Heritage Lost

by S M Wright

  "Don't kill them!" one metallic voice shouted. "The boy can't be injured."

  Hisses, grunts, guttural noises answered. The blood fled from Katya's face as the Jar'rask overtook them and descended from the buildings. Mina yelped and started to backpedal, a would-be fatal mistake at this point. Katya caught her arm with her free hand and pressed her forward. Their feet pounded against the pathway's metal surface, much like her heart did in its cage. An acidic flavor assaulted her taste buds. She should have capped him, pulled the trigger—damn it! Why hadn't she better heeded her father's warning? Duty. He was one of her men. And she was paying for it now. Mina hiccupped, her sobs growing more pronounced.

  Flinching, Katya released the interior of her mouth, which she hadn't realized she'd been biting. She fired a few more volleys, preventing the Jar'rask from sinking into them, before turning her pistol on a door to blast its mechanism. Kicking it open, Katya dragged Mina in after her. Not the dead end she'd feared it would be, she guided Mina through what amounted to a derelict apartment building.

  "Run! This way!" Katya waved toward one hallway.

  They took off seeking an exit, with Katya swinging around from time to time to lay down fire. Hard to do when her targets were little more than specters. She tried to keep a low profile to protect Sotiris. Their pursuers didn't want to harm him, but accidental fire didn't discriminate.

  She coughed. Her lungs burned unused to this level of exertion. She'd been on a ship for far too long.

  She stepped over a long metal rod that'd been dumped in the hall. Litter was scattered across the floors. Mina almost tripped on a black plastic bag but caught her balance before she went down. A door off to the side of them opened but shut when Katya fired another round behind them. The Jar'rasks never fired back, but they didn't fall back either. Given another scenario, Katya would've marveled at their reflexes and ability to avoid her shots . . . if she hadn't been their prey.

  Sotiris remained pliable and asleep. A small blessing.

  "Mina, right!" They needed to get out before they were torn apart. Crowds in a busy street could disguise them and serve as roadblocks against their pursuers. The Jar'rasks would be unwilling to risk collateral damage. They ran through the hallway on the right, then zigzagged down another where Katya flipped a random cart behind them. She couldn't see them, but their clawed feet scraped against the metal. Out of breath, Katya and Mina found another door to the outside and took it. It opened to a crowded main street, though not the same one they'd been on. Katya brushed past a woman and her children. She held the blanket over Sotiris as they weaved through the crowd. Mina stayed close at her heels, her feet heavier, slowing.

  "Keep running!" Katya shouted. Mina coughed and stuttered out something unintelligible.

  At some point in their mad dash, the Jar'rasks had disappeared. Katya panted and swiveled around on the balls of her feet. Nowhere. At some point, they'd dropped from the chase.

  "We lost them?" A wide-eyed expression filled Mina's face. Somewhere along the way, the teen had lost her scarf and garnet hair now stood up, disheveled.

  The life-forms around them shuffled by undisturbed. Stands set up along the street continued business. A group of children kicked a can down the length of the street, their chortles and taunts blossoming as they went.

  Katya's lips formed a narrow line. The Elites had given up their chase while they were still in the apartment complex. Removing the glasses from her face, Katya tossed them to the ground, where they joined the rest of the worthless trash. There was no way around the inevitable. She shut her eyes. They had a ship but were now lost. And even if they weren't, their new ship was a Sparrow. The Elites would have the best of the best, something that would outmaneuver them, much like the Jar'rasks themselves. Next to her, Mina panted and heaved as she sank to the ground and rested her head between her knees. They couldn't outrun them. Hiding had become their only option, if it was even viable.

  "Get up." Katya slid her pistol into its holster. "Let's keep walking."

  "B-but the ship's that way!" Mina pointed toward the way they had come. "I think."

  "So are Jar'rasks." She extended her hand to Mina and helped her to her feet. "We need to keep going where they aren't. We might be able to double back around . . . find our bearings."

  Katya led the way to some destination, one even she didn't know. Mina wheezed behind her, so she slowed her pace further. There was no urgency in her steps, not anymore. Sotiris grew heavier with each footfall. Her stomach tightened. Soon he'd discover the fate of the other Oneiroi children.

