by Cheree Alsop
Four mercenaries huddled in a grove of trees. Bullets hit the ground at Liora’s feet. She leaped a bush and spun. Her knife bit into the necks of two women armed with pulse machine guns and machetes. Liora ended the spindly Banthan on her left with a blade through the heart, grabbed the gun in his twitching hand, and pulled the trigger. The Salamandon on her right slumped to the ground. The felis appeared like a ghost and verified that the salvagers were dead.
The forest fell silent. A few moans and a cry of pain reached Liora ears, but the sounds of gunfire had vanished.
Sveth’s voice tore Liora from her rage-induced haze. “No wonder you told her not to fight at the bar.”
“Seriously,” Granson said with awe in his deep voice. “That girl could kill us all.”
Liora looked back at the four men who stood peering through the trees. The two who had spoken took a step back. Fear showed in their gazes. Liora couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. Adrenaline still pounded through her veins. She knew the slain bodies around her were only a sliver of the number she had killed that day. Her hands itched with the need to keep doing what she had been raised to do. If she killed, she didn’t have to stop and think about the lives she had taken. Stopping and the flood of regret that followed was the hardest. She wasn’t ready to face it.
“Lieutenant Argyle, run a sweep from Echo to the Coalition and merc ships. We need to erase all signs of the enemy in order to keep Verdan from becoming a Coalition target,” Devren instructed.
“Yes, Captain,” Argyle replied.
“Tariq, have the wounded brought to the church house for treatment. I don’t think the minister will mind if we turn it into a hospital until everyone has a chance to receive care.”
“Jamste’s the minister now,” Tariq said. He kept his eyes on Liora.
She hadn’t moved since killing the last four officers. She opened and closed her hand around the hilt of the knife. It kept her grounded, stable, or at least what she told herself was stable with lifeless eyes and blood-covered leaves burning images into her mind. The cat stood beside her, as silent as she, its fur unmarred by the battle, and its tufted ears twitching back and forth.
“Jamste?” Devren repeated. “No kidding? Let him know my mother will join us as soon as—”
“I’m on my way,” Mrs. Metis called through the trees. “Kiari has my med kit. We’ll meet you there.”
Devren nodded. “Hyrin, we need a bead on whoever tracked the Kratos. The only way we can keep the Omne Occasus safe is if we can keep it hidden.”
“Did you bring it here?” Tariq’s voice revealed his trepidation at the thought.
Devren shook his head. “Of course not. It’s hidden with the SS Atlas.”
Tariq stared at him. “Where on earth did you hide a Diamond Albatross? And why aren’t you with the Omne Occasus?”
Devren glanced at Sveth and Granson. “We’ll talk later. For now, find Bonway and Sicily and have them start moving the bodies to the quarry.”
“Will do, Cap,” Sveth replied with a sideways salute that came off awkward enough to make both Tariq and Devren smile. Granson and Sveth hurried off through the trees.
Devren turned back to Tariq. “We need to hide our tracks. I’ll meet you back at the church house.”
Tariq lowered his voice. “What about Liora?”
The sound of her name made Liora realize she still had not moved. The blood on her hands was drying into a sticky mess. She wondered if the moss beneath the bodies around her felt the same way. She tried to center her thoughts, but to do so meant to accept the carnage. She wasn’t ready for that. It was easier to listen to the crackle of the light that sparked through the trees.
“I’ve got her,” Devren said, his voice gentle. “We’ll meet you at the church. Mother’s going to need your skills.”
“You should have learned to heal,” Tariq said. His footsteps crunched through the undergrowth. “It’d come in handy in these situations.”
“I can’t stitch worth a copper; you know that,” Devren replied. “I’d rather people live.”
“That makes two of us,” Tariq replied over his shoulder. He disappeared between the trees.
Chapter 8
“Liora?”
She kept her gaze on a leaf that glowed gently in shades of red and purple. It pulsed like blood flowing through a human’s veins. The effect was beckoning and calming. It slowed the adrenaline and loosened Liora’s chest so she could breathe again.
