Fawkes glided through the air, beating his wings when needed to maintain altitude and speed. His Vulcan eyes made tracking easy, once she’d reveal herself, but he had a good idea of where his target was hiding. He flew low, over the treeline, watching it disappear as he neared the mountains of Olynia.
He sniffed the crisp fall air, catching her scent downwind and beating on. She came here every year, at generally this time. He wasn’t sure why – no, that was a lie, he had a pretty decent idea why: He had decided to kill the Ethologes a few winters ago. They had been a semi-sentient species, horrific looking at times, with the ability to take on the form of anything they bit. Upon taking on the form of their target, they would be able to breed – once, and then be forced to take on another form, from another target. Unfortunately, there were thousands of them, so every cycle their numbers had doubled. Fawkes had considered it a threat to his hatchlings, and had decided to slay the creatures.
Fawkes and Nyx were Vorchans. Some call them dragons, particularly the Gaians. Most of his kind were part of the VE – The Vorchan Empire. But he had been cast out. Now he had lived nomadically, going from planet to planet with his ship.
That was until he had met Darnell. Darnell was a Raumen, a bipedal creature with a naval ancestry. He commanded the legendary Thanatos, a biomechanoid starship capable of altering the future of systems with its presence alone. It was a Descendent craft, which meant many things to many people, but namely meant weapons and armour to him. They had been arch enemies at times. Fawkes’ ship – another Descendent – had often engaged Thanatos in combat. At one time, Flames had even bested Thanatos, but it had been due to luck, a loose koveran charge having exploded in the breech of Thanatos’ adaptive hypervelocity cannon, or AHC.
Flames had taken a liking to one of Thanatos’ children: Violet, a Puritan. At one time Puritans had been the anti-thesis of Descendents, preferring peace and prosperity over any semblance of violence. But nowadays, since the passage of the Great Wars, the line between Puritan and Descendent had been skewed somewhat. There were still notable physiological differences between the two craft, but psychologically they could be quite similar, and genetically they were compatible, as the ships had always been. They were merely different races of the same species.
With the two families linked through Flames’ and Violet’s bond, Thanatos’ other offspring had decided to entrust themselves with Fawkes’ children, eager to have Captains so that they may fly off into the galaxy proper. The Galactic Core still had high restrictions in place against Type-4 craft, which were ships without Captains representing them.
Which made Fawkes wonder if her worry stemmed from another source, not just the Ethologe genocide…
He found her, and pulled himself towards the ground, landing as lightly as possible. Hearing wasn’t the greatest trait of the Blackwing, another race of Vorchan. Her tail moved placidly from side to side, chrome black, with three tin red spikes near the tip. The sharp edge of the tail had a red blade that tapered off to blackness, giving an impressive red gradient that looked extremely attractive to Fawkes, his skin being a gradient of red, just like that blade. Her body was completely black as well, and slick, the interlocking of her scales barely noticeable, even on her stomach, where her colors became slightly lighter, fading to dark grey. Her eyes were red, and seemed to gaze through things.
While they were both Vorchans, their phonotypical similarities ended there. Fawkes was adorned with spikes, white ones, and sharp to the touch. His body was mostly red, with black stripes running along him longitudinally. His stomach was black, the interlocking scale-plates noticeable, and his paws were big and cat-like in stature. He had long ears, and blue eyes, and his wings were red, fading to black due to Flames’ genetic influence (Flames had black ‘wings’). Nyx had no genetic influences, never having paired with a biomechanoid starship. Not that it would have mattered at this age anyways, as she had already matured.
Her ears perked up, but Fawkes was already behind her. He contemplated just jumping on her from behind, but she was much bigger, and she didn’t seem to be feeling particularly friendly at the moment.
An affectionate nuzzle was in order, which caught her by surprise. He could tell by the sudden change in her scent as her adrenal glands kicked in and then shut off instantly. She pretended to not have been surprised, not even looking behind her.
“Have you heard about the NCR insurgence?” Nyx asked.
“Which one?” Fawkes sighed, brushing up against her. She had been distant for months now.
“The one near the Fort system, where Red and Allonsi are.”
“Oh Nyx, they’ll be fine.” Fawkes pawed comfortingly, bringing his tail over hers. “Red can take care of herself.”
