by SM Reine
The nearly transparent Padria was not much more than a wavery shape hunched over the map. The thin, pale Escolian reminded Aria of the Earth reptiles she’d learned about. Snakes. Two tiny beings she recognized as Janu sat perched on the edge of the table. And… Aria’s eyes widened. A Zorlian. Better known as a Shieldmaker, the Zorlian people had the ability to create force fields. Even her people didn’t understand the mechanics behind how they did it. Though, she had to admit, they still didn’t completely understand how some of the Maarlai were able to transport from galaxy to galaxy in a matter of seconds without the use of a ship. On Earth, they would have called it magic. She had no better explanation.
Aria nearly jumped in excitement. This was the solution. It could work. All she had to do was convince them not only to not turn her over to collect the bounty, but to actually help her. They could do it.
“This is Aria, Princess of the beings of the planet of Kinar-5. Also a Witness, obviously,” Rikar added. He met her eyes. “I am responsible for my crew. You will refer to them as one, two, three, four, and five,” he said, pointing to each of his crew members in turn, “until such time as I think you can be trusted to know their names.”
Aria nodded. She really didn’t care. He gestured for her to sit, and one of the Janu, the one he’d indicated as “three,” brought her a large bowl of what looked like a kind of stew. It was the best-smelling thing she’d ever experienced. She picked up the long sticks the Maarlai used as eating utensils and began eating, almost in a frenzy, forgetting, for a moment, that she had an audience.
“The Princess is quite hungry,” Rikar said, and she could hear the humor in his voice.
“Starving. Thank you,” she added before taking another bite.
There was silence for a moment. She knew they were all watching her, but she didn’t care. She could feel herself getting stronger with each bite. After a while, Rikar spoke.
“She wants us to save Earth,” he said.
“What’s going on with Earth?” the Padria asked in its lilting tongue.
“The Sarlene have succeeded in developing the technology to wipe it out,” Aria answered. “It has been Witnessed. My king was preparing to send one of his oldest Witnesses there to record its last moments.”
She took a final bite, and then set her utensils down. “I don’t think we should just sit by and let it happen. It’s wrong. So I ran away to try to find someone to help. My plans definitely did not include being stranded on an asteroid with space pirates.”
Aria watched as the group seemed to exchange looks.
“We knew this day would come,” the Padria said.
“Look, if you won’t help me, and I know you won’t, can you please at least get me somewhere where I can ask for help? I will try to find some way to make the bounty up to you. It will take time, but I’ll figure it out. This is more important than personal riches.”
The Zorlian, who she was supposed to refer to as “five,” studied her closely. “Is anything really more important than that? Or more important than fulfilling one’s duties to her own people?” she asked. The Zorlian language was not all that different from her own, the result of long years of contact between their two planets, Aria guessed.
“Of course,” Aria answered. “I am a disappointment to my people. I have failed as a Witness. But I refuse to just let this go.”
“Why?” the Zorlian asked.
Aria stared at her, dumbfounded and more than a little irritated. “Because those beings matter. They’re beautiful and imperfect and passionate and… the things they’ve created in their short time in existence! They’re phenomenal. Brilliant. They’re so individual, so independent and yet as a whole, they’re so beautiful I can barely stand it. I’ve studied them since I learned to read. Maybe even before that. I love them in a way I can’t begin to explain.”
Rikar and the Zorlian exchanged a long look, and the Zorlian shrugged. “It would not be overly difficult,” she said.
“Everything has a price,” Rikar said to Aria.
“Of course. And I already told you I’d find a way to pay you the money you would have made form the bounty—”
“Not money. Not this time,” Rikar answered.
“What, then?”
“Join us.”
Aria rolled her eyes. “What? Become a pirate?”
“I think you’re beginning to realize that we’re much more than that. Piracy funds us, but it isn’t the ultimate goal. We offer services no one else does,” Rikar said.
“Such as?”
