Heritage Lost

by S M Wright

  Satisfied, Katya strode to the bar. She didn't bother with its name or any of its blaring neon signs, which were written in an alien tongue. As long as they were well stocked, she didn't care. Her muddled vision welcomed the bar's ill-lit interior, a fitting touch for such an establishment.

  Music played over a speaker system, more quietly than similar joints Katya had visited. She maneuvered around tables that filled its narrow space, opting for a raised one in a corner not far from the door. Situating herself into the chair, she covered her face with her hands, as if she could will her pain away. A Tandelalay moon. That is what she wanted. On Reznic, the midnight blue drink had dulled many a headache and taken the edge off plenty of her days. Valens had laughed at the overly fruity drink, not that he had much room with his guilty pleasure: the sickeningly sweet, syrupy mess known as a Dergo sunset. They all carried their guilty pleasures, and the Tandelalay moon was one of the few that could make her an alcoholic.

  Rubbing her face, Katya waited for the barkeep to come and take her order. Somewhere, a broadcast played, a local one with talks about the neighboring gas giant's conditions. Shortly after the report finished, it cycled to regional news with a segment covering overall Magistrate news. Esh . . . bombs, casualties, Plasovern—

  Two drinks were slammed down onto the table, the one directly in front her sloshing its amber liquid onto the table.

  "Mind if I join you?" The woman in her forties drawled, her accent entrancing. She cocked a smile while resting her hand on her hip, which jaunted out, putting all her curves on display. Before Katya responded, the woman slid into the seat across from her and drank heavily from her own mug. "Don't worry; I didn't drug yours if that's what you're thinking. Coming from one woman to another, you looked like you needed one, love." Her breasts rested on the table when she leaned forward.

  "I'm not interested in making a connection." Katya left the drink in front of her untouched.

  "Oh my, all business, huh?" The woman lifted her drink, an ale of sorts; her other arm draped over her chair's back. "Let me guess—I love this game by the way—you're a freighter captain. On the outs of it, I'd say, given you're without a ship. So, you've had troubles between jumping from one dustball to the next. Am I close?"

  Katya narrowed her eyes at the wink the woman gave her. "Lovely," she muttered before swallowing some of her drink, a mixed concoction new to her. It hit her strong, burning her throat and warming her chest.

  "It's your turn now, dearie." When Katya only took another sip, the woman laughed, throaty and melodic all at once. "You're just no fun, but I can't blame you given your situation. Let's try this again."

  A tightening sensation formed in Katya's chest, either from the alcohol or the unwanted presence across from her. She'd place money on the latter. She almost asked the woman to leave but stopped when the other's stein hit the table with a solid thud.

  "Yes, let's get honest. You're Magistrate, an officer. Or you were until you deserted." Her smile, resembling a predator, returned when Katya stiffened. "Now, that gets your attention. You're not hopping planets. You're running."

  While her hand strayed to her firearm, Katya forced herself to center her breathing and present an air of neutrality. "Who are you?"

  Around them, the bar's few patrons nursed their drinks, talked, or crowded around the bar's holoscreens, which displayed different sports and, in one case, news. A couple held flexiscreens, or scrolls, in front of themselves as they drank.

  The woman gulped her ale. As she wiped the froth from her upper lip, she chuckled. "The resemblance in personality really is remarkable. Both of you so"—she put emphasis on the word—"serious. Though, she had a sense of fun to her. I actually met her in a place not too unlike this joint. Welcomed the atmosphere, she'd said. She was willing to play, but I think she was largely amused that a mouse dared to play with a cat. Only, in this situation, I'm afraid you're the mouse."

  Katya gripped the butt of her pistol, tugging it slightly out of holster. "Heh. Even mice can be deadly."

  "I don't doubt it, but I'm not the cat you have to fear. The Magistrate, however . . ." The blonde shrugged.

  She didn't release her grip. "Who are you?"

  "Me?" The smile grew. "Some call me Storm, but really that's just a bastardization of my name. To be more specific, I'm Hedda Strom."

