Heritage Lost

by S M Wright

Back in order, huh? She couldn't see it. It'd take decades at least to repair all this . . . to smooth out the populaces' differences would take centuries. "Let's just reach our contact in one piece."

  The rest of the way, they stuck to the side of the streets, out of the way, out of notice. Their contact, Usha, had operations in the southern corridor of the market. And it turned out to be a run-down sector: exterior facades crumbling, windows dirty—or, in some cases, smashed—and the clientele proved somewhat seedy, minding their own business and never making real eye contact as they dealt among themselves. Fewer scorch marks graced the buildings in this area, but rather than providing comfort, it made her stomach harden. Could Plasovern have contacts here? Or was it working with certain merchants here? There had to be a reason they'd leave this section intact.

  "40A26." Rein gestured to one of the storefronts. A ragged sand-colored canopy provided minimum shade over its entryway. Under it, a set of four large Borvinian males sat on oversize stools, mugs in their bulky six-fingered hands. "It's our contact's address."

  As the pair approached, the Borvinians stood, their large brown eyes inspecting them. Muscles rippled under their short brown hair, which covered their bodies. Her AVI-13, holstered to her hip, gave little comfort. They'd never stand a chance against these Borvinian bouncers. She resisted the urge to even brush her hand against her weapon.

  "You two lost?" one of the Borvinians asked in a deep, rattling voice.

  Katya placed her left hand on her hip. "I believe we've finally found our way. We have Ms. Usha's cargo."

  The Borvinian inclined his head, his long snout pointing to the ground before he snapped his fingers and another of his kind opened the door. Katya bowed her head in gratitude and entered with Rein.

  The windows to the establishment had been blacked out, and Katya narrowed her eyes at the shift in lighting from a natural yellow tone to a rusty red. It blanketed the interior, originating from the golden pendant fixtures that dangled in a sparse arrangement throughout the space. Overall, it created a murky, almost surreal image, with the red light capturing the smoke from the narghiles' progress to the ceiling.

  She recognized what was in the instruments immediately. Heh'sha, a legal liquid cannabinoid, imbued the entire space, but it wasn't alone. Her nose wrinkled. Other fragrances—belonging to less legal narcotics—hid among the lesser evils. They stoked memories of Reznic, its dens, its burnouts. A wave of giddiness, closing in on euphoria, enveloped her mind from the excess in the room. All around her, a variety of species lounged on floor pillows while they were attended to by an assortment of males and females, largely Cseks, wearing silver clothing. Some of the patrons held long white pipes to their mouths. None of their choices appeared illegal, but narghiles could be tampered with to expand their offerings. Over it all, speakers played twangy Csek music.

  Shaking her head, she fought against the fog that threatened to overtake her mind. The illegal wares must be in the back. Down the sparsely lit hallway.

  "You're . . . the pilot," a slow voice said. "We've been expecting you." Tingles traveled down her spine as the speaker purposefully pronounced each syllable. Then the being, a Csek, a rare violet-hued one, stepped out from the shadows of the hallway. "Milady waits." Two of her four arms waved, the many bracelets on them clattering together almost musically.

  Katya followed their guide into the hallway. It, like the previous room, only had red lights speckled along its length. They traveled several feet before the Csek palmed open a panel, which had blended into the wall.

  "So, what exactly do you sell on paper?" Rein asked.

  "On paper?" the Csek murmured. "We sell nothing but offer many of the finest services." She chuckled, flicking one of her fingers in Rein's direction. "Not of that variety. This is a day spa for those whose skin has special needs . . . or individuals who wish to explore alternative cures for very real ailments or the ills of the universe."

  "The heh'sha," Katya said.

  The Csek only nodded as she opened a second door. "Through here please."

  Katya entered first, followed by Rein. Their guide shut the door behind them from the other side. Smoke heightened the euphoria and fuzz, and Katya swayed. Ah, here were the illegals. She'd been hit by them before during Reznic raids. Familiarity, however, did not protect her from their haze. One in particular—purple lady—sprang to mind. The opiate had ruined plenty of lives on Reznic . . . it and resin, a dissociative drug.

