Triymin had to stifle a cry of alarm at the sight of an unconscious Regaari being carried by the larger, more-mechanical alien, slung across a pair of arms like Triymin’s own sack of clothing. Blood decorated his muzzle, the source of the scent that had alarmed the former slave.
“Regaari!” Ayma exclaimed on her behalf, her eyes wide. “What have you done?” she spat at the Corti.
“He’s alive, just unconscious. Believe it or not, I have no desire to harm you or him. All I require is that you behave yourselves.”
“Is this a hijacking? Are you stealing our ship?”
“Not at all! Granted, the Dominion diplomatic corps requisition very fine long-range shuttles… very well-built and comfortable. But they lack the extra features I prefer. No, I’m happy with my own ship.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I wish to take your passenger off your… Gaoians have paws, not hands, correct? Yes, paws. Give her to me and we’ll leave.”
“What? Passenger? What passenger?”
“Oh, spare me. The human. Though that raises a good question.” The Corti scowled and raised his pistol back up to point between Ayma’s eyes. “Where is the other female? The Gaoian female you left with at the beginning of the shift?”
Triymin drew a breath, waiting for Ayma to order her to come out. Instead the Mother flattened her ears against her skull and fixed the Corti with a murderous look. “I left her at the station security station. She’s a refugee, and needs to return to Gao. He,” she gestured at the limp Regaari, “was going to send a message to have them pick her up.”
“Really?” The Corti’s look was dubious, although Triymin didn’t know exactly how to read his species’ expressions. “Very well. Then all you have to do is call out the human, and we’ll be on our way.”
“The only being inside that shuttle is my clan-sister, and I will do no such thing.”
“Fine,” the Corti conceded, not even bothering to argue or threaten. “Then you will stand there and be quiet. Muntib, hold her.”
The same Locayl who held Regaari stepped forward, his fleshy hand closing around Ayma’s arm while his free artificial one grasped her shoulder. It squeezed tightly, making the Mother yelp in pain as he dragged her backwards, away from the shuttle. The Corti stepped forward and picked up the dropped tablet, tapping a button and opening the link Ayma had tried to establish.
He spoke clearly into the tablet. “Attention occupant of this vessel: please respond.”
He had to repeat the message twice, but finally a feminine voice replied in accented Gaori, echoing through the bay. “What… Ayma? Who is this? What are you doing with Ayma’s tablet?”
He smirked, though none of the non-Corti likely recognized the expression. “My name, as it happens, is Astim. I found this tablet just outside your ship, where I’m standing at this very moment. You should come out to fetch it.”
There was a pause before Xiù responded. “You’ve stolen my Sister’s tablet! I’m not coming out to speak with a thief! Put the tablet down and go away, or I’ll call the station security to come get you!”
“That would be unwise. After all, you don’t want them to find a human here, do you? They’ll put you off the station. And perhaps without a ship.”
“What?”
“Oh yes, I know what you are. I must commend your Gaori – there’s so few sapients who bother to learn foreign languages in the galaxy today. Too much reliance on translators. But I suppose a human has no choice.”
“You’re insane. Get out of our berth!”
The Corti, Astim, smiled… and the expression reminded Triymin far too much of the Masters. Her paws clenched, and her claws slipped out… the egg-head was enjoying himself! “If I leave, I’ll be taking your companions with me,” he purred.
When Xiù responded, her voice rasped with anger. “You leave them alone. You leave them, and then you leave!”
“Come out, and we’ll discuss it,” he declared.
“Don’t, Shoo!” Ayma cried, but her yell changed to a gasp as the Locayl, Muntib, tightened his grasp on her shoulder.
“I’m coming. And any harm you’ve done to them will be repaid.”
The Corti nodded, triumphant; he dropped the tablet back to the decking, and gestured the two mercenaries back toward the rear of the shuttle. They took up a formation that looked ridiculously like a receiving party of a distinguished guest, but there was no mistaking the pain in Ayma’s expression, the weapon in the Corti’s hand, or the strange, tube-like item being held by the second Locayl.
