#
Dinuth leads me, deeper than I have ever gone, into the forest. At over seven feet tall, he is plenty strong enough to carry Soleil. Still unconscious, she hangs draped over his shoulder, her avian head bumping gently against his back. I’m reminded of a chicken I saw as a child—a bird with a broken neck strung up on a line and swaying in the wind.
The forest floor gives way to bog, and the trees here show signs of dying—withered leaves on finger-like twigs and bark peeling away to reveal silvered heartwood. The stink of decaying vegetation rises around me, a miasma that clings like a damp, mouldy shirt. My boots mire in black mud, but it doesn’t slow Dinuth. Head down, he’s on a mission and it’s my problem to keep up. My bruised throat aches as I suck in urgent breaths.
The tree trunks grow blacker. The smell grows worse and then the forest parts.
The buru pauses at the edge of a dark lake. An errant breeze ruffles from across the water to kiss my brow, carrying with it the scent of stagnant salt. Dead trees circle the bank—white, skeletal limbs frozen in the rictus of death. But the black and white landscape pales in comparison to that which lies half-submerged in the lake.
A wreck, ten stories tall.
It’s all that remains of a buru scientific cruiser.
I’ve seen what they do in those transports…and it’s the same type of cruiser I saved Soleil from.
A chill crawls up my spine.
Nothing about this is good.
The visible portion of the ship’s hull towers over water that reflects like a mirror. A rusted metal skin, pitted with corrosion, rolls over the ship’s hollow bones. Ragged holes, bitter eyes of darkness, mar the structure just above the waterline.
“There is no way we are going in there.”
Dinuth turns. His brow furrows. “My workshop is inside. What we need to save her is there.”
“This is a buru science facility.”
“Once perhaps. Not now.”
I rest a hand on the pommel of my xiphos. “I’m not an idiot. Soleil and I go in there, we don’t come out the same.”
The alien’s gaze flicks to my hand then back. He shakes his head. “This facility was destroyed by a storm many years ago. The other buru have since dismissed it. You are safe here.”
“No, we are not. I heard them on the comms. They’re looking for this place.”
Again, Dinuth shakes his head. “No. They seek a different fallen ship. One that malfunctioned two days ago and fell closer to the ocean.”
So, this isn’t the wreck I was chasing.
“Please,” says Dinuth, voice anxious. “This delay may cost your friend her life.”
I glare at him. “She isn’t my friend. She’s my sister—or what your people left of her.”
The lines of Dinuth’s face deepen. His eyes lower a moment, long black lashes brushing his cheek. He clears his throat.
“A sibling, you say? And one with close-matching DNA, I’d hazard.”
“We are—were—twins,” I admit.
“Rare,” says Dinuth. “An important discovery. Interesting, though, that you were kept human and they changed her.”
“They didn’t do it on purpose. I was never captured. Soleil was.”
Dinuth frowns, eyes full of pity I don’t need from the likes of him.
“I see,” he says. “Still, fascinating that your familial connection was enough to keep her tame. Most others…” he glances at the forest “…turn to madness. She is a perfect specimen.”
“Specimen?” I spit. “She was a perfect human being!”
Dinuth’s lips press thin. “And perhaps she can be again. Come. Let me show you.”
I clench my teeth and consider pulling my blade as he presses two fingers to his lips. A long, low whistle echoes across the lake.
“Look,” he whispers, pointing to the wrecked ship.
A small, white face appears at the lower edge of the largest hole in the ship’s hull. The child waves a hand and then disappears.
An undeniably human hand.
An unbound human on a buru ship?
My curiosity is piqued. Humans are never allowed to roam free around buru. I’d raided enough ships in my search to find Soleil to know. I’ve seen terrible things. Humans chained and experimented on; the savageness of the resulting abominations—creatures I have no names for.
“Will you trust me or let your sister die?” asks Dinuth.
Soleil stirs on his shoulder and falls limp again.
