by S M Wright
Stepping away, Katya dug through the storage unit near her bed, where she removed a small sewing kit her sister, Anaïs, had given her to mend her uniforms. A Tridetarian, Anaïs had always been talented with her hands in a way Katya could never hope to replicate, but that was all right as their papa had always told them: "The lot of you might be different, but you all have your own special talents and each other." They all hailed from different worlds and different species, were all disconnected from their places of origin. Instead, there had been world after world, following their papa from dig to dig, while he kept them tied to forgotten pasts with haircuts, clothing, books, and toys. Oh, he would tell them about their worlds, but it had likely been from the perspective of an outsider captivated by a culture.
The kit's scissors in hand, she entered her bathroom, where she froze in front of the mirror. Rein was right: The hairstyle was too remarkable, unique. Setting down the scissors, Katya freed her braids, allowing them to fall straight down her back, and set aside the pins. After untying their ends, she ran her fingers through, which resulted in two swatches of wavy hair. She freed the bun last. Her hair resembled a curly coated sheepdog.
Her shaking hands gripped the scissors and lifted them until the blade rubbed against her hair, severing a few strands. Grimacing, she dropped them; their metal clattered against the sink's basin.
"Tehh." Hunching over, Katya rested all of her weight on the small square countertop. Images of snow—stirred by Ereago and the soldiers' black boots—filtered from her deep subconscious. So clear. Snow, red stains, boots, screams—slamming her fist into the metal sink, Katya broke the images and forced herself up. Hair. Simple, regrowable hair. She groped for the scissors, her gray eyes avoiding them and the mirror, until her fingers wrapped around their plastic-coated handles.
Then, she clipped. One strand. Clip. Another clump. Others followed until hair coated the floor. The absence of something against her neck struck Katya for the first time in her life. For so long . . . Blinking, she found herself unrecognizable in the mirror. Her bangs remained long and boxy, but the rest had been unevenly cropped, looking like the work of a deranged lunatic. Mina could fix it. Katya shook her head, scattering more loose remnants before running her fingers through her hair and then air, so unused to its shortness.
Katya reentered her room and slumped onto the bed, where she rested her face in her hands. When she shifted, a pair of eyes blinked at her, still clouded with sleep.
"What do you think of me now, huh?" Katya hoisted the boy from the crib. He coughed, drawing a chuckle from her. "I've—we've managed to burn through so many identities." She brought him to the bed, the mattress sinking under her. "Though you still remain at two—but me, I'm on my fourth. I can't even remember my first. I was just a couple years older than you, I think." Katya yawned as she settled into her pillows. "I don't want it to be the same for you, but we'll make the best of whatever comes. I promise you that."
Aquila squawked. Katya's eyebrow rose with it, particularly when a second one followed. The boy had never been vocal before. "You can be talkative, huh?" The boy's lips moved as if mimicking her, only without noise—then another squeak. Katya's smile broke into a yawn. While the headache had lifted, her fatigue remained a constant.
"I know, I know." Katya rocked him. "You just woke, but I would prefer to sleep without you waking me." She relocated him so that his head rested against her shoulder. "Perhaps if I tell you a story, you'll let me have my nap."
Clearing her throat, Katya struggled to think of something. Her father had told several tales, many of which he had learned in his studies and time spent on various planets. Each had held a different core lesson, one important to the people who had crafted the story. Most of the stories had centered on individuals faced with challenges, ending with them surmounting them. Warriors, royalty, farmer boys, liars, and musicians—she'd spent too much time with her father.
She shook her head. "Dissecting components of children's stories . . . to make children's stories."
Her mind clouded, and she yawned again. She'd wing it. "There was a planet—you would love this planet—that was covered in snow nine months out of thirteen. A truly frigid planet, or perhaps only a portion of the planet—yes, just a part of it so we're both happy." Katya’s head sank further into her pillows. "Mountains stretched in the north with streams and rivers bringing water down to the small villages and cities. The capital, just beautiful, resembled a gem shining between two mighty rivers. And it was in this empire that a . . ." Katya tried to blink the sleep away. "That a princess lived."
