“You didn't even try it,” Cidele called back as the two left.
The two walked out into the empty streets of Gathow, towards the ship-bay where Sedom believed Zion was calling from. She was so frustrated with Garric and Cidele's argument that she forgot to ask where he was calling from and she was too full of pride to call him back.
Thankfully, she was correct. When they arrived in the ship bay, Zion and his two friends were waiting. Above them, several orbs hovered in formation, all of them beaming red and on alert.
“Sortec, danger,” called one of the orbs.
She held up her hand, causing the orbs to back away.
The first man she was certain was Qilo, a muscular Dormin male with cropped black hair and wide-set silver eyes. The second man instantly caused Sedom alarm, forcing her hand to her pistol. He was an equally tall, dark-skinned Clove man. His head was shaved bald except for an area of hair near the upper back of his head. From that area, he had grown his hair long and tied it into a four-foot-long braid. What bothered her most were his Marisheio Empire tattoos which cover his arms, back, neck and scalp.
“Zion!” Sedom called out. “What's with the Marisheio?” she called in his language.
“Calm yourself, Chadon. This is Rosanheer Torreh. We’re old friends,” Zion introduced.
Rosanheer offered his palm to Sedom, first moving aside his rifle, which was wrapped around his shoulder. “Chadon, a pleasure to serve you,” he returned, his words forced from his lips as if he was trying too hard.
Sedom accepted his handshake, but her eyes remained on Zion as if to ask if he were mental, allowing a Marisheio access to Gathow.
Zion still could pick up on her anxiety without reading her. “Rosanheer and I also go way back. He's served the Underground now for how long?”
“Four years,” Rosanheer grumbled back as if he didn’t care much for working for the Underground. “I have no love for the Empire… any Empire, not just the Marisheio.”
“You have no problem killing Marisheio?” she asked bluntly.
“No Chadon. I do it all the time. I killed a group of them a few days ago near Ortees. They wouldn’t take no for an answer,” he smiled back with a sly grin.
“Makes me wonder what the question was.” Sedom nodded slowly, her tongue flicking at her back tooth as she thought. “You were the cause of all the explosions?” she questioned.
Rosanheer shrugged. “Hey, I warned them to leave me alone. But they don’t care much for traitors and one thing led to another,” he admitted, shrugging as he spoke.
“You destroyed the city of Ortees?” Sedom asked.
“Not entirely. And they were going to destroy it anyways. Why not take a few of them down in the process?” he admitted.
Sedom pointed at Rosanheer with a delighted smirk on her lips. “I like him already. He’s just crazy enough to make me happy,” she complimented.
“And,” Zion broke in, motioning to Qilo, “Qilo.”
Sedom shook his hand. “The man Zion swears is worth the money,” she mentioned.
Qilo grinned. “Speaking of that--”
Zion held up the two stones Sedom had given him and handed him one. “I’ll give you the second stone after the jobs finished.”
Qilo swiped the stone from Zion's hand. “We have a deal. When do we leave?”
“In the morning. Zion will find a place for you to sleep tonight,” Sedom offered.
“Um, Sortec,” Zion said as he pointed to the orbs.
“Oh,” she waved one of the orbs down. “Grant Qilo and…” she paused, turning back to Rosanheer.
“Rosanheer,” he returned.
“Rosanheer level two access,” she ordered to the orb. She searched the ship bay, noticing a small fighter ship docked near the falls. “Your ship is fine there, for now,” she offered, waving to the massive ship bay. “In the future, we’ll find a space for it.”
The two men agreed and then followed Zion. Rosanheer paused for a moment to size Garric up. The two men’s eyes locked on each other, ending with Rosanheer’s chuckles. He said something to Garric that Sedom, for the first time, did not understand. He finished the conversation by spitting at Garric’s feet and continued after Zion.
Sedom returned to Garric, her eyes shining with questions.
Garric took a deep breath, shaking away the man's comment. “Better a traitor than a pet,” he translated. “If there were ever a day to kill myself--” he shuddered.
Sedom wrapped her arm around Garric's shoulders, leading him out of the ship-bay. “I told you it would be hard.”