“Liora.”
Liora pulled her gaze from the leaf. Devren’s dark eyes searched her face. His hand was raised halfway as though he had intended to brush back the hair that stuck to her cheek, but he wasn’t sure if the action was a good idea. Liora didn’t know, either.
There were a million things Devren could say. Though he kept the judgement from his gaze, Liora knew he had seen it again. The blood that coated her skin was merely a faint second to the eagerness of her blade and the way she had searched for the next enemy with relish.
She lowered her gaze.
“Don’t do that,” Devren said quietly. “Don’t take on the guilt. You saved lives today, many lives.”
“You saw me out there. I’m nothing more than a killing machine. It’s what I know. It’s what I do.” She watched the glowing green moss at her feet. “They were right to be afraid. Once it hits me, I can’t stop until every threat is dead. I’m not one of them; I’m not human. I’m a beast made to murder.” She let her voice drop. “You shouldn’t let me near your human family, your village, your ship, or your planet. Everything dies in my wake. I destroy life, not save it.”
Devren’s hand touched her shoulder. “Liora, look at me.” When she refused, he spoke anyway. “There is nothing more human than protecting those you care about.”
Liora shook her head, unwilling to let his words sink home. Her chest churned with emotion as she stared at the blood on her hands and arms. She didn’t deserve his empathy. He should fear her like everyone else.
At her silence, Devren continued, “Why did I run to Verdan when I knew the Coalition was on our trail? It’s because I know there’s a village ready to fight at my back. I grew up here. I learned to fight beside my friends who were more like brothers and sisters to me. I knew they would join the battle on our side because we’ll defend each other to our last dying breath. It’s the human way.” His voice quieted and he said, “I think you’re more human than you know. You killed, and now the fact that you regret it means you’re not some mindless creature made only to destroy.” He touched her arm. “You don’t have to hold it all inside.”
His words undermined her carefully controlled calm, and when she looked at him, the compassion that burned in his dark gaze broke through the walls she had carefully built around her heart.
Tears burned in her eyes. She blinked quickly to keep them from falling.
“It’s alright, Liora,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, especially in front of me.”
His gentleness was something Liora wasn’t used to. It made her walls crumble and the tears broke free. Devren pulled her to him and his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. Her tears soaked his shirt. She couldn’t explain where the sadness came from, or why it felt like her heart was broken in two. But she felt safe in his arms, and when she stepped back and dried her cheeks, the understanding smile he gave her made her heart catch.
“You’re easier to understand when you’re not afraid to be vulnerable,” he said.
She gave him a small smile. “It’s not the fear of being vulnerable, it’s that in the Damaclan world, weakness is death. I have a hard time showing weakness.”
Devren nodded. “Maybe it’s time you accept that being vulnerable can be a strength instead of a weakness.”
Something soft brushed Liora’s hand. Devren glanced down and his eyes widened. Liora found the felis’ head beneath her fingertips, its green eyes dark and wild. Blood marked its whiskers from those it had slain at her si
de. Liora crouched and ran a hand down its neck. The felis closed its eyes. The blue outline of its bones along its gray fur glowed brighter and the low rumbling purr vibrated from its chest.
She lowered her hand. The huge cat opened its eyes once more, its gaze on the jungle. Liora rose. The felis stalked silently back into the trees on clawed feet. It disappeared without looking back.
“Is there a reason that felis fought beside you?” Devren asked with a tone of confusion.
Liora glanced back and had to hide a smile at the trepidation on his face as though he feared the cat would come back and attack them.
“I saved its life and it saved mine,” she told him.
“I never thought I’d see the day a felis would fight beside one of us instead of against us,” Devren said.
Something about the way he said it chased the edge of bitterness from Liora’s heart. She couldn’t explain why the cat had gone against all its instincts to fight with her, but Devren was right. After everything, she was one of them rather than one of the enemy who lay slain at her feet.
