From the Ashes

by A B Lucian

  Captain Dupont seemed to notice it in his eyes. He breathed in deep. “Yes, Yosh Farmer. You were a clever boy when we first met four years ago and you have grown into a clever man. You have learned much. Think! You escaped from the midst of the Arkanian Secret Police in one of their own shuttles. You fought off and outsmarted trained Enforcers.”

  Yes, Yosh had fought the arkanian commander and won, twice. Yes, he fought two arkanians at once. “No,” he muttered. His heart pounded and his knees wobbled. It was preposterous, a child’s daydream.

  “Those Enforcers are not normal arkanians, as I am sure you observed,” the captain insisted.

  “Tails,” Yosh mumbled, leaning to massage his calf, but the ache had disappeared. “And red eyes, awful red eyes…”

  “Yes, Yosh.” Dupont approached him. “Their kind have not had tails in thousands of years. Primitive arkanians had tails, but renounced them long ago. Someone has altered these Enforcers. We’ve run into them before. They are more like their ancestors. They are stronger, faster and more aggressive than normal arkanians. And you beat them.”

  What was Yosh supposed to make of all this? The only sensible response was to laugh. He laughed for what seemed like minutes with no interruptions, but he was the only one laughing. He stopped when he felt soreness behind his eyes and pain in his belly. “I’m Yosh Farmer. I tend dog herds for my arkanian overlords for ten hours a day and then spend another five with my smuggler friends because I’m bored with my dull slave life. The other slaves can’t stand me. I’m a human and they see us as the scum of the galaxy. To top it off, my grandfather is the Overseer for Shacktown. That means he gets more privileges than the others, and so do I. Imagine how glad the locals are to see me.

  “I got beaten by a sylosian a few days ago. He nearly knocked the head from my shoulders. And my grandfather? My grandfather is an old librarian judging by how many books he has. I love him and those books—I read every single one. But he takes an hour to walk to Shacktown. Does that sound like a Protector to you? Besides, they all died at Earthfall, right? How long has it been? A hundred years?”

  “A hundred and six,” Miles said, and strapped his knife back in the leather scabbard on his belt.

  Yosh forced a cackle again. “A hundred and six! What does it matter anymore after a hundred and six years?”

  Miles’s eyes burned. “I was born on Earth, smallfry. People are still fighting and dying there, and they’d kill you on principle if you asked them why their sacrifices—their lives and deaths—matter. No one has stopped counting, and no one has stopped hoping.” He snarled. “It matters, Yosh.”

  Yosh hid his eyes from Miles. He was sorry about what he said, but what did they expect from him? All this wasn’t his fault.

  Captain Dupont placed a gentle finger on Yosh’s chest. “The bolt hit you here, Yosh Farmer.”

  Yosh backed away. “They wanted me alive,” he said, shaking his head. “I heard them. They probably set the gun to stun—”

  “The gun wasn’t set to stun,” Miles interrupted. “Even if it was, arkanian pulse rifles could kill a sylosian with a stun to the heart at close range.”

  “But not a Protector,” the captain said.

  They’re mad, he thought. They’re all mad. He leaned against the door frame, the cold of the steel seeping through his tunic. “I’m Yosh. I’m just Yosh. I’m nearsighted… and I have b-boils all over my skin.” He lifted his arm as evidence, pulling the sleeve back all the way to the shoulder. “I use eye drops and ointments for it. Protectors are immune to—”

  He moved to run his fingers over the familiar, fleshy bumps, keeping his eyes peeled for the disgust he usually saw on people’s faces. The boils were gone. He’d forgotten. He pulled the tunic over his head and ran his hands across his chest and stomach. There skin was smooth. And he could see precisely how smooth it was. He saw the tiniest strand of hair on his skin, the slightest wrinkle. He turned his palms over and saw the microscopic drops of sweat gushing out through the tiny pores in his skin.

  “Your grandfather was the last Protector of the Earth, Yosh Farmer, that’s a fact,” Captain Dupont said again. “But he isn’t anymore. Now he has you.”

