Then I could have done what I will inevitably do to him now that I’m already eighty solars too late. I’ll ram my horns straight through his chest and, while he chokes on his own blood, I’ll snap his cock off like a twig.
“But,” Rhorkanterannu sighs, “you’re in luck. I happen to know that this bounty hunter has a weakness. Only one. A target that’s been on his list for twelve rotations, but who’s managed to evade him all this time. It’s too big a prize for him to pass up. We can use her as bait and lure him in and then, when the moment is right, we’ll strike. I’ll connect her to this communication.”
Before I can ask any more questions, a voice fires into the chamber, loud and female and fully hostile. “Rhorkanterannu, don’t you even shroving think of asking me for another shroving favor…” Though she speaks in Meero, her voice is slurred. She sounds drunk. “I chased Herannathon halfway across the shroving Quadrants for you…”
“And yet, Ashmara, you came back empty handed.” He shakes his head, voice docile in a way I’ve never heard, like he shares some affection for this female. Or for everyone. What happened to the hardened warlord I knew? “How pitiful that you call yourself a reaver…”
“Next time I see you, I’m gonna shove a comet up your ass so big, you’ll shit space dust for rotations.”
Rhorkanterannu laughs. He ohring laughs while Essmira is missing, trapped in the hands of a mindless drone, a beast cobbled together by all the Skys’ most terrible parts. Their greatest assassin. Their prized bounty hunter. He did that to Gorman’s face. He cut out those Egamas’ tongues. What is he doing to her?
I breathe a little deeper knowing that this isn’t how a bounty hunter works. He needs her alive and in good condition to make his sale. Tyto has fourteen tuns of kintarr to barter with, at least. The Sky will want this to go through. They won’t risk this faceless killer hurting her.
“Glad to see all that muuim hasn’t totally dulled your wit.” Muuim. An addictive substance. Is the solution to all of our problems a female addict? I want to reach through the screen and tear the tines in Rhorkanterannu’s spine out with my horns, snapping each one off at the base individually, just to hear him scream.
Meanwhile, the faceless female called Ashmara quips, “What are you talking about? Where else do you think I get my charming personality?”
“ENOUGH! Can she help us with the bounty hunter or not?” I seethe.
“Bounty hunter?” She answers before her voice catches. When she exhales, her voice is shaky. “Don’t tell me. A certain Sky bounty hunter is wreaking havoc on one of your operations?” She laughs darkly. “Which one of y’all’s been blessed by Jerrock?”
Jerrock. That’s the name of the male who took my life.
That’s the name of the male who will die by my hand.
“Raingar of Lemora and I are joined in this. It would seem that, for once, our troubles are one in the same.”
“Who’d have thunk it? Filthy pirates working together with you sweet Lemoran cuties.” Cuties? Cuties! “Sigh. It gives me shroving goosebumps. Makes my heart hurt and all, but if that’s all you’ve got, Tintin and I have a preexisting engagement on Evernor with some gladiators…”
“We found Herannathon,” Rhorkanterannu barks, “and right now, I need to send him to you.”
“What the shrov are you talking about? You found Herannathon? You want to send him to me? What the shrov am I gonna do with a four armed idiot on my ship? Tintin and I don’t have enough space as it is.”
“Herannathon made contact after he lost track of the Egama ship. Looks like the Egama weren’t the only ones on it. One of your friends was on there, too.”
Ashmara is quiet. So quiet, I wonder if she’s still there. “Did Jerrock have the human female Herannathon is after?”
“Our sensors caught a human presence when the ship was still outside of our atmosphere, but when the ship docked, the only creatures that disembarked were two Egama. And now, the ship’s gone,” Bebette says, voice pitched as a whisper. Meanwhile, I’m outright shocked.
“It’s gone?”
“Yeffa. I’m so sorry, Raingar. I don’t know how the ship broke free of our shields. All I know is that three dead Rekkaru and the Egama are all that this assassin left behind.” She sniffles and my heart breaks. Those were beings of Lemora. They were ours and, like Essmira, like Gorman, this bastard stole them from us.
