by Elin Wyn
Sherre tried to ignore the shiver that sent through her, and she cleared her throat as Zaddik yanked open a set of drawers.
She half expected him to throw the black shirt that he pulled out to her, but instead he just threw it on the ground and hauled up a large laser gun.
Apparently, Kogav kept his guns hidden amongst his clothes.
“Do all of you have a secret arsenal?” she blurted out, dumfounded. On her scout ship, they had maybe two lasers between herself and her crew.
“You call this an arsenal?” Zaddik asked seriously, looking up at her.
“You don’t?” she countered. Zaddik just turned back to the drawers, but she’d caught the grin on his face.
It made her want to kiss him again.
“So,” she said, trying to distract herself. “How many Thagzars do you think are out there?”
“Well,” Zaddik grunted, hoisting up a massive crossbow-looking thing. “Each scout ship can house a crew of five, but as the Thagzars are a narcissistic lot who like to forget that numbers are their friends, I’m betting we’re looking at three per ship. Maybe.”
“So six,” Sherre muttered. That meant, theoretically, that she’d have to fight three of them.
“Yep,” Zaddik agreed. “And this baby’s gonna get ‘em all in one shot.”
That sounded much better than trying to fight an alien with superior strength one-on-one, and she looked up to see what he was referring to.
“Is that a cannon?” she asked, eyeing the bulky misshapen mass of black stone on the floor. It seemed to shape up to a point on the other side, and she wondered if that was where the ammo would be fired out of it.
“Oh no,” Zaddik shook his head, looking very happy with the hunk of metal at his feet. “This is a bomb.”
That made Sherre jump about two steps back. “A-a bomb?!” What the hell were they thinking, having that on board?
“I didn’t know he had it, either,” Zaddik shrugged, crossing his arms as he loomed over the thing. It was still huge, coming up to his knee from where it sat on the floor. “But these babies are the best against Thagzars.”
“You mean you plan to set that off in the ship?” Sherre squeaked. “You can’t—”
“Relax,” Zaddik said patiently, his eyes soft as he looked over at her. “It won’t affect us, or the ship’s structure. It releases a synthetic, aerosolized version of their own venom.”
“But the Thagzars…?” Sherre asked, giving the bomb a dubious look.
“So long as we set it off within ten feet of them, it should stop their hearts. Damn things have three of them,” he added, crouching down to inspect the bomb. “Can’t let them see it, though. They’ll recognize it on sight.”
“How much farther to the control room?” Sherre frowned, edging closer to the supposedly harmless bomb.
“A hallway. Eighty feet, give or take?” Zaddik guessed.
“How do we transport it?” she asked, squatting beside him to stare at the ugly metal sphere. “I mean, if we run into them, and they see it—”
“I’m sure Kogav won’t mind if we borrow a few things,” Zaddik said slyly, glancing at the blue bed behind them. “Or rather,” he added, standing to approach it. “He’ll forgive me, if I tell him that I finally put his weapons to good use.” Grabbing a fistful of the linens, he ripped them off, tossing them at Sherre’s feet.
“We’re going to cover it with a sheet?” she asked doubtfully.
“That, along with this,” he said, crossing the room to a corner closet. Reaching inside, he pulled a flat cart. A few things spilled off of it as he moved it, but they weren’t apparently of any worth as Zaddik continued to knock everything else to the ground, as well. “With this,” he continued confidently, pushing the cart over to the bomb. “They’ll never know what hit them.”
Sherre ended up being the one to push the cart through the halls. Zaddik, instead, took the lead, checking around corners as he kept the safety on his hand lasers off.
“Last turn,” he whispered to Sherre, peeking through the doorway as he checked the hallway. Sherre didn’t bother him, but kept her ears alert and her eyes wide, bracing herself for the sound of footsteps or a sudden hiss of the Thagzar tongue.
Glancing back at Sherre, Zaddik motioned for her to follow him silently, turning the corner. She pressed after him with the cart, taking it slow to keep the wheels from kicking up too much noise.
