Dhakhar

by Annabelle Rex

  I comm Mylan on my way down to the docks, let him know that he’s stepping in to my shoes for the next month or so.

  “I’ll keep you updated if we find anything,” he says.

  “You need to keep the other twenty-three safe, too,” I say. “He didn’t tell the Protectorate about them, so we have to assume…”

  Mylan just nods. “I’ll have Loran lockdown the room remotely for now, tell H’Varak you programmed the key to your biometrics if he comes asking questions.”

  It’s a good plan. H’Varak would have to have a really good reason to ask Mylan to override it. It will take him some time to think of one.

  “Do that,” I say, “and if he starts pushing for access, let me know.”

  “You got it,” Mylan says. “Need anything for the trip?”

  Probably not, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.

  “I’ll take one of the smaller equipment stores, I think. Just in case.”

  “I’ll comm the dock workers, have them transfer one out of the Firesong.”

  I thank him and end the call, pulling up the spec for the transport ship I’ll be using for this trip, studying it as I walk. H’Varak’s given me his personal vehicle to use - a Vetruen A class transport, meant for maximum comfort for an upper class Vetruen. Which means the shuttle takes two people, the Vetruen and his servant.

  And I’m the servant.

  Just in case I’d forgotten my place in the world.

  I have to focus on unclenching my hands.

  Things had seemed so pleasant with the princess at first. The way she’d done shaking hands with me, thanked me for saving her life, asked H’Varak why there wasn’t a third place at the table - I’d believed for a brief and wonderful moment that finally someone on H’Varak’s level, finally someone who H’Varak has to respect, was going to challenge him about his shitty behaviour. But the princess had attitude adjusted so fast, it was like I’d imagined those things happened. She’d read the power in the room and realised I wasn’t it, then I’d fallen so far beneath her notice she’d thanked H’Varak for the answer I gave to her question.

  At least her beauty won’t be a distraction anymore, now I’ve seen through that to the ugly on the inside.

  On the plus side of things, I get to do the transport run in a decent boat. Fast, luxurious. There are recreational facilities, including a gym, which the princess doesn’t need to know I don’t have permission to use. I can work out some of my frustration against a sparring bot.

  The Vetruen trio are waving goodbye to the princess when I arrive at the docks, bag of clothes over my shoulder, so at least I don’t have to deal with any of them. A dock worker lets me know my equipment has been loaded, then I head straight inside and locate the servant room. It’s small, the cot bed probably not big enough for me to sleep comfortably in, but it will do. On the way back, there will be nothing stopping me using the Vetruen suite. I can tolerate an uncomfortable bed for two weeks. I dump my bags, then head up to the bridge, familiarising myself with the controls. Like all military personnel, I’ve been trained in piloting basics - enough that I can get the computer to do most of the work for me. Most of the ships we used in the war were of Vetruen make, so there’s nothing here that I’ve not used in some form or another throughout the years. I reach for the ship comm and activate it.

  Polite, I think. Professional.

  Indifferent.

  “My lady, this is Captain Dhakhar. Welcome on board the Vetruen Starlight. I’m on the bridge preparing the ship for takeoff. I trust you’ve been shown to your quarters and made comfortable. If you could please make your way to the bridge now, we can depart for Earth as soon as possible.” I turn back to the controls but stop, hit the comm again. “The bridge is up the central stairway. Leave your quarters and turn left. As long as you keep heading forwards and up, you’ll get here eventually.”

  I’m almost all the way through the pre-flight checks when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn to see the princess standing in the entrance to the bridge. Unlike the Firesong, the bridge of the Starlight is small, barely big enough for her to get that stupid dress in. A fact she seems to notice as she looks round and then down at herself.

  “It’s very pretty,” she says, with a wry smile I don’t trust for a moment, “but I suppose it isn’t very practical. They’ve packed me some other clothes. I’ll get changed.”

