Merillian: 2 (Locus Origin)

by Christian Matari

  “Hell, that’s way too dangerous,” he gasped, turning his back on the stall and stealthily made his way to the others, hoping that no one had noticed his awkward fumble.

  Pushing through the throng, Marcus became intrigued by a stall holding a variety of electronics equipment. Small screens, handheld devices, even a pair of wrist devices lined the wall behind a peculiar–looking merchant. The alien was slightly shorter than the Terrans, and had a vaguely humanoid torso that rested above a set of four thick, insectoid legs, each jutting out in a different direction. Its long, slouching arms ended in three very long fingers with the knuckles prominently near the tip. A pale, lime-colored skin covered its naked endoskeleton. The creature’s head resembled that of the Nyari, the sworn enemies of the Terran Republic. A profusion of mandibles projected from what Marcus thought was probably the creature’s mouth. Sad black eyes were set beneath its low-hanging brow, one of which was obscured by a comically large cybernetic lens, from the side of which wires protruded, angling around to the back of the merchant’s small, angular head. A small disk-shaped drone with a series of blinking red lights hovered right next to the alien’s head, a small antennae sticking up from its rear.

  “What are those?” Marcus asked, pointing at the wrist devices.

  Before Serena had a chance to interpret his query into the Sheshen language, the hovering drone beat her to it.

  “A wrist computer with a holographic interface and network uplink,” the drone announced in a quirky, high-pitched voice.

  “Is that an interpretation unit?” Serena inquired, her eyes shining with interest.

  “It is an interpreter and messenger drone, cybernetically linked to my neural cortex. It interprets and transmits audio signals directly to and from my brain,” the drone informed them.

  “That’s amazing!” Marcus gasped. “Is it for sale?”

  Serena shot him a loaded glare, not bothering to hide her resentment.

  “Unfortunately not,” the drone proclaimed, drawing the makings of a smirk from Serena. “But everything else you see here is.”

  “So those wrist devices,” Marcus began. “Are they connected to some form of information network?”

  “Yes,” the drone announced proudly. “They come equipped with access to the Hiodan Interactive Virtual Environment.”

  “H.I.V.E.” Reid remarked, sarcastically. “Seriously?”

  “Why yes,” the drone proclaimed, clearly not understanding the tall clone’s reaction. “Do you wish to make a purchase?”

  “Guys, this is exactly what we’ve been looking for,” Marcus said to them. “With this we can hopefully access all the information we could possibly need.”

  “I agree,” Serena concurred. “How much is it?”

  “The 4-Matrix on your left comes with a wider holographic field and speedier neural link capabilities. It is produced by Ez’hylar Computer Systems and comes highly recommended. Its price is 6,700 credits,” the drone explained, the merchant crouching eerily still behind his counter.

  “And the other one?” asked Marcus, slightly taken aback by the heavy price tag.

  “The Data Miner 7-Series on your right is produced by Nobus Electronics and is considered an entry level device. Its price is 2,800 credits.”

  “That’s more in our price range,” Serena noted.

  Marcus engaged the comms in his helmet and contacted Captain Mitchell, who was pleased to hear of their find. He immediately transferred the sum to Marcus’ Pamco device.

  After completing the purchase, Marcus was again reminded of their initial objective.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know of a doctor around these parts who caters to, uh… Gaians?” he questioned.

  “I do,” the drone voiced. “Not many Gaians make the journey to Nos Shana, but I have heard of a Telorian named Oolan who has, on occasion, treated Gaian visitors.”

  “Telorian?” Marcus asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

  “Where may we find him?” Serena cut across him, happy to hear that their search would not be a long one.

  “I will upload the coordinates to your new wrist computer,” the drone sputtered.

  Marcus put the device on his wrist and clumsily activated it. To his surprise, the inside lining of the device began to expand, tightening around his armored forearm so as to keep steady. Almost instantly, a glowing orange holographic representation of their surroundings appeared in the air in front of him, projected by a small lens at the base of the device, a blinking red symbol a few blocks away indicating the location of Oolan’s practice.

