by Chris Sapp
He found the second blade. It was worse than he feared. The blade was imbedded into the bone. That’s why this one had hurt so much more. His claws weren’t strong enough for that so he left the wound alone and lit the Fenix Tail he’d never gotten the chance to smoke. The warmth of the cigarette smoke calmed his nerves and soothed the ache in his thigh. By the time he was done with his smoke, he eyelids were too heavy to keep open.
IZABEL
“DAMNIT, THIS IS my last one,” Roe said, showing the empty package to Vi. “I’ve got two cartons back on the ship.” He started forward but Izabel stopped him.
“Wait, I’ll get it,” Izabel said. “It’s on the table, right?” she asked. As far as she knew, Roe wasn’t out of smokes, he was just trying to buy time. Good thinking.
“Yeah, here,” Roe said, tossing her the keys. She caught them with one hand and turned back towards Roe’s cruiser. She opened the hatch and fought the urge to run up the lowered ramp.
“You have sixty-seconds,” the Vampyr bitch said. “Flynn, go with her.”
Izabel cast a quick glance over her shoulder and saw Flynn following behind her. He was one of the biggest and scariest looking centaurs she had ever seen. Plus, he was carrying a shotgun. Damnit! She should’ve known that she wasn’t going to be allowed to enter the ship alone. As she entered the cargo hold she looked around for something, anything that she could use to knock Flynn, the scary Centaur, out with. There was nothing. No discarded crowbars or pipe wrenches. Not even a board from an unused shipping crate. Damn Roe for being so tidy. The only thing in Roe’s cargo hold were a few empty stray cages. Flynn looked like he had more brawn than brain but she seriously doubted that he was dumb enough to allow her to lock him in one of the cages. Plus, he was armed. So, if she did somehow managed to lock him up he could still shoot her through the bars. No, she needed him unconscious or unaccounted for. Her eyes fell on the escape pods and she got a plan. A crazy plan.
She rushed into the open escape pod, putting her plan into action before she could talk herself out of it.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Flynn asked.
“I’ve gotta get out of here,” she told Flynn, giving him her best desperation act.
“What are you talking about?” The centaur asked.
“Driskell kidnapped me,” she said.
“He’s a bounty hunter. It’s his job,” snorted Flynn.
“Then why didn’t he turn me in and collect the bounty?” Izabel retorted. She could see the wheels beginning to spin behind his eyes.
“The bastard’s using me. Something about getting back at Magnus.”
“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, little one. We’ll handle Driskell,” he said.
“But he’s a Fenixborn…and didn’t he fight in a war or something?”
“Don’t make a shit. Driskell will detox just like anyone else,” shrugged Flynn. Izabel noticed that his chest seemed to be more puffed out now than it was a second ago. He was posturing for her. Yuck!
“You’re gonna detox him?” she asked.
“If he makes us.”
“Oh, thank you,” she exclaimed, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around his leg. “Thank, you,” she cried through fake sobs and tears.
“There, there,” he soothed, patting the top of her head. She choked back laughter. He was huge and he smelled. Bad. Apparently, he didn’t bathe as often as he ate. If her plan was going to work then she had to act now while he was distracted. Izabel scurried forward past his legs before he could trample her. She ran out of the escape pod, shutting the hatch on her way out. He glared at her through the port hole and she gave him the finger before jettisoning the pod into Terra Gigas’s skies.
Izabel charged into the cockpit of Roe’s ship at a full-run. Her boots leaving black skid marks on the polished floor. She jammed the key into the ignition console and fired up the engines. Her fingers pecked furiously at the command keys as she ordered the guns on the outside of Roe’s cruiser to do an automatic perimeter sweep. She smiled when she heard the guns roar to life. She watched through the cockpit as several of the centaurs were ripped to shreds. The rest of the entourage fled. Izabel’s momentary glee disappeared when she saw Roe and the Vampyr fighting. The bitch had her knives out.
There was no way she was going to leave without Roe. She had to find a way to help him out. But how?