“But you know what she’s like. Always asking questions, and worrying…”
“Like her mother!” Fawkes interjected, trying to lock fangs with her only to have her look away towards the frozen lakes.
“… and we already-nearly lost her once! Remember Martock…” she spat the name, “he almost took her.”
“Nyx…” he crooned, “We can check up on her if you’d like.”
She shook her head, sighing, “No, you’re right. She can take care of herself. If we come in there with Flames she’ll think we don’t trust her.”
Flames’ capacitor pulsed at the mention of his name. He had been monitoring Fawkes’ neural band passively. He powered up his systems, going just out of his standby hibernating state. His six hundred meter long skids whirred into a more comfortable position, extending to loosen the biomechanoid muscles that held them in place. The gravimetric lens lit up, activating a distortion field out towards the planet. He rid the field to a geosynchronous orbit at a leisurely half a gee. To Fawkes, the commotion from his ship barely registered: A mere butt-in to see what was going on.
Delan’s peak? Flames yawned, his sensor inputs still a blur.
Delan’s peak… Fawkes sighed. They were chattering on the private Captain’s band, where Nyx wouldn’t hear them. She had reluctantly agreed to getting a limited interface when all her children had started using the device to plot escapades out into the mountains, knowing mother wouldn’t hear.
What is she worried about now?
Fawkes transmitted the last ten minutes of his memories, immediately updating Flames on the situation. There was barely a second’s delay as Flames digested the experiences.
I can sneak in? Flames suggested, uploading tactical data on Fort.
“Did I wake him up?” Nyx asked, noticing Fawkes’ change in expression. While the conversation had seemed relatively long, only a few seconds of real-time had actually passed. The question was more of an attempt at humour than anything else. Nyx found Flames’ slothy behaviour somewhat amusing. He hadn’t really done anything since the Ethologe extermination. Even Violet had ventured out to do courier runs, something Flames found painfully boring. He also couldn’t distract her during the runs, or sneak any inappropriate transmissions in, which made it all the more frustrating.
Flames focused his ocular strips on their area. The strips were two lines of photosensitive cells tasked with the sole duty of basic sight. They combined to form a vee shape on the dorsal hull, just behind the bow of the ship. With these ocular strips, he saw the rolling mountains of Olynia, and the Garysse lakes to the south – frozen over this time of year. He focused on the highest peak, and saw the two figures standing there. Vulcan tail entwined with Blackwing.
Fawkes looked up, imagining where Flames was hundreds of thousands of feet in the air.
Through Flames’ eyes, Fawkes looked at Emerald – their home planet. They had settled here after meeting Darnell. Fawkes now trusted the man with his life and children, just as Darnell did with his.
The planet was average-sized for a habitable blue and green orb, with a diameter of approximately twelve thousand kilometres and an orbital altitude of one hundred and forty nine million kilometres. It was located at the edge of known space, surrounded on one side by the Koveran Sea, an expanse of infinite blackness that to a Beems flowed of pure koveran energy, beyond what any life-form could survive. It was barely noticeable to most ships, making it the perfect home to people that preferred not to be found.
–
Fort was similar, albeit smaller. It was similar in the sense that people came here to not be found. However, the planet was the first from the sun, and while the sun was a candle compared to the brilliance of Emerald’s star, it made a good enough job of eliminating any natural water supply the planet once had. It was a desert planet, ravaged by storms and controlled by a seemingly immortal man by the name of Chiron. It had been the site of a ferocious war after Vorchan slaves had been sent to the planet by Martock.
Which was why Allonsi was here now, in orbit, patiently waiting for Red to finish the paperwork for the next supply of refugees that were on their way back to Terra – the home planet of the most of the slaves that had been taken here. Nobody really seemed to care much about the slaves. They had nothing to offer for the courier runs, and nobody wanted to risk the pirates that frequented the area. Although Fort was known for having a very impressive Resident Defence Fleet, there was always a chance of an interception at a point along the route, due to the fact that Vorchan slaves and body parts were still of high value on the black market.
The thought of body parts being sold made Red uneasy. She knew her mother had been a captive, but Nyx had never ever spoken of captivity. It was a topic you just didn’t bring up, ever.
