14. Tyrxie

Chapter 14

Tyrxie

Omega

S oon I will be free.

I am lost in my thoughts as I stand amidst the cargo hold. “Tiny, you not count these?” Quad’s booming voice shatters my joyous thoughts. He carries two massive crates in his many arms. Looking even more enormous than usual, clad in his formidable black arcweave armor, resembling a heavy biped tank.

My heart pounds in my chest. I’m so close to executing my plan now. I dare not make my intentions too obvious until the right moment presents itself. Then I will slip away, unnoticed, fading into the shadows. “Pfft, you very slow today!” Quad spits, causing me to flinch as globs of his saliva spray over me.

Lovely.

Wiping my sodden face with one hand, I scan his crates with my wrist console, adding them to the trade tally. Quad taps his feet, waiting for me to finish, while I ponder in silence which of these containers holds the illegal scoomer. “That’s the last of them,” I announce with relief, surveying the sparse cargo hold.

“You blind, Tiny. You forget those.” Quad nods towards the last heap of Klendathian wooden crates in the corner.

Before I can respond, the cargo hold entrance whooshes open, revealing the rest of the crew. All of them carry their weapons and are armored in black arcweave. A fearsome looking group, except for Job and Mod, who both look a touch uncomfortable.

Kaanus strides forward, a bundle clutched in his scaled hands. “Those crates are borack meat. With the Nebia blockade, they’ll be worth a fortune there,” he explains, a smile playing on his lips. It’s a stark contrast to the last time I saw his face contorted with rage as he attacked Hyanxa. “Put this on Tyrxie,” he commands, offering me the package.

“Thanks,” I mutter, accepting the heavy bundle, noticing its arcweave armor, the same as the others are wearing. Without hesitation, I throw the weighted vest over my head, struggling to squeeze into it.

Kaanus approaches. “Let me help you,” he offers, his powerful hands yank the armor into place. But his fingers linger, stroking my midsection and arms, making unnecessary adjustments that cause me to recoil as my skin crawls. “As the newest member of Mutalisk’s Hammer, you should be armored.”

Only a little further now.

I give a brief nod, averting my gaze from his unsettling smile and his unreadable eyes. “Congratulations, Tiny!” Quad’s booming voice interrupts, his face beaming as he marches down the docking hatch ramp.

Kaanus and the others waste no time following, as I twist and turn, adjusting to the sensation of my new hefty armor. Triandale, towering above the rest, gives me a knowing look as he passes by.

As a group, we march down the ramp, our boots thudding against the cold, hard metal. Even now the new atmosphere brushes my senses, the recycled air cleaner, the lack of the humid, sticky feeling on the skin. Its lightness is like an oppressive stifling I forgot was even there, lifting from my shoulders.

“We wait for giant mammaloid Klendathians, added protection? No?” Mod’s voice breaks the silence, his narrow head swiveling among the group.

Triandale scoffs, but it’s Kaanus who responds. “No, we can only trust each other,” he answers, omitting that Xandor might object to being part of an illegal scoomer trade.

Hyanxa strides beside Kaanus, her face shows swelling from their earlier altercation, although the bruising remains hidden beneath her brown fur. The self-destructive, fierce loyalty she has for him is a brutal and impressive feat of endurance, so much so I can’t help but wonder if she should make her own escape.

Meanwhile, down the ramp, Quad loads the final two crates onto an advanced carrier. Despite the weight of almost all our cargo, it hovers above the ground with ease, emitting a strange soft hum. I can’t help but look upward, towards the marvels that adorn this space station.

The expanse of space unfolds before me, a mesmerizing tapestry of twinkling stars and distant galaxies. Above us, a translucent ethereal green shield stretches across the vastness, filtering the cosmic radiance and bathing the surroundings in a soothing, emerald glow.

As I marvel at the spectacle, a flurry of colorful drones weave with grace through the air, capturing my attention. Each one emits a bright aura, their vibrant hues blending with the ambient green light to create a kaleidoscope of colors. I watch with awe as the drones coordinate their movements with remarkable precision, forming intricate patterns and symbols in the air.

