13. Tyrxie

Chapter 13

Tyrxie

Preparation

T he plasma grinder hums to life as I drag it across the square plate of arcweave metal. The scorching, shimmering blue haze causes sweat to bead over my body. It’s not just the heat making me perspire, but the desperate need to complete my work. Time is slipping through my fingers like this arcweave dust because today we dock at Omega Flux Station, and my last-minute project might be the difference between life and death.

In Job’s workshop, I glance over my shoulder, making sure no one is watching... lurking. Only the thick metal benches equipped with clamps, cutters, pressers, and other tools are present. The large room is cramped due to the myriad of tools hanging from the walls. And now a thick layer of silvery powder of arcweave dust covers some of them.

Heaps of raw materials litter the room. Boxes loaded with plates and beams of arcweave, others with old polysynth boards and tangled wires, evidence of the countless repairs and projects Job has carried out over the years. The distinct smell of sizzling hot plasma, twisted arcweave and fused circuits lingers in the air.

Satisfied I’m alone, I uncover my dangerous treasure. The Klendathian mask. Xandors mask. It glares at me through black, slanted, accusing eyes. Holding the heavy object sends chills down my spine as a sense of wrongness settles over me. For a split second, I consider returning it. The rest of Xandor’s repaired armor lies on a bench behind me. I could replace the mask, slip it back into the ensemble, and none would be the wiser.

But I need to escape.

Fear clenches my gut as I grit my teeth, hardening my resolve. I set the real mask aside, applying my plasma grinder to my project as I watch the impossible heat soften and warp the metal arcweave plate. Once I’m content that it’s malleable enough, I shape by applying more pressure, attempting to mold sweeping curves that resemble Xandors mask. The process is tricky, as I’m more accustomed to bolting thick plates to the hull for repairs, not shaping and sculpting.

For hours I work shaping and molding, in the deep sleeping hours of the ship, praying no one discovers what I’m doing. Frantic need compels me as I compare the two masks side by side, making more adjustments as needed, until my fake creation resembles the real one. I exhale, wiping the sweat from my brow, examining the counterfeit mask, testing its hefty weight in my hands. It feels solid, although the eyes look a little off... but it should be enough to fool Xandor, at least until I can sell the real mask and disappear like a faded shadow within the station.

The appearance of Xandor during the briefing was terrifying, not knowing if he was coming for me and his mask. Witnessing his fury at Triandale prompted me to escape the room, my mind racing with doubts and fears. If Kaanus drags me along to this scoomer deal before I can disappear, it’s almost certain Xandor will pursue us for his mask, and I can’t take that chance. Not when I’m so close to my freedom.

Approaching Xandor’s massive suit of thick, smooth arcweave plates, I brush my hand over the cool, hard metal. When he wears this, he seems more like a titanic avatar of war than a real person. Memories of him darting through the Mutalisk attacks like a hero from some legend send a flutter of excitement through me. But in this tale, I’m the monster, and he’s coming to slay me. Examining the belt area, I attach the fake mask to the dangling latches.

With haste, I exit Job’s workshop, stiffing a yawn as I search for a safe place to rest beneath the gangway. Now I can steal a few hours of slumber before my fate is decided tomorrow.

I awaken with a start, my fingers ache with the strain of clutching Xandors real mask in a white-knuckled grip. Glancing at my wrist console, I gasp in shock; it’s close to afternoon. It won’t be long until we dock at the station and I still need to gather some belongings. Pushing against the gangway grate, it slides over with a grinding scrape as I wince at the noise. Without hesitation, I leap out of the tunnel, rushing toward my bunk.

The crew quarters lie empty, a relief as I step over the piles of dirty clothes and Nutripaste packets. Retrieving a satchel from my container that’s nestled into the wall beside my bunk. Sweeping clothes into the bag as my heart pounds in my chest, as the surreal thought that I’ll never see this place ever again, settles in. As long as I can remember, I’ve lived aboard this ship, but now it no longer fits me. I’ve outgrown it, and it’s outgrown me.

I don’t belong here.

Deep within my satchel, I bury Xandor’s mask, hoping the folds of my clothes will conceal my crime. As a creeping sense of dread rattles my nerves. Am I doing the right thing? What if Omega Flux Station is worse than this ship? Uncertain, I rub my hidden locket, the smoothness a welcome balm, something familiar amongst this sea of unpredictability.

The entrance door slides open, interrupting my thoughts and I startle with increasing breaths. Triandale’s looping head appears through the opening before he enters, his great height almost too much for the gateway. I exhale at his presence, glad it’s not someone more dangerous.

Triandale regards me with a curious look. He looks ominous, armored in his black arcweave uniform and carrying his strange long-barreled rifle slung over his shoulder. He rarely carried his weapon until the Klendathians boarded. Now he’s never apart from it.

The backpack he carries catches my eye. “Planning your own trip, Triandale?” I ask, nodding at him. The sight reminds me of my escape plan.

