by K Alexis
How did you escape?
Nine: The Sellers
AGRA GLANCED AT the shopkeeper. He had thick, bushy eyebrows that concealed his dull-blue eyes and drew attention from his double chin. In every city they had stumbled across during their travels, they had discovered one of his stores. From the heartlands of atheist Utah to the metropolises of Zuid-Afrika, they had found his indifference down alleys and up in the most elegant of towers. And no matter what class or patronage had been in the store, Broken Pieces, the clerk's fashion choices had remained unchanged. He always wore rectangular glasses, baggy jeans and obscure comic-book T-shirts. The shopkeeper noticed Agra's stare and smiled back in as forced a manner as possible.
"I don't think he's gotten any older," Agra said to Tath as he picked up a metal cube that vibrated in his hands.
"Is there some rule that says mages can't get into the merchant game?" Tath asked as she rifled through the secondhand-arrow bin. "Do they have an official code of conduct they sign that says something like 'I will never sell items for profit to the peasantry'? Or some other such shit?" She leaned right into the container, and Agra could hear the odds and ends inside clank and clunk as Tath sorted through them.
"It seems like a waste of potential," he said. "Why be all powerful and then put up with customers?"
"Because some of his customers are awesome."
"Like you?" Agra put the box back on the rack where he had originally gotten it from and looked along the seemingly endless shelves. Broken Pieces always unsettled him. Everything felt so distant and yet so near. The cash register seemed to hover in the background no matter how far they had walked or the number of departments they had visited. Rows of goods, the very goods Agra had just thought about, were always a few steps away. Women's fashion was next to radios, yet also three paces from camping equipment, vegetables and entertainment. Broken Pieces should have been rich with celestial magic, and Agra should have constantly sensed changes in the tides of power as they crested and crashed when items teleported in and out of the store. Instead, the place emitted a tranquility that made Agra feel as if all the forces in the universe had found a way to coexist within the building's walls.
"Hah," Tath said, pulling herself out of the bin. "Homing arrows. Splitting homing arrows. I knew I'd seen them somewhere. Next time Keri tries to fuck with us …" She cut herself off and nodded.
"Is that your way of saying we're going to talk about Steh … or your way of ignoring what happened?" Agra asked.
Tath put the three arrows she had found into her basket and strode toward the back of the store. Agra followed, walking past a man in a long cape staring intensely at several religious artifacts. She stopped at a selection of dresses. They did not seem to be sorted into any particular order; it was as if they had been lumped together due to their utility. Multitudes of colors stared at him: pink, rainbow, neon, pastel, obsidian and others he would never wear. Tath picked up a pineapple-colored one, stretchy and a half-size too small for her frame. She pulled it to see how far the material would extend. "Do you think Mea would like this?" Tath asked, holding it in front of her body.
The dress had no sleeves, so Agra stretched it by its shoulders to get a better understanding of how it would fit Tath. "My question first," he said.
"Steh's not a Starfire," Tath replied.
"He glowed silver like the one in Sacramento did."
"Oh, you're a celestial specialist now?" she countered. "Did stealing comics give you degree in the field? Or did you unlock the universe's mysteries by whacking off to Lara's modeling photos?"
"I know a little bit," Agra hedged.
Tath pulled the dress over her head and slid it down her body. It bulged on every seam the clothes she was wearing had but showed the garment served its purpose: to accent her cello-figure and well-curved rear. "Me too," she said. "And I know a lot about those damn lab rats. You're wrong. Starfires shoot straight beams when they explode, not transmute the caster's arms. He drew too much power and lost control. Lots of mages die the same way. And, anyway, he would've told us if he was one. That's what friends do." She pulled the dress' neckline down a smidge. "Back to my question, do you think Mea would go for it?"
"As a present or on you?" Agra asked.
"Obviously on me. Or am I so fucking horn-dog for you that it's rubbing off on all of our group members, and I'm imagining her lusting after me too?"
Agra shrugged. "Last month, she started swimming by herself, and now she blushes when you change in front of us. Not that blushing's a sign she wants to spend all night tickling your privates. There could be other reasons."
