And her sister…
He couldn’t quite believe she had a sister. It seemed so… out of character.
“We’ll start at the bar,” Kyra pointed to a gaudy neon sign that fizzed and flickered. Wild Orchid, it read — pretty optimistic, given its surroundings.
“Good plan,” Lukas muttered.
The bar stood separately from the other structures, which looked like they’d been placed around it at a later date. The chunky stone walls had seen their fair share of damage and repair; their surface was lumpy with what might once have been carvings, now sand-blasted smooth by the post-apocalyptic weather.
Double doors led in off the street. Tris entered side-by-side with Kyra, to find a dingy, run-down bar full of dingy, run-down people. It stank of beer and body odour; smoke curled through the air, and granular orange dirt coated the floor. Every eye in the room came to rest on them, as Lukas clattered through the doors behind them.
Tris scanned clusters of weather-beaten faces, looking for enemies. No-one here seemed happy. An assortment of mismatched tables held grubby, bearded miners, whilst a group of younger men in matching grey overalls crowded one side of the bar. Booths lined the walls; in the one furthest from the doors, he spotted a slighter figure that could be a girl, sitting alone with her back to him. She wore a hood, and was the only person who hadn’t turned to ogle the strangers. Tris felt his pulse quicken. Ignoring the roomful of cold stares, he reached out with the Gift. The general mood was unfriendly, but not overtly hostile… yet he couldn’t get a fix on the girl; it was like she wasn’t really there.
He was about to mention this when he caught a flash of sheer terror from somewhere else nearby. That was definitely a girl. And she’s in trouble!
Kyra had sensed it, too. “Outside,” she snapped, spinning on her heel.
“But…” Lukas pointed forlornly at the bar. “They serve Red Rocket…”
Tris pushed past him and out onto the street. Kyra was already disappearing around the corner of the building, heading for the back where the Gift told him that there was a struggle in progress.
He darted down a narrow alleyway, dodging trash compactors and air-con units, and slowed before he took the next corner. It opened onto to a similar lane behind the bar, this one wider than the last. The opposite wall was tall and featureless, an industrial building of some kind.
Kyra had come to a stop, hands spread, as one of the three men at the far end of the alley let out a warning yell. His mates turned to look, and Tris moved up next to Kyra. All three of the men wore matching grey coveralls, he noticed. A pistol glinted on the belt of the closest; they’d have to move quick to stop this becoming a firefight.
In the middle of the group, he could just make out the girl whose panic had brought them out here. Her legs were bare, and fear rolled off her in waves.
Light and grit sifted down into the alleyway in roughly equal quantities. Even in the middle of the day, the air here had a perpetual orange haze to it.
“Get lost,” the lead man growled. An ugly scar ran down one side of his face. “This ain’t none of yer business.”
But the girl let out a yelp; the other two men were holding her by her wrists, and one of them slapped her across the face.
Tris felt the change in Kyra’s mood instantly. So far her hair had stayed a rainbow, as though she’d given up trying to hide her identity; now she made it black, with vibrant red slashes. That usually meant she was about to kill someone.
Her fingers inched closer to her sword hilts…
Then Lukas came jogging around the far corner, arriving behind the three men. He was puffing and wheezing — presumably to get their attention, as Tris knew he was in ridiculously good shape.
It worked. All three men spun to face him, one of them letting go of the girl to pull a knife from his belt.
Tris and Kyra advanced slowly, as the trio focussed most of their attention on Lukas.
“Shove off,” the man with the scar told him, moving around the group to place himself in front again. “This chick owes us, man. We’re just takin’ what’s ours.”
With the leader out of the way, Tris could see that the girl in question had one arm inside a long, dark brown overcoat, similar to what some of the miners inside were wearing. Beyond that, she had next to nothing on — just a silky purple nightie, which matched her long, plum-coloured hair. The man who still had hold of her also had hold of the coat. It looked like he’d been trying to peel her out of it when he’d been so rudely interrupted.
