by S M Wright
The mechanical message droned on, providing various scenarios and solutions. Their own solution: stay in place. Katya inhaled and applied more pressure to her temple. Another stab of pain blurred her vision. Trapped. Trapped on a ship that, if it wasn't already pinged by the Magistrate, soon would be. Only a matter of time. The trail connecting them to The Maelstrom hadn't been diluted enough; with a little digging, investigators would be able to follow the breadcrumbs. Elites would be involved in the hunt, bringing with them resources that far outclassed theirs.
She shifted her gaze to Aquila, who slept with his head resting on Mina's shoulder. What would be his fate if they caught up? Then there was Mina . . . her fate was more imaginable. There might be a time where Katya would pacify Rein's rumblings and leave Aquila and Mina, only not for the same reason he wanted them gone.
The intercom came alive. "What's the ETA?" Rein asked.
Katya throttled her initial response: when the war ends. "The port's on lockdown. There's no leaving."
A moment of silence followed, then he said, "We should start the work. Minor stuff on the inside."
"Get a start. I'm going to check out the port and see if I can dig up some information." Katya opened the case and removed some of the currency. She fanned it, counting out the amount prior to stuffing it in her breast pocket. It'd open possibilities; after all, hard currency offered many benefits: no traces and no worries about accounts being seized. "Mina, get him into bed."
"Is this wise?"
Katya stopped halfway through the door, reclaimed headscarf in hand, and faced Mina. "I want to know what's happening. It might even get us out of here. The last thing we can afford is to sit still." She fastened her headscarf into place. "If the port officials contact us, let me know immediately."
She then left the teenager, heading toward the cargo area, where Rein had already begun targeting identifiers and eliminating them.
He paused in the chore. "You shouldn't go out alone."
"I can handle myself." Her hand rested on her hip near her holster. "Mina is keeping an eye on the com traffic. Hopefully, the port will open; if not, there might be other means." Katya met Rein's glare with her own. "We can't be caught here. You know exactly what happens if we are."
He nudged a toolbox with his foot, bringing it closer to a serial number on the cargo hold's wall near the ramp. He reached down for the paint. "Good luck."
"I'll try to make some."
After leaving the ship, she strolled through the port. She kept her pace purposeful but slow enough to soak in the various conversations. Duty changes, trades, and random news from all over the galaxy—gossip in some cases—drove most conversations. A few talked about the port's current status, either spreading tidbits of the battle or venting about how the delay was impacting them. The port bustled with an assortment of travelers and crews, all stuck. Katya used her headscarf as a shield when a group of Magistrate soldiers marched by. A coldness seeped through her body with each step—boot-covered feet crunching in the snow. She shook her head, banishing the imagery.
Refocusing, she weaved her way to the row of merchant establishments, consisting of a couple small eateries and a bar called Ber'sek, a Varsaali slang word for a sex act. Quaint. Despite it, Katya entered, going between two bulky Borvinian bouncers who let her through. On the inside, she understood why: She was one of the few females in the joint, and the majority were dancing scantily clad on a centered stage against the back wall. A man near Katya caressed her butt. She slammed her hand into his wrist before bringing it back as a fist into his face. Blood squirted from the man's nose; even still, he managed to curse as he fell from his seat onto the floor.
Katya glowered at him. "Don't touch."
She then pressed farther into the dimly lit establishment, eventually arriving at the bar, where she favored a seat far from the entrance. Removing some of the currency, she laid it on the counter. "A stiff one," she muttered to the barkeep. He returned with a rocking glass of Tecarian whiskey. She swallowed some of it. A decent vintage at that. Warmth spread through her face and chest.
The barkeep lingered while she drank more. Humanoid, vaguely handsome if he had not taken to the hard drugs; his face had begun to droop because of the usage.
"Does the port close frequently?" Katya asked.
"From time to time. Depends on the Gata." He departed from her, going down the length of the bar to a set of patrons waving money.