"Sure. And having a hard-on is sometimes about signaling where to go next in the woods." Tath attempted to slide the dress off, but it snagged on her other clothes. "A little help?" she asked Agra.
Like he had done a dozen times before, Agra carefully removed the dress and handed it back to Tath.
After taking the item from him, Tath rubbed its material between her fingers. "Thanks," she said. "Why do you think she hasn't talked to me about her wants? We often sleep in the same bed to save money, and I've always been open about my bisexuality."
"Maybe it's because you're always claiming you want to have sex with me?" Agra answered. "Or maybe she's shy. Who could know?" He picked up some of the apparel near him and started going through it. None of the dresses seemed very practical. There was one that would have barely covered ten centimeters of thigh on a regular woman and another with two circulars holes where the breasts would sit. One deeper in the bin was not made from solid fabric at all but a collection of threads tied together in the shape of a frock.
Tath sighed and tossed the yellow dress in the basket. She began rummaging through a set of drawers filled with bras and knickers. "I'm thinking of giving up on you," she said as she pulled out a pair of blue-grey panties that had a deep-triangular cut. "I'm looking for a fuck partner, y'know? Not a life one."
"And you think Mea will be more open to your charms?" Agra asked.
"I know she watched me for the three-and-a-half hours I went at it with … Lan, Tan, Hal?" She stopped and stared blankly at a rack of swimwear. "What was his name?"
"Beerbrah Seventeen?" Agra volunteered.
"It could've been. I didn't ask for his N-Comm tag; I'm not a goddamn encourager." She threw the knickers in the basket. "Can you see the bra for it?" Tath asked him.
"Not really looking," Agra replied.
"Typical man, getting all squeamish in this section." She opened the top drawer and kept searching. "You going to be okay with this?"
"With you and Mea? Sure, as long as you don't get us kicked out of another hotel because you're too loud."
"Found that fucker," Tath said, placing the bra with the rest of the items. She swiveled and looked at Agra. He noticed her steely gaze had softened, and her tawny eyes appeared to be a hue lighter. "You're a sweetie," she said. She moved upward to peck him on the cheek, so Agra leaned down to meet her halfway. When their faces were as close to each other as possible without actually touching, she said, "I'm still going to fuck you. Don't worry."
* * *
THE CREWS OFFERING "safe" transport were a mismatched group of privateers, overly rich playboys and enthusiastic hobbyists. Male, female and non-binary captains stood in front of their boats bartering with potential passengers—telling them about their fatality rate, high-seas adventures and current standing with the political powers on Earth. Some of the vessels had faction marks on their sides, indicating they had been pre-approved for docking at different cities.
At the end of the pier was the zeppelin. Agra had learned her name was Nucia on their first trip with Captain Elia over five years ago. Like always, the airship hovered in a perpetual dimness as if banished from touching the sun for all eternity. He felt Tath shrink next to him. "Why did Ras Al Khaimah have to be so far?" she said. "The sack told us this one would be a freebie."
"If Steh'd beaten Kekeriwai, it would have been," Agra replied.
> "The lying piece of shit knew we'd lose to an age-old crime-lord. Steh's a shitty sideshow hustler, not the bomb you hope him to be."
"You're protesting his innocence a lot for someone who thinks he isn't a Starfire," Agra said, trying to reignite the earlier conversation.
"Fucking hell, if you're so certain, we could always ask my fath—"
"Ain't ya the portrait of land-loving lovers?" Elia boomed as she cut Tath off. Her voice was as strident and jagged as Agra remembered. He had argued for the zeppelin because it was the fastest way to get to Ras Al Khaimah and help Junko, but upon hearing the captain's voice, a host of repressed memories burst forth and reminded him of all the lectures and unrequested life-lessons he had received from Elia. Suddenly, he found himself having fresh doubts about their choice.
"Fancy seeing you here," Agra said, trying to cover his uncertainty as best as he could.
