Heritage Lost

by S M Wright

  "Who are you?" A violet Csek surged toward them. "I must ask—"

  Akakios met the Csek's gaze; her frame stiffened as if doused with ice water, and a breathless gasp excited her mouth. Control of her limbs vanished, and she collapsed to her knees. Akakios released her mind, allowing the remnants of paranoia and fear to drift back to their hiding spots. Stepping over to her hunched frame, he dragged her up. Saliva dripped from her mouth, along with ragged breath.

  "Your mistress. Where is she?" he asked.

  The Csek's head lulled to the side, slight tremors passing through her body. No response. Akakios tilted her face back, forcing her eyes to the same level as his. With the connection made, she shook. Images—distorted as with all non-Oneiroi—filtered like a corrupted film reel to his mind: a hallway, a door hidden within the paneling. Random images intermixed the connection—her running, falling, a man looming over her—Akakios used them to distract her, keep her pliant.

  "This way." Akakios dropped the Csek and marched into the dim hallway, counting the panels until he arrived.

  He touched the blended control panel. Nothing. Slamming his rifle's butt into it, Akakios cracked the glass screen, dispelling its hologram concealer and sending a few small sparks at his face. He rattled the weapon throughout the new opening, removing additional glass and exposing the wiring.

  "Let me." Charis brushed his arm as she descended on the mechanism. After a few adjustments, she opened the door to a small antechamber.

  Beyond it, they uncovered a larger room. Similar to the lobby and hallway, red light covered every inch. A good number of users lay drugged out on pillows, attached to their narghiles. The pendent light fixtures shuddered when another explosion hit on the outside.

  "It's odd to find Oneiroi in my den," a gravelly voice enticed Akakios. A humanoid woman, sitting on a plush pillow elevated above the rest, flipped her long white hair over her shoulder. Taking in her pale, almost translucent skin that captured the red light, Akakios knew he'd found their Filitre. The woman, Usha, took a drag from her narghile. "What brings the Magistrate's dogs to me? My heh'sha? My purple lady? It is legal on this world, so weary with its trouble . . . at least, until the Magistrate's regulations fully phase it out in a couple of years."

  "Ah, that's why you're supporting Plasovern and the rebels, then? To keep your little drug empire running," Pelagia said, earning a mental order from Akakios to shut her mouth.

  "There are no such ties. You are grasping at straws, my little pup." More smoke emitted around the corners of her mouth. The Filitre curled her lips as if enjoying her own private joke.

  "I don't care about your business dealings!" Even Akakios admitted he resembled a barking dog much like how Usha had painted all Oneiroi. Magistrate dogs. It'd been a popular insult hoisted at his people. "I only care about one of your business associates. A woman who came here piloting a ship called The Wandering Trader. And don't try to lie; I know she was here."

  "I don't hand out details about my associates." Usha placed the pipe on a stout side table, which had a notched edge to receive it.

  "You will or else you'll meet the same fate as your employees out front."

  Chuckling, Usha flowed upward to her feet from her large pillow. "You won't find me so easily vanquished." She clicked her tongue against her teeth, almost bordering on derisiveness. "But you should be wary of picking on the weak. Poor Hadjara. What phantoms did you conjure for her? What relics of the past did you uncover while on your mission? All for nothing." She met his gaze, winking at him. One corner of her mouth lifted. "The woman did come here, but I know nothing about her, only that she delivered my grain as promised. She didn't wish to conduct further business and departed to parts unknown. A shame, really. Such competent pilots are hard to find."

  "Who was she with? Did she have a child, a toddler, with her?"

  The lines on Usha's face smoothed, all signs of amusement erased. She got out a syllable—then the world upended. The light fixtures shattered to the ground, along with pieces of the ceiling. Akakios jerked his hands up to shield his head and neck. His vision blackened after something impacted with his back, sending him to the ground.

  Coughing, Akakios met resistance when he moved. Akakios sent out through the channels connecting him to his crew. He shifted to one side, displacing some of the pressure off his back. A crunching sound approached, and then more weight was lifted.