  "Katya," Mina said, gripping her arm. " . . . I can't go any farther."

  Mina's normal copper tone had gone pallid as if she were sick; the sweat lining her brow only enhanced that appearance. Katya spotted an alley and took Mina to it. Garbage filled it, leaving very little ground exposed. The overflowing bins hadn't been cleaned out for weeks by the smell of them. Mina kneeled down, trying not to touch anything while Katya paced. Adrenaline still flowed quite readily through her veins, demanding action. Avenues passed through her mind, ways out . . . only her ideas proved no more solid than smoke, seeping through her fingers. Her training filtered through—not good enough. Her tongue clicked against her teeth.

  "What's going to happen to us?" Mina's eyes pleaded for Katya to do something, anything to save them from this situation.

  When you meet an obstacle, what then? The words, in Lieutenant Pinarius's harsh tone, filtered through her head, a holdover embedded in it from the academy. Katya turned away. "What do you do then?" Her training screamed at her—demanded action, demanded that she act like an officer. Only she couldn't bring herself to give Mina a curt order to stay alert and dismiss the question altogether.

  "It doesn't look good," Katya settled on.

  On the nearby street, a man on a bicycle careened by, pinging his bell to warn pedestrians.

  Katya brushed aside her sweat-coated bangs. "Our best hope is to get lost on-world, maybe eventually work our way back to the ship, maybe after a month or two."

  "But?"

  Too clever. The girl had always been that.

  Moistening her lips, Katya told the truth. "Jar'rasks are keen trackers. It'll be hard to get lost, especially with the presence of drones. To be honest, I'm surprised they aren't on top of us now. Given their reputation, I'd have thought they'd keep up the chase. That they haven't . . . I think that speaks to their confidence."

  Mina stood, though her gaze remained on the ground. "If we give them Sotiris, maybe they'll let us get lost on-world. We'd be fine; we've survived Reznic . . ."

  Katya blinked, the weight against her chest resembling a rock. "I doubt that. Strom explained our predicament quite thoroughly." Her hand touched the pocket where the communicator rested. There would be Plasovern agents on Jordah; they could extract them. "What we know about the Aletheia . . . they can't risk that getting out."

  "How can you be certain—"

  "I spoke with Hedda Strom, remember?" Katya scrunched her lips together before smiling without a trace of mirth. "She erased any doubt that the Magistrate destroyed the Aletheia and everyone on board it themselves."

  Katya frowned when Sotiris jerked awake, yelping as if he'd been shocked. She freed him from the carrier and was met by his unfocused blue eyes. Then he blinked and shook, sweat crawling down his brow.

  "What's—" Pain seared her mind. Similar . . . She buckled as Mina collapsed to the grime-covered ground. Wincing, Katya caught Sotiris's gaze, still wide, unseeing, sweat . . . or tears? She couldn't stave it off. Fighting the pull, Katya fumbled to get the keycard and communicator into a pocket on Sotiris's pants before she fell the rest of the way. Her remaining energy dedicated to gathering enough control over her body so she wouldn't crush him. Similar, but not the same. Her mind repeated the phrase, tried to pull sense from it. Impossible. Her brain processes ended when she succumbed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Akakios toweled himself off as he stepped from his showe
r, relieved to be free of sweat. He'd lost track of how many pushups he'd completed. They'd simply been an activity to disperse pent-up energy. To momentarily distract from the fact they were anchored in space with no destination. A waiting game. And they were playing it blind. He ruffled the towel against his head, drying his hair by a fraction. The mirror highlighted the dark rings that had formed under his eyes. Too much tossing and turning. He hung the towel on its hook. As he slid on his uniform, his limbs burned from his previous exertion. The muscles beneath, however, still bristled, demanding action.

  Reentering his main room, which had long surrendered to the mess, Akakios further aired his damp hair using his fingers. He stepped on a useless dossier, its papers and photographs scattering and joining pieces of clothing he'd discarded. A few slates were also dispersed in odd places about the room: his bed, among the clothes, on his trunk . . . and who knew where else he'd set them. He'd once prided himself in keeping his quarters pristine, but now he let order molder.