  * * * * *

  Hanan Aru crept along the edge of a nearby skyscraper. The chameleon function on his armor rendered him virtually invisible as he shadowed his prey. The target tracker had locked onto their signature as they made their way along a narrow walkway leading from the market plaza to a secluded platform some two hundred meters away.

  It was too easy, he thought as he kneeled by the ledge, studying their movements. He was fascinated by Rodan Kesh’s interest in the group, and wondered what significance they held. These primitive beings had, he must admit, seemed somewhat capable when he’d shadowed them on the Hrūll refinery, yet they were so obviously out of their element, clueless to all the dangers lurking around them. As one of the best of the Iankari, the Etherium’s most capable operatives, he felt that the task he’d been assigned was somewhat beneath him. Nonetheless, he was a man of honor, and his debt needed repayment.

  Crouching and holding onto the ledge like a jungle cat, Hanan Aru set his sights on the nearest rooftop, some sixty meters away, across the street below. Without so much as a short run up to gain momentum, he hurled himself into the air, landing on all fours on the other side in absolute silence.

  * * * * *

  The holographic map had led them down an inclining catwalk that encircled a tall round structure. Its curving wall was covered in rust and layers upon layers of worn paint, streams of greenish sludge trailing down its flanks from overhead. Despite the surroundings, the blinking red dot on the holographic map indicated that they’d come to the right place.

  “This is it,” Marcus announced as they came to a stop in front of a small alcove at the bottom of the catwalk.

  In the recess some unfortunate soul had made its home out of a heap of ragged clothing and scavenged sheet metal. A sliding door of rusted, pitted metal was the only visible mean of ingress. Unable to understand the small keypad on the wall next to the door, Marcus proceeded to bang on the door instead.

  After a moment the door slid open to revealing a menacing reptilian creature with coarse greenish-brown skin, clad in dark segmented armor of some thick leather-like material, its bulky frame filling the doorway and barring entry. Its beady eyes were small, and set far apart on the sides of its broad, flattened head, on top of which an array of bristly spikes sprouted from its hairless scalp and curved towards the rear of the creature’s head. Rows of small, sharp teeth lined its gaping maw, which spanned the entire width of its head, its intimidating stare glaring down at them. The ominous creature held a short metallic rod in one hand, a glowing blue cylinder protruding from one end.

  “Anoshi bansho stugomi?” it snarled, its deep voice reverberating around what looked like a small reception area behind it.

  Serena squeezed past the others, clearing her throat as she prepared to answer.

  “Shung manshin shio ang kishie cabo Oolan,” she said, consulting her datapad for the translation she needed.

  The reptilian creature gave her a calculating look, then growled “Bansho shumati so,” and stepped aside to let them into the cramped, dimly-lit room.

  The huge alien waddled over to the back of the chamber, where a partially transparent curtain seemed to separate the doctor’s practice space from the waiting area. Marcus and the others took up position within the dingy antechamber. The only furniture was an uncomfortable-looking couch, standing up against the wall to the right of the entrance, its stained, hard-edged seats
doing little to invite them to sit down. To their left, a series of mirrors hung amongst an assortment of strange little trees and flowers growing out of a bed of pebbles, seemingly dug directly out of the floor of the room.

  After an awkward pause, the doorman returned, leading a truly bizarre creature into the antechamber.

  It bulked even larger than the reptilian alien who’d let them in, its hunching shoulders dragging along massive arms, each easily large enough to overpower Jago, at the end of which huge hands were clenched into fists that the creature planted, knuckles-first, on the floor as it swayed into the room. A series of bony plates ran the length of its thick upper arms and short stubby legs, which resembled small tree trunks propping up its massive bulky frame as it gracefully swung itself forward, almost as if it were walking under water.