Red was four years old, and fully capable, if not a little smaller than the average Vorchan. They matured quickly, which wasn’t too surprising considering their heritage. Red had already been roaming about and relatively independent upon hatching. How successful her roaming was, having run right into Martock, was a different story. One she tried not to think about. They never did find the Vorchan that saved her…
She’s talking to you! Allonsi hissed.
Red had faded into thought, and had no idea what the co-ordinator had just said.
“Sorry?” Red asked.
“We’ve cleared your lil’ ship for an RDF pass, dear.” It meant her ship was clear to enter the atmosphere without resistance from the Resident Defence Fleet. Red nodded and left with a smile, scanning the main lounge. She sat down perpendicular to a window that overlooked most of the port’s apron. Fort’s spaceport was large, but had very little traffic. She was the only other person in the lounge. Most of the spaceport was used for government trade, this trade had also been under government jurisdiction, which would make it safe, wouldn’t it? But then why was she feeling strange. That familiar pressure build-up at the back of her neck, the feeling she hadn’t been able to identify when Martock had been seconds away from killing her. It haunted her now, or watched over her. She wasn’t sure. She was probably feeling this way because of how little they were actually making. The amount was barely worth mentioning: Eleven hundred credits for the safe transfer of nine Vorchans. It didn’t really matter. Allonsi generated everything Red needed, so the money was more a vanity issue than anything else… though she really DID want to try Terra’s latest cosmetic tattoos. She had been looking for a way to make her spikes look more imposing, they were still small and flimsy and very non-threatening. She’d hoped with some scarier looking spikes people would stop talking to her in that condescending, overly meltey tone.
Her ears pricked at the sound of the main doors opening. A few men came in. She immediately felt uneasy, but avoided giving them a glare. She had to remember that most Raumens were terrified of Vorchans, and there had been a lot of hostility between the two species on the planet.
They sat down on the couch across from her – there were four of them. She stopped grating her tail against the floor when they started talking amongst each other jokingly, barely giving her a second glance. She let out a sigh of relief and decided to get up and walk over to the window, try and notice Allonsi’s approach from up above. She’d probably be coming in slow. The Puritan never did like pressure changes too much.
So when can I start building a shuttle? Allonsi asked.
When you’re a little older. The book says not to rush shuttles. They take away from your actual growth. Well unless you want to stay this small forever? Red asked rhetorically.
Allonsi was a hundred and ten meters long, which was a little on the small side for a Puritan her age. No. I hate planets…
Red laughed, the four men who had been talking to each other on the couch stopped talking for a moment, then resumed their banter. She wasn’t sure how old they were, or if all of them actually WERE male, it had taken her long enough to figure out that the operations co-ordinator had been a female. They just didn’t have any distinguishing features!
She wondered what it was like to not be able to fly. How could they function like that? She found herself locking eyes with one of the men, for she had been idly staring at the back of his jacket, wondering what wings would have looked like on him.
“What’s your name?” the man asked. He sounded male… but Red still wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even sure if it was her he was talking to. She stayed quiet for a few moments, waiting for someone else to respond. They were all watching her now. She seemed to curl her tail over her feet, pretending it was a shield that could extend up past her body and hide her from this social confrontation.
“Red—“ she said, with a cough.
“Sorry what?” the man asked.
“Red.” she repeated, coming closer.
“What? What’s your name? You know. Like I’m Mart.” he said, pointing at himself.
“Red is my name.” she insisted.
“They named you after a color?” another said.
“Is that some sort of slave name?”
“Were there too many of you to name properly?”
She tucked her ears back and recoiled to the window as they all started speculating over her name. It brought back memories of the crèche where she had been born.
Finally they focused on her again. “So how did you get your name, Red?” Mart asked.
“I – it was given to me.” Red said uneasily, avoiding eye contact. She focused on another window by the main entrance. It was smaller. There were hovercars outside, parked, asleep. Not that they slept.
“Most names are… but how?” Mart asked.
“What?” Red asked.
“How. Did’ya get… The name!” he replied, his voice taking on a more serious tone. She didn’t want to be here anymore, she wanted to fly away. She checked up on Allonsi, still over ten minutes away.
She noticed the people weren’t staring at her anymore, but her wings, she had flared them subconsciously, wanting to take off into the ceiling like an idiot.
