by Tim Marquitz
Everything she’d ever known was now disappearing behind her, the Paradigm drifting lifeless. She watched as Krawlas shrunk into the distance and become a blur. It was only when it had completely faded from sight that she peeled her eyes from the view screen.
To let go was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do, but the past was the past. She only had the future to look forward to now.
She leapt from her seat and stormed from the bridge without a word or a glance behind her. For all the joy she knew she should feel that the vast majority of her people were safe, all she could think of was what they’d lost, what their survival had cost them.
Everything.
It struck her hard, welling up inside her, nearly unable to be contained. It would only be a matter of moments before she stormed over to Vort and snapped his neck with her bare hands if she didn’t do something to circumvent the rage boiling over inside her.
So, she stomped off the bridge to keep from doing something stupid, something she’d regret.
No matter how good it would feel.
Chapter Four
The corridors of the leech craft were crowded with anxious Furlorians, a fact she’d only realized when she marched off the bridge. They were everywhere.
Taj bit back her errant emotions and growled low in her throat as she stepped around a clustered group of them, doing her best to keep from plowing into them. They nodded and offered her subdued smiles she wasn’t ready to return yet.
She simply pressed on, finding a tiny space she could make her own.
Unlike the Paradigm, designed to ferry goods and people, the Wyyvan leech ship was a compact craft with little in the way of extra space. The corridors were narrow and sleek, utilitarian and sparse, and Taj could see her people sprawled out into the distance, making the best of their limited accommodations.
She groaned and, not for the first time, questioned the wisdom of letting Vort talk her into squeezing everyone into the tiny ship. Though, she had to admit, it wasn’t as if she’d had much of a choice.
That didn’t make her any happier about it, the thought only fueling her frustration with the whole of the Wyyvan invaders.
Taj fought the urge to smash a fist into the hull. A little pain would bring her thoughts into sharp focus, but she didn’t want her people to see her out of control. They needed her to be strong, and she’d be gacked if she’d lend Vort more space inside her head than he already occupied.
Besides, I don’t want to break my gacking hand.
She spun around a moment later, once she’d sufficiently reined in her fury. She returned the muttered thanks of her people with a wave as she made her way back to the bridge.
Captain Vort grinned at her as she returned.
She redirected her desire to punch him in his smug face by asking him a question. “This tin can have a name?”
“A rough translation from our language to yours would be the Discordant,” the captain told her, looking as if he’d caught a fly on his tongue, his smile so wide it threatened to split his green cheeks.
“Of course that’s what it’s called.” Taj grunted and shook her head. Couldn’t it be something positive like Sunflower or the Invincible? The We’re gonna Whup Every Gacking Wyyvans’ Ass in the Universe?
No such luck.
“Kal,” she ordered, having had more than enough of the captain and his second in command, even though Dard hadn’t said a word this entire time. “Find someplace to lock these two up. Someplace small and uncomfortable and smelly would be perfect. Feel free to hurt them a little if they give you grief.” Taj sneered. Vort and Commander Dard felt her vehemence wash over them. “And escort S’thlor up here after you’re done stashing these two gackpiles.”
Captain Vort chuckled at that and offered a lazy bow as he relinquished the seat he’d claimed, sliding out of it casually as if he’d been invited to dinner. “I’ll take this to mean you won’t be thanking me for saving your lives, Furlorian?”
Taj growled at him. “Be glad we didn’t leave you to the mercy of your people back on Krawlas or on the Paradigm. That’s all the thanks you’ll be getting, gack you very much, so I suggest you be grateful for it.”
Captain Vort shrugged. “You’ll need me again, no doubt,” he said. “Maybe next time you’ll appreciate my efforts. Perhaps I might even make you ask nicely before I acquiesce to rescuing your hide again.”
“Get him out of here.” Taj returned to the vacant captain’s chair and turned her back on the alien. Much as she knew he’d saved their lives with his advice and knowledge, she couldn’t find it in herself to thank him or even pretend the one selfish act evened out all the atrocities he’d committed against her people.
Not even close.
Too many good Furlorians had died for there to be any chance of her forgiving or forgetting.
Kal did as he was ordered and ushered the captain and Commander Dard off the bridge in a hurry, Jadie assisting him, her gun pointed at the captain to keep him in line. Taj had no doubt the queen would blast a hole in Vort if he so much as looked at her wrong.
He was smart not to. Taj doubted Jadie had a quarter of Taj’s restraint, which wasn’t saying much.
The door to the bridge still open, Taj could hear Vort’s incessant laughter carry down the corridor for another few moments before the sound finally faded into blissful silence.
Then Torbon arrived to ruin it.
“This ship is weird!” he shouted, stomping onto the bridge ahead of Cabe. “There’s, like, one big barracks-type room at the center of the ship, a small mess hall and kitchen next door, and a few tiny, private rooms scattered here and there, but the vast majority of the space is taken up by the umbilical boarding tubes, the systems that operate them and, surprisingly, a fairly robust weapons system. There’s even a plasma torpedo launcher.” He grinned like a little kid with a new toy. “But because of all that, folks are packed in tight everywhere. It’s like a coffin ship in here.”