  “You may, if you desire, ma’am,” I say. “However, it’s already quite late. You would be changing just to change again once we’re up to full speed and free to turn in for the night. I can delay our departure to allow time for you to change if you wish, or you can just… squeeze in.”

  She studies me a moment, her blue eyes lingering on my face. I watch the smile fade from her lips, keeping my own face blandly professional. Then she nods, scooping up her skirts and pressing through into the bridge. I pull out the passenger chair for her and she sits in it. I help her strap herself in, the harness thankfully not too impeded by the volume of material surrounding her.

  I settle back into my own seat, strapping myself in and finish the final pre-flight checks. The Starlight chimes to let me know she’s ready to go and I punch in the launch sequence, taking hold of the controls. She’s more responsive than I’m used to, even the lightest of touches causing her to wobble. She lurches under my indelicate hands.

  “You do know how to fly this thing, right?” the princess says, a hint of edge to her voice.

  Ah, here come the true colours again. She may not look like the Vetruen women, but I have to think of her like one. All smile and interest in you when in suits her, but contempt just a short way beneath it.

  “I’ve not flown this particular model before, ma’am,” I say. “Each ship has it’s own quirks - they take a little getting used to.”

  “Then get used to it quickly.”

  I grit my teeth against my temper as I edge the Starlight forwards, guiding her out towards the exit ramps. The interior bulkheads shut behind us, plunging us into darkness only interrupted by the dials and controls on the flight deck. I take a deep breath, calming myself.

  “It’s going to get noisy just now, ma’am,” I say, activating the magnetic seals on the Starlight’s landing struts. “It’s just the atmosphere being sucked out of the room.”

  The roaring starts. It’s always deafening for the first few moments, but as the atmosphere thins and less molecules of air are present to carry the sound, it quiets, until we can hear nothing at all. Then, the exterior bulkheads start to open. I release the magnetic seals and start the primary propulsion engines.

  “We need to get to a safe distance from Xentra before we can begin acceleration,” I say. “Should be about five minutes.”

  There’s not even a wobble as we leave Xentra’s gravitational field, the ship computers powering down the levitation thrusters perfectly in time with the decreasing gravity. Then we’re drifting, the push of the primary engines tiny. As we move past the outer arms of Xentra, the space beyond us is just starscape. As always, seeing it fills me with something akin to peace.

  “Beginning acceleration,” I say. “I suggest you sit back in your chair, my lady.”

  I dial the engine power all the way up.

  The punch of acceleration is more than even I’m expecting, slamming me into the back of my chair. The little ship hums with power, a marvel of engineering, and I think of Loran’s estimation that it would take a couple of weeks to traverse the distance between Xentra and the Human planet, Earth. In this machine, I could shave days off that. I give a whistle of appreciation, running my fingers across the edge of the flight deck.

  I turn in my seat to see the princess with her eyes pinched closed, knuckles white as she grips the seat of her chair. I’m not cruel, I don’t want her to be terrified or uncomfortable, so, with a little more softness than I allowed myself before, I speak.

  “The acceleration phase only lasts a few minutes, ma’am. It will be over in a moment.”

  She cracks on
e eye open, squinting at me as if to judge my sincerity. Then she nods, pinching it shut again.

  I can feel myself wanting to engage with her and it annoys me that I’m so gullible, so lured in by the pretty packaging. I always wondered how the Prenetashi managed to infiltrate so much of the Vetruen Empire, how no one noticed that they were planning to rip it apart from the inside out. But looking at the princess, I start to understand. People probably did know, but they allowed themselves to be convinced that something so beautiful couldn’t possibly be bad.

  I’m not going to make the same mistake. It may not be the fate of the universe at stake here, just my pride, but my pride suffers enough as it is. I’m not going to give this woman a way in, not going to let her get her claws beneath my armour.

  Another few minutes pass in silence, then an alert sounds from the flight deck - the ship letting me know that it’s reached ninety percent of its maximum speed. The final ten percent will happen much more gradually, pushing us up to full speed overnight while we sleep.