After a moment the rear doors of the shuttle split open, sliding to the side as the ramp lowered itself with a groan. Xiù was striding down it before it had even touched the deck, stepping off even as it clanged against the rough-textured metal flooring. She wore her cloak but the hood was thrown back, her long hair braided and resting against her back. Her bare hands were clenched at her side, and she glared at the three aliens.
“I knew even a human can be reasonable with the right motivation,” Astim said smugly.
“Let. Them. Go.” The words were laced with such feral fury that Triymin wondered how the Corti didn’t cower and obey on the spot… not even the Masters could command so forcefully. However the grey alien just looked pleased.
“I intend to,” he offered. “But I think you’ll understand if I secure you first.”
He gestured, and the mercenary holding the tube-like weapon stepped forward, bringing it up and aiming at Xiù. At the sight of it she she fell back into a fighting stance, her hands rising and her body turning sideways.
“No! Shoo!” Ayma thrashed in the Locayl’s grip. He tightened his hand but the pain no longer mattered to the Mother, who spat and squirmed.
“Hey! Stop that!” He let go of her arm, lifting his natural fist to beat her down, when suddenly Regaari twisted from where he’d been lying “unconscious”. His paw lashed out, claws bared, drawing parallel lines across the merc’s face, just barely missing his eye. Instead of tightening his arms and crushing the suddenly ferocious Gaoian, he dropped him, instinctively cringing and crying out.
“Hold them! Hold them!” Astim shouted.
“Leave them alone!” demanded Xiù. She lurched forward to grapple the two mercs, but Astim had been prepared. He tapped a button on the data tablet mounted on his wrist, and suddenly the gravity plating underneath her quintupled its output. The human crashed to the floor with a pained grunt.
It was chaos; the two Gaoians thrashed against the Locayl holding them, while the second merc looked between his brother and the human, who fought her own weight on the decking, unsure of what he should do. Xiù cursed as she struggled to merely breathe. Astim yelled at everyone. Finally he tapped a few more buttons on his tablet; the huge door to the bay began to slide upward, revealing the dark blackness of space, with only the light buzzing of a kinetic field to hold in the air.
“Throw them out! Get rid of them!”
“No!” Xiù snarled from the floor, the Corti’s command doubling her efforts. She gave up trying to stand, but didn’t give up the fight – after a moment she managed to roll over onto her back. Then with a groan she rolled again, each small movement bringing her to the edge of the gravity field that held her. The door continued its slide upward; beyond were the unblinking lights of countless stars and the broad yellow disc of the gas giant around which the station orbited.
“Shoot her! Forget them, shoot her!” The Corti gestured angrily, a hint of panic in his voice.
The merc holding the tube-like weapon obeyed. He lifted the tube, pointing it at the struggling human.
They were going to shoot Xiù.
Triymin made a small sound of fright which wasn’t heard at all over the melee. Xiù was nearly to the edge of the gravity field, but the weapon was already aimed at her. What could Triymin do? Ayma had told her to stay… ordered her to stay. She couldn’t move! Even if she did, what could she do? She couldn’t fight!
The merc pulled the trigger, and a small dart shot out with a sharp pop of air. His aim was true but he’d failed to compensate for the gravity change… the dart’s path bent sharply at the edge of the field, and the projectile was dashed against the decking mere fingers from Xiù’s head. The merc blinked in surprise, but lifted the weapon to try again, aiming higher.
Triymin was moving before the decision even formed in her mind. Her feet padded against the decking, her arms pumping like how she’d seen Xiù run. She ran faster than she’d ever run before. She had no time to think about the fact that she was disobeying a direct command, even if it hadn’t come from one of the Masters. She only thought about putting herself between the weapon and Xiù-
The gun popped again, and she felt a prick against her chest. The pain was barely worth noticing… she’d never let such minor hurts slow her during her time as a slave. It hit her hard enough to knock her off-balance, and she stumbled and slid onto her side between the merc and his target.