  Katya cursed, her weapon all but forgotten as she rocked onto her feet. Her sudden reaction didn't even cause the other patrons to bat an eye. Ten total, plus the bartender. Did they all want to mind their own business, or were they in on it? Then there was Strom herself. She had to have come from somewhere, and she certainly hadn't entered the establishment behind Katya. A door in the back of the bar area was her only possible entry point.

  "Please have a seat," Strom said. "I have information that you'll doubtlessly find . . . enlightening."

  She hesitated to follow the suggestion. Sitting would make things worse, suggesting an affiliation with Plasovern, something already being propagated in the Magistrate. Her thoughts drifted to the newsfeeds about the organization. A sour taste filled her mouth, and she couldn't shake the thought that if she were still wearing Magistrate blue, she'd be dead. Yet if the patrons were actually there on Strom's behalf . . . She eased back into her seat.

  "Information?" she said, to hint that her curiosity had been tickled. Not that she suspected more Plasovern agents in the room.

  "With your similarities, I'm not surprised he latched onto you like a vermond piglet. Your mind's similar enough to his mother's to make him feel safe."

  Katya's face burned. "What do you—"

  "Know?" Strom finished and gestured to Katya's still quite full drink. "More than you."

  Katya took a swig of her cocktail, welcoming the temporary erosion of her headache. Once the liquid went down, she cleared her throat. "You appear to have me at a great disadvantage. What's this information you're dangling about?" This time she sipped from her drink in a more measured fashion. She needed a clear head.

  "It starts and ends with the Aletheia." Strom pushed aside her empty drink and gestured to the barkeep for another round. "We were rendezvousing with them that day; only, as you know, it never happened. The Breks interfered, eliminating the Oneiroi and taking a few prizes. When they caught our presence, we had to run."

  "Why would they rendezvous with you?"

  Strom brushed a strand of hair from her face. "We were going to escort them into Medzeci space."

  Katya opened her mouth; however, she couldn't form words. Escort them? Why would they willingly enter the Medzeci Empire? The barkeep interrupted further thought when he brought over two new drinks. With a few words, the man sauntered back to the bar, leaving the two of them alone again. Strom lifted her ale, relishing its amber liquid as if she hadn't just dropped what amounted to a bomb. Strom waited for her to bite, to be reeled in. Katya ground her teeth together; she hated being played.

  "What would entice an entire Magistrate warship to do that?"

  "Truth."

  She should have known the tango wouldn't end so easily, and with that, she downed more of her drink. It smothered the growing pain, similar to a nine-inch nail being driven into her skull. Katya thwacked her glass onto the table. Straightening, she lurched to the side, tempted to leave rather than further the conversation.

  "The truth is," Strom said, fixing Katya in place, "the Magistrate has the defect down to a science."

  Strom reached into a satchel that hung off her hip and removed a slate, which she activated. After several seconds of moving her finger across its screen, she arrived at whatever she sought and nudged the device across the tabletop. Katya frowned at it and, after a long moment, pulled it over the rest of the way. The screen presented sequences in two different charts. She glanced at Strom and then back at the screen.

  "What am I looking at?"

  "These took some effort to procure. To this day, I'm still amazed at our good fortune. I showed them to Kallistrate, Sotiris's mother." Strom
pointed to the first graph. "No defect. And at a following Magistrate checkup, her son has the defect. They altered him during Kallistrate's prenatal appointments."

  Katya blinked, imagining the sorrow at a future robbed; it'd be followed by a cold rage . . . enough of one to change allegiance. "What did you have to gain from sharing this information with her?"

  "I have no love for the Magistrate, an understatement I assure you. But I do pity the Oneiroi, being leashed, altered further to an unknown conclusion." She sipped her ale. "Besides"—she set aside the mug—"we had something to gain: the Oneiroi off the front lines. It was important enough to take all manner of risks."

  Silence lingered between them, Katya trying to digest all the information. Strom—she had no idea what the woman was thinking. Finishing her drink, Katya found herself thinking of her father's bottle of Vergian whiskey and how it would hit the spot right now. Despite that, she didn't touch the second drink in front of her.