  “Okay, my lady,” I say, unclipping my harness. “Acceleration phase is complete. It’s safe for you to get up now.”

  She doesn’t look at all sure about it, but she unplugs her harness then gets slowly to her feet. When the floor doesn’t fall out from beneath her, she nods, and takes a few hesitant steps towards the corridor. I stand beside my chair, hands clasped behind my back, ready to assist if she requests it, but not about to offer her any help unsolicited.

  “Goodnight then, I suppose,” she says, looking small and uncertain.

  “Goodnight, princess,” I say, not letting the slight wobble in her voice affect me.

  It’s not even fifteen minutes later when I hear her approaching the bridge, and from the tenor of her footsteps, I can tell she’s not pleased.

  “I suppose this is supposed to be funny,” she says, her voice sharp, unamused.

  I turn in my chair to face her. Her eyes are bright, her cheeks flushed with anger. I hold in a sigh as I rise to my feet.

  “What’s wrong, my lady?”

  “This,” she says, holding out a bag to me.

  It has to be the bag H’Varak ordered packed for her. It’s fine Vetruen material, and from the stretching at the seams, stuffed full.

  “Are the clothes not to your satisfaction, ma’am?” I ask.

  I’ve been on the receiving end of this sort of ire from the Vetruens so many times before. It’s amazing to me how people with nothing to complain about can find so much to complain about. My job as the head of Law Enforcement for Xentra should be about security for the Station, and dealing with crime. As it is, ninety percent of what I do in Upper Xentra is arbitrate ridiculous arguments about tiny personal slights and perceived insults. I’m so tired of it.

  She’s bristling as she watches me unzip the bag, and I’m not sure if it’s what’s in the bag causing her reaction, or my at best apathetic interest in her fashion concerns.

  Then I get the bag open, material bursting out of it. But not a collection of different garments. As I tug on the material to work it loose from the bag, it comes away in one big lump. It’s one item of clothing. The only thing in the bag is another dress like the one she’s already wearing.

  Those vecking idiots.

  “What am I supposed to do with that?” the princess says.

  And I should be used to taking this sort of shit from her kind, but something about her tone frays my already frayed edges. Probably because I’m already thinking about where I can reroute us to so I can pick her up a useful selection of clothing, and the only good option is Denestra, a nearby miner colony which isn’t the sort of place that H’Varak will be thrilled about me taking her to. And he’ll be notified the moment I change the flight path, no way of avoiding that. So, even though this is not my fault, the fallout is inevitably going to land on my shoulders and that trio of giggling idiots will get away with another piece of malice.

  It’s a small injustice, but it irritates a mass of older ones. Every Vetruen of questionable background who kept their position in government after the war. Every Vetruen who profited from the mess their Empire made and continue to do so while others go hungry or homeless. Every incompetent, inexperienced Vetruen elevated to leadership positions in the army over seasoned soldiers.

  And one particular Vetruen General whose orders were so bad, my entire unit would have died if I didn’t disobey them. H’Varak’s giggling women are petty, stupid. But their impunity abrades that old wound - that the General was commended for his war service, while I got disciplined, his word taken over mine just because of who I am.

  So the next words that come out of my mouth are not the smartest.

  “I don’t know, Princess, wear it?”

  I mentally slap myself, but as her anger hardens in her eyes, I realise I need this. I need her to be awful to me. Need her to chase away the spectre of the woman who smiled as she took my hand, banish the memory of the shiver that went through me at the soft touch of her skin.

  “I am not wearing the same two dresses and the same… undergarments for two weeks!” she says, outrage in her voice and expression.

  “No, ma’am,” I say, defaulting to the approach I take with furious Vetruens - blandly agreeing with everything they say until their anger is spent.

  “This is an outrage! An insult!”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I order you to take me somewhere to buy better clothes.”

