"Buy yourself another bottle," Bay said.
The drunkard nodded and retreated with the money. The sleazy transformer huffed and turned away in disgust.
Luther raised an eyebrow. "Not the best use of your scryls. You should have insisted he used the money on some hot soup."
"I could," Bay said. "But he'd buy grog anyway. That bottle was probably the only thing he owned in the world."
They walked down the street, stepped over an unconscious junkie, and approached a metal gateway. Behind the barred gates, a road stretched toward the hangar Bay had seen from the sky. From down here, the building seemed larger, a black monolith pumping smoke, its narrow windows staring like serpentine eyes.
A guard stood there, a hulking creature with stone skin. The brute stood nine feet tall, each arm the size of a man.
"Leave," the stony guardian rumbled, voice rolling with waves of bass. The voice was so deep and loud Bay felt the sound waves hit his body.
Luther leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "Pebbles? That you? My Ra, you were only a stone last time I saw you. No larger than a flower pot."
The humanoid boulder rumbled. "Leave! This place is forbidden."
"Pebbles!" Luther said. "Don't you recognize me? It's Old Luther. Well, I wasn't so old back then." He barked a raspy laugh.
Bay's jaw unhinged. "The giant, man-crushing, sentient boulder is named Pebbles. Perfectly sane, this place."
The living boulder rumbled. "Be gone!"
"Pebbles, really!" Luther said. "I'm good friends with Akira, your master. Call him over, why don't you?" Luther raised his voice. "Akira, you there?"
The stony guard roared. He raised stony fists and took a step forward, shaking the ground. The beast swung a fist the size of a Christmas ham.
Bay leaped forward and shoved Luther aside. The old man hit the ground, saved from the swinging boulder.
The stony fist slammed into Bay's arm—thankfully, the prosthetic arm. The gears bent, and the wood cracked. Bay yowled as the limb blasted electricity up his stump's nerves.
He raised his rifle, but the stone fist grabbed the barrel.
Bay fired.
His bullet embedded itself into the stone fist. Pebbles roared, grabbed Bay with both hands, and lifted him overhead. Bay grimaced. The stone fists were crushing him, creaking his ribs.
But surely this creature wasn't entirely made of stone. It had to be a living being, organic on the inside.
Sucking in air, Bay raised his prosthetic—or what was left of it. Despite the damage, it was still operational. Bay placed the metal hand against Pebbles and flipped a switch.
A bolt of electricity shot from the limb—and into the stone.
Stone that, thankfully, had a high metal content.
The giant roared and released his grip. Bay hit the ground, raised his metal hand, and fired another bolt. The electricity arced into Pebbles, knocking him back. The rock monster fell down hard, shaking the street. A crack raced across his stony body, confirming Bay's suspicion. Blood was leaking out.
Breathing raggedly, Bay cocked his rifle and aimed at the crack, prepared to finish the job.
A flash of green.
A shrill cry.
Something slammed into Bay, knocking him down.
"Don't you hurt him!" rose a high, feminine voice. "I'll blow out your mucking brains!"
Bay groaned and blinked, bringing the world back into focus.
A young woman was kneeling above him, holding a pistol. Her knee was digging into his belly, keeping him pinned down. The woman was young, perhaps twenty years old. She had olive-toned skin, slanted dark eyes, and straight black hair cut to the length of her chin. She wore green leggings, two bandoleers over a white shirt, and a dark overcoat with many pockets.
A human? Bay thought, looking at her.
No. On closer inspection, she was not fully human. When she snarled, she revealed fangs, and claws sprouted from her fingertips. A tail flailed behind her, long and leathery like a whip, tipped with a stinger like a stingray. Bat wings rose from her back. Her pupils were catlike, her face vaguely feline.
"A starling!" he said.
The starling sneered and pointed the pistol at his forehead. "Who the hell are you, human?" She spat out the last word as an insult.
"Starflare?" Luther rose to his feet, joints creaking, and limped toward them. "Starflare, is that really you?"
The young woman spun toward him, keeping her pistol fixed on Bay. Her eyes narrowed.
"Who are you?" she demanded. She drew a second pistol and pointed it at Luther.