  ◆◆◆

  Yosh’s feet dangled over the edge of the canyon. Mandessa’s sun soared above him now, the center of a huge blue ocean. The sky always sent his thoughts to what his grandfather said about Earth—‘the blue pearl of the universe’ he called it. Yosh hated to consider his fascination with Earth as a trick of genetic manipulation. All Protectors carried an innate desire, an instinct, to love and defend Earth and its people no matter what. He felt manipulated. His childhood was a lie. His entire life was a lie. Was there anything real about what he lived? Paranoia grabbed Yosh by the throat, clutching harder and harder. Were his feelings real? His curiosity, his shame, his pride... was any of it genuine? If love for Earth could be induced, why not everything else?

  Yosh spent over an hour going over every conversation he ever had with his grandfather. Every word they ever exchanged bore a new meaning now. Or maybe Yosh’s imagination and fear warped the past? What other lies had grandfather told him? What was true about his life? Yosh couldn’t sure anything was real anymore. “Blast him,” Yosh mumbled. “Why didn’t he tell me?” He hurled another pebble at the Archibald.

  “The captain sent me,” a tiny voice came from behind. “He wants you to stop throwing rocks at his ship.”

  “I need to think,” Yosh told Assai without turning.

  “Yosh… please, come back to the ship. It’s not safe out here. I know it’s a lot to process, and we aren’t good at handling such things, but—”

  Yosh flung another rock as hard as he could at the ship. It struck the hull near the bridge and the thud echoed through the small canyon for almost a minute. Why was Assai defending them? Why wasn’t she on his side? He turned to her. “You lied to me! You all lied to me, even you, for years.”

  Assai’s short ears flattened against her head at Yosh’s tirade.

  “Poor Yosh, let’s pretend to be his friend. No one likes him, but at least we’re paid well to talk to him and laugh at his jokes. Did you laugh at me behind my back when I went home? I’m sure you all had a blast, snickering every time I turned my head. All those looks you guys exchanged, all those jokes I couldn’t understand…”

  Assai’s eyes grew big and moist as she shook her head. “Yosh, no…”

  “You took me for a fool. Go back and laugh at me with the rest of my fake friends. I need to be alone.” It pained Yosh to dump his anger on Assai, but she had played along with the others. She was part of it. He might have moved past it faster if she had displayed more remorse, but her face turned from shocked and sorry to a strange, defiant, and angry look. Her pupils dilated to the maximum, even in the bright sun. Dammit, what was that for? He was the victim here, not her. “I said leave. How many times to I have to tell you?”

  Assai moved with the grace of a cat and the speed of a lightning bolt, as always. She got within a step from him in a heartbeat. Her palm bit his cheek and rattled his brain. The blow left his face numb, and the shock made him forget everything for a few moments, but when he remembered, the rage boiled through his veins.

  “The captain said I was part of the family,” Yosh said, waving his arms. “Is this how you people treat family? How much did my grandfather pay you to adopt me?” Assai’s eyes widened. If she slaps me again I swear I’ll slap her back. He wanted her to try. Then another thought dawned on him and his heart shrunk. The rage sunk somewhere deep inside for a few moments. The question stuck in his brain, constricting his throat like two large, searing hands squeezing the air and life out of him. He breathed in shakily and asked: “How much—” He breathed in again. “How much did my grandfather pay you to kiss me?”

  Assai’s eyes flashed, her pupils widening to the size of her irises. And the slap came, but Yosh caught it. Assai’s arm trembled in his grasp, and a low throaty growl ululated from somewhere deep within
her. The sound was like the low purr she made when she was happy, only the exact opposite. Yosh forgot his plan to slap her back. It was the first time Yosh saw her angry. Miles had warned him to stay clear of her when she growled from her throat. The bald security chief showed him the scar above his forehead to prove his point. He prodded Assai once when she was younger. Miles didn’t go into specifics, but the result hadn’t been pretty.

  Yosh let go of her arm, wary of what she might do and regretting what he said. But the growl didn’t cease. It swelled and peaked with no discernable pattern. Assai’s eyes were two balls of the deepest black Yosh had ever seen. They were almost the same age, but her eyes seemed decades older than Yosh’s. Those eyes had seen death. Those eyes had caused death. Yosh tried to back away, just as Miles had advised him. “Eventually, you’ll get her mad, trust me on that. When you do, don’t run, because she’ll catch you. Either you back away nice and slow like, your head bowed and your arms lowered, so she’ll think you’re a coward and not worthy of killing, or fight her and beat her.” Miles had been very casual about the fighting and beating her part, as if to indicate this would be the ideal solution.