“Your wings are red.” observed Mart, “Is that where you’re name came from?”
Red nodded, self-consciously retracting her wings.
“The rest of you is black…” observed Mart.
Red nodded meekly, unsure of what to say to such an obvious observation. She noticed she had curled up somewhat, her front paws nearly touching her hind legs, and her tail coiled over tightly. She loosened her stance, hoping the conversation was over.
“Hey,” Mart said. Red looked at him again, listening. “Red?”
“Yes?” Red asked.
“We’re sort of trying to get off-world. Can you help us out?” he asked.
“Yeah our ship still ain’t here. Doesn’t make sense.” muttered another.
“What ship were you taking? You could ask Helen.” Red had to stutter the name, still uncomfortable with immediate data transfer between Allonsi and herself. She had forgotten the name and had been forced to grab data straight from the ship’s databanks to not look like an idiot. Though it seemed she still looked like an idiot.
“Helen’s a hag.” said the other. He was hairier than the rest. Red noted the hair. Maybe it was a female? No – couldn’t be – he had a scruffy voice. Scruffy voice meant male… right?
“She told us our ship would be here hours ago.” Mart said.
Something about the story was strange, but Red couldn’t quite catch the inconsistency at that moment.
“I don’t know…” Red said. She focused on Allonsi, hoping she’d been listening, but the ship was pre-occupied with mitigating descent pains. Red was on her own.
“Come on, it shouldn’t take too much of your time. It’s just an inter-system jump, and we’ll make it worth your while!” Mart said with a smile, holding out a c-disk.
Red’s neural interface queried it. It held a million credits. A very nice amount for an intersolar jaunt. Or was it interplanetary? Red got lost in the semantics again.
“Can you see how much is in it?” Mart asked.
Red nodded. “Yes, it’s a nice offer. Is it for just the four of you?” she asked, trying to sound all business-like.
“Yep.” they nodded, smiles on their faces.
There was a loud buzz up above as Allonsi’s gravimetric lens disturbed the immediate atmosphere. The four men stared reverently at the ship as it gently came down on the apron.
That was stressful. I feel like I’m gonna melt. Why did you have to choose a desert planet? Why couldn’t we have gone to Avernus or Odyssia or –
But then Allonsi noticed Red’s adrenaline levels and stopped the querulous transmissions.
“So do we have a deal, Red?” Mart asked.
“Where exactly would we be going?” she asked.
“Just a location near the sixth orbital.”
Red didn’t remember what was there. “What’s at the sixth orbital?” she asked.
“A small planetoid, Fort’s market, basically. We really need to make some purchases and sales there. You see, we’ve got all the cash, but we’re refugees, we’ve got nothing to our name other than the account, y’know? So we figured we’d hire a transport, get out of this dump as quicklike as possible, get our own ship at Fort six, and then start our own life. That doesn’t sound like too bad a plan, does it Red?”
It sounded like a trap. How long to recharge your koveran chamber? Red asked. It was their key to jumping to freedom if things got messy here.
Err… shame leaked into the neural band.
Allonsi…
An hour and a half? Maybe…
Red let out an exasperated sigh, “I still have to wait for my other passengers.”
“Of course.” Mart nodded.
Red returned the nod automatically, and made her way back to the big window that now framed Allonsi.
After thirty minutes, she was getting impatient, and Allonsi’s chambers weren’t even at twenty percent.
Red double checked the times with the co-ordinator. The Vorchans were definitely late. But how could all of them be late…
“I’ll check up on the situation for you, hun. They may have cancelled.” she said.
“Why would they cancel?” Red asked.
“Maybe they couldn’t afford the tickets?”
The tickets were virtually free! “Hmm…” Red sighed, walking back to her window.
“What’s the deal?” Mart asked.
“I don’t know. She’s checking.” Red replied.
“Screw em’. You’ve got a way better contract now anyways.” said Mart’s scruffy friend.
“It’s not for the money…”
“Really? You’re doing jobs in the Fort system for something other than money?” Mart asked.
“I want to help my kind.” she said.
“That’s noble – but nobility doesn’t buy lobster, or quaffee.”
“— or glitterlove”
“pheralax…” there was snickering at that comment.
