by Cheree Alsop
Tariq’s shoulders tightened. “You didn’t hear?”
Liora’s heart slowed at the tone of his voice.
Mrs. Metis glanced back over her shoulder with a hand on the door of the small brown house. The windows were filled with golden light that cascaded onto the glowing yellow grass. “Hear what, dear?”
Tariq’s gaze flickered to Liora and she saw the loss in them. She didn’t know what she could say or do to make what was coming any easier.
“We’d better go inside,” he told Mrs. Metis, his tone gentle. “We have some things to talk about.”
Liora shut the door behind her. A small, fuzzy creature with a big nose and glowing curled horns sniffed her boots as she followed Tariq into the main room. A warm, spiced scent made Liora’s stomach growl when she walked past the warmly lit kitchen.
Pictures and drawings lined the brightly colored walls. A glance at one showed a younger Mrs. Metis with a man at her side Liora assumed was Rius. Two small children carried armfuls of flowering plants. Devren’s dark eyes and smile were unmistakable next to his younger sister.
Mrs. Metis motioned for them to take a seat.
“Let me get you something refreshing before we talk,” she said.
Tariq shook his head. “No, thank you. We’re fine.” He caught her hand and helped her sit on the chair near the couch.
There was a look of reluctance on Mrs. Metis’ face as if she guessed what he was about to say, but didn’t want to hear it.
“Maybe I should get you some tea,” she said, moving to rise again.
Tariq shook his head.
“Mrs. M, I don’t know how else to say this.” He blinked and his eyes shone brightly. He took a steeling breath and said, “Captain Metis was killed by Revolutionaries.”
Mrs. Metis shook her head. “I heard from him two weeks ago, and your friend said he is a good man.” She gave Liora an imploring look.
Liora wished she could take the woman’s pain away. She said gently, “I was talking about your son.”
Mrs. Metis’ gaze lowered to the floor. A tear trailed down her weathered cheek. “Devren’s a captain,” she said quietly. She gave a wavering smile. “Rius would be proud.”
“Would be?”
Everyone looked up at the young woman who stood in the doorway opposite the one through which they had entered.
“Kiari?” Tariq said in surprise.
“Hello, Tariq,” she said with a shy smile. Her eyebrows pulled together. “Why is my mother crying?”
“Your father passed away,” Tariq told her, his words gentle.
Kiari’s face paled and she covered her mouth with one hand.
“What about Devren?” Mrs. Metis asked.
“He’s alright; at least he was the last time I saw him,” Tariq told her. “We got separated. I was hoping he left news of his whereabouts with you.”
“We haven’t heard from him,” she replied, her gaze distant as though she saw memories instead of the people in front of her. “You should stay a few days in case we do.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Tariq replied. “We’ll give you some space. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Tariq and Liora left the room. The sight of Mrs. Metis and her daughter holding each other with tears streaming down their cheeks stayed in Liora’s mind. She followed Tariq out the front door and down a stone street lined with glowing plants.
Tariq didn’t say a word. He merely limped through the small, strangely lit town to a long building with a short roof. A blast of hot air along with low talking and the scent of brewed barley hit Liora when she followed him inside.
He sat at a table in the corner and motioned for two cups of the pub’s house ale. Liora nursed hers in silence, letting him cope with his pain however he felt best. People came and went from the pub; only a few glanced at the pair in the corner. Liora, with her back to the wall, eyed each of them. She didn’t know if the population of Verdan was querulous or calm. It seemed to be made of mostly humans, though a few Venticans and a Talastan ate at a round table across the room.
“They should have told her.”
Tariq’s quiet words caught Liora’s attention. He kept his gaze on the worn wood of the table in front of him, his eyes searching as if answers could be found in the scratches and scuffs that marred the surface.
“Why wouldn’t they tell her?” he mused. “The colonel swore Devren in himself. It was a priority. Unless his priority was having the ship manned to find the Omne Occasus instead of honoring Captain Metis.”
