Merillian: 2 (Locus Origin)

by Christian Matari

  Though Marcus wanted to deny it, he knew there was truth in what Reid had just proposed. He downed half of his drink in one big gulp, cringing at its sour taste.

  Marcus looked back over to Serena and saw that Dasaan was leaning over to whisper in her ear, a sly look on his face. Marcus felt like storming over there, grabbing Serena by the hand and whisking her away from him. What could she possibly see in him? He wasn’t even human, and she’d just moments earlier balked at the notion of interspecies… romance. Yet, here she was, leaning towards him, smiling, legs crossed in his direction.

  “Marcus!” Reid yelled, right into his face, shaking him out of brooding.

  “What?”

  “I said,” Reid raised his voice, “Do you think the Ape would really get with an alien?”

  “I dunno. Probably,” Marcus muttered, in no mood for humorous ribbing. “He did get rather friendly with a goat on New Io.”

  “Are you alright?” Reid pressed. “There was nothing we could have done. Taz is completely at fault.”

  “I know. It’s… nothing,” Marcus lied. “What do you think about the new guy?”

  “He seems ok, I guess,” Reid replied, but before he could elaborate further, the doors to the club burst open. Both clones’ heads snapped around at the sudden movement. Quick on the draw, Reid’s hand was already on his sidearm.

  A pair of thuggish reptilian creatures marched through the wide open door. They bore a striking resemblance to the guards that Shikari had kept in the club on Semeh’yone, as well as the guardian they’d encountered at Oolan’s medical practice. What was it Roshana had called them? ‘Nerokan’… renowned for their military prowess.

  These two were clad in crude heavy armor plating, painted black with an insignia in the shape of a red three-pronged star emblazoned on their chests. Atop their broad, bulging shoulders were pauldrons with what looked like a pair of black talons jutting from each plate. Both humanoids wielded a formidable spear with black, serrated blades, although Marcus noted the handles of what he assumed were some sort of firearms protruding from behind their lower backs, within easy reach. As they each took up position on opposite sides of the entrance, a Sheshen of undoubtable influence strode in behind them. Though he wore a suit of armor that greatly resembled those of his escorts, his was a far lighter, more flexible version, and the insignia embedded in the middle of his chestplate was made from a trio of radiant rubies. His faceguard was a simple black mask with no discernible markings, only a pair of slits allowing him to see.

  Almost immediately, one of the lavender-skinned dancing girls jumped from the stage and flung herself into his arms. One of the Nerokan bodyguards proceeded to clear the path to a lavish booth near the rear of the club, one reserved for important guests. As the Sheshen took a seat with his female companion resting firmly on his lap, a male Ganyatti server was already standing by to take his order.

  Meanwhile, a wide-eyed Jago was getting pulled up onto the stage by a beautiful, long-legged dancer with small white freckles all over her luscious physique. Once on the stage, she began rubbing herself against him. Another dancing girl joined in and promptly began to undress the huge Terran. Marcus had never seen Jago sport such a devious grin, and was amazed at how unabashed his squadmate was at the thought displaying himself in public. No doubt he was firmly fixated on his prize and not his audience.

  As the Sheshen’s server walked past Reid and Marcus on his way to the bar to hand in his order, the dark-skinned clone held up a hand and called him over.

  “Do you speak Gaian?” he asked hopefully.

  “No much,” the pale-skinned waiter replied, clearly in a hurry, not wanting to keep the important guest waiting.

  “Can you tell me who that is?” Reid inquired, gesturing towards the Sheshen and his Nerokan bodyguards.

  “Him be Lishan,” the waiter whispered. “Son to Kesha Kun.”

  “Kesha Kun?”

  “Limatoi Rawo… Dark… Sun,” the server concluded, hurriedly pulling away so as to not leave his important guest waiting.

  “Must be some sort of big shot,” Reid shrugged.

  The female dancers had removed all of Jago’s clothes but his underwear, leaving him grinning from ear to ear in a pair of white shorts, completely oblivious to what was happening behind him as a male Ganyatti started to strip behind him.

