by Chris Fox
small group of eight followed her into the inn. A scraggly faced, grey haired man, who had been watching the commotion in the street from the inn’s window, greeted Najima as her boisterous rabble entered.
"Hello, good saar! I am Najima Dezetoiles, and I demand the finest of your fine pizzas, and a great pint of beer!"
The innkeeper stared back at Najima blankly. "You look like you're twelve, child."
"I'll have you know that I'm 17 proud years, celestial!"
"Right, that's nice. The drinking age is 18, darlin', and I don't take kindly to foolishness in my inn."
Unfazed, in a purposefully repetitive tone, Najima replied, "I demand the finest of your fine pizzas, and something tasty like... I dunno, tea!" Her chorus of children laughed and chanted tea in affirmation. The innkeeper merely shook his head and made his way back to the kitchen as the children continued to barrage Najima with questions at their claimed table. One of the boys, easily the youngest, raised his hand desperate for attention and tugged Najima's black jacket for added emphasis.
"What's up?" Najima asked with a smile.
"Why are you dressed so funny?" he asked, pointing out her black pants, sleek white blouse, and thick black jacket of synthetic leather.
"It's quite cold where I come from, my love."
"Where are you from?" he replied.
"Space," Najima returned with a wink, the other children oooh and ahhh’ing, easily impressed.
"No, I meant FROM where? What planet?"
"Where someone is from isn't very interesting. Where someone is going, now that's an adventure."
"Where are you going?" the wide eye child asked. Najima ruffled his hair.
"I'll tell you when I get there."
Soon thereafter, the innkeeper returned with a fresh, wonderful pizza, and the celebratory ritual of deliciousness commenced. Najima, not having had a proper meal in days, took in every taste slowly, so much so that she was almost surprised when the innkeeper returned so suddenly, asking for her pay for her meal.
"That will be a hundred even, matam."
"Oh yes, of course!" She reached into her jacket’s inner pocket and pulled out her Imperial PayCard, a slim card made of green, translucent crystal, bearing the insignia of the Empire.
"I'm sorry, darlin', but we don't accept Paisaz."
"Don't accept Paisaz?" Najima exclaimed as the man allowed the youngsters with Najima, all having finished their meals, pay. They made their way back to their friends outside to tell them all about their moments with the foreigner. Najima was left alone at the table. "How do you not accept Paisaz? Don't tell me Sahlam II has started using whatever it is the Commonwealth uses."
"Takas, sweetheart," the innkeeper replied politely and patiently, "And 'fraid so. We'll take multi-galactic PayCards, and Commonwealth Takas. But no Imperial Paisaz."
The man returned Najima's card, and she quickly dropped it in her pocked. "But you all are so close to the Quadrant border."
"Yes, well, if you had noticed, you're on the Commonwealth side of the border. You have a multi-galactic card, darlin'?"
Najima didn't reply. This was a problem, because she meant to reply. However, her silence revealed her truth.
"Ya don't have a proper card, do you?"
"...Yes. I mean," Najima tempered herself, quickly rising from her table and walking confidently toward the door, speaking as she moved. "Course I do! Left it on my raft, I'll be right back." She sped her stride as politely as she could manage. As soon as she crossed the threshold of the door, she could bolt. Better to travel without supplies than get in trouble with an innkeeper on Sahlam II.
But she couldn't make it. Just as the automatic door slid aside, the innkeeper snagged her thick black hair, and she let out a yelp of pain. "You little thief!"the innkeeper cried.
"How is it a thievery to eat a pizza?!"
"You were gonna run off on me. Ya know, Najima Dezetoiles, I'm sure these new friends of yours, our kids, would love to see how suave you look locked up in a jail cell."
"Honestly, saar, I'd rather enjoy your beautiful town a little more. It'd be nice if you let me go." Najima struggled, only to feel her head yanked back, her head arched back so she was forced to look at the innkeeper.
"I'll let you go when your hands are bound, matam."
