Unexpected Demon

by Layla Stone

  W & T (83): 4 Yunkin, 22 Bolark, 8 Grach, 2 Hetten, 47 Federation Cyborgs

  Inside the galleon, six male Yunkins first appeared on the telecommunicator. They waited expressionless until Vivra introduced herself, asked for their names, and had them confirm their identities through retinal scan. Once they did, the side of the transporter opened, and all six males walked out. The door slid shut again, and the Yunkins walked up to Vivra and Pax, saluting as they did.

  “There is no one to show you to your quarters, we are short-staffed. Exit the portside door and pick up your Minky. On the Minky pads, you will find your authorization codes, cabin numbers, and a ship map.”

  “Yes, sir,” all six said and moved toward the port exit.

  Pax’s attention found its way to the farthest Minky screen that was not a two-way video but a one-way. He heard a voice calling out oncoming crew members’ names one by one. Following the voices, Pax watched a group of cyborgs, led by a female cyborg standing next to a young Grach. Young as in he was probably fresh out of the academy. In front of the cyborgs was a group of four male Bolarks.

  The female cyborg stood a half step in front of the young male, almost in a protective way. “Leave him alone, you green, scaly tarq.”

  “I didn’t know machines knew how to cuss. What a waste in programming,” one of the Bolarks said back.

  The female cyborg with two cybernetic arms said, “At least, I’m not a spitless Bolark, who’s been demoted three times.”

  The Bolark in question cursed at the female cyborg.

  She added, “Didn’t think I would know about that, huh? Well, you should check your Bolark buddies better. You’re all backstabbers.”

  Backstabbers. That’s everything Pax had seen over and over within the race. He didn’t want a team that divided itself. He wanted a cohesive unit. And knowing that these Bolarks were the trash of the Federation, he didn’t want them at all. The loss would be a hit to his numbers, but he needed to trust his crew to do what they were supposed to in order to get the job done.

  Decision made to cut them from his crew, he spun on his heels and walked right back up to Vivra, then hooked his hand on her upper arm and leaned down to her ear, feeling her flinch as if she were forcing herself to endure his closeness. “Cut the Bolarks. I don’t want them on my crew.”

  Vivra was a Bolark, too, and he expected to see anger or disappointment at his unexplained order. Instead, she pulled her head farther to the side and away from him as though he repelled her. He watched her bring up a new list and do a search for Bolarks then decline all of their transfers. Once she’d finished making the notes as he observed, she said, “Done. Now, let go of me.”

  He did, but he didn’t step back.

  That’s when her green nose flared. In a hushed whisper, she said, “For someone who’s prejudiced against Bolarks, you’re two strokes away from busting in your pants.” Then she lifted her chin, side-stepped him, and returned to the line of Terrans ready to be checked in.

  Pax wasn’t fond of how much she now resented his touch. He decided to ignore her words on the grounds that he didn’t like them. “I’ve been known to make exceptions.” Refusing to give her space, he stood a few steps behind her, watching her speak to the Terrans as they checked in.

  “I’m not the exception. I’m the rule.”

  If this were a year ago, he would have accepted them and told himself that it was just the way the Federation was. Today, though, he wasn’t putting up with any of it. It was his crew, and he was doing it his way. And he would defend his choice to anyone who challenged it.

  The first Bolark stepped up to Vivra and called out his name. “Officer Sol, checking in.”

  Without even looking at her pad, Vivra said, “I’m sorry, Sol, your transfer has been denied. Please return to your seat to be transported back to your previous assignment.”

  The Bolark’s shoulders fell as if something inside him had just cracked. He looked smaller somehow. His green face lightened to a light, yellowish white. Not a good color for him.

  “I don’t understand.” His words were soft, not angry or petulant, just…scared.

  Pax had not seen this male eye-to-eye so he couldn’t get a demon instinct off the Bolark. But Pax knew when he saw fear, an emotion so deep that it suffocated the blood with terror. He had seen it over and over on the faces of the males before every fight, each one terrified that they would die in the arena. Each one…correct.