A collective gasp escapes our lips as the drones converge, their movements synchronized in perfect harmony. They form a message in the universal language of galactic basic: “Welcome Mutalisk’s Hammer.” The words hang suspended in the air, a dazzling and impressive display.

“So pretty!” Quad exclaims, clapping his hands.

“Don’t let the prettiness fool you. Those little bastards act as biometric image capturers and defense drones.” However, Hyanxa’s cynical remark brings a sobering reality to the enchanting scene.

Can I hide amongst these lights?

Despite the warning, I still marvel as the starships come and go from the bustling Omega Flux Station outside the green domes. Like graceful giants navigating through a cosmic dance. Each one boasts its own unique design and configuration, adorned with gleaming hulls and intricate patterns that reflect the diversity of civilizations across the galaxy. Some ships are sleek and streamlined, while others are bulkier and more imposing.

“Look, that’s an Argorian Starcruiser!” Kaanus shouts with excitement, pointing towards a sleek vessel adorned with sharp angles bristling with cannons. “I nearly bought one until I found out the cargo hold is voiding tiny,” he chuckles.

“Who is the captain of this vessel?” A monotone voice emits from one of the nearby drones, startling us all.

“Uh... That would be me,” Kaanus responds with uncertainty, twisting to find the source of the voice. “Captain Kaanus of the Mutalisk’s Hammer, to be exact,” he adds, performing a deep bow with a flourish of his long coat, playing the role of the gracious captain now.

“Please follow the drone.” The voice, while monotone, has enough variance to convince me it’s not artificial intelligence. “Bring any trade goods for inspection.”

Kaanus and Hyanxa exchange uneasy glances, doubt evident on their faces. “Void this. Let’s turn back,” Hyanxa suggests, her voice laced with concern.

“No, my love,” Kaanus counters, shaking his spikey head. “I can handle this, trust me,” he says with confidence that surprises me. How many times have we had our trade goods inspected and I’ve been oblivious to the danger? As my hands tremble, now I almost regret knowing the truth.

Would imprisonment on Omega Flux Station be preferable to life aboard the Mutalisk’s Hammer?

With a sense of foreboding, I watch as a drone hovers before us, its entire outer casing glows with an iridescence now dimmed. “Quad, bring the cargo,” Kaanus commands, pointing towards the hover platform. “And for void’s sake, let me do the talking,” he adds, looking at the entire crew. “That goes for all of you.”

In an eerie silence laden with nervous tension, we follow the drone, wondering if someone will soon discover our scoomer. Only the enthralling spectacle of the splendors surrounding me helps soothe my racing mind and trembling hands. The white floor is paved in purest stone and extends as far as the eye can see on either side. Coupled with the expanse of space overhead, I have the surreal feeling that I’m standing on the rings of a planet exposed to the cosmos.

The colorful drones overhead continue to dart around, while other drones on the ground move in synchronized patterns, emitting short green beams to clean the area. I gasp as a crystal white structure looms before us, refactoring and reflecting the countless lights of the iridescent drones, bathing the expanse with impossible colors that dance and sparkle.

It’s too bright here for me.

Drawing closer, the crystal white structure is more like a formidable wall or protective barrier that extends the entire circumference of the ring. Its sheer size is staggering, stretching beyond the limits of my sight as if constructed by some cosmic deity. A sense of foreboding wells in me as I take it in. I wonder what beings would surround themselves with such purity. Those with noble intentions or a disguise for the darkest of hearts?

Our group comes to a halt before the colossal crystal wall, its flawless surface unmarred by any imperfection or feature. “Wall must have entrance? No?” Mod puzzles with arm limbs under his mouth. As if in answer, a large square section slides open with such sudden movement. I recoil behind Quad in surprise.

The guide drone hovers into the towering crystal expanse. “Please follow.” It emits, with an impatient tone. Stepping inside is more gleaming white and crystal. The brightness is blinding as beams of light sting the eyes, forcing me to avert my gaze. “Wait here for inspection,” the voice intones. And as my sight clears, I notice dozens of floating drones surround us. These fill me with dread, different from the colorful ones, sleek discs shapes encased in hard white arcweave and bristling with weapons of an unknown type.

