by Delia Roan
Every part of her, he amended.
Yet, he couldn’t ignore the giant warning signs flashing in his brain. His desire for Mara was misguided and misplaced. Nothing but bad times lay down that road.
Focus on Haven. She needs you.
After a good scrubbing with cleansing foam, he stepped out of the bathroom cleaner, but unsettled. Now that the coolant had been redirected, the living areas were no longer dangerous. That meant he could direct his attention to the next pressing matter: what to do with the humans.
He sat at his desk, and pulled out his comm. He sat for a moment, debating with himself. He should call the Ykine and arrange a pickup for the PETL Cells. Ykine were not known for their reasonableness or patience. Haven needed their money, and every day that ticked by meant another day of failing systems.
Instead, he found himself calling his contact on New Trades. Jrak answered, and when he spotted Syrek, he smiled widely, revealing his sharp canines. “Why, if it isn’t my second favorite Ennoi, Syrek Ar’Zathis!”
“Second favorite?” Syrek raised an eyebrow. “In all matters, the Ar’Zathis come first.”
“Second favorite, only because I pay you for your services. My first favorite Ennoi pays me.” Jrak fluttered his golden eyelashes at Syrek. “You could move up in the ranks, you know.”
“Maybe today is that day.”
Jrak straightened, his playful demeanor vanished in a flash and he was all business. “What do you need?”
“Depends on how much it will cost me.”
“Depends on how much you want.”
“Fair enough,” Syrek said. “I need some information. Went on this mission the other day.”
“Who hired you?”
Syrek smirked. “Nice try, but that’s confidential. We… encountered some Sykorians. Know anything about humans?”
Jrak hissed. “Stop right there.” His eyes narrowed and he ran a hand across one of his high cheekbones. He tapped a finger on his chin, studying Syrek. “I’m not going to charge you for what I am about to say, but I will expect you to listen closely.”
Syrek leaned back. His spine tingled. While Jrak had a flirty attitude, he had always been straightforward and businesslike in their dealings. Something about this conversation had shaken Jrak, and his nervousness seemed to spread to Syrek. “Go on.”
“You do not want to ask too many questions about humans. Don’t get involved with humans.”
Syrek leaned forward. “Why?”
“They are bad news. If you are involved with Sykorians and humans, find a way to not be involved.”
Syrek frowned. “Can you provide further explanation?”
Jrak sucked his teeth in irritation. “You Ennoi. Never listen. How long have we been doing business?”
The question took Syrek aback. “A few decades?”
“And before I dealt with you, I dealt with your father. The Ar’Zathris have been good to me. And to my wallet,” Jrak said. “Which is why I’m telling you to drop this business.”
“The business with humans?”
“The mercenary business,” Jrak said.
Syrek shook his head. “You know that’s not happening.”
“It’s not healthy,” Jrak said. He dropped a shoulder and pouted. “A big gorgeous boy like you shouldn’t be involved in such dirty work. You should settle down.”
Syrek laughed. “Find a wife and raise some kids?”
“No, not like that. I can’t think of a single woman who would want you.”
Jrak was being flippant, but the words still stung after Mara’s panic at seeing him. “Then how?”
“Settle down into a steady job. I know a legitimate businessman. An Ennoi even. He’s looking to expand his shipping business. I could put you two in touch? For a small fee, of course.”
“No,” Syrek said, flatly. “This is all I know. This is all I do.”
“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“I do. The next time I’m at New Trades, I’ll bring you some more Temanzyme.” Over the past decade or so, Syrek had been bringing Jrak the life-saving drug for his other Ennoi client, a man Syrek did not know.
“Don’t need any more.”
“Why? Your client die?”
“No. Worse.”
“What could be worse than dying?”
“He fell in love.”
