Heritage Lost

by S M Wright

  Katya finished her fish and stood. "Papa, we need to head back. We've probably stayed too long as it is."

  "Don't worry; I have a story already worked up in case my colleagues ask questions."

  "It's not your colleagues I'm worried about."

  "I'll send along some of that smoked fish with you." Her father chuckled when Mina fed Aquila a piece of said entree. The boy gaped at first before chewing and swallowing it. "He seems to love it just as much as you do. I'll also send some of the bread and fruits with you too."

  Katya tried to speak, but her father talked over her as he readied the unasked-for supplies, stating he would hear no complaints on the matter. By the time he had loaded them down with food and learning materials, nearly the entire camp had set off for the archaeological site. One person who remained called out to her father, asking when he intended to come, to which he replied, "Soon. Right now, I must see this delivery crew off."

  The colleague didn't question why Faustus had bothered to supply a delivery crew with a heap of goods, allowing them to continue. Upon reaching the ship, Rein set to work warming the engines without a word. Mina hung back with Sotiris, only to be sent onto the ship by Faustus. After her departure, her father clasped Katya in a hug.

  "I'll pursue a few avenues. Discreetly." He swallowed. "If I can find the right approach, I may tactically speak with your Uncle Pontius. But . . . I don't trust him to put family first. No, the Magistrate comes first."

  "I always wondered what he did for the Magistrate."

  Her father released her. "He's up there. Secret, secret. I do not doubt he could improve your circumstances. It's a matter of if he would bother to or not. He's a hard man. I once saw him nearly cane a man to death for insult."

  Katya's eyes widened. No wonder her father had walled off his family from the man, preferring Vergo to the homeworld when not at excavation sites. He'd feared they'd become targets of his rage. His secretive position within the Magistrate had likely been a further stressor between the pair.

  Her father embraced her again. "For now, stay strong, Kat'ee, and stick to the outskirts. Even if the Magistrate is on the lookout for you, you should be able to make a decent life. You're smart; you'll survive this." He held her at arm's length as if trying to capture every detail of her appearance. Moistness clouded his eyes. "Don't drop so far of the radar that you can't contact me. I don't care what might happen to me; I would—I would worry too much not hearing anything from you."

  Feeling her own eyes dampen, Katya leaned in, embracing her father again; her head burrowed into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Papa."

  "Now, don't you start that; if you do, I'll join you." He squeezed her. "Take care, Katya. Not just of yourself, but that boy and girl. And be wary of that man. A man who feels his entire world slipping away can become dangerous."

  "I'm watching him." Katya stepped away and wiped her eyes with her hand, eradicating all traces of tears. "It's been tough on all of us but particularly him . . . and he holds Sotiris at fault. If I can find a way to amicably part ways with him, I will. I plan to do it as soon as possible."

  "Good, good."

  There, they stood in silence, neither wanting to say what had to come next. Gradually, Katya took that first step onto the Minerva's ramp before hesitating. "I'll be in touch."

  "I don't doubt it."

  He waved her toward the ship. By the time she had reached the top of the ramp, he'd already started the trek back to the camp and his research. Katya pressed her lips together while her whole chest ached. Then, bowing her head, she strode inside and initiated the hatch closing sequence. As it shut, a mantra ran through her head: Stick to the backwoods, stay alive. The hatch latched, and she turned on the balls of her feet. There was no time to waste on a past no longer feasible.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  With sinuous motions, Katya traveled through the stages of what amounted to a Gorgian dance. She visualized herself moving in sync with the holographic images. As she completed the next steps, the musky scent of fermented tea seeped into her. Follow through, turn—her knee connected with a tea crate.

  "Krezk!" Grunting and rubbing her knee, Katya hobbled over to another tea crate and sat. Already bruising. Terrific. She massaged the damaged tissue.

  When had she gotten so close to them? Ah, she'd miscounted. She'd been so lost in the movement of the dance that she'd failed to account for the eighty-some crates that the Minerva's cargo hold now contained; each crate emitted a smell akin to fungus and mold. Their employer had assured her that the tea was a delicacy, but after spending weeks with it stinking up her ship, she harbored little interest in trying it. Yet it couldn't be worse than the hesricht juice her father had forced her siblings and her to drink: Now that had tasted like swill.

