by Drew Avera
Someone was taking his blood.
What if my body doesn’t replenish itself? Will I die here? If so, why do they have me hooked up to life-support machines? Several questions flooded his mind as his weakened body collapsed back onto the bed, the fight all but completely gone. His mind swam as he struggled to piece together what was going on.
“I hope you didn’t damage anything in your struggle,” a feminine voice said from a dark corner of the room. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get decent medical supplies on this world? I might have to sell a kidney to replace anything you’ve damaged.” The sound of movement accompanied the woman as she came into the light. Her voice sounded meek compared to her appearance. She sounded almost child-like, but the woman Malikea saw was tall and gangly, her eyes revealing a sadness that reflected that in Malikea’s heart. That resemblance fell away when she spoke again. “And I don’t mean one of my kidneys. Now, be still or I’ll sedate you again.”
Malikea wanted to speak, to try and talk his way out of the situation, but the tube gagged him. The sensation was not unlike claustrophobia, and it nudged him closer to panic. It did not matter that he could breathe; it was the tightness in his throat that made him feel as if he was being strangled. Though he wasn’t being strangled, he was certain he would soon die nonetheless.
“You can try to speak if you want to, but that tube is already stretching your esophagus more than I would like. Pulling it out will be difficult, more so for you than for me. It might be a good idea to relax and not prematurely damage your throat if you want to be able to speak again.” She moved over to the foot of his bed and checked his restraints with a surprisingly gentle touch. “I realize you are afraid, but you are here to save a life, not to have your life taken. It is unfortunate you found your way to Farax at such a time, but for those who believe in destiny—” She stopped speaking for a moment and from Malikea’s perspective she looked as if she was channeling something as her face craned upwards and her hands fell at her sides.
Malikea relaxed, really having no other choice. His body was weak and the exertion of trying to break free had taken its toll. Instead he just watched her with a curious eye. This woman is peculiar, he thought. She looks like the cross between a mystic and a modern physician. After several silent moments she finally looked back at him, her eyes lingering as they gazed into his. It was disconcerting.
“My name is Tesera, by the way.” She paused as if she was expecting him to greet her in return, but it was impossible for him to do so. Tesera moved towards the monitor on Malikea’s left and scanned the readout. “I can tell you have a poor diet. You must have been eating nothing but tubed meal rations the last several months. Those are bad for your heart, and the recycled air doesn’t do your respiratory system any favors either. If you want my opinion,” she said, leaning over him and shining a bright light in his pupils as she held his eyelids open with her fingers. She stepped back before speaking again. “You should at least take fresh meat and produce with you and save the rations for emergencies.”
Malikea nodded, not knowing what else he could do. The awkward feeling of being taken care of while also being held captive was complicating the thoughts running through his sluggish mind. He noticed pain in the back of his head as his eyes slowly adjusted back to the dimness of the room. He watched her move about, her hands scurrying over the random tubes jutting out from his body, monitoring him and taking from him just the same. If anything, she was right, he had been eating the same tubes for months and he was to the point he was feeling sluggish. He thought it might have been the gravity on Farax, but the truth was he’d been feeling this way shortly after they encountered Brendle and Anki. Four people sharing those rations had brought them to the point of running so low on supplies that they felt forced to come to such a dangerous world. It’s ironic that coming to replenish our stores of potentially harmful food would put us in so much danger, he thought.
“I think we will be done here soon,” she said, breaking Malikea from his thoughts. “You should be proud of the fact you are saving a life.” Tesera turned around and opened a curtained area to reveal a matching bed. The body lying in it looked eerily familiar, but it wasn’t until the drowsy Lechun man turned to face him that Malikea recognized who it was.
Neular?
The man looked at him, his eyes like daggers digging into Malikea’s flesh. Perhaps it was only guilt that made Malikea feel so uncomfortable, but it was enough to drive fear deeper into his heart.
Neular went to speak, but the words came out muffled and indistinguishable at first. Malikea watched as Neular touched a modulator on the side of his neck and spoke again. “Hello, Mal. Surprised to see me?”
Malikea’s eyes were wide, fearful. He thought Neular was dead. He’d seen the blood dripping from his mouth as his body was slumped over in the chair when he and Deis escaped captivity. It seemed like years ago, but he would remember the image of Neular’s blood dried to his pale gray body until the day he died. Yet, here he was now, alive. Malikea tried to speak again, but remembered the tube in his throat.
Neular leaned closer. “I never had the chance to thank you for being a coward and leaving me to die,” he said. “Tesera made me swear not to gut you in her presence, but rest assured that vengeance by my blade will come swiftly, and you too will not what it feels like to die.”
Malikea fearfully watched as Neular reclined back in his bed. He looked weak from whatever had happened to him, but as the seconds passed he noticed Neular’s color darkening. Tesera is draining my blood to save Neular while keeping me alive long enough for Neular to exact his revenge. It was a horrific thought, but one he realized was poetic in a way. Neular’s ghost had haunted him for months. He was no ghost now, and at least the torment of guilt could finally be over.