She stared out of the cockpit. The guns had stopped shooting now that all of the targets were either dead or hiding. The ground was pock-marked from stray bullets and the pockets of dust drifting lazily through the air gave Izabel an idea. She pulled back on the control yoke, lifting the large cruiser into the air. It had the desired effect. A halo of swirling dust was formed around the cruiser. She rushed out of the cockpit and down the ramp. Shielding her eyes against the flying grit, she stood on the ramp and waited for Roe. The Fenixborn was smart. He would figure out what she was doing and use it to his advantage. Through the haze she saw a figure. It was Roe and he was running towards her. She smiled.
Then he fell to his knees. She couldn’t tell what happened. All she knew was that he was in pain. She had leaped off the ramp and started towards him before she even knew what she was doing.
“No!” Roe yelled. “Go! Get out of here!” His words were difficult to make out against the roar of the engines and swirling sand. But there was no mistaking his actions. He was waving her back, towards the ship and away from him. He wanted her to leave. But she couldn’t. She was frozen. They were getting so close to the truth. She was dying to know what was on the Harbinger-vid, but how could she possibly leave Roe after everything he’d done for her? She was about to say to hell with it and dart forward but the shadowy figures coming up behind Roe changed her mind. If she tried to save Roe, they would both be captured. He knew it and so did she. There was only one thing left to do.
“I’m sorry,” she said and fled up the ramp and back to the cockpit. Izabel plopped down in the seat, jerked the yoke back and continued to accelerate, pushing the cruiser into Terra Gigas’s atmosphere. Izabel used the ship’s naviguide to plot a course for Arktikus and then she set the controls on autopilot.
ACCORDING TO THE naviguide, Arktikus was as advertised, cold and desolate. She docked the ship in an open hangar at the planet’s one and only spaceport. A digital billboard welcomed her to Arktikus and informed her that the surface temperature was 8 degrees. Which meant that she needed to find Roe’s thermalskins if she planned on leaving the confines of the ship. Three closets later, she found them in a box on the top shelf. Izabel knew how thermalskins were supposed to work but she had never actually used one. She took the time to read the instructions on the outside of the package. Step one: apply the bonding spray to your bare skin. According to the instructions, someone of her height and weight only needed to use half the bottle. She used the whole thing, spraying every nook and cranny of her naked body. She had heard stories about people losing vital parts of their anatomy to frostbite because their thermalskins hadn’t sealed properly. The bonding spray was bright orange so it was easy to spot any places that she might have missed. The thermalskin itself was a black gel like substance that shimmered in the lights of the bathroom. The next step told her to press it against her bare skin. Holding her breath, she did. The gel was cold against her tummy and her flesh immediately broke out in goose pimples. She gasped when the gel began to heat up and then spread out in all directions across her body. She watched as the gel crawled across her arms and then encased her hands and all of her fingers. She turned her foot over and laughed as the gel tickled the soles of her feet. Within moments, she was covered from the neck down in the black gel, which then dried and hardened. The gel’s new appearance reminded Izabel of rubber and she expected that her flexibility would be close to zilch. But she was wrong. The thermalskin looked like rubber but it had the elasticity of silk. She could touch her knee to her mouth without any problem. Hell, she could even wiggle her toes. Satisfied that she was ready for th
e coldest temperatures Arktikus had to offer, she slipped a helmet over her head, waited for it to seal and then and opened the cruiser’s hatch. Snow flurries chased by the wind rushed into to greet her. Several of the tiny snowflakes died silently against the visor on her helmet. It looked miserably cold but she couldn’t feel a thing. According to the heads up display inside her helmet, it was 33 degrees inside the hangar but the thermalskin was keeping her body temperature at a toasty 98 degrees. The spaceport wasn’t deserted but it was close. She saw a few other people, wandering around, their species unidentifiable behind their helmets and thermalskins. They weren’t giving her much attention and she decided to do the same. She had used a directory to find what she needed on Aquila but that wasn’t necessary here. Besides docking bays, the Arktikus spaceport only had three things to offer; Arktikus Inn, which included a restaurant, Arktikus Savings and Loans, and Arktikus storage.