Neither Red nor Allonsi knew what any of that meant.
“Come on, think of the nice things you can buy with a million.” Mart said. “What would you buy?”
He was closer now, almost in a confiding distance. They were all giving her a lot of attention now, and it seemed more sincere than before. She almost felt like she was making friends.
“Well…” Red started explaining the spike augmentations you could buy at Terra. Hatchlings loved them, but they were expensive, and the parents generally never let the children buy them for fear of them poking each other’s eyes out, but since she was independent and had Allonsi watching over her she could! She was excited to then tell them all about Terra, and then the conversation shifted to herself. She told them about where she’d been born. A small planet called (what was the planet called???). She told them about the crèche and her caretaker, Odin. She told them about her friends there and how they’d gone off on an adventure a year into her life. She explained how she’d then learned to fly for the first time, and about all of her failed attempts. They laughed at that, but not derisively, it really was funny, when she thought about it. She finished her story with how she decided to go here, after Allonsi had chosen her.
“So Allonsi’s parent is Thanatos?” Mart asked.
“Thanatos and Kite.” Or was it Macaria?
“So are we ready? We’ve been talking for hours. I don’t think they’re coming, Red.”
“I don’t think so either. I’ll let Helen know I’ll be back in an hour anyways.”
“Oh Red. Fort is going to drain that kindness from you one day.” Mart said, making his way to her ship.
“Wait.” Red said.
The men stopped, looking at her.
“Can you pay up front? If that’s alright…” she stuttered.
“Already have.” Mart winked.
Red checked her account and blushed, “Sorry! Didn’t notice.”
She liked Mart.
–
Allonsi took off smoothly, and they were free from the annoying pressure gradients of the planet within five minutes. It was only the descents that Allonsi took extra care on, the ascents were simply exhilarating.
It was strange being alone with Mart in the chambers Red had given him. The rest of his friends were in another room, playing some sort of game. He was left with sorting the navigation using a small datapal he carried.
“So we’ll be going somewhere here. We haven’t exactly gotten the communications from Fort VI yet. They’re pretty paranoid. How long will it take your ship to get there?” Mart asked.
Red looked at the co-ordinate, transmitting it to her ship through the neural interface. “A few hours.”
“Hours?” Mart asked in surprise.
“Sorry… Allonsi isn’t too great at acceleration yet… she’s only a year old.”
“No – I mean it would have taken our shuttle weeks to get there. This is amazing. You’ve saved us so much time. Thanks a lot Red.”
Red felt greatly uplifted by the compliment. She curled up next to Mart’s chair.
“You’re like a leocat.” Mart observed.
“What’s that?” Red asked. She could have used Allonsi’s database, but was interested to hear Mart’s explanation.
“Well… it’s this furry… thing. Four legs and a tail – no wings though. Nowhere near as good looking either.”
He was so charming! Red laughed.
“So you said Thanatos was Allonsi’s father?” Mart asked.
“Yep.” Red affirmed, realizing Mart’s hand was running over the back of her head. It was comfortable, the stroking. She growled pleasurably, pressing up against the side of the chair. She hadn’t even realized how itchy the nape of her neck was until he scratched it. It had been so long since she’d been petted! It was so pleasurable! She felt like slowing Allonsi down just so Mart would stay with them longer.
“How old are you, anyways, Red – if you don’t mind my asking, that is.” Mart said.
Red suddenly felt self-conscious again. He stopped petting her, seeming to notice how tense she’d become.
“I’m young…” Red countered cryptically.
“Sorry if the question made you uncomfortable. I don’t know much about Vorchans. You’re a lot smaller than most of ‘em.”
“Not for long.” Red said. “I’m a Blackwing!”
“A Blackwing?” Mart asked. His hand reached for her right wing spar, and she let him extend the wing. “The wings look red to me…”
“That was the origin of my name. They used to call me Redwing…” Red snorted.
“They teased you, eh?”
She nodded.
“So your race is… Blackwing?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re undoubtedly a mix, then.”
“Right. Vulcan mix.”
“Vulcans?”
“They’re red. Usually with black stripes.”
“Ah, the Queen!” Mart said.
“What?”
“The Vorchan Empire Queen. I heard about that. They’re always red with black stripes. Stunning creatures.”
“Oh, right.”