  A small rounded head protruded directly from its chest, lacking anything that might function as a neck. Bulbous protrusion arose from its shoulders and upper back where the bony plates of its limbs ended, covered in a translucent membrane, but the most peculiar thing was the creature’s semi-translucent skin, which seemed to change colors ever so slightly, pink and purple when it first came through the curtain, shifting to yellow and orange upon sighting the waiting Terrans. Four spherical eyes, utterly black from edge to edge, sat in the middle of its small face, giving the creature an air of sadness which, coupled with the way its head hung between its huge shoulders, Marcus would have read as a look shame on a human. Beneath its eyes, a row of membranous tendrils hung from what appeared to be the creature’s downward-facing mouth.

  “Ehm… I think he must have misunderstood you,” Marcus said to Serena, as gently as he could. “There’s no way… he… could be a doctor.”

  Before she could reply, the four-eyed creature stepped forward, the color of its skin shifting yet again to a mix of faded orange and blue.

  “I aaam Oooolaaan,” it proclaimed, its tendrils writhing as it spoke.

  “You’re Oolan?” Marcus gasped, not fully ready to accept that such a strange creature could be an expert in Terran – Gaian – physiology.

  “What are you?” Reid asked, utterly fascinated.

  “I aaam Teeeloooriiian,” Oolan replied. “Hooow caaan I fiiix youuu?”

  Still astonished that this hulking alien could be the doctor they’d been searching for, Marcus was also taken aback that its fragile, fluting speech was as graceful as its movements.

  “What’s with the skin?” Reid couldn’t help but ask, drawing stern looks from the others.

  “Teeelooorian skiiin reeefleeects mooood,” Oolan explained, his tendrils forming into what Marcus had the weird intuition was a smile.

  The reptilian guardian moved up behind Oolan, holding out its metal rod and prodding him firmly in the back. A brief shock went through the doctor’s body, instantly turning its skin to a mixture of green and red tones as its limbs spasmed.

  Instinctively, Marcus went for his weapon, training it on the armored guard, but before he could react further Oolan had thrust out a huge arm, pressing the muzzle down to the floor.

  “Pleeease, nooo haaarm,” he begged. “I aaam ooowned by hiiis maaasteeer,” the Telorian explained.

  “You’re a slave?” Marcus exclaimed in disbelief.

  “I aaam,” Oolan replied with a hint of sadness in his voice.

  “Xio uo wai shito,” the reptilian guardian prompted with a sharp-toothed sneer.

  “Pleeease, hooow caaan I fiiix youuu?” Oolan pressed.

  “Ehm, maybe something for the guy who’s missing his knee,” Reid gestured as he hung onto Taz’s shoulder, gesturing to his wound with his free hand.

  Oolan approached, kneeling down slightly to get a better look. He grabbed a hold of Reid’s leg with his three gargantuan fingers, probing and prodding with his free hand.

  “Thiiis leeeg nooo gooood. Neeeed reeeplaaaceeemeeent,” he eventually pronounced.

  “Replacement?” Reid asked with a modicum of concern.

  “Cloooning wiiill taaake looong,” Oolan told him. “Syyyntheeetiiic reeeplaceeement iiis faaaster.”

  “And you have a compatible cybernetic component?” Marcus inquired.

  “Yeees,” Oolan replied. “Wiiill neeed neeeuraaal prooocessooor aaalso, tooo iiinteeerpreeet neeeuraaal siiignaaal.”

  “Fine by me,” Reid assured him. “As long as I don’t have to be carried around like a sack of potatoes and be jacked up on pain killers all day long then I say we go for it.”

  “How much will it cost?” asked Marcus, concerned whether or not they could actually afford the operation.

  “Eeeiiight thooousaaand creeedits,” Oolan announced. “Iiit wiiill taaake sooome hooours aaand heee muuust reeeturn aaa feeew daaays tiiime fooor teeestiiing.”

  “That should be fine,” Marcus conceded. “We don’t have much else to do but wait anyway. Let’s get it done.”

  Oolan proceeded to assist Reid into the back room to prepare him for the operation. As the others waited anxiously for his return in the antechamber, the reptilian guardian was never far away, breathing heavily and exchanging intimidating stares with the clones. Marcus knew it was odd that a creature as alien as Oolan had managed to instill them with such feelings of trust – even sympathy – but it felt right somehow. Perhaps, once Reid had recovered, there would be something they could do to help relieve him from his indentured servitude.

