by S. K. Holder
She held the First Status Citizen in high regard. As her commanding officer he reminded her when to step up and when to step down. Nonetheless, he spent more time above the battlefield than on it, and as a consequence had no idea how many aliens she had killed that morning or the day before.
His eyes lingered for a moment on the unconscious figure lying on the rocks. He jammed the laser gun into his leg holster and met her gaze. ‘You missed cadet training yesterday.’
Lin scowled. ‘I had other business to attend to.’ She disliked teaching anyone and had not given the cadet training any thought. Most of the new recruits were Citizen youths. Eager to take up the family mantel, they joined the fleet with little notion of what awaited outside their city walls until it was too late.
Garis ran his thumb under his chin, watching her thoughtfully. ‘Other business?’
‘Killing things.’ Lin threw her Ryber weapon into the open jaw of the alien looming up behind Garis, the one he thought he had killed. The alien gave a long screech and drew itself up before crashing to the ground. Garis hopped forward with wide eyes, and then spun round to survey the alien’s corpse.
‘What was it you said about slacking?’ she asked.
His cheeks coloured and he fixed her with a glare. ‘I was saving it for you.’
‘I’m sure you were.’ Eager to retrieve her blade, she strode over to the alien’s carcass and prised open its mouth.
‘You haven’t been the same since Narrigh. Did something happen?’
‘You’ve been talking to my father.’ Her father had conveyed his concern about her well-being in front of the entire family. The recollection of it made her cringe. He had wanted to counsel her regarding her feelings for Thorn. Her father had said she had not stopped speaking of him since she returned home. He didn’t know she had used Thorn’s name in place of another. In the past she had spoken of Thorn with such venom it was no wonder her father thought that he was the cause of her brooding moods. ‘Take no notice of him. I’m fine. And as to your question. Yes, something did happen. It always does. That’s why I went.’
‘You seem less focused.’
‘I’m always focused.’ Holding her breath against the stench, she stuck her hand into the creature’s mouth and felt for the handle of her dagger. She tugged it from the alien’s porous tongue with effort. She plucked up a rock slate from the ground and used it to wipe the gore from the blade. Then sheathing her weapon, she made her way over to the groaning civilian, who was slowly regaining consciousness. She knelt over her.
In a short time Garis had joined her. His arms folded, he circled Lin, keeping a look out for more alien scavengers. ‘I thought she was dead.’
‘I had to knock her out. She was hysterical.’
He spared the civilian a swift glance. ‘Where’s she from?’
‘Not this world. Her screams were too raw. Peltarcks know that screaming won’t help them.’ She examined the woman’s right hand out of protocol more than anything. ‘No sign of a mark and her wounds aren’t healing.’
There were no pockets in the civilian’s shirt or trousers for Lin to rifle through. The woman had a blue ribbon around her neck. Lin lifted it free. Suspended from it was an identity card made from an unfamiliar material. The civilian at her feet matched the one in the photo: a woman in her late twenties dressed in an unappealing grey and white striped blouse with dark brown hair and a mole-speckled face.
Garis read the identity card from over her shoulder. ‘Beth Crosswell. Senior Level Designer. Tridan Entertainment.’
‘I’ve never heard of Tridan Entertainment. You?’
‘No. We’ll take her into custody. And when she wakes, she can tell us.’
At that moment, Beth Crosswell’s eyes popped open. She took one look at Lin crouching over her and screamed.
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[1] Unmarked One(s) – non-Citizens.
[2] Slow-burners - clay straws impregnated with strips of linen, dipped in animal fat and alcohol.
[3] Plowmen (Plowman – singular) are silent half-ogres who can temporarily disable a race’s abilities, innate or otherwise. They are often found in prisons and vaults, anywhere that needs to be heavily guarded.
[4] Craybine - a clay-like substance, found several feet below ground, used to reinforce walls.
[5] Escarpard Root – a creeping plant, which locks on to any immobile object and literally chokes to death anything or anyone that threatens its domain.
[6] Parr - a local cleric.