  "Eh. Definitely feeling it now." Rein coughed into his hand.

  "Yep." Stupid . . . but her brain was working in fits and starts now. Licking her lips, she forced more effort. "In and out, and keep our wits."

  The Csek smiled, revealing filed canines, which Katya's drug encrusted mind enlarged. No. That's not happening. As if hearing her thoughts, the Csek chuckled and opened the small antechamber's door.

  They stepped fully into a room blanketed in silks. On pillows similar to those in the front, patrons lay taking drags from long pipes connected to narghiles—custom ones. She counted ten patrons, who no doubt had paid a high price for each drag if the market on Ereago resembled Reznic's in any way.

  "Come in farther," a gravelly voice said. Under the red light, an extremely pale humanoid woman reclined on a large pillow, propped up above the rest on a marble podium, almost resembling a throne. In her hand, she held the same long pipe, though hers gleamed with jewels. It shined as much as the gold body necklace that cascaded down her torso, forming intricate patterns. The lighting made her skin pinkish in color. "You're the pilot that Vlar sent? You have the grain?"

  Katya stepped forward. "All three tons of it. We'd . . . I want it off my ship." She swallowed hard. "Before this war breaks loose."

  "It has been brewing for some time, ebbing and flowing. But when the Magistrate inserted itself, thinking it could settle centuries of hostilities . . ." She shrugged. "But it's inconsequential." Usha's lips wrapped themselves around the ivory pipe, taking another drag from the narghile. Once finished, she jerked her head toward a man standing beside her podium. He advanced, extending a case to Katya. "My men will be quick. They're already waiting at the port to remove it and to prevent complications."

  "Complications?" Rein tightened his fists.

  "Need is great in the city. There are some who would do anything to get a hold of such a valuable commodity."

  "It seems you already have a commodity. Why grain?" Rein pressed. His lips were thin, and Katya resisted the urge to elbow him. They were in no position to be self-righteous.

  Usha exhaled, sending smoke upwards from her mouth. "It doesn't pay to put all in any one commodity. Markets are volatile." A closed-mouth smile touched her heavily dyed lips, which were done up in a deep purple. "Times are changing." Snapping her fingers, a man with a case stepped forward. "As for your payment—"

  "Not so fast." Rein sounded more drunk this time.

  "What are—" Katya got no further as Rein staggered forward, his index finger leveled at Usha.

  "We unknowingly flew into a war zone. You can do better."

  Usha blinked and then broke out into a throaty laughter. "All business comes with risks, known and unknown. You accept it the moment you agree."

  "Yes, but if I've ever learned anything, markets fluctuate."

  Katya held her breath as Usha pensively puffed at her pipe—all the while the corners of her lips turned upward, allowing plumes of smoke to exit. When she set the device aside, she broke the silence. "So they do."

  The Filitre pointed to another attendant, who left and returned with a folded wad of hard Magistrate currency. It possibly amounted to an additional thousand or so aurums. The one with the case snapped it open and the clip was added to its green and purple currency. Katya stepped forward and accepted the case.

  "It's been a pleasure doing business," she said, bowing her head to Usha.

  Their contact waved her hands outwards before pulling them back toward herself and finally to the side; by the end of the gesture, her
palms faced the ceiling. "Business is always a pleasure. If you require future employment, be sure to return. An entrepreneur can do well here, relishing in the rewards of risks."

  Passing the case to her other hand, Katya shook her head. "Your offer is appreciated. However, count me among the wise. We have other places to be."

  "I'll com my men then. They will have the grain removed before you even return to your ship." Usha took to her pipe again. "Do be careful on your way back. As you have noted, Esh is a dangerous place."

  Katya dipped her head in farewell, an action not imitated by Rein, and they swiveled to leave the way they'd come. The recreational users in the main room remained where they'd been and didn't even note the pair's passing or exit from the building. Once again in the market, Katya and Rein paused to clear their lungs and their minds. The drugs clung, sticking in like nettles, but the buzz lessened.

  Rein leaned close, and she stiffened when he smelled her hair. "Better hope we don't hit any checkpoints going back into port."

