You guys get to go have all the fun and I’m left with menial repair jobs. Besides, my sarcasm is the sharpest tool in my toolbox. Well, that and my wit.”
Anki reached over the console and grabbed a box of tools, handing it to Brendle. “All right, Mister Sarcasm. How about you take care of the electrical issues so my ship doesn’t burn to the ground while the rest of us stick our necks out on the line.”
Brendle held the box of tools in his hand, looking dumbfounded. “Mister Sarcasm? I believe the correct title is Lord Sarcasm, and I’ll have you know that I was already planning on tackling this work,” he said. “Besides, who made you captain?”
Anki snickered and said, “You did,” as she turned to exit the bridge for the cargo bay. “Everybody, keep in touch with your com-units. They’re synced to the Replicade as a central hub so we don’t have to transmit on the Faraxian system. Are you both armed?” She turned to face Deis and Malikea.
“We are, but we really hope it doesn’t come to using these,” Deis said, pulling his robe open to reveal a blaster. “There’s no maim setting on these.”
“Yeah, well, where we are you don’t want to maim them if they come after you,” Brendle interrupted. “What about you?” he asked.
Anki opened her coat. “I went with mechanical instead of electrical this time. I don’t want to die because my weapon loses its charge. The next guy might not be so chivalrous.”
Brendle nodded, remembering one of the only reasons he was alive was because her weapon ended up a useless hunk of metal during their first encounter. Luckily, things were much less hostile now. “Good call.”
“A good marine always learns from mistakes,” she said. “Are you two ready to go?”
Malikea and Deis nodded as Deis reached for the crate. Malikea was quiet when Anki pressed the switch to open the cargo bay door.
“Wish us luck?”
“Good luck?” Brendle said with a questioning tone dripping with sarcasm. “Seriously, though, be safe and call me if you need me. I’ll be standing by with the big guns.”
“Don’t leave the ship. Captain’s orders,” Anki replied, smiling. Brendle just nodded sheepishly.
“Do you need help with that?” Malikea asked Deis as sunlight flooded into the cargo bay. The clouded light of the orange sun blinding him. It’s been awhile since I’ve been in natural light, he thought, drawing his hood over his head to help block the light from his eyes. Deis did the same.
“No, it has wheels and it isn’t as heavy as it looks.”
“Maybe we can switch off if you get tired,” Malikea suggested as Anki stepped off the Replicade and onto the Faraxian tarmac. He watched her standing there, her tall, lean figure soaking up the sunlight for the first time in months. She looked lighter with the natural light reflecting from her skin. He imagined it was just the way the light hit her and manipulated his sensitive eyes under the harsh glow of the rising orb.
“Let’s go,” Deis said from the tarmac as he dragged the cart of weapons behind him, the wheels digging into the dust and leaving a trail behind them. Malikea thought about covering up the tracks, but it would be a lot of work and probably look suspicious if anyone was to see him. Besides, they might be able to use it as a way to find the ship again if they were to get lost.
Malikea followed him out into the light, exposed to the elements of the expansive city. Pera was monstrously large and it scared him. He looked at the map Brendle had drawn him. The most likely place to offload the weapons was in the middle of the square, about an hour’s walk through a maze of alleyways. This is looking more and more dreadful by the minute. His nerves were firing on all cylinders as his feet touched the tarmac, the warm breeze shuffling dust around him. “All right, let’s get this over with,” he whispered.
Malikea walked quickly to cat
ch up with Deis who barely glanced back to see if he was keeping up. He knew Deis was irritated with him for not talking about what was troubling him, but Malikea did not know how to put it into words. Nightmares only perpetuated his guilt, his remorse. And ever since they decided to come to the place, his anxiety grew, further making the hauntings in his heart grow more terrifying. How do you tell the person you love that the decision he made is making your life crazy? Malikea knew the mission was important for their survival, otherwise he might have mentioned it, but suffering in silence was only making the chasm between them spread as he became more emotionally distant. He could only hope that one day Deis would understand.