Tariq’s grip on his mug tightened to the point that Liora thought the goblet would break. She searched for something to say. Helping others cope in difficult situations wasn’t a strong point of hers. She would rather fight than talk. Comforting someone else in obvious emotional pain wasn’t something she had ever really done.
She could offer to cover his pain as she had once done for Devren; but Tariq didn’t know the extent of what she could really do. She preferred it that way for the mere fact that he still spoke to her even though she was a Damaclan. Being raised by the clan that was responsible for the death of his wife and child didn’t exactly bode well for friendship of any sort. While Liora didn’t have anyone she would call a friend, she cared for the crew of the Kratos more than anyone else in the Macrocosm. She hated to admit that the man in front of her came at the foremost of that caring despite his repulsion to her.
“Maybe Mrs. Metis preferred that you be the one to tell her.”
Tariq blinked, and his eyes focused slowly on Liora. She wished she hadn’t spoken when she saw the depths of emotion in his gaze.
“He was my father.” Tariq paused, rubbed his eyes, and started again, his words slurring a bit. “What I mean is, he was like a father to me. My pop,” his lips twisted slightly at the word as though he hated forming it, “He was a drunkard who felt that beating me every night was his duty as a father.” He let out a breath and said, “Sometimes he got a bit carried away. He had a cruel streak, and he liked to cause the kind of injuries that would linger.”
A tremor of empathy ran down Liora’s spine. She knew exactly what Tariq spoke of.
A sharp light came to his eyes that chased away a portion of the drunkenness and he nodded. “I know. I really do. When you were poisoned and I sent your body through the analysis machine, I saw the same kind of injuries on your body. Scars, broken bones that hadn’t been set correctly, burn marks, and tissue buildup from years of abuse.” He tipped his head as though he hadn’t just laid Liora bare with his words. “Your Damaclan gods are as cruel as my father’s. Do you suppose they merely watch while their worshippers torture children, or do they laugh along with those we were supposed to look to for safety?”
Liora didn’t know what to say. His analysis of her past struck like a fresh iron. She glanced away and saw several humans at a nearby table studying them with marked interest.
Tariq shook his head, his eyes glazed from the drink in his hands. “Kindness was foreign to my pop. Whatever he’d had once had fled when my mother died. I guess he couldn’t quite forgive the child that killed her by being born.”
Tariq leaned his face in a hand. His black hair fell in front of his eyes, hiding them from view. The humans from the table behind him spoke animatedly. Liora kept them at the corner of her gaze.
“When I met Dev and we found out we lived close by, I used to hang out at their house until Pop fell asleep. The times he caught me before I went over left marks I couldn’t hide no matter how hard I tried. Mrs. M and the Captain noticed. They started inviting me over for nights, then weeks. I practically lived at the Metises. They fed me, got me to school, made sure I had somewhere to go at night. Devren always talked about joining the Coalition so he could be like his dad.” He opened a hand as if freeing something. “I naturally followed. It made my pop upset, so it was my instinctive course of action. An insult he couldn’t dodge.”
Tariq lifted his drink, his head tipped to one side as he studied the golde
n liquid inside the goblet. “And now look what I run to when I can’t take it anymore. Like father, like son.”
Several humans rose from the table. Liora’s hand slid to her knife and she stood silently.
Tariq took a deep drink of the contents. When finished, he slammed the mug onto the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A bit of froth clung to the stubble on his chin.
“Tariq Donovan. Is that you, you yellow-bellied Terrarian?”
Instead of anger, Liora saw another emotion cross Tariq’s face. It looked like relief.
His gaze locked on hers. “Stay out of this fight no matter what.”
He spun and slammed his goblet into the side of the first human’s head. Another slugged him in the stomach. He bent over only long enough to gain his bearings, then he came up swinging.
Liora leaned against the wall and watched the fight with a touch of amusement. It was obvious the men weren’t trying to kill each other. The brawl looked like ten brothers fighting over the last cookie, if brothers did that sort of thing. The other patrons at the pub merely relocated to tables further from the scuffle and continued their conversations as if the same thing happened every day.