  Her shoulders sagged. "Heh. I suppose smelling like a drug den won't be smiled upon."

  "Unlikely."

  Inhaling until her chest couldn't expand further, she exhaled. "Good thing I think they have bigger concerns at the moment, and I say we leave before they become ours as well."

  "Couldn't agree more."

  Rein positioned himself closer to the center of the street while she stayed near the storefronts. She shifted the case so it was between them. Surrounded by desperate people, walking around with a case full of money was a new level of lunacy. Her free hand stationed itself near her service pistol.

  "We used to bust places like that."

  "So we did," she responded.

  Rein's jaw clenched as his gaze shifted to a pair of men walking by. They were dressed like vagrants with patched and stained clothes. His body tensed, prepping for a fight, but the two men carried on past them.

  "Hit them hard, ensnare them before they could fully clear the net," Rein muttered.

  Katya tightened her grip on the case. "And change it up before they catch on to the pattern and adopt a new approach." She swallowed to drown the awkward laughter that bubbled up. "Here we are using their tricks."

  He glanced at her. "It does burn, doesn't it?" He licked his upper lip. "I remember when you arrived on Reznic, so fresh, naïve. I'd bet on you succumbing to Reznic's mealing stone. Despite everything, though, you kept at it, even though—despite the never-ending fight. You'd look like an avenging specter."

  Her skin crawled. "I had a job to do."

  "She has Plasovern ties, you know." He nudged his head back toward Usha's business. "She'll be pouring funds from that grain into their efforts. You can't say it doesn't rankle you. I know you too well to think it'd do otherwise."

  "It's survival." The words rushed out, even though he'd hit a mark. Her stomach clenched at the thought of the explosive materials the organization would be able to purchase with the price the grain would fetch—all thanks to the increased demand for such a commodity in a war zone, a war zone Plasovern had created.

  "Survival doesn't mean we have to support Plasovern."

  "When Vlar sent us here with the grain, neither of us were the wiser. And once here, we'd reached the point of no return. At least you managed to shake some more money out of them for our troubles."

  She and Rein shifted closer together as they reentered the hub of the market, bumping their shoulders in an attempt to both guard their revenue and minimize their presence. Katya wished for a cord to tether the case to her wrist, something to slow a speedy pickpocket. Most of these people—if they had any clue to the case's contents—would descend upon them like rats fighting over the barest of scraps. And she couldn't blame them.

  "I wouldn't have accepted this," she said," if I had any idea of Ereago's situation or its ties to this bloodbath. But now here . . . we might have taken it elsewhere, but—"

  "Survival," Rein finished. "We would've been out fuel and anywhere else we wouldn't have fetched a price to break even."

  "Such are the times we live in." They were just fortunate to not have their names and faces broadcasted across the galaxy. She could only imagine the Magistrate Brass were determined to play their cards close to their chest . . . an all too familiar tactic they'd often deployed on Reznic. She didn't doubt for a moment that the merchant on Gilga had sold them out. "We'll be more careful with the next job."

  The muscles in Rein's neck tightened. "All this for a small alien child."

  Her own posture tensed, a reaction programmed into her body whenever Rein mentioned Aquila. "He reminds me of myself."

  This raised Rein's eyebrows. He knew. Of course, he knew that Cassius had been a name given along with its citizenship. It was common knowledge, albeit one Katya spent her life ignoring and burying. Every so often, she opened the proverbial box and peeked in, only to shutter it, terrified that some demon might escape.

  "Do you remember much of your homeworld?"

  Her back ached with the tension that grew between her shoulder blades, made worse by the cramp brought on by the case's weight. "Not really."

  He flexed his hands but ceased his probing.

  They turned onto a side street to take a less crowded path to The Wandering Trader. Soon the messy grain would be gone—if Usha upheld her promise—and they'd be on their way, a little richer and able to change their identities again.

  Meters away, the crunches of boots on pavement headed toward them. Her stomach clenched. Distant memories, amorphous in nature, scorched through her mind, and she nearly stopped. A sensation pelted against the mental walls she'd formed over the years—a sensation of cold and snow, reddened and blotched. She jerked her attention back to the path in front of her, hoping her trembling limbs had gone unseen.