Triandale bristles at my question, a flash of surprise widening his runny eyes. “This?” He pats his backpack. “Mere ammunition and spare weapons. You can never be too careful with these...trade deals,” he shakes his head with disdain, swaying the tentacles on his face.

Was I the only fool who didn’t know we smuggled drugs?

He draws nearer, his head curving closer. “How goes your... preparations?” Triandale’s drawl accompanies the tilt of his head, his eyes flicking to my satchel.

I study him, unease crawling along my skin. Triandale is the sole member of the crew who knows of my intentions, but still questions and inquiry threaten to cast light over my comforting shadows. “They... they go well,” I stammer, watching for any hint of danger. “Just packing the last of my things.”

Better to be vague.

He retracts his head, straightening, almost brushing the ceiling as a smile curls his mouth. “You don’t need to hide from me, little Tyrxie. I will not harm you. Now tell me...” he pauses to loop his head backwards, glancing at the entrance “About the savage’s masks?” he finishes after turning his gaze back.

The mere mention of the mask shakes my hands with anxious panic, my resolve already threadbare. “The... the masks? I have one... Xandor’s,” I say with a struggle, as if speaking the words solidifies my terrible guilt in the universe.

Triandale’s head curls closer to me again, his runny eyes narrowing. “Only one?” he responds, his usual slow pace now increased. “One may not be enough... To secure your future with prosperity.” He turns his back, stroking a lanky, thick-textured hand through his face tentacles. “If you could retrieve the other two. Well then, you could live like a high merchant queen,” he says, each word a dangerous, alluring promise delivered with agonizing slowness.

Safety is more important than riches.

Annoyance and fear flare within me, causing my voice to rise. “You’re quick to volunteer me to risk my life, Triandale. It’s a miracle I got this one, and that Xandor hasn’t come looking for it yet!” My words spill from my lips in a torrent, but I can’t stop. “And who am I supposed to sell this thing to, anyway? Yell at the top of my lungs, declaring my crime throughout the merchant quarters?”

Triandale turns in a languid pace, his tentacles flutter as he spreads his arms out. “You commit no crime, Tyrxie, but the smallest nano-fraction of a wrong being righted.” He stiffens as his hands curl into fists. “Seek the Gorgon’s Wrath gang on tier three of the station. Ask for Katarian, an old colleague of mine.”

A gang? This is becoming too dangerous.

Panic clenches my heart in its icy grasp. I’m too exposed doing this, meeting gangs, negotiating scoomer deals, while maybe hunted by Xandor and his terrifying Klendathian soldiers. I belong hidden, moving unseen. That’s how I’ve always survived. “This is too dangerous, Triandale. I can’t do this,” I plead as my eyes find his, searching for any understanding.

Clutching my bag, I search for the mask as my mind swims in frantic turmoil. “Void this. I’m going to return his mask.”

Until Triandale closes the distance, resting elongated fingers on my shoulder. “You can’t turn back now, Tyrxie. The Klendathian will smell your scent on his mask. They are predators, merciless hunters. That’s why you must continue to help me stop them.” His voice carries concern.

I shake my head at his words as the walls close in, trapping me in this crushing situation. Despair and fear steal my wits and send my body to trembling. “I just want to be safe... not hurt anyone,” I say my voice but a whisper.

He looms over me, coiling his head down to my height, his eyes peering into mine. “You’re an innocent girl, Tyrxie, who suffers like me. We both know what it means to lose loved ones. Stolen from us through death and violence. I know the pain that lives in your hearts. It’s the same pain that haunts my dreams,” he says, with a fast tone, squeezing my shoulder.

Loved ones?

“You stand at the precipice of your freedom, but drastic change requires drastic action. One moment of courage, one act of bravery and all this will be over, a distant unpleasant memory fading into the void,” he finishes, straightening once again.

Silence hangs heavy in the air as my mind struggles to make sense of it all. He’s right, I must be strong if I’m to change my destiny. With a deep exhale, my resolve reaffirmed, my eyes find Triandale’s. “I’ll do it,” I affirm.

He nods with a smile, his tentacles fluttering. “Good girl, I knew you had it in you.”

Our wrist consoles blink and vibrate in perfect sync, stealing my attention. “The Captain invites anyone who wants to view the docking procedure to the bridge,” Triandale says with such slowness I’ve already read the message myself.

Excitement surges through me at the thought. Observing the wonders of space and the unique, interesting starships is one of the few things I enjoy. However, daring to view it meant going to the bridge, risking being seen, especially by Hyanxa.

But today is different.

Today marks the beginning of a new chapter in my life, one that might take me away from space travel for a long period. “Are you coming with me?” I ask, gesturing towards the towering Triandale, who shakes his head indicating no. “If we don’t speak again, Triandale, I just want to say thanks for everything.” I nod towards him with respect.

Triandale performs a deep bow, surprising me. “Farewell, lost one. May the stars guide your journey.” His runny, sad eyes regard me with intensity. Smiling at him as I leave the room, I could swear tears are streaming down his cheeks.