20
Anki
Anki found her way into a bazaar, or whatever they called the outdoor markets on Farax. The market was tightly packed between dusty buildings, mazing through narrow alleys opening up into larger squares. Based on the torrential winds, Anki figured they built their market like this to fight off the effects of the weather. A breeze kicked up, caressing her body, but it was tame compared to the evidence of wind blowing in the skies above. Dark clouds flew past above her, disappearing from view as quickly as they appeared. She was thankful to be nestled safely from the effects of the wind, especially having never experienced anything like them in the past. She decided to make the best of the situation and take a look around.
Everywhere she looked was tables filled with goods, some in better condition than others. She couldn’t help but wonder how much of the merchandise she saw was stolen, since Farax was known for piracy. Evidence of that piracy was not well-hidden, but rather openly displayed; some more so than others. She paid particular attention to the intermittent tables with military-grade tactical gear intermixed with the fabrics and jewelry. At one table a long drape covering an arsenal of explosives caught her eye when a stiff breeze nudged the drape from the table, revealing the weaponry. When she made eye contact with the vendor, he simply smiled and nodded as if selling an arsenal of stolen weapons was as common as breathing. She wondered where those weapons came from and what cause he hoped selling them would support. Farax was owned by Greshia, but it was a hostile relationship. She heard the rumors of rebellion growing throughout the sectors, and she could not help but wish those weapons would be sold in support of such an endeavor. Taking down Greshia was a cause she would support one hundred percent.
She walked deeper into the alleyway, bumping elbows with more than a few women who stared at her curiously. Anki understood; she was a survivor of a fallen world. They probably never thought they would see a Luthian again, much less one who appeared to be former military. At least the people here are nicer than the ones at the shipyard, she thought. The sideways glances were minimal and there were no people wandering around in tan coveralls. She hoped to not bump into another prisoner who suffered because she spoke to them.
The fact security was minimal here came as a relief.
“Excuse me. You like jewelry?” A short vendor asked as he ran up to her on stubby legs, his fingers covered in rings. His bald head was covered in sweat he dabbed at every few seconds with a wad of fabric he kept tucking into his jacket. She had never seen a man of his kind before and she thought he was quite unusual looking. “I have all kinds that will accentuate your beautiful eyes.”
Anki smiled at his unabashed attempt to swoon the money from her pocket with flattery. Never mind the fact he probably said that to every woman walking the streets. “No thank you. I’m not in the market for jewelry.” Nor do I have any money anyway.
“No? I have something else for you. Come with me.” His bossiness grated on Anki’s nerves. She didn’t mind being pitched to, but his attitude bordered on impolite. Perhaps it’s just the way things are here.
Anki shook her head. “Sorry, not interested.” The man nodded his head, disappointment in his eyes. “Thank you anyway,” she said, turning to leave, but he stopped her by grabbing the sleeve of her jacket. It wasn’t in a threatening manner, but she felt more guarded when she turned back to face him.
“No problem. I have this?” He held up a finger as he pulled a long knife from behind him. She tensed up for a moment, wondering if this was some kind of threat, but if it was, he was not acting on it yet. He held the blade up in a non-threatening manner and she noticed the blade was constructed of some kind of translucent metal. She could make out his eyes when he held it in front of his face. He blinked three times to demonstrate how clear it was. “Do you like? Very special piece I have. Is imported from Keshnarian debris field.” He pointed a shaky finger to the sky as if that was a precise demonstration of where Keshnar once was.
A chill ran down Anki’s spine when he mentioned Keshnar. She remembered the area all too well. That was where the Seratora was attacked and she crash-landed on one of the Keshnarian moons. Just thinking about it brought to mind images of the fiery destruction of her ship as it burned brightly in the black sky, remnants of it falling to the surface of the moon and burning around her. She glared at him, eyes narrow, as she tried to pick apart what it was he thought he was doing. How cold of a person do you have to be to try and profit from planetary murder?
“I’m not interested,” she said, the tone of her voice painted much darker. Her mood flipped like a switch and there was no going back now. It was all she could do to not tear into the squat little man, rip that knife from his hands and jab it into his insensitive heart. Who says shit like that?
“No? I have other things?” he reached into the bag behind him for something else, rummaging through it as if he was pondering his next move. Horror thrummed in her heart of what he might reveal next. To make matters worse, he was humming a nonchalant tune as she watched. Anki fought to keep her mouth shut, but anxiety weighed heavier than her sense of right and wrong. The words poured from her lips with as much malice as she could muster.
“If you pull out some trinket from my world that was destroyed, then I will pull out my gun, press the barrel squarely between your beady little eyes, and blow your fucking head off,” she hissed.