  Turning back from the departing waiter, Reid noticed the unfolding scene and couldn’t contain his laughter as the male dancer came up behind the Ape and began stroking the big man’s bare back in a passionate manner, grabbing his hips firmly.

  Marcus started laughing as well, and before he knew it he was howling so hard that tears began to swell up from his eyes. He was pleased that the Ape’s antics were not only taking their minds off of recent events, but also drawing attention away from Dasaan and Serena, whom he knew he was only torturing himself by watching.

  “I think he’s in for more than he bargained for!” Reid gasped between gales of laughter.

  The female dancers each grabbed hold of one of Jago’s arms and raised them up, displaying his athletic physique to a crowd of giggling spectators. The big man’s expression slowly faded from one of glee to one of confusion as he realized that the whole club was laughing at him. As the girls began to slowly turn him around to face his would-be partner, he finally saw the reason for all the commotion. He froze in place, his eyes popped open in shock.

  Without warning, the huge clone sprang from the stage, landing on his feet and running as fast as he could to claim the empty seat in the darkened booth next to Reid. Neither Marcus or Reid could even managed to sit up straight as they convulsed with laughter.

  “Will you please go get my clothes!” Jago finally pleaded.

  When the laughter had begun to subside and a new performance had begun on the stage, Marcus spotted Kaiden coming running in through the front entrance of the club, making a bee-line for Captain Mitchell’s table. Her serious expression was like a bucket of ice-cold water down his spine, but he couldn’t make out what the urgency was all about from so far away.

  “Grey!” Mitchell’s voice sounded in his earpiece. “Raven’s gone missing!”

  Chapter 35

  In order to safely cover as much ground as possible, Captain Mitchell gathered the old squad and split them up into two search teams. The rest of the crew was confined to the hotel with strict orders not to leave.

  Marcus was getting really worried. Although Zorita was known for her independent streak and opinionated attitude, it wasn’t like her to pull a stunt like this. She’d left no message or any indication of where she’d gone, slipping out of the hotel when the support staff were all in their rooms, and her comms were turned off. Marcus had a sinking feeling she wouldn’t have answered them even if they weren’t.

  As they scoured the surrounding streets, desperation began to set in, for Taz most of all, who seemed determined to make up for his past failure.

  “What about the docks?” Reid suggested as they emerged, empty handed, from yet another sleazy drinking hole.

  “She loves that ship more than anything,” Taz added, doing his best to contribute.

  “She did kick up quite a fuss when we were forced to leave it,” Marcus agreed.

  “It can’t hurt to take a look,” Taz concurred.

  They ran off as fast as they could in the direction of the shipyard. It was already well into the night, and neither team was having any luck at all.

  * * * * *

  At such a late hour, the district of the city housing the Tengri was largely deserted. Only a handful of dock workers lazily catered to the few ships that still needed servicing, the occasional guard standing sentry outside closed compounds. It was very a different atmosphere to when they had arrived, the bustling shipyard district, now holding only a few aimless souls wandering its streets and concourses.

  Marcus and his fireteam hurried along the walkway leading up to the compound where the Tengri lay docked. The ship looked strange from t
his vantage point, her nose peering over a metal fence, windows dark in its lifeless bulk. A pair of Nerokan guards blocked access to the gate, rifles slung carelessly at their sides. One of them was pouring the steaming contents of a thick, polished metal flask into his lizard-like maw as the two bantered to pass the time.

  “Shitong ratadishi manshin ono agashiti,” the larger of the two announced as the three Terrans approached, its thundering voice stopping them clear in their tracks.

  Marcus suddenly realized that they might have come all this way for nothing if they were unable to make themselves understood.

  “Do you speak Gaian?” Taz blurted out hurriedly, before Marcus had a chance to react.

  The smaller guard pushed the other aside and stomped to within a hair’s breadth of Taz, his foul breath overpowering.

  “He say, no come here. No allowed,” the Nerokan grunted in very poor Gaian.