  "You should cut your hair or at least change the style," Rein said. "It's too distinguishing as it is now. We need to completely erase ourselves this time."

  Warmth seeped back into her face, her hearing clearing. Yet the thought of a haircut did little for her distressed stomach. Why? It'd always been her father's idea. As a child, she'd hated the time put into braiding and stringing each strand into place before fastening them with countless narrow pins—pins confining her to a culture, unknown and forgotten by her, that served as a barrier from the children surrounding her.

  Clipped tones awakened her from her brooding, and she lurched to the side of the street behind Rein. A group of Magistrate soldiers bustled past them, an officer shouting while another spoke into his com, yelling, "Have civilians take shelter, either in place or at the designated locations!"

  They're responding to something. A disturbance, maybe? Katya wiped her clammy palm against her pants before taking the case with it and doing likewise with her other hand. They needed to get off-world, and now.

  She increased her stride, pulling ahead of Rein. More Magistrate peacekeepers poured by, headed in the same direction as the other group. Plasovern and the Gata were moving. Katya fumbled with her scarf and tilted her head away from the Magistrate troops.

  Behind them, pops echoed, growing quieter by the time they'd traveled three blocks. They were almost nonexistent when they entered the spaceport. Security progressed throughout the port, a sizeable force stationing themselves at its entrance, where they scrutinized every inch of cargo and the documents of those spilling in, searching for safety. Katya and Rein passed through the security check quickly, carrying nothing but a slate and a case of Magistrate currency from what on paper seemed little more than legal trade deal. Any lingering scent of narcotics went uncommented, perhaps because of Usha's establishment's name.

  Once free of the security officer, Katya removed her headscarf, resting it along her shoulders. "We'll have to do the cosmetic work in space."

  "I can take care of that. You focus on the chip."

  The loading ramp still rested on Ereago's soil as if welcoming them back; the grain no longer crowded their hold. The only thing remaining was
its dust, with their feet leaving imprints when they walked across the hold. It even clung to the metal interior, lightening its gray.

  "Close up shop here, and I'll get us underway." She climbed the ladder and headed to the cockpit, intent to clear their departure and propel them as far from Ereago as possible—to escape the queasy sensation engulfing her.

  In the cockpit, she found a bundled-up Mina with a somewhat alert Aquila resting his chin on her shoulder. The temperature had been lowered to appease the Oneiroi child. Mina plucked her earbud from its place, the other end following from where it had dangled near Aquila's ear.

  "It's been silent." Mina set aside her device.

  "I wish I could say the same." Katya slid into her seat and thumbed a request to leave port. As she did so, the headscarf fluttered from her shoulders to the ground. "The city's not nearly as secure as the Magistrate news sources would have you believe."

  Mina's lips twitched. "What does that mean for us?"

  No instant response from the Magistrate relay at the port was forthcoming. A lockdown? Rubbing her left temple, she said, "It could mean nothing."

  "What's the worst-case scenario? You know, with how our luck has been going, we might want to go with that one first."

  "I'll level with you, Mina." Katya swung her chair to toward the girl. "If the Magistrate has us pinged, if they've tracked our movements up to this point—"

  "We aren't getting far."

  Katya frowned at Mina's ashen complexion. She'd grown prone to staying with the ship at each stop, ever since Gilga. The girl who had been so eager to explore each new destination seemed gone now, all within a matter of weeks. Still, her reluctance to leave the ship provided Aquila with a caregiver. But Katya still needed to address it. Anything else wasn't fair to the girl.

  She pressed her lips together. They'd all been different people weeks ago. She brushed her bangs to the side. And in a matter of what could be hours, they'd change again. Her hand touched one of her braids.

  "Is something wrong?" Mina asked.

  "It's nothing."

  A loud beep emitted from the communications console, and Katya activated the system to receive the message. "Notice to all ships: All arrivals and departures have been suspended indefinitely. Those in need of refueling should divert your course to Ereago's sister planet . . ."