by Drew Avera
Dad looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. "Why don’t you lead the way," he said, forcing a smile, which I knew was hard for him to do when he was as stressed out as he was. His blue eyes were piercing when he looked at me, but kind nonetheless. I wondered exactly what thoughts they were hiding—fear, relief, something else? Mom put a loving hand on his shoulder and together we walked into the breeze, down an alley where we hoped to find the materials to get us off this planet.
And the sooner the better.
Chapter 6
The scrapyard smelled of grease and dust as we walked through the gated area leading into the place . Dad led the way through narrow paths of junk filled with protruding bits of metal, threatening in their sharp gestures as they surrounded us. The twin suns were partially obscure, but their heat beat upon us. Even with the tall heaps of junk outstretched towards the sky, it was hard to avoid the heat and glare of their light. I lifted my hand to block the light from stinging my eyes when I heard a voice.
"How can I help you?" A slithery voice said from somewhere above us. I looked up, squinting my eyes, to behold a figure, bare chested and scaly. His flesh was pale and sickly looking, but the corded muscle of his body made him look intimidating and strong. I had never seen one of his race before and the sight of him made me feel uncomfortable.
"Yes, I need some scrap to repair my ship. It was damaged during recently during entry," Dad said.
The figure slithered down to the ground and stood just an inch or two shorter than my father. “My name is Gordus, and I would love to have your business. Tell me, what class is your ship?" He asked his question while extending his arm out to Dad in greeting. I could tell the man’s close proximity was off-putting to my father, but Gordus did not seem to notice or care.
Dad looked puzzled by the question, looking as if he wanted to determine whether or not it was all right to answer, but he finally said, "it's an old Consulate Scout," he answered. "It’s a CS-13 I purchased it from a military collector after I received my pilot's license."
Gordus looked at my father with a sneer. "Is that right? And I suppose the ring on the woman's finger means nothing?" The tone of the man's voice made a sound like he was accusing my father of something, but what that was I had no idea.
Mom put her hands behind her back and took a step back. "Look, do you have scrap that I can purchase for my ship or not?" Dad asked, the irritable tone of his voice clearly evident.
A smiled curled up on the man's lips. "You're on the run, are you? The four of you cramped into an old Scout, that must be a rough life indeed. Well, I doubt your kind would fetch a prize worthy of my time for turning you in. Besides, taxes being as they are, I can use the business more than the few coins you might fetch," he said as if he was sugaring my father up for something. "If you will, please follow me."
Dad looked back at us with a nervous expression on his face. How the scrapyard owner knew so much about us was uncanny. Yet we followed him to the small pile of heap he wanted to show us. Most of it was charred and crumbled, barely salvageable. "This? It's all junk," Dad said with an exasperated sigh. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at the man. I could see the vein in his forehead throbbing with each beat of his heart and I was afraid that he was about to hit the man; or worse, draw his gun on him.
"Oh? No, you don't think I'm that reckless do you, to leave my best stuff open to the elements?" The man reached into the pile and pulled back a chain. Tightened, corded muscles lifted the broken heap into the air, assisted by a series of pulleys and gears. Below the heap was a hollowed-out storage area with several pristine spacecrafts and their parts stored for preservation. "You can never be too careful on this planet," he said, the smile on his face growing wide. “You can't trust anyone here."
Chapter 7
After a quick meal, we left the city gates. Dad's pack was weighing heavily on his shoulders as he carried the scrap needed to repair our ship. The steel plates necessary to weld into place to maintain the integrity of our hull threatened to tear his pack from the sharp corners and edges of the material. T'tireva and I carried smaller packs with various lengths of fuel lines. I’m happy I don’t have to drag along the heavy plates that Dad is carrying, I thought. Even with the twin suns’ descent along the horizon, there was still pale light illuminating the desolate expanse of hardened sandstone along our path. My legs ached, and I was sure the same was true for the others. Each step sent sharp twinges of pain through my foot and up my leg, and I knew it was because I was not used to walking this much. Several months in space, on a ship, did not allow for proper exercise, and this was taking its toll on me.
T'tireva walked at a slower gait, five steps behind me, her shoulders slumped and her eyes towards the ground. I felt half-compelled to strike up a conversation with her, but my previous efforts were always rewarded with her famous silent treatment. Instead, I hastened my steps and tried to listen in on my parents’ conversation, hoping that they would not notice.
"So, how long do you think it will take to make all the necessary repairs?" Mom asked. Her arms strained to take the pack from Dad to help remove some of the burden. The look of relief on his face when she did so was a surprise.
He stretched and arched his back when he answered. "The fuel lines will be the simple part," he said "the structural damage may take some time. I don’t want to take off and crash back to the ground because of binding flight control surfaces or anything of that magnitude, all because my welding skills are a bit rusty," he chuckled but I did not get the joke.
Mom made a clicking sound with her tongue. It was a nervous tic she had. "So, will we be spending the night on this world?"
Begrudgingly he answered, "Yeah, it's beginning to look that way."