I have no choice. “Trust? Never. But for my sister’s sake, I’ll come.”
“Good.”
Dinuth presses a button on the inside of his armored wrist. The edge of the lake boils in response. Black, stinking sediment rises, coiling just beneath the surface of the water. Then a small platform breaks clear. It stops, dripping mud, and hovers just above the lake’s surface. The buru leaps onto it and beckons. Against my better judgement, I follow.
#
The facility looks even more decrepit up close. The traveling platform halts outside the largest hole. The small, white, human face resolves into that of a young girl—well almost. She looks human except for yellow eyes and a dusting of rainbow-colored feathers where her eyebrows should have been.
“Dinuth!” cries the girl and launches herself to embrace the alien’s leg.
The buru places a large hand on her golden hair. “Well met, Jane. But we have guests who are injured. Run. Tell the others to prepare the vaccine chamber.”
Jane peeks around the alien’s muscled leg. “You’re lucky he found you, you know.” Then she smiles. “Don’t look so afraid. You’re safe here.”
#
The vaccine chamber is the one place so far on the ship that looks cared for. Rusted gantries and ruined quarters lined the journey to this room, but here the metal surfaces look newly made, gleaming like ice under the glare of acid white lights.
Dinuth places Soleil on a steel bench. He adjusts her wings and legs to rest comfortably and then reaches for a tube tied to a frame above. He inserts its needle end into her foreleg. My sister doesn’t move. I fear she is already dead.
He presses a button on a panel below the bench. Thick purple liquid courses down the clear tube and into my sister’s leg. She takes a deep breath and then settles back. The alien’s shoulders slump and his head bows for a moment.
“We made it. Your sister will live.” He sounds weary.
“What are you putting in her?”
Dinuth looks up. “Viperion vaccine.” He straightens. “I am a chemist. I have developed vaccines for most venoms from reptile-human mutations.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I developed them while trying to perfect the process for my other work.”
Uneasy, I swallow. “What other work?”
“I can show you.”
I glance at Soleil.
“Your sister will remain asleep for a short while. We will return before she wakes.”
I don’t want to leave her, but the need to have questions answered presses more urgently. I nod and Dinuth heads for the door.
Dim light filters down through the ragged holes in the hull to light the gantries. They crisscross the vaulted, cavernous space within the ship like tendons through a body. As we move deeper, the structures seem to be in better repair. But the stink of the lake lingers, a pervasive stench.
Dinuth’s boots clang against the metal grates. The light grows dimmer still as we move down another level. The black, oily looking lake ripples far below. Gently swelling, its surface catches light in places it shouldn’t. I’ll bet death lingers in that water. This ship is as good as a tomb.
The gantry ends at an access hatch. The use of many hands has worn rust off the handle. Dinuth pushes on it and the door creaks open. Inside is a balcony and staircase that looks over a room filled with white electric light and laughter.
Dinuth moves to one side as I step across the threshold. I stare in wonder at the group of human children clustered arou
nd a table. They are eating food I haven’t seen in many long years. The scents of garlic and warm bread make my mouth water—roasted mushrooms and lemon juice over warm, steaming fish.
How can there be humans here? I count at least ten in all. I glance back at Dinuth, lost for words. His lip quirks up, his blood-red eyes suddenly don’t seem so terrifying.
He holds a hand out over the scene. “My work,” he says. “A cure for mutation.”
My sister’s face flashes before me.
“You can change mutants back?” I whisper the words, afraid their truth is so fragile as to fade away.
“Well, almost,” says Dinuth. “The process has not been perfected. I am as yet unable to split away all the genetic modifications, but they are as close to human as they can get.”
I spot Jane at a far table. Her feathered brow glistens in the light. She seems human enough for the small addition not to matter.
“Why?” I ask. “Why would you mutate us if you mean to change us back?”
“I do not represent buru interests,” says Dinuth. “In their opinion, I would be considered a traitor.”