Rikar grinned. “Such as saving planets from annihilation. Thwarting attacks. Providing shelter. That kind of thing.”
“If that is the case, then you would have helped Earth anyway,” Aria pointed out.
He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. We would not have known about the threat in enough time to do anything, unless we’d made contact with a Witness, who knows everything about everything. Would we?”
Aria studied him. Very few understood how the Witnesses worked. Their knowledge was a shared thing. Once something was Witnessed and recorded by one, it was transferred to the knowledge of the others. It happened automatically.
“Is this really what you do? Or are you playing an angle?” she asked Rikar quietly.
“This is what we do. What was the last planet doomed to destruction?” he asked Aria.
“Vashir,” she said automatically. It had been on the brink of annihilation due to its never-ending war against its neighbors, the Urah.
“And what happened?” Rikar pressed.
“The Urah leader disappeared— wait. That was you?”
Rikar nodded. Then he tilted his head toward the two Janu. “They are brilliant at what they do.”
“He’ll never be found,” one of the Janu, the one she was supposed to call “two,” said in a dreamy, airy tone.
“It disrupted things enough to buy Vashir time. And then the next leader of the Urah was convinced, somehow, to make peace with their neighbors,” Rikar said.
“So you’ll help,” Aria asked Rikar.
“There’s a price.”
“What is it?”
“A Witness on our crew. It would make our jobs easier. And it would protect you from any trying to collect your bounty.”
She didn’t know if he realized how little of a price it actually was. Freedom, the ability to travel the galaxies, to see those she studied in real life and to, crazy though it seemed, act to protect them? It was no price at all.
She nodded. “I accept.” As she said the words, she noticed the golden, pulsing glow that signified that a Witness was present. This moment had been deemed important enough for one of her kind to bear Witness to. It was unsettling and more than a little terrifying. But there had been no other choice at all.
The next day, Aria stood aboard Rikar’s ship, dressed in the same dark green clothing the rest of his crew wore. Rikar stood beside her, and they watched the Sarlene attack vessels crash and explode as they hit the invisible force field their Zorlian crew mate had formed around Earth.
“You saved them,” Rikar said. She met his gaze for a moment, then turned back to watch the last moments of the failed Sarlene attack.
“Are you at peace with your choice?” Rikar asked her. Aria smiled as she watched the final Sarlene ship crash and burn.
“How could I not be? Action is beauty,” Aria answered. The final bit of debris bounced off of the Zorlian’s shield, and then it was as if nothing had happened at all. The millions of people below, on the surface, lived and died, loved and created, oblivious to those who watched from beyond.
Aria hoped with all her heart that it would stay that way.
* * *
Colleen Vanderlinden is the author of the Hidden and Hidden: Soulhunter urban fantasy series, the Copper Falls paranormal romance series, and the StrikeForce superhero series. To learn more, please pay her a visit at colleenvanderlinden.com or on Twitter where she’s @C_Vanderlinden. Silent Witness is a prequel to
an upcoming series continuing Aria and Rikar’s story. The serial, Exile, is updated weekly on her website, and follows the story of the Maarlai people in the very distant future.
The Final Sunrise
Shawntelle Madison
The Final Sunrise
Trouble Knocks on My Door
Angry red lights flashed through the tiny window into my cryo-chamber where I lay. A breach warning. The metal seal groaned from the increased pressure. My open eyes slowly blinked. Bothering to close them was rather useless—I didn’t use the chamber to sleep.
The noise grew louder.
Was someone really trying to pry a deep-sleep chamber open without checking the contents?
My fingers flexed first. Next my toes on my bare feet. My gray body suit whispered as I reached up to touch the door. The feeding tube attached to my wrist, with a white fluid pulsing through it, extended. I couldn’t see anything outside though, the window was at chest-level and I was a bit taller than the standard issue units.
Muffled voices argued from the outside. The quiet hum of the Siren IV’s sounds were drowned away.