  The same terrified look was on this male’s face now. Something was wrong about the situation. Why would someone be so terrified to be denied a transfer?

  One side of Pax’s mind told him that it was justice. But that side was overshadowed by the one that urged him to let Sol stay.

  “Me either, Sol, but that’s what it says on the order, and you have to return to the galleon,” Vivra said with a touch of warmth. It wasn’t pity. It was as if she were sympathizing with him. Comforting him. Pax hated himself more. First, because he might be wrong, and he hated being wrong. And secondly, because he wanted to know what Sol was so afraid of.

  The next Bolark stepped up with a condescending smirk. “Good call on Sol. He’s not cut out for hand-to-hand combat.”

  Vivra didn’t acknowledge the transfer’s comment. “Name?”

  The Bolark pursed his lips before answering. “Haak.”

  “Haak.” She touched her pad and made a note before saying, “Your transfer has been denied. Please return to your seat where you’ll be returned to your previous assignment.”

  Haak snarled. “What? No, it’s not. My previous commander put me up for this transfer with a letter of recommendation. Check again.”

  Vivra didn’t.

  “The transfer has been denied. Return to your seat.”

  “No! I want to talk to the commander, right now.”

  Pax thought that she might turn around and point at him. Let him deal with the chaos that he was causing. He wouldn’t have blamed her. Mentally, he prepared for it.

  “The commander does not make mistakes. You will not persuade him to accept you.” Vivra slowly eyed the man up and down. “Especially as someone with an inflated sense of importance.”

  Pax sucked in a small breath. A bit of tightness eased in his chest.

  The Bolark pulled up a Minky pad. “Let me make a quick call. I’m sure you’ll be changing your attitude in three seconds.”

  Pax pushed his shoulders back, unable to stand another second of the male’s disrespect. He took a step closer to the screen, making sure his rank was clearly seen, and said, “Did she not tell you to go back to your seat? I didn’t hear her stutter. Did you?”

  Haak looked at Pax’s rank and then hers.

  “You’ll pay for this. I know all the admirals on the council, and they will help me end your careers.” Haak turned and stomped back to the other side of the galleon, talking to someone on his Minky pad as he did.

  Leaving her side was impossible after that. Pax was still in awe of Vivra’s professionalism. Her cool and calm approach to letting each Bolark know that they wouldn’t be joining the crew.

  Conflicting emotions warred inside him. Sol’s face wouldn’t leave his mind, and he was already itching to go into the galleon and retrieve the male. He couldn’t seem to make himself depart, however. Not to mention, Haak would be an issue.

  Pax rarely doubted himself. But getting Sol might be a mistake. He didn’t detect any loyalty in the male, just fear.

  Pax wasn’t sure if he could trust the Bolark, or if he would be an asset to his team, but maybe he could find someplace for the transfer. Somewhere the male would prosper.

  That thought made Pax feel better.

  All the Bolarks had passed, Hettens, Grach and the single Krant had finished up, too. Next up were the cyborgs. There were a lot of them. Forty-seven were his, one was going to hydroponics. The first one in line was the female who had protected the young Yunkin earlier.

  Her face w
as angular with strong lines, her thick hair pulled tightly into a bun at the back of her head. Tall, slight shoulders made her look like a perfectly proportioned female, but her face and expression were stone-cold, and she looked like a metal-enhanced assassin in a Federation white coat.

  Both of her arms were metal. Her face was unblemished except for the numbers under her eyelids that marked her as an official cyborg.

  Pax had never been with a cyborg before. And even while faced by this stunning female, he had no physical reaction to her. Vivra was his obsession. He craved her still, even now when she was clearly pissed at him.

  Vivra scanned the female in front of her before saying, “Name?”

  “My name is Shady.” Shady scanned Vivra and said, “Your boots are not Federation-approved.”

  Vivra’s smooth, yellow-and-gold skin began to darken. It only lasted a second before she responded, “I’m not seeing your name. Hmm. And your transfer was approved?”

  The cyborg, not missing a beat, said, “Maybe you spelled it wrong. Would you like me to write it down?”