  “What did you do when you made her angry?” Yosh had asked him.

  “I backed away, of course,” Miles had said huffing, as if he hadn’t even considered another choice. “Kohiri were a peaceful race once, but not anymore. And Assai… She’s a different story all together.”

  Fighting her would be foolish. Yosh couldn’t even hold her stare. Every time they locked eyes he felt like a wounded hare in the path of a hungry wild lion. His foot scraped the edge of the canyon and found only air behind him. Assai’s growl intensified when she saw him stepping back. Her lips curled upward, revealing neat, sharp feline incisors. Coward, right, he thought. You don’t like cowards.

  He’d fought her a thousand times during training, but this was different. Her eyes, her stance, her scent, everything was different. No one would keep score this time. Real-world rules would apply. Whoever’s left standing wins. Yosh eyed the two kohiri swords strapped to Assai’s back. She could have one out and through his heart in the blink of an eye, but she didn’t move to use them. It would be hand-to-hand then. If he spent any more time thinking about it, his knees would turn to jelly or he’d hurl himself over the lip of the canyon. So he stopped thinking and threw himself at her. Assai moved to match him. Fists flew, kicks connected, and they danced a brutal dance of bone and flesh. A dance she’d taught him well.

  Yosh didn’t want to hurt Assai, so he abstained from aiming at her face or any sensitive areas, but that made it easy for her to get the upper hand. She made him pay for the slightest hesitation. Their limbs intertwined and grappled and pulled at each other and struck mercilessly. They turned, twisted, and pirouetted to avoid blows and to grow momentum for moves that were set up five steps in advance. They kicked, they punched, they grunted, and they yelled, dancing on the edge of the canyon.

  These were the deadliest blows Yosh had ever received or pulled off. He couldn’t believe he actually kept up with Assai, but there was no time to clap himself on the back. When he moved, he had to move with nothing less than his top speed. When he attacked, he had to attack with the intent to maim or kill. Anything less didn’t have a chance of grazing Assai in the state she was in—her fur had puffed up, making her look bigger and making it more difficult for Yosh to calculate where a blow should land to hit bone or muscle.

  The sun moved across the sky, oblivious to their little dance. It approached the horizon fast, and they were both tired and sweaty when one of Assai’s swords slid out. Yosh froze. Was she that mad at him? Assai pulled the other blade out and threw it at Yosh’s feet. He grinned and picked it up. Assai’s temporary madness, or bloodlust, or whatever it was, was gone, but they had started something—something they both liked. There was danger and there was the game. They had birthed a certain chemistry that kept them going. Yosh smelled Assai’s intent in the air, saw it in her eyes and in her movements, felt it when her fur brushed past his skin.

  Assai grinned back at him, the tips of her sharp incisors gleaming hazily in the light of the setting Mandessan sun. Another dance began, a deadlier dance, one with very little room for error. It was precisely how they wanted it to be—a dance of steel and blood—their steel, their blood, their aching flesh and throbbing bones. The blades were thin and razor sharp. They whirled past their ears and faces, loping off a sliver of skin here, a nibble of hair there. Yosh’s eyes couldn’t follow the movements of the blades, but they didn’t need to. He knew—felt—where his blade and Assai’s blade was, and where both would go during the next three moves.

  Soon, Yosh’s tunic was ribbons and Assai’s jumpsuit tatters. The sky turned a dark violet, and they were still at it. Their blades lost their speed and accuracy. Yosh’s legs and arms felt like lead, and he barely held the sword up. Miles said he had to defeat her, but was it still the case? He thought their fight had evolved into something else, something new and beyond what either of them had believed it would be when they started. Both seemed happy with the result, but it wouldn’t end until one of them won. He knew Assai, and he knew himself, well enough to understand that.

  They separated. Yosh gathered his strength and prepared for one last charge—the decisive move. It seemed Assai had the same thought. Years of training and sparring culminated in this final clash of their blades. The last of the sun’s dying rays glinted off their dented blades as they raised them above their heads. Knees bent, shoulders and arms relaxed, don’t look at the blade so the dark red reflection doesn’t blind you, one last deep breath, and attack.