“Here,” Zaddik breathed, reaching for the keypad. “We just need to get inside, and it’ll all be over.”
And then it happened, the terrifying moment that Sherre had been bracing herself for.
Laser fire whizzing by them, disintegrating the walls as Sherre and Zaddik ducked. Sparing a glance behind her, Sherre could see two creatures racing towards them, both armed with laser guns of their own. But it wasn’t the weapons that scared her.
‘Snake men,’ her captain had called them. Sherre had foolishly imagined a cartoon snake with equally laughable limbs, but the two Thagzars barreling towards them were anything but.
With flat faces and piercing yellow eyes, their scaled skin seemed green under the artificial light, though Sherre couldn’t be sure. But she could definitely make out a tail, blinking at the Thagzars like they were monsters that’d just popped out from under her bed.
“Get down!” Zaddik growled, and she fell to her knees under the firm push to her shoulder. “Nasty snakes!” Zaddik cursed, and from the way that the Thagzars hissed back, Sherre had to wonder if the creatures were familiar with the Eiztar slang for them.
Zaddik didn’t say anything else as he fired, matching the Thagzars’ botched aim with a deadly one, sending laser fire into a leg and another into a head.
The one with the leg injury tumbled forward, screeching as it fired again. Zaddik jumped aside, forcing a laugh as the shot flew right by him, and he shot the second Thagzar dead.
“Two down,” he chuckled darkly, slipping the lasers into his belt like a holster. “Hey, Sherre,” he called happily, whirling around.
But Sherre wasn’t listening. She was staring down at the red staining her shoulder, blinking slowly as she tried to make the connection between the shooting pain in her side and the blood spreading through her uniform.
“Sherre!” he shouted, forgoing a run as he propelled himself to her side in an instant with a jump. “Sherre,” he said again, quieter this time as he reached out a hand to her shoulder.
“Don’t,” she shook her head, just barely holding back tears. “It hurts.”
“I know,” he nodded. “I know, but—”
“Ssshhck!”
Zaddik jerked his head up at the noise, and Sherre followed his gaze, a drop in her stomach as she saw the three other Thagzars that had just rounded the corner.
“Here,” Zaddik growled, grabbing her under the knees to lift her up. Sherre could tell that he was taking as much care as he could to keep from jostling her, moving as slowly as he could with three Thagzars at his back. “Fuck,” he cursed, practically smashing his code into the keypad. With a whoosh, the door opened for them.
“Don’t use my code,” Zaddik said quickly, placing her just inside the door. “Don’t let anyone in.”
Frowning through the pain, Sherre asked, “What?” But then Zaddik was gone, rushing back into the hall as the door closed between them.
Zaddik
They were bonding. She’d almost been killed, and they were bonding.
Zaddik wasn’t sure which thought was more terrifying.
“Hshhhah!”
Still, the concern and panic over Sherre was a change from the fear that’d been gripping him ever since he’d first decided to fight for his ship against the pathetic Thagzar scout takeover. Now he was feeling more or less normal, glaring at the Thagzars with disgust instead of crippling horror.
“Get. Off. My. Ship!” he snarled, firing off his lasers as he fought his way back to the bomb. It was still covered in Kogav’s offensive blue sheets, technically hidden bu
t within arm’s reach.
Right where he would’ve preferred Sherre to be, rather than bleeding out in the control room behind him.
“Fucking snakes!” Zaddik roared furiously, popping up above the bomb to get a better aim. The Thagzars scrambled for some cover of their own, hissing and spitting at one another.
It’d been a few years since Zaddik had come face-to-face with a band of Thagzars like this, and even longer since he’d bothered to make sense of their language. But he was still wearing an Eiztar earpiece, one that knew Thagzar very, very well.
“I can smell another!” one of them called to his teammates, hidden behind the left corner while his two comrades were shrinking beyond the right.
“Where?!” one demanded, at the same time that the third hissed, “It’s bleeding.”
Zaddik did his best to ignore them. He flung off the sheet covering the bomb and swore. In the fight, the bomb had turned, the trigger was hidden under the folds. All it would take was one well-placed shot of a laser, and he’d have them.
