by Greg Dragon
“Rafian?” she called, and then touched another button which illuminated the place.
“Who is this?” Rafian asked.
He stepped out and sheathed the las-sword, then took three steps to move over to where Jelline and her companion stood. The man was a very pale blue, and his face appeared to have suffered some sort of trauma in the past. The flap that covered the hole that Daltaks used to breathe was missing on him, and there were dark rings around his eyes that gave his visage the appearance of a skull. His hair was cut low around his horns, making him appear bald, but he had bushy whiskers and a beard.
“The name’s Baylon. How are you this morning?” the Daltak said. He exposed his forearm for Rafian to reach in and grasp in the customary Tyheran greeting.
Rafian replied with his name and gripped the man’s forearm. From the instant they touched, he could tell that the Daltak was a lot stronger than he appeared. They sat down in the living room and Jelline excused herself. The short sleep and the brightness that radiated from the lights were disorienting to Rafian’s eyes, and they became bloodshot in a way that the Daltak noticed.
“Hard to sleep in Veece these last couple of nights,” he remarked and Rafian looked at him and shrugged.
“I don’t stay here. Never have, really, but I can imagine it being hard to sleep when you’re having to watch your back constantly,” he said.
“Exactly!” Baylon said as Jelline came back with a cup of tea.
She handed it to him, and then she walked over to Rafian and handed him another. She was in a long, sheer dress that looked like a nightgown, and she wore boots with spikes all over them. She had her braided hair down and it fell loosely over her shoulders. Rafian saw that Baylon had a hard time keeping his eyes off her, and would shoot him momentary glances to see if he, too was looking at the Daltak beauty.
“So, what has Jelline told you about me?” Rafian asked, sinking back into the soft couch and raising the tea cup to his lips.
“She said that you are one of us, a brother, but you’ve been missing for a long time. This was when I asked your name and she told me, ‘Rafian.’ A popular name, no doubt, but not well known on Lochte.”
Jelline took a seat on the love seat in between them, facing the central table which they sat around in a semi-circle. She seemed intrigued by Rafian—which Baylon noticed—and Rafian read into all of this and became irritated.
“Look, Baylon, enough with the games. Let’s get this out of the way so that we can speak business. I’m not with Jelline, haven’t been with Jelline, so you can relax your thyping cave era instincts, alright? I’m a man who needed help, and she was a sweet soul that offered to give it to me. So from what I hear, you have a ship and the means to take me up to Talula. Am I right?” His expression took on a very serious intensity that made Baylon put his cup down in a hurry.
“If that’s what you read from me, it’s not correct, Rafian. The fact is that you are an outsider, a new contact that I have never dealt with in the past. Of course I will be hesitant in our dealings. The beautiful Jelline has nothing to do with this,” he replied, taking on a look of hurt and embarrassment.
“Yeah, and I was hatched yesterday,” Rafian said, glancing over at Jelline.
“Oh boys, is it the dress that’s causing this?” she joked, and shook her head at them as if they were hopeless. “Look, I will excuse myself and go into the other room. That should allow you both to talk business without me being the subject. We’re all friends here, alright? We all hate Palus, and we all want to do what is necessary to bring him down. Gimme a call when you’re finished parlaying and I will come back in here.”
Rafian watched her exit the room, swaying her hips as she did, and then turned back to Baylon, who was watching her too. The Daltak turned back to him and downed his tea quickly. “Alright, Rafian, what do you offer for the flight? I need details so that I can determine if I’m even doing it, and I need to know what you can pay me.”
How about I offer you your life, you piece of schtill? Rafian thought, but stared at the Daltak, thinking about what it was that he had to offer. “When last I lived here, I had a nice cache of credits inside of a house on the eastern borders of Cally, Apun. I can give you the code and take you to the house, and you can grab anything you need out of the safe there,” Rafian said.
“Credits, I like credits,” the Daltak said. “How much are we talking here?”