“I know it's getting to me today. I'll survive.” He grinned back. “I'll have your place cleaned and organized by the time you return. I'd wish you good luck, but I'm not sure that's appropriate,” he mentioned. “That and I already know you don't need it.”
“Thanks. This time, I might need all the luck I can get.”
An unfamiliar voice cleared his throat, forcing Sedom to spin around. A man, only slightly taller than her, stood behind them. He was dressed in common clothing, the fabric of his yellow sleeves bunched as he raised his hands to show his peaceful intentions. His hair and beard were white with flakes of black scattered about. His chin-length hair seemed to connect flawlessly to his tidy beard. Thick eyelids served as frames, outlining his piercing blue eyes.
“Sorry to interrupt, but Noral said I need to check in with you. Something about making sure not to upset the orbs,” the man stated. He pointed to the orbs that circled him twenty feet above.
Sedom blinked several times, her mind cramping from thinking so hard. She had been privy to so many conversations the past two days she simply couldn’t recall his name.
“Hasapoi Peramkil,” Garric mentioned low, having noticed her frustration.
“Ah,” she said loudly, not meaning to. The sudden relief of her mind-cramp forced her embarrassing outburst. “Oh yes, the mind doc,” Sedom recalled offering the man her hand. “I have a lot going on at the moment. I meant to speak with you earlier. It’s good to have you here.”
The man shook Sedom's hand, grinning enough to see beneath his beard. His eyes glazed and his lips began to quiver. “Good... good to be invited.” He took a deep, shuddering breath to center himself. “It’s a wonderful city you have here. I feel honored,” he complimented.
Sedom’s skin flushed as her breath quickened. Suddenly, the image of her last protector, Iya Nercon, entered her thoughts. It was if she could see the woman directly in front of her again, kneeling in the street just before a Marisheio shot her in the back of the head.
She gasped, her eyes widening with her panic. As he released her hand, the image of Nercon faded, allowing her to breathe again.
“Sortec?” Garric asked with concern as he grabbed her shoulder to hold her upright.
“Um… it will be once we've cleared the dust off.” Sedom paused, shaking off the thought. A frown crept across her lips when she noticed Hasapoi examining Garric. “It's not what you think.”
He turned back to Sedom, his heated, piercing eyes drilling into her. “That you keep a Clove as a slave? What should I think? I didn't agree…” he spoke in protest.
“Sir,” Garric spoke up. “Sir, I chose this. It was either this or to be executed…” he began, his words causing Hasapoi’s eyes to widen with rage. “By my own people, Sir. Sortec offered me my freedom, but I know I’d have to hide for the rest of my life. I saw a unique opportunity here in Gathow and I took it. I'm quite satisfied with the price,” he said, pointing to his collar.
Hasapoi's eyes shimmered as he attempted to read Garric's thoughts. “Very well,” he said slowly. “It was… good to finally meet you, Chadon. If you ever need my assistance--”
Sedom patted the man's shoulder moving him onward down the street. “Take care of my people and I'll make sure you're adequately compensated. Just…” she paused forcing the man to turn to her. “Don't scan me again, understand? It wouldn’t be good for either of us,” she spoke low and wit
h a hint of her authority.
“Understood. Again…” he paused to glance at Garric, “thank you, Chadon.”
Garric continued to follow Sedom down the street, taking a moment to look back at Hasapoi as he walked towards the infirmary. “You can tell he scanned you?” he asked low to Sedom.
Her head bobbed slowly on her shoulders. All she could think of was what memory Hasapoi found in her mind. “I noticed he flinched when he shook my hand. Typically empaths can't read my thoughts. I guess he can with physical contact… something I’ll have to keep in mind for the future.” She paused, her thoughts turning back to Garric. “You're free to speak with him if you like. It might help you sleep at night. Your collar warned me that you haven’t been sleeping much at all. It’s not good for your health.”
He remained silent for a moment and then sniffed hard as if to hold back his sorrowful emotions. “I'm a traitor, a prisoner of my enemy, and I'm responsible for the deaths of my family and countless others. You tell me why I should be allowed to sleep at night?” he asked in earnest. “The worst thing is wearing this collar. I can't end my life. It won't let me and there are days I desperately wish I could.”
His words shot through her like spikes of ice. She forced Garric to turn to her and as he did she softly wrapped her hand to his forehead. His eyes grew distant, as if he were in a trance.
