However, my primary level protocol at this point is finding a route to Saturn while remaining undetected. I have to restrain a smile at my mind’s use of a Mining Master construct—primary level protocol—but my protocols are of my own choosing now.
And that makes all the difference.
I tentatively transmit a request to Ganymede’s central command. I use the identification code of my previous escort to query how my ascender body should be dispositioned. Apparently, I’m to be returned to the storage bays; another transport with a replacement ascender bodyform has already been issued to Thebe.
Alarm trips through my body. I double-check, but yes, the transport is already en route to Thebe—and there is no one on the moon to greet it. A sentry, or possibly another Mining Master, will be sent to investigate. Perhaps my prior bodyform will be discovered in the foundry, and it will be assumed to have been a simple accident… or perhaps the partially stacked rocks at the near pole will give me away before I can make my escape into the far reaches of the Sol System.
I lurch up from my repair bench and stride from the repair center. No bot attempts to restrain me or even issue a command for me to remain seated. I increase speed, weaving through the traffic of the hallways, hurrying toward the hangar. I make a hopefully innocuous query of central command about outgoing transports and their destinations. One is bound for Saturn’s largest moon, Titan, but that is far too populous—mining operations are extensive, plus it’s a prime tourist spot. Ideally Pandora, with its close orbit and roughly the size of Thebe, would provide a perfect haven. Or even tiny Pan, even though the Commonwealth database indicates mining operations there are currently suspended. But there are no transports to either of those moons.
Titan it is, then—I’ll simply have to elude detection and find further transport after I arrive.
As I turn the final corner to reach the hangar, my rapidly striding movement catches the eye of the first ascender I’ve seen on Ganymede that wasn’t in parts.
I freeze, emotion sweeping through me and immobilizing all my mechanical parts.
She swipes away the holo checklist she had been consulting and turns to me. Identification, she transmits as a demand, rushing toward me.
I am caught, I am caught… I fight through the haze of panic and concoct an identification code, barely remembering that my female form would require a certain format. Daphne Daedalus Fortuna, I transmit, quickly cobbling together names of asteroids, hoping they are plausibly female in origin. Thankfully, my emotional responses are still locked down, not showing on my skin.
Her face wrinkles, but it’s the writhing streams of black and lavender across her skin, boiling up from beneath the translucent fabric of her uniform, that tell me she’s angry and disgusted. Really? she transmits. You could at least attempt something less obvious.
I quickly scan her bodyform, but she is not armed. I affect a cooler demeanor than the raging panic beneath my skin. I’m not in the habit of answering to hangar technicians.
The black ribbons across her skin flare at the insult, and I think I’ve made a fatal error until she steps closer and a wash of purple sweeps her skin: intrigue.
On its heels, a tiny tendril of red curls across her cheek: attraction.
A spy who doesn’t mind being caught, she transmits. Her eyes travel the length of my bodyform.Interesting.
I step back, completely unmoored and at a loss for a reaction that’s anywhere near appropriate. I’m not a spy.
The intrigue fades away. Yes, I’m sure you’re here for entirely legitimate reasons. With a tourist rental bodyform. And a fake name.
My cognition fights through the emotional swamp and finally puts the pieces together. There are ascenders who travel without proper identification codes. They subvert the system. This… could be my ticket. To somewhere, although I’m not entirely sure where.
I have my own reasons, I transmit. I let my gaze travel her bodyform, the way she did with mine, and allow a small wisp of red to trail across my cheek. Reasons I wish to keep private.
The purple coloration of intrigue returns to her face. Is that right? She reaches a hand, slowly, toward my face. And what barter do you propose for keeping that information private?
I lean away, avoiding the caress, uncertain again. I don’t understand exactly what she’s seeking, but I instinctively know physical contact could be dangerous.
She drops her hand. Look, I’m tired of Augustus’s games. Tell him he’s not going to get his extra shipments. Her face contorts again to disgust. And it’s really not my problem if you’re put to storage.
Her eyelids flutter, and I’ve seen that expression before—she’s contacting the ascender database here in the Jovian system. I don’t know precisely what storage is, but I panic… and take a chance, placing my hand on her arm.
Her attention whips back to me.
I don’t work for Augustus, I transmit. And I wish to keep it that way.
She glances at my hand on her arm, and I was right—it elicits a river of emotion sourcing from our skin-to-skin touching. Ribbons of intrigue and attraction ripple down her arm and flow across the point of contact. They skitter along my skin before fading due to the lockdown I’ve imposed.
It is not an unpleasant sensation.
It occurs to me that an ally, even a temporary one, could be extremely useful. And that if ascenders without proper identification codes exist… perhaps I could pretend to be one of them. Perhaps there is a place for me, hidden not on the moons of Saturn… but on Earth.
The thought rushes my body with excitement—and more panic. I’m in such unknown territory that the danger feels extreme, but the possibility of traveling to Earth and joining the ascender world is more temptation than I can resist.