“Almost a million.” Rafian said without flinching.
The Daltak whistled and could hardly hide the smile that was working its way across his scarred visage. “What do you need me to do for that sort of money? I know that the one trip will not be all you want.”
“I need you to take this crystal and hold on to it. Keep it on your person at all times, and when the time comes I will tell you were you can fence it for even more credits, my friend,” Rafian said. He took one of the black warp crystals from out of his pack, and then handed it to the Daltak, who held it up to the light and smiled.
“Where did you say you were from, Rafian?” the Daltak asked suddenly. “You are certainly richer than any rebel I know, and this alien crystal … I have never seen anything like it in all my years!”
“I’m from Talula. Let’s just leave it at that. And I married and converted one of Palus’s richest Baronesses back when we were here staging fights against Veece. Listen, these are my demands, and you can tell me whether you are in or not. I’ve told you a lot; you are now a liability to me if you refuse, and so let me preface this by saying that you are already committed one way or another. Are we understanding each other?” Rafian asked.
“I get it, brother, you’re making a threat. Either I be your pilot for whatever you have planned or you will find a way to kill me and take my ship. Listen, I just asked out of courtesy – to see if you were honorable or not. For the reward, I mean. Jelline vouched for you, and really that is enough, so at the very least I’m taking you to the moon. I just want to know what else you will be needing me for and whether or not you will pay.”
“I’m paying, you have my word on that. That crystal means the world to me, and I will ask to see it whenever you and I meet up. If the crystal is missing, stolen, or sold, there will be hell to pay. Keep it as I’ve asked and stay patient with me and my mission, and it will be worth more than the credits inside of the house that I told you about. Do right by me, Baylon, and you can be a very rich smuggler.”
Baylon clasped his hands and looked around. He seemed to be physically fighting his excitement back at the prospect of riches. “Deal, Rafian, deal. What do you need?” he said, glancing back to the doorway where Jelline was doing a poor job of hiding as she tried to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“Okay, first I need you to fly me to an area on Talula,” Rafian said. He leaned forward and shifted the crocheted covering of the central table out of the way and placed a small disk on its metal surface. He gestured a bit with his hands over the disc and a holographic image of the Lucan solar system appeared. Baylon glanced at Jelline, and her mouth flew open.
She ran over to the table and knelt before it. “How do you have a holo projector and it’s so small and cute?” she asked, and Rafian looked at her to see if she was genuinely interested.
“Jelline, you’ve been good to me and I want to reward you, too,” he said. “Resistance business is dangerous, and from what I see of how you close your store and put yourself in danger, it’s probably time that you retired from the information broker business, don’t you think?” He rotated the system and then used his fingers to pinch at Tyhera until it zoomed in and became the only planet floating over the disc.
“What do you need me to do?” she asked and got up to sit next to Baylon.
“I need you to make contact with the Tyheran rebels that are in hiding. Take this device, and when I find out where they are, I will call you and tell you where to go.” He handed her a small comm-link which was in the form of a ring. She slipped it on her finger and then nodded at him
.
Rafian zoomed out of Tyhera, located Talula, and then zoomed in on it. He located the area where the crystal residue had stopped, and then jabbed at it with his finger while looking up at Baylon. “This area here is where I need you to drop me. It looks like there was some sort of trauma to the moon’s surface near here.” He indicated an area that had a black mark on the moon. “You don’t have to land, just throw me out, and I will call you when I’m ready to be evacuated,” he said to Baylon, and handed him another comm-link.
“All three of us can talk and hear one another on these things, so keep the lovers banter to a minimum,” Rafian said. “Any questions?”
The Daltaks glanced at one another and then back to Rafian. Baylon did not seem comfortable with the plans, so he spoke up and asked, “What happens once I drop you off? How long will you be down there? A few hours, a day, a week? Where are we going after that? How long do you need to use the ship for?”