Katya smirked as Aquila's lips slowed in their efforts to replicate her own. "The princess was well loved, and she would ride her horse through some of the empire's villages. She would bring healing to the ill and alms for the poor."
Aquila yawned. "Heh, you need to be understanding," Katya said. "I'm not good at stringing together stories. But I think you're right, it needs conflict . . . but not a dragon, not—" Her hand shot to her head as pressure built. The last thing she remembered was Aquila's eyelids moving rapidly. The pain lessened when sleep swallowed her.
Cold. It cut through her, seeped into her bones. She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. A shroud covered her surroundings. Where was she? Katya—her name, yes—spun. Like a damaged, old-fashioned reel in a faulty projector, her surroundings refused to focus. Walking. Her feet carried her to a point in the distance as if on their own accord. Snow. It crunched under her feet. It was untarnished and reached past her ankles, slowing her pace, threatening to topple her. Sounds grew muffled under the loud beating of her heart.
Unaware of time, Katya continued to walk—her legs smaller and unable to move fast enough. Something dragged her along. Reaching up, Katya tried to wipe the film from her eyes. However, only one hand reached its destination; the other remained engulfed in a much larger hand. It pulled her along. She couldn't make out the garbled words, not over the blood pounding in her ears. Her free hand rubbed her eyes. The world cleared marginally, though a film blocked her peripheral vision. Moving beyond the hand, her eyes traveled up the arm. Tha-dump . . . tha-dump . . . tha-dump. A man. His strong back turned to her. Wavy dark brown hair, visible from beneath a thick winter hat, rustled in a stiff, chilly breeze.
Her chest constricted, and Katya tried to pull away. She wanted—needed—to go back; she couldn't go forward. Breaths morphed into wheezing gasps. She couldn't see. As her head turned back, like a puppet on a string, red blazed, littering the snow. Can't—she couldn't breathe. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her face twisting. She wanted to flee like a frightened rabbit. She didn't—she couldn't go forward. The invisible strings rooted her in this moment, the moment. She revolted against the threads, spinning and cursing. They threatened to uncover . . .
Ragged breaths shook her frame, and her back collided with a cavernous surface. The hand that had held hers gone. She clenched her pant legs and brought her knees nearer to her body, sinking her face into them as she sobbed.
Her ears buzzed. The world around her, while clearer for a time, broke apart. The rocky cavern walls wavered, turning to blackness before they returned. Mumbled voices reached her, muffled by something resembling gauze in her ears; even so, she would never have understood the foreign language.
At a burst of laughter, Katya scuttled to her feet. She ran toward the sound, but the world switched again, to one of metal, not rock. She stiffened. This place . . . People walked by her, blurred as if traveling at a higher speed. But they were alive. They hadn't been. Yet here, they continued about routines on a doomed vessel, very much alive.
The image broke. Breks. In a flash, they vanished, replaced by panic and weapons fire ricocheting off the walls. The world clouded again. Grunting, Katya pressed her hands against her temples, struggling against the otherness in her head that, like a worm, weaved through her subconscious. It towed her under. Awareness faded—
Katya woke screaming; the sound, however, caught in her parched t
hroat. Hands—her own—tore at her eyes, struggling to clear the tears. Voices. Rein and Mina. Someone touched her, held her. Mina. She had smaller hands. Aquila. Realization flared through the pain in her head.
"What—he—" Her throat, so raw, constricted.
"I told you!" Rein roared. He pumped his fists, his face a livid red. "I told you he was dangerous."
Was. Katya jumped from her bed and stumbled to where Aquila lay crumbled like a discarded doll on the floor. Her limbs trembled as if in the midst of an anemic fit, and by the pain in her stomach, she believed she might actually be in one. Pressing her fingers against the boy's neck, she found a pulse, but blood seeped from a decent-sized gash that snaked its way from his forehead to a couple centimeters into his hairline.
"What did you do?" Katya rounded on Rein, Aquila in her arms. The boy trembled in shock, low whimpers rumbling in his throat.
