by Delia Roan
I’m nothing like my father. This is my home. Not a weapon.
First, though, he needed the Ykine to agree to his terms. For several anxious moments, Syrek waited. Aware of Ukali’s scrutiny, he leaned back his his chair, keeping his body open and relaxed. The biggest rule of bargaining was never walk to the table desperate.
And if you are desperate, don’t let the other guy see it.
Ukali’s mandibles worked for a moment, and finally he turned back to Syrek. “You have a deal. We will take the cells, plus the… sleepers.”
His stomach churned, but Syrek nodded as if Ukali’s words were the only possible outcome of the call. “Of course. I’ll have them ready for you upon your arrival.”
On screen, Ukali brought his segmented legs in front of his face and steepled them under his chin. “You will have to work quickly, Syrek.”
“I always work quickly, Dignitary Ukali.”
“A pleasure to hear that,” Ukali said, “as currently we are approaching the docks on Haven’s rear.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
MARA
Despite the billions of miles Mara had traveled, despite the months of living amongst aliens, despite the strange food and clothing, Mara came to one conclusion: grief was grief.
The funeral for Cook was no different than any she had attended on Earth. The details varied, but not the emotions. There was the overblown weeping from people who hadn’t shared two words with Cook. A clueless child wandered between the ranks, skipping and dancing. Someone cracked a joke, and bittersweet laughter rang out. A tall alien in a green dress kept pressing food on everyone.
She spotted Luall and Gymari in the procession behind her, and when she met Gymari’s eye, the matron hurried forward to walk beside her. “Mara. I am sorry for your loss.”
Mara gave a wan smile. “Thank you, Gymari, but I barely knew the man.”
“Maybe, but it is not always about knowing someone. It is about what they can teach us.” Gymari waddled in silence for a moment. “What did Cook teach you?”
It was an odd question, and Mara’s first instinct was to mention horticulture. No, Cook deserved better than that. Gymari deserved a more honest answer to her innocent question.
What have I learned?
She hadn’t known Cook for long, but it was part of her people-pleaser persona for her to crave the old alien’s approval. Cook welcomed her into his fold without a second thought, not worrying about what she could provide. He was simply grateful to have extra hands in his domain, and when she proved to be a hard worker, he had been even more pleased.
Mara swept the back of her hand over her eyes. Everyone always seemed to expect greatness from her, from her father down to Dannica. It was nice just being appreciated for being… there. It made her feel like maybe there was truth to the words she had spoken to Syrek about everyone having value.
“He taught me,” Mara said slowly, “that I should not have run from the janitorial crew.”
“Mmm,” replied Gymari.
“I apologize, Gymari. I should not have left. I should have stayed and fixed the mess I made.”
“Naturally,” Gymari replied.
“I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” Gymari reached out her hand and patted Mara’s back. “You can come back to work after lunch today.”
“W-what about Clez?”
“Don’t worry about her. She’s been cut from the crew. Last I heard, she was trying to leverage a way off ship.”
“Thank you, Gymari.”
“We missed you, you know. With you gone, we had to go back to hearing the same old stories from Oyoyoi.” Gymari returned to her position in the line, and when Mara glanced back, she saw Luall grin and wave. She waved back, a warm glow filling her chest.
The procession wound its way to a familiar area. Mara tilted her head when they came to a swaying stop in front of waste management.
“What’s going on?” she whispered to the alien beside her. “Why are we here?”
“Cook was a gardener,” came the reply. “He would want to return to his plants.”
“Oh,” said Mara. She processed the implication for a second, then leaned forward again. “Is that… common?”
“Hush,” said the alien. “They’re starting the remembrance.”
She was still pondering how many aliens might have been in the food she consumed while on Haven, when Luall pushed in next to her.
“Hi!”
“Shhhh,” hissed the alien. “I am trying to hear!”
At the front of the crowd, Bene Laupe stood, his long hands wrapped around him. “When I was a child, Cook took me under his wing and taught me all that I know.”
“What’s happening?” murmured Mara into Luall’s ear.
“It’s tradition,” Luall replied, ignoring the dirty look the alien in front of them shot back. “We gather to speak positively about the deceased.”
After Bene Laupe, a few others stepped up and spoke. It was obvious Cook was deeply loved by the gardening crew. The ceremony concluded when the pallbearers wrapped Cook back up in the burlap hammock and carried him away as the crowd dispersed.
Mara tilted her head. “That’s it?”
“The sanitation department is closed, dummy,” Luall replied. “Which means so is the composting. Come on, let’s go do something fun before the afternoon shift starts.”
Mara followed. “What will they do with… the body?”
“They’ll freeze it for now.”
“Oh. I just thought it would be like in the movies, where they launch the body out into space to float forever.”
Luall frowned. “That’s wasteful. Cook’s body can do a lot more good here than out there.” She waved her hand in what Mara assumed was the direction of the outside of the ship.
“You know, I’ve been here for weeks now, and I don’t think I’ve seen the stars outside Haven.”
“No!” Luall’s pretty eyes widened. “Let’s fix that!”