The old man raised his hands. "It's me, Starflare! It's Luther. You know, Big Blue. Your pa's friend. I used to make you pancakes. Blueberry was your favorite. I taught you a few licks on the guitar."
The young woman's eyes widened. "Luther! It must have been …"
"Fifteen years." He nodded. "You were only a yea high."
Bay looked at the young woman and guffawed. "Starflare? Your name is actually Starflare? First Pebbles, now this. Does everyone on this world have a ridiculous name? So what are you—a superhero or a My Little Pony?"
She growled, looked back at Bay, and cocked her pistol. "Shut up, human!"
"Okay, Starflare," he said, swallowing another guffaw.
She bared her fangs. "I'm no human like you. I'm a starling. I don't need some silly human name. I'm outcast from society! Unwanted by both humans and aliens. A hybrid. A freak." She snorted. "Never had anyone to give me a real name. So I chose a name for myself."
"And you chose Starflare." Bay nodded. "Was Galaxyfire unavailable?" He looked at Luther. "Hey, Luther, you're a starling. Did you know you're not supposed to have a regular name? Maybe you can be Moonflower."
Luther sighed. "All right, all right, you two. Starflare, take the gun off the kid. He's got so little brains they ain't worth blowing out of his skull. Bay, you lay off the taunts. Starflare is good people."
With a grunt, Starflare holstered her pistols, then removed her knee from Bay's stomach. She turned toward the fallen Pebbles. The stone giant lay by the gateway, clutching his wound and moaning. Starflare's eyes softened, and she stroked the beast.
"My poor Pebbles," she whispered. "The bad human hurt you, didn't he?"
Bay sat up, groaning and rubbing his torso. "This bad human probably has a cracked rib from poor Pebbles' giant stone fists."
The starling ignored him. She pulled a canister from her pocket, shook it, and sprayed foam into the stone giant's wound. The bleeding stopped, and the foam hardened, sealing the crack. Pebbles rose to his feet, shedding dust.
"Always carry around mortar-in-a-can!" Bay said. "Useful for fixing potholes, castle fortifications, and homicidal stone giants."
Starflare looked at Luther. "Does the pup always talk so much?"
The old bluesman nodded. "He talks a lot when he's nervous. He gets nervous around girls."
Bay's cheeks flushed. "He gets nervous around golems who try to crack him like an egg!"
"Starflare." Luther stepped closer to the young woman. "Is your father …"
"Dead." She nodded. "Been dead for ten years now. The Ketsueki Klan murdered him. My mother too." Suddenly her eyes were damp. She dried them with her fists and raised her chin. "But I've kept the place going. We're stronger than ever, and we're still open for business. Come inside. We'll talk."
The young starling turned around. Tail swishing, she walked through the gate and into the compound. Bay and Luther followed.
They walked across a courtyard between guard towers and barbed wire. A host of starlings were here, each one different. One man looked human aside from his massive arms; they could have put Popeye to shame. He stood in the courtyard, pounding a boxing bag of solid iron, leaving imprints in the metal. Several youths with flaming eyes, forked tails, and horns leaned against a fence, smoking and grogging. One starling looked like a centaur; she had the upper body of a woman, the lower body of a quadruped. She was galloping around the courtyard, firing
arrows at a target. A few other beings perched on the hangar's roof. Their skin was stony, and they sported fangs, claws, and wings, appearing to the world like gargoyles.
Bay leaned toward Luther. "What happened to them?" he whispered.
Starflare, who was walking several steps ahead, turned around. She gave Bay a strange look.
"We're all different," she said.
"I'm sorry," Bay said. "I didn't mean to pry, didn't—"
"Think I could hear?" Starflare smiled crookedly and pulled back her hair, revealing large, pointy ears. "I have good hearing. My masters gave my family this hearing. My father was a prisoner of war. A human once. Aliens captured him, experimented on him, tried to turn him into a super-soldier. A killing machine they could sic on their enemies. They gave him better hearing. Wings. Claws. Fangs. They tore through his DNA, not even caring that it weakened him, gave him years of cancer after cancer." Her fists clenched. "He passed his curse to me. I too am doomed to die young. But while I'm here, I'm strong. And I protect those I love." She gestured across the yard. "Look at them! They're all starlings. Part human, part … something else. Some are the products of genetic experiments. Others are mutants. A few have origins we don't know. Niraya is a world for the lost. And here, in this compound, are the most miserable among us. Those who are freaks with human blood. We are the lost among the lost."