  "What were they hoping to find in Medzeci space?"

  "I offered Kallistrate a chance to give her son normalcy, in addition to her people's other affected children."

  "A cure—"

  "No, normalcy. Sotiris can't be cured; his genes have been altered, and that just can't be reversed." Strom reclaimed her slate, powering it off and placing it into her satchel. "Kallistrate, her husband, and the rest were willing to try another avenue, and from there, determine what their masters had done to the rest, even if they had to tear the Magistrate apart to do that. First, however, they needed something viable to present to their council, an alternative to Magistrate fealty."

  "This treatment, then, does it currently exist, or is it hypothetical?"

  "We needed a patient with the defect, but even so, we are certain it is more than hypothetical." Strom leaned closer to her. "And that is why I'm extending the same offer that I gave Kallistrate to you."

  "First, how did you find us? How did you know we had him?"

  "Jia alerted us that Sotiris was still alive, to our relief; though, with the Magistrate's search for the Aletheia's 'cargo,' we already had our suspicions, and our agents were vigilant. Then Zahkar—don't judge him too harshly—provided visual confirmation that you still had him. I joined you on the transport on Barsaa, and here we are now."

  "And here we are." Without thought, Katya tapped her fingers against her leg. Normalcy . . . however, at what price? Her thoughts drifted to the Aletheia, the woman on the bridge. It'd been a risk she'd been willing to take for her son, but . . . "I can't forget the atrocities you and Plasovern have committed."

  "And what about the Magistrate? It certainly doesn't have a lily-white record: annexing neighboring planets and subjugating those that wouldn't join the fold." Strom spat off to the side. "I have witnessed nothing as sickening as brave people being trampled and made to cower underneath the Magistrate's boots. They're an empire in all but name."

  Retorts flew to Katya's tongue, but she controlled them. From Strom's posture, it'd be akin to arguing with a wall, potentially leading to a full-out verbal spar. The woman across from her was well stuck in her ways, shaped by life much like Katya had been. And there was no defending everything the Magistrate had done through its long existence, which had begun in blood. However, the collection of planets had matured, and Katya remained proud of her service. At least the Magistrate wasn't using bombs and shattering so many lives for a reckless cause.

  "At one time, yes." Katya kept her tone low, neutral. "But I have no desire to debate the merits and shortcomings of the Magistrate." Katya rose to her feet. "I need to be getting back. We have a connecting ship to catch."

  "You amaze me." Strom finished her drink and burped. "They've really done a number on you. Even after what you've seen, you still cling to them. I've read a file on you—a basic Magistrate file, so don't look as if I've violated your privacy—they remade you as they saw fit. They tore apart your world. Really, you are not much different from Sotiris, only your parents are probably ali—"

  "Enough!" Katya swiped her hand down, hitting the table and skimming against her empty glass. It toppled off the surface and shattered on the floor. Katya struggled to stop herself from shaking. "I've had enough of this. Stay away from us, because I'm not turning him over to you."

  Strom caught her arm before she could pull away from the table. Her fingers pressed into her arm. "And what is your plan? He's losing muscle mass. Continuing as you are will be a death sentence for him. Kallistrate—she could have maintained a decent quality of life for him; you, you will be swallowed alive. The end you'll lead him to is the one she feared. Do—"

  "I'll find a way that doesn't involve you or Plasovern." Katya broke the other woman's grip. "Thanks for the drink."

  She met further resistance when Strom latched onto her again, this time by the hand. Before Katya could react, the other woman pressed a small rectangular device into the palm she held.

  "Keep it," Strom said, all vehemence gone from her voice. "If you don't find that alternative way, call us . . . for Sotiris's sake."

  Strom wrapped Katya's fingers around the communications device and then released her. Katya blinked. The device might as well have burned given her haste to deposit it in her pocket. Stumbling backward, she exited the bar, more than ready to be back with Mina and Sotiris, but she didn't make it far.