Katya swung on her stool until she faced the room. A fur-covered Faleean female danced on the stage, her body movements somewhat hypnotic, or maybe the drug cocktail she'd walked into now mixed with the whiskey made it so. Beyond the dancer, a crew of Garrs hunched over a corner table and talked. She took another sip from her glass and rose.
Quirking her lips, Katya approached them, taking her drink with her. Garrs were not exactly known for their loyalty to the Magistrate; after all, the majority of their planet had tried to retake control of their government, only to fail. Garrs numbered quite extensively among Plasovern—others, meanwhile, dipped their hands into less than legal trades. Of course there were crews that stayed on the legal end of business, but in their current situation, a bet might prove worth it.
"Got room for one more?" Katya rested her free hand on her hip and strengthened the smile on her face.
"The table is full, as you can see," said one of the men.
"You heard him, Magistrate gercha!" another Garr said before taking a big swig from his mug. "We have no need for Magistrate soldiers."
"I'm not a Magistrate—"
The Garr that had spoken snorted, spit rising up in his throat. "You talk like Magistrate. You walk like Magistrate scum soldier." He spat off to the side. "Take your stench with you."
"You misunderstand me." Katya set her drink on the table, the glass making a slight thud against the wood surface. "I'm not Magistrate—not anymore. I've reverted to my roots prior to being taken to Meracus Domus as a child."
"And what do I care?" He redirected his attention to his companions, pointed teeth revealing themselves as he chuckled—the sound raised the hair on the back of her neck. "Now, leave!"
Steeling herself, Katya brought her fist into the table; vibrations reverberated through her arm, along with trickles of pain. "You don't understand, my friend," Katya said through her clenched teeth. "I need to get my ship off this rock before hell breaks loose . . . without Magistrate trappings." She took another chance. "Usha suggested help could be found here."
The group of men straightened and glanced at each other, and one in the back corner cleared his throat. "Many suns are scattered across the galaxy."
Katya clenched her jaw. "I can't say what you want me to say." She shifted her gaze but found no unneeded attention centered on her and her new acquaintances. "I'm not Plasovern," she said, sotto voce by the time she reached the organization's name. "But I'm not Magistrate, not anymore. And without going into much detail, I possibly have Elites on my tail. You lot strike me as men of means—means to know every out."
"So the little gercha has found herself a metmek being chased by the ravenous ketkerrs," the rude one said. "Know what is like to not be a coreworlder." He took a drink from his mug. "Breathe easy. The ketkerrs don't know you are here. The Magistrate can't see what happens here, who comes, who goes." He smirked. "Not until they repair their precious relay."
She gaped, her limbs practically electric at the sudden boon they'd received. "That, however, doesn't stop troops and Elites from landing."
"The relay? No, that doesn't stop them coming, but other things maybe."
The marketplace with its blackened facades burned in her mind. "Things that might block others' departures."
"Unless they can pay the price." The one in the back corner spoke again.
"To whom is the price paid?"
The Garrs paused, trading knowing looks before the one in the corner stated, "A lieutenant of the port, Eligius. He will take bribes. If you pay the right price, he may let you
out of lockdown. Now leave us, gercha."
Katya tilted her head and saluted them with two fingers. "Thank you." Whether she would genuinely feel gratitude, however, resided solely on whether Eligius was as bribable as they suggested or would instead throw her in jail.
She maneuvered toward the exit. The one man—now nursing his bloodied nose—slinked from her when she passed. This time there was no straying hand, though Katya swore he muttered a curse at her. She ignored it; after all, she was already good and cursed. Besides, further attention would be . . . imprudent.
Stepping into the street, Katya lifted a portion of her scarf to cover her lips before forcing herself to walk closer to a group of Magistrate officials, even meeting their gazes before checking their tags. None of them her man. With a hurried pace, they traveled past her, heading to the port's perimeter. As another Magistrate soldier walked by, Katya cleared her throat.