  "Most of the building's down." Pelagius hefted more debris from Akakios, grunting at the exertion. "Charis took it worse . . . got a broken leg or something. Going to be a challenge getting her back to the spaceport."

  "Poor dogs," Usha said. Akakios shifted to find her dusting herself off and lumbering to sit on a heap of her store. She squinted at the sun before blocking it with her hand. "Dig, dig, dig. You may free yourself here, but you'll remain collared, and you won't even see it—if you did: oops." The corners of her mouth tipped upwards.

  A few of her patrons had survived the explosion, but others, a majority it would seem, had been too close to the eastern wall and had been buried, dead and alive alike.

  "I don't know, I think I'd rather be collared than associated with people who have no qualms about seeing me, or my establishment, as collateral damage." Akakios groaned as Pelagius helped him to his feet. "The toddler—"

  "There was no toddler. Just the woman, a man, and a teenager who never left the ship per my men. Nothing more."

  "Sir, we need to get back." Ambrosios staggered forward, sporting a gash across his face and holding his arm.

  "Gather everyone. Pelagius, Pelagia, help Charis. Kyrillos, help me clear our path." Akakios faced Usha, flicking off more building crumbs and sending them in her direction. "Don't be surprised if the Magistrate completes a full investigation of your operations here."

  "Oh, I have no doubts they will, but they won't find anything." She returned to her feet. "Good fortune on your hunt."

  Akakios hesitated. She hid something, probably a great many things. Her people may be harder to affect, but they were not immune to the Oneiroi's gift, with the right amount of pressure . . . Yet, she had met his eyes in regard to the child, and in the end, that was the only question that mattered. Any ties to Plasovern mattered little at the moment, nor did her extensive drug empire. The investigators would find nothing once they left, not even Usha herself, but that wasn’t his problem.

  "Let's go!"

  Together with Kyrillos, Akakios kicked through the panel door, which remained standing, along with the west wall. The blast might not have taken out the entire building, but as they entered the hallway, the creaks of stressed supports emphasized the need for haste. He waved Pelagius and Pelagia through with Charis.

  The front room had been abandoned, minus a few of Usha's workers who busied themselves collecting various drugs from the narghiles. One worker, upon seeing them exiting, darted down the hallway the Oneiroi had exited, no doubt in search of her mistress. The others did not break from their tasks, and the Oneiroi did not impede them. The world outside Usha's shop featured new broken windows and more deeply scarred buildings. With no vehicles in sight, Akakios took off on foot, his crew following close behind.

  "Keep your eyes open," Akakios called. Any way back to the port besides walking would be ideal. Surely, some mode of transportation had been left, something still in decent shape that would get them a few miles.

  By now, the area had been vacated. Traveling several blocks, Akakios spotted an abandoned cruiser: a two-seater with a metal bar pierced through its engine block, in what had likely been the worst day of its owner's life. Akakios kept his team moving in search of other prospects.

  The sounds of strife—now faint pops of weapons fire—remained a good distance behind them. Planetary fighters no longer swept through the sky, which was a shade of bright blue that would never be seen on Demos Oneiroi, or even by his unaided eyes.

  "Captain?"

  "Nothing." Akakios resumed hi
s fast stride, not even remembering having stopped. He also hadn't realized he had taken a wrong turn in the maze that was Esh. He didn't know the city well enough, and the map's 3-D projection was worthless since so many buildings and roadways had been dismantled during the ruckus.

  The road they were on led to a large green space in the city. A pavilion had been damaged, with its roof now sagging toward the south. The playground equipment sat untouched, the swings moving in the slight breeze. Beyond that, a few trees remained rooted, surrounded by swatches of grass and a few flowers and other plants. Clear skies. Aerial evacuation might be worth the risk.

  Behind Akakios, Pelagia breathed heavily as she and her brother approached. Between the two of them, they kept Charis upright. His second grimaced with each step.

  Any other way would take too much time, open them to a skirmish. Akakios clicked on his com. "Chrysanthos, trace this signal and pick us up. Tell Elpis to prepare for wounded."