  Katya brushed outs her sweat-lined hair with her fingers. It had gotten longer in the two months between Pestor and their latest shipment. A month spent training Mina with her weapon and treading carefully around Rein, but things had settled once more, threatening to breed complacency. Her story to Sotiris had continued, recounting harmless adventures for the princess and her steed, which had begun to resemble Pollux more than a horse.

  Reaching for her towel, she massaged her scalp, removing some of the excess sweat. Mina would undoubtedly want to cut it again. Going off the teen's late nights prowling the Net, she'd gathered quite the list of new styles to try out on Katya. It was tedious to be a lab rat. But without a clear idea of what she wanted, she didn't mind delegating the task to the teen. She only drew the line at having portions of her head shaved despite how fierce Mina proclaimed she'd look.

  Standing, Katya retrieved her water bottle and guzzled its cold contents. The exercise had some effect, though part of her believed Sotiris's lack of mental activity came more from boredom with her focus on the same repetitive motions, never straying from them. This hypothesis had shaped the stories she told him, keeping them bland, away from whatever portion of her brain they were triggering. The other hypothesis—her expression clouded—was that the sudden interruption and head trauma had resulted in long-lasting damage. Or maybe, as her father had gauged, Sotiris remained a waiting disaster.

  She draped the towel along her shoulders and climbed the ladder to the next level. She stepped off into the main hallway.

  "Is it working?"

  Katya turned to find Rein, who'd just exited his room, behind her. His gaze drifted down her frame, lingering on her sweaty tank that clung to her figure. She met it, jaw tightening. At least the towel concealed the girls. She ensured that was the case.

  His posture was looser than it had been in months. Their routine of shepherding lawful deliveries throughout the Fringe agreed with him. And now he even dared to broach the topic of Sotiris for the first time since Pestor.

  "It's hard to say," she said, choosing an honest answer. "He hasn't been as active. Whether it's because of my new routines or not . . . that remains to be seen." Katya took another sip from her water bottle, wiping excess liquid from her mouth. "Is she still running fine?"

  "She's a whole different beast than The Maelstrom." A genuine smile graced his face. "I find I've more time without a tool in my hands. We'll have no problem reaching Dandis VII by tomorrow. We've even been able to pull in the station's programming."

  "Anything interesting?"

  "I've been pulling in Magistrate news. There's been more activity with Plasovern attacking shipping routes in the Fringe. We'll have to be careful if we pick up more cargo on Dandis VII and choose to stick to the outskirts." Rein cleared his throat before he stepped closer to her. "There's been no mention of the Aletheia, The Maelstrom, or any of us. I even did some searches using the Net. They don't seem to be looking for us."

  "Appearances can be deceiving. You know that as well as I do." Katya faced the cockpit's door. "We've got to stay low."

  "Maybe we change our approach. Plasovern took our ship, held us hostage, stole the boy, and we managed to escape with him from Medzeci space."


  One of her eyebrows rose. "Maybe you can escape from Medzeci space. As for Mina and me, we aren't taking the chance they don't buy it."

  "It has to be all of us. If they capture you after I've already made contact, they'll know I lied."

  Sweat flipped from her hair as Katya shook her head. "I'm not going to the Magistrate. I'm not taking that chance with Mina's and Sotiris's lives. They're my responsibilities. I took Mina with me, and I don't take that responsibility lightly." The once-prized Oneiroi crew plagued her, their eyes open, shot through by executioners. If they couldn't receive a trial, what hope did a replaceable freighter crew have?

  "And where does that leave us?" His voice fluctuated. "Just moving cargo from one planet or station to the next?" He stepped closer, fingers twitching. "I know you can't be happy about this type of life. But you seem so willing to drop everything—everything you've ever worked for. What do we have to look forward to when we're constantly looking over our shoulders? Without a goal?"

