The Sons of Sora

by Paul Tassi

  The Black Corsair raised his hand with two fingers extended. Lucas felt a slight pressure in his neck. A nerve cluster constricting. Dark spots appeared in the corners of his eyes, then consumed his vision entirely, and he collapsed to the blood-soaked floor, almost thankful for the respite.

  29

  It was the end of summer, which in recent years had been the hottest time. Noah, desperate to get away from the endless noise of the Colony One construction crews, wandered through the woods, swatting at imaginary enemies with a broken branch. Eventually he stopped swinging the piece of wood around and tossed it aside as he realized he was working up something of a sweat in the heat. The wind momentarily rushed through the trees, offering a bit of relief, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

  Noah didn’t really like his new home, and hadn’t quite adjusted even in the year he’d been there so far. He didn’t understand why they had to keep moving. But they told him that now, this place would be where he’d stay until he was grown. His mother was being sent back out to fight the Xalans, and she promised to visit often. But mostly Noah was left to his own devices, running around playing with the smaller, younger kids. He was nine years old, but was as tall as some of the teenage caretakers at the colony. He felt like some sort of mountain giant from a fable. But some were nice, and he was told they were special, like him. They were all from the planet Earth, and as such they had to stick together. Noah asked why the colony wasn’t on Earth then, since there were colonies on lots of planets, but Keeper Auran just laughed at him. “When you’re older,” he said.

  Noah bounced on some flat rocks embedded in a stream. He slipped on the last one and frowned as his foot plunged into the shallow water, soaking his shoe. He soon forgot his misfortune when he heard soft crying from up ahead over the grassy ridge. He trudged up the hill and saw a little boy sitting on a stump.

  “What are you doing out here, Erik?”

  Erik looked up at his brother. He’d just turned seven the previous week, and his light green eyes were brimming with tears. Noah immediately saw that his black hair was tousled, full of bits of twig and leaves, and he had caked dirt and a small scrape on his face.

  “Nothing,” his brother said sullenly and turned back toward the ground. His lip was stiff and he was pretending he hadn’t just been crying.

  “Who was it this time?” Noah said, walking over and sitting down on the forest floor next to his brother, arms folded over his knees.

  “No one,” Erik said, staring straight ahead.

  “Heraklion? Lyon? Penza?”

  Erik looked at him sharply.

  “I said no one!”

  “Alright,” Noah said, staring out into the trees. Bird calls rebounded all around them and the sun was just starting to go down. “What did no one say, then?”

  Little Erik became alive with anger.

  “They said daddy didn’t kill the Des’crater! They said it was all made up and just a story to make people happy! Like how Kyneth and Zurana give us gifts every solstice even though they’re not real!”

  “Dad was real,” Noah said. “He did all those brave things. You can ask mom. She was there.”

  “Mom’s gone,” Erik said, downcast.

  “What did you do when they said that about dad?” Noah asked.

  Erik wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

  “I said they were wrong and they said I was a liar. Herak—Someone pushed me into a bush,” he said, touching his hand to his scratched cheek. “And everyone laughed.”

  Erik was a year older than the kids at the colony, but smaller than many, including some of the girls.

  “I wish daddy was here to tell them all what he did,” Erik said. “Then they would have to believe it.”

  “Everyone believes what dad did,” Noah said. “The whole world does. The other kids are just teasing, you can’t let it bother you.”

  “I hate it here!” Erik cried out, slamming his tiny fists into the sides of the stump. “All the kids are so mean. I miss Kyra. She was nice.”

  Noah hadn’t seen Kyra for a long time now. Keeper Auran said he couldn’t any more, and Noah had been upset about it for a long time. But slowly, he was almost forgetting about her with so many new kids around. Noah was surprised Erik still remembered her.

  “You have to get used to it,” Noah said. “The kids here are like our new family. We’re all from Earth. Like mom and dad.”

  “You’re from Earth,” Erik said forcefully. “I’m from Sora. I heard the guards say Earth is a bad place. They say that Earth did that to you.”

  Erik pointed at the scar on Noah’s arm and shoulder.