But the Thags pressed closer, and he’d only have time for one shot.
“It’s a bitch!” one of them shouted out gleefully. Zaddik grit his teeth, pushing down the memories he had of his days spent in servitude to the aliens.
Damned if any of the bastards would get any nearer to Sherre.
“There,” Zaddik breathed, and he shoved his laser into the small opening, pulling the trigger as he looked up to see the bravest of the Thagzars stepping from around the corner.
The split-second of fear in the creature’s eyes was more than satisfying.
With a small bang, the bomb popped in half. Dark smoke filled the air, and the bitter smell of the poison filled his nostrils.
An irritant to him, but the Thagzars didn’t stand a chance, even as they shouted and ran. They’d already breathed in too much. With three sickening smacks Zaddik knew they’d fallen dead.
He took a deep breath, then checked his scanners. Finally, his ship was his own. Not a single Thagzar remained.
Normally, he’d poke their corpses and rob their pockets, but something much more important required his attention. Standing, he faced the keypad and input his code, both elated and anxious to open the door.
Sherre was right where he’d left her, slumped on the floor with a bleeding shoulder and pure shock written across her face.
He didn’t waste time; he picked her up, much more slowly this time, and set her into the closest chair. They were in the control room, meaning plush seats and warm beverage stations.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised, already straightening to march across the room and grab the medic kit above the navigator’s board.
Sherre’s light grip on his wrist stopped him.
“You fought them alone,” she said quietly, her voice hitching as she struggled to breathe through the obvious pain in her shoulder. “I told you I wouldn’t be of any help—”
Zaddik couldn’t help it, he kissed her. Had been dying to ever since she’d tried and knocked their teeth together, showing her inexperience.
But he couldn’t exactly make this a long one, either. “Hold that thought,” he breathed, jumping up to race across the room. The medic kit was there, thank goodness, and he ran back to her just as fast, dangling the box in front of her face. “Thought you could use this.”
Rather than smile like Zaddik was hoping she would, Sherre squeezed her eyes closed and made a choking noise. The tears suddenly escaping down her face only confirmed what Zaddik had feared, and he moved quickly to brush them away.
“I’m s-so sorry,” she apologized brokenly. “I don’t know what you thought my braids ever meant, but I’m not some warrior.” She spit the word like an insult, and Zaddik had to wonder what she thought of him. “I’m a navigator! I’m not brave.”
“Sherre,” Zaddik said kindly, furrowing his brow. “You are so brave.”
She opened her eyes, frowning at him angrily. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” he nodded furiously, “I really do. You’re half my age, never been caught in laser fire before, and you still agreed to help me take back my ship. Hell, you even accepted the alien weaponry I shoved into your hands.”
“Yeah,” Sherre rolled her eyes at herself. “A lot of good that did.”
But Zaddik just shook his head, taking a moment to pop open the medic kit and retrieve one of the pink bottles.
“Sherre,” Zaddik said, looking for a wrapped needle in the mess of bandages and tape. Finally, he found one, and he tore it from the clear packaging to stick it on the end of the bottle’s top. “There are different kinds of bravery.”
“Mine’s just the worst kind,” she said bitterly.
Zaddik scowled. He did not like this Sherre, so full of self-hatred and resentment. Still, he knew that he wouldn’t exactly be full of optimism and happy thoughts if he’d just taken a laser to the shoulder, and he gently took her hand. “This’ll only sting for a moment,” he assured her, giving her a second to protest before he eased the needle under her skin.
They both watched the pink liquid disappear from the bottle to her arm in silence, and it was only after Zaddik had disposed of the used needle that he grinned to himself, thinking.
“What?” Sherre asked defensively.
“No,” he shook his head. “It’s just—what you said earlier, about your bravery being the worst kind? It reminded me of an old Sarosian tale.”
“Do tell,” Sherre asked, panting lightly. The medicine was no doubt already taking effect.