“You don’t know about the Vorchan Empire?”
“No, we’re offshoots. The Vorchan Empire doesn’t interfere with our lives.”
“Offshoots?”
Red didn’t know much about that subject. Nyx had explained it to her once, but she didn’t quite understand. “It’s complicated. I don’t really know how to explain it. I barely know it myself.”
“That’s alright.” he found a soft spot on the side of her neck and scratched it vigorously, making her almost keel over from the euphoria, but if she fell on her back he wouldn’t be able to stroke her… unless…
She jumped onto Mart’s lap, to his surprise. There was an oomph as he tried to shift her weight, as well as a few aye’s when she forgot to retract her claws. Finally she was in a comfortable position, her back towards him, lying on her left side, on his lap. Infinitely satiated by Mart’s petting, she fell asleep.
–
This was so painfully easy. Mart’s men had already installed the neural dampener in the other room, and installing one on her neck had been a cakewalk. It was currently injecting tranquilizers into her system, making sure she’d stay asleep for the duration of their ‘talks’.
The initial plan had been to sell both the Vorchan and the ship, but the fact that the ship was the offspring of Thanatos meant there’d be much more benefit with ransom.
And risk… “Are you guys in place?” Mart asked, looking down at Red. He picked her up gently, laying her on the bed, making sure her wings weren’t folding over themselves. He had hoped that capturing alien ships with alien crews would be easier than dealing with Raumen. But here he was again: feeling bad for his victim.
All the sections of the ship had been secure. It was a tiny ship. Now all he had to do was give Thanatos a call…
–
Allonsi knew something was wrong the moment she awoke. Her skids weren’t moving, and she couldn’t feel her gravimetric lens. In fact, none of her sensors seemed to be giving her any sort of feed. She ran through them frantically.
I’m paralyzed! Red! Help!
Red wasn’t responding. The thought of her Captain lost put her into a state of panic. Adrexin – the Beems equivalent of adrenaline – began coursing through her veins, the excess venting into the corridors.
Mart sniffed the chemical-laced air. “Alright, she should be terrified enough. Re-activate this drone.”
The drones were the caretakers of most Beems, extensions of the ship-self. For Puritans, it was their only means of seeing inside their hull.
“What’s happening!” the drone chirped.
Mart had translators in his combat interface for the Beems dialect.
“Hello.”
“Mart!” she exclaimed.
“And what was your name?” Mart asked, betraying a pang of guilt for not having remembered the only two names he had to memorize.
“Allonsi. What happened to me? Were we attacked?”
“Eh…” Mart scratched the back of his head self-consciously. “Sort of.”
“Is Red alright?”
“She’s fine. She’s asleep.”
“Asleep asleep?”
“Alive and asleep.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing – well – look: We’re… erm – don’t take this personally…”
There was a pause as Mart considered how he’d explain this. He knew he would get co-operation, so long as he didn’t terrify the poor ship too much. He could see the drone’s camera stalk zeroed on him, staring anxiously. It was an interesting little thing – red, like the ship, and very round. This one had tiny wheels underneath as well as a suction system for getting on the hull for repairs. It wasn’t a very efficient design, but Allonsi was young, her designs hadn’t had time to evolve yet.
“Ya see – we’re pirates-uh mercenaries… no pirates… that sounds more accurate.”
Allonsi kept staring through the drone, but she wasn’t saying anything. Mart continued, “And when we realized you were coming by to pick up the Vorchan, we had their flight cancelled and decided to steal – well initially, but that doesn’t matter. Now we want to hold you for ransom.”
Still no response from Allonsi.
“We know you’re father’s Thanatos, and we know Thanatos’ Captain is quite wealthy. It shouldn’t take too long, and we don’t want too much. Fifty million would be a good number…”
“I don’t want to die!!” Allonsi wailed.
“You won’t die. Contact Thanatos for me and I will speak to Darnell. The money will be transferred, and we’ll be off.” Mart said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.
“Red liked you!”
“This isn’t personal. I like Red too. This is just how I make a living.”
Allonsi didn’t say anything. Mart was about to ask if she had contacted Thanatos when he realized she couldn’t.
“Right, give her access to communications.” Mart said.
“Roger.” Lock replied.