  “We are looking for our friend,” Marcus began to explain. “She may have been-”

  “No one come here!” the guard interjected, raising his booming voice. “You go!”

  The larger guard tossed his metallic flask aside and put one hand on the nasty looking rifle hanging from a sling on his shoulder. Its comically large muzzle looked like something Marcus would have expected to find on vehicle-mounted weaponry.

  “We don’t mean to cause any problems,” Marcus tried to explain. “We just want to find our friend.”

  “You go!” the guard repeated.

  It was obvious that the guards weren’t about to listen to their pleas. In the face of such hostility, Marcus led the others away, scanning their surroundings as they left the docking platform, hoping to spot even the slightest sign of Raven’s presence.

  As they made their way back through the shipyards they noticed an assortment of small bars and saloons catering to dockworkers and the few crew who didn’t want to venture too far from their ships. In a city of this nature, there were bound to be all manner of smugglers and lowlifes making short pit stops or simply waiting for cargo or passengers looking for discreet passage off Nos Shana. Marcus directed his team to start combing the sleazy establishments, looking for word of their missing pilot.

  After a good hour of information gathering, during which Taz overcompensated for his earlier lapse by trying to rough up anyone who refused to speak to them, they came across a shady looking Sheshen smuggler who claimed to have seen a dark-haired Gaian female sneaking around the dock foreman’s office. Excited to finally be on the right track, they called Captain Mitchell to inform him of their progress. The two teams quickly made arrangements to rendezvous at the site.

  Marcus and the others waited anxiously outside the foreman’s office for the captain and his team to arrive. With no means of determining what they were up against, Mitchell had ordered that they wait until the whole squad was together in case things got rough.

  The office itself was a three-storey structure growing out of another truncated tower, connected to the platform adjoining the Tengri’s docking bay. Orange light spilled out into the street from the structure’s handful of windows, each coated with a special film to prevent anyone on the outside from peering in, and no voices could be heard coming from inside. A tall fence enclosed a large courtyard to one side of the building itself, with stacks of crates and barrels rising up just high enough to be seen.

  As soon as they’d regrouped, Captain Mitchell began whispering tactics, ordering Reid and Taz to remain outside to act as lookouts in case anyone tried to flee, whilst the rest of the squad entered the building and began searching for any sign of Raven.

  “If there’s anyone inside, we’re just going to question them,” Mitchell insisted, looking pointed at Jago. “Don’t make any moves unless they come at you first.”

  “Yes boss,” the huge man agreed, wiping snot from his grotesquely overgrown nose before stuffing his head back into his helmet.

  “Good. Reid, you guard the left, Taz, the right. The rest of us will knock on the door and-”

  The captain’s orders were suddenly cut short as Jago kicked open the door with a roar of rage and charged in.

  “Not again!” Mitchell moaned, shaking his head in disbelief. “Ape!” he screamed as they charged in after him.

  Inside, a startled pair of Banthalo workers had apparently been engaged in a quiet game of tiles in a large, low-ceilinged room that seemed to take up the whole story of the building. They now stood with their backs against the far wall and their arms raised in terrified surrender. A third had been enjoying a meal of stewed, if questionable, meat, which he’d managed to spill all over himself as he’d fallen off his seat at the sight of the raging behemoth. Jago stormed past the cowering Banthalo on the floor and straight up to the bewildered workers against the back wall, jamming his huge laser right into the nose of the first one he reached.

  “Where’s Raven?” he bellowed, his lips quivering with anger.

  “Chosey cridi i?” the panic-stricken dock worker moaned.

  Marcus and Taylor ran to secure the other two, whilst the captain did his best to calm Jago.

  “Ape, stand down!” he ordered, putting his hand on the barrel of Jago’s massive weapon.

  Jago scornfully looked him in the eye and let out an intimidating snarl before finally giving in and backing off.

  Although relieved to have been saved from imminent death, the dockworker still trembled in fear as Captain Mitchell started tying his hands behind his back. The squad lined the three Banthalo up on their knees, side by side, as the captain paced back and forth in front of them.

