Chapter 8

8

- Arelion -

I get ready to attack the group of aliens from above. I'm not angry or ready for a serious battle, so my wings are still their ordinary hue. But my big shape casts the aliens in shadow, and I know I must be a terrifying view from below.

Maeve's call reaches me just as I land on the metal walkway, right in front of the group of aliens, towering over them, prepared to fling them out of my way.

They stare at me with horror, two of them ducking and wincing while two others fight to get inside the ship first.

I have to make a quick decision.

"Greetings," I say as I fold my wings back in. "Just wanted to wish you a pleasant journey."

I turn my back to the confused aliens and make my way back to Maeve, who's waiting with her furry robot. "Where is it?"

"It's coming," the robot puppy yips. "Right there." She points with one paw. A ship is making its way towards us from another part of the hangar.

"Cerak is flying it?" I ask, just making sure. "I'm astonished he got along with the central computer of a strange ship."

" I got along with it," the robot tells me. "Cerak couldn't persuade a piece of electronics to put a piece of trash in him."

I give Maeve a quick look. "I hope it's a good ship. That one back there looks perfectly whole."

"I hope so too," she says. "I'm trusting that Bari is right and that this new one is better."

There's some commotion further up the walkway. Two of the Fus aliens that own the station are on their way here, having probably seen me fly.

"This could get close," I fret as the ship we're waiting for makes its way towards us. "Maeve, get on this side of me." I grab her and pull her so she's shielded by my larger body if those gangsters start to shoot.

The ship Cerak is piloting turns to present its hatch to us. It's not going to settle into a berth, but he will clearly make it hover over the end of the walkway while we get in. At first glance, it looks like a remarkably bad choice in spaceship: it's a trash hauler. Nearly all of it is a squarish cargo space, painted bright yellow and streaked with all kinds of unpleasant substances and fluids. The cockpit compartment at the front is small by comparison, but should have room for the two of us with more to spare.

Our pursuers are coming closer fast. I spot guns in their hands, but it looks like they won't start shooting until they've closed more distance. The risk of hitting a spaceship and triggering some kind of automatic defense mechanism that goes crazy and kills everyone is probably too great. But they won't wait much longer.

"Come on," I mutter as the garbage hauler slowly comes in through the vacuum of the hangar. "We don't have time for fancy maneuvers."

The first bang rings through the small tunnel of air that covers the length of the walkway. Some kind of projectile whangs off the walkway and whines as it passes us, the sound suddenly stopping as it enters the vacuum of space.

"Chemical explosive weapons," I mutter as I change my stance to make sure Maeve is covered. "It's like we've traveled centuries back in time."

One alien stops and aims. There's a flash and another bang, and this time the bullet passes through the outer feathers of my left wing. They're getting too close for comfort.

Behind me I hear the dissonant hum and tired rattle of the trash hauler's engines as Cerak brings it to hover at the end of the walkway. There's a hiss as the hatch opens.

A bullet slams into the hull, leaving a hole in the outer layer.

"Get in!" I tell Maeve and try to grab her from behind me to shove her to safety inside the ship.

She grabs my hand and pulls me along. "You too!"

The aliens are standing still now, just a few paces away, aiming carefully with one gun each. The shots come fast, and I fully expect to be hit. But as I throw myself backwards to be a smaller target, I notice none of the bullets hit any of us.

I try to make my backwards fall less hard, because I suspect Maeve is right under me.

The door hisses shut, and the ship starts moving.

"Could you get up?" Maeve asks, her voice tight. "My leg…"

I quickly get to my feet and help her up, running my eyes up and down her to check for injuries. "Better than a sharp elbow. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she says and checks me out. "They shot so much, I was sure they'd hit you!"

I look down my front, but there's no holes anywhere. "It seems they're worse shots than should be possible." I spot the furry robot and give it another look. "But there may be an explanation."

Maeve looks around the space we're in. There's bare, rusty metal everywhere, and the smell of garbage is noticeable. "What kind of ship is this?"