A child tottered across the yard toward her. He had the body of a boy, but he moved on eight legs like a spider.
"Starflare, is Pebbles okay?" the child said. "I heard him cry. He's my best friend."
Starflare knelt and kissed the spider child. "He's fine. He was hurt, but I healed him." She glared over her shoulder at Bay. "Nobody will hurt him again."
Bay rolled his eyes. "If you're trying to make me feel bad, it won't work."
Starflare led them into the hangar, and Bay's eyes widened.
"By Ra," he whispered.
The hangar seemed even larger on the inside. Rows and rows of shelves stretched into the distance, all topped with weapons. There were rifles. Pistols. Machine guns. Boxes of grenades. Crates of bullets rose toward the ceiling. Other crates held artillery shells. There were laser guns, plasma guns, knives, swords, even a shelf with electric nunchucks.
"There's enough here for an army," Bay whispered.
Starflare nodded. "Yep. If it's small enough to lift, and it can kill an alien, we got it. We sell it. But not to you."
Bay was reaching for a bayonet. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away.
"Why not?" Bay glared at her.
Starflare scoffed. "I don't sell guns to idiots."
Bay bristled. "Then sell them to Luther! He's not an idiot." He turned toward Luther. "Tell her!"
The old man sighed. "Starflare, you still got your pa's old office around? Let's sit down. I've got a flask of good grog in my pack. Expensive stuff. Polarian ale. Worth more than I am. Let's have a drink and talk."
Starflare's anger left her eyes. Her voice was soft. "My dad loved Polarian ale." A sigh flowed through her. "Luther, I can't sell you guns. But come. Let's drink and talk. I want to explain why."
They entered an office. Ducts and pipes snaked across the ceiling, and the walls were raw brick. Starflare sat at her desk, while Luther and Bay took chairs across from her. A photograph of a family hung on the wall. The father had horns, claws, a jaw full of fangs, and leathery wings; he seemed more monster than man. His wife was a pretty woman in a kimono. A human woman. The child in the photo was only a toddler, but there was no mistaking Starflare, a child halfway between ghoul and girl.
"These belonged to my father." Starflare took crystal cups from her desk drawer. They were shaped like skulls. "He loved these cups. I always thought them gruesome. But he thought they looked like giant scryls."
"May I?" Luther said, opening his flask.
Starflare nodded, and Luther poured drinks. The liquid was deep amber and smelled beautiful, but Bay refused a cup. He had been off the grog for a few years now, and he wasn't about to fall back into that black hole.
It was a drink meant to savor, but Starflare downed hers. She put down the empty skull.
"Do you know how I've kept this place running on my own?" she said.
Luther shook his head.
"I stayed out of trouble," Starflare said. "I became very choosy about my clients. I loved my father. But he was never choosy. He never asked questions. If you had enough scryls, he'd sell you guns. And I'd hear stories." Starflare lowered her head. "Stories of dead children. Of rebellions crushed, villagers slaughtered. Of gangs butchering one another." She looked up again, eyes damp. "He never heard these stories. He didn't want to hear. Until a rival gang burst into this office. Until they made him hear. He was sitting in this very chair when they put a bullet through his head. They kept my mother alive for a few hours. They made me watch." Ghosts haunted Starflare's eyes. "Then she too was gone."
Luther's eyes softened. "I'm sorry. Your mother was a dear woman who deserved better. Your father was a good friend."
"But not a good man," Starflare said. "Does it surprise you to hear it? I know it. I loved him. I miss him. But I know it. So I try to be different. I try to be … good."
"We're as good as it gets!" Bay leaped to his feet. "We're fighting the good fight. For Earth! For humanity!"
Starflare turned her feline eyes toward him. Her tail flicked. "And what is humanity to me, boy? Humans see me as a freak. An alien. I know. My mother was human. After she died, her family disowned me. Don't try to sway me with talk of humanity." She clenched her fists. "Humanity means nothing to me."