"I saved your life! That little demon spawn had you trapped."
"You were asleep for two days, Katya," Mina said, still seated on the bed. Her lips, now coated in a vibrant purple, quivered, and she started to bite her lower lip before almost instantly releasing it. "We tried everything to wake you. Shook you, shook Aquila, moved him away from you—but you wouldn't wake up." Mina lowered her gaze, unable to meet Katya's as she rambled about their methods. "We—"
"Physical force worked." Rein dusted the front of his buttoned shirt.
"He's a toddler!" Katya laid Aquila on the bed, blood specks marring her white sheets. "He wasn't trying to hurt me—he was . . ." She didn’t know what he was doing, but at the moment, it didn't matter. "He needs medical attention."
"He just tried to kill you. He's probably the reason you've had so many blasted headaches. Are you even hearing yourself?" Rein threw up his hands. "I know you feel connected to him, responsible for him. But what if he drags us all into a deep sleep that we can't wake up from? Huh? What then? No one will be saving us. Mina and I did not sign up for that."
He stepped closer to her and the bed, hands in fists. Her chest constricted, pulse erratic. As she was now, deprived of food and water, she had no hope of besting him if it came to a physical fight. Like she'd feared, what balance military decorum had maintained had been shredded; there'd be no orders and she'd stored her service pistol too far away.
"We should airlock him and be done with it, for our sake and his," Rein boomed. "Look at him, Katya! He sleeps all day and barely wakes to eat. He's wasting away. Just look at his muscle mass. It's practically nonexistent, and eventually, his habits will create greater health problems. The merciful thing is to airlock him. End it quickly so he doesn't have to suffer."
"We aren't airlocking a child!" Katya spun toward Mina. The girl, who could be so sharp-tongued and bright, crumbled beneath the attention. "Do you feel the same way?"
"I don't want to hurt him." Mina wiped tears from her face. "But I don't want him to hurt us either."
Katya lifted Aquila and struggled with a pillowcase until the pillow fell out. Pressing the fabric against his wound, she distanced herself. "He wasn't trying to hurt me. If anything, he wanted to communicate." She opened the door. "Your concerns have been noted. But I'm taking us to the nearest medical clinic."
Rein flew after her until he was at her heels. She willed her limbs to loosen, to be prepared to grapple with the much larger male. Her training highlighted vulnerable body parts. Incapacitate him. Run to the cockpit. What good did that do? He'd have all the access to the firearms. Never again. Never again would she be without her service pistol. Then he sprung, and much like a constrictor, he grabbed her shoulders, squeezing down as if to overpower not only her body but also her will.
"Reconsider this!"
She slapped his one wrist; the motion lacked real power, the type she'd normally put behind it. He did, however, drop that hand, though he left the other in place, his nails pressing in.
"He's a danger to us. And if we take him to a medical center, they're going to know he doesn't belong to us. The game will be up."
"I know what I'm doing." Katya bared her teeth in a primal show, wheeling away from him with her one hand pressing against the back of Aquila's head. "An isolated clinic won't have the same procedures as a Mezzo or Core med center. They don't ask questions. Now stand down, or I will show you what they teach Magistrate officers!"
"I gave up everything because you couldn't leave well enough alone, Captain." His jaw clenched. "I almost had citizenship! Not everyone has that handed to him by chance." The venom in his tone reflected on his face. "I worked—"
"And I haven't?" Katya roared, her throat bleeding with the effort, so dry—damn, she needed water. She surged onto her toes until she invaded his space, shouting into his face. "I fought hard and struggled to get where I was. You aren't the only one who lost it all, so stand down!"
Rein ran his hands through his hair, staring at her with bulging eyes. From behind him, Mina’s breath hitched, clutching her hands in front of her. Her face was scrunched, eyes brimming with tears. Lowering her head, Mina bypassed him and chased after Katya as she sauntered to the cockpit. Farther away, Katya caught Rein's feet slamming against the metal floor in the opposite direction.
Katya's chest loosened once the cockpit door closed behind Mina and herself.
Between sniffs, Mina said, "I should've stopped him—I'm sorry, Katya . . . We didn't know what to do!"