Lock had been with Mart for most of his infamy, and had become his most trusted friend. They had captured eight ships together, two of which had been Beems. Both Beems had been sold to pirates around Fort VI for prices significantly below their market value. It had to do with the effort needed to fully inhibit and tame one after the hand-off, something Mart was incapable of doing with his single inhibitor. The device had probably cost him over twenty million now. He had to pay monthly stipends to the NCR for its continued use, as he hadn’t been able to buy the device upfront. They had wanted three hundred million for it. He had quite a few more beems to go before he would actually start generating real profit with this thing, and with his luck, that’s when it would break down.
“Call Thanatos, Allonsi.” Mart crooned.
A vidscreen in the chamber activated, and Mart walked over to it. “Hello!” Mart said to the figure standing before him.
The man wasn’t smiling, and his eyes made him look older than he was.
“Darnell?” Mart asked.
“And who are you?” Darnell asked.
“Mart. Mart Armstrong.” Mart replied.
“Nice to meet you. What are you doing aboard Allonsi?”
“We’ve inhibited the ship’s signature. You’ll notice it doesn’t show up on your nodescape. If you want to see it again, transfer fifty million to my account. I’m giving you the transfer information now.”
“Done. Now let the ship go.” Darnell said.
“Wh—“ Mart hadn’t expected Darnell to agree that quickly. He checked his datapal, seeing the updated amount flashing on his datapal. “Ok… wait. How about a hundred million?”
“You said fifty.”
“Right – I did.” They stared at each other for a while. Mart could see Darnell getting impatient. The man had an imposing glare that made Mart very uneasy. He de-activated the comms link for a moment.
“Is The Reaper in position?” Mart asked.
The Reaper was their ship, a marvel of Zemorian design, and a relic of the war. It had been handed down generation after generation, and was the Armstrong legacy. It was one of the few non-Beems ships that were capable of using a nodescape for travel. It was also virtually impossible to track.
“It is.” Its pilot was Mao, an ex-NCR that had become half-machine after the Battle of Gaia, where NCR and Terran-Vorchan forces had engaged in battle for the liberation of the planet below. She was lucky to have been near a medical bay when the plasma conduit had ruptured. She hooked herself up to the ship directly, which had a limited-intelligence processor that aided her in her work. She called it Reap. Her hope was that one day she could upgrade (and teach) Reap enough to make the ship as alive as a Beems. It already carried more experience than most, seeming to ‘remember’ its original crew from the days of the Zemorian-Coalition war. Unfortunately, getting Reap to divulge any actual details proved to be difficult, as the correlations the processor made were still somewhat clumsy.
“Everyone, get to the ship.” Mart ordered.
He re-opened the link with Darnell. “Your ship will be yours again in five minutes.”
Darnell nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Mart began making his way from the bridge to his chambers. They were all accessible from the circular corridor that made up most of the young Beems. His men went around the ship to the port docking bay, where The Reaper had already docked with the inhibited ship.
He had to make sure Red was alright, and de-activate the inhibitor he’d placed over her neural interface. He suddenly realized he hadn’t asked for a ransom for Red. Maybe that’s why Darnell had accepted the price. Vorchans must have been expensive.
The chamber door opened, and Red wasn’t there…
He heard scurrying above him and automatically drew his pistol. Red lunged and he fired.
They both cried out as Red’s claws dug into his chest. She was panting heavily, tears in her eyes. Blood was soaking Mart’s jacket and shirt. He had used a hollow-point kinetic round. It would have killed anything else instantly. He didn’t want to get up, his world was dimming too. The claws had him pinned to the floor.
His men helped pry the Vorchan off of him. She was barely breathing after they’d finally gotten her claws out and stabilized Mart. She was lying on her side in a pool of their blood.
Someone grabbed his shoulder.
“Let’s go.” Lock said.
He knew he should go. Red had tried to kill him – maybe. Had she? He saw the bullet wound, just on the left side of her upper body. He kneeled down next to her.
“Mart!” Lock insisted, tugging on his shoulder.
Mart couldn’t just let the Vorchan die here. But taking her with them would greatly complicate things, and he wasn’t even sure if they’d be able to save her.
He lifted her over his shoulder, the malleable spikes pricking him as he took her to their medical bay.
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