"It is what it smells like," I tell her as I make my way forwards, towards the cockpit. The walls are moist with condensation, and it's clearly a hauler that's been in constant use for years.

The cockpit is just as functional, with bare metal everywhere, scuffed and worn where the paint is flaking off. The control panel is a patchwork of mismatched buttons, levers, and displays. Several warning lights are flashing, but none of them seem critical. There are signs of hasty repairs everywhere. The lighting is dim, and outside the main viewscreen there's only the stars of empty space.

"Is this the best you could find?" I ask. "Not that I'm surprised that a trash can would pick a trash hauler."

Cerak is standing on the deck at the pilot's seat, his single metal arm attached to a port on the console. "It's the only ship we found without a difficult central computer. And it's in perfectly good shape where it counts. My well-known affinity for other parts of the recycling industry barely had anything to do with my choice. About twenty percent, I'd estimate. Thirty at the most."

"We did get out of that station without getting shot down," I concede, "so it's clearly faster than it looks. I heard you were able to cooperate with that furry robot back there."

"'Cooperate' is not the word I'd use," the trash can-shaped robot says. "Anywhere in particular you want to go? Or perhaps any destination is as good as any other, since you clearly didn't find the archmagus here."

I grab the pilot's seat and shake it, finding that it's well attached to the deck. "I did find him. He's been dragging us through space with him, so that he could be convinced that I want the job enough. In the end he made Maeve and me go through several of those deadly experiments for his entertainment."

"Ah. But he's not here . So with my superior, processor-based intelligence I shrewdly conclude that he doesn't want to help."

"I don't know," I confess. "It was hard to get a straight answer out of him. But he didn't say no, exactly. So there's still a chance. He wants us to go to Sprenk. But first we'll go to Gigori and see if we can prepare some other way of saving our planet from certain doom."

"To just straight-up kill Buroteo and free your people," Cerak says flatly. "It's what I suggested some time ago. It would have saved us a lot of effort. But you insisted on doing things the legal way. Which is usually the slow and wrong way, in my opinion."

"And we're still aiming for that," I tell him as I sit down, finding that this seat is much more comfortable than in my previous ship. "But we just want to have a plan B."

"That's always a good idea, even if this plan B really should be plan A."

I get back up. I can't relax knowing that Maeve is back there. The mere thought about that jungle experiment sends heat to my crotch. "I will leave the flying to you for now, Cerak. And thanks for getting this ship and rescuing us. I'm not sure we would have made it otherwise."

The robot turns his sensors towards me as if surprised. "You know that's my pleasure, Arelion. I knew that I would be no use to you in the space station once you aggravated that gang, so I decided to do the most important thing and secure your escape. Along with Bari, I suppose. That little robot has a lot of secrets."

"I think I can guess about one of them," I state as I leave the cockpit and make my way back.

Maeve and the furry robot have found the ship's lounge.

It's surprisingly large and airy. The metal walls are hidden with heavy drapes in deep red, there's a badly worn carpet on the floor, and the furniture consists mostly of big, green cushions with fringes everywhere. There are two small portholes in the walls, showing the stars of space outside. An elaborate lamp with hundreds of small light points hangs from the ceiling. It has to be an antique and may well be quite valuable.

Maeve is examining a panel on the wall, and my eyes are drawn to her feminine shape. Now that I know what's under that jumpsuit, her allure is even stronger. But now it's not because of a crazy amount of pheromones in the air. Now it's all real.

I lean my shoulder on the doorframe. "I never knew anyone who attracted trouble the way you do."

She gives me a sideways glance. "Are you including yourself in that?"

"I never think of myself as trouble," I tell her. "But I can't deny that you have a certain attraction. Like the way one slows down when one passes the site of a fresh spaceship crash. You know you shouldn't look, but you can't tear your eyes off it."

Maeve sits down in a heap of cushions that have a vague chair-like shape. "Uh-huh. I'm sure that comparing someone to an accident is the height of flattery and politeness on your backwards planet, but people from more developed areas of the galaxy might be offended. I suppose it depends on the accident. Is it one of those with heavy casualties?"