With a shrug and a wave, Jrak hung up, leaving Syrek pondering everything he had said. Retire from the mercenary business? He tried to picture it: coming home to a warm house, with a sweet wife waiting to kiss him by the door. A few children running underfoot. In his vision, his wife had long brown hair, dark skin and brown eyes…
He shook away the daydream. Syrek was as far from domestic as possible. He intended to die on his feet, in the thick of a firefight, instead of in his bed, surrounded by bored relatives faking tears while they waited for a cut of their inheritance.
He was still thinking about the implications of retiring when his comm buzzed again. Syrek cursed. The Ykine liaison.
“Of all the lousy timing…”
The blinking light on the comm mocked his indecision. His father would never have hesitated. Zathlassan would have ensured he fulfilled his contracts, and would have slept soundly each night, knowing he was master of his kingdom. Syrek could not, and would not, do the same. Lives were at stake.
Haven needed him.
He had stalled for long enough.
Time to get it over with.
He flicked on the comms, and bowed to the tall insect-like creature on the screen. “Greetings, Dignitary Ukali.”
The dignitary resembled the Ykine workers Syrek saw in the background, but the resemblance ended there. While the workers were mindless automatons, programmed to obey, Ukali had been favored by his Queen. She allowed him to develop his own mind, so he could serve as her liaison with the outside world. Syrek knew this because he had researched the Ykine as soon as they had contacted him with a job offer.
Ukali chittered, moving his mandibles, and the translator in Syrek’s ear filled in his words. “According to our sources, the Sykorian ship did not reach its destination. Do you have the ship, Mercenary Syrek?”
Syrek nodded. “I do, Dignitary Ukali.” He paused for a second. “However, there is a complication.”
“Complication?” Ukali’s antenna waved, and his many faceted eyes twitched. “Complications? We do not pay you for complications.”
You haven’t paid me at all so far, Syrek thought.
“A minor complication,” he assured the Ykine liaison.
“So you say, Syrekayan Ar’Zathris, but we Ykine have many years of dealing with your kind.”
Syrek raised an eyebrow. “My kind?” He didn’t bother to hide the edge in his voice.
“Mercenaries,” clarified the Ykine.
“There are many mercenaries in this universe,” Syrek said. “Yet, the Ykine Queen chose me. And you know why? Because I’m Ennoi. I live and die by my honor. You know this, Dignitary. My word is my bond. I will not fail you.”
“Yet, there is a complication,” said Ukali.
“I never said it was a complication for me,” Syrek replied. “Instead of the five PETL Cells you hired me to acquire, I acquired nearly a hundred.”
For a second, the Ykine was speechless. “A hundred?”
“Nearly.”
“This changes matters.”
“It does indeed,” Syrek said, tucking his hands behind his head. He wasn’t certain why the Ykine needed the cells, but he was betting they would take the lot. “Which is why I propose a small amendment to our contract. Instead of delivering the cells, you come to Haven instead. You can claim your original five, and also negotiate the terms for the larger bounty.”
The liaison agreed immediately. “I shall come in person.”
Perfect.
It was exactly the outcome for which Syrek had hoped. By making the Ykine
liaison travel to him, Syrek had bought some extra time to figure out what to do with the human sleepers. Plus he had ensured he would receive a larger payment, because if the Ykine were desperate enough to come to him, they would be desperate enough to pay through the nose for the PETL Cells.
By the time Ukali gets here, the mess will be handled.
“It will be a pleasure to see you,” Syrek said, leaning forward to end the transmission. His finger hovered over the button, when Ukali spoke again.
“Of course, I will not come alone,” Ukali said.
Syrek froze, and his eyes flicked to the Ykine’s inscrutable face. “Of course not, Dignitary Ukali. I will prepare chambers for your party.”
“No, Syrekayan Ar’Zathris, you misunderstand me,” Ukali said. “I will come with an army. If you step out of line. If you give us any indication that you bargain in bad faith, we will decimate your people. Farewell.”
Syrek’s blood ran cold. At any other time, the Ykine’s threat would have been laughable. Haven was a fortress at the best of times. Right now, times were not the best. With the coolant crisis, the weapons were offline. The Ykine could destroy Haven if the whim took them.