  Chapter 33

  Kaiden’s escort had taken her back to the hotel, making sure she arrived safely. The hazy sun had already set behind the towering buildings all around them, and the small square was lit only by flickering fluorescent lights, displaying alien symbols and a series of indecent illustrations. With the vagrants slumbering deep in inebriated sleep, the two were left alone under the makeshift awning outside the hotel’s doors.

  “You never told me your name,” she said to him, somewhat awkwardly.

  “Dasaan,” he smiled. “Dasaan Ang’wari.”

  Even though he was slightly shorter than she was, her rescuer had an aura of capability, a quiet confidence that Kaiden found deeply reassuring. He was her white knight. Or, she supposed, her lavender knight.

  “What are you?” she ventured.

  “I am Ganyatti,” he said with a small smile.

  “Ganyatti,” she smiled, faintly. “We’ve seen your kind before.”

  “My people are a common sight in the universe,” Dasaan explained, with a hint of sadness in his voice.

  “What are you doing on this world? It doesn’t seem to suit you.”

  “Among my people, I am an outcast,” he confessed, “forced to wander the galaxy alone. I came here in hopes of finding… something. Now I lack the means by which to leave.”

  “Why? Did you do something wrong?” she asked, taken aback by his revelation.

  “No. I did not do anything at all,” he assured her. “I am different from most of my people.”

  “Different how?” she pressed.

  “Just… different,” he said, offering no further explanation.

  “You might say we have that in common,” she admitted after a short pause. “We can never go home again.”

  “Why not?” he asked, his voiced concerned, his big, innocent eyes sparkling like star fire.

  She stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, experiencing an attraction she couldn’t comprehend. The draw she felt to him almost compelling in its fierce intensity. She hesitated on the verge of stepping closer to him, but before she had the chance to act further, she felt something brushing up against her leg. Instinctively she looked down, and saw something unexpected.

  “You have a tail?” she screamed, jumping away from him.

  Thoroughly confused, unable to comprehend her outburst, Dasaan stepped back as well, raising his hands in reassurance.

  “Yes. Does that bother you?” he asked, bewildered.

  “Of course it does!” Kaiden shuddered. “It’s… icky!”

  “Icky?” Dasaan frowned, not knowing th
e word, and unable to see why such a simple appendage would cause such a stir.

  “Terrans don’t have… tails,” she blurted, the look on her face one of embarrassed disgust.

  “Well... Ganyatti do have tails,” he tried to explain.

  “I know. It’s just that…” she tried to find the words that would allow her to conclude the conversation without insulting Dasaan even further.

  After a long silent pause she finally decided to change the subject.

  “Come on. I’d like you to meet someone,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him into the hotel.

  * * * * *

  Kaiden ventured into Mitchell’s small room, having asked Dasaan to remain in the hallway while she explained everything to the captain. As she recounted her harrowing tale, Mitchell began to use his telepathic abilities to gently scan her surface thoughts, taking great care not to reveal his talent. He began to pick up blurred images of events just as she described them.

  “Fucking Taz,” he stormed. “Always thinking with his cock. I swear, one of these days I’m going to have Taylor cut it off!”

  “Yes, Captain,” Kaiden murmured, the shock of what had happened hitting her again.

  “And Knoles?” Mitchell asked angrily. “Could he still be alive?”

  “They took him,” she whimpered. “I… I guess… he could still be alive.”

  Captain Mitchell reached out with his mind, attempting to force a connection with the missing crewmember. Though he had received rigorous psiops training, the distance made his task difficult. Kaiden began to talk, not realizing what the captain was attempting, but he raised his hand to silence her, feigning thought.

  Fleeting glimpses began to appear in his mind’s eye. He felt a great sense of urgency and despair as he caught a brief glance of the horrific scene as the ship’s cook was torn limb from limb, screaming in agony. Just as Mitchell established a firm connection with the dying man’s mind, he was interrupted by the door to his room suddenly slamming open.