She shrugged the heavy pack on her shoulders and repositioned the bag. "So, will we spend the night on the ship or risk coming into the city?"
Dad turned to look back at where we were coming from. Few lights filled the windows of the dark buildings behind us. "I saw that there were a few rooms available. I know that we could all use a hot shower," he said with a coy smile. That’s for sure, I thought,, The shower situation after weeks in space were not ideal.
Mom returned with a grin and a partially stifled a laugh. "What, are our accommodations not good enough for you, sir?"
Dad smiled, the simple gesture seeming to remove the weight of the world from his shoulders, it was the version of Dad that I remembered. "Here, let me take that from you," he said, taking the pack from mom and putting it back on his shoulders. "This is not the kind of work for a beautiful queen such as yourself.”
"Shut up," she said, "don't even start on that."
"Why? Because you don't like it when I'm right?"
I watched as my mother looked at my father, her eyes revealing just as much as the smile on her face. This was a rare moment for them and I was enjoying watching it play out. They both looked happy despite our circumstances, and to me, it was a very beautiful thing.
Chapter 8
Just as my father said, the fuel lines were a quick and easy repair. It was the ripped fuselage that posed the largest burden for him. Mom blushed at the language such aggravation produced from his lips, and made a gesture to try and cup T'tireva's ears so she could not hear it. I merely smirked at the indecent talk and imagined how much trouble I would be if I dared to intimidate him. The answer was a lot.
"How much longer will it be, Dad?" T'tireva asked. Her tunic was draped over her head to block out the light of the twin suns. Sleep had not come easily, staying on our powered-down ship. With the metallic luster of its skin baking under the harsh light, and without a breeze to cool it off, it made for a scorching internal temperature for the crew living space.
"Not too much longer… I hope,” he replied. Sweat poured from his brow, momentarily pooling in the deep ridges between his eyes. He wiped himself dry every so often, but it was a futile effort, as it quickly re-accumulated. I had never been in an environment as inhospitable a
s this one, and despite the fact I was not working alongside him, I was just as sweaty.
"It's getting late. Maybe we should stay the night in the city," Mom suggested as she collected scraps of damaged fuselage as Dad cut them away. "I'll doubt we can take another night like last night,"
"I know. I wanted us to stay in the city last night, remember?" He asked. "Now I kind of wish I and had insisted upon it."
Mom laughed lightly. "That was before you decided to go twenty rounds with this heap of what you want to call a ship," she joked. She stood in a sliver of shade from the curved wing of the ship. Like Dad, she was drowning in sweat. But she did not complain about it.
"Hey!" He shouted between grunts as he turned a heavy wrench. "My baby is not a heap. She is a prime piece of machinery once belonging to the ever so powerful Consulate Navy," he jeered, "the most amazing, astute, sincere Navy the System has ever known." The singsong irreverence of his candor must be a glimpse at the jokester he had been in his youth, I thought. I watched my mother's eyes light up while T'tireva giggled behind me. I cherished these lighthearted exchanges. I just wished that they were not so few and far between.
One day, I thought, we will be someplace where the Consulate Navy will never find us and we will find our happiness again.
Chapter 9
The late morning light woke me from my slumber. It was deathly quiet, save for the gentle breathing of my sister across the room. I wondered why our parents let us sleep in like this as I rose out of bed. My stirring woke T'tireva, even though I tried to be as quiet as possible.
"What time is it?" she asked. Her speech was groggy and her words fell flat as she stretched her muscles.
I looked outside, noticing how high the twin suns were in the sky, "it looks to be about midday,” I replied.
Her feet touched the floor in small, staccato steps as she raced for the door.
"What's the matter with you?" I asked, annoyed by the fact she would cause such a stir.
"We were supposed to go back to the ship early this morning," she called out from the common room. She was frantically moving things around as she spoke.
"They probably just left us here to sleep while they finished the rest of the repairs," I said, stepping into the room where she was.
"Something's not right, Auden" she said. Her voice sounded sour. "They wouldn’t just leave us here without saying anything."
I looked around the room and lifted my hands in frustration, "Fine. Let's go to the ship so you can see that that's where they are," I suggested.
She nodded her head in agreement and walked towards the door, flinging her bag over her shoulder. I grabbed mine and followed her out the door.
It was a long hike to where our ship had landed, and when we arrived we found nothing more than some of the leftover scrap Dad used for the repair job the day before. Both of us canvassed the area nervously, squinting against the harsh light for a sign of our parents or our ship. I felt dread as I stood in the exact same spot we had been the day before, but they were gone. "Maybe Mom and Dad took the ship out for a test flight to make sure everything was functioning correctly," I suggested, putting hope into my tone just as much for her sake as for me.
T'tireva looked at me, holding back tears. "Or maybe they left us behind."
Her words were brutal and felt like daggers digging into my heart. She said the thing I was too afraid to say. But if they left us behind, what was serious enough to be a reason why? As I stood there feeling hopeless, I was afraid that I would learn the answer and hate them for it.