  Well, at least I can tell H’Varak she ordered me when he berates me for all this later.

  Chapter 8

  Charlie

  When I get back to my room, I lock the door then burst into tears. They come fast and jagged, ripping out of me. I bawl in the privacy of my room, muffling the sound with my pillow, lest the Captain hear me. Because I don’t think I could bear that.

  It’s as if I’ve finally processed the last of that drug they gave me in the hospital, the one that left me feeling all detached and calm. One look at that stupid dress in the bag those awful women packed me and everything I’d been not thinking about came rushing back in. Terror and panic and an overwhelming loneliness. So I got angry.

  Part of me thinks it was stupid. That I shouldn’t do anything to provoke him. But then, it did also make me sound like an entitled brat, which I suppose is in princess character.

  And it had felt good to chew him out. Anger is powerful. It burns through fear and all those other horrible emotions. Made me feel for a moment like I have an ounce of control over this whole situation. Until he went all bland and ‘yes, ma’am, no, ma’am’, straight to the nothing person he was during dinner with Commander H’Varak. That just made me feel like I’m the same as the Commander, and now I’m confused and annoyed with myself. I feel somehow dirty, like the Commander’s leering eyes are still on me.

  I miss Jason. I miss him with the sharpness of a slap. I should have woken up in his arms, should have laughed at his hangover and got him a glass of water and some painkillers. He should have given me a groggy thank you, and maybe kissed me if his breath wasn’t too toxic. We’d have watched a film he picked - because my documentaries are too boring - and he’d have dozed off again, snoring, and I’d have been annoyed because he always does this. Demands I watch his ‘good’ telly, then falls asleep instantly anyway. But his arm would have been slung round me, and I’d have been happy.

  But all this should have happened at least two weeks ago.

  The loneliness of that hits me hard and I realise, fully realise, exactly how far I am from home.

  I cry some more.

  I cry and cry and cry until I’m all cried out. No tears left.

  I have no idea what time it is when I get done, but I’m tired. Not tired like ‘it’s been a long day’, more tired like ‘I’m an emotional wreck and I just need to shut down for a while’. But, before I give in to that urge, I get up and go to the bathroom attached to my bedroom. It’s small, but there’s a sink that’s recognisable enough for me to use easily, s
o I splash my face with cold water and take a look at myself in the mirror.

  Puffy eyes stare back at me. I give myself a long hard look in them.

  “Pull your shit together,” I say.

  Because this isn’t about being nice, it isn’t about being happy. It’s about survival. I’m lightyears from home, utterly dependent on the Captain, and the only little bit of power that I have is my mistaken identity.

  I will not feel bad about using that power.

  I will not let myself feel confused and conflicted about it.

  The only thing that matters is getting home in one piece. Getting back to my family. Getting back to Jason.

  I imagine what Jason would say to me right now, and it’s funny, because though his face is hard to picture, I can hear his voice almost like he’s right here in the room with me.

  I know you’re a bit thick, love, but you’re not that thick. Come on. You know the rules when it comes to the pigs.

  You don’t think of them as people. You don’t trust them. You don’t engage with them. And if they have you in a corner you shut up except to say ‘no comment’.

  Which really isn’t so different from pretending they’re beneath you.

  The Captain is a space police officer.

  From now on, I’m going to remember who he is.

  And who I’m supposed to be.

  It feels like it’s been a long time when I wake, but without any way of knowing the time, it’s difficult to be sure. I’m not tired, and I can feel the beginnings of hunger, so I figure it’s the right time to be getting up.

  I head into the small bathroom attached to my room, grateful that the ship is at least stocked with toiletries, even if I can’t be a hundred percent sure what any of them are. There’s something resembling a toothbrush though, so I sniff the various containers in the drawer by the sink until I find one that smells something like minty. After an experimental taste and rubbing a small amount between my fingers to see if it froths up, I decide it’s an acceptable toothpaste substitute.