  “We’re from both places then,” Noah said, itching his arm. “And we’re brothers, so you have to listen to me. Don’t let the other kids bug you.”

  “I’m going to run away and make my own planet,” Erik said matter-of-factly. “It will be better than Earth or Sora. Only nice people can live there. Like mommy and Kyra and Keeper Auran.”

  “What about me?” Noah asked with half a smile.

  Erik took a minute to deliberate, and finally rolled his eyes.

  “Fine,” he said, “but only if you let me be leader.”

  Noah chuckled.

  “Alright, well, if you want to be the leader that means you have to be nice too. So no fighting with the other kids, no matter what they say or do.”

  “If they’re mean, I’ll be mean,” Erik said grumpily, kicking at the dirt with the sole of his boot.

  Noah just sighed and shook his head. His brother was silent for a while.

  “When I grow up I’m going to do brave things like daddy,” he finally said. “Everyone will remember me too.”

  “I’m sure they will, Erik.”

  “Move!” a thin, dark man with a dozen rings through his ears shouted at Noah as he pushed him aside in the dimly lit room inside the Black Wings compound. Noah grimaced as he hopped on his good leg; his other one was currently being held together by bent steel and cloth, and his head was swimming from a blunt syringe full of painkillers.

  Erik was laid out flat on a table, coughing in fits, spitting up congealed masses of blood, his eyes darting around in terror. Tannon’s corpse was on the floor in the corner, covered by his own bloodied cloak. Despite the supposedly mellowing effects of the medication, Noah’s heart was racing while he watched the earringed man they called “Wax” try to stitch up his brother’s wounds with gel. He was the gang’s resident combat medic, it seemed. Celton was next to him, running analysis on the poison blade they’d brought back.

  Noah looked around for his hammer and saw it discarded on the floor like a piece of scrap. He tried to reach for it, but his sense of balance was warped and he almost fell over. He looked back toward his brother, who started convulsing on the table like he was possessed by a demon.

  “Seizure!” Key shouted as she tried to hold him down by the legs. She was missing the top of her ear, but didn’t seem to notice. Noah hobbled over to press down on Erik’s shoulders. His brother’s eyes were white, completely rolled back into his skull. Foam and blood erupted from his mouth again like a clockwork fountain. The alleged medic grabbed his jaw and turned his head so he wouldn’t choke on the mixture.

  “I’m reading some sort of clorixine compound,” Celton said loudly over the din of the room, looking at a stream of floating data.

  “Clorixine?” the medic asked, dark eyes flitting back and forth. His fingers ran over an array of needles laid out on a nearby side table. He finally picked one and plunged it into a spot just under Erik’s armpit. The syringe clicked and shot a mixture of pale orange liquid into his brother.

  “What is that?” Noah asked, words slurring.

  The medic withdrew the needle and tossed it back on the table. Erik’s convulsing stopped, his eyes closed. Blood tricked down from the corners of his lips, but was no longer erupting from his mouth.

  “Coma,” the medic said, looking at the digital scroll Celton placed before him. />
  “You put him in a coma?” Noah asked. The medic glared at him like he was an imbecile.

  “Slows the spread of clorixine. Buys time to mix up a proper cure.”

  “Will … will he be alright?” Noah asked, looking down at his unmoving brother.

  “Ask the gods,” the medic said, waving his hand dismissively. “I cannot say.”

  As Tannon lay dead and his brother was possibly dying in the medical wing, the rest of the camp was celebrating. Despite heavy losses, the theft, prison break, and subsequent attack on Solarion Security headquarters had destabilized the organization’s hold on the station. Zaela was boasting to her troops about all the new equipment she was already procuring with the billions of marks pilfered from SolSec before the attack, and news was spreading that Commander Hayne himself had been killed in the assault. Rival gangs were now taking down SolSec outposts on their own initiative, and a few were even showing up to pay tribute to Zaela, the new presumed leader of Solarion. The noise of the party being thrown in the main hall was louder than the actual battle had been.