Chapter 10
I had no particular reason why I led us back to the scrapyard. I knew there was no chance of finding my parents there, yet after several failed attempts at finding lodging because we were minors and not citizens, I felt the compulsion to go anyway. T'tireva silently followed, without any form of protest nor conversation. I knew she was in shock, just as I was, but now was not the time for panic. We needed to think logically if we were ever going to find Mom and Dad.
Dad always said, "the key to survival was keeping a level head. Most times it was the rash decisions made under stress that proved the most fatal." With that in mind, I calmed my breathing and put on my adult face. For now, I had to be the head of the family and take care of T'tireva.
"How can I help you?" Gordus asked. He lay atop a pile of recently purchased heap, baking under the twin suns’ harsh light. His pale skin was reflective without the visors we snagged from the ship the day before, and T'tireva and I lowered them over our eyes so we could keep looking at him.
I took a deep breath before responding, "We have nowhere to turn and are in need of income. Can you help us?"
Gordus snapped his fingers behind his back, the staccato report muffled, but still audible. "I am in the business of making coin, not giving it out," he said, lying back down to bake.
"And how do you make your coin?" T'tireva asked, "is your supply meeting the demand?"
Those words seem to spark his interest. "I have more than enough heap, silly girl!"
I looked around and pointed out the obvious, "you have basic metals, but none of the precious kind used in more lucrative endeavors," I said, emphasizing the word "lucrative" as it fell from my lips.
A small chuckle stirred from his chest. "And how might you provide me those precious metals, girl?"
He seems to not know what lay in the outskirts of his own city, I thought. Luckily for us, we saw what was out there. "Do you not know of the debris field full of Consulate drones? They're all half buried, but they are very much there for the taking," I answered.
Gordus slid down from the heap and looked me in the eye. He moved quicker than his usual speaking manner let on, as if his speed was a secret he had not intended to reveal. "Consulate drones?" He asked.
"Indeed," I answered.
With a sneer, he nodded his head. "You know, I've always wanted to have employees."
Chapter 11
"And do you swear to do whatever is required to fulfil your obligation?" Gordus asked.
"I promise to do whatever is required," I said solemnly. We faced real danger on this alien world without having a means to support ourselves. We were learning that the Naxelans were not known for their generosity as a people, especially to refugees, but it seemed that Gordus was willing to at least take a chance with us. For that, I was thankful.
"Very well, do you see the sled over there?" Gordus asked, pointing beyond a small heap of metal resting on a scale.
"Yes, I do," I replied. "What about it?"
Gordus began walking towards it. "You and your sister can use this to collect scrap and bring it back to me. I will weigh it, and you will receive coin based on the weight." Gordus reached down and grabbed a rusty chain before pulling the sled away from the wall. The skids on the bottom of the sled screeched against the sandstone ground in a painful wail. Once he was finished pulling it away, he dropped the chain noisily to the ground.
"Do you not have a tool more conducive to the task at hand?" I asked. I realized a moment later how rude my line of questioning sounded, especially from a child asking for assistance. But we really would benefit from tools easier to use for the job he wanted us to do.
Gordus sighed. "We have no fossil fuels to run machinery on this world. This the best I can do for you," he said. His eyes looked at us with a touch of gentle light behind them. His abrasiveness must not be intentional, I thought, just a side effect a grown up on such an inhospitable world.
I looked at T'tireva and she nodded slightly. Looking back to Gordus I responded, "We accept your job offer."
He smiled. "Good, now how about you two go get me some of those precious metals you were talking about, and maybe I can find you some coin for a place to spend the night."
T'tireva looked at me with a look of dread on her face. I felt it to, but we had no choice. Until Mom and Dad returned, we would have to make our own way and this seemed to be the only way we can do it.
"You take that side,"
I said, pointing towards the chain attached to the left side of the sled. I reached down and grabbed the rusted chain of my side. Together, T'tireva and I left the scrapyard and went to collect our heap.
PART TWO
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
CHAPTER 1
The heat of the desert air beat against my face as T'tireva and I dragged our bounty back to the city. Scrap metal from drones littered the sandy landscape for hundreds of miles around us, obscuring our view of the natural horizon. The precious metals used in the circuitry of those drones fetched us enough coin to survive off of, but it was not an extravagant lifestyle, just enough for two kids abandoned on a foreign planet to make a life for ourselves. That was the crux of our situation: being abandoned and left to our own devices was not a good place to be on a planet as dangerous as Naxela.
"Ouch! I popped another blister," T'tireva hissed through clenched teeth. A clear liquid oozed from the now-open blister and dripped down her dark skin. I had two just like it on my own hands. It was one of the hazards of dragging a sled with rusty chains, weighed down with more than one-hundred pounds of junk. There were more efficient means to get the job done, but we could not afford any of them. So, here we were, doing things the hard way because it was the only way for us to survive. I found it hard to remember a time where things were easy, to be perfectly honest. I wondered if I would ever know what easy felt like, or if the rest my life was going to be this same type of hardship.