His fists clenched.
No, I will not let them threaten me.
No matter what it took, if he had to protect Haven, he knew he would make the correct choices.
CHAPTER TEN
MARA
The sanitation chambers needed to be flushed in preparation for how stagnant the plumbing would become during the shutdown. If they started with clean pipes, Haven could last longer without the service.
Mara and the others in the janitorial crew worked long hours, scrubbing the holding tanks, checking them for leaks, and ensuring that the seals on all the pipes were tight. Mara found she enjoyed donning the protective gear and stepping inside the massive holding tanks. She scrubbed with a bristled broom, cleaning the interior of the sewage tanks. With the breathing gear on, the stench was minimal, and they stepped through the decontamination foam before removing their masks.
In the morning, she would wake up aching, but a feeling of contentment began to grew in her heart. She saw the results of her work when the tanks gleamed, or when the pipes in the kitchen stopped rattling and gurgling. The gray water drained away to the gardens or to be cycled clean again for tomorrow’s meals.
More than those simple pleasures, she’d managed to break the ice. After sitting with the other women at their Casters game, she had become an accepted member of their crew. Luall gave her the final piece of the puzzle one morning, when she had thrown down her broom and complained that she was bored hearing about the Sapylex mission for the millionth time.
“We hear all the same damn stories every single day,” Luall said, her hands on her hips. Her little feet drummed on the floor in a beat. “I want something different.”
Mara kept scraping at a stubborn stain and ignored her outburst. Lately, Luall seemed discontent with everything. “Out, damned spot,” Mara muttered to the stain. “Out, I say!”
Clez, who had been telling the story, sneered. “Come up with your own story, then.”
“I have a story,” said Mara. She didn’t expect anyone to hear her, but heads turned in her direction.
“Tell us, then,” said Luall, picking her broom back up.
“Okay,” said Mara. “It’s about a Scottish warrior. His name is Macbeth.”
After Macbeth, she told them the story of Ebenezer Scrooge. The longer she spoke, the happier the workers around her became, and the happier they became, the surlier Clez became.
“Tell us another human story,” Gymari said.
Mara tilted her head. “Well-”
“I am done listening to human stories,” spat Clez. “Do all humans gab as much as you, worm-food?”
“Clez,” said Luall. “Behave.”
“No, she hasn’t shut up since she arrived.” Clez rubbed her eye with a knuckle. “Boo-hoo! I’m so sad! Waah!”
Mara hunched her shoulders, and she pulled the broom in front of her, shielding herself from Clez’s vitriol. Her eyes prickled from being singled out.
“There she goes again,” said Clez. She narrowed her eyes at Mara. “She’s a waste of space, like all those humans in the hold. They’re the reason why we’re scrubbing out the sewers!”
Mara blinked in confusion. “W-what?”
Gymari stepped forward. “Knock it off, Clez. Get back to work.”
“Work?” Clez’s voice rose as she faced Gymari. “Work? This is not the work I am built for! I’m too good for standing ankle deep in shit. If Syrek would get off his ass and turn off the PETL Cubes, we could be rolling in money.” She spun back around to Mara. “And then we would be short a couple dozen of your kind.”
Mara’s hands wrapped around the handle of the broom hard enough to make her fingers ache. Clez snarled at her one last time, and then stormed out of the tank.
“What a wretched creature,” puffed Oyoyoi.
“Get back to work,” ordered Gymari. “Everyone.”
Grumbling, the crew picked up their brooms and set back to scrubbing. All except Mara. She turned to Luall. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” Luall asked.
“My people. They’re being kept alive by those cubes?”
“Well, yeah. They’re PETL Cells. They’re power sources.”
“Why did he take the cubes?”
Luall blinked at Mara. “We were hired to take them. The Ykine are going to pay well.”
“And what about my people?” Mara said.