“I will be on the surface for a day, so you may want to go here to this city and get yourself some rest for the night. When I need you, I will call, but it shouldn’t be long – you have my word on that. We will be in communication, so keep wearing your comms. One week from now, you both will be rich and able to get away from this corrupt city and the Felitian overseers.”
~ * ~
After the meeting and a round of drinks, Jelline went off to the bar to start the day and Baylon and Rafian went to the Starport to make the trip. The vessel Baylon flew was an old model of junk transport. It was barely allowed to land in Starports, but Baylon knew enough of the men that worked the docks to bypass the standard inspections.
When they had gone through the motions of meeting and greeting the various contacts, they strapped into the transport, lifted it above the city, and then flew towards the moon of Talula at a leisurely speed. The shaking of the vessel and the blinking of the lights on the heads-up display made Rafian think they would fall from the sky. He glanced at Baylon, who seemed as cool as ice, and the Daltak merely blinked and gave him the thumbs up.
The junker picked up speed and Rafian could feel the lurching of his insides as gravity fought to keep them on land, while the thrusters fought to take them up towards Tyhera’s atmosphere. They picked up even more speed as time went on, and before long the only sensation Rafian could feel was his body being pushed back into the chair as the thrusters were at full blast.
One monitor on the dash showed the surface of Tyhera as it became obscured by numerous clouds. Another sparked, its display a hole of shattered glass, and Rafian wondered if this would be his last flight before death took him.
Soon they were in space and the artificial gravity and exterior shields turned the flight from frightening to comfortable as the ship flew towards the moon. Baylon kept a slight smile on his face as they drifted along, and it was not unlike the peace that one might see in a fisherman during a cloud-filled day. Rafian unclipped his seatbelt and went to explore the ship. It reminded him of the old warships he had seen in vids of his parent’s time period.
“Bunk is in the very back if you want to sleep away those red eyes,” Baylon called back to him, and Rafian unlocked the door of the bridge and stepped through into a narrow hallway filled with fallen parts from their shaky takeoff. He walked by rooms that had old crates and cargo, almost tripping over several canisters that were rolling around. He picked these up and wedged them into an empty box, then closed it. He then walked past several other doorways that led to the ship’s necessary assets.
There was a doctor’s bay that was being used as additional storage, a filthy bathroom that hadn’t been cleaned in ages, and Baylon’s bedroom, which was actually clean. The “bunk” was a hammock that had been quickly tied between the walls of a narrow storage space, and there was a circular bay window on the wall that showed Tyhera shrinking as they flew.
Rafian placed his pack in the corner of the room, slid the door shut, and removed his 3B suit. He had been wearing it for two days and prolonged contact with its alien fabric would make the body assume that it was actually a part of it. He had made this mistake as a young marine on a moon named Meruda, and it had landed him in a hospital for several weeks.
He thought about taking a shower but couldn’t bring himself to step foot in the bathroom. So, he pulled on shorts from his pack, then walked to the kitchen and poured water into a bucket. He took it back to his room where he “bathed” in the best way he could in that closed in space.
The ship seemed alien and primitive compared to what he was used to on Anstractor. Marika’s a control freak, she would want to fly herself around. I wonder if she figured out how to fly these old ships, or is she using the crystals to get where she needs to go? he thought. The image of Marika fussing made him smile, and then he thought about her and Marian arguing over their next destination. What a strange dynamic those two must have, he thought. I never knew that they were such good friends, not so good that Marika would risk her life and career to follow her out to this schtill.
After dumping the water, he went back to the hammock and went to sleep. When he woke up, it was to the sound of Baylon shouting his name, so he hurriedly dressed, slipping back into his 3B suit, and collected his things to see what was going on.
“What is it?” he asked Baylon as he jumped back into the co-pilot’s chair and buckled himself in.
“I wanted to show you the surface, and why I agreed to help,” Baylon said, regarding him with a well-rested face and what appeared to be a change of clothes. “You were tired, rebel; you were out for hours. I’ve been calling your name for five minutes now and you barely moved an inch.”