"Shh." Katya laid Aquila on the empty bench attached to a small workstation, dropping the pillowcase off to the side. Despite her attempts to hush the girl, Mina sputtered apologies between harsh breaths. Katya, meanwhile, brought the first-aid kit to Aquila and attempted to stem the bleeding. Clenching her teeth, she applied pressure to a wad of gauze and the boy's wound. "Mina, calm—calm yourself. Come here."
Mina winced at her brusqueness.
Softer this time, she said, "I need your help."
She inched forward, and Katya took the teen's hands, putting them where hers had been on the gauze. "Keep applying pressure."
From the kit, she grabbed additional gauze, a wrap, a sanitizing agent, and zerna, a chemically engineered substance that promoted accelerated healing in humanoids and several other species.
"Lift the gauze." Katya knelt beside them. "Discard those and hold this." She pressed the new gauze into Mina's hand and then set out sanitizing the wound, which drew a low whine from her patient. Biting her lower lip, she broke open the zerna pouch. Please don't be allergic. With that, she smeared the gelatinous green salve onto the cut.
"The gauze." Katya directed Mina to place it on the wound. The girl's breathing had leveled out with only a few hitches. Mere hiccups really. Using the wrap, she secured the gauze in place. "There."
Mina lifted her head as Katya swayed to her feet. The room spun and bled before it righted itself. Waving the teen's helping hands away, Katya lumbered to her seat and sat. Mina blinked away tears.
Flinching, Katya reached out and squeezed the girl's shoulder. "You couldn't have stopped him even if you tried. He's stronger than you are. And you were rightfully scared." Her grip tightened. "You've been a help. I mean it. Never allow yourself to feel guilt over what you can't prevent; there's no use lingering on it. It'll only make you sick." It was one of life's hardest lessons, one she still struggled with herself. Releasing her grip, Katya gestured to the door. "Please fetch me something to drink and eat. Also, my service pistol's in my footlocker. Only grab it if you are comfortable doing so and Rein is not within sight."
Mina pressed her lips together and nodded. She slipped from the cockpit.
Katya rubbed her face, rocking in the chair. Her heart raced. If he wanted to stop them, he had access to the engine room. She forced her hands away. She could lock him out, but that didn't prevent him from mucking up the works.
First Aquila.
Katya hunted for a clinic; it would take a few minutes for the navigation console to pool possibilities. Katya tried to gather enough saliva to wet her mouth and throat. Two days. Except f
or the effects impacting her body, Katya would have sworn it had only been a few hours. Phantoms of nightmares, hysterics, and dementias . . . so said the tales spread by the lucky, those who left Oneiroi inquisitions with their minds intact.
Aquila lay still. The occasional moan replaced by irregular breaths. He had shown her exactly why his people were feared, though there had been no real malice behind it. But there was danger even if she could not fully understand it. They needed to. Not doing so would open them to disaster. Rein, while extreme, was right. If they were all dragged under, they would likely die, but was that scenario even possible? What was the boy even capable of? Katya swallowed against the knot in her throat. Their survival depended on answers.
The cockpit door reopened after several minutes, and Mina handed her the service pistol first, which had been concealed in her hoodie, then a bottle of water, and a plate of Holgar summer rolls. Katya dove into the latter. Mina removed a second bottle from her hoodie but hesitated. Katya frowned around one of the rolls as Mina struggled to prop up the boy and force water down his throat. Guilt and fear mingled on the girl's face while her shoulders were pinched in quiet anxiety, ready for some response from the Oneiroi. Katya regretted the burden Mina bore now.
By the time she had eaten three of the rolls, her limbs strengthened, growing less shaky. Her mind also cleared but still lay miles away from running on all thrusters as it were. Setting aside the empty plate, she imbibed more water and cleared her throat. "I want you to start carrying a weapon at all times."
"I can't." She shivered, well aware of what carrying a weapon meant.
"I'll show you." Katya waved the teen forward and gripped her hand. "I hope you never have to use it, but I want you to have that skill in case you do."