  Idle exercise. That was all he'd been able accomplish in days. Charis, try as she might, had only scrounged up random bits of information about Strom and her potential whereabouts. Nothing concrete. And so their days of inactivity stretched on. Fastening his uniform's belt, Akakios returned to the bridge, ready for more of the same.

  As he walked, Elpis greeted him with a salute. "Captain, I need a word with you." Her face was placid, though her chin jutted out.

  "Walk with me."

  They fell into step along the catwalk, a slow pace, drudgery really. Elpis's throat visibly tightened when she swallowed, not looking at him.

  "We've been drifting for days now. Where are we going?"

  "To be determined." Her nostrils flared at this answer. "But that's not what you have on your mind, is it?"

  "I'm concerned about my commanding officer's well-being." Elpis cast a sideward glance at him. "We do seem to be approaching a definite conclusion. And—"

  Akakios grunted and faced Elpis. "I'll be fine. I've made my peace on that matter since the day he was born."

  "That was before you lost Amyntas and Kallistrate." Elpis pressed her lips together, her pale skin seeming to take an even lighter shade in the purple-hued light. "My parents were never the same after my older brother was . . . had passed. I don't remember him well; there was a sizeable gap between us—but that's beside the point. It changed them. They wallowed in their grief, let it gnaw on them, turn them down avenues they shouldn't—"

  "I won't," he said more sharply than he'd intended. "If that's all, I need to see if there is any new information."

  Her lips twitched. "We seldom see the signs to the avenues we turn onto until we're well down them, sir. Some never do . . . even when others hold mirrors." She swiveled back the way they'd come, heading toward the medbay. "We're here for you, sir. You needn't be alone."

  Akakios blinked, moisture forming though never fully materializing. "The thought is appreciated."

  Her steps continued on the metal catwalk after a brief pause, and Akakios carried on to the bridge.

  Only Charis and Kyrillos worked at their consoles. The ship had been left to the autopilot to drift and wait for a more concrete destination. Charis rose to her feet upon his entrance. "More rumors have pinpointed Strom to this sector."

  "Rumors . . . do you have anything better?"

  "They are exceptionally good rumors, sir." Charis smiled. The blackish-purple skin under her eyes hinted toward another shortened sleep cycle. "The type that are spread by Plasovern sympathizers trying to procure meetings with her. A user, kkkLN34721, is responding to some; he might be a go-between. He's hinting that meetings in the Reello system are possible. It's coming from Intortus." She smirked, reading some cue on his face. "You told me you wanted me to dig, so I have . . . through waves of encryption and backrooms."

  "What planets and posts are in that system?"

  "Reello, Station R-20, Jordah, Station K-40, Magistrate Organizational Post 450, and Barsaa are the only ones comfortable for oxygen breathers." Charis launched the large star map and displayed the system.

  "Have there been any hits on the Minerva?"

  "None, but a lot of the planets in this system are considered partial primitives and don't have Magistrate relays, sir."

  Akakios leaned in, taking mental notes of the system. The crew with Sotiris had perhaps more luck than he'd thought even possible, if they had survived the jump and made it to one of the planets. To arrive at a sector with planets that didn't have Magistrate relays . . . but it was also a double-edged victory. If their ship had been badly damaged—and after viewing footage from the peace officers' vessels, he believed it was—the odds of them finding a replacement were nil. The biggest planets population-wise were Reello and Jordah, both of which had Magistrate relays and thousands of Magistrate soldiers; however, if the Minerva had been dumped, none of that would matter: They could pass right under the Magistrate's nose without their marked ship. He exhaled. And back to square one.

  "Are there cameras that we could check?"

  "On Jordah, yes. But it'd take days to bypass the security without the keycode, and that is not even factoring in the time necessary to filter through past and current data." Charis rested her hands behind her back. "It's a huge planet, sir, heavily populated, probably with cameras well past the thousands."

