Heritage Lost

by S M Wright

  Wincing, Katya relaxed her hand, which she couldn't recall having tightened into a fist. "I'd"—she winced—"be careful trusting the Magistrate. Elites can be just as expendable."

  "Baash!" The noise rumbling through the implant resembled humanoid laughter, only off kilter. "Why should I care?" He—or so Katya assumed—lapped at his own snout. "A well-earned end is a well-earned end; nothing is more fitting for traitors. As far as if it happened to us"—he tilted his head toward his two companions, hissing and flashing their teeth at each other—"we'd move on."

  He chuckled his odd mechanical sound as one snapped at the other with its jagged, razor-like teeth; his slanted eyes followed each motion the pair made with a cold interest that bordered on predatory. "The Magistrate has forced this cooperative effort on us. And who knows, maybe one day we'll be forced to evolve into a species that can actually stand being in each other's company without wanting to kill each other."

  The Jar'rask bared his teeth, the action resembling a grin. Something rattled on the cart.

  "But that still belongs to the future." He lifted a device, his clawed hand holding it up against the bright light. Katya's breath caught in her throat. A laser cutter, powerful enough to cut through certain thicknesses of metal. It would cauterize as it cut, so at least she wouldn't bleed out. But it'd do nothing to dull the pain. "But don't worry. There's still more time to play, and we have a certain reputation as hosts." His claw tapped against the implant, his pointed teeth grinding together. "I enjoy this type of talking. I've found it serves to heighten my subjects' fear . . . they give off the most delectable scents."

  Katya howled when the current returned, ripping through her body. She pounded her head against the table out of compulsion. By the time the current stopped, she could not feel her limbs. She swallowed hard, tears flowing down her face. Was Mina undergoing the same amount of torment or worse? Had she pulled the girl off Reznic for this end? Her eyelids opened and closed rapidly against the tears. And Sotiris . . . what fate awaited him in the loving embrace of the Magistrate? Locked to the table, Katya's muscles convulsed. All her best intentions . . . she'd failed them.

  "Are you almost at your limit?" The click of a button followed and then a different hissing upon the laser cutter's activation. "Pity."

  She bit her lip, trying to prevent herself from whimpering.

  "Don't worry. You'll survive this, unless you go into shock. If you do that, I'm afraid we don't have the technology to bring a humanoid out. We know this by experience . . . sad story, I assure you."

  The other two Jar'rasks drew closer, tongues swiping through the air and flicking across their snouts. Katya flinched and squeezed her eyes shut, though she couldn't stop herself from envisioning the two eating her newly discarded limb. A jolt went through her body, sending her into another spasm. When it stopped, the cutting device inched forward. Katya steeled herself, preparing for the eventual cut.

  "Gagh—gagh, gagh!"

  Her eyes shot open. A trail of red trickled from her torturer's nose, dropping onto her arm. He gasped out hisses and let out some gargled noises before hitting the Jar'rask next to him, pointing toward the door like a man on fire. The other merely dropped, blood dripping from its nose. Seeing this, the third Jar'rask bolted for the door. By the time he reached it, her torturer slumped to the floor, sputtering and twitching. Katya, eyes wide, watched his chest go motionless. The image of a Brek superimposed itself over the face of the Jar'rask.

  Katya gaped at the scene, light-headed and breathless. Blood pooled around them. A sick fascination crept over her—or perhaps disbelief—as the bright scarlet liquid trickled across the ship's metal floor. Shuddering, she broke from the trance.

  He'd killed them. Sotiris had killed them: the Jar'rasks, the Breks. Tears swelled again despite her eyelids flickering to block them. On the Aletheia, he'd felt his mother's brain waves break apart, and he'd lashed out at the ones who'd robbed him of them, of her. Just as he'd felt her pain and reacted to prevent the same sensation, the same loss from occurring again. She wondered if the third had made it to where Sotiris was being kept or not.