  "How bad?"

  Despite the level, detached tone, Akakios caught the slight tension. "Not bad. Hurry before the opposition scrambles more fighters."

  "Got your signal; we'll be there soon."

  Pelagia and Pelagius moved Charis over to a round piece of playground equipment and sat her on it. Pelagia offered something from her pouch, a pain reliever, to Charis, who waved it away.

  "Don't say I didn't offer it twice, Commander," Pelagia said under her breath before re-pocketing the syringe.

  "So what now?" Ambrosios rubbed his arm, his face stuck in a grimace.

  "We patch ourselves up and pray the trail doesn't go cold."

  "They've changed their ship before, their identities; they're bound to do it again."

  Sighing, Akakios ran his hand through his hair, dust lifting from it. "I'm well aware. We'll have to count on them making a mistake. I'd put my stakes on that rather than intelligence providing any useful information." A rattle of metal drew his attention to an empty swing. "But since we're rather beaten up, we'll go to the Mezzo, to the medical station orbiting Frete."

  "Elpis will be pleased, her and plenty of eggheads."

  "You two are too rough on her," Kyrillos cut in.

  Ambrosios chuckled. "If she can't take the jesting, she's in the wrong career path. She could've been a doctor on Demos Oneiroi or on a station. I realize you're sweet on her but—"

  Kyrillos's face scrunched as he lifted a finger to his superior and opened his mouth.

  Akakios cleared his throat and pointed at a black shape approaching. "Our ride's on its way."

  As their ship drew closer, a loud humming followed, deeper than the planetary fighters. Chrysanthos brought it to hover close enough for them to mount the ramp without requiring the ship to land. Elpis greeted them and rushed to Pelagius and Pelagia as they moved Charis up the ramp. Akakios followed, stopping Elpis before she could accompany Charis to the infirmary.

  "Did you find anything?"

  "The port officials were lax and failed to keep records. Between them and myself, we didn’t find The Wandering Trader in port. It’s possible they weren't even here." She shouldered past Akakios. "Now I have actual work to conduct. Be sure everyone else with injuries visits me. I won't condone actions that reflect poorly on my work ethic."

  "Cuts and bruises," he said, referring to his own injuries, "will have to wait until we are out of orbit."

  Akakios jogged toward the bridge, intent to get them out of reach from any planetary fighters. With Ambrosios and Charis out of commission, he assumed the role of pilot, taking control back from Chrysanthos. The Boreas lurched upward. Outside the viewscreen, the blue sky blurred to a deeper shade before becoming a black that was littered with stars. From this distance, Ereago looked peaceful and undisturbed.

  Reaching over the console, he solidified the coordinates for the medical facility. The world below continued to turn—a dead end that had left two of his crew members injured with nothing to gain, except for a brief presence in his mind. He hammered his fist into the console.

  Patience. Drakon, the man who'd trained him, had drilled it into him many times. There would be leads. Akakios pinched his lower lip between his teeth after it threatened to twist. But ole Drakon had never lost everything.

  The door to the bridge opened, and Kyrillos entered, dropping his hand from his bald head as he took his place at the communications station. The emotions fled with his entry, and Akakios initiated the jump.

  CHAPTER NINE

  After hours spent peeling away any remnant tying the ship to its original identity, Katya ensconced herself at the engine room's workbench. There, she cemented their new identities on the registration chip, a newer Magistrate version but one she'd worked with on Reznic. She quirked her lips. As much as she’d hated the planet, she could not deny her adversaries had taught her how to survive the life she now found herself living. Removing the wire that connected the chip to her slate, she closed both devices. The light remained green on the other side of the registration chip: her tampering undetected. Katya released her breath. They were now the Minerva, a ship with a cursory history that would cave if prodded too much.

  "That'll get us by." She swiveled her seat around and handed the chip to Rein. "It's not as good as our previous one, but I have a limited knowledge of civilian vessel IDs. I suggest we stick to backwater planets for now. Limited Magistrate presence and no relays."