“Those are shields you sold us, Rhorkanterannu,” I seethe. “How did he get through them?”
Ashmara speaks first. “Shields are nothing to him. He’s trained to disable any and all of them, but he…did he…” She clears her throat. “What about the Egama that were with him on his ship? How did he leave them?”
I seethe, “With their tongues cut out.”
“He tortured them badly. I’m not sure for how long, or if they’ll ever recover. Neither mentally nor physically,” Merquin adds.
“Shrov,” Ashmara says, sounding painfully sincere. “He’s a killer. He’s been hunting me for rotations. I know what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with him. I…” She clears her throat and when she speaks again, the tenderness I thought I’d heard is all rotten off like the moldy skin of some fruit. Only saccharine, dead flesh remains. “Anywho. Sounds like a you problem, and not one that I can help you with…”
Rhorkanterannu’s voice cuts in strong and deep. “I need you to drop your shields, Ashmara.”
“Oh my stars, you almost got me there. I almost thought I heard you suggest that I drop my shields? Hah hahah hahhhh!” She laughs in this horrible, theatrical way that makes me cringe.
Even Rhorkanterannu’s stoic silver mask slips when he winces. “Ashmara!” He barks a bite that stings…
…but she doesn’t back down. “Centare! You listen to me, you ugly thug. You think I’ve managed to avoid the Killer of Sky by walking around with a target strung around my neck? That’s called a noose, in case you were wondering sweet little Rhorky bear, and that’s how Eshmiri reavers get strung up. Nuh uh, pirate. No shroving way.”
The pirate Rhorkanterannu bears down on the arms of his huge metallic seat with his upper two hands. The two lower hands remain out of the picture, even has he starts to lift out of his seat, like he wants nothing more than to come through the screen and throttle the female, whoever she may be.
Ashmara. An Eshmiri reaver. Which makes no sense because reavers are only male. A female Eshmiri reaver should be exceptional, but I don’t pay attention to these things and have never heard of her. There are billions of creatures in the known Quadrants and a billion more in the unknown ones.
And all I care about is one right now.
I blurt, “Drop your shields. Once we recover Essmira and gut this bounty hunter, we’ll go to the rendezvous point with Tyto. He has fourteen tuns of kintarr in his possession and I guarantee that’s what he’ll use to pay your hunter with. If you help us now, it’s yours.”
“Half is yours,” Rhorkanterannu amends, as if this were always part of the plan and not something I’ve suggested spur of the moment. The bloody pirate.
Ashmara makes a loud squawking sound. “You bloody pirate.”
“You good-for-nothing reaver. Do we have a deal? We don’t have time to waste. He could be to Tyto already and this deal only works if you drop your shields now.”
Another pause. This one tears through me like paper. In the background, I hear bottles clinking and then the sound of the female releasing a loud belch. “Ughh. Fine. If he guts me, don’t say I didn’t die a hero.”
Her audio cuts out, leaving me facing Rhorkanterannu once more. It feels like we’re alone as Merquin and Reyna and Tana all make plans to grab the battleship and pick each of us up from our keeps directly — an act that, in my life span, has never been done.
“Are you happy with this plan, clan chief?”
My shoulders tense by my ears. The ringing in my horns is silent. “Yeffa. So long as I get Essmira back.” I pause. “And so long as I get to kill someone.”
He smirks, “Good. Then bring weapons. A lot of them.”
“Why are you helping us, pirate?” I squeeze my fists tight, watching him…waiting for the deception to become clear because pirates are always deceiving.
He grins to show all of his pearlescent teeth. “Like you, I happen to have a soft spot for humans.” He slowly stands and starts to turn away from me and just before the holo screen cuts out, I see a shocking thing:
Trapped against his chest, sleeping like the dead, the pirate king Rhorkanterannu was holding a baby.
And that infant had brown skin that looked just as soft as Essmira’s, even though it had four arms.
That baby was half-Niahhorru.
And the other half? That was human.
16
Essmira
A soft grunt, and then silence.
“Gorman? Is that you?”
I look up from the fabric swatches I brought into my chambers to work on — a good distraction from worrying about the Egama and the human that may or may not be with them.
