by Candace Sams
He kept stumbling forward, and almost fell at one point.
When she reached out to help, he held up one hand in denial. The flesh from that arm dangled like skin from a roasted foul.
“D-don’t touch me … may still have plasma … b-burn you.”
Once more that day, Nova openly wept. Even now his concern was for someone else. “I’ll use my cloak. It’s eel skin, dried from creatures caught in the lakes. It’ll resist the plasma for the little while it takes to get you inside the cave.”
Marcos stiffly turned his head toward her, but still waved off her assistance.
She watched as, one small step at a time, he kept moving forward. He fought again to maintain his balance, and she saw his eyes roll back into his head again. His breathing came in rasping gasps.
Finally, when he actually got to the cave entrance, he fell to his knees. She watched him dig his way forward by clawing at the red dirt. Unable to hold back the sobs of sympathy any longer, she pushed the hood of her cloak back. His cloak and shirt, placed on his shoulders to keep more dirt from blowing into open wounds, now lay in the hauler. She grabbed them up as they were now the only clothing he had without any plasma attached. What was left of any other clothing was now burned into his skin. It’d be difficult to tell cloth from flesh.
Rather than put her hands on him again, she simply let him crawl forward at his own crude pace. And when he was finally through the entrance and lay on the ground in the chamber beyond, she knelt beside him.
“I have to return the transport I stole. I’ll be back soon.”
He lay on his side and simply stared at the cave wall. In the belief pain had taken him to a place where he couldn’t hear her now, she hurried outside again.
It took but a few minutes to return the hovercraft and its attached hauler. The tavern lights were out now but she was careful to put everything back exactly where she’d found it.
Luck was with her. Almost as if her actions had been ordained and approved by the Creator Goddess herself, she heard loud snoring coming from the open iron doors of the tavern. The slugs had passed out where they’d partied. Apparently, the tavern owner had retreated to his dwelling for the night, unwilling to waken the drunken Limaxians and endure their wrath.
She crept carefully back to her cave and arrived just as the sun was coming up. Fear of finding her rescued green-eyed hero dead made her approach his still figure slowly. Light from her perpetual stone kept the chamber illuminated enough to move about. The stone had been one mined by her father when he was still alive. He’d given it to her when he first suspected there’d be trouble with Adaman Forrell. While it couldn’t provide much heat, it kept the darkness at bay.
It was a time long ago when her father had made this cave into a retreat for Nova, her mother, and himself. Sadly, her parents had never been able to use it. Because of her sire’s foresight, she now had a place to survive the cold winters and hot summers in reasonable comfort.
She took a deep breath, and gathered her supply of wood for the small fire. The smoke would be drawn toward the rear and dissipate while going up a very narrow tunnel to the surface. In this way, she’d avoided detection while keeping warm.
When she had a good-sized blaze, she gathered her supply of stolen medicinals and finally turned to Marcos. He was as she’d left him. His eyes stared sightlessly at the side of the cave. He still breathed, but he hadn’t been alone after all.
A small white ball of fluff was curled up near Marcos’s bare chest. Una wasn’t close enough to cause him harm or to be burned by residual plasma. The pup instinctively knew not to get too near. But Marcos should certainly be able to hear the whirring sound the animal made. That sound was usually reserved for when Una was being stroked or held.
Marcos blinked once. One of his fingers flicked near the puppy’s nose. Something in her new patient registered the fuzzy presence.
Nova put her small basket of medicines down by Marcos’s head. She stared at him and Una for a moment before speaking softly. “My dog senses you’re hurt, and she’s trying to help. But you know that, don’t you?”
Marcos blinked again.
Nova patted the puppy’s head, picked her up, and cuddled her close. “Good girl, Una. Good girl.”
Marcos’s eyes stayed on the puppy.
“You want her near? Is it helping you that she’s near you?”
He blinked once more.
“All right. She can stay close.”
When Nova put the puppy down, it immediately waddled back to Marcos and cuddled up where it had been.
Marcos’s left hand moved closer to the pup’s nose. As before, he was able to move one finger in acceptance of the animal’s presence.
• • •
Marcos stared at the small animal. It was fuzzy and totally white except for its black eyes, black nose, and two purple antennae, which were about three inches tall. All other body parts were indiscernible.
For some reason, staring at the small beast made the pain more bearable. Hearing it breathe was comforting. Having it blow softly on his hand wasn’t painful. When the girl had left him, it’d found him and lay down quite near, as if it didn’t want him to be alone. As it stayed so still beside him, the pain diminished a little.
The woman spoke softly and moved closer. He recognized his surroundings as a cave and remembered her mentioning its existence.
Everything was brighter now. Flickering shadows on the red walls told him a fire had been started. A face loomed over him.
He was finally able to see her without her hood. Her cheeks, chin, and neck were scarred, likely from a previous plasma burn. Her forehead and nose had somehow escaped the dripping chemical. Her hair was gone, so he could only guess about the original color. Her eyes, however, were unbelievable. They were a shocking shade of purple, so bright they rivaled the loveliest amethysts he’d ever seen.
“P-pretty eyes,” he rasped.