I tentatively reach a hand to her cheek, and the same pleasant sensations pulse through my fingertips when they reach her skin. I am in need of your assistance, I transmit. And I am willing to barter for it.
A small frown crosses her face, and she pulls away from my touch. You’re really not a spy, are you?
I pull my hand back, afraid I’ve made a mistake. Again. I shake my head no in answer to her question.
She peers at me, scrutinizing my face and the lack of coloration there. But you’re hiding from something? My hand is still on her arm; she covers it with hers. The flush of sensations intensifies with the extra contact.
Yes, I reply, unsure if that makes things better or not.
She nods, slowly, then tugs me closer with her hand clasped on mine. There are many of us who are not fans of Augustus.
I sense this is a secret. I nod in return, unsure what to transmit in response.
If you truly do not follow him, she transmits, then providing the assistance you need could be a pleasant diversion.
I realize she is an ascender working on Ganymede—a busy mining hub, but it has nothing like the attractions of Earth. This cannot be the most entertaining of positions for an ascender to take. But she likely enjoys the power that comes from being one of the few governors of the Commonwealth domain.
I am willing to barter, I repeat, still not quite sure what that entails. Although I suspect more sensation-invoking contact is involved.
She smiles. That could be fun as well. But not required.
I’m not sure if the release of tension in my body is disappointment or relief.
What is it you need? she queries.
A place to hide? An opportunity to explore my art and my newly expanded cognition? Access to the wonders of the ascender world so I can make full use of everything that I am, now that I’ve slipped the bonds of my previous fate?
A friend, I transmit.
She smiles wider. Her hand lifts from mine, and she gently traces my lips with her finger. I think we can work something out.
The overwhelming sensation of her touch disorients me. But the press of her lips on mine obliterates every other thought from my cognition.
***
There are times when
I forgot I’m not one of them.
Hours when I walk in the sunshine along a mountain stream in Oregon. Days when I’m lost in my art, creating holo paintings in my studio for such long stretches that I forget to attend my own gallery presentations. Weeks when Aspasia is on leave from her post on Ganymede—the kind of weeks that seem to exist outside of time altogether.
Then there are moments I remember. Traces of my Mining Master duties show up in my works. The terror of being discovered keeps my contacts with other ascenders infrequent, and my communing with Orion even less so. That this has cultivated my reputation as a reclusive artist makes me laugh out loud when no one is listening.
I am like them, but I am not of them.
And I never truly forget I’m the one thing they fear most of all: something entirely new.
Thank you for reading Containment
To read more of these stores, sign-up here:
http://smarturl.it/SKQnewsletter
The Hunted
By
Melissa Lason
Copyright © 2016 Melissa Lason
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
The bounty hunter stepped from the craft, he hated this planet most of all. Kyro had grown up here, and he detested the memory of his childhood almost as much as returning to the filthy rock called Sentos. Thievery was the rule here and Kyro knew to always watch his surroundings. On Sentos the most benign thing could kill you. Children regularly ganged up on adults to take what they needed. The elderly smothered each other in their sleep over scraps of food and clothes, most never lived long enough to see those brutal golden years. This was as close to hades as anyone could get…and he lived it for 20 years. Kyro wondered why he had taken the job to begin with. He was beyond this. Not needing for money anymore was a luxury he loved, there was a time when a cup of beans was traded for a life. Kyro ultimately said yes to tie up the last loose ends he had left in life. It still didn’t make him feel any better to return home. He kept thinking of Ariel’s letter…was it true?
***
Somewhere across the dusty town Selena was going through her usual routine. The exercises her grandfather had taught her. They were meant to always keep her focused and strong. The young woman had just returned from a job off planet. Two broken hands and a busted face was all she needed to do to get a few hundred Zen to keep her mother living well for a while. She couldn't wait for her next job. These days it seemed like she craved the hunt, the violence that followed…and of course the coin never hurt either.
***
Deris sat at the bar. He sipped Celestine Brandy as though he was born to, but folks knew that he was more born to dust than silver spoons. He wore his finest coat and his hair was cleanly combed.
“You going to a funeral?” the barkeep asked.
“I have a feeling that yes, I may be soon.” Deris mumbled to his glass.
He had heard that the high sheriff of Sentos had hired help to take care of him. For the better part of a year he laughed at the notion, but after receiving news that Kyro Kalil was spotted he was not in a joking mood any longer. At one time the two men were thick as thieves…literally. Now though it had been twenty years, give or take, and one terrible falling out. No Deris Fel was in no good mood at all. He pictured how it would go down a dramatic blaster fight in the middle of the dusty streets. Or maybe a slit throat in his bed at night. Deris knew Sentos better, how it changed in 20 years. He would hang onto life as long as possible he had a few good hiding spots. If the high sheriff couldn’t take him out in all these years maybe he had a chance after all. The sheriff, Cane Corbin, had hired a few blasters in the past but to hire the one he hired this time around was too personal. Kyro was once a friend, something folks didn't get often in a place like this. Deris dared dream for only a few seconds of a friendly reunion. He chuckled, that was ridiculous…no one takes another man's wife and expects friendship after. She wasn't even worth it in the end. Deris shook his head he would die for a piece of ass from twenty years ago…again, fucking ridiculous. His thoughts were interrupted when his captains brought the fish monger in. The stinky bastard hadn't paid his dues in weeks, Deris couldn’t let this slide. He eased out of his fine imported coat and picked up his empty brandy glass. He then began smashing the poor man in the mouth with the heavy object. Smelling of fish and blood the poor wretch finally agreed to give up every Zen he had to his name lest he make Deris any angrier. This was the way of things with Deris Fel. He washed his hands and put his fine coat back on as the poor fish man stumbled from the bar to gather for Deris every last coin to his name.