"That's not true," Bay said. "If it were, your fists wouldn't be shaking. Your eyes wouldn't be damp. Humanity means a lot to you."
Now it was Starflare who leaped to her feet. Her chair clattered back.
"Humans cast me out!" she shouted. "Do you know what that's like? I was only twelve when my parents died! I went to my mother's family. They are human, yes. They lived in hiding. But they had a good home on a good world. A cave full of light and warmth. Locals who kept them hidden from the scorpions. Safety. Comfort. And they cast me out!" Tears flowed down her cheeks. "They said my mother married a monster. That she gave birth to a freak." She let out a roar. "But I don't care! Because I'm strong. I have a home—here, in this place my father built. I don't need anyone else. None of us on this world do! You would never understand."
She ended her speech. Silence filled the office.
Bay looked at Luther, who seemed very old and sad, then back at Starflare. The young starling stood with her head lowered, her fists clenched.
Bay spoke softly. "I'm sorry."
Starflare snickered. "Spare me. You're not the one who banished me."
"But I'm human," Bay said. "And so is your mother's family. I'm sorry on their behalf. On our behalf. We humans … we're not unlike the lost of Niraya. We too are treated as freaks, as monsters. We're hunted across the galaxy. Hated. Feared. And we should have known better. For humans to behave like your family …" Bay shook his head. "It's not right. I'm sorry that happened to you, Starflare. You deserved better. And we should be better."
Her jaw relaxed, and she uncurled her fists. She looked at Luther.
"Pour me another please," she said.
He poured. Luther and Starflare drank. Bay tried to ignore the intoxicating smell.
Luther looked at the photograph on the wall. "He was a damn fool, your pa. Now, now! Don't get angry. You know it's true. I loved him too. We both did. But I knew he was a fool. It's why I left, you know. Why I moved across the galaxy and started my own business. Because I didn't want to sell weapons to no killers. I didn't want any dead kids on my conscience." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, suddenly looking a decade older. "It ain't an easy thing, being an arms dealer. Not if you have a heart. Some days, working here, I thought my heart was hard. That it was pure iron, like that boxing bag in your courtyard. But then we'd hear a story. Maybe of rebels who mowed down a village.
Or a child left orphaned in a gang war. Stories to make your blood run cold. And then I knew: I still had a heart. And that heart could no longer bear it."
Starflare nodded. "It's not easy."
"But there's also nobility in our profession," Luther said. "We do good in this cosmos too. The downtrodden. The weak. The hunted. We give them a way to fight back. The poor farmers, being butchered by invaders. The refugees, fleeing the predators. Those who cry out, helpless, their families and homes prey to the killers. We give them a gun, give them pride, strength, freedom. We make the weak strong. And that's noble, Starflare. Never forget that. Ours is a strange profession, for we deal in power. Great power can be used for great evil, yes. But never forget: It can also be used for good. Weapons can be used to kill. But they can also protect life. The best soldiers I know understand this. They carry guns so that they never have to use them."
Starflare reached across the table and touched Luther's gnarled hand. "That's why I do this."
"It's a funny thing, being a starling," Luther said, looking at the ceiling with his strange, star-shaped eyes. "We have no species. No homeworld of our own. It can be hard for us to understand. Concepts like patriotism, pride in your heritage—they're foreign to us starlings. But long ago, I met a man named Emet Ben-Ari. And at once, I understood. That he was a good man. A man who fought for a noble cause. So I sold him starships. Oh, they were just old tankers and freighters, and they had no cannons or shields. But that Emet—he turned them into warships. And he won battles. He united his people. He saved millions of lives." Luther gestured at Bay. "This is Bay Ben-Ari, his son. He's still young. He still has much to learn. But one thing I promise you, Starflare. Like his father, Bay is a good man. And he seeks to save lives. To give strength to the weak and downtrodden, and to see them rise tall."
Starflare's eyes hardened. "Humans! He wants weapons for humans!"
"The humans took me in," Luther said. "They ain't all bad. I've been living among them for almost three years now. And they're in trouble, Starflare. In real trouble. You heard about the war on Earth?"
The Song of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 5) Page 12