Triandale approaches a drone with languid motion, his head curling to inspect it. “Pulsar technology, we must tread carefully,” he explains with his unique slowness.

“Hands off the defense unit, please,” the same male voice from the drone demands, except it’s spoken from an actual flesh-and-blood being, or at least appears to be. On the opposite side of the crystal expanse, an opening materializes, revealing the speaker, their identity concealed by the Iridescent armored suit complete with sweeping helmet, and a strange rifle holstered on his leg plate.

Entering, flanked by more of these ‘defense units,’ the inspector examines the holographic projection from his wrist console. “Let’s see, Mutalisk’s Hammer, is it?” he asks, his tone dripping with boredom.

Job bristles shaking his narrow head, “You know this, written in gaudy lights. Yes?” he responds, his eager, quick tone at odds with our inspector.

The inspector exhales in frustration. “If I had a credit for each time someone said that, I could buy this station. The drones operate on their own protocol. I have my own records to maintain,” he retorts, lifting his head towards Job, but only the bored contempt in his voice gives a clue to his thoughts. “Now, this shouldn’t take long, with such a small cargo, thankfully.”

Kaanus stiffens at his words. “Small cargo? This is almost the full hold of an Argorian class C transport ship second generation!” he interjects, gesturing towards the loaded hover platform that Quad pushes with ease.

“Uh Huh... One hover platform, not even at full capacity,” the inspector shakes his head. “How were you not sent to the residential tier with this meager haul?” The question seems rhetorical so no one answers.

His hands navigate his wrist console projection with ease, as small drones come to life, buzzing around, scanning the crates and barrels in eerie green lights. “Anything to declare? Special exemptions? All goods must comply with the Omega Flux Syndicate Council. Please take a moment to consult the prohibited lists,” he drawls.

Our wrist console vibrates with a notification. As the drones continue to scan our goods, Hyanxa exchanges a worried look with Kaanus, who appears more annoyed than fearful. My heart pounds in my chest, wondering if this is it, the moment we get arrested for illegal smuggling. I check the prohibited list on my console with the vain hope scoomer might not be there. But the word ‘scoomer’ buried within the enormous catalogue confirms my fears.

They know our sins and we can’t escape.

As my eyes continue scanning, it becomes apparent that almost everything might be on this extensive list, expanding my holographic projection further and further. The words are still minuscule, continuing forever. Do they expect anyone to remember all this?

I notice sly Mod moving a vial from his belt and slipping it into one of Quad’s pockets, scattered around his trousers. As Quad scratches his green bald head, a look of confusion spreads over his deep-set features. “Scoomer?” he bellows out with such loudness that we all wince, even startling the inspector. Time seems to slow as my blood rushes through my ears, pondering how out of the near-infinite words on the list, he chooses that one.

“You have something to declare, Barlyxian?” The inspector steps towards Quad, his voice no longer as disinterested as before.

Kaanus interjects the blue tint on his gray scales, almost as vivid as the gleaming, radiant crystal walls now. “Ignore my simple friend,” he gestures towards Quad, who is still thumbing through his own projection. “He’s prone to fits of fancy.”

The inspector holds up an armored hand for silence directed at Kaanus. “Barlyxian, answer me,” he demands with a heightened firmness now, as many defense drones whirl around us. Drawing my gaze is the exit leading deeper into the station. I contemplate making a dash. Could I make it before being caught? Only the open expanse and lack of shadows dissuade me.

Quad turns, peering down at the inspector with a broad grin on his face. “Scoomer, is stuff between toes?” he inquires with a look of complete seriousness etched on his expression. “How can toes be banned?”

The inspector’s shoulders slump as he sighs in exasperation. “I tried to warn you,” Kaanus offers, his tone now laced with sympathy, a stark contrast to the panic that had gripped us moments before.

“I’m too old for this voiding crap,” the inspector mutters beneath his breath, his words almost inaudible. The smaller drones emitting the green light over our goods halt and float away, prompting him to check his wrist console once again. “Seems your goods are in order. Please enjoy your stay...” he pauses, glancing between the defense drones with a heavy sigh. “At Omega Flux Station, where all your cosmic dreams become reality, may the flux be with you,” he delivers the canned message with all the enthusiasm of a broken polysynth board.