“Maybe it felt it had to choose a side,” she said.
“Maybe there wasn’t a choice at all,” Devren replied. He glanced at her. “Maybe it already knew where it belonged, it just had to accept it.”
Liora shook her head at his statement, but she couldn’t hide the begrudging smile that spread across her face at his words. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe.” Devren lifted his shoulders in a shrug; a teasing smile lifted one corner of his lips. “But you’re the one who just pet Verdan’s greatest predator.” He looked at the blood on his fingertips, then back at her shoulder. “You need to get fixed up.”
“I can wait,” she replied. “Let them tend to the others first.”
Devren shook his head. “You’re a member of my crew, and also, my mom would kill me if I didn’t march you to the church to get treated.”
That brought a ghost of a smile to Liora’s face. “We wouldn’t want that.”
“No, we wouldn’t,” he agreed.
Liora walked beside him through the forest. The sight of Echo citizens working alongside the Kratos crew to clear away the bodies of the slain filled her with mixed emotions. She knew she was responsible for many of those they carried. Her ability to kill and not feel the consequences had scared her; what terrified her even more were the emotions that now threatened to overwhelm her. The only asset she brought to the Kratos crew was her ability to protect them. If she lost her edge, she might lose the only family she had.
Devren led the way into the church. Liora had never been inside a worship house before. It was different than she had expected. There weren’t any chairs. Long, padded planks lined the floor at regularly spaced intervals. The pulpit at the end was made of glowing wood which detailed the carvings of lightning etched around the form of a man.
Blankets covered the ground and the moans and cries of pain from the men and women on top of them filled the air. Mrs. Metis and two other women worked on a man near the center of the room. He held his leg which lay in tatters below the knee. Liora saw Mrs. Metis pick up a bone saw. With a tight heart, Liora turned away from the man’s protests. To the Damaclan, such an injury could be worse than death.
“Come this way,” Devren said. He led her through a door to a small washroom.
“Are we supposed to be back here?” Liora asked. As much as she was glad to be away from the main room filled with people in pain, she wondered why nobody else used the small washroom at the back of the church.
“Jamste’s a friend of mine,” Devren replied. He turned on the faucet and waited for the water to grow warm. He glanced at Liora in the small mirror. “He owes me one.”
He motioned for Liora to put her hands in the small stone-lined sink. Liora hid a wince at the bite of the warm water on the nicks across the backs of her hands from the battle and the bandaged gash in her palm that had been worn raw by the hilt of the knife.
“You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t hurt,” Devren said.
Liora looked up to find him watching her in the mirror. He gave her a small smile and picked up a rag and some soap.
“Actually, he owes me a few more than one,” Devren continued.
He used the rag to gently wipe her hands. Liora felt strange standing there while someone else took care of her by doing things she was capable of doing for herself.
“We used to play a pretty rough game.” A hint of embarrassment brushed Devren’s cheeks with red. “Coalition against the Macrocosm. Tariq came up with it, and we played it every waking hour our parents would let us. We thought we were invincible.”
The thought of the two men as boys running through the jungle playing war games cheered Liora. He moved the rag to her arms and she stilled.
“I can do that,” she said, her voice soft.
Devren lifted a shoulder. “I’m not doing anything else right now.”
She nodded past him toward the sounds of agony and the reassuring voices of Mrs. Metis and Tariq.
“They could use your help.”
“So could you.”
Devren put a clean rag to Liora’s cheek where the blade had cut it open. Liora couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. The gentleness of his touch was so foreign she had to fight back a fight or flight rush of adrenaline.
“I have a question for you,” Devren said. There was a strange tone to his voice that caught her attention. “I’ve been debating whether to ask, but….”
His hesitation softened her fear over what he would ask.
“Go ahead,” she said.
She watched his dark eyes as he carefully washed the wound on her cheek. They flicked to her and then back to what he was doing.