“I don’t quite know how to explain it,” Zaddik admitted, taking a seat in the chair across from her. “There are many great fish in Saros, as the planet holds more water than land, and some even believe that the first Sarosian people transformed from fish.” When Sherre didn’t dismiss the idea but rather leaned forward, obviously interested, he continued.
“One fish was desperate to return to the sea, but it wasn’t just his body that had transformed, it was his heart,” he explained, thumping his chest. “He knew he could not revert with it lodged in his chest, but he had no means to remove it himself. So, he began asking other Sarosians about it.”
“And they felt the same way?” Sherre guessed.
“Oh no, quite the opposite – they liked being both a creature of land and sea, no longer reliant on the water to stay alive but content to breathe the open air. They laughed at the young Sarosian, and told him he was foolish for wanting what he did not have. From the farmer to the thatcher, they all had a different reason for why he should remain on land, but also why he should want to keep his heart. The farmer said it kept a man strong, while the priestess proclaimed that it was the one thing separating us from not just the fishes but the birds, and the bugs.”
“So, he kept his heart?” she asked.
“Nope,” Zaddik grinned. “He gave it away.”
“But,” Sherre frowned, and Zaddik was relieved to see her move her arm without thinking. Apparently, the medicine was working. “If it’s so valuable…?”
“He thought, why not give it away to another who will really appreciate it? So, he gave it to his wife.” Crossing his legs, Zaddik added, “And she gave him braided treasures of the world he’d left behind to ward off Sarosian fishermen.”
“Is that why you wear things in your braids?” Sherre wondered, looking up at his hair. “Or, wait, is that why you braid in the first place? I thought it was a sign of bravery?”
“Not quite,” Zaddik chuckled, glancing at Sherre’s own braids. “The Eldiriak value the courage to follow your own destiny above all else, and the braid signifies the balance between your own path and those that others would trap you in. The more risks you take, the larger the braid. Still,” he said, grinning. “The similarities between the Sarosian and the Eldiriak’s are oddly—Hey, what’re you doing?”
Sherre paused, stopping her fingers for a moment as they carded through her hair. “Taking out my braids,” she said simply.
“Why?” Zaddik frowned. “You’ve clearly earned them.”
“Me?” It was Sherre’s turn to frown. “I’ve done nothing to follow my heart.”
“I find that very hard to believe,” Zaddik said gently.
With a sigh, Sherre shook her head. “I grew up on Earth where everyone was expected to join the academy. Then, when I did, I was told I couldn’t get into Weapons, so I shrugged and signed up for Scouts. And when they told me I couldn’t be a pilot, I became a navigator. I haven’t stood up for myself once!”
“And yet you walk with this remarkable sense of self,” Zaddik pressed. “Unique to your person and happy to be so.” Standing, Zaddik moved closer to her chair, not even thinking about it as he bent to kiss her forehead. “A remarkable woman. No wonder my heart bonded to yours.”
Her eyes widened.
“Bonded?” Sherre repeated.
Zaddik clenched his jaw, regretting it the second after he’d said it. Of course Sherre would deny it; he was twice her age, and a grunt to boot. She probably had much better prospects on her planet alone.
“Sorry,” he said quickly, moving away from her. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“No, no!” Sherre shook her head, waving him off. “Please, imply away. I just don’t know what you’re… I mean, bonding?” she said again, furrowing her brow. “What’s ‘bonding?’”
Zaddik, for the first time in his long life, was at a loss for words. “Excuse me?” Had he heard right?
“Sorry,” she apologized, her face flushing again. “Um, if it’s like dating,” she started, and he knew immediately that she was thinking about their kiss earlier.
“It’s more,” he said clearly, an odd sort of boldness pushing him. “A lifelong commitment,” he said, almost like he was daring her to turn him down.
Sherre’s eyes widened, and she muttered, “Oh. Oh, so it’s serious.” Then, apparently thinking better of it, she pushed herself up out of the chair to stand.
“Hey!” Zaddik scowled, rushing over to offer her a hand. “Don’t get up, you just—”