I stride towards the bridge with a boldness I’ve never processed. A fierce determination and resolve burn within me, spurred by my imminent freedom and Triandale’s inspiring words. Hazy recycled air that carries a faint metallic scent waft, almost obscuring the dim lights. But soon, I’ll breathe the fresh air of liberation.

Can Triandale be trusted?

The question gnaws at the back of my mind like an old rusty arcweave plate spreading corrosion. It’s obvious he seeks his own revenge against the Klendathians. Are his actions justified? I have no answer. I’ve never had the luxury to contemplate history and ethics, only my survival. But there’s a shared genuine sorrow etched on Triandale’s face, mirroring my own, and we both seek the same thing for different reasons.

A pang of trepidation blooms within me, standing before the bridge room. I suppress it with a deep breath, stepping through the entrance as the door swooshes open. Hyanxa has an arm wrapped around Captain Kaanus’ waist, their gazes fixed on the vast expanse of space beyond. They are the only two occupants, as I expected.

The breathtaking viewport, where stars pirouette and shimmer against the backdrop of the deepest cosmic canvas, draws my attention. Amidst this celestial ballet, a colossal structure commands the center stage, its magnificence growing with each passing heartbeat. A towering white crystal column rises, its surface aglow with a mesmerizing brilliance that rivals the stars themselves, casting a radiant contrast against the infinite darkness of space.

This stunning column serves as the backbone for three tiers of platforms, similar to the majestic rings of a planet, yet adorned with a protective dome that glimmers with an ethereal green light. As my gaze traces the length of the structure, the rings widen with each tier, creating a sense of grandeur and scale that defies comprehension. Even from this distance, I am captivated by the pulsating rhythm of the green domes, their luminosity flickering and dancing in harmony with the passage of vessels through their shimmering portals.

“What are you doing here, you strange-looking bitch!” Hyanxa words slice through the air, her seething hatred tearing me away from the beautiful spectacle I crave.

I’m so stupid, this is too dangerous!

Recoiling in shock at her venomous aggression, I stammer, “I... I—”

“She was invited, like the others. Tyrxie’s a full member of the crew now,” Kaanus interjects, putting a placating hand on Hyanxa’s shoulder as he smiles, but it never touches his blank, white eyes.

Hyanxa bristles at his words, peering up into his face, a look of disbelief twisting her scarred expression. “Void’s sake, Kaanus, you’re a fool to trust her.” She turns to me, her snarl revealing sharp fangs. “Little cunt, we should have sold you years ago.”

“Silence!” Kaanus’ smile evaporates, dissolved by a trembling fury that sharpens my senses to an anxious edge. “We’re not slavers! Do you still not understand that, after all these years?” His roar reverberates through the cramped bridge.

Hyanxa remains defiant when I would have already run. “You believe whatever it is, you want Kaanus,” she sneers back at him, her short brown fur bristling. “What I believe is you’re letting your dick do the thinking.”

Kaanus’ blue tinted scales shimmer with rage as he looms, menacing over Hyanxa. Then he lashes out with a ferocious strike that echoes with a deafening slap against the Jungarian’s scarred cheek. The brutal force carries her to the cold metal floor in a heap. “You ungrateful bitch, you just don’t listen, do you?” He bellows, his voice filled with betrayal and hurt as Hyanxa cowers beneath him, tears streaming down her face.

The blood rushes through my ears like a molten torrent, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. This savage scene is one I’ve become familiar with. Despite Hyanxa’s cruel torments, a pang of sympathy tugs at my heart as I witness her suffering. But fear conquers all as I turn like a coward, darting out of the bridge as quick as I can.

I am a coward.

I flee, my footsteps echoing in the corridor, accompanied by Hyanxa’s muffled cries that seem to chase me down the passageway. Yet, no matter how fast I run, I can’t escape the haunting sound that plagues my dreams. Only the voice is different.

Finding refuge beneath the gangway near the crew quarters, I seek solace in the darkness, feeling an uneasy calm settle over me as I clutch my locket. With each stroke, my breathing steadies, and I find a fleeting sense of peace amidst the turmoil.

Before long, the ship tilts as the constant thrum of the engines diminishes. The Captain must be getting ready to dock. I wish this ship had another viewport away from Hyanxa and Kaanus, somewhere safe, where I could watch the stars twist and bend as we travel in hyperspeed. And marvel at the array of starships buzzing around us. Each vessel would be different from the last, carrying hopes of discovering my people’s past and maybe a safer future.

The Mutalisk’s Hammer shifts more aggressively now, forcing me to steady myself against the grates above. The sound of the stabilizers thrusting into action is an indication that Captain Kaanus is adjusting, straightening the ship for landing. A roaring sound that vibrates the walls is almost deafening as I hold my breath with nervous anticipation. Until a sudden, crunching jolt reverberates through the hull, followed by complete silence. It can mean only one thing; we have docked at Omega Flux Station.

It won’t be long now until I’m finally safe.