  Pax felt a conflict of emotions. Amusement at Shady’s defiance, and then concern because Vivra didn’t seem to like the cyborg. Being that Viv had more of his loyalty, it created a small but hilarious issue.

  Vivra responded, “Oh, here you are, looks like someone didn’t fill out their transfer papers correctly. It says here that you’re Other, not classified instead of cyborg. I’ve made the correction. You may proceed to your berthing room.”

  Before Pax could turn back to Vivra, he heard someone clearing their throat next to him. He spun and found Sci looking at him with a furrowed brow. “Can I speak to you?” Sci pointed a few feet away.

  Moving to a safer distance, Pax asked, “What is it?”

  “Where do I start?” Sci said, rubbing his forehead. “No one has a cerebral blocker on, and it’s been a long time since I’ve had so many of minds in my vicinity with no effort to keep their thoughts in order.”

  “Is Ansel putting blockers on the new transfers?”

  Sci eyed him. “Not at the moment. He’s preparing an isolated lab. But he knows about the issue.”

  Now, Pax rubbed his head. “I can send the new recruits to report to medical. No harm, no foul.”

  “Big harm. Big foul, actually. Several new transfers saw me when they first arrived. They recognized my race and tried to…subdue me.”

  No. Damnit. “Rannn will need to send out a ship-wide announcement of your place on this crew.”

  “He already did.”

  Pax frowned. “Then what are you doing down here?”

  Sci jerked his chin towards the galleon. “Sol needs to stay here. As in, he will kill himself on the way back to his previous assignment if we don’t keep him. Plus, he’s actually a good worker.”

  Pax wanted to ask Sci to explain everything he knew about Sol, but he thought it might be an invasion of privacy. Besides, Pax was pleased to have a reason on top of his own feelings to retrieve the Bolark. “Let’s go, then.”

  Sci narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you going to ask why he will kill himself?”

  “Nope. And you’re going to keep that to yourself.”

  Sci blinked.

  “Unless you’ve already told someone.”

  “I haven’t. And I had no intention of telling you. I just assumed we would have to argue it out.”

  Pax shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to argue about something trivial later to make sure we meet our quota.”

  Sci didn’t respond.

  Pax turned towards the Minky screens and heard Sci’s steps beside him. Pax punched in a direct line, pulled up Sol’s number, and pinged him. When the call connected, he told him to report to another telecommunicator at the rear of the ship where Pax stood waiting.

  Five minutes later, Sol appeared, still looking sickly pale for a Bolark, his dark hair overlong and falling forward. Pax stood, just staring at the male, waiting for him to look into the screen instead of at the floor.

  The Bolark only lifted his head for a few seconds when Pax didn’t talk. Green eyes with reddish lids peered up at him.

  “Sol.”

  “Yes?” Sol swallowed hard.

  “Grab your stuff. You’re coming with me.”

  Sol didn’t move. His eyes went wide, fear clearly soaking in, his face turning an even uglier shade of yellow. His reaction was the exact opposite of what Pax had hoped for. Thinking quickly, he pulled Sci to his side and said, “Do you know who this is?”

  Sol flicked his eyes to the right for a few seconds then they moved back at Pax. “No.”

  Sci spoke up next. “You suck at this, Pax.”

  “I was going for an epic moment of saving the day,” Pax joked.

  “Well, you’re making it worse. The male thinks you know his previous commander, and he thinks you’re about to take advantage of his specialized skills.”

  “Advantage?” Pax narrowed his eyes at Sci then moved his gaze back to Sol. “Skills? As in you’re a genius?”

  Sol swallowed, but his eyes shot to Sci. Pax wondered if there was more to it, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t want Sol thinking he was a scumbag. So, he told the male, “I didn’t join the Federation to take advantage of nerdy males.”

  Sol’s gaze were back on him now, but something dark and foreboding was in those eyes.

  “Why did you join?” Pax asked.

  “I was told to,” Sol answered.

  “And you set your sights on weapons and tactical response?”

  Sol shook his head first. “Communications.”

