17. Tyrxie

Chapter 17

Tyrxie

Residential

T he lift hurtles through the crystal spire, which forms the beating heart of Omega Flux Station. Dazzling hues flash and meld at an incredible speed as they whizz past us. The effect should mesmerize, but I only experience a trembling nauseousness which threatens my resolve as I’m tempted to return to the ship in meek surrender.

Trapped in space alone until the day I die.

A tense silence permeates the cramped enclosure, our limited space consumed by Quad and his hover platform loaded with trade goods from Klendathor. But it’s the scoomer hidden on Quad’s person, which we are traveling to sell, somewhere on the residential tier. A trade that has the Captain and Hyanxa on edge. Both stand, inspecting their weapons with serious expressions, prompting me to do the same.

Examining my arcweave pistol, the black metal gleams in the iridescent light, yet the weapon is less than inspiring. Its narrow chamber is evidence of its meager caliber and limited ammunition capacity. My trusty knife hangs at my waist, but what good is a blade if serious trouble occurs?

Job’s antennae twitches and flutters as his beady eyes scan our actions. I assume he’s thinking the same as me, as he retrieves a... plasma grinder from his jacket. What did he bring that for? His skittering arms make quick adjustments, tweaking settings and separating the nozzle from its body.

“This trade, like one on Terminus Exile Station? Yes?” Job inquires, his focus fixed on his modifications.

Kaanus shudders, his scales shimmering amongst the dancing light. “I hope not, Job. But like I said, be prepared for anything,” he replies with a glance towards me, a look of surprise spreading over his face. “Is that all you have, Tyrxie, a tiny pistol?” he asks.

I twirl the weapon on my finger before holstering it in a smooth motion. “Yeah, but I’m an excellent shot.”

Hyanxa scoffs, her tone potent acid. “This isn’t targeting practice in Triandale’s armaments store.” She twirls her own two boxy-shaped automatic guns with short barrels before leveling them at me. “If real fighting starts, you’ll soil yourself like the frightened little bitch I know you are.” I recoil at her words and the menacing gleam in her golden eyes as she continues to aim her guns at me.

She knows me too well and I hate her for it.

“Give her one of your guns, my love,” Kaanus commands, gesturing towards me with his own bulky plasma rifle that sizzles and hums with ominous intent.

“Void that! I’m not wasting my gun on the useless bitch,” Hyanxa retorts, her disdain dripping from every word like venom.

Kaanus releases a deep sigh in response, but he doesn’t push further, and I expect no less. Meanwhile, I notice out of the corner of my eye Mod reaching for his vial of oil, which he had hidden earlier in Quad’s trousers with a sly hand. Quad appears oblivious, humming to himself as Mod’s deft hand slides the jar out, his beady eyes locked with laser focus.

Mod breathes a sigh of relief as he clutches his prize within his many arm limbs, before retrieving the Venomizer hidden within his long coat. He loads the vial with haste, into the canister with twitching limbs and excited twirling antennae. He halts as he notices me staring. “Maybe chance to experiment with toxins. No?”

I just want to escape.

I nod with eyes downcast, hoping I can sneak off before this dangerous trade can take place. The jarring halting of the lift steals my attention as the radiant doors slide open to reveal an expansive area unlike the second tier.

This immense space lacks the blinding lights from the countless illuminating drones from the previous tier. As I scan overhead at the green protective dome, I can only see a handful of the darting drones.

Colossal buildings stretch upwards for miles, each an exact replica of the other, spreading out as far as the eye can see. Each structure resembles a white hair upon a cosmic beast’s furry hide. The effect takes my breath away, not because of its beauty, but the soul-crushing sameness on a scale I can’t comprehend. The residents express their agreement by adorning each pale building with vibrant graffiti, the only color in the sea of blandness.

“Voiding void!” Kaanus exclaims as his unreadable white eyes scan the oppressive surroundings. “This is going to be like finding a working brain cell in Quad’s head.”

“Pfft! My head just fine. You, the one that drags us here,” Quad spits out in shocked annoyance, though he is right. This is Kaanus’ fault—It’s almost always his fault.

Kaanus doesn’t respond but casts a nervous glance beyond the lift to the numerous guards dressed in the same glittering multicolored uniforms as the inspector. Hovering near them are the frightening weapon drones that buzz and twitch, all facing towards the nauseating expanse of sameness.

However, they only question and inspect those who seek to exit this tier, not those entering. “Come, they won’t bother us,” Kaanus reassures, echoing my thoughts. As he strides forward, his attention is fixed on his wrist console. In his distraction, he forgets to keep me close, filling me with a sense of relief. I slow my pace, hoping to blend into the surroundings and slip away unnoticed into this sea of repetition.

They could never find me here, like endless mirrors reflecting on themselves.

Yet, Hyanxa dashes my budding hopes as she seizes me by the upper arm with her rough hands. “Come here, you sneaky little bitch,” she snarls down at me, her grip tight as she drags me along beside Kaanus, squashing any chance of evading their watchful eyes. “Up front where I can see you.”

“Yeah Tyrxie, it’s dangerous around here,” Kaanus remarks, still engrossed by his wrist console.

More dangerous than him?

Hyanxa tosses her head, sending red hair swaying with the motion. “Where the void are we going?” She asks rhetorically, with shifty eyes.