  Red in the face, Rein dragged her to an empty side corridor, his fingers digging into her skin, bruising and scratching her. All her complaints and attempts to break free went ignored. His large hands kept her in tow. Isolated, he shoved her into a nearby wall; his hands squeezed her wrists, pinning her in place.

  "What are you—"

  "So we've thrown our chips in with Plasovern now?" His tone was uneven and pinched, similar to his face.

  Katya strained against his grip, but it remained vice-like, and he had her at such an angle that freeing her hands was not an option. So she made one. Katya jammed her knee into his gut. The hold on her disappeared as Rein doubled over and gasped for air.

  "Get a grip on yourself!" Katya freed her pistol and directed it at Rein. "She sought me out, not the other way around. And I told her I'm not interested."

  Scarlet in the face, Rein struggled for breath. His body shuddered as he glared up at her, his eyes smoldering with hatred and bile.

  "Yet you took it." He wiped away spit that had pooled over his lips.

  "Without the intention of using it."

  "Then why take it?!" The words echoed far past them.

  Why hadn't she thrown the communications device back at Hedda, or let it fall to the ground? Instead, she'd secured it in her pocket, ready for use. She could easily toss it aside now to appease Rein, but she didn't open her pocket. He remained on the floor, not moving with the pistol trained on him. The same condemning expression lingered on his face.

  Clearing her throat, she lowered her weapon but didn't return it to the holster. "I'm covering my bases." Her bangs hung in her eyes, but she refused release her service pistol. "Beyond that, I really can't say; everything's been turned upside down. I-I don't know where to go anymore."

  She swallowed, the lump in her throat painfully moving. "I don't trust Plasovern, and I don't trust Strom any farther than I could throw her. I've no idea if I'll keep this device or toss it in the trash. But that's my choice, not yours. You only get to make your own decisions. And you most certainly don't get to touch me in such a manner."

  "If you would just listen—"

  "Listen to what?! You're trapped in a past where we are Magistrate officers. Where we didn't have to worry about—about all this! We can't stay in Magistrate space, but we can't cross over either." Her mouth contorted. Her throat was so parched while she spoke for Rein, herself. "Because at least Magistrate space still has some semblance of a democracy, civility . . ." Home. They were both trapped. She blinked away moisture as she stood, shoulders shaking. A line needed crossed, but she was still just as confined.

  Katya jerked to the side, lifting her
firearm. "Stay back."

  Rein was closer now—close enough his heavy breath brushed against her skin. His outreached hands remained suspended in air despite the weapon pointed at him; however, it did hold him at bay.

  "We're at an impasse, Rein. You have your wants, and they are not congruent with mine and Mina's. We need to go our separate ways before something regrettable happens." Part of her wanted to say it had already happened, had happened months ago after Rein had harmed Sotiris. But that would only serve as a flashpoint for the man.

  His mouth formed a thin line, and the lump in his throat quivered. "I loved you! If you weren't still hung up on a dead man, you'd see—"

  "You know nothing!" Her grip tightened on the firearm until her knuckles locked painfully. "Colonel Ulpius has nothing to do with any of this. I've never, in any manner, reciprocated any of your feelings." She licked her chapped lips. "We're two very different people, and I don't think you really see me as I am. And . . . I've never been one for those types of feelings. Ulpius was a fluke. He and I . . . we fell into step together." Her chest tightened. "After this flight, we need to go our separate ways. For both our sakes. I'll give you your share of the profits, but this is for the best."

  He bowed his head. After several moments, she retreated, heading for Mina and Sotiris, internally counting down the minutes until they could board their transport to Jordah. And as she went, she cast backward glances, hand never straying far from the holstered pistol.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  "Are you sure?" Rein asked, his tone flat and lacking any of the anger from the previous evening.

  They'd been like vessels passing in the night on the transport—neither speaking, providing ample distance, lest the other fire shots. He'd brooded the whole time, his hunched back facing Mina and Katya. He'd only left that position to use the facilities. Now, his current void of emotion set her stomach on edge.

  "It wouldn't be a bother for me to come and help you find your next transport or ship." He swapped his pack's strap to his other shoulder.