My eyes narrow. I consider his admission—try to work his angle. Why would he want these human children? Why would he collect them here? Is he trying to create a child army to draw out the last vestiges of humanity still resisting his kind?
Dinuth must sense my hesitation. “These children are here because it is not safe for them to reside outside. They would be captured again and the other buru would discover my work. They would come for me and destroy everything.”
“Why do you care about humans?”
Dinuth tilts his chin. “I was not always buru,” he says. “I came from another place—a peaceful world—also invaded by them. All my people were mutated into hybrid creatures—made into mindless warriors. I alone was permitted to keep my free mind because of my knowledge of chemical compounds. I could help the buru create new crossbreed species—make stronger soldiers for their armies. But to control me, they changed me—mutated me into their image.”
He grabs his own chin. “This is not the face I was born with. I know what it is to lose yourself, to have your essence corrupted.” His gaze grows distant. “So, I learned their methods. I perfected the science. And then I escaped. Now I work to at least give your kind back their identity. I wish to save humanity.”
And I believe him. I’m not sure why, but I do. I’ve killed a hundred buru in my quest to save my sister. Looked into those hundred pairs of eyes as the light faded from them. Never once have I seen the torment I now see in Dinuth’s gaze.
I glance back at the groups of children laughing below. “And you can do this for my sister? You can change her back.”
Dinuth nods. “I already have. I added the modifier to the vaccine. Your sister will be herself when you return.”
My chest squeezes and my eyes burn with tears I have held back for ten years. My sister. I’ll finally be able to tell her that I am sorry.
#
An explosion rocks the ruined vessel. The hull groans and a rain of rust, debris, and embers falls from the tattered hull. We collapse to the gantry, choking on the filthy air.
I cough. “What the hell was that?”
“Buru weaponry,” says Dinuth. “Missile by the sound of it. How did they find me?”
“I told you they were coming!”
The muscles in the alien’s cheeks bunch. He knows as well as I do that it doesn’t matter how they got here. We just need to get out.
Dinuth stands. “They’ll send in their mutants next. We need to get to the weapons store.”
“How far away is that?”
He points to the roof. “Maybe too far.”
I look up. Dusk’s red glow filters through the holes in the hull. Then the light disappears as a wave of shadows flood across. Shapes shift and blur. A horde of mutated bodies—an army—coming to snuff out the spark of hope that Dinuth has built here.
He places an urgent hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Please. Go back and protect the children. I’ll get your sister and additional weapons. We will make our stand in the common room.”
I hesitate, unsure. Do I get my sister and run or stand and fight with this buru traitor?
“Surely you trust me by now?” asks Dinuth.
“Okay.” I pull out my xiphos and hand it to him. He takes it, wide-eyed.
“I’ll give you five minutes,” I say, “then I’m coming to get my blade back from you.”
Dinuth’s smile is grim. He nods and turns, gone before I even know he’s left.
#
The children are huddled under tables pulled together in a type of fort. The younger ones are crying, tears falling down their smooth, pink cheeks. The older children stand ready with makeshift weapons—pots and kitchen knives. They tense as I enter.
“I’m here to help.” I move forward, but the children are wary.
“Who are you?” calls an older boy with slit-pupiled eyes like a lizard’s.
Jane crawls out from under a table. Her hair has fallen free of its ponytail. “She’s with Dinuth,” she says to the boy. “She’s got a sister here being changed back. We can trust her.”
The boy’s eyes narrow but then he nods. He hands me his kitchen knife.
I reach back and pull my shotgun free. I tap my belt and the eighteen cartridges stored there.
“Thanks, but I’ve got my own weapon.”
The younger children grow quiet, and the room falls silent but for the sound of breathing. Outside, mutants roam, claws clicking over metal and raucous voices screaming in languages that have nothing to do with being human.