The observation deck turned out to be a giant viewport. Mara gasped. Brilliant points of light sparkled as far as her eyes could see. If she leaned to the side, she could see Haven on either side of the window.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a red dot to the side.
“Low mass red dwarf,” replied Luall.
“Does it have a name?”
“Maybe.” Luall shrugged. “Out here there aren’t many named bodies.”
“Out here?”
“We’re operating outside of civilized systems. Fewer rules.”
“Ah. So how do you know where you are out here?”
“Usually they have numbers assigned to them if they are of navigational value. When I was a pilot, I got the chance to name a planetary nebula. I went with Luall-Hux. Hux was my boyfriend’s name at the time. Dumb mistake. He turned out to eat the lint from under his toenails. Hey, are you listening?”
Mara extended a shaking finger to the corner of the view. “What is that?”
Luall peered down and whistled when she spotted the massive turreted vessel clinging to Haven’s side. “That,” she said, her voice grim, “is an Ykine warship. How in the burning skies did it get here so fast?”
“Warship?” Mara frowned. “Are we in danger?”
“No,” Luall said, her voice uncertain. “They’re probably here to pick up their haul.”
“The cells?”
“Yeah. Except,” Luall continued, “I thought we were dropping off the cargo. Only reason they might come here themselves is if…” Her voice trailed off. When she met Mara’s gaze, her eyes were wide. “If they were coming for all of the PETL Cells.”
Mara’s scalp prickled. Her stomach flip-flopped. “I-I have to go.”
She took off at a run, her heart beating in rhythm to her steps. Syrek must have come up with a plan. A plan that ensured her people would be safe. Otherwise, how could he offer up all the cells to the Ykine?
She found Syrek in the docking bay. He stood alone in the Sykorian ship, staring at the rows of cryo-sleepers. Mara stepped closer, and when he heard her steps on metal, he turned.
It took fewer than a dozen steps for Mara to cross the floor and throw herself into his arms. She buried her face into his neck, savoring the smell of him. “Thank you, Syrek.”
To her surprise, he remained unresponsive under her embrace. “Mara.” Her name rumbled deep in his chest.
She pulled away far enough to study his face. Her heart sank. “What’s wrong? Is it the sleepers?”
He untangled himself from her arms and stepped back, distancing him from herself. He turned to face the cryo-beds and busied himself with checking the cables. The lights pulsed, throwing his face into harsh shadows. “Mara, this is a bad time.”
“Syrek?” She moved closer. “I wanted to-”
“I am busy,” he said. “Some other time, okay, Mara?”
The tone in his voice jolted her down to her childhood, when she would beg for her father to open his office door so she could see him. He would open the door only after she pounded for twenty minutes, and then he would call her the Hindi word for daughter, and dismiss her. “Beti, I am busy. I don’t have time right now.”
Mara was so over being treated like a child.
She grabbed Syrek’s elbow and tried to spin him around. It was like trying to move a statue. She settled for pushing her way between him and the cryo-bed. “I think you should make time, Syrek.”
His stare made her feel like he studied a stranger, but she persisted. “Listen. I just saw the Ykine ship docking. The Ykine are here. And the only reason they are here are for those cells. Right?”
He didn’t deny it.
She pressed on, even though her voice rose in pitch. “So what’s going to happen to my people, Syrek? Huh? Tell me!”
“Mara, what do you want me to tell you? Yes, the Ykine are here. Yes, they are going to take the goods they have paid for. What more do you want to hear?”
“Tell me my people will be safe.” Syrek averted his eyes, and she stepped back into his field of vision. “Tell me you’re going to keep your promise, Syrek.”
He didn’t have to speak. She saw the truth in his face.
“No, you’re not-” Realization dawned, and with it came horror. Mara’s hand covered her mouth. “You’re selling them. To the Ykine. Why? How could you do- How could you?”
Betrayal shot through her heart, and she staggered back. She waved her hand at the banks of sleeping humans. “Th-these are people, Syrek. People. My people. That woman, right there? That’s Dannica. She held my hair while I puked after drinking too many fireballs. Sh-she makes a mean chicken alfredo, but always refuses to wash the dishes she uses.”
She waited for him to reply, but he said nothing, his face a blank slate.
“She’s my friend, Syrek. Please, tell me you aren’t going to break your promise.”
“I will not break my promise. I promised that while they were in my care, no harm would befall them.” He tightened his jaw. “While they were in my care. Those were my words.”
“Syrek, please…”
Syrek kept his head up but did not meet her eyes. “I am sorry.”
Mara sniffed. Her whole face burned. “You’re sorry? That’s supposed to make all this better?” She formed a fist and raised it, to smack him in the chest, but she dropped her hand. Instead she walked away.
When she reached the door, she turned back to face him with a tear-streaked face. “You made me a promise, Syrek.”
He nodded. “I did.”
There seemed nothing further to add, so Mara staggered out of the Sykorian ship and headed down the ramp. She stood in the docking bay, watching the bustle of activity around the ship. Eventually, Syrek strode out and, at his sign, a pilot took the controls. Mara wrapped her arms around herself while she watched the ship leave the dock.
When Syrek strode past her, she cleared her throat. “Where is the ship going?”