She smiled. “The worst of the burning is over, or you wouldn’t even notice.”
That one smile brought more light to his spirit than the fire brought to the cave. Her smile was the most enchantingly wonderful thing he’d ever witnessed. Her full lips parted over straight white teeth, and he actually found himself wanting to lift a hand to touch her scarred cheek.
He swallowed hard, turned on his back, and moaned as pain overwhelmed him again.
“Marcos, I have to get the remainder of your clothing cut away. If I don’t, it’ll cause infections later. Then I’m going to bathe you with cold water. It’ll hurt. Badly. But the residual plasma can’t be removed unless I do it.”
He swallowed hard, blinked to let her know he understood, and quit trying to speak. The effort was too much.
“The pain will go on for a long time, but your skin will eventually heal over with scars. Some parts of your will body will be very sensitive. Other parts won’t have any feeling at all. But the cleaning has to be done tonight,” she told him. “Do you understand?”
He nodded slightly and moved his eyes in her direction.
“I’m going to move the puppy away so I can get to your body. I don’t want Una exposed to any plasma. I think she helped you. The sound she makes is very reassuring. I’ll put her back when I’m done. Okay?”
He breathed deeply and blinked his response once more.
“Now … as I get your clothing off, I’ll apply the water.”
She still spoke softly. It was calming to hear her voice but he feared her touch, no matter how gently applied.
“I’m going to start now. You can cry out if you need to.”
Marcos clenched his jaw, but nothing eased the terrible, torturous hours ahead. He screamed and writhed until darkness surrounded him.
• • •
“Chronos’s balls!” Prometheus yelled as he threw his tankard against the wall.
Adaman Forrell stared at the big slug and slowly shook his head. If it weren’t for the wealth the bastard had helped him accumulate—which he consid
ered his due for serving in a thankless public office—he’d poison all the odorous vermin just so he wouldn’t have to hear their bellowing complaints. “What’s wrong, Prometheus?” he slowly asked as he reeled in any rage of his own.
“I knew there was something about that merchant that wasn’t right. Without specialized experience, no human could have stood against one of my brawlers. He handled a sword as if he was born to it. Not one in a thousand could give such a showing. But then, Dar Starlaw’s son would be taught to handle any number of weapons from an early age.”
Adaman’s hands began to shake. He fell into the nearest chair and wiped a sudden wash of sweat from his forehead. If what Prometheus said was true, they were in horrific trouble. “Dar Starlaw’s son? I-If you believed that’s who that man was, then you should have just walked away, Prometheus!”
“I didn’t know who he was at the time. Besides … what choice had I? He challenged my authority in front of the population. He’d seen too much.”
“Y-you could be wrong, you know. Many men learned to fight during the wars. That he bested your brawler doesn’t necessarily mean he’s of royal lineage.”
“The man’s fighting ability was too well honed,” Prometheus attested. “It took time to glean his image from others who might bear such talent, but there he is.” Prometheus swiveled his computer around and brought up a holographic image of the entire royal family. “See the planetary badge on his chest? He wears the insignia that designates him as a member of the royal family. He is a prince of Luster … second-born son of the king. His much longer hair, beard, and trappings made it more difficult to trace. But I knew him to be of noble birth. I knew it!”
Adaman wrung his hands and took slow, deep breaths to still the hammering of his heart. The slug leader’s quickness to anger was going to bring down the full wrath of the Constellation League. In fact, it usually had been Prometheus’s bloodlust that’d caused every problem he’d ever had during his career as governor. Letting the swaggering gem merchant go would have been a better tactic, but discretion had never been Prometheus’s style. Now their backs might very well be against a wall.
“W-what are we going to do? He was obviously sent here as a spy. What are we going to do, Prometheus?” Adaman agitatedly repeated.
“Quit babbling and let me think.”
“Where did you have his body taken?” Adaman asked as he stood and began to pace. Along with enduring the stench of the slug leader and his ill-kempt minions—each and every day—he now faced a very bleak future due to the idiot Limaxian’s actions.
“He’s in the pit with all the other dead. Right next to Codge, I should imagine.”
Adaman stopped pacing and squarely faced Prometheus. He’d resort to the same tactic he’d always employed when any merchant or traveler landed on Delta Seven and had gone missing due to one of the stupid slugs’s distrust. “We’ll simply never admit to his having been here. When the enforcer ships arrive, I won’t allow them to land. They can’t unless I say so; that’s the treaty I signed with them. I’ve already told them there’s a five-month moratorium on enforcer vessels. So if they ask … I-I’ll say I don’t know anything about him.”
“And if they should land anyway?”
Adaman momentarily put his fingers to his lips in thought. “In that event, you can have your brawlers deal with the population … hide those who’re scarred from the plasma, keep them indoors on threat of death. That ploy worked before when I allowed enforcer vessels to freely land and their crews to roam about. As usual, let everyone know what will happen if they talk.”
Prometheus nodded.
“If that merchant really is who you think he is, and the king learns what you did to his son and that I permitted your presence here, we’ll be taken to Luster and put to death. Do you know what they do to anyone who kills an enforcer? Never mind a man of royal lineage.” Adaman vehemently shook his head. “We should have left this hellhole when that first vein of rare jewels was discovered. Since they were of such exceptional quality, we had enough to build our fortunes many times over.”