Cabe, who’d arrived right after Torbon, smacked him in the back of the head with a resounding thump.
“Hey!” Torbon howled, spinning about, pawing at his skull. “What was that for?”
“Maybe you should take a moment before you speak and, I don’t know, perhaps think about what kind of drivel is gonna come out your mouth before you actually say it,” Cabe told him, casting a sideways glance outside the bridge at the throng of Furlorians sitting there, listening in.
“And deprive us of the brilliant witticisms that spill out so often?” Lina asked. “How dare you suggest that, Cabe.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Taj snapped, her voice edging into a growl. She hated her impatience, the frustration that came out so easily, but there was nothing she could do to draw it back. “Please…focus on the task at hand, okay?”
“Which is?” Torbon asked.
That was a good question. One she wasn’t completely sure she had the answer for. “We need someplace to go, a safe haven for our people, somewhere the Wyyvans can’t reach us.”
“That sounds great in theory,” Cabe told her, shaking his head, “but really, how do we do that? It’s not like we have a clue as to where we are. Gran Beaux and the others never properly charted the galaxy. We need to plot some coordinates and go from there first.”
She hated that he questioned her yet loved it at the same time. She was doing her best to stay strong, to lead, but she needed to be pushed, helped to make a decision she had no idea how to make on her own, and he seemed to realize that. He was pressing for a much-needed discussion regarding their future. “We need to…”
She sighed inwardly as Jadie returned right then, interrupting the start of the discussion as she led the captive Wyyvan, S’thlor, onto the bridge. Taj was grateful for a moment to let her whirling mind settle. Torbon’s aunt took the alien over to Lina and left him alone alongside the engineer. He stood there stiffly, the slits of his nose wiggling as he sniffed at the air, probably trying to determine where he was an
d who was there with him.
“We’re gonna need your help, S’thlor,” Taj told him. “We don’t know your language and can’t read the consoles.”
S’thlor chuckled. “You do remember I’m blind, right?” He cast a wounded glance vaguely in her direction.
Taj sighed, knowing gacking well he was blind, having been the one to take his sight from him. She regretted her actions now that things had changed, unable to blame it entirely on the fog of war that precipitated it. “What if Lina describes the symbols to you? Can you translate them?” she asked, not wanting to dwell on the momentary loss of restraint that had led to the alien’s crippling.
“I can certainly try,” he answered without argument.
Taj offered him a nod, biting back a chuckle when she realized what she’d done. “Do that then, please, and show Cabe the basic flight controls so he can pilot the craft as we don’t want to rely on that gackspittle Vort,” she said, moving alongside Lina and the captive alien. “And get the bridge door closed, Lina. We need to discuss our situation without an unintended audience,” she whispered to the engineer, motioning with her chin toward the people still lurking outside in the corridor.
S’thlor obliged her wishes and described the manner to seal the bridge off. And though he wasn’t a pilot, he admitted to having some small training in the field as the Wyyvan military apparently embraced the concept of cross-training, preparing their warriors in case replacements were needed in the heart of battle.
At least minimally.
Still, for that, Taj was grateful.
The less she had to call on Captain Vort to help them overcome obstacles, the better.
Fortunately, she and the other Furlorians had gotten closer to S’thlor after the remaining Wyyvans had been defeated. While he held an ember of animosity for her crippling him, he had grudgingly admitted, had the circumstances been reversed, he might very well have done the same thing.
Or worse.
As such, he’d surrendered to the circumstances and had joined the Furlorians’ cause rather than fight against it.
He’d told Taj early on, his people had little compassion for the fallen or captured, and they especially had no concern for a wounded soldier such as himself. He was a liability to them, and they would just as soon kill him as look at him. So, rather than surrender to the cruel fate his people would impose upon him, he’d chosen to side with the Furlorians.
In the months between the Wyyvan defeat and their brutal return, S’thlor had even become something of a friend to Taj and her people, offering them what assistance he could manage, entirely without restraint or demands for recompense.
Taj grinned at remembering his first awkward attempts at assimilating into their culture. It had been hard on him, she knew, but he never complained.
Well, he didn’t complain too much.
His roughened voice broke Taj from her reverie, and she glanced over at the alien, blinking away her memories.
“I’ve set the door to be opened manually, so you can do it yourself from either side with a swipe of your hand. It limits privacy and security, but I’m guessing convenience is more what you’re looking for right now,” S’thlor stated, gesturing in the general direction of a small panel set alongside the door. “I’ve also simplified and isolated the pilot’s station controls, allowing Cabe to fly the ship much like he would any other standard craft. His station will be limited to maneuvering functions, but he won’t require knowledge of our language to execute basic flight. However, navigation, control of the gate drives, and basically any other function but the simplest of flight requirements will need to be handled by another console. As of now, that’s this one.” He motioned to the one Lina sat in front of. “I’m working on pushing similar protocols to the captain’s console so you can override at any point necessary.”