  Clicking her tongue against her teeth, Katya lifted her head, pressing forward against pain. Focus. Mina and Sotiris. She needed to get to them, and there was only one way. Steadying herself, Katya contorted her right hand. One, two, three! She yanked downward, the metal cutting into her skin. Hissing, she ceased the action to gather herself. Then she tugged again, willing her bones to give way so she could pull that hand free. She growled and strained against the restraint. Pop! Katya screamed, hissing as her limbs shook. Batting away tears, she groped the tray that the Jar'rask had rolled over. Her hand found a sharp instrument, which she struggled to grip with her damaged hand.

  "Heh!" She stuttered, air escaping her lungs when the instrument clinked back onto the tray. Flexing her fingers, forcing them to work, she tried again. Mina and Sotiris dominated her mind. Failure was not an option. Her grip tightened around it.

  The tool in hand, Katya pried its sharp metal tip into the restraint's seam. Sharp needle-like pain traveled throughout her arm into her shoulder while working it. Whenever her grip threatened to give, she forced herself to tighten up as she rattled it about. It connected with the restraint's inner mechanism, and gravity sent her toppling headfirst to the floor, her legs remaining confined at the ankles to the table. Screaming, Katya caught herself with her hands, including her much-abused right one. Her vision dulled as she stammered and cursed, screaming at times.

  Blindly, Katya stretched to get the laser cutter, the one her torturer had dropped. Like a mad woman, she chuckled when her fingers wrapped around it. Using her left hand and the cutter, she disconnected herself from the table.

  She tried to stand, only to topple to the floor. Need to get the blood circulating. She flexed her legs and toes, massaging them as well with her left hand. One of the Jar'rasks had a firearm. Prying it from his belt, she held it. Heavy and oddly balanced. Vitellius had probably been commissioned to custom build it by the Magistrate. While Avitus designs carried a certain elegance, Vitellius's bespoke of might and ruggedness: the backbone of the Magistrate, the maker had been dubbed. A poor fit for her as it'd been designed for Elites like the Jar'rasks and Breks; however, it would have to suit her purposes.

  Lurching forward, she returned to her feet and headed out the door, her gait unsteady. Along the way, she found herself somewhat dependent on the walls for balance. Even so, she stumbled along the hallway, bringing more feeling back to her legs with each step.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  As Katya snaked through the hallway of what seemed to be an A-Class Boita warship, she drifted away from the wall, no longer so reliant on it. Above, the lights produced heat and brought out the obsidian-like metal's gleam. A faint scent of methane hung in the corridors, probably produced by its inhabitants. Doors were evenly placed throughout, and the ship appeared to be similar in build to the Aletheia. Katya wiped her forehead with her throbbing hand, now a lovely shade of purple with hints of red, blue, and black. Beyond the lights, the ship's environmental controls had to have been set to produce a large amount of heat. Perhaps if that was sabotaged, the Jar'rasks would . . .

  She paused. A body lay in the corridor in front of her. Evidently, the third Jar'rask—the reddish-tan one—hadn't made it far. His prone figure sent shivers down her spine. Only a toddler, yet he was capable of . . . no, he didn't understand. He'd lashed out to stop the pain that was overwhelming her without thought to what his actions meant. The Jar'rasks, similar to the Breks before them, had simply been bad in his mind. Still—she stood over the corpse—such powers, especially in the hands of a child, were unnerving.

  Gritting her teeth, she clutched the Jar'rask firearm in her left hand. Mina would be nearby in one of the other interrogation rooms. She would find her, her and Sotiris. Her grip on the gun ached.

  An eerie silence swathed the corridors. No screams, no loud Jar'rasks, not even footfalls beyond her own
. A faint hum from the ship was all. As she went to open the first room's door, Katya raised her gun. Empty. She moved onto the next and met the same results. When she opened the fourth door, movement met her, and she pulled the trigger. Shit! Her jaw slackened when the trigger stuck. The Jar'rask surged forward, teeth snapping at her. The trigger required more pressure. Dodging the creature, she pressed two fingers against the trigger, which gave way. The Jar'rask collapsed to the floor with a thud, a hole in its head. Katya scanned the room. Its table was empty and pristine; however, given the antiseptic stench, that didn't mean it hadn't been used recently.