“You agreed to this, Forrell. Indeed, you have received five times the share you’d have been allotted if the stones had been equitably apportioned to the miners. But more gems are needed for my purposes. And I will not stop until I have all I require.” Prometheus growled loudly before continuing. “Starlaw or not, that man’s remains must be taken elsewhere. We’ll have to burn his body separately and quite thoroughly to make sure there’s nothing left. The bodies of any other dissidents will also be thoroughly destroyed, but it is most important that nothing be found of the so-called merchant. The king’s med-techs must not be able to locate so much as an eyelash.”
“Yes, yes … quite so,” Adaman quickly murmured. “I’ll have my constables retrieve his body immediately.”
“Have your men take his carcass to the barren side of the planet, Forrell. The man’s body can be fully incinerated there. And when your constables return, I and my brawlers will be waiting for them.”
Adaman tilted his head. A dropping sensation in his stomach, coupled with Prometheus’s feral-looking snarl, wasn’t a good sign. “What do you mean to do to them?”
“Your constables can’t be trusted. They’ll have to be killed to keep this secret. No one must know that Marcos Orlandis was actually Marcos Starlaw.”
Adaman swallowed hard and put one shaking hand around his throat. Things were going too far. There had to be a way to stop it. “B-but they’re my people. My personal guard. They won’t talk. I’ll swear to it.”
“I’ll take no chances. It took me hours of searching to find this one vid-pic taken several years ago. If your constables begin to wonder why the gem merchant’s body is being treated differently from all the rest, they might be able to ferret out the same information I did, through their own resources. They do, after all, monitor the other communication center on your orders.”
“But why not just send your brawlers out to retrieve the body to begin with? That way, none of my constables has to die.”
“You’re a fool, Forrell. Have you learned nothing?” Prometheus turned his back on the image of the king’s son and faced the governor.
Forrell swallowed hard, knowing he had no choice. As Prometheus said, he was in too deep to turn back now.
“I’ll be with my brawlers when your constables return,” Prometheus told him. “We’ll kill your men before they can speak to any of the colonists. We’ll spread the rumor that we caught the constables stealing from the mines. My brawlers don’t like them anyway and will believe that story. No one will ever know the real reason why the constables died. That means everyone who knew about the body being moved elsewhere will be gone. There’ll be no one left alive to even say where the prince’s remains were taken. No one will know anything about any of this … no one but you and me.”
The slug leader moved closer, and Adaman couldn’t stop shaking.
“If anyone learns a Starlaw was tortured and murdered, it will have to come from you, Forrell. And I’ll know where to find you. Won’t I?”
Adaman backed up. “I-I would never tell,” he whispered.
“I know. This little plan will make sure of it.”
Prometheus pulled out a dagger and placed it against Adaman’s neck.
“Just remember,” the slug warned, “you survive at my pleasure. I only need you to make contact with merchants, suppliers, and Constellation League enforcers. They’ll expect you to be in office. But cross me, and you’ll end up like the second-born prince of Luster. Your remains will be incinerated in some little hole, and no one will even miss you. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I won’t cross you. I swear it!” Adaman promised as he slowly backed away from the curved blade of the big slug’s dagger.
• • •
Every thread of Marcos’s clothing had been cut away. Nova made quite sure of that before hauling several containers of water into the cave from a nearby pond. She boiled the water
to kill any bacteria, then spread a clean blanket next to her patient’s body. She methodically cleansed his back, shoulders, buttocks, and thighs. And when she was sure every bit of the plasma was gone from that side of him, she rolled him onto the clean blanket and began to gently wipe down the front of his body.
As her mother had been a healer, so was she. She’d been present when many miners, merchants, tradesmen, and their children had been brought to their home because of illness or after an accident. At first, healing incubation units had been available. But when they broke down and no one had the technical expertise to fix them, it had fallen to her mother and her to treat all the sick and injured. They did so using olden ways of the Wiccans who were their ancestors, and who’d passed down those arts from one generation to the next.
At the time, it seemed criminal that the governor wouldn’t order more medical equipment to replace what was damaged. But no amount of pleading from her father or the other miners did any good. The new incubation units never came. It was at that time the colonists of Delta Seven began to learn just what their governor was up to.
Slugs began to arrive soon after her father’s last confrontation with Adaman Forrell. Forrell finally made his announcement that no medical equipment would be coming at all, and the slugs would be taking control of the population. The head constable, a political rival for the governor’s position, had been murdered in his sleep along with all his family. That was when Nova’s world fell apart.
The slugs came in the night and took her father, mother, and other dissenters away. She saw them burned in the square like so many others. Soon after, her home burned down while she was in the marketplace trying to rally dissenters. Some came to her aid. And when several young men of the miner’s co-op demanded answers from Forrell’s constables, they were killed. One of them had been her lover and might have been her husband one day.
Afterward, a crowd rioted because of the murders of their friends and family members. Nova was among them. But the slugs appeared and released streams of fire plasma on them all. That was when she was burned, while trying to escape.