  Rein examined the chip. "More carrier jobs, huh?"

  "Just enough to put food in our bellies, refuel, and keep up on maintenance . . . add to our history and give them something to weed through so it doesn't look like we appeared out of nowhere."

  "New identities?"

  "How does Nereus sound?" Katya asked rhetorically since she wasn't hacking into the chip again.

  "Any special meaning?" He leaned against her workstation. Too close.

  "Just came to mind." Katya stood and distanced herself. "I didn't put much thought into it. We're bound to burn through identities. Hersilia is mine, and Mina's Aeliana. Aquila can keep his since he's never been listed on the ship registration chips before"—she raised her hands to stall his protest—"just like he isn't listed on this one."

  Rein's mouth tightened.

  "Get it in place," Katya said before she stretched, relieving kinks in her back. Her head pounded too much to get into an argument with her former lieutenant. It'd been like that for days now, ever present no matter how many migraine pills she swallowed. "I'll check in with Mina."

  She walked with a slant, the pain throwing off her balance. At least Rein hadn't noticed. She paused in the corridor outside the cockpit and leaned into its cool metal; it temporarily lifted the drilling in her head and eased her trembling frame. While she believed Rein still had her back, she feared showing too much weakness around him. Military order was no longer present to maintain balance.

  Breathe. In. Out. She traced the seams of the wall with her left index finger. She reached almost-normal and detached herself from the corridor.

  More settled, Katya proceeded to the cockpit, where Mina lounged with her legs resting on top of a console, though she returned them to the floor as soon as Katya entered.

  "You really need to stop that." She shooed the teen from the pilot's seat. "One of these days, you're going to accidentally trigger something."

  "I'm careful."

  "I'm sure." Katya activated the planetary map system. While the isolation of space provided some comfort, they couldn't cling to it like a security blanket. "Any special requests, Aeliana?" Katya smirked. Mina had requested the name, drawn to it, no doubt, by a certain Magistrate singer.

  "Somewhere temperate or tropical." The girl lifted her hand, her fingers splayed. "I've never been this pale in my life . . . it can't be healthy."

  "It isn't." Katya needed to get Mina off the ship and under a sun. Ship lighting had been designed to infuse inhabitants with some vitamin D, but it didn't beat the real thing. "Temperate it is. I'm setting Cantno into the navigation computer. We'll enjoy s
ome downtime there and pick up a job."

  "How far?"

  "A little over two weeks, but that'll give us time to get everything in order: our new stories and verify nothing survived the purge." With the coordinates in place, Katya rolled her head from side to side and stood. Brushing her tongue against teeth, she fought the curse bubbling up her throat. More pain emitted from her right temple.

  "Keep an eye on things, Mina. I need to take care of something else and check on Aquila. Let me know if there are any pings on the radar. I want to be here if we have to make contact with another vessel."

  "Understood." Mina saluted her, the tip of her tongue peeking out between her lips. "You might also get some sleep." She lifted both hands. "I'm just saying. You've been up for twenty-six standard hours."

  Ah . . . there was that. Hours spent repainting, removing objects, and working on that chip. It likely accounted for her limbs feeling leaden. Biting down on her lip, she winced. Her mind might as well have been wrapped in cotton at this point.

  Mina frowned at her.

  "I hear you," Katya said, relaxing her face, even winking at her. Mina's expression grew less concerned. "I'll check in on you after my nap."

  With a wave, Katya retired to her quarters.

  She sucked in air when the cold struck her face. Grabbing one of the sweaters Mina had picked out for her, she bundled up, a necessity since the room was now kept at a balmy forty degrees. She approached the toddler bed, fastened in place by a series of bolts, and checked on the room's other occupant. He slept—always sleeping. But the sickly sheen of sweat had not returned. His weight had stabilized, though was nowhere near healthy. Between Mina and her, they'd been getting food down him at least. It remained a struggle, though. Trial and error, more often the latter. She touched his cool cheek; the gesture went unnoticed.