  "Opportunities will present themselves," she said. "But for now, we're free and seeing new, exciting locales."

  He snorted. "That's one way to describe them."

  "Something will come along; we just have to wait for it."

  "Do you really believe that?"

  Katya kept her expression neutral, despite the pressure in her chest cavity. "I have to. I'm the captain."

  He digested her words, hand absently scratching his jaw's stubble.

  Turning away, Katya wiped the towel against her face.

  "You are a remarkable woman."

  She straightened and was certain the blood had drained from her face. "I don't think you fully appreciate what you're bringing on board with him." Valens's words—so easy dismissed as they’d huddled off to the side of The Maelstrom during their final goodbye—reemerged. She opened her mouth but couldn't find words.

  "I do car—"

  "Thank you for your kind words." She stepped closer to the cockpit. "Keep an eye on the engines. Let me know if anything's off."

  She retreated, leaving him alone in the hallway. She inhaled as she stepped into the cockpit, only releasing that breath when the doors closed behind her. Why else had he volunteered for a dinky, rust bucket freighter crew? She pulled the towel tight around her shoulders and sighed. Clutter had been spewed around the cockpit: toys, slates, jackets, and plates—some still having bits of food on them. Her right eye twitched.

  "The cockpit is not an extension of your quarters." Katya tossed one of the jackets, which had been obscuring the communications console, hitting Mina in the head with it.

  Mina grunted. She screwed her face—puckering her lips until she resembled a fish—as she balled up the jacket and placed it in her lap. The teen then resumed playing with Sotiris's legs, ignoring Katya as she sorted through the mess. The Oneiroi child tried to free his legs from Mina, who remained blissfully unaware of the practically non-attempts. He squeaked when Mina tugged one of his feet again. Even though he hated it, the forced daily exercise sparked a positive change beyond staving muscle deterioration: He exhibited more signs of wanting to interact with them while awake, as if a gear in his biology had been flipped the other way. Katya kicked aside an empty can. Another bonus—she smiled as more squawks followed—was the fear hanging over Mina's interactions with Sotiris had dwindled until forgotten. Though that was only true when he was awake and nothing more than a normal toddler.

  "I'm here practically all the time," Mina said, releasing her captive. "It only makes sense that a few things would make their way here."

  Katya tossed a few more articles of clothing at the girl. A shirt’s sleeve caught Sotiris's face as it sailed toward Mina. "And they can make their way back to where they belong." She stacked the plates. "We may not be a Magistrate vessel anymore, but I will have order in here. Imagine this"—she waved a plate in front of Mina's face—"hitting you in the head in the event of a blind jump, or during some evasive maneuvers. It wouldn't be pleasant. But then again, you might not even feel it, because you'd be dead." She deposited the plates in Mina's arms. "No plates in here. Take these back to the mess and get them washed. Once done, you can come get the rest of these things. I'm taking over in here."

  Mina grumbled, but she carted the plates away all the same. Katya, meanwhile, jumped between stations while continuing to dry off. More traffic dotted the screen of the navigation console, all registering as Magistrate. It was the closest to the hub of the Magistrate they'd come in a long time. Still located in the Fringe but with regular traffic. Almost Mezzo. Katya draped the towel over the pilot's chair and commandeered one of Mina's oversized sweatshirts. She sat as she maneuvered her arms through its sleeves.

  Unable to help herself, Katya reached over to the co-pilot's seat and tugged at Sotiris's foot. He rewarded her with something resembling a hiss. He also yanked his foot away, knocking his knee into the side of the toddler seat. His mouth kept moving with little sounds exiting it. He tried so hard to form words, but all that came out amounted to gibberish and odd sounds. Not surprising. Her father's research had stated that verbal skills developed much later for Oneiroi. He didn't pinpoint the exact age, however, leaving her to wonder if Sotiris was ahead or behind development-wise.

  Remembering Rein's words, Katya flipped on the extended com system and was greeted by blaring music. Mina, she groused, lowering the volume to a level where words could be made out—something about the female singer missing her love who had gone to work on a transport. She stuck her tongue out at Sotiris, who chortled. In the background, the singer crooned on, up until she switched the station.