Hunger pooled in my stomach and wetness filled my mouth. After lying on the leather-cushioned bed for who knows how long, I hadn’t eaten a living meal for a while. Which meant the fish food attempting to yank my chamber open was about to get my foot shoved so far up their ass, it might get stuck there as my new boot.
I opened my mouth to speak, but my tongue was too thick. Would I even remember how to speak after who knows how many months? What could I even say? Hey, this stall is occupied, try the next one.
Only one kind of lowlife would try to open my chamber in a spaceship with a single occupant.
Piece of shit looters.
My jaw clenched as cracks formed along the outer edge of the seal. White emergency lights flickered on inside my tiny space, revealing the once murky corners. I closed my eyes, welcoming the darkness.
The metal was giving way.
When I opened my eyes again, I saw the claw marks along the sides of my chamber, the ripped fabric in my cushion.
I’d done all this when my mind got close to fracturing.
This was the safest place for me to find oblivion.
A gap formed, drawing my attention back to my intruders. “Almost got it,” a deep voice blurted in Terran English.
“Be careful, Viz,” a softer voice ordered. “Don’t damage the key!”
“Then why don’t you come do this shit. We haven’t got much time.”
Viz, if that was what his name was, crammed his crowbar into the tiny gap and grunted with effort to open it.
“How much time?” the woman asked.
An electronic voice said, “Ten minutes until the Hyperion unfolds space.”
What is the Hyperion? I thought. Another ship?
“Shit, they’re closing in,” the woman snapped. “Move it, Viz!”
“We need to take whatever we find in the cargo hold and get the fuck out of here!” he yelled.
“We need her! That’s all that matters. I’m not leaving this siren-class spaceship behind after chasing this damn thing for eighteen months.”
I’d been tailed for over a year? Which brought to mind an even more important question. How long had I been on the ship? Not for a few months, but much longer. I reached in the recesses of my mind for glimpses of the past, but I couldn’t find much. Just a murky fog. All I knew was the spaceship, my cryo-chamber, and nothing more.
The crowbar disappeared for a moment, and I caught the sounds of someone else trying to pry the door open. It was the woman.
A sweet smell wafted through the crack, stirring me further to life. A scent I couldn’t recall, but my body responded in kind. My empty, withered stomach pinched me hard. Claws formed on my fingertips and two sharp incisors filled my mouth.
I reached for the gap to help, but stopped myself.
The opening widened and a large, pale hand reached inside. “Find the lock release,” the woman advised.
I could practically count the scars along Viz’s hand, but the pulse point on his wrist had my utmost attention. The honeyed smell, intermingled with grease and body odor, grew overpowering. So metallic and sweet.
My mouth opened and my hands formed fists. I could practically taste the copper in his blood on my tongue. He’d make a fine meal.
Not yet.
If they’d boarded the ship, they had weapons. This would be my last meal if I latched onto his hand—not that he didn’t deserve to have it taken.
Viz reached around until he found the tiny control panel along the side. “Found it.” His fingers felt along the buttons until he encountered the latch. With a tug, the rest of the locks along my door gave way.
“Nine minutes,” the computer voice warned.
“Pay day coming, Leslie!” the man barked.
How about meal time instead?
Two sets of hands reached in to pull open the door. Saliva filled my mouth. The muscles along my legs tensed up. Wait for it.
The door swung open. A brief snapshot was all I needed: One healthy, unarmed, large male and one brunette female who was armed to the teeth. Both of them wore baggy, dark clothing. I sprang from my spot toward the larger form. We tumbled across the metal floor and my back hit the unforgiving surface. My teeth sank deep into a warm place: a few inches above his collarbone. Black chest hair tickled my nose.
Good grief, this guy had a sleeping rug on his chest.
A growl pulsed through me. The moment the life-giving fluid hit the back of my throat, Viz screamed.