  Using his hammer as a makeshift crutch, Noah shoved his way through legions of raucous Black Wings, many trying to thrust a drink into his hand. His part in the day’s events was well known, but he was in no mood to celebrate anything. Tannon Vale was dead. His brother could follow him soon. It was all he could do to keep from coming apart at the seams.

  Noah ducked into a hallway and pushed a wooden door out of his way. He slammed it shut behind him, which only muted the noise slightly. The room was a mess, and on the stained foam mattress sat a shivering figure covered in soot, dirt, and flecks of blood. Sakai was whimpering, and raised her head as the door shut.

  Her eyes were angry.

  She ran up to Noah and struck him across the face so hard he could feel it even through the meds for his leg. When he looked at her, stunned, she did it again. He caught her hand on the third attempt.

  “What are you doing?” he cried, rubbing his face and releasing her wrist.

  “What are you doing?” she shouted back, tears in her eyes. “You would risk everything for … him? For that little psycho?”

  “He’s my brother,” Noah yelled, his temper spiking. “And now he could be dead in a matter of hours!”

  “Well, that’s what having a death wish will do to you,” Sakai shot back. “He could have had the decency to go off on his fool’s quest without dragging you and Tannon along! He’s dead! The man is dead now because of your stupid brother, and you could have died trying to save him too!”

  “I had to—”

  “You had to do nothing,” Sakai said with steel in her voice. “You say he’s your brother, but aside from the fact that he just physically is not, what has he ever done for you, other than almost get you killed? Why would you feel like you owe someone like that anything? Why would you turn and leave me to go after him?”

  “You were safe,” Noah said. “Zaela was taking you out of—”

  “We were safe, huh? Tell that to SolSec soldier who jumped on the back of the aircycle who I had to stab through the eye. I was far from safe. But that’s fine, I can take care of myself. But what I can’t do is deal with the fact that when it came down to it, you chose him over me. You chose the ‘brother’ who would risk all our lives to get revenge on some nobody who disrespected his crush. You chose him over me, the girl who loved you more than anyone has ever loved you, even your own family.”

  That pierced Noah like a poisoned sword.

  “A great man is dead because of your brother,” Sakai continued, “and you’re still apologizing for him. I’m done with the both of you. You’re just as bad as he is if you can’t admit that if he’d just gone with the plan, all of us could be alive and well right now, him and Tannon included. Now you tell me he’s dying? Well whose fault is that? Maybe your beloved gods are punishing him for his collective sins at last. Or maybe he finally got his wish to die the hero. Hopefully Kyra will appreciate that.”

  Before Noah could even open his mouth again, Sakai shoved him aside and flung open the door. She stormed out into the crowded hall, and he lost sight of her in the mass of dark bodies.

  His shock soon boiled into anger of his own. He shouldn’t have gone after Erik? Not to save his brother? Not even to try and help Tannon? Erik had done many terrible things, but he was family, blood or otherwise. And despite his recklessness, he’d rescued their father and Malorious Auran, and helped kill a warlord responsible for the murder, rape, and torture of untold thousands. He deserved to die for that? What right did Sakai have to say such a thing, even in her grief?

  Noah punched the closed door, which cracked and sent splinters into his fist. He couldn’t even feel them. His hammer fell to the floor with a metallic thud, and he sat down on the mattress, burying his face in his hands.

  Or was Sakai right? Was his brother just a reckless, vengeful idiot who had gotten a great man killed? One that had been more of a father to both of them over the years than any supposedly dead war hero? Noah didn’t know what to think, but he certainly didn’t want Erik to die regardless. Sakai hadn’t seen his suffering from the clorixine poison, shaking and vomiting and during brief moments of consciousness, looking terrified. No one deserved that. The coma was a mercy.

  Noah shivered as the edge came off his painkillers. He blinked, and nothing felt real. He’d lost Tannon, possibly his brother, and certainly Sakai, it seemed. It was a nightmare. But he couldn’t wake up.