  "It's not practical."

  "It's not." Charis gestured to the smaller planets on the map. "The other planets do not have such refined or widespread surveillance systems; most would be installed in stores or ports. They would be closed systems, not uploaded in any way to the Net, so they are out of the question. However, the stations . . . those might be the best option. It'll take time, but it's more realistic."

  "Start it."

  Akakios approached Kyrillos. "Anything interesting on the lines?"

  "Nothing new, no inquiries from Command."

  "What about on the other Elite stations?" The Magistrate, after all, would not leave them to hunt alone, even if they hadn't mentioned others were moving with the same purpose. But it would be a task only entrusted to Elites. "Anything interesting?"

  "Like us, they all use their own languages, leaving Command's special translators to untangle the messages." Kryillos adjusted something on his console. "I can only understand what's in Magistrate or coded. Certain codes."

  Akakios waved his hand dismissively. "But have there been more transmissions in this sector?"

  "I'll monitor."

  Akakios clapped him on the back before returning to the star map. "Where's Ambrosios?"

  "Do you really have to ask what he's going to do with downtime?" Teeth peeked out between Kyrillos's lips.

  "More monitoring," Charis barked at Kyrillos. "He's with Chrysanthos; I believe they are completing diagnosis on the engines."

  "Diagnosis." Kyrillos chuckled.

  "Sir, I've broken into Station R-20's cameras. I'm using the facial scanner to comb their records starting from the day after their escape from Dandis VII, to be safe."

 

  She lifted a brow.

  Akakios activated the intercom. "Ambrosios, senior officers meeting."

  "We're within our operating parameters for our search." Charis now gave him her full attention, leaving the facial scanner as she rose to her feet.

 

  Charis rested her hands on her hips.

  He bowed his head to her in contrition.

  Ambrosios arrived within a few minutes, suggesting that Charis's assertion had been the correct one. "Engines are running smoothly, and the new part is working well," he said. "So, what's happened?"

  "We've hacked into R-20's cameras with the facial scanner," Akakios answered as Charis resumed monitoring the tech. "The facial scanner's use is probably being mo
nitored. We'll need to move fast to secure them." His earlier thought voiced only to Charis went unspoken.

  Ambrosios folded his arms across his chest and sank back into his seat. "Come on, Captain, what do you know? Yes, you want Sotiris out of harm's way . . . and you want to know what happened on the Aletheia, but I think you already suspect some sort of truth."

  "I won't speculate." Akakios pinched the bridge of his nose, his mouth setting into a grim line. If it was true, if they had . . . he'd bury it. His jaw clenched. His brother would not be remembered as a traitor.

  "Sir." Charis prevented Ambrosios from continuing his verbal prying. Her fingers glided across her console, and on the viewscreen, a video appeared. "I've got them."

  In the video, the woman from Dandis VII walked with Sotiris and the girl. The male target said something before wandering off on his own. The man's image caused Akakios's throat to constrict. He'd injured his nephew. The thought of Sotiris being thrown brought his blood to a boil, narrowing his vision even. The woman and the girl walked out of the camera's range. The viewscreen went blank before Charis launched another camera. The woman handed Sotiris to the girl and then left. The feed of the girl and Sotiris advanced, consisting of her placing the bags in manner that amounted to a temporary bed and taking a catnap. The woman did not return for quite some time; the man arrived at the makeshift camp before leaving again.

  "This was taken two days ago," Charis said. "It appears they took a transport. I should be able to get into the system and find out what transport they boarded and where it was going."

  "Where did the woman go?"

  The feed disappeared as Charis rolled back the clock and jumped between cameras. Finally, they landed on a feed that showed the woman entering a bar. There was a long pause until his second officer tapped into the establishment's feed, a static mess. The proprietor had purchased a cheap surveillance system. The lines kept cropping up. Despite that, they could make out the woman sitting at a table, barely in the frame. Minutes passed, and she was joined by another woman who had come from the bar area. Her back was to the camera, conveniently hiding her identity. At times, the camera feed disintegrated, obscuring all images before returning to its poor quality.