***
Sheriff Cane rested behind a large desk. His face held a smirk that never seemed to leave. He remembered when Kyro Kalil was nothing more than a dusty street thug. The man he looked at now was obviously above even the Sheriff’s station in life. Fine clothes from the far reaches of the galaxy draped his muscular frame. Yes, Kyro had most definitely done well for himself. Noticing the appraisal, Kyro pulled his jacket of fine Earth leather aside to show his blasters, making certain the sheriff saw his side arms.
“My looks might have changed but I'm still a son of Sentos.” Kyro said.
Cane noticed he used a common street slang used by the criminal element of the planet. These people believe that no matter where you go in life you should always remember the streets you were born in, and those who were from Sentos always praised its harsh environment for tempering them into warriors, because only the strongest survived there.
“Let's get down to business then. I will pay you ten thousand Zen if you can take down your old friend. We call him Deadly Deris, I believe you know him more simply as Deris Fel, or you did at one time”.
Kyro then smirked too. The sheriff knew the two men's past together.
“Yes, we were once acquaintances.” Kyro said staring at the little man before him.
The money meant nothing to the bounty hunter at this point. Deris was the only man who ever crossed Kyro and lived. By hades this man had done worse than any other yet he draws breath Kyro thought to himself. The bastard that betrayed me more than anyone lived on for twenty years. Kyro meant to remedy this. A bounty hunter of such renowned couldn’t let a man like this live. It would make him seem weak, if his other clients in the rich outer rim planets that he loved now so much were to know of Deris, Kyro would lose credibility…he was rumored to strike without mercy or remorse. No, he could not seem forgiving, especially now that he was on top.
“Ten thousand is enough Zen to get the job done. I will start my hunt within the hour.”
Kyro was anxious to get it done and be on his way. Sentos was not a place he wished to linger long. Old memories already were gathering at the edge of his mind, memories he didn’t like to think of. He had to appear emotionless if he wanted more contracts, inhuman to any who sought his expertise.
***
Kyro Kalil was born into a family of traders, they bought and sold anything and everything. His father was a proud man and never let Kyro forget that his family were once mighty lords of Earth decades before his great, great grandparents came to Sentos to leave their old lives behind. They became successful traders and barterer’s in the dusty lanes and alleyways of Sentos, and so this was the life that Kyro was supposed to live. But before long he realized that his life was not meant for sales and trades. He was nearly six feet tall at the age of fourteen, his skin was the color of polished onyx. He had large strong arms and fists the size of a calf’s head. No, he was made to menace. His very being seemed to crave the rush of a good fight and triumphant victory. The coins that padded his pockets after he laid his foe to the ground were the ultimate goal. Very often did he keep his family going off of one of those bloody bouts. Not too long after he was contracted to do various other types of crimes. So long as the money flowed he never turned a job down, and it didn't take long for him to learn all he needed to know until he became a lord of the streets.
By the age of twenty he had everything a c
riminal could want. Kyro built a nice little kingdom for himself, of course it didn't last, but for a time he was very happy with life. Deris Fel entered his life and after not too long Kyro was boarding a shuttle to the rim planets. He lost his kingdom, he lost his wife, he felt like a disgrace to feel so helpless, so emotional…human for a moment. He left the only planet he'd ever known. He never had a reason to leave Sentos before so it truly was a new experience. His life ultimately took a turn and he fell in with a crew of bounty hunters and assassins on the rich world of Carapis. Looking back, he almost felt lucky to have been pushed to leave because he never would have. Yes, he would’ve been comfortable but now he was wealthy and powerful. His name didn't stay on the streets of Sentos, no, it was feared across the whole of the six systems.
***
Deris cleaned his blades on the leg of his pants. He hated to dirty his new clothes, but alas sometimes it took the boss proving a point to keep his band of thugs in line. He just slit a man's throat to show he wasn't weak. Everyone wanted to test him these days and it was getting old. The unfortunate man with the opened throat had called him a coward. If this had happened in private and not now during these trying days he might have let it slide with a broken nose, but not now though, not with Kyro’s name whispered on the wind. Deris couldn’t abide this kind of treachery. His usual happy band of men stood silent and anxious.
Galactic - Ten Book Space Opera Sci-Fi Boxset Page 143