  “Do any of you speak Gaian?” he asked, hoping he wouldn’t be forced to call on Serena for assistance.

  The captives just stared at the ground.

  “Grey. Go check their logs. There has to be a terminal or a log book around here somewhere,” the captain directed.

  “I’m not sure how much help that’ll be if I can’t read the language,” Marcus protested, drawing a grimace from Captain Mitchell. “I’ll see what I can do,” he conceded.

  “Doc, you go rummage around,” Mitchell ordered.

  The calm-headed medic lit himself a cigarette before slowly starting to search through a collection of crates near the entrance.

  “What can I do, Sir?” Taz asked, eager to help.

  “You can get out of my way,” the captain snapped, pushing the scout aside.

  Marcus soon spotted a computer console near a loading door at the far end of the room. He began methodically fiddling with its alien controls, trying to figure out how to operate it.

  Captain Mitchell continued pacing back and forth, periodically spurring Jago to hurl a stream of insults and spittle at their captives. After a few moments of this, he knelt by the one whose face and shirt were stained with his evening meal. He looked the foul creature straight in the eye, and even though any mortal man would have trembled at the sight of the hideous alien, the fury burning in the captain’s eyes was so intense that even the Banthalo felt forced to avert their gaze.

  For a moment, Mitchell attempted to force contact with the Banthalo’s mind, but all he could glean was the guttural gibberish of its native tongue and broken, meaningless images. Damn them, he thought. To gain anything useful, Mitchell would have had to lead him along the right path, fool him into recalling what the captain was looking for. To do so would require a dialog, one he couldn’t have without knowing the alien’s language.

  “We know she was here,” the captain continued his interrogation. “Tell us where she is and I won’t have the Ape here tear off both of your arms.”

  The frightened captive began sobbing and gestured clumsily towards a metal crate near the loading door, his arms still bound behind his back, spouting unintelligibly slurred words.

  A shadow crept over the captain’s visage. They wouldn’t have…

  “Ape, keep them still,” he ordered, the hint of fear in his voice was unmistakable.

  He went straight for the crate. It looked large enough
to hold a human body, especially one the size of Raven’s lithe frame. As he laid his hands on the metallic lid, a light tremor coursed through his hands. He closed his eyes, dreading the revelation he feared he was about to endure.

  With a quick flick of the wrists, he threw the lid to the side and opened his eyes. The look on his face was one of surprise and relief. He reached into the box and withdrew a handful of small vials no larger than his index finger, each containing a clear yellow liquid.

  “What the hell is this?” he demanded, taking determined strides back to his captives, his motorized brace creaking with each step.

  “Ti groppis,” the captive tried to explain, his oversized face bearing a very human expression of fear.

  Captain Mitchell shook his head in quiet resignation.

  “What is it boss?” asked a confused Jago.

  “Drugs, I’m guessing,” Captain Mitchell replied.

  “Sir, I’ve got something,” Marcus called, waving him over.

  Marcus had managed to bring up the building’s live perimeter security feed and then successfully backtracked to show a most revealing piece of footage.

  The image was drawn from the security camera in the courtyard beyond the loading door. It showed Raven climbing into the yard from the street and then peering over the three-meter rear wall, clearly trying to get into the secure area where the Tengri lay berthed.

  The squad stared intently at the screen as a group of Banthalo thugs crawled out of the shadows behind her, moving ever closer, each of them wearing the same type of black armor they’d seen on the Nerokan guards in the Zazunitse club. Raven remained oblivious to their presence as she reached up, seizing the lip of the wall with both hands, then busied herself trying to get her foot over too.

  One of the Banthalo took a shiny metallic rod from a holster on its belt and leapt forward, pressing the device against her back, producing a spasm which made her lose her hold on the fence. As she came crashing down, the thugs cheered and squealed with glee, praising each other for their find, their harsh voices recorded by the security equipment and playing back over the consoles tinny speakers.