Luall turned to Gymari for support, but the older woman simply shrugged. Licking her lips, Luall turned back to Mara. “I don’t know. But Syrek isn’t going to just-”
“Syrek,” Mara said, her chin lifting. “He’s in charge of the power cubes?”
“Yes, but-”
“Thanks, Luall. I gotta go.” Mara dropped the broom and marched out of the tank. She ignored Luall’s call and walked to the decontamination room. The floor was slick with foam from Clez passing through. Mara stood patiently while the jets reloaded and sprayed her down. The thick foam coated her suit, sloughing off grime and dirt. In the next room, the foam dried to a crust, which cracked off in decomposable chunks.
Shrugging out of the protective suit, Mara dressed in her overalls, brushed out her hair and braided it, and pulled on her boots. If Syrek was in charge of her friends’ fates, she needed to speak with him. She made her way to the bridge, only to be told by Ancain that Syrek rested in his rooms.
After her last visit to his room, she had found any excuse to leave any room he entered, even the galley. She blanched at the thought of being alone with him, but steeled herself to face the dragon in his den.
Though she couldn’t stop the trembling in her hands, she knocked firmly on his door. She sniffed her hair one last time for whiffs of sewage, and when he bid her enter, she braced herself and turned the handle.
She peered around the door and blinked into the darkness. Even the botanical wall remained unlit. “Hello?”
A figure on the bed stirred. Syrek’s rumbling voice held irritation. “What do you want?”
“Oh! Were you sleeping?”
“No,” he replied. “What do you want?”
“Are you sick?”
Syrek sighed and sat up. “No. Now, what do you want?”
Mara tapped her fingers on the door. “Can I turn on the light?”
With another sigh, Syrek leaned to the side. A panel in front of the habitat wall slid aside with a quite hum. Pale light from the interiors of the cubes washed over the room. Mara tried to avert her eyes when she noticed Syrek wasn’t wearing a shirt. His lower half was wrapped in the sheets.
“What,” Syrek said, in a growl, “do you want?”
She paused. She hadn’t expected to find Syrek in bed, and didn’t want to bother him. But could she wait to come back? Could her friends wait? This is important.
“May I please enter?”
“Suit yourself,” Syrek said. He rubbed a hand across his forehead. A few days’ worth of hair-growth showed along his skull, and his eyes were sunken in. The muscles in his arms flexed as he moved, and Mara couldn’t pull her eyes away.
When he raised an eyebrow, she coughed and averted her gaze. Mara stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She pressed her back to the metal, her heart pounding.
Be strong.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
Syrek snorted. “I’ve been telling you to do so since you opened the door.”
“It’s about my friends. The humans.”
Syrek’s hand stopped and he looked up at her. “What of them?”
“Some of the others…” Her voice trailed off at Syrek’s stare. She wanted to run, but she wasn’t sure in which direction. Out the door or to the bed? She cleared her throat. “Some of the other workers said that the power cubes you stole-”
“Acquired,” Syrek corrected.
“-acquired from the Sykorian ship. They’re powering the cryo-beds.”
Syrek straightened, and his shoulders dropped. He tilted his head, and looked Mara up and down. “They are.”
Mara took a deep breath. “They’re keeping my people alive, right?”
“Correct.” Syrek swung his feet off the bed.
“Rumor has it that you’re selling the cubes.”
Syrek stood, and Mara held her breath while the sheets slid down his hips and back onto the bed. To her relief, he wore pants. To her discomfort, the look in his eye had switched from annoyed to predatory. “Where are you going with this, human?”
A bolt on the door dug into her shoulder, but she didn’t care. She ran her hands over the metal, letting its coolness sink into her body. Now that he stood, he seemed to fill the room.
He’s trying to bully me.
I hate bullies.
Her chin rose. “Mara. My name is Mara.”
“It’s a stupid name.”
“You’re being disrespectful.”
“Do you deserve respect?” His voice was soft.
“Everyone does,” she said. “Everyone has value.”