As the intimidating drones and the inspector disperse, clearing our path. Our party continues through the crystal tunnel through the wall, smothered in a crackling tense silence that electrifies the air. This area, too, is sparse with white-paved stone stretching out for what seems like infinity. However, dotted throughout are immense machines, lumbering like metal titans, processing and carrying megatons of raw materials and supplies on a scale that leaves me awestruck.

“Quad, I don’t know if I should shoot you or hug you. You big, dumb, bastard!” Kaanus exclaims, with excitement now we’ve distanced ourselves from the inspector. He turns to the entire crew, a smile beaming on his face. “We voiding did it! Well, done,” he finishes, pumping his scaled fist.

“Big but not dumb,” Quad protests, nodding his head. “And no hugs, only bashing,” he adds, pumping his meaty fists together, creating an ominous sound because of his heavy armor.

“The only bashing we’ll be doing is on our wrist console, spending our credits,” Kaanus laughs, his joy infectious, yet I do not share in it, as my eyes dart, searching for an opportunity to make my escape. The next obstacle to cross, barring my way to freedom, the thought fills me with anxious breaths.

“How come the drones never found the scoomer?” I interject, a sudden curiosity prompts me to speak as I never discovered where it’s being stored.

Hyanxa’s sneer carries venom, her words laced with malice. “Announce our crime louder, you stupid little bitch.” But her verbal assault has little effect on me, my mind already set on edge with the imminent danger looming ahead.

Kaanus waves a dismissive hand at Hyanxa. “Let’s just say Quad is a very valuable asset right now,” he chuckles, looking at Quad, who plods forward, oblivious to most things.

As we press on toward the colossal central crystal column, which stands as the radiant spine of this station, the surroundings morph into a more industrial landscape. Immense white metal structures dominate the area, venting gasses and belching exhausts which distort the air. Flames erupt on a grand scale adding to the spectacle, while colossal machines roar with activity handling vast quantities of materials. It’s as if we’ve stumbled upon a cosmic-scale processing plant, yet the exact purpose of these operations remains shrouded in mystery.

Is it possible to hide from machines?

“Psst.” A sound like a znat buzzes amongst the deafening crashes of immense industrial activity, interrupts my thoughts.

“You listen? Yes?” Job’s voice startles me as I notice he’s leaning in from behind. “You use fleshy bits. You make Captain listen. We need new parts. Yes?” he asks, his antenna waving near my face in excitement.

I sigh at his constant insistence and accusations. Job’s persistence about acquiring replacement parts for the ship borders on the fanatical, especially anytime we get near a trader. And he seems to think I have some sway over the Captain. The same Captain, who only a few days passed, beat me.

But he does lust after me. I could control him... for a price.

I crush the dark, treacherous thought, full of danger and distaste. It will all be irrelevant soon. “Yes Job, I’ll do just that,” I lie through my teeth, hoping to stave off his inevitable complaints.

“Really?” Job’s exclamation is one of shock. “Yes? You ask for twenty-six polysynth boards. Equipped with Nexus nine bypass—” he continues droning on, but I’ve already stopped listening.

The industrial sector recedes as many smaller structures appear and the thong of voices engaged in trade and conversations reach my ears. Alien species from all over the galaxies mingle, their garbs as different as the colorful nebulas in the cosmos. Argorians make up the majority, followed by Jungarians and Glaseroids. Yet none look as strange as me.

Except for Xandor and the Klendathians.

Such a silly thought, I am lost and alone. In the open spaces between the buildings, bustling auctions display large green projections of various goods for attendees to bid over. The milling of the crowd becomes disorienting. So many voices, so many beings all together, almost overwhelm my senses. I’m uncomfortable with this level of exposure, with so many eyes on me. Indeed, many stare at me with boldness, their eyes full of wonder, others with disdain. I’m strange and ugly to them.

For a moment, I fear I might faint as my vision blurs and my legs wobble, so overcome with all the activity that assaults my senses. Until Triandale places a steadying hand on my shoulder, snapping my focus back. “Stay strong, Lost One,” he reassures, his drooping tentacles fluttering. I take a moment, leaning on him to catch my breath and settle my wits.