“Thank you,” Taj muttered as the bridge door hissed shut. She exhaled in relief, glad to be out of sight of all the hopeful Furlorians hovering on the other side of the door, all of them watching her flail about in her attempt to command.
Now, alone with her crew and the captive alien they’d befriended, Cabe able to pilot the ship without Vort’s help, she knew they needed to discuss their future plans. She could only imagine it’d be a matter of time before the Wyyvans they’d left behind realized what had happened in the battle sought out their stolen ship. The Furlorians needed to be long gone by then.
“So, what’s the plan?” Torbon asked as if reading her mind.
“We need to find a sanctuary, someplace to go where we can start over, like I was saying before,” she answered, but she still didn’t know how to go about finding such a place.
Before the others could question her vague declaration, she gestured to Lina, thinking back on what Cabe had said moments before. “Figure out how to access the scanners and get us some idea as to where we are and what habitable planets there are nearby. Any history on them would be nice, too. As much as you can find.” Given their complete lack of knowledge, anything would help. “We need reliable intel before we can make a reasonable decision.”
Lina grunted an affirmative and went to work, chatting back and forth with S’thlor, calling out symbols and tapping away at the console in an attempt to become comfortable with it.
“What about the Federation S’thlor told us about?” Cabe asked, reminding her of a conversation they’d had in the few moments between preparing for the Wyyvan return and recovering from said preparations. “Would they be willing to take us in? Seems like a good choice, seeing how much they dislike our scaly lizard companions.” He glanced at S’thlor. “Present company excluded, of course. No offense.”
S’thlor chuckled. “Only a little taken,” he admitted.
Cabe joined the alien in his amusement, the two laughing quietly along with one another.
Taj grunted. She had no idea how to answer Cabe’s question, having spent little time discussing the Federation with S’thlor after his capture. They’d had other priorities, like preparing for the ground invasion of their planet that never happened. She’d spoken with Cabe about it more than she had S’thlor.
Still, it made sense that the enemy of their enemy could be an ally, but what did she know about the Federation and its mysterious leader, Bethany Anne, who Vort and his people hated and feared so much? Would she and her people be a friend or another enemy to contend with?
“S’thlor?” she asked.
“If you’re asking me if they’ll befriend you, I truthfully have no idea,” he admitted. “We Wyyvans have been at war with them since the Federation stumbled upon and invaded our space, the circumstances of which being barbarous and savage as recounted by Command propaganda.
“My people aren’t the most forgiving of folks, as I’ve said before, so my entire career, short as it’s been, has been spent listening to stories about the evils of humans and their ilk. Nothing I know of them is good, and many of my fellow soldiers have died at their hands in our various skirmishes. They are a powerful force with no love for those who oppose them.”
“Which means they’re probably our best bet,” Torbon said. “Anyone so despised by your people has to be on the right side in the grand scheme of things.”
While his statement was tainted by more than a bit of wishful thinking, Taj felt herself agreeing with Torbon, if only in spirit. If nothing else, the Wyyvans appeared to fear the Federation enough to perhaps leave Taj and her people alone were they to find their way to a Federation stronghold. That alone would be enough, she thought. We could make a new start with no fear of anyone hunting us down.
“Can you set us on a course to a Federation planet or stronghold?” she asked S’thlor.
He shook his head. “Command kept us in the dark as far as intelligence went. Can’t have the grunts knowing anything substantive,” he replied. “I can tell you how best to approach a Federation soldier, what weapons to use to try and kill one, what their home world is called—Earth, by the way, strange name that—but we were n
ever given much in the way of details regarding their whereabouts, and I’ve never run across them personally before the drubbing that crashed the Monger on your planet,” he said. “Our job was to fight and die for our superiors when they demanded it, not to ask questions or hold opinions outside of those handed to us by Command.” He shrugged. “In that respect, I was a good soldier.”
“Sounds…sad,” Lina muttered.
S’thlor nodded. “Perhaps, but it was better than a life spent in the Toradium mines, eking out a squalid existence until a shaft collapsed on top of you or you became too infirm to lift a pick or shovel.” A shudder shook the alien’s frame, a repressed memory clearly surfacing. “They simply left the useless to rot and wither away in the mines until death became a prize to be sought. The workers dug up almost as many bones in the process as they did the mineral.”
Taj clasped the alien’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. It was obvious he spoke from experience, someone he knew suffering the cold fate he’d described. Someone close from the sounds of it.
“I’m sorry, S’thlor,” she told him.
He drew in a slow, deep breath and nodded, clearly repressing the memory once again. “Such is the way of life for my people. At least those with no great lineage or financial inheritance to lean upon.” S’thlor straightened and lifted his chin. “But all that is behind me now,” he said, forcing a halfhearted smile. “And though I cannot direct you to the Federation or their holdings on Earth, or elsewhere for that matter, I can set us on a course toward where they are rumored to have first appeared in Wyyvan space.
“Perhaps that will lead us to their doorstep, or at least somewhere that might provide us with better information, though I fear you might well be exchanging one enemy for another given their violent reaction to my people. He shrugged. “Still, what do we have to lose? We all die eventually.”