"I'm looking for Lieutenant Eligius."
"Now that's a familiar dialect." The soldier bowed his head to her. "Don't hear it much out this way. What brings you here?"
"Just another stop on the way home. My family made some bad investments, and I've taken on some extra work." Katya lowered her scarf and plastered a smile of her face. "This was meant to be a brief stop before we headed back to the Mezzo and then home. But what we didn't know now has us stranded on this rock. Imagine people willing to blow themselves up!"
The soldier grabbed the metaphorical hook. "These people—Plasovern as a whole—are just dreadful." He leaned in closer to Katya and pointed toward an official Magistrate building. "Eligius is in the command post. He might be able to help a fellow citizen." The soldier winked and headed off, leaving Katya to approach the Magistrate port authority building alone.
The interior of the building had been mostly vacated, with a skeleton crew manning it. One of the few remaining officials greeted her. With the entire front of the building composed of synth glass panes, Katya had to shield her eyes against the glare of the sun, which made it hard to follow the man's movements.
"Please step to the side." The soldier motioned for her to drop the scarf. "No weapons or devices are allowed past this point."
Katya placed the scarf into the proffered bin. Her breath threatened to hitch as the soldier ran his hands over her body. He removed her slate, com, and AVI-13. The money, after inspection, remained in her pocket; the rest joined the scarf in the bin, leaving her feeling naked. The soldier lifted the slate from the bin and turned it on to determine identity. "What brings you to the port authority today?"
"I'm looking for Lieutenant Eligius," she said.
"What's your business with him?" the sergeant asked.
"That's between him and me." Katya quirked her lips while her hand trailed down her side to her hip. "Let's keep it at that, hmm?"
The man swallowed hard before he pointed to a set of stairs. "Take those; he's in the control room. Don't be surprised if your, er, plans have changed. And on the off chance you aren't one of Eligius's flings: Don't think you can try something stupid. We're on high alert and won't tolerate any actions that could be interpreted as subversive."
"You needn't worry." Katya bypassed the sergeant, fully aware of his gaze tracking her movements as she climbed the stairs. Beneath her feet, the ground floor loomed at her through the synth glass steps. Everything in synth glass. Would it fare any better than brick and mortar if a bomb went off? She had no desire to find out. As she cleared the top step, a device zoomed forward and scanned her for any weapons or devices that might have been missed at the door. The probe buzzed her face before retreating to its station.
Several consoles stood untouched, with only two people standing watch. One man paced back and forth as he talked in a clipped tone to someone over his com unit. "Don't give me that," he snapped. "You'll get that relay system back up. The damned Gata are moving and the Brass are breathing down my neck! You will get your lazy asses to that relay—no, I don't care if you are taking fire. Get it done!"
He paced, freezing upon coming across Katya. His mouth tightened into a thin line, and he cut the feed. "Who are you? What do you want?"
The only other soldier in the room did not break her gaze from her station. A com device perched in her ears, suggesting she was listening to transmissions and unable to hear what was happening around her.
Katya stepped forward. "I hear you might be able to help a fellow citizen." She removed the wad of cash from her pocket. "I didn't stop at this world to get trapped here by a war."
"None of us want to be trapped here. These people have no understanding of gratitude." He swung his hand toward the window. "Bring them modern convenience—heck, cure their children from diseases wiped out centuries ago—and they attack us.
"No gratitude at all," Eligius concluded as he approached her, his hand brushing against her face.
Katya schooled herself not to move, allowing him to touch her as no man had done since he . . . since she'd left Reznic.
Eligius smiled, his eyes drinking her in. "We all want off this rock. But it does take some doing. Still . . . it's possible that Magistrate citizens might be given the opportunity. We do have certain privileges after all."
"We are blessed," Katya said. A smile crept onto her face when the lieutenant took the money from her hand. "It should help pay your way once you escape."