I scratch my chin. "Not yet. But we got close."

She looks all over me. "I noticed them shooting at us, but they didn't hit anything vital. Although there is a new hole in your feathers. Thanks for standing between me and the shooters. That was very kind."

I poke one finger through the small hole in my wing feathers. "I can take more hits than you without them killing me. It's a simple risk calculation."

"Well, thanks anyway," she sniffs. "What's your risk calculation for wherever we're going next?"

"There shouldn't be much risk there. Gigori is a friendly place."

She leans back and crosses her legs in a smooth movement. "A friendly place in space would be a new experience for me."

I can't look away from her legs. Somewhere along the way she lost the rags and long strips of fabric that hid her shape, and she looks all the better for it. "For an Earth woman, it's one of very few places you'll be safe."

"And then? You're on some kind of mission, I think."

I arrange my feathers to cover the bullet hole. "I am. Are you?"

"Sure."

"A secret one?" I persist.

She straightens in her chair, giving me a searching look. "It should be kept secret from the Bululg, anyway. Are you one of their allies?"

"Oh, I'm a staunch ally of the Bululg," I deadpan. "I fully support their glorious efforts to… um… do that thing they do. Build a business empire? No? Rob banks? Steal toys? One of those. I forget which."

Maeve gives me a wry smile. "I never had you figured as the sarcastic type."

I wander into the lounge, enjoying Maeve's scent in the air. "Me neither. To clarify: I've heard of the Bululg, but I know very little about them. From context, I assume they are the ones that have occupied your planet."

"That's right."

I pull one of the drapes to the side, finding only rusty metal pipes behind it. "And your mission is aimed at weakening them somehow?"

"My mission is aimed at finding someone who could weaken them. What's yours? That archmagus is involved somehow, right?"

I drop the drape and walk over to the wall, bending down to look out the porthole. But Cerak has taken the ship into hyperspace, and looking out at the chaos is unpleasant. "It's a story as old as the galaxy itself: I want a certain job. The archmagus can prove that I'm the right candidate for that position. He can do it easily, not even using the amazing powers that he has. Well, you saw some of the things he can do."

"From what he said, he knows that you have a good claim to whichever job that is," Maeve says.

"Oh, he knows I should have it. But he didn't seem that interested in helping me."

"As far as I was able to follow your conversation, he was interested enough to drag you through space and to make us go through those crazy experiments," Maeve points out. "I'd say he's probably going to help. Seems like he's invested a lot of time in making you prove yourself. It would be weird if he just walked away from that."

I scratch my chin. "You may have a point. The Fire Mages are difficult to predict, and they do things for their own reasons. But I suppose having him get us out of that station using his special abilities is a good sign."

"That's what I'm thinking. I know it's not real magic he did. But those abilities seem really special."

I lean on the wall behind me. "Have you heard of the Elders?"

She frowns. "The ancient aliens that developed super advanced tech and then just left thousands of years ago, leaving all their stuff behind?"

"That's them. The Fire Mages are a small group of aliens that have access to some outrageously advanced technology that was left by the Elders. They claim to be Elders themselves, but we don't believe them. On my planet, the various Fire Mages had a special role as priests and advisors for most of recorded history. It made our planet powerful and secure. That's why I need Yomeran to verify that the job should really be mine. His confirmation is crucial, especially because he's an archmagus and so especially powerful." It's the soft version of my struggle, but it's close enough to the truth.

"What kind of job is it?"

I think about it, not willing to tell Maeve everything right now. "It's a job with a lot of responsibility. But when you do it right, it can make life better for lots of people. I don't think you have something like it on Earth."

"Oh."

For a while, the only sounds in the lounge are the hum and rattle from the engines and the soft creaking of the hull. It's an old ship, but I think it will hold together. These utility ships are usually solid.

I discreetly look over at Maeve. I can't stop thinking about what I saw and tasted and enjoyed under that jumpsuit. But now, she looks tired. "Did you check out the cabins?"

She frowns. "There are cabins?"