“Triymin!” A voice shouted with fright as she fell, and she was surprised to realize it was Ayma.
The mercenary’s eyes went wide, and he actually jumped back a pace at the surprise interloper. “What! No!” He fumbled with the weapon, bring it back up to shoot again.
Too late. Xiù rolled free of the gravity plating, breathing heavily; her legs thrust up into the air and pinwheeled, lifting her bodily off the ground and onto her feet, a dart striking the deck where she’d been a moment before. Though she must have been exhausted, she swept towards the mercenaries with her teeth bared and snarling in wordless fury. In his panic the alien actually managed to squeeze off two shots in quick succession; she spun, her cloak billowing around her, the fabric catching the darts and throwing them away. Then she was too close, one strong hand closing around the weapon and jerking it away so the next dart tinged uselessly against the distant ceiling.
A pulse blast from the Astim caught her in the back, but it merely knocked her forward a tiny step and redirected her wrath onto him. Her hands moved and the dart gun was torn from the mercenary’s grip; she turned and threw, sending the gun hurling end over end at the alien. It caught him on the side of his overlarge head, and he dropped to the ground like a stone.
The merc Xiù had disarmed swung down at her, but she was already spinning, and the blow glanced off her shoulder. Her arms rose, one hand parrying aside his other arm even as she struck at his torso. Then she was spinning again, dancing away from him to slam a rising foot into his partner.
“Triymin!” Ayma dashed over to Triymin, snatching the dart from where it still stuck out of her chest.
She pulled the fallen Gaoian to her, heedless of the violence happening mere paces away. Regaari slid to his knees next to them, blood still dripping from his muzzle. Ayma showed him the dart and his eyes went wide, his ears flat to his skull. Triymin ignored them, ignored the growing fuzziness of her own body. She wanted to see Xiù move now that she wasn’t trapped!
Wind. Xiù reminded Triymin of wind: twirling low, sweeping high… always in motion, impossible to catch or stop. Watching her move made Triymin remember standing under an open greenish-blue sky, of the breeze gently ruffling her fur. Of bright sun and freedom… long before capture and horror and a death that was never far away and never close enough.
Xiù danced between the two big aliens as easily as the air itself, dodging or swatting aside their increasingly frustrated attempts to hit her, blows that would have crushed another sapient. Her hands were almost always open to trap or parry, but when her fists closed to strike there was always a crack and a grunt or howl of pain.
She made only one mistake, when one of the mercs – the one who had wielded the dart gun – swung too hard and stumbled to one knee as he missed. She caught both the cybernetic arms on one side and twisted them against each other, and the Locayl yelped as he was flipped forward, crashing onto his back with the slap of flesh and crack of polymers. She grunted as she continued to twist, and finally the joints of his arms failed with the sound of crumbling synthetics. The merc howled as feedback made the damage known to his brain.
Focusing on the one left her open to his partner, and even as Xiù let go she was seized from behind. The bigger alien spun her, lifting her by the throat with two of his cybernetic arms. “Don’t hurt my brother!” he roared. He slammed a mechanical fist the size of her head into her belly, drawing an agonized groan.
He went to do it again, but she parried the blow enough that it glanced off her ribs; her leg curled and slammed into him. Although his prosthetics absorbed the blow, enough force rippled through the rest of him to make him cry out. He threw his vicious burden away as he reeled backwards, and Xiù flew through the air to crash against the scaffolding against the wall. The structure crumpled as the dense little creature impacted it, collapsing in a rain of shattering plastics and ringing metal.
Silence filled the hangar briefly. The injured merc rose unsteadily to his knees, both he and his brother staring at the wreckage with fear. The three Gaoians did as well; Triymin could feel Ayma’s worry in the tight grip on her paw – a sensation that seemed to be growing further and further away. She wanted to tell the Mother not to worry… there was no way Xiù could be beaten so easily! But it took all her energy just to keep her eyes open.