One fabric swatch is for a new dress for myself. Three are for similar dresses I’ve been asked to make by Asgid workers. They’re smaller in stature than the Lemoran and often dress fully covered, even the males, and have flocked to me for the designs I’ve been making for myself since they’re made from durable wego fabric, wick water somewhat and, more importantly, dry quickly in the ever-present rain.
I’m thinking of customizing a couple styles to fit the Rekkaru, too, but I notice that they tend towards brighter fabrics. Perhaps, I could even hand dye some patterns. The Walrey dyes came out beautifully. I wonder what Lyla would think. I could even dip them in wax to create stark shapes…
My mind is racing and I smile as I look up as I hear another soft moan and then a stranger sound, like water dripping. “Gorman, you don’t have to babysit me, you know. I know that there’s a lot to prepare with new guests…Oh. Hello.”
I perform the Lemoran greeting at the male who walks through the two-story high doors into my chambers. I’d left them open for Gorman, but this is definitely not Gorman. In fact, it isn’t anyone I’ve seen before here on Lemora. He isn’t even a species I’ve seen before. I’m not sure, he’s even flesh and blood, there’s so much metal covering him. And the first thought that hits me, hits hard.
“Who did this to you?” I whisper, not having meant to say the words aloud.
His one eye widens in surprise and I feel terror pierce me down to my toes. And then the moment passes when he takes a step forward.
The male stands tall, just taller than Raingar if you removed his horns and he has on what has to be the strangest garment I’ve ever seen. Black, it covers his chest from his right shoulder to his left hip. It molds to fit his body so tightly, I can see the definition of his many muscles through the thin, matte fabric.
His right arm is covered by the same fabric that coats his chest, but his left arm, pectoral, and some of his abdomen is concealed by metal. It sparkles bright, looking like freshly minted stalyx. Only…it isn’t covering him, is it? It looks like it is him. The way his arm bends at the elbow…I can see metallic joints connecting the upper arm to the lower. A similar metal vein shoots up the left side of his neck.
The left side of his face is also partially constructed of metal. He has a metal plate contoured to where a cheek would be, but above that, there’s no eye, there’s just a flat dark grey sheen. It moves freakily, like black sand is shifting beneath it, forming patterns and swirls.
That metal brow curves over his forehead, over his crown, to form the bulk of his skull on the left side. On the right side, however, above his forehead, straight, white hair grows. It cascades over his right shoulder, halfway down his back, the tips touching the tops of his pants, which are covered in the same black fabric. He wears flexible black boots that mold to the shape of his large, flat feet.
And everywhere that isn’t metal? Well, it’s red. His skin is red. Drakesh colors, like mine, they’re familiar to me. He even has a red tail. It lazes behind him, bored, its coated tip hovering just above the ground. He looks like he was cut down the middle and everything on his left side that was once red skin and flesh and bone beneath it was swapped out for metallic parts.
Who did this to him? Did it hurt? Was he injured? Did these modifications save his life? What did he look like before?
A daring thought crosses my mind as something powerful shifts in my heart. I know him. I know this male. “Do I know you?” I whisper, throat and lips suddenly dry. I’m backing away from him without knowing why. “You seem familiar to me.”
He doesn’t speak. He just takes another step into the room. In his eyes — in his one eye that looks so strangely similar to mine, a dark brown ring surrounding a black dot floating in a white pool — there is no recognition. There is nothing.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, even as I stumble back with one hand raised. My body knows he is a predator even if everything else about him pulls me forward, wanting to comfort this male I know from another life. “I’m so sorry,” I say, feeling somehow like I failed him.
I don’t know why, but I am sorry. Deeply. From the bottom of my soul.
All the goodness of Lemora can’t compete with the blind indifference of his gait. Like nothing matters to him. Like he is nothing. He sees nothing. Like he hardly even exists.
His full, vermillion lips don’t so much as twitch. They don’t open. His expression is blank as he carries himself silently across the room, stopping directly in front of me. He raises his metallic arm in front of my face and I don’t know any better, so I don’t hold my breath. I just breathe in the light, citrusy scent. Then I fall into the void of his gaze where there is no light, where there is no happiness, where there is nothing at all. Not even grief or pain or longing.