  Despite the exhaustion, they struck like lightning. Yosh didn’t understand what happened, and he didn’t care. One moment they ran at each other, throats yelling and blades whistling through the wind, crying out for one another. And the next they were both on the packed earth, arms and legs interlocked. Assai’s hands clutched at his hair and her mouth cradled his broken, bloody lips. Her tail wrapped around his waist, and she tore away the remains of his tunic.

  Her strong scent invaded and overwhelmed his sense of smell. It was earthy and sweet and he loved it. She climbed on top of him and threw off her tattered suit. They had fought each other relentlessly until they had become of one mind and reached the natural conclusion to their dance. They became of one body, moving as one, back and forth, and back and forth again. Their breath became one and their scents mixed to the point where he couldn’t tell which was which. It was a blur, and it was madness and it ended way too fast. Yosh remembered only Assai’s trembling body collapsing on top of him, followed by a plunge into a sleep so deep and pleasant he never wanted to wake.

  ◆◆◆

  The evening chill woke him. The pale blue face of Essa stared at them from above, it was always full and bright, a pale child’s face in the night sky. Yosh and Assai sprawled on the ground between a cluster of rocks, two hundred feet from the canyon where the Archibald hid. Assai slept with her head cradled on his shoulder and her tail wrapped around one of his bruised legs. He smiled and watched her for a minute. They had to get back to the ship, and a stone prodded him in the tailbone, but he didn’t have the heart to wake her. Assai purred—a soft, mellow sound from deep inside her chest. She was dirty, bloody, and bruised like he was. Yosh studied the caked dirt on Assai’s cheek, along with several bruises and cuts, and was careful not to disturb her sleep as he brushed the dirt away. The effort left his arm limp. We overdid it, he thought. It was dangerous and reckless, but… thank you, Assai.

  The others could wait. They could wait until Mandessa’s sun turned supernova. He never wanted to leave this place between the rocks where Assai slept on his shoulder. He pulled the rags of his former tunic over her naked body and laid his head against the hard ground. They’ll get an eyeful when they come looking for us though, he smiled to himself.

  He was a second away from collapsing back into a deep sleep when something tugged at his attention. Across the plain
between the canyon and Shacktown, moonlight shone off of something sharp. A raggedy shadow walked toward them, and in its hand gleamed a thin, sharp blade.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Who is she?” Captain Dupont asked.

  Yosh shrugged. “I don’t know. She just walked past us, and when we went to her she collapsed. I think she recognized me.” Yosh didn’t mention the part about him and Assai being naked. Everyone still gave them funny looks though. Miles had grinned and slapped his shoulder, Marge giggled, and Headly nodded and smiled. But it wasn’t just them. All twenty-odd Archibald crew members seemed to know. Yosh saw it in their eyes as he and Assai walked past, but perhaps he was just paranoid. Being lied to your entire life by friends and family will do that to you.

  Assai took his hand, weaving her fingers between his, and coiled her soft tail around his leg, and Yosh forgot all about the crew. They had cleaned themselves and shared the shower. Yosh lost track of time and they spent more than an hour in the small shower booth in Assai’s quarters. She grabbed a new black jumpsuit—she had quite a lot of them—but Yosh had to borrow clothes from Miles. The trousers fit well enough, but Miles was brawny and thick of waist. His shirt hung loose across Yosh’s shoulders and ended a tad above his waist, so Miles gave him a jacket to wear over it. It was dark green with four zipped pockets on the front. Yosh found cigarette buds, small pieces of scrap iron, a small knife, and spent cartridges when he searched them.

  They had brought the strange woman straight to the infirmary and all the senior officers gathered to hear what Doc Murdoc had to say. The doctor’s real name wasn’t Murdoc, and he wasn’t a real doctor, but he was the only physician the Archibald had. Marge had explained it to Yosh once. “His name is Murphy, and we just got around to calling him Murph. Then he got to be in charge of patching us up and we had to call him Doc too. So it was Doc Murphy for a while, but it was too long. Next it was Doc Murph for a few weeks and it wasn’t long until we switched those around and called him Murdoc. I guess it stuck, and we forgot, and now we throw in another Doc at the front. Funny if you think about it.” Yosh pretended to get the joke.