"There be nothing fancy about it," she replied. "Kekibo told me yar'd be here." She clapped her hands. "And here we be." She stepped toward them, changing from an immense silhouette to the defined person Agra knew. Her skin's uniquely marbled texture combined the colors of henna and honey in a way that accented her storm-cloud-grey eyes. She wore a frilled shirt, hemp black pants and a rusted cutlass that ended at the top of her sturdy boots. Elia flicked her hair back—the blue highlights accenting the roughness of her chin-length bob and the scars she had on each cheek. Despite Agra's height, she dwarfed him far more than Kekeriwai had. He guessed she was well clear of seven feet.
"Do you dramatically appear for every passenger … or just us?" Tath asked as she flexed her fingers.
Agra coughed, trying to distract from Tath's rudeness. "We were wondering if you would have room for four stragglers on their last legs?"
Elia smacked him on the shoulder. It hurt. "Only if they be having sexy ones." She laughed at her own joke. "Course I be. You be bunking sex with sex? Or have ya abandoned ya delicate aversion to bliss?" She winked at Tath.
"Mea and Tath will bunk together," Agra answered.
"Then get yar crew on this here vessel. We be leaving at dawn."
A small man—porcelain colored and wearing an expensive suit—pushed Agra out of the way before he could ask how long the trip would take. The man carried a black briefcase that he held so tightly his knuckles had somehow, and Agra was not sure how, gone whiter.
"I need to talk to the captain," he said in a huff. "Chop, chop."
Elia stood tall, her frame blocking out the sun. "What ya rhubarb be, whitey?"
The potential passenger cleared his throat, his cheeks going slightly ruddy. "That comment about my lineage was not necessary. And something I will bring up with your superior."
"I be the captain," Elia replied, her tone turning harsh. She clicked her tongue. "Out with yar business or get gone."
"Oh, you can’t be …" The man shook his head. "I heard this vessel was commanded by someone dangerous. Someone who could keep me safe from the Corsairs. You're—"
"Me shoulders be broad and chest slim, barely be a woman with them attributes. I say ya be pretty safe with an 'almost' man."
"I didn’t mean that," he stammered.
"We all be knowing what ya meant. Where ya be headed?"
The man swallowed. "I’d like to purchase a fare to the isles of Dark Haven. I have an important dice game, and I am willing to pay whatever it costs."
Elia sniffed in the sea air and turned her back to the three of them. She took one step toward the airship. "'A dice game,'" she repeated. "Ain't that be a tickle? Cause I be losing every time I roll them cubes of the devil."
"I can teach you," the man implored.
"First thing this here universe be telling us," she said, "we ain't supposed to be good at everything. We be all full up." Elia moved her hands in a stacking motion. "Me and the crew be packing folk two-bunks high. Now, Crimson Dagger, that be yar best option." She pointed to a red boat. It was only six-feet wide and nine long. Its crew were covered in scars, tattoos and grime. They were holding a person down and beating them. "Hear they be mighty kind for the right amount," Elia finished.
She pushed the man aside as he started to speak again and put her hands on both Tath and Agra's heads. "Be here dawn on the 'morrow, and ya be telling that Meagh I got to be seeing her after she be boarding. The world ain't all dark, even in the abyss."
2:35pm: Azra [P. Watcher 18034568X]
Well, you disappeared on me last mission.
How did you escape?
Tues, 21 Oct 65 P.C.T., 4:05am: Junko [Channel 37A4R]
By being better. Better fighter. Better lover. ~(˘▾˘~)
Ten: The Bribe
MEA BRUSHED DOWN her azure blouse and loose-fitting black pants. She had undone the top two buttons to give a hint of cleavage, but only because she knew Elia appreciated the feminine form in whatever shape it took. However, after she had received a number of wayward looks from leering men on her way down to the crew section, she had begun to regret her calculated gamble.
Exhaling the last of her emotions, Mea rapped on the oak door separating the communal area of Deck B from the secure section of the zeppelin. It sounded solid: a foot thick, if not more.
"Meagh Tristan?" a man asked through a port window.
"Yes," she replied.
"Place your N-Comm in the slot."