“When you were stabbed by the thorn the day we found the Omne Occasus, why did you call for Tariq instead of me?”
The question hung in the air between them. Liora didn’t know how to respond. There was obvious disappointment in Devren’s voice that he tried to hide. She didn’t want to hurt him. The only thing she could think of was to go with the truth.
“I was dying,” she said. The words were hard to admit. She had never been so weak; it was hard to think of that day. “It wasn’t a conscious decision. I needed help, and I called for the first person that came to my mind.” She let out a short breath and admitted, “I wasn’t even sure Tariq would come. It didn’t make sense that I called him. I can’t explain it.”
A slight noise caught Liora’s attention. She turned to find Tariq standing in the doorway watching them. She couldn’t read the expression on his face. His gaze traveled over her arms and the cheek Devren had mostly cleaned. His keen eyes rested on her shoulder where the Arachnian’s sword had sunk through the dark fabric of her Ventican shirt.
His eyes narrowed. He put a hand to the wound. Liora winced at the gruffness of his touch.
Tariq drew his hand away and showed Devren the blood. “Have you learned nothing?” he demanded. Tariq’s angry tone surprised both Liora and Devren. “You always tend to the most critical wound first.”
“I though the blood was coming from her hand,” Devren explain with regret in his tone. “I was only trying to—”
“Let her pass out when she loses enough blood?” Tariq spat. “Great plan. Your mother would be proud.”
Liora saw the hurt on Devren’s face.
“Tariq—” she began.
“Come on. I’ll stitch you up,” Tariq said.
“I can help her,” Devren argued.
“You’ve done enough damage already,” Tariq replied.
“You’re the one who brought her here in the first place,” Devren pointed out. “She wouldn’t be injured if it wasn’t for you.”
Tariq’s jaw clenched. “And you would be dead if it wasn’t for me. You knew we would be here. That’s why you came back!”
Devren’s dark eyes flashed. “You’re an officer of the SS Kratos. You should have stayed with the ship in the first place.”
> “I was helping Liora,” Tariq replied. He gestured at her shoulder. “Unlike you.”
Liora couldn’t stand it any longer. “I can take care of myself,” she snapped. “Maybe you can stop fighting like a pack of heins and help those who sacrificed for you.”
She snatched the small medical kit from Tariq’s hand and stormed out of the washroom. Liora hurried past the wounded citizens being tended to by Mrs. Metis and her daughter, and pushed through the church doors. Someone called her name. Liora ducked behind the next house.
Grateful for the cover of darkness, Liora made her way to the Metis house and the starship beyond. The secondary lighting flickered on when she pushed the panel to trigger the door. She didn’t think she would be glad to smell the grassy scent of the Calypsan’s Tin Sparrow, but when she shut the door behind her, the silence and familiarity of the ship calmed her pounding heart.
Liora locked the door and took a seat on the shabby bed. Her shoulder ached, but not as much as her chest at the thought of Devren and Tariq at war with each other. She didn’t want to be the reason their friendship was damaged.
The situation had escalated quickly; Liora still wasn’t quite sure why Tariq had been so gruff when addressing them. Her experience with such social situations was limited. She hoped time might resolve things better than her interference.
Liora wrapped a bandage around her hand to keep the wound Devren had washed clean. As she tied off the cloth, she couldn’t help remembering how gently he had bathed her skin, his fingers soft and careful as though he understood a life where every touch used to mean pain.
Liora shook her head to clear her thoughts and sorted through the small medical kit she had taken. She picked a curved bone needle and a length of waxed string. A small container labeled disinfectant filled the air with a tangy scent when she poured some on a clean cloth. She pulled her sleeve down to reveal the wound, and scooted to the end of the bed where she could see her reflection in the small window.
The disinfectant stung, then had the surprisingly welcome effect of numbing the wound. Liora had stitched plenty of her own injuries without painkillers and she had no qualms about doing so again, but stitching a wound with minimal pain seemed almost a luxury.