“Here's a direct order, go to my quarters and take a bottle of wine. Go home, drink and relax. You're just having a bad day. Think of nothing more except relaxing. We’ll start fresh tomorrow,” she said softly, slowly removing her hand from his forehead.
Garric nodded complacently. “Yes, Chadon. Wine, home, and I’ll relax. I will do as you request.” He left, walking towards her quarters to fulfill her command.
She remained motionless in the middle of the street, staring up at the ceiling where six orbs hovered, guarding her. Her body felt numb, her toes tingling as her shoes grew heavy, squeezing her feet. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think if only for a moment.
Her ears focused on one simple sound, but she couldn’t tell what the sound was. Breathing? Was it her breath? She exhaled, having realized she was holding her breath. Moments later the sound was followed by a light footstep, heavy on the first toe and scraping as the heel fell to the ground. She slowly removed her pistol, knowing full well who it was. Regardless, she felt the need to make a statement.
“I might not be empathic, but I know when I'm being watched,” she called out. “And I might add it’s not safe for you.”
Hasapoi stepped from the shadows of an alleyway. A smirk appeared on his thin lips as he raised his hands. “You're good. Typically, people can't tell I'm near. Or maybe I’m losing my touch? Regardless the reason, I wanted to make sure you were telling me the truth about Garric. I don’t approve of slavery, never have.”
Sedom motioned for the doctor to follow her as she holstered her pistol. At least they saw eye-to-eye on one matter. “Trust me, this isn't my choice. The two of us have a history. Seeing him here is a constant reminder of everything I lost. But it also reminds me what I'm working towards.”
“Which is?” Hasapoi questioned.
She turned to him, meeting his eyes. “The end of slavery, for one. The end of a lot of things and the beginning of a lot more.” She turned away, her eyes peering towards the tunnels. “It’s a long road ahead of me, though. First, I must fill this city with like-minded people.”
“Your heart is kind and your mind is clear about its task. I have no doubt you’ll succeed,” Hasapoi complemented.
“It’s kind of you to say. Are you hungry?” she asked. The man nodded. She led him to the domed-roof cafeteria. “When I return in a few days I'll have the food replicators running at full power. I have another task I must contend with first. I hear Dranium is handy with computers. Hopefully, he'll be willing to help out around here. I know Lolum has him working on the com relay. The stupid thing keeps shorting.”
He spun in front of Sedom to open the cafeteria door. “I'll see what I can do. Your friend has been through quite an ordeal.” He paused, peering through the open cafeteria door towards the direction of Qilo. His face paled as he watched Qilo for a moment. “Forgive me, Chadon, but I'm suddenly not hungry. I'll talk with you another time.”
His rather quick departure caused Sedom to question his urgency. She turned back to the cafeteria, noticing Qilo inside. She continued further inside, watching Cidele and Qilo eating late meal together. Cidele was wearing a rather low-cut pink sweater. From the doorway, Sedom could see her friend’s perky breasts nearly popping out from her sweater. Sedom’s hand automatically went to her aching forehead, forcing back her frustrations from her friend.
“That didn't take you any time. They've been here what, less than an hour? Something tells me you have a thing for Dormins,” Sedom called in Cidele's native language of Caal.
Cidele returned Sedom’s statement with a drop-dead glare. She stood from the table in a huff. “I was being hospitable. It’s not every day we have attractive guests,” she barked back low.
“Be hospitable somewhere else. We have business to tend to,” Sedom warned, motioning for her to leave. The last thing she wanted was to see her friend hurt by a one night stand.
Cidele caressed Qilo's shoulder. “I have much to do. Have a safe trip,” she said, then turned to Sedom with an icy stare. Sedom motioned for Cidele to leave with a jerky neck roll.
With her friend out of the way, Sedom took a seat next to Qilo. “Well,” she started, “enjoying the hospitality?”
“You should know, I know Caal,” Qilo began. He took a sip of his drink, then sat back. “You don’t meet too many kind females out here,” he mentioned with a grin.
Sedom chuckled under her breath. “My friend has much to learn. She's lonely and any available, attractive man makes her swoon.”
“Attractive?” Qilo questioned, amused by her choice of words.