The man’s eyes widened at her threat as he turned back to look at her, but his shit-eating grin remained. She imagined he was used to talk like this, probably from having to deal with criminals in order to support his business. He was probably testing her, to see if she would put her words into action. The thought of it made her stomach churn. She did not come here to get into a fight, but vermin like this man deserved what they had coming to them. “No reminders of home then?” His question hung tauntingly in the air. He shrugged his shoulders as if his antagonistic words meant nothing; still grinning, the muttering of some song humming quietly in the back of his throat.
The audacity of his even saying something like that made her blood boil. Anki wanted nothing more than to end him right there in the middle of the bazaar. She could imagine his blood flowing through the cracks in the ground, painting the dusty street a dark crimson as he lay unbreathing, eternally silent. She wanted to make it a reality with as much conviction as her body could hold, but she knew it was wrong. She was a foreigner on an unsafe world; they would kill her just as quickly as she could pull the trigger. Anki pushed the image from her mind, lest she actually do something about it, but she still wanted to make a point. There’s no harm in that. Anki opened her jacket, brandishing her weapon where he could see it, the cold steel reflecting the tinge of sunlight as it glanced against the smooth contoured surface. She knew he recognized the technology as soon as he saw it. The weapon was Greshian made and she was a Luthian refugee. I bet you’re putting the pieces together on how that worked out in your seedy little brain aren’t you? She watched him swallow hard as she gripped the weapon. It fit her hand like a glove as she edged it out of the holster slightly as if she were ready to draw down on him and make good with her threat. That single act immediately shut him up.
Without another word, he backed away slowly, watching her with more interest than she thought was appropriate, his eyes darting back and forth from her eyes down to her gun. She backed away as well, before she carried through with what the silent rage in her heart made her want to do. It was at that moment she saw just how dangerous of a world Farax could be. The danger lurked around her with friendly faces, but the hazards weren’t as black and white as someone outright attacking you. Sometimes those threats were much more passive, hanging in the air and carried with you long after the words were uttered. She turned around and headed back for the Replicade.
“To hell with this place,” she said, closing her jacket. “There’s nothing more I want to see here.”
As she cut through the alleyway, away from the bazaar, her com-unit chirped. She drew it from her pocket and answered it. “Hello?”
Brendle’s voice replied. “Anki, where are you?” he sounded out of breath and her thoughts immediately shifted to wondering what was wrong. She knew she should answer his question, but the real question needing answered was why he called in the first place. The only thing that she could think was that someone discovered a Greshian onboard their ship and now he was in danger.
21
Crase
Crase entered the room to see Malikea awake, his eyes periodically drifting over to Neular who rested in the bed across from him. Tesera monitored the situation in her own methodical manner as Crase took a seat in the dark corner. His legs ached from carrying the Lechun to Tesera, but the pain would be worth it if Neular survived. He sat in silence, the hum of breathing machines dully droning in the background as Tesera worked over the men. She found her escape in helping people, and sometimes that meant she helped the wrong people. That was what brought them together so long ago. That was what kept them together now. He trusted her, and that was worth more than all the money on Farax in his mind.
He watched her, wondering what the future would have looked like if things had happened differently. She hadn’t acknowledged his presence, so Crase thought he might have come in unseen, but he was mistaken. She had a way of proving him wrong, which was something else he loved about her.
“Neular’s infection has cleared up, and the poison in his blood is no longer measurable. He is sleeping off the effects of the medication, but other than that he is healthy,” Tesera said without looking back at him.
Crase hadn’t known about an inflection, but he presumed it was a side effect of the poison filling Neular’s body. Tesera seemed confident in the diagnosis and that confidence inspired a feeling of relief at the fortunate news. Crase’s mind quickly drifted to the other Lechun in to room, though. “And what of him?” he asked, canting his head in the other man’s direction.
Tesera turned to face him. “He will not die in my care,” she replied. She said it in a way that made her sound authoritative, but he took orders from no one. Still, he understood what she meant by it. She didn’t want to watch what she considered an innocent man die. That was her prerogativ
e, and he would consent.
Crase nodded. He knew she meant it and he had no intention of crossing her. He’d learned years ago that Tesera was a woman not to underestimate. Besides, the man would die; he had no doubt about that, but he could also prove useful considering he was part of the crew that debarked from the Replicade several hours prior. In order to take the ship, Crase would need a way to get onboard without triggering an alarm. Farax had lax security, but he had no way of knowing how many were on the purloined ship. If it was just the two men and one woman, he would have no problem taking it, but if they had several men hidden in her expansive hull, it would be a suicide mission. There was no profit in dying, he thought. “Has he fulfilled his usefulness?”
She hesitated, brushing a tuft of hair behind her ear as she worked. “He has.”
“Good.”
Crase stood from his seat and moved over to the Lechun man who watched him nervously. The man flinched when Crase rested a hand on the bed. “You’re afraid of me I see. I can’t say I blame you. Do you recognize me?”
Malikea nodded an affirmation. Crase could tell the moment he stepped in the room that this was the case. If not for the time spent in other sectors and countless faces he’d seen, Crase might have mistaken the man’s identity. But now he was confident he had the right guy.