And then a gunshot. It was indistinguishably a slug from a large rifle, the blast echoing down the straight, stone streets of the town. The two stared at each other for a moment longer before another gunshot rang out. The man let Najima go, and the two rushed out into the street. Three more shots - now from two guns – fired off before they trained their eyes in the direction of the violent sound, and another three as Najima glanced back to the innkeeper. Her gaze was one of severity, of purpose, and somehow the innkeeper understood and nodded. With the nod, the gunshots wailing, Najima sprinted down the street along with many other anxious citizens.
Sliding on the slick stone street as she rounded the corner, she saw the action 50 meters away, in the tall grasses beyond the town’s edge. A huge black creature’s figure hunched and writhed in the grasses; a boy running away toward Najima, stumbling, in retreat toward the town. The riflemen were on the top of the building out of Najima's view, still firing. The creature rose and began charging through the grass toward the boys until it pounced and knocked them to the ground. The creature was mauling the boy alive.
Without a second's hesitation, Najima raced forward and removed the silver rod from her jacket pocket, splitting it into two. With a click of a small button upon them, blades of magenta-coloured plasma extended from each end, Najima's plasma daggers. Najima launched one of her blades through the grass toward the creature, and the superheated blade seared through the tall grasses until it struck its target with a burning hiss. The large canine rose on two legs in a brutal scream. Its exposure allowed the riflemen to strike it twice in the chest.
The beast had landed on all fours once more as Najima had followed the trail of scorched grass, closing the distance. With a decisive spin of her body, dagger outstretched, Najima sliced the beast from its shoulder to the edge of its snout. As the creature looked up to its slayer, Najima raised her dagger, and sank the heated beam into the creature’s throat. It burnt the creatures skin straight through, and despite the monster’s futile attempts to bite, is succumbed to pain, and slumped into death.
Najima grabbed her second dagger from the ground, disengaged the blade in her hand, and reconnected them into one whole piece before replacing the blade to her pocket. She was to the body of the boy before the crowd reached her. She recognized the boy as one of the children who didn't join her at the inn. He had a terrible gash to his back, and was bleeding profusely from the mauling.
As the others hurried rush with screaming and crying, Najima helped one of the men lift the boy up; once he is securely held, he was rushed back to town.
∞∞∞
Najima was still dripping with water as she left the shower of the guest bedroom in the mayoral building when a knock came to the clouded glass door. "Matam Najima?" called the timid voice of the mayor, who Najima was acquainted with earlier.
"Yes, saar?" she responded, toweling herself before the mirror of the tiled washroom.
"I'm sorry, I did not know if you were still busy. Please see me when you are through," the mayor replied, and Najima watched his silhouette move away from the door. She looked at herself in the large mirror, watching her dark complexion and pressing hard upon her hair with the towel. She was very relaxed to have a hot shower, a luxury rarely afforded to her in her travels. She was presented with a magnificent dinner by the townspeople; the innkeeper was in attendance, and forgave her indiscretions. However, all the hospitality could not remove the thought of the beast she had slain from her mind. She finished tending to her body, dressed, and left her room for the night within the mayoral building to meet the mayor in his office.
Although it was only spartan at best in comparison to many city centres Najima had seen in her travels
, the office was large with sparsely decorated shelves and tables lining the walls. Outlying territories in the Quadrants, especially on the border of the Empire and the Commonwealth - regions which had once been focal points of the war seventeen years ago - were still in a mode of recovery. Not every town, especially small towns like this, were afforded sleek and modern government buildings. The personal touches of traditional tapestries and rugs along the walls and the personal photographs of the mayor and his family gave the room a homey feel.
The mayor greeted Najima as she entered, and she sat in the large synthetic-leather chair that practically swallowed her small figure. "How are you feeling, Matam Najima?"
"Very refreshed. Your hospitality has been well welcomed," she thanked.
"I can imagine. You said you were essentially a traveler by trade. A difficult choice in lifestyle, especially for one young as you."
"Age is just a number to me," Najima replied with a grin. "I don't put much stock in it."
"I see. Your maturity is most certainly shown in your keen way of speaking."
The mayor was prepared to continue when Najima interrupted. "The monster."
"Excuse me?"
"The monster. You wish to speak to me about it, do you not?" The mayor nodded, his previously jovial manner fading. He fiddled with a picture frame on his desk. "I'm sorry,” Najima continued. “It's just been quite a long day, and I've never been one for pleasantries. They waste time when