"Oh, I have no doubts." He unfurled the roll, skimming the paper currency. "It's a lot nicer than electronic transactions. More real—"
"Less traceable."
"Most definitely." He pocketed the money and glanced at his underling, who had yet to do anything beyond monitor her station. "Perhaps you could sweeten the pot even more."
"I'm afraid I have little time for that; I can't help but feel time is of the essence." Katya stepped closer to the almost seamless windows. "Do we have a deal?"
He followed her, caressing her face more. His fingers slipped down to trace her neck, the lining of her shirt's collar. As his hand traveled down her flesh, his mouth twisted into a smile. "I'm sure you can make time. After all, we have all the time—"
The room's other occupant spoke, her baritone voice displacing their bargaining and freeing Katya from Eligius's touch. "Sir, Elites coming in."
"About bloody time. Patch them into my headset."
"Their transmission isn't live, sir; they're sending generic instructions and requesting space to land . . . no mission listed beyond it being classified." She launched a diagram of the spaceport, waving through its sections. "It's a B-Class special ops vessel, sir; we'll need to clear space to accommodate it."
Eligius lifted his head, peering up at the sky—his hand blocking the sun—as if to spot the ship, which remained in orbit. "Sounds like brutes this time, sergeant. Alert our men to stay out of their way." Then to Katya, he said, "What block were you in?"
"B-4."
"Sergeant, clear section B-4. Effective immediately."
Katya saluted Eligius, making the motion loose, more fitting of her current persona. "I appreciate it, Lieutenant."
She paused at the top of the stairs when Eligius called, "What's your name?"
Katya replied, "Clementia." Waving, she descended the stairs at a steady pace, despite her heartbeat's frantic rate. Elites incoming. Breks? Had they finally traced them to The Wandering Trader? She approached the table with her belongings and returned them to their places.
"Didn't go as planned, huh?" the sergeant from earlier asked upon her return.
Katya shrugged as she wrapped the scarf around her head and neck, using its fabric to cover her mouth. "It wasn't the right time, but you already knew that."
Her possessions all in place, she waltzed out to Esh's spaceport. Her pace transformed into a jog once clear of the port authority building's immediate complex. B-4 already buzzed with activity by the time she arrived. Engines hummed as crews rushed to load supplies. Katya's stomach lurched when several ships lifted. Damn it! She ran now, clearing The Wandering Trader's ramp in quick
strides.
Rein, who had been going through boxes, jerked to attention.
"Rein, prep the FTL drive. We're leaving."
"I heard our block is being cleared—"
"Elites are incoming." Not waiting for a response, Katya hurdled up the ladder and into the cockpit.
There, she activated the engines. Mina, sitting at the communications station, gaped at her.
"We—"
"We've got to go," Katya finished. Via the viewscreen, she was alerted to another group of departing ships. She brought The Wandering Trader up, intent to stay clustered among them. "Keep an eye on the radar. Keep our signal a bland Magistrate one. And let me know if I get too close to anyone."
"Elites?"
"Yes. Most likely due to the conflict brewing on-world." Katya added the last part after Mina tensed.
Through the viewscreen, the sky bled to a deep blue, the stars coming into view, burning clearer as their speed built up. Katya held her breath as a few of the ships around her broke off, heading in different directions. She swung The Wandering Trader over until it hovered between a bulkier cargo ship and a pleasure yacht, matching their velocity. In the murkiness of space, light from Ereago's sun reflected off the metallic black Elite ship. As the sergeant had stated, it was a special ops vessel, a newer model at that—small, sleek, and beyond anything their ship could dish out in speed.
Katya kept her hands steady on the helm and begged the Elite vessel to maintain its course to the planet.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Those idiots. Akakios cracked his knuckles. Another group of vessels slipped from the planet of Ereago like fler rats scurrying to the escape pods. And like all the others rocketing through the atmosphere, they fled faster than the Boreas's equipment could obtain proper identifications.
"Have the port authority send IDs on those ships," Akakios said to Charis.