Lukas held up both hands, in the universal gesture of non-violence. “Hey, look. If it’s about the coat, you can take this one.” He shrugged his jacket off, holding it out to them.
“We don’t want your stinking jacket,” the leader said. “She borrowed that coat, and we paid her tab. She owes us cash, with interest.”
Lukas had been moving steadily closer, much as Tris and Kyra were doing. The big man was now close enough to make shooting him problematic. “Here miss,” he said, addressing the girl. “Take this.” He threw his jacket to her, and she caught it with her free hand. “Now give these nice gentlemen back their coat, and we can talk about the money you owe.”
“Ohhh no.” All three men were shaking their heads now, letting go of the girl and fanning out to give themselves more room. “That’s not how this works. Get your ass out of here, stranger, or you’re gonna regret it.”
Lukas stopped advancing, and spread his hands wide. “Not the call I’d be making, if I were in your shoes. You’ve seen the size of me, right?”
“Ha!” the leader spat into the dirt. “You wanna die today, be my guest. But I’m tellin’ yer, this skinny little whore ain’t worth it.”
Lukas rolled his shoulders with a crack. “Listen, mate. Last chance.” He plucked at his t-shirt, which had started out white but was rapidly becoming orange. It did absolutely nothing to disguise the slabs of muscle beneath it. “This came from a long way away, and it was a present from a friend. I really don’t want to get blood on it.” He poked a thick finger towards Kyra. “But see that chick there? She hates it when I take my shirt off.”
All three men glanced back at Tris and Kyra, suddenly noticing how close they’d gotten. Their eyes went wild, as they realised the bind they were now in. The leader snatched his pistol from its holster — just as Lukas’ fist connected with the side of his head. He flew across the alley, striking the wall with a sickening crunch. His friends stared at him, as he slumped to the ground — then they broke and ran, past Tris and off down the alleyway at top speed.
Kyra ignored the fleeing men completely. All her attention was on the girl, who’d been thrown to her knees when her captors took off. Tris got a read on her, finding her reeling in shock and still deathly afraid. Lukas offered her a hand, helping her to her feet. The long coat was left abandoned in the dirt. He took his leather jacket off her and held it open. Her arms were bare, and she slid them into it gratefully. It was hot out, but she was wearing next to nothing; Tris figured it was the protection she wanted more than anything.
Kyra wasn’t nearly so charitable. She grabbed the girl by the shoulder, spinning her around. “What the hell were you thinking? Getting mixed up with guys like that! You’re not even armed!”
“I… I…” the girl stammered. “I’m sorry! I had to leave home in a hurry, and I don’t have any local currency. I traded what I could, but those men offered to buy me drinks while I waited for my friend…” she trailed off, and Lukas put a protective arm around her. Tears began to stream down her face, and she sobbed as she leaned back against his chest. “Th… thank-you… I’m s… sorry…”
“Argh!” Kyra laced her hands in her hair, clearly furious. “What the hell are you doing here, kid? And how did you get my frequency?”
“F-from my mother,” the girl admitted. She was shaking now, as the adrenaline began to wear off. “I kn-knew you wouldn’t come if I s-signed the message.”
“Damn right I wouldn’t!” Kyra paced
the width of the alley — three angry strides, followed by three more back again. “You realise what you’ve done? What a risk this is? Sydon’s sake! I can’t believe I got dragged all the way out here for some teenage runaway!”
“No!” The girl was cowering back against Lukas, as though hoping she could disappear into him. “That’s not it! There was an attack on the palace.”
“So call the frikkin’ guards! You must have more of them by now.”
“They wouldn’t have been enough. The attackers were already inside. They sent men to get me… and my sister.” Her voice quavered on this, and she squeezed her eyes shut in private pain.
Kyra didn’t let up. “So why did you call me? Why didn’t you just fly to a different part of the city and wait for it all to blow over?”