Izabel crossed to the storage facility. The neon sign hanging above the office door cast pink shadows on the white snow. The temperature inside the office was only six degrees cooler. The office was small. A wooden desk occupied the wall across from the entrance and a few chairs lined the other two walls. Sitting behind the desk, sipping a hot cup of coffee and reading a datapad was the most grizzled Frostfang Izabel had ever laid eyes on. Three large scars ran diagonal across the wolf’s face. These scars were so deep that the hair had stopped growing and the Frostfang’s pink skin was clearly visible. The wolf’s eyes were blue but only the right one glowed. The left one was half closed and very milky. The Frostfang had also lost a chunk of ear somewhere and the third claw on his right hand. The name tag on the wolf’s vest read: Jedrek.
“Welcome to Arktikus Storage. Picking up or dropping off?” asked Jedrek, without looking up from his datapad.
“Uh…picking up?” Izabel stammered.
“What’s your unit number?”
“1138,” answered Izabel, repeating the number Vera had given her.
“What was that number?” asked the Frostfang, his coffee and datapad which had been so intriguing only moments ago, was now forgotten. His good eye bore into her and it sent a chill down her spine that her thermalskin couldn’t block out.
“Uhmm…1138,” she repeated.
He continued to stare at her for what was probably only seconds but felt like years.
“Am I at the wrong place?” she asked, when she’d finally had enough of his staring.
“No. Follow me,” he downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp. The cup was still steaming when he sat it back down. He retrieved a ring of keys out of the drawer and then came around the front of the desk. Without another word, he left the office and out into the hangar. The Frostfang led her behind the office building where a hoversled built for two waited. He climbed in and started the engine. Izabel didn’t follow. She wasn’t getting a good vibe from this werwolf and she definitely didn’t like the idea of getting into a hover sled with him.
“Get in. I won’t bite,” he said. Izabel still didn’t move. “Bad joke for a werewolf, I know,” he smiled. Seeing his large fangs did nothing to relieve her anxiety.
“All of our storage units are located deep within in the Arktikus Mountains,” he told her. “This is the fastest and safest way to get there.”
Despite the wolf’s poor attempt at humor, Izabel still didn’t like the vibe she was getting from him. But if she wanted to get to the unit, then she’d have to ride along. She climbed in and had barely clicked her seatbelt together when the Frostfang hit the gas. The hoversled took off like a rocket. They darted through the hangar and out into the open land that was Arktikus. They cruised along at 120mph only a foot above the snow. Izabel’s helmet told her that the outside temperature was holding steady at 8 degrees. She folded her arms across her chest even though she couldn’t feel even a hint of the cold. The high speed and howling wind whipping past them made conversation impossible. Which was just fine with Izabel because there wasn’t a subject in the galaxy that she wanted to discuss with the Arktikus storage employee. Despite his awkward bedside manner, the Frostfang was very good behind the wheel. A less experienced driver would have to travel at a much slower speed to avoid the planet’s rocky terrain. Only when they approached the base of the mountain did she became alarmed. The Frostfang wasn’t slowing down and there seemed to be nowhere to go. If he didn’t slow down they were going to crash right into the side of the mountain. Izabel grabbed the edge of the hover sled and was about to jump out when she felt a strong hand pull her back in. The hoversled didn’t collide with the mountain. They passed through it. One moment they had been outside the mountain and the next, they were inside of it. The Frostfang brought the hoversled to a stop next to an elevator made of clear glass.
“What the hell?” exclaimed Izabel.
“Relax,” said the Frostfang. “It was just a projection. The whole mountain is fake. It’s one of the many ways we protect your property.” Once her heart returned to the confines of her chest and resumed its normal rhythm, Izabel looked around and realized that the Frostfang was telling the truth. There was no mountain. Even in the dark, she could make out the framework of the enormous projection screen all around her.
“Impressive,” she said, climbing out of the hover sled. “But it was still a dick move.”
“Tough crowd,” snorted the wolf.