After a long walk and many turns, Deis stopped with the crate and looked at his own copy of the map. “This is it,” he said. “I’ll go inside and see if I can generate any interest. You stay and watch the crate.”
Malikea nodded as a myriad of people walked past, bumping elbows with him and disappearing into doors and sharp turns. Being alone in a dark alley wasn’t as comforting as the lack of penetrating sunlight might seem. If anything, it made his fear worse. His palms were sweaty as he stood next to the crate. A gentle breeze made his robe dance around his ankles. He took a deep breath, smelling the warm sand and the dank walls of the buildings where the sunlight never shone. Somewhere in the tinge of smells was something hauntingly familiar. He sniffed the air again, hoping to recognize what it was, but before he could name the smell, his world went dark.
16
Crase
He watched them from across the tarmac as they stepped off the ship one by one. Grit carried by heavy wind pelted against their faces as they stalked down the cargo bay door, dragging a large, black crate with them. The first one down the ramp was a woman, and she was followed by two men, two Lechun men, exactly what Crase was looking for. Despite the distance, he recognized them by the bright and shining robes they wore. Neular had worn one similar when he came into Crase’s custody. Luckily, those days were over and Neular had adapted to Crase’s ways. Bold, bright colors made a man stand out, not necessarily a trait lucrative to piracy, Crase had said when he brought Neular to the tiny transport. The man was dying, or at least he’d looked as if he was dying. His tongue had been sliced from his mouth and blood covered the front of the man’s mostly naked body. The dark crimson stood out from the smoke gray skin tone of the Lechun, it had been a grotesque scene, but Crase had known it would be when he stepped into it.
The Silencing was a necessary step in defeating the looming threat of Lechun rebellion. They felt power in the prayers, so why not take that power away, his employer had said. Crase never saw the threat to the balance of political power when he looked at the devoutly religious community of gray-skinned beings. They seemed only a few steps away from savagery, but Neular showed him they were much more than that. As it turned out, Greshia had other plans to defeat her enemy, and it ended in the destructive flames of oblivion scorching the skies and destroying the Lechun world. Crase had made Lechushe’ a hub for his networking of hired hands. He spent months bringing everything together only to have most of it taken from him in a matter of minutes. He was not the only one to escape, though. The Replicade disappeared from her berth as Crase carried Neular to the Lament, a secondary ship. He had sworn at that moment he would find the ones who took her and rip their throats out with his bare hands. It seems that will have to wait, at least until after Neular is saved, he thought.
Distracted, Crase shuffled a step or two, using the ship next to him as a shield. He leaned against it, the warm metal feeling good against his body as it baked under the low-set sun. He was not afraid of being seen, but the best way to go unnoticed is to keep a low profile, he thought. That cautious, meticulous process was almost automatic now, involuntary like his heart beating or lungs breathing.
The woman went in the opposite direction from the men, and he watched her disappear in the crowds. His heartbeat increased as adrenaline took over, his eyes narrowing as his gaze followed the Lechun to where they seemingly disappeared down an alley. But they aren’t gone, I know these alleys better than anyone, and those red robes can’t hide from me.
Crase pulled his com-unit from his pocket and contemplated calling Neular, but remembered his friend was unconscious. The drifting of thoughts moments before had deadened the reality of Neular’s dire situation. It's strange how the mind can forget and work from muscle memory, he thought. Moving to the other end of the ship, his gaze followed to where the Lechun men had disappeared. Of course, Crase had eyes in the sky; he scrolled his fingers across the screen of his com-unit and hacked into the security grid of the Pero Shipyard. It only took seconds to find his prey as they made their way through the tight alleyways and through the mass of people bustling through the streets. He used his com-unit to scan the men, to increase the imagery to get a better look at his targets beyond just the red robes adorning their bodies. Through three screens he watched as they walked quickly, their feet shuffling the dust of the street. Their gray skin was ashen, probably from several months living on a ship with dirty air recyclers. Months living on Crase’s ship, the Replicade. I’ll have you back, he thought as he looked back to the large warship sitting idle on the dusty tarmac. She gloomed stoically back at him, her calm confidence a measure of the firepower she stored in her bowels. She would be a great asset to any navy, but I have a purpose for her.