  He shook his head violently and rose to his feet. His broken leg was tender, but stable with the makeshift bracing. Picking up his hammer, he wobbled to the door and threw it open. This time, when Noah reached the hall he took the first drink handed to him and drained the entire thing, ignoring the liquid fire that burned as it tumbled down his throat. It tasted like hovercraft fuel smelled. He grabbed another, and contorted his face into a forced smile as a trio of Black Wings smashed their cups into his in celebration. The liquid sloshed and he downed the remnants quickly. He tossed the clay container over his shoulder and had picked up another before the first one shattered on the ground.

  Hours later, Noah had no idea where he was, nor how long it had been since he had stumbled out of the Black Wings compound. He squinted to try and read the signs to at least figure out what level of the station he was on, but the numbers were blurred beyond recognition, as was most everything else around him. There was yelling and screaming, and something that very much looked like fire coming out of the windows of a building ahead. The warhammer that he was still using to brace himself stopped when it hit something metal. Noah looked down and saw an armored body with a red sun on the breastplate, resting in a shallow pool of blood. The figure was missing a head, and Noah gingerly stepped over it, almost losing his balance in the process. He remembered enough of the events of the day to realize there was some sort of rebellion in progress, a backlash against SolSec. He didn’t want to remember anything that had happened. What good was drinking if he still remembered?

  Whatever he’d consumed paired with his cocktail of pain meds was wreaking havoc on his coordination. He kept almost losing his grip on his hammer, but catching the handle just at the last second. The entire station was in chaos. Figures ran by too fast for him to see what they looked like, but he supposed he looked no more out of place than anyone else.

  “Hail, offworlder!”

  He supposed wrong.

  Noah wheeled around to where the voice had come from behind him, nearly falling from the sudden movement. Ahead of him were three human-like shapes. His eyes were unfocused, and he could only make out milk-colored skin, long, stringy black hair, and the color green.

  “That’s an awfully nice hammer to be used as what, a cane?” the middle man said, his voice nasal and tinged with a slight East Kullan accent. The others snickered. Noah opened his mouth and no words came out, just a jumbled collection of vowels. More snickering.

  “Tall, pretty boy like you looks tank-bred. Maybe one of those boy toy
jobs from Dakarian?” the man said, leaning toward him.

  Another unfortunate memory hit Noah. Three pale, long-haired men in green, stabbing a man to death in the lift. He had no idea if this was the same group, or simply other members of the same gang. At present, their faces were blank spheres of nothingness, his eyes too bleary to focus on them.

  “Earthb—” he spat out. “Earthborn.”

  Why are you telling them you’re Earthborn? his mind snapped at him.

  “Did you say ‘Earthborn’?” the man said, and the other two were now doubled over with laughter. “Well, nice to meet you, I’m Madric Stoller,” he said, roaring hysterically.

  One of the other men stopped laughing.

  “Ya know, he does sorta look like the one of ’em.”

  The first man waved him off.

  “You’re high, Yassa, let’s just gut him and see what we can get for that hammer.”

  Noah’s eyes caught the flash of a silver knife. On instinct alone, he whipped the hammer around toward the man wielding it.

  The swing was a lot faster in his own mind. The lead thug looked surprised as he jumped back, the hammer missing his face by a solid foot. Unfortunately, its primary purpose was keeping Noah upright, and as the hammer came around, he toppled to the pavement like a felled tree, fresh pain shooting through his caged leg.

  “That was a lively attempt,” the thug said, standing over the downed Noah. “But I’m bored now.”

  Noah reached for his hammer, but he’d lost it in the fall, and it was a few inches outside of his reach. The pale assailant raised the knife with both hands and stabbed downward forcefully. Noah did the only thing he could, and raised his hand. The knife slid through his palm, and the shock was too great for him to even scream. The hilt hit his fingerbones and the blade stopped half a foot from his chest. Noah forgot about the pain, already masked by whatever was in his system, and grabbed the man’s dirty cloth collar. He wrenched the thug downward so his face smashed into the pavement and he lost his grip on the knife. Noah pulled the blade out of his palm with his other hand, and jabbed at the neck of the now-dazed man. His diminished motor skills missed the intended plunge into the thug’s throat, but he sliced along his skin, right through a black cracked skull tattoo. Blood shot out of the cut like a geyser.