  "Hey, everyone out here in the Belt," a deep voice rang over the cockpit's speakers. "We've got the latest in from the Core, plus some homebred talent, lined up. But first, Jace the Snore's goin' to get you caught up on the latest news."

  Katya snorted. "Jace the Snore. What podunk part of the galaxy have we found ourselves in?"

  "The magistrates have met in regards"—a new voice, a lethargic and monotone one, took over—"to the annexation of Verdra. After drought and civil unrest, the planet's ruling class has asked for Magistrate assistance. Meanwhile, in other sections of the galaxy, Plasovern is setting up strongholds, including on Ereago, where intense fighting has resulted in high casualties. Opposition factions threaten the capital city of Esh and have staged executions of Magistrate soldiers and regular citizenry alike. Brek forces are being brought in to quell the opposition—"

  "You heard that right, folks, no more Breks in the Dandis VII sector," the previous voice crowed. There was a loud splooshing sound, followed by a sputtering noise. "Sorry, out of time as always, Jace. For those new to our show or those who don't have the visual feed running, Jace has just had a tub of Horgi gluck dumped on him because he's a Jorgian and talks too slow." Then, over the sputters and coughs, the disc jockey continued, "Avoid lanes two and four if you know what I mean; they're crawlin' with bluebacks, and the waits are—" A farting sound effect took the place of words. "Now, how about the tunes you're cravin'!"

  Katya decreased the volume further as the wails of a stringed instrument blared through the cockpit, followed by the screams of someone who probably called themselves a singer. Sotiris jerked at the being's screeching. Unable to stand it herself, Katya scanned through the various stations attached to Dandis VII, along the way discovering several ship-operated stations that touched on a variety of topics from the innocuous—air time for smaller bands, probably their own, and the ramblings of Captain Jip—to the iniquitous and illegal—gambling, Magistrate troop positions, coded trafficking similar to what she'd seen on Reznic . . . The list went on. Dandis VII was proving to be a cauldron of interesting beings. Sure, every city, station, or planet had its underside; some were just festered more than others.

  "Are you listening to where Magistrate officials are stationed?" Mina asked upon reentering the cockpit.

  "Yes, I thought it might come in handy, but then again, one of the main stations already tipped me off th
at we don't visit lanes two or four."

  "Can they trace the station?" She then narrowed her eyes. "Is that my shirt?"

  "It was in the cockpit. It became a community shirt." Katya nudged another one of the sweatshirts toward the girl with her foot, but Mina failed to pick up the hint—or perhaps she chose to ignore it—and instead, she slumped into the chair by the communications console.

  "To answer your question, they can't trace where the signals are going," Katya said. "They can only trace the source; however, the signal's probably routed via many mirrors, making it hard to retrace it to its origin." She wormed her foot under the sweatshirt before catapulting it over to Mina. The girl caught it. "Dandis VII seems to have a light Magistrate presence, especially since its Breks were called to Ereago." She changed the frequency to one with music.

  Mina narrowed her lips. "Breks . . . wasn't that the species that was going to fry us?"

  "So far, we're having tons of good luck."

  "But if they'd been here, while we were—"

  "But they aren't."

  Mina toyed with the sleeve of the sweatshirt. "What about . . . well, what the doctor said."

  Katya shook her head. "If they, whoever they are, find us, we'll deal with it. Have you been doing as I asked?"

  Dropping the sleeve, Mina rested at her hand against her chest, where her stun gun had been concealed under her clothes, and nodded.

  The male vocalist filled the cockpit as he sang in a rich baritone voice about leaving his homeworld. A full band backed him up. He'd launched into the third verse by the time Mina cleared her throat and asked, "Are you afraid of anything?"

  A lot of things. Instead, Katya wet her lips and said, "That we'll be caught . . . that your future will forever be shaped by my decision, that—" Katya glanced at Sotiris, who slumbered. She reversed course, unable to voice that particular fear. "But I can't focus on those. I can't even begin to imagine the future five minutes from now, which is frightening enough."