  Pax crossed his arms. Communication was not his area, and he had no authority to accept Sol and then demand that Clalls take him into his division. But, having a communications crew member in his unit could be something that he could take advantage of. Especially since Pax was supposed to be on the bridge during the mission. But, if he could switch himself out for Sol, it could be a win-win.

  “That’s excellent. How many years of experience do you have in that field?”

  “Less than three.”

  Oh. That wouldn’t do.

  Sci cleared his throat. “He was transferred around from ship to ship. He had experience in almost every position at the officers’ level. He has trouble making friends. Basically, he prefers to be alone and hates talking to people.”

  Pax didn’t mean to say it out loud, but it came out anyway. “Considering this is a ghost ship, he’ll have more trouble finding someone to talk to.”

  “He has a thick personal file of corrective action plans,” Sci countered. “He’s skilled in everything. He’s going to be one of your best assets. You just have to remember he works best alone without someone questioning everything he does.”

  “I didn’t know Cerebrals were precognitive, too.”

  Sci ignored his comment. To Sol, he said, “You should exit the back door now. The others are starting to wonder what we’re talking about. If you want to avoid a physical altercation, then we need to leave now.”

  Sol didn’t hesitate. He rushed from the screen and, seconds later, the back door slid open, and the Bolark walked out. No transfer bags.

  The male was starting fresh.

  A memory of being back in the Angny caves slammed into Pax. The appearance of the females being dragged around by chains. The dark and pained look in their eyes. The knowledge of what was going to happen to them without any way to stop it.

  Sol had those eyes. The male was being physically abused. At the hands of his fellow crew members. Or worse, by those with higher ranks. That knowledge curled Pax’s stomach. The male’s green skin might as well have turned copper-red, because, from this point forward, Sol was under Pax’s protection, forever a crew member to look after.

  Finding Sci and Sol speaking to each other in hushed whispers, Pax looked for Vivra to update her about Sol, but she wasn’t around. Deciding to figure that out later, he pulled out his Minky pad to
send a message to Rannn.

  Talked to Sci. You have time for a chat?

  Rannn did not respond, but Pax ushered both Sol and Sci to the elevator and punched in the captain’s level nine. The captain finally responded to Pax’s message as they boarded the car.

  I don’t have time for a crap. These transfers are turning into a nightmare.

  Pax put away his Minky pad and waited until the elevator stopped. He led Sol and Sci out and into the conference room. As soon as the door shut behind the two, he lifted both arms and spread them wide on both sides of him. “Your prayers have been answered, my captain. I’m here to fix your nightmare.”

  Rannn stood at the Minky table, a video call in session with Admiral Orin. Orin had stopped talking when Pax announced himself. The pause lasted two seconds, then he told Rannn, “I’ll do you a favor and not call you dishonorable for neglecting to notify your transfers there was a Cerebral on board, but I’d strongly recommend you resolve the issue and acknowledge the error in your daily log.”

  Rannn’s lips were pinched tightly. “This transmission is over.” He touched the screen and ended the video call.

  Rannn didn’t greet Pax, Sol, or Sci.

  Pax pointed at Sol. “This is my new crewmate, Sol. He was hired for W&T, but he has a background in communications so…I decided that he will take the weapons and tactical position on the bridge when we touch down on Brica. You good with that?”

  Sol’s shoulders looked stiff as he turned his head down slightly and respectfully.

  Rannn grunted. To Sci, he said, “Can we trust him?”

  Sol winced, but Pax was sure that he was the only one paying close enough attention to see it.

  “He’s trustworthy.”

  It seemed that was all Rannn needed. He touched his Minky table and pulled up the projection to send a message to Vivra that she should report to the conference room immediately.

  Rannn closed the table’s hologram and mumbled, “Trust and honor are about to be in short supply.”

  Pax had spent time with Rannn. Had seen him at the point in his life when the captain was sure he’d lose everything. He’d watched Rannn as crew member after crew member died. Pax had learned the male’s signs of stress, the rising of his shoulders and the tension in his jaw.