“Viz!” Leslie pointed a weapon in our direction. “What the hell!”
I tore at him, opening an artery, but all I managed to draw were a few deep gulps before Leslie opened fire. I leapt off him and ran for the hallway out of the cryo-chamber. A sharp pain bit into my arm, but not much else.
That vile woman had shot me with a crossbow.
At least, they weren’t stupid enough to use laser weapons on a spaceship. I raced down the hallway, each stride growing stronger as strength surged through my limbs.
Go back and eat, a part of me begged.
The urge to feed grew painful, but survival came first. The darkened hallways of the ship blended together, but within the fog of my memories the path was clear. I could lose them if I kept going. Their heavy footsteps thundered behind me.
“Just leave her!” Viz’s pained voice grew more distant. He was slowing down, but Leslie hadn’t let up.
“Get back to the Crescent!” she ordered. “T5, wake up Remington, Pauls, and Yao!”
“Understood. Seven minutes until the Hyperion unfolds,” T5 replied.
So that voice was her spaceship.
Her instructions forced a chill up my spine. Soon enough, I’d have to deal with five people instead of two.
For the longest time, I’d wanted company, but not like this.
Death on my Doorstep
My footsteps thundered down the corridor as I ran deeper into the ship. The fogginess in my head lifted a bit. A quick snack could do that for you.
I slowly pulled the short arrow from my arm, biting back the urge to grunt from the burning pain.
There were many places to hide. Countless maroon-colored maintenance shafts narrow enough for my thin frame, to the compartments along the walls that stored the knee-high bots that cleaned dust off surfaces. I had yet to try to sneak into their minuscule closets.
And what if you get stuck?
The idea of withering away in a square box didn’t appeal to me so I ran until I passed a few doorways. Over each arch, inscriptions, like tiny brush strokes, had been carved into the shiny metal. As to what they said, I didn’t know. The language wasn’t one I knew. What mattered was I could get inside.
I placed my hand on the cold surface of the door and waited. A series of clicks were faint at first, practically hard to hear, until my palm grew warm. The door opened with a soft whoosh and I slipped inside.
A deathly c
hill had swallowed the room whole. To conserve energy, many parts of the ship had gone cold. The rectangular viewport was closed—none of them were ever open. This ship was a tomb.
Just like my cryo-chamber. A wave of loneliness made my chest heavy like it always did when I thought about hiding away in the chamber. When I was there, the only pleasant memory I clung to was of a woman wearing light blue. I didn’t know what happened to her, or if she was my mother or a protector of some kind, but she had taught me a thing or two.
I’d been in this room before. A few rooms wouldn’t open when I pressed my palm on the doorway, but this one did.
I glanced around, searching for a weapon, but there wasn’t much in here except for a desk, a chair, and an unlit console. A single door on the other side of the room led to a closet. A long time ago, I wondered if perhaps this had been my room, but none of the clothing in the closet fit me.
Unless I’d had a major growth spurt of some kind. The boots were also too narrow—which was why I was barefoot.
The desk didn’t have anything threatening—unless I planned to use a vase to club someone. Dust gathered on the inside. When I’d first explored this room, I found a tiny, petrified, reddish petal at the bottom.
This place once had life, and now it was cold and dead—just like me. Since a body suit was about as threatening as the cleaning bots, I picked up the vase. This ship had to have weapons, but I had yet to discover them.
The faint sound of footsteps reached my ears. Leslie was coming. I stood perfectly still. Only the ship’s low-frequency noise was the other sound I caught.
She was pressing on the access console next to each door. The familiar access denied noise was a shrill ring. Each sound was getting closer and closer. The beautiful thing about this ship, and the most frustrating one, was that it cradled its secrets beyond my reach.
My grip on the vase tightened. She was getting closer.
Soon enough, a high-pitched sound rang outside my door. As expected, she wasn’t getting in. Her footsteps moved away from the door. With each step she took, I approached the doorway.