Sedom’s cheeks balled up against her eyes, her lips thinned. “Let me rephrase that, attractive to her, not to me. To me, you're a pistol with a brain. At least, I hope you have a brain or I would have wasted a hell of a lot of money,” Sedom clarified.
Qilo chuckled. He ran his fingers through his cropped, raven-colored hair. “Good to hear, I think. She's a sweet girl. Not my type, but sweet. I don’t care much for sweet girls. They get hurt too easily. Good food,” he mentioned, raising his fork-full of rassis roots. “So, what’s the plan?”
Sedom stared at him, attempting to figure him out. He was quite muscular about the arms and chest, much like Zion and obviously Dormin. He wore a black tank top which showcased several tattoos over his arms. Most of the tattoos were of Rook religious symbols, something which she found rather interesting considering the Rook were Mandicien.
She could tell her staring was making him uneasy and she secretly enjoyed it. He looked up at her with bright yellow eyes, unsure if he was going to have to defend himself.
“Are the rumors about you true?” he asked.
Sedom eased back in her chair, wrapping her arms around her chest. “Depending on which one’s you’re talking about,” she admitted. She was always interested in hearing what new rumors were circulating around about her.
“So you breathe fire and fade away like smoke?” he asked, half-serious and half-joking. Sedom stared blankly at him, not bothering to answer. “Ever skin a man before?” he asked, seeing if he could shock her.
Is he seriously asking me this? “Yes, I have. I kept the skin of the Marisheio cor’e’dal that was responsible for killing my family. I took my time cutting away every muscle, every tendon so I could keep his skin perfect. He only screamed for about an hour before he bled out. The skin is in my quarters if you would like to see it. I was thinking about hanging it up on my wall, but many here have disapproved. Instead, I’ve sewn it into a cover for my punching bag. How about you? Done much skinning, have you?”
Qilo turned his eyes to Sedom, blinking uneasily. “Th
e rumors about the Harp are true. You admit to being the devil-bitch everyone’s talking about?”
Sedom grinned wildly. “Now what would make you think that?”
Qilo chuckled uneasily. “I see.” His eyes turned back to his food. “And I thought I was going to have to babysit,” he half-joked.
Sedom glared at Qilo. “I'm not sure how to take that.”
Qilo smirked, holding back his chuckles. “With my sincerest admiration, Chadon. You have the heart of a warrior and the nerve of a psychopath; both which I admire greatly. You're going to be an interesting person to work for.”
FOUR
Early the next morning, Sedom was already in the main compound packing the gear for their trip. The men arrived dressed in black uniforms and full body armor. Sedom rose from the bags as Zion tossed her a weapon-proof vest.
“Found them on level four along with the uniforms. I thought you might want one yourself.” He held up a uniform covered in a thick plastic coating.
Sedom grabbed it, examining the uniform. “Good, find. Decide what we need. I'll be back.” She held up the uniform, motioning that she was going to change.
“How many levels are there?” Rosanheer questioned.
Zion knelt to one of the bags Sedom was packing. “So far I've found seven. Sedom still has several levels blocked by the orbs. She's secretive about her city.”
“And her ships?” Qilo mentioned. “Heard a rumor they have a cloaked ship docked somewhere nearby. I would love to get my hands on that. Call it an old pilot's dream.”
“I haven’t heard about that one yet.” Zion said as he handed a bag to Rosanheer. “I wouldn't mention it to her either. Sortec gets moody when she hears talk of her people.” He pulled a long-nosed pistol from the pack. “I have to admit, she does have a nice arsenal.”
“I'll say. How'd you get messed up with her?” Rosanheer asked, musing over his own weapons. He removed three pistols hiding them in his sock, belt and in a holster under his arm.
“Just lucky I guess,” Zion joked, hoping that his friends would take the hint and drop it. Rosanheer shook his head slowly, telling Zion he wasn’t going to get away so easily. “I was hired to protect the Braum's sister, Asa while she was here looking for Sortec. Our group was caught up in a dispute with the locals and the Marisheio. Someone happened to recognize Asa and our group was arrested. Sortec was in town at the right time, saved our lives. Since then, I serve her.”
The Last Narkoy: Gathow: Book 2 Page 4