The seconds pass. One minute turns to four. The tearing of metal screeches out closer than before; sounds like the hull is being sheared open.
Five minutes. Still no Dinuth.
I wrack my mind, trying to recall other buru ships I infiltrated in the past. My gaze slews to the far workbenches that serve here as the kitchen. The eyehooks welded into the surfaces are something I have seen before—this was a human bonding room.
There are large drainage ducts below those benches.
“Quickly, children,” I whisper as the noises outside the room grow louder. “To the benches.” I sprint the fifteen meters and drop to the ground. I take the knife off the boy and wedge the tip into the metal plate flooring. A grated panel slides free to reveal a dark passage below.
“Get in here,” I say to the huddled children. “These ducts will conceal you while I go to find Dinuth. Crawl down as far as you can.” I hand the knife back to the boy. “When you reach water, start prying at the side panels. They’ll open to the hull’s skin. Swim for the forest.”
“But there are monsters there,” whimpers Jane.
“There are more monsters here,” I say. “You have a better chance of survival hidden in the trees.”
I look to the older boy. “Get them across the lake and into the forest. Head north until you find the corpse of a female snake mutant. Go about sixty meters further on into the undergrowth. Behind the wild ginger clump there’s a hatch to underground bunker—my home. Hide there and we will come for you.”
The boy nods and disappears into the duct. The others follow.
Only Jane hesitates. “Promise you will come for us?”
A smile is all I have to comfort her. “I promise.”
She disappears into the hole. I replace the plate and stand. Time to find Dinuth and my sister.
#
The ruined ship crawls with mutants. Viperions, griffinous, and others I cannot name, but all equally as terrifying. I cling to the shadows easing my way along the gantry towards Soleil’s room. My gun is loaded and ready to fire.
Ahead, a commotion. A group of humanoid insects, by the look of their diaphanous wings, faceted eyes and black exoskeletons. They batter at a door with a rusty beam, chittering and cackling as the door shudders with each hit. Something in there has drawn their attention. It can only be one thing.
I aim and fire. The first shots plow into the mutants. Some fall and others flit away to hover in the darkness. I reload, the pump action sliding smoothly. I fire again, surging ahead. My back meets the damaged door. I yell out.
“It’s me. Let me in!”
The door creaks open and Dinuth pulls me through. The metal panel slams shut and the hatch is sealed.
“Where are the children?” he snarls. His armor is scratched and mired with blood. The fight to this room doesn’t seem to have been easy.
“Getting off this ship.”
“You have as good as murdered them!”
“No,” I growl back. “I gave them a chance to live. We’ll die if we stay here.”
Dinuth scowls but what can he do? He swings away. A vial of vaccine glistens purple at his belt.
The battering outside starts again.
He turns back, face resolute, and steps to one side.
But I barely see him.
Because she is standing just behind him, dressed in buru armor and with my xiphos held tightly in her right hand.
Soleil.
Tall, blonde, and eyes like a summer sky.
My sister is human again.
Almost.
At her throat, she wears a collar of pure white feathers.
“Aster?” Her voice is a whisper, as if she has forgotten how to speak our language.
“Oh god,” I sob. Tears brim over and my throat feels dry. So many things to say but the hammering outside grows more insistent.
Not nearly enough time to say it all.
So, I holster my gun and run to her.
She feels bird-like and featherlight in the circle of my arms.
“It’s okay,” she whispers into my ear. “I know and I love you, too.”
But no time to linger. I pull back and smile at her. “Ready to hunt?”
She nods, grinning, and together, we turn to face the door.
Soleil wields the blade. I hold the shotgun. Dinuth, unable to secure other weapons, has only his blaster but, old as it is, I doubt it’s worth the metal it’s made from.
The door buckles. Another hit and it skews sideways, ragged lock left hanging. The insects outside see us through the gap. They grow agitated. Claws rake at the opening, wings clatter and batter like panels of fragile plastic against the door pillar.
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