Tariq clocked one man on the jaw hard enough to spin him around before he hit the ground. His other fist connected with a bear of a man who merely grunted with the impact.
“You had to bring Granson,” Tariq muttered.
The big man’s face split into a grin. Tariq’s fist smashed the man’s lips. He ducked under Granson’s grab and spun, nailing the man in the groin with an undercut. The man gasped and stumbled backwards.
Two men tackled Tariq to the ground. He rolled to the right and threw the first into a table. The second punched Tariq in the face, splitting his eyebrow. Tariq blocked a second punch. He hooked the man’s leg with his own and tripped him. Tariq was back up before the man hit the ground. He glanced at the men who still stood. Everyone bore bruises that would hurt the next morning.
The red-haired man who had called Tariq a yellow-bellied Terrarian glared at him. “You were always trouble, Tariq.”
“And you were always ugly, Sveth,” Tariq replied.
Liora wondered if they would brawl again. The bruised members of the group looked from Tariq to Sveth as if unsure of what to do.
The red-head’s answering laugh shattered the mood. Tariq joined him.
“It’s good to have you home,” Sveth said, holding out a hand.
“It’s good to be back,” Tariq replied. He shook the man’s hand.
They both pulled Granson to his feet.
“Have you been living on rocks with that Coalition crew?” Granson asked as he stood gingerly. “I haven’t been hit like that in years.”
Tariq grinned. “We only eat asteroids in the Coalition. You know the saying.”
Sveth chuckled. “An asteroid a day keeps the scavies away.”
Tariq nodded. “I’m hoping Dev shows up here sooner rather than later. He’s going to have to up his intake of asteroids to keep them off his tail with our last haul.”
Tariq’s friends seemed to know better than to ask what it was.
“Care for a drink?” a man with a fat lip asked.
“Love one,” Tariq replied.
Chapter 4
Liora slipped out of the pub unnoticed. She hadn’t been in many towns by herself away from the hustle of the circus crowd. The quiet houses lit from within beckoned to her with their warm windows and the glowing flowers that swayed around the small porches. Rocks that appeared illuminated from the inside lined the road and kept her on course.
Liora had no way of knowing what time it was. It had felt late when they landed on Verdan, but without a sun shining through the thick atmosphere, she could only guess by the hush of the town and the lack of civilians visible that it was night.
Liora was torn between retreating to the Calypsan’s ship and exploring the planet. It didn’t feel right to wander through a town while the inhabitants slept, though she had dealt with enough of mortalkind in the past few days to want to avoid a rush of people during the day.
Liora reached the end of the cobblestone road. The rocks continued on, lighting a dim path that led into a jungle. Liora took a few steps forward and brushed the branches of the first tree with her fingers. Instead of leaves like most sun-lit planets, the trees of Verdan had long strands of branches that curled and twisted to the ground of the jungle. The branches glowed with blue and green light that started from the trunk and flowed in a steady faint glow to the ends of the branches.
The tree swayed slightly back and forth. It branches brushed the ground, deepening grooves that had been marked by a lifetime of the gentle movements. It looked as though the tree was writing on the dark ground. Strange scorch marks showed along the outside of the grooves.
There wasn’t a breeze. Curious about how the tree moved by itself, Liora stepped beneath the branches and put her hand on the trunk. Her fingers picked up a slight vibration. Liora glanced around to ensure that she was alone; she then put the side of her head against the bark.
A humming sound murmured in her ear. The note was low and pulsing in time with the movement of the tree. When Liora stood back, she could no longer hear it, but the swaying of the branches continued. Liora stepped away from the tree. The other trees of the jungle moved, branches drifting along the ground with the barest hint of a whisper across the dirt. The effect was eerie; the entire jungle swayed as if it was an animal that slept in the half-light.