“I’ve got the Gift,” the girl admitted. “No-one really knows about it, but… the ones who tried to kidnap me, I looked into their minds. And when they found I wasn’t in my room, both of them had the exact same thought: Viktor isn’t going to be happy…”
Kyra froze mid-stride. She couldn’t hide her surprise — or the flicker of dread that accompanied it. Blood drained from her face, the angry expression slipping away with it.
Taking advantage of the lull in conversation, Lukas cleared his throat. “Uh, you noticed those crappy grey uniforms, right? On a planet like this, that’s not a good sign. We should probably get a wriggle on…”
“Too late.” Tris was monitoring the mood inside the bar. It wasn’t hard to identify the rage of the men they’d just ousted — and even now, righteous indignation was spreading through a whole crowd of their buddies. “They’re already gathering their mates,” he said. “Looks like they’re going to wait for us out front.”
Lukas wafted the falling dust away from his face. “No problem. There’s at least two more directions we can take. We head out that way,” he jerked a thumb behind him, “and circle back through town to reach—”
“No.” Kyra had given up pacing now, and seemed to have composed herself. Her frustration had faded, replaced by something colder. “Those fucking nimrods threatened a member of my family. I want a word with them.”
Tris made a face at her. “Really? You know what a mess that makes…”
But he already knew that her mind was made up. Whatever the girl’s story meant to Kyra, it had clearly touched a nerve. She turned and strode back the way they’d come.
Tris lifted his eyes to heaven — regretting it instantly, as a grain of grit landed in his eye — and started after her.
He caught up with Kyra in front of the bar. As he’d predicted, a dozen or so of the grey-clad men from inside had gathered in front of the double doors. Most carried batons, which crackled menacingly; a few also had pistols strapped to their thighs.
“Bad plan,” Lukas cautioned, coming up behind Tris. His arm was around the girl’s shoulders. “Their company probably runs this planet. Butchering employees won’t make them happy, even if they are scumbags.”
Tris shook his head a fraction; there was no talking to Kyra, not now.
One of the gunmen squared up to her in the middle of the street, as his comrades drifted over in support. They arranged themselves behind him; he was clearly the man in charge, a heavyset bloke with a square jaw and eyes that had seen a lot of cruelty.
“I hear you’ve been bullying my men,” he said, his tone low and menacing. “Can’t have that. Not on my watch.”
“Your ‘men’ made a mistake,” Kyra replied coolly. “They placed their hands on this girl, uninvited.”
“And what’s it to you? You her mother?”
“Not quite. But I’m going to take her out of here, so you won’t have to worry about her any more.”
The man’s expression lit up, as though he’d found that funny. “Oh, are you! I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick, darlin’.” He pointed with his baton. “That little bitch is mine. She’s going to work off her debt on the end of my cock. Unless you fancy doing it for her?”
Tris winced. Oh dear…
But Kyra sauntered closer to her opponent, her hips swaying seductively from side to side. “You want me, do you? You want to show me what a real man’s like… inside…?”
He nodded, a hideous grin twisting his face. One of his men barked a laugh, and a few others called out or whistled.
“Give it to ‘er, Cap!” one yelled.
Cap held his baton out to keep her at arm’s length. “I won’t be gentle.”
“Neither will I,” said Kyra.
And she pulled her swords from her waist, slashing them across him in the same motion. The blades curved back, too fast for the eye to follow, adding a second strike before the first had registered.
And the man, who may or may not have been called Cap, fell apart.
Chunks of him slid in different directions, striking the sand-covered road with a series of thuds. Blood pooled, staining the orange dirt which absorbed it almost instantly.
Kyra shook her swords, flinging droplets across the rest of the men, all of whom were staring aghast at what had just become of their leader.
“You see?” she addressed them, gesturing with one ribbon-like blade. “That’s what a man looks like inside.”
EIGHT
A few seconds later, the street was empty.
It could have gone either way, Tris figured; either Cap’s men would want revenge on his killer, or they’d want to get as far away from her as possible. Given that there were at least fifteen of them, he’d been bracing for the rush — but apparently, seeing their boss thoroughly diced had discouraged any acts of bravery on his behalf.