Rafian looked at the moon through the front of the ship, and saw that everything was black and charred as far as his eyes could see. He looked at Baylon questioningly, and the Daltak merely shrugged as they cruised at low altitude above the surface.
“This, my new friend, is the result of the scortchet bomb. Whatever rock you were sleeping under probably prevented you from hearing about it, but the Fels used it to kill about a million of our resistance members and allies. It was bad, Rafian; I could actually feel them dying. Do you know what I mean?”
“I’m a Mera Ku monk; I understand more than you’d believe. Had I been here when this happened, the pain of our people alone would have killed me. Why didn’t she tell me this was what was going on? I would have never hesitated.” Rafian looked out at the blackened landscape with a heavy heart. “How long ago did this happen, Baylon?”
“It’s been a few months.”
Rafian pulled out the holo-disc and brought up the map. He punched in the coordinates on the ship’s computer. “We have another hour or so before we reach my destination, Baylon. Is there a hatch that you can drop me when you fly over it?”
“Yeah, the third bay room to the right; you will see a circular hatch on the floor. When you’re ready, just go back there and stand on it, then give me the signal and I will get as low as possible and let you out. Seems like suicide. You do know that Talula’s gravity is immense right? How will you survive the fall once I open that hatch?”
“I’m a skilled Phaser, Baylon, so don’t worry about it. I will call you when I land to ease your mind, but for the time being don’t worry for me. I have lots of tricks up my sleeve.”
Memory 19
The wind was a vicious, humid beast that tore at Rafian’s face as he fell from the old ship towards a patch of trees to the south of the camp. Baylon had let him out at about 20,000 feet, and when he slipped through the hatch and leveled himself out in to free fall, it felt as if he had fallen into a sauna.
The camp looked bigger than he thought, and from where he fell he could see a large bonfire in the center. He forced his arms down to his sides and then spread them quickly, activating the gliding wings that were a part of his pack. He glided away from the camp, caught an air pocket and spun, then dove down towards the trees by bringing his arms to his sides again.
To anyone watching him from the ground, he wou
ld have appeared to be a giant bird, performing tricks beneath the moonlight. He cruised above the trees, turned towards the camp and collapsed the wings as he tucked and rolled onto a grassy field that stretched between the forest and the campsite. He was still several hundred yards away from the camp, but he stayed low and touched his ear, activating his comm.
“Baylon, do you hear me?” he whispered.
“I hear you, brother, loud and clear. I must say, that was some fancy flying you were doing just now. Are you on the ground, or in a tree?” he joked, and Rafian grunted with disapproval.
“Listen, Baylon, take the ship to Jemi City and wait for me. When I’m ready, I’ll send you my coordinates so you can pick me up.”
Baylon confirmed that he would be waiting, and Rafian stood up and touched his wrist. He wore a small wristband with a number of dials and as he twisted them, he faded and became invisible. Unlike Marian, he had come to Luca with Phaser technology, and now that the Ranalos couldn’t see him, he sprinted towards the camp, zigging and zagging to match the wind.
He was up to the first tent in under three minutes, and he twisted the band to remove the “cloak” so the device could recharge. He pulled up a handheld vid communicator and lifted it up to his face, then moved it around to see where the traces of crystal would take him. One of the large tents in the center was where it stopped, so he packed away his tools and slipped between two dark tents, and then worked his way towards the center.
It took another ten minutes for him to reach the center but there was a large meeting going on between the Ranalos and a number of Tyheran freedom fighters. Rafian sank back a bit and then started walking towards Marian’s tent when he almost stumbled into a soldier. The man was stooped over a hole in the ground, relieving himself of the night’s meal. Rafian doubled back when he saw the man, whose back was turned, and his focus deadlocked on a magazine. The ground was soft dirt so it was easy to sneak, but he did not want to risk discovery any longer.