Then the pile began to shift.
“Get her! Quick, before she gets loose!”
The more prosthetic brother rushed to obey, but even as he neared the pile, Xiù exploded upward. She leaped toward the exposed wall, her Gaoian cloak billowing around her, her leap suddenly reversing direction as she pushed off with one foot with an impact that rang through the bay. In her hands she held one of the long poles of the scaffolding, and it carved a long, arcing curve as she swung it over her head like a sword at the advancing alien.
He blocked with both pairs of arms, but at the last moment she shifted, and what had been an overhead slash turned into a downward thrust. The end of the pole speared his leg as she landed with all her considerable weight, the metal rod piercing the big alien’s artificial thigh and clanging against the decking. He was thrown to the ground as she tore the pipe free, sending pieces of metal and plastic everywhere. Then she was spinning to meet his brother who hopelessly threw himself against her.
They’d struggled against the human alone. Armed with her impromptu weapon, the fight was all but over. She stayed low to the ground, and they struggled to hit something so much shorter than they – but her pole reached up to them with little difficulty. The one who had shot Triymin made the mistake of bending over to try to grab her, and received the end of the rod through his artificial eye for the trouble. Both mercenaries were soon reduced to shivering, broken wrecks upon the deck, surrounded by the pieces of their own prosthetics.
When Xiù had said she’d fought the Masters and won, Triymin hadn’t believed her… not really. It seemed impossible! But now she believed. Whatever drugs had been in the dart made Triymin’s body feel like lead, but her heart was light. Xiù could beat the Masters… and somewhere there was an entire world of beings just like her! She chittered quietly, feeling truly happy as her eyes drooped. Ayma glanced down at the sound.
“Xiù!” the Mother cried. The human turned, her eyes wide and fearful. She dashed over, leaving the two fallen aliens to quiver on the deck. She dropped her pole and fell to her knees next to the prone form of the young Gaoian.
“Triymin! Triymin? Are you okay?” she asked with a tremble in her voice. Blood leaked from the corner of her mouth, tracing a crimson line down her chin.
“I feel sleepy,” she answered, struggling against a mouth that seemed full of soft cloth.
“It was a sedative,” Regaari said gravely.
“Then… she’ll be okay, right?” Xiù asked, desperation in her voice.
“It was a dosage meant for you,” he replied quietly, his ears folded flat against his skull. “For her… it’s too much.” She stared at him, mouth open, then glanced down; Triymin could see the distress there… human faces were so expressive.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she said comfortingly.
“Oh, Triymin… you shouldn’t have done that,” Xiù said, her eyes watering.
The young female found herself feeling oddly bold, even as her body failed. “Yes, I should,” she said. “I’m a good Sister.” Ayma made an agonized sound.
Xiù lightly ran her hand over the fur on Triymin’s head; she leaned down, pressing her bare cheek against the Gaoian’s, and Triymin could never remember feeling so warm and protected.
As the darkness set in, a thought occurred to her: she was dying, and no one had given her permission to do so. The Master of Masters hadn’t granted her the right, but there was no possible way for him to stop it. Let him try! The humans could defy them. The humans could beat them! The defiant thoughts felt so very satisfying.
“I escaped,” she whispered, and the elation followed her down into the dark.
Ayma keened softly as she watched Triymin slip away. The young Sister’s face was peaceful, relaxing from her last expression of surprise and delight… hardly the emotions one expected from the dying. The young female’s last breath left her with a soft, easy sigh, and then there was nothing – only the sound of the station’s air circulators and the hum of the kinetic field. Across the bay, there was a soft grinding of the Locayls’ broken cybernetics against the decking.
Ayma heard a muffled popping from Xiù’s hand.