They probably didn’t like him much anyway.
Kyra recoiled her swords, and beckoned to the rest of them.
“They’ll be back,” Lukas pointed out, “and there’ll be more of them. Ships too, I’d say. These companies, the higher up the ranks you go, the bigger assholes you find. No way they’re going to let this lie.”
“So stop moaning about it and get a move on,” Kyra told him. “And while you’re at it, please take your hands off the kid.”
“I am not a kid,” the girl complained, finally finding some spirit.
Kyra glared at her. “Okay then. Lukas, please take your hands off my niece.”
They ran back through the deserted town, with Tris scanning the buildings either side of them in search of an ambush. He found nothing — just the same unhappy people, contemplating their miserable lives and seeking what distraction they could in televised entertainment, or in each other.
The uniformed men had scattered, and he found no obvious trace of them nearby. When the glow of the storm-fence loomed ahead, he gave up and concentrated on running. The sandstorm was still raging endlessly beyond the protective perimeter. Surely the locals had a better way in and out of here? But there was no time to find out.
“Here.” Kyra handed her scarf to the girl, who gratefully wrapped it around her nose and mouth.
Tris put both hands over his face, bracing himself for the ordeal to come.
Lukas had a different approach. His t-shirt came off, exposing muscles honed and bronzed to indecent perfection. He quickly tore the shirt in two; then, giving Kyra a sidelong glance, into three. Tris accepted a strip of fabric and bound his head in it. Kyra held her strip away from her, making a disgusted face, before reluctantly tying it on.
And suitably attired, they entered the tempest.
Kyra led the way once more, using her bracelet to locate their parking spot. By the time they reached the ship, Tris’ face felt raw. There was no barrier around the landing field, like there was around the town; they could easily have walked right past it, blinded by the stinging sand.
They huddled together as Nightshade’s ramp lowered. But as Kyra gestured for her niece to head inside, the girl shook her head and pointed off into the distance.
Tris leaned closer to hear what she was saying.
“…I can’t leave it!”
&nb
sp; “It’s just a ship,” Kyra told her. “No way I’m leaving Nightshade here for those assholes!”
“It’s the only way back!” The girl was frantic. “It’s got my Ring codes!”
“Sydon’s sake!”
“I’ll go with her,” Lukas said. He was using his body to shield the girl from the worst of the storm.
Kyra’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “The hell you will!” She beckoned Tris, and yelled right into his ear. “Take her back to her ship, and follow me up to the Folly.”
“Can she fly?” he asked.
“You’re about to find out. Comm me when you’re ready to lift off, and keep your eyes peeled.”
“My whole body is being peeled!”
Kyra turned and headed up the ramp. Lukas gave Tris a measuring look, then delivered a shoulder-slap that nearly knocked him sprawling. It was fast becoming the big man’s trademark; Tris vowed to stand further away the next time encouragement was being offered.
As Nightshade’s ramp began to rise, her running lights came on. They barely cut through the storm, but the rough silhouette of another shuttle could just about be made out. Kyra’s niece headed that way, bent almost double, and Tris went with her. It was a short walk, fortunately, and the ship reacted to the girl’s presence by lighting up and lowering a ramp of its own.
They’d almost made it inside when another sound reached Tris’ ears; the shriek of an engine being pushed to its limits. A hazy glow was approaching from the direction of the settlement, growing rapidly.
“Shit!” He grabbed the girl around the shoulders and half-carried her up the ramp. As soon as they were out of the wind he let her go, and she slapped the hatch controls to seal them inside.
“Eurgh!” Sand poured from every part of her, and she danced a little jig to get the worst of it off.
“We’ve got to go now,” Tris told her, dusting himself down. He tapped his comm badge, opening a channel to Kyra. “We’re in, but I think the guys from the bar just showed up outside.”
Embers of Esper: A Sci Fi Adventure (Warden's Legacy Book 1) Page 6