“Hurry up, you two!” Kaanus calls back, waving, his voice almost lost among the din of the crowds. Prompting me to hurry to catch up with the others. The open auction areas give way to white paved lanes full of markets and stalls, as far as the eye can see. The crowds here are even thicker, forcing our group to push and shove through the throng. How can such a place exist? My heart races as my eyes dart, trying to process all the noise and alien beings.

Ahead, noisy holographic projections extend from the buildings, advertising every good and service the galaxies have to offer. These structures range from single story inviting eateries to massive towering constructions that stretch almost to the tier above. Most structures are colored in white, made from white stone, or the mesmerizing crystal mirroring the central structure of the station. A sense of relief fills me. Noticing this commercial area has many shadows, places to get lost in, places to hide.

Nestled between two extensive buildings lies a narrow, dark alley that beckons. Rubbing my locket as my breathing becomes erratic. Is this the right time? My chance to get lost, my chance at freedom? I inch forward, toeing the threshold of possibility.

Until a powerful hand wrenches me from my contemplation, spinning me around with a force that sets my senses reeling, the blood pumping through my veins as if powered by Elerium. “Hey don’t get lost on me,” Kaanus says, grinning down at me. “Come on, we’re over here.” With an almost coercive pull, he steers me towards the rest of our crew, who are marching through the less crowded labyrinthine streets and alleys through the commercial sector.

“I want to shift our... special merchandise first. It’s making me nervous. Then we’ll trade the rest,” Kaanus declares, his words slicing through the dim atmosphere as we rejoin the others. This area is darker and silent compared to the rest. The massive buildings casting long shadows, obscuring the dazzling green field and the dancing iridescent drones above. It’s a moment of respite, allowing me to regain my bearings.

“Where’s Triandale?” Kaanus’ voice betrays a hint of apprehension, his gaze scanning the surroundings in search of the towering figure of our Gorglaxian companion.

We all pause together, scanning the surroundings, yet the towering and skinny Gorglaxian is nowhere to be found. The realization dawns upon me. His strange sincere words, his insistence on the Klendathian masks, his heavy backpack. He was saying goodbye, planning his own escape. But where my desire for escape is for safety. His desire is a thirst for vengeance.

“For void’s sake! Wasn’t he just with you?” Kaanus asks, his blank white eyes directed at me, demanding an answer.

“He... he was, but he vanished,” I stutter, careful not to betray the extent of my knowledge.

A furrow creases Kaanus’ brow, while Hyanxa snarls, pointing an accusing finger at me, leaving me bristling with unease. “You’re a voiding useless bitch. Can’t even keep track of a giant standing right beside you.”

“There... there were so many people. I’m sorry,” I plead; my demeanor veiled in contrition.

Hyanxa spits turning to Kaanus. “You buy this crap?” She waves a dismissive hand in my direction. “Something’s up, we should cancel this trade. I can sense it in my fur.”

Kaanus looks in my direction, his unreadable eyes weighing me for what feels like an eternity. “Yeah... Tyrxie up front with me, no more sneaking off,” he beckons to me. With a sinking heart, I agree, each step forward, feeling like a descent into an inescapable abyss. “A dangerous trade without our Security Officer, voiding nightmare,” he shakes his spikey head as I approach with tentative steps.

Have I missed my one chance to flee?

“Don’t worry, I protect you all!” Quad bellows as he slams his four powerful fists together, the sound echoing off the surrounding looming buildings.

We continue in silence through the labyrinthine streets, towards the heart of the station. The great crystal central spine of the station towers in front of us, like a cosmic shard birthed from a divine entity. It’s so wide and tall it dwarfs everything, ever. Embedded into the structure are countless lifts shuttling up and down between the tiered rings.

“We’re heading down to the residential tier. Keep your wits about you,” Kaanus recommends, his stance firm as he brandishes his plasma rifle. A seam in the colossal mega-structure parts before us, revealing a narrow platform aglow with ethereal luminescence. With tentative strides, I lead the way, followed by the remaining crew who step inside.

As the lift doors seal shut, a knot tightens in my stomach, and I can’t help but worry about the fate that awaits me.