One of the human’s hands still held Triymin’s paw as gently as if it was made of spun glass, but the other was clenched into a fist so tight the skin was turned white. She imagined she could hear Xiù’s teeth grinding, and her body seemed to shiver slightly. Not with cold, nor with exhaustion – it was the vibration of an overtaxed engine before it flew apart.
“Shoo?” Ayma said, almost fearfully.
The other female didn’t respond. Instead she stood and began walking toward the fallen Locayl… the one who had wielded the dart gun. She didn’t even pause as she bent over and scooped the pipe back into her hand. Her fingers wrapped around it as she approached the thug with terrible purpose.
He was scrambling away – at least as much as he could, considering his legs and most of his arms lay in pieces around him; one broken natural arm was clutched to his chest while the other clawed impotently at the decking. His lone beady eye was wide with terror as the much smaller and infinitely more dangerous human approached, as unhurried and as unstoppable as the tide. Xiù gripped the pipe in both hands, and her breath hissed between her bared teeth as it rose into the air. Ayma closed her eyes as it arced downward.
“No!”
Her eyes snapped open again at the sound of metal against metal. The other Locayl had somehow managed to jump in between, shielding his brother with a prosthetic arm. The pipe shattered the polymer sheathing of the limb, crushing the actuators inside. Pieces flew everywhere, and even the lightweight metal “bone” of the replacement arm bent from the force of the blow.
Xiù hopped backwards, the pipe – now slightly bent – raised into a guard position. The Locayl didn’t try to attack. Instead he gripped his shattered arm, eyes wide, but didn’t move. “Please don’t kill my brother! Please, human!”
“Your brother? You want me to spare your brother? What of her? Did you spare our Sister? Nǐ méiyǒu quánlì!”
“It’s my fault!” the Locayl slurred. Ayma’s eyes widened as she realized it wasn’t a shoddy translator at fault… the Locayl himself was damaged. “It’s my fault! I was supposed to keep them still! I was supposed to keep them from fighting so that we wouldn’t have to hurt them… I messed up again, I’m always messing up! Kill me, it’s my fault!”
The other’s eyes went wide. “Muntib, no…”
“Please don’t hurt Voyrag. Hurt me, it’s my fault.” Muntib offered his head to Xiù to dispense her justice.
“No!” Instead of scrambling away, Voyrag was trying to pull himself forward using his one intact arm. “Don’t! It was me, human, he’s not smart enough to-”
“No, me!”
“Muntib, shut up! I took the shot, it was me-”
“Shut up! Shut up!” Xiù shrieked. They looked on with fear as she lifted the pipe again with a wordless cry of rage, ready to finish them both.
The end of the pipe wobbled in the air. Every pair of eyes watched, waiting for it to descend, and it dipped in mid-air as if about to do so. Then it dropped slowly to ring against the decking as the other end slipped from limp fingers to clatter onto the ground. Xiù’s hands rose to cover her face, and from behind Ayma could see the human’s shoulders shaking.
None dared to move or speak. Eventually she lowered her hands to glare at them through reddened eyes. “You go away.” The words were whispered but rang through the cavernous bay, promising terrible things if they weren’t heard. “You go away right now.” And with that the human turned and walked away.
Ayma said nothing as Xiù paused only long enough to gently lift Triymin’s body, carrying it reverently up the ramp into the yacht. Her paws were clenched… her unsheathed claws poked against her delicate pads, demanding she use them. The mercenaries deserved to die. Her blood screamed at her to punish them, to avenge the fallen Sister… to demand Xiù end them. But how could she ask her friend to wet her hands with blood, when her own reasons were tainted with guilt?
She was the Mother. It should have been her lying there, not the brave young female whom she’d treated so badly. The dart was still in her paw; she threw it into a dark corner of the hangar, letting it softly ping out of sight.
A paw gripped her shoulder and she looked up to see Regaari standing over her, his muzzle still bleeding where he’d bitten his lip. “Go to her. She needs you now.” She nodded.
When Astim woke, he found himself being dragged across the decking.