I wake up what feels like a moment later, but I know it hasn’t been, because my environment is entirely changed. Everything that was the earthy, nurturing taste and feel of Lemora’s soil and the strength and stony love that was Raingar’s keep has been stripped away. What’s left is so bare it makes my bones ache.
I can feel the lovelessness of this place radiating through my conscious mind. It doesn’t feel nice and neither does my skull. It’s pounding so hard I can barely breathe. Was that citrus scent a gas? A poison? It must have been…
“At least I’m still alive,” I mutter to myself, caught by the realization that I haven’t spoken to myself in a long time.
On Lemora, I always have someone to talk to.
But I’m not on Lemora anymore, am I?
I cough into the glassy, glossy white floor. It feels oily to the touch even though nothing comes off on my hands, and shines with all the bright lights reflecting off of it. Everything is so white it hurts. Everything is so bright and soulless, including the male who sits at the small stool in front of what I must assume are controls but that don’t resemble anything I’ve seen before in my life.
A large table forms a circle around him that’s three-quarters complete. It’s tilted towards him and, from where I lay on my belly, it’s possible to see only a mercurial surface that undulates in waves, cresting and arching beneath his deft touch. It’s like the liquid sand that lives in his left eye. It’s like he’s playing an instrument except there is no music. There is no sound at all. It’s terrible. I haven’t been in silence like this since I was property of Tyto and Igmora.
But I’m not that female anymore.
I am miriga and this male has no right to cage me.
Even still, I’m not a fool I know I’m no match for him, either, and that I’ll need to be careful. My thumb rubs over the scar on the inside of my palm. This is a new adversary but the mission is still the same. Freedom. Return to Lemora. Return to Raingar and his wild and grumpy ways. But first, I will need to be patient.
Jerky movement beneath me makes the ache in my skull more intense. The male gets up and moves to the wall behind me. He passes right by me to do it and he doesn’t even loo
k at me or acknowledge my presence in any way. It makes me feel like a ghost. Like I’m already dead. Nob. I shudder violently as the entire carrier beneath me sways.
Nob, not a carrier. A ship. It’s a small one. At least, this chamber is small and there are only two openings. One is a round circle in the wall that looks in on what I assume is a wet room judging by the clear, circular tube that falls from the ceiling to the floor. There’s a hole in the floor behind it where, if I had to guess, the poop goes.
The other opening is sealed with a white hatch. The male extends his wrist toward some sort of scanner and a red light fires from his wrist to the white surface. There’s a hiss and then the male spins a physical handle mounted in the center of the round hatch. Next, he swings it open inward.
I panic, worried about the air pressure and hold my breath, but when nothing changes, I release it. I glance at the control panel, but I know I won’t be able to figure it out in the time it takes for him to come back, so I lunge for the hatch instead. I throw it closed. I’m surprised when it seals shut beneath me…too surprised. It was too easy.
I look at the handle and try to spin it closed but it doesn’t move beneath my touch. Panic grips me.
I stagger up onto my feet and fall. My head…it hurts. I can’t focus. The little ship that is my new cage doubles around me and then triples. Somehow, I manage to drag myself up onto the stool. It spins. Pagh! Pagh? Did I just say pagh, like Raingar? The thought makes my lips twitch, despite the circumstances.
My hands settle on the controls. Well, the non-controls. Rather, my hands fumble over the sand. It’s cold to the touch and feels strangely like liquid. My fingers fumble around on top of it, but no matter where I press, nothing happens. There are no markings, not in any language, and I’ve never been introduced to technology like this, so I don’t know where to begin. So I touch everything.
Feeling defeated, I slump and turn around on the stool, trying to see what I might use in this austere environment as a weapon, but before I can get up and move to one white cabinet built directly into the wall, out of nowhere, an orange light turns on in the ceiling over my head. It blankets everything in a creepy orange glow. And a breath later, the hatch explodes open.
Taken to Lemora Page 21