He crossed to the glass elevator and used a key on his ring to unlock it. They boarded and when the doors closed a control panel that was not visible from the outside appeared on the wall to the right of the door.
“Unit number 1038?” asked the Frostfang.
“1138,” Izabel corrected.
“That’s right.”
Izabel watched as the wolf punched 1…1…3…8 into the control panel. The elevator lowered into the ground and the sensation of falling, heighten by the glass floor, was so overwhelming that Izabel sank to her knees and squeezed her eyes shut. She heard the Frostfang laugh and she hated him for it. Finally, after what felt like one thousand, one hundred and thirty-eight years of agonizing torment, the elevator stopped. Izabel opened her eyes and saw that they had arrived. The Frostfang exited the elevator and she followed. Rows of storage units lined both sides of the large room. The numbers 1138 had been stenciled in white above the door of the unit directly in front of them.
“Are you gonna open it up?” Izabel asked when the Frostfang didn’t approach the control panel with his handy ring of keys.
“I don’t have a key,” he replied.
“Well, I sure as shit don’t have one,” she said, not caring about the venom in her voice. She was tired of the wolf’s games.
“Place your hand on the touchscreen,” he instructed.
“What?”
“Just do it.”
Sighing, and giving him her best evil eye, she turned toward the control panel and placed her hand on the touchscreen. When she did, the Arktikus Storage logo on the screen disappeared and the image that replaced it stole her breath. It was her father.
“Greetings, Welcome to my storage unit,” said Phaelan Lennox’s image. “To begin, open the drawer located below this screen.”
There were no handles on the drawer, like the screen, it was activated by touch. She pressed her index finger against the metal and it slid open. Since the moment she had arrived on Arktikus the day had been full of surprises and the contents of the drawer was no exception. It was an Orville electric guitar and a single guitar pick.
“To gain access to my storage unit, you must perform the song 'Guts Over Glory using the musical instrument before you,” explained Phaelan. “ You must play the song in its entirety without a single mistake. Any erroneous cords will result in automatic lockout for 48 hours. Only proper use of the instrument will grant you entry. The instrument is hardwired directly to the door. Tampering of any kind will result in automatic lockdown of the entire facility and the authorities will be notified immediately. If you still desire entry, pick up the guitar and begin.”
Phaelan’s image disappeared. Izabel glanced at the Frostfang. His face was impossible to read. She lifted the guitar out of the drawer and slipped the strap over her head. She grabbed the pick but she didn’t start playing, not yet. She wasn’t ready. Cold air blasted her face as her helmet fought to regulate her rising body temperature. It was 10 degrees inside the faux mountain and she was sweating.
She knew how to play a guitar. Hell, she knew how to play one well. But she was more nervous now than when she had been standing on Spanky’s stage. Guts Over Glory? Really? She knew the song. It was the forth track on The Phaes’s third album Mortal Witness. But it wasn’t one of their biggest hits. It was only notable because of it’s insane guitar riffs and seven minute length. Only diehard fans ever listen to the whole thing and only fanatics attempted to play it. Well, if there was ever a diehard fanatic of The Phaes, it was her…the daughter of the band’s lead singer.
“You got any change on you?” Izabel asked the Frostfang.
“Why?”
“Cuz, I need a credit coin to play this guitar,” she explained.
“I’m not a musician, but aren’t you supposed to play the guitar with the pick that’s lying in that drawer there?”
“Normally, but in this case the pick’s a ruse. My da—Phaelan Lennox played this particular song with a coin. So, do you have one or not?” Izabel asked.
“It just so happens that I do.” Smiling, the Frostfang reached into his vest and retrieved a credit coin. He thumbed it to her and she caught it. As she gripped the coin between her thumb and index finger, she noticed that it looked old. The color was grimy and faded. Out of curiosity, she looked at the date and saw that it had been in circulation as long as she had been living. She glanced at Jedrek but as usual his face was unreadable.
Exhaling heavily, Izabel almost struck the first chord. But she stopped herself at the last second. Shit! She had almost screwed this whole thing up with the first note.