His vision was blurry, and his head hurt. Worse, he found his entire left side curiously numb. His right arm functioned, and he lifted it to touch his head. There he found a deep dent on the side of his skull, disturbingly soft, and his fingers came away slick with his own blood. Neural damage, he diagnosed automatically. He was likely paralyzed on one side.
It looked as though it wouldn’t be Muntib visiting the regenerator… no, Astim would need it for himself. The two stupid brothers would have to deal with their wounds themselves. They’d failed, and now he owed them nothing!
He looked up, squinting his big eyes against the blurriness. He felt a furred paw grasping his ankle… one of the Gaoians! He could hear distant metallic echoes, air being circulated, and the buzz of a nearby kinetic field. The hangar! He was still in the hangar, next to the open bay door. Where were the two mercenaries? Had they abandoned him? His one functional hand closed around empty air… his pulse pistol was gone. What was the Gaoian doing?
“What… let… let me go,” he rasped. Only one side of his mouth would function, and it infuriated him that he probably sounded damaged and stupid like Muntib.
Surprisingly, the creature obeyed, dropping the leg it’d been dragging him with ungently. The blurred shape moved, coming closer, leaning down until the featureless shape resolved itself. Astim found himself staring up at the male Gaoian. The being’s ears were folded back, and his fangs – the teeth of an omnivore – peeked slightly from his muzzle. Blood matted the fur around his chin.
“I try not to judge a species based on the actions of individuals,” the furry male rumbled, “but you Corti make it so very difficult.”
“What! How-”
“Save your indignation. I do not fault Sister Shoo for sparing your mercenaries. It is her way, and they were only weapons. Weapons wielded by you.”
“I-”
“Don’t bother denying it! There’s nothing you could say that would convince me a Corti would take orders from a pair of Locayl. This was all you. The death of Sister Triymin is on you.” The Gaoian leaned in close as he growled the words, and Astim found he couldn’t help but stare at the blood that decorated the creature’s chin, making it look like he’d just finished savaging a kill. “On you… and on me.”
Before Astim could come up with any denials or excuses, the Gaoian stood up, mercifully pulling his face away. The furry being looked away, at something the Corti couldn’t see from his position on the deck. Astim tried to think of what he’d do if the Gaoian didn’t turn him over to the station’s guards – who were easily bribed – and instead intended to bring him to Gao to face justice there. He’d heard of what had happened to Administrator Trig, who had been tried, convicted… and then released.
Released into an open square on Gao. A square filled with furious Gaoian females.
He flinched when the male spoke again. His voice was conversational, and the fury was all the more frightening for its absence. “I failed. A Sister of Gao lies dead. I… don’t know what I could have done different. All my training… useless. Outnumbered, overpowered… how do I solve that problem? I don’t know. Except perhaps be born human,” he added with a wry sort of resignation.
Even through the dim light and blurriness Astim knew when the male looked back at him, his voice turning dark. “But you… nothing but reckless greed. The oldest problem in the universe. A very simple problem.” The Gaoian’s paw took hold of his limp arm, bared claws pricking delicate skin. “A problem I know how to solve.”
“Wha-… no!”
He struggled despite his paralysis. But Gaoians were stronger than Corti… proportionally and absolutely. The slight being was easily hauled upward, and with a twist he was tossed through the nearby kinetic field, the barrier hardly slowing him as he passed into the void he’d intended for them.
All sound disappeared even as pain exploded in his small, delicate ears. A huge pressure built inside his chest, lessening as the last of his air streamed from his mouth in a fast-dispersing mist… replaced with another, different agony as his lungs clenched against the sudden loss of pressure. His body burned, and suddenly the paralysis and numbness of half his body was a grim blessing. Decompression trauma, he automatically diagnosed.
As his vision swiftly changed from red to grey to black, he had enough time to think: This would be worse for a human.
It was no comfort.
This series closes here but the narrative continues in ‘The Deathworlders’ series. Check Dragon Dreams if you are interested.