“To the far side of Haven. The Ykine will collect their… property there.” He opened his mouth to add something further, but carried on walking.
She watched his powerful back as he strode away, then groaned as another figure ambled toward her.
Great, just great.
Clez stopped in front of her, and took a deep sniff. “Hmm, now that they’re getting rid of the humans, the air is already clearing up in here.”
“Leave me alone, Clez.”
Clez’s smile was as narrow as the blade dangling between her fingers. “I don’t have to. You’re already alone.” She strutted away, tossing her knife from hand to hand.
Mara sniffed, and blotted at her eyes. She couldn’t dwell on Clez’s cruelty. Or on Syrek’s broken promise. There was work to be done, and there was nobody else to do it.
The far side of Haven. Mara tapped her finger against her lip. As a worker bustled past her, she called out. “Hey, do you know which dock the Ykine are using?”
“Sure,” the worker replied. “Hangar 1576. Only one cold enough for the Ykine right now.”
Mara smiled her sweetest smile. “Know a way to get there?”
Armed with directions, Mara set off for Hangar 1576. If Syrek wasn’t going to do anything about her friends, then she would have to handle matters herself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SYREK
The number of credits flashing on his account balance made Syrek’s pulse race, but the zeroes were not enough to fill the void beneath his sternum. His gaze moved from the banking screen back to the screen beside it, where a camera picked up the activity in Hangar 1576. The Sykorian ship sat in the empty dock, waiting for the Ykine to arrive and collect their new belongings.
Behind him, the rest of the bridge crew shuffled their feet. The Ykine warship made them nervous, especially with the heavy artillery of Haven down. Not to mention how quickly it had arrived. Syrek’s eyes flicked back to the banking screen, and he puffed out his breath when the message flashed on screen: funds cleared.
The crew felt the change in his posture, but they remained silent, their attention riveted to the monitors. On screen, the Ykine clearly received the same message. A flurry of movement appeared as Ykine workers streamed through the airlock. The insect-like creatures hurried to the Sykorian ship, and Syrek knew they searched for any signs of tampering or sabotage.
He brought his knuckle to his mouth, his eyes moving as he tried to follow the movement of each worker. With a press of a button, the second monitor switched to an interior shot of the ship. The Ykine scurried over the cryo-beds, peering inside to study each sleeper.
They won’t find anything, Syrek thought. There was nothing to find.
The Ykine must have been satisfied with the levels of security on the ship, because the airlock bustled with movement again. This time, four burly soldiers entered, followed by the frail form of the Ykine liaison. In real life, Dignitary Ukali struggled under the weight of his robes, and he wobbled as he meandered his way to the Sykorian ship.
“Syrek. I must speak with you.”
“One moment, Ancain.” Syrek followed Ukali’s progress across the bay.
“Syrek, it cannot wait.”
Ancain’s voice held enough heat for Syrek to turn his focus from the monitor. He raised an eyebrow at Ancain. “What is wrong, Ancain?”
Ancain leaned closer, pitching his voice low, but they were both aware of the many ears listening behind them. “This.” He gestured to the screen. “This cannot happen.”
With a wave of dismissal, Syrek returned to the screen. “It is already done.”
“No,” Ancain seized Syrek by the shoulder, pulling him back into the conversation. “Syrek, where is your Ennoi sense of honor? This is not right!”
“If you want an Ennoi
with honor, there are a couple million of them about two systems over. I am sure if you inform them of the situation, they will bend space and time to do the right thing. The honorable thing.”
“This is wrong! Syrek, this is cruel. You cannot let this happen.”
Through narrowed eyes, Syrek studied Ancain. “I can, and I will, do as I please, Ancain. Remove your hand.”
“Void take you, Syrek!” Ancain dropped his hand. “We are not slavers! We never have been.”
That provoked an empty laugh from Syrek. “What are you talking about, Ancain? You know Haven has a long, healthy history of slave trading.”
“Those days are gone. Haven is your ship now.”
The urge to end the conversation outweighed any conversational niceties. “You are correct. Haven is my ship. She is mine. My will upon this ship is law.”
“What? That’s not-”
“And what I will, is for you to stop harping on me. This conversation is done, Ancain.”
Ancain snorted in frustration. “Fine, Syrek. But tread lightly. You are barging into unknown territory and that carries consequences.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No,” Ancain replied. “A warning.”
His second-in-command, and the closest thing to a friend he had, stormed away, leaving Syrek to ponder the weight of Ancain’s words as he watched the monitors.
He frowned. Controlled by the hive brain, the Ykine all raised their heads to peer in the same direction, studying something off screen. Syrek leaned closer. Had they heard a noise? The soldiers moved between Ukali and the unknown.
A figure swaggered onto the screen. Syrek recognized Clez immediately. Nobody else on Haven strutted with the same arrogance. Except this time, she hauled something along beside her. In her right hand, she held…
No.
Syrek’s blood froze in his veins.
Mara.
Mara seemed to be dragging her heels as Clez led her to the Ykine, but the knife at her throat made her comply. Syrek’s fingers tightened on the corner of the monitor.
No, no, no.
“What is she doing?” Ancain had returned to his side, and he stared at the monitor. “She is insane.”