Mea heard the dull sound of a wooden barrier being raised. Reaching into one of her pockets, she pulled out her communicator. To ensure she invited no questions from the authorities on Earth, it was a standard-issue N-Comm and resembled a peach rectangle that was the length of an index card but about three-quarters its width. When it was powered off, a holographic picture of Mea was in the middle of the screen, along with a short biography and physical description of her. Almost all of the details were fabrications she had thought up at the start of her Navigator assignment.
She slid it into the open space. The barrier snapped shut. There was a long silence from the other side, but the airship was not devoid of noise. She could hear the engines rumbling and the gentle whispers of Grinner honeymooners as they explored their vast empire for the first time.
The barrier opened, and her card shot out. "You are approved," the man said.
Nothing had changed since she had been escorted to Elia's cabin last time; there were rows of suitcases, caches of food and other boxes crammed into the storage sections along the hull. Beyond those lay the radio room with its gum-chewing operator who chatted endlessly over the wireless. After her came the immaculately polished titanium doors of the officers' cabins. Tath had sworn she had been in a couple, but Mea did not believe her. She could not imagine the self-righteous Elia allowing any sort of misconduct to sully her crew's reputation. Finally, they arrived at the captain's quarters. The door was already open, and Mea was ushered in.
Elia sat with her feet up on a brightly colored desk while a record-player blared a rap record. She bopped her head along to the music as she mouthed the lyrics. Sometimes she skipped a word or phrase, something Mea assumed had to do with their offensiveness.
Mea pulled at her collar, and then at the open neckline. She blamed her first, and most wasteful, fashion purchase on Earth on her love of the planet's fiction and her distaste for its dry history texts. To her eternal regret, she had been forced to discover that the authors of her favorite books had not understood women's anatomy well enough to imagine clothes that were practical for their female protagonists. So when Mea had originally worn clothes similar to those described in the novels she had enjoyed, they had cramped her movement and made her attract men's wanton gazes when she was supposed to have blended in.
Over the years, her first few purchases had continued to prove practically useless due to their overly revealing nature and limited applicability in combat situations. However, she had refused to discard them because they reminded her of how important research was to a mission, despite its tediousness. And, also, because when she did wear them, Tath's gaze always lingered a lit
tle longer on her than usual.
The record ran its course, producing a crackling sound when it had finished. "Ain't that be the greatest?" Elia asked.
Mea could not tell if it was a rhetorical question or one genuinely directed at her. "Perhaps," she said, hoping to cover both bases.
Elia took the spindle off the record and tossed the album onto a pile of papers. Almost every page was written in a different language. "Ya know why I be ordering ya to see me like ya'r a mutie on a clank-gang?"
"No," Mea answered.
"Kekibo been talking about that murder of his copy. Said there been a lot of rage in yar punch." Elia took her feet off the table.
"That's how people react when attacked with a knife."
"Aye, that be how folk are these here days. Be that as the Sunset Lord wills it, a stabbing be as good excuse as any to let them true colors fly."
Mea narrowed her eyes. "I'm paying for board, not expensive psychoanalysis."
"Eh, it be one of them all-inclusive packages. Be taking the bad with the modest." Elia stood and stretched. "Ain't ya being tired of this universe, Navigator? The four basic seasons it be having and them predictable climates? Them sacks of muds' obsession with them ragged half-jeans? Ya've been to Solaris Prime. Ya've watched the birth of planets and a cosmos splintering into shards. Ya've listened to the Void Echo as it be singing its melancholic song. No book on this here blue deathtrap be replacing it. No matter how hard ya be wishing it so."
"Not all Navigators are the same," Mea hissed. "Just because you know my race's history, doesn't mean you know my future." Turiean or not, Elia was five paces from her. In this space Mea was confident she could take on anyone. She would be on top of Elia before the captain could cast a single spell.
Elia crouched down to match Mea's height and aligned her eyes so they were parallel. Mea held the captain's gaze. Eventually, Elia squinted and returned to her normal height. She cracked her knuckles. "Solar tides permitting," Elia said, "ya might grow a true heart in the eventide of yar life. But right now, I know ya be thinking that saving Stehlan's life be allowing ya to be taking it as yar wont."