Liora’s attention was caught by a small tube embedded in the side of the tree she stood closest to. Whenever the light pulsed, fainting light flowed down the tube. A glance at the other trees showed the same system. The tubes linked together, leading through the trees away from the town.
Lightning crackled across the dark sky. A few seconds later, thunder followed with a surge of intensity that made the ground rumble. The hair stood up on the back of Liora’s neck as light sparked through the jungle. The tree branches flashed and static coursed to the ground in flickers, charring the grooves in the dirt. The jungle looked alive, filled with swaying, crackling branches. Light flooded through the tubes attached to the trees, pulsing across the underbrush and into the darkness.
A brighter crack of lightning turned Liora’s head. The light struck a tall post in the middle of town. A horn sounded, long and low, reverberating against the houses and road. A moment later, doors opened and men and women flooded the street. They held staves with glowing tips and walked together toward Liora.
Liora stepped into the shadows that had returned beneath the tree branches and let the people pass. A familiar voice caught her ear from the last group of men.
“You’re selling volts to the Hennonites now?” Tariq asked.
“Do you have a problem with Hennonites?” Sveth replied.
“I’ve had a few run-ins with them. They’re not my favorite race,” Tariq replied.
“Ours, either,” another man answered. “But desperate times and all that.”
“Yeah,” Sveth seconded. “With the shortage up top, we’ve had to make up for it wherever we can. The scavengers are getting greedy. They’ve intercepted three Ospreys loaded with volts. We can’t afford to lose another. The Belanites won’t be forgiving if we don’t deliver to the Gaulded soon.”
Liora walked on silent feet through the jungle, tailing the group. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, sending static through the trees and into the tubes the citizens followed. With each flash of light, Liora ducked behind a trunk to avoid being seen.
“You need guards,” Tariq said.
“We’ve thought of that,” Sveth replied. “But mercs are expensive and you never know which way they’ll fly when it comes down to it. We can’t trust the Gauls after last time, and the Belanites refuse to send their own escort. What we need is you.”
“Me?” Tariq’s tone said he had guessed where Sveth was going.
“Yes, you. You’ve flown in enough battle missi
ons to know how to handle a convoy, and it sounds like you and Devren are on the outs with the Coalition anyway. Why not stick around?”
“I’m a medic, not a pilot, and I’m hoping things with the Coalition will smooth over given time,” Tariq answered, though his tone bore far less assurance than his words.
“Are you saying you haven’t missed the quieter life here?” another of the men asked.
“If you call that quiet,” a third called out after an exceptionally loud rumble of thunder sent sparks of light through the tubes.
“I’ve missed it,” Tariq said. His voice was so quiet Liora barely heard him.
“Someone else has missed you,” Sveth told him. The man elbowed Tariq. “Kiari isn’t so little anymore.”
Tariq shook his head. “She’s Dev’s little sister, and she’ll always be Dev’s little sister.”
“She’s the most beautiful girl in Echo,” Granson said, his voice a deep rumble.
Tariq glanced back. “Then why don’t you go after her?”
Sveth snorted. “She won’t give any of us the time of day. She’s been pining after her one true love. The evasive Tariq Donavan.”
Tariq shoved him. The red-headed man laughed.
“It’s true,” Granson said. “None of us can get anywhere with that girl. She treats us like garbage.”
“And that sounds like the girl for me?” Tariq questioned.
“You’re already garbage,” Sveth said. “You can skip her scorn.”
Sveth ducked out of the way before Tariq could put him in a headlock.
Liora paused at the edge of the clearing they reached. Most of the citizens from Echo were human, but there were several green-skinned Roonites in the mix. The men pulled gloves from their pockets. Sveth tossed an extra pair to Tariq. The citizens fitted round canisters onto a giant metal-worked box. The tubes from the trees behind Liora and many more in front joined at the box and several others scattered throughout the clearing. As soon as the top of one canister flashed white, another was put in its place. The full canisters were stacked carefully on a cart near the tracks until Liora lost count of how many they collected.