  Warm breath pawed at her neck. Katya swung around, but she found herself colliding with the floor after something hard—a scaly tail—struck her legs. In a blur, she rolled, gripping onto her firearm, her lifeline. The Jar'rask's tail whacked against the floor multiple times, following Katya as she went. Cleared of its radius, she lurched to her feet and tried to get a good bead. The Jar'rask rushed her, staying almost on top of her, whipping its tail akin to a club.

  Stay ahead, stay ahead. She fumbled for the trigger and strained to pull it. A graze. A damn graze. Katya almost laughed, knowing she'd only succeeded in pissing him off further. She darted onto her feet and fired another shot; this time it hit the Jar'rask dead-on. Rasping, Katya straightened as the Jar'rask collapsed to the floor. Both Jar'rasks in the room carried a larger model of firearm than the one she had; she imagined the trigger would be even harder to pull. Still, she removed one from the brown Jar'rask nearest the door and fixed it on her belt, which cut into her skin because of the weapon's weight. She checked its other possessions, pausing when she found a flash grenade. She pocketed it before stepping out of the room.

  In the hallway, a door that had been shut lay open. Tightening her grip on the smaller firearm, she slinked into the room. No Jar'rasks—

  "Mina . . ." Katya darted to the teen's side, setting her weapon on the floor by the table.

  Sweat glistened on the teenager's brow from exertion or—Katya hissed, sucking in air upon finding a stump, cauterized, where there should have been a forearm and hand. Katya fingered the table's controls and caught Mina as it released her. The girl sputtered but didn't regain consciousness. Katya fought to stay collected while she eased Mina onto the floor. She rubbed the teen's cheek and offered the same soothing coos she would use with Sotiris.

  "Mina, I need you to wake up; I need you to focus on my voice. Can you do that?" Katya patted her cheek, applying more pressure now. "There we go. Keep your eyes open. I need you to do that, you understand?"

  Mina sobbed when she grew more aware of her surroundings. She mumbled a string of sounds, none of which made sense.

  "You're free now, but we aren't out of this yet." Katya tried to stand, but Mina grabbed her with her left hand, whimpering. "Shh . . . I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to see if I can get you some water and something for the pain. And then, we'll get you somewhere safe so I can find Sotiris."

  Katya dug through the room's cabinets, sorting through glass pharmaceutical bottles for ones with Magistrate labeling; finally, she recognized a mild pain reliever. It would at least take some of the edge off. After grabbing a syringe, she returned to Mina. "I'm going prick you, but this will help." Katya reached for Mina's injured arm, only for the girl to recoil. "I need to inject it there, at the site of the injury."

  "Injury—" Mina choked out. "Th-they cut off my arm!"

  "And this will help with the pain." Katya grabbed Mina's arm and drove the needle in, injecting the drug, a little more than the normal dosage. "We'll get out of here. I promise you. And when we're out, we'll get you a prosthetic—it won't be the same. No," she continued when the girl sobbed again. "It'll never be the same, but we'll pull you through this."

  Tears cascaded down Mina's face. Probably her own, too, since she found her vision blurred. She squeezed Mina's shoulder and stood, this time to retrieve water with a metal bowl she'd found. Jar'rasks were just as dependent on the liquid as humanoids were and had a small sink in the space, though its purpose here was likely to clean up after sessions. She brought Mina into a seated position and eased the water into her mouth, all while minding the door. The hallways were too empty, especially for an A-Class warship. They hadn't fully staffed the ship. She recalled the fighting pair, her torturer's words. Jar'rasks required plenty of space to avoid each other, or there would be a bloodbath.

  "Feeling better?" Katya asked.

  "No."

  "I didn't expect you to." Katya wiped the sweat from Mina's face with her own shirt before helping the girl to her feet. She draped the girl's arm over her shoulders, running her free arm under Mina's armpit. "Let's move. We're going to get you close to a hangar bay and hide you while I get Sotiris. We owe our escape to him."

  Mina goggled at her.

  "If Rein"—venom seeped into her voice when she said that name—"had seen what our boy is capable of, he wouldn't have been so quick to throw him. He was able to target a few of the Jar'rasks on this deck with his special ability."

  Katya retrieved her firearm on their way out of the room.

  "How are we getting off this ship?" Mina leaned into Katya, her legs threatening to buckle.