The Lechun men darted off into another dark alley and Crase followed, watching their actions from the screen of his com-unit. He doubted they knew they were being watched, which was exactly how he liked it, the better for him to do what needed to be done. Despite how quickly they walked, he caught up with them soon after. They stopped walking moments later, the taller one leaning closer and whispering in the others ear. Crase could not tell from where he was standing what that man might be saying, but they soon continued their shuffling steps deeper into the alley. Nervous, Crase held back and waited until they were far enough ahead that he could continue unnoticed.
"What are you doing?" He whispered, speaking to no one, but needing to hear the sound of a familiar voice. Even if it was his own. He was used to working as part of a team, by adding a commentary that often went unanswered unless Neular wore a voice modulator, but they had a way of communicating by merely looking at each other. Crase knew what Neular was thinking almost as easily as if the man was speaking. It was a form of shorthand they used over the course of many missions. It was a skill developed by necessity and one Crase learned to appreciate as being solely something he could do with Neular and no one else. If Neular was to die, that deep-seeded bond would be one of the deepest impacts to Crase’s operation. He could buy more men, but constructing a team that operated as efficiently as he did with Neular was not something money could buy.
As the men moved deeper into the darkness, the container they pulled behind them caught Crase's attention in a way it had not before. Maybe it was because it was a wheeled case, but the wheels were locked and trenching their way into the dust. He wondered if they even realized it. Based on the deep gouges on the ground the case was obviously heavy, but Lechuns were stronger than their small stature often gave them credit for. These crates must be full of contraband or weapons, he thought. It did not take long for him to determine what exactly the men were up to. No one comes to this area of Farax without a purpose, mostly for little underhanded dealings, but sometimes something on a larger scale would bring people here, he thought. Just what it was they were selling wasn’t entirely evident, but Crase did find it interesting that two men of their religion would take part in such dastardly business. Especially considering most of the crates on the Replicade were stolen to begin with.
That’s the kind of work that gets you killed, he thought as he slid a baton down the sleeve of his jacket where it found his waiting hand.
The taller of the two darted off into one of the doorways, leaving the other with the case. A part of Crase wanted whatever valuable they had been dragging around, never m
ind the fact it technically belonged to him anyway, but the real value he was after was blood. He stalked forward, quiet as the wind drifted stiffly down the alley. It kicked up a bit of dust, but he merely narrowed his eyes and continued his mission.
Crase found himself behind the man, no more than an arm’s length from his victim. Killing him would be easy, but he knew Tesera wanted the man alive to do her work. She had a problem with killing, one that he did not share, but spoiling the man’s blood might mean death for Neular. Crase loosened his grip on the baton, only needing a light touch for what he was about to do. He took another step closer and swung the baton, striking the Lechun in the back of the head. Not enough to kill him, but he won’t be waking up anytime soon, Crase thought with a wicked smile.
Crase knelt down and grabbed the man’s arms, hefting him onto his shoulders as he rose. He looked around to see if he was being watched. Surprisingly there was no one to witness what he had done in this area of the alley. Satisfied, he turned down an adjacent alleyway and disappeared into the dark.
17
Anki
Pero was a large port, but not much larger than Port Carreo on Luthia. The facilities making up Port Carreo mostly comprised a vast military complex, but civilian ships were built there as well, making the port expand outward over the years. By the time Anki was stationed there, most of the civilian ships were diverted to other shipyards so the Luthian government could utilize Port Carreo to focus on building massive naval warships to use in the looming war with Greshia. That was why the umbilicals were created, to allow the massive ships to be constructed in the dark, void of gravity, because they were too large to leave Luthia’s dense atmosphere. Anki looked skyward and noticed that Pero had only two umbilicals while the rest of the equipment was used to construct much smaller ships like the Replicade.