  "There'll be ships in the bay, fast ones that the Elites use for missions." The heat of the ship and her effort to support Mina . . . sweat slid into Katya's eyes; her mouth tasted of salt. "I imagine we were brought here on one since they aren't about to land an A-Class warship over such a trivial matter. With luck, we'll be able to sneak onto one of those fast ships and outfly anyone they send to get us."

  "What . . . aren't you saying?" Mina's voice wavered as she spoke.

  Katya chuckled; it lacked any levity. "First, I have to hunt down Sotiris and then knock our captors out of FTL. If we launched a ship from the bay at this speed, we'd be torn apart." Katya glanced at the ceiling. "And there are probably cameras, so we have to move fast. Good news is I don't think I've triggered too much attention yet."

  They would have been met by more Jar'rasks by this point if she had; yet here they remained unfettered. They limped through the corridor until they reached a lift. Katya guided Mina in and entered level thirty, where the hangar bays were located on ships of this size. Placing Mina against the back of the lift, Katya faced the door, her firearm raised and ready. The door slid open within a few seconds. On the other side, nothing. Katya stepped out and checked the corridor, meeting the same results. At some point, Mina had wobbled out after her.

  "Come on." She returned her arm to support the girl. "Let's find you a hiding spot."

  That spot took the form of a storage room, which Katya assumed had to be near one of the main hangar bays. Different parts lined its many shelves, along with specialized suits for the Jar'rasks. Katya positioned Mina at the back of the room and made sure she was well out of sight, adjusting a few pieces of equipment to fully obscure her. Satisfied, she crouched beside the girl.

  "Stay quiet. No matter what, not a sound." She handed the smaller of the two firearms to Mina, leaving the safety on for now. "Test the trigger; it's a hard push, and I want to make sure you can manage it."

  Mina did as told. She had to use two fingers, but she managed it.

  "Leave the safety on," Katya continued. "If the door opens, take the safety off. But stay quiet, don't move, and don't fire unless seen. Aim for the head. I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise, I'll get you and Sotiris to a ship and find some way to slow our hosts down."

  Mina swallowed, sweat dripping from her chin. The girl had to be edging the line between dehydration and exhaustion. "How are you going to find Sotiris?"

  Katya towered over Mina after straightening. "I have a feeling he can help me. I'll be right back. Stay awake. Stay alert."

  She thumbed the door open again and retraced her steps to the lift, moving like a mother fox to put distance between her and her kit's location. The lift doors closed. Where are you? Sotiris's little tendrils didn't greet her. Had he woken? The lift hur
tled toward the ship's upper levels. Come on. Katya continued to think as loudly—if that was possible—as she could, hoping to draw out the boy. He had tried communicating with her before, but unfortunately for the Oneiroi child, their brains weren't exactly compatible, hence his attempts drudging up long-buried, forgotten memories.

  The lift slowed. Katya's lips formed a thin line, and she hoisted up the larger firearm. It stopped. Swoosh! She compressed the trigger with three fingers and hit one of two Jar'rasks square in the chest. He fell backward with the force as did Katya. She cursed while sharp, jagged pain radiated throughout her shoulder and arms. The recoil was beyond anything she'd experienced before. She had to ditch the firearm and find another smaller one. Gritting her teeth, she braced herself and fired again. Only there was a delay with the gun, and the second Jar'rask took full advantage, dodging the shot while also drawing closer.

  As Katya fumbled with the gun, she hit something, a button, a latch—something. "Ehhh—" She almost dropped the firearm when it sent out bolts in rapid succession. She couldn't control it; the shots went every which way, but one—maybe three—hit her assailant.

  Katya discarded the overheated gun, which burned her hands, and unfastened one of the downed Jar'rask's smaller handguns, one she could at least manage. She also sequestered a slate, larger than most standard Magistrate-issued devices, from a pocket in its leather uniform. The device featured sizeable buttons at its bottom in addition to thicker glass, which the Jar'rask had apparently been licking to navigate the menus. Despite all that and the foreign language it was defaulted to, it was basic, and she knew the way to the language selection menu like the back of her hand. She had to press harder but still could navigate its menus. She smirked as familiar letters and words replaced the unfamiliar ones.