As we travel without direction, the disrepair of the buildings becomes obvious. Cracked walls and broken polymer windows, frame dirty streets littered with rubbish and debris. It’s not long before we attract curious glances from various haggard species watching as we pass. A few eyes dart towards me, accompanied by whispers and shocked expressions. But most look toward our cargo with naked greed plastered on their faces, instilling me with a sense of dread.

Displaying our goods with such boldness is a terrible mistake, like light circling around a black hole. “We’re supposed to meet with the Suns of Omega,” Kaanus answers absentmindedly, still glued to his wrist console, obvious to the escalating tension. “But void if I can get my bearings in this...” he trails off, lifting his gaze. “In this monotony,” he concludes with a sneer of disdain.

Amidst the kaleidoscope of graffiti adorning the crumbling walls, a symbol or logo almost obscured catches my attention. Squinting, I can just make out an image of Omega Flux Station surrounded by stylized suns inlaid with fierce faces. “Is that what you’re looking for?” I ask, gesturing towards the logo.

Kaanus frowns, though I cannot discern with precision where his milky white eyes are focused. After a moment, he laughs. “That’s it, that’s the one. Well, spotted, Tyrxie,” he praises with an eager smile, but it does little to dispel my growing unease.

“Come on, let’s get this trade done.” Hyanxa shifts her eyes over the street, mirroring my apprehension. “Then get the void out of here.”

The closer we draw towards the ominous Suns of Omega logo, the scrutiny intensifies. Curious onlookers peer at us from shadowy alleyways and the countless windows of decrepit buildings. I’m filled with a sense of nervousness which pricks the hairs on the back of my neck. A sticky heat and the lack of wind exacerbates my uncomfortable feeling in this tainted recycled air, causing a light sheen of sweat to cover me.

A sudden commotion behind jolts me to attention. “Get off, little znats!” Quad bellows, his voice laced with irritation. Atop the hover platform, dozens of children of various species laugh as they pull and haul at the trade goods. Some wield broken white paved stone, attempting to smash open the wooden crates.

“Void’s sake! Get off, you little bastards,” Kaanus curses as he rushes to aid Quad, who has four of the squirming brats dangling from each hand that shout and kick, filling the air with chaos.

I rush over to help, grabbing the back of a small Argorian boy dressed in tatty old clothes, pulling him from the crates onto the ground. He yells before righting himself, then kicks me in the shin, causing me to exclaim, more in shock than pain. “Void you! You ugly alien bitch,” his cruel laughter rings out as he flees into the crowd.

Our group wrestles with the aggressive horde of youngsters, yanking them off the platform to the ground. Hyanxa and Kaanus do so with escalating hostility, slamming the youths onto the unforgiving white paved streets. Their victims limp off, clutching injured arms and legs. As I glance around at the growing thong of children, some are now throwing stones in our direction, forcing me to take refuge behind the goods. I fear we may never survive this place without escalating to more violence.

The danger is building; I need to escape.

Kaanus must have the same idea, as he brandishes his hefty plasma rifle, aiming it at the largest concentration of the youths. “Get the void back or I’ll voiding shot you all,” he demands, roaring. But still the chaos ensues as the children lack a leader, only driven by a gleeful greed and mindless menace.

Amidst the confusion, I notice I’m near a dark alleyway that beckons. My chance for escape has never been easier. As my heart pounds in my chest, sending adrenaline swooshing through my veins. I do it! I dash into the passageway, towards my impending freedom.

The cacophony of laughter and taunts fades into the background as I navigate the shadowy lane, relief washing over me as the darkness envelops me like a protective shroud. Until I see a group of males with fierce faces, wearing yellow clothes and brandishing menacing weapons, marching down the alleyway towards the beleaguered crew.

I’m always trapped!

I scan the area with frantic eyes, desperate for an escape. On my left, a door awaits, beckoning with salvation. With panicked breaths, inch by inch, I crawl on my hands and knees, feeling the filth and debris muddy my palms, but it’s worth it to remain hidden. But as my trembling fingers grasp the handle and attempt to wrench it open, a wave of despair washes over me. It’s locked, like my hopes of freedom, barred to me.

The approaching footsteps of the males grow louder, only being huddled within the narrow confines of the doorway, prevents them from noticing me, but in a few moments, that’ll change, and void knows what they’ll do to me. With trembling hands, I fumble for my hypodriver, shoving it into the slender gap beneath the frame and the door, working the tool back and forth.

A wave of dread washes over me, prickling my skin. It’s almost as if I can feel their breath on my neck now. Please, please, please. I plead wiggling my hypodriver with desperation, unsure if what I’m doing is having an effect. “Hey, you. Stop!” a gruff voice demands, spiraling my panic into full-blown terror. From the periphery of my vision, I see them running towards me with weapons raised.

Freedom brings death.

In a frantic bid for survival, I redouble my efforts, the urgency of escape lending strength to my trembling limbs. And then, with a suddenness that threatens to send me sprawling, the door gives way, swinging open to admit me into its sanctuary. With a mad panic, I scramble into the dim interior, finding myself in a corridor decorated in rubbish and graffiti upon the same bland pale paved walls that blight this entire tier.

Doors numbered with faded etchings are littered throughout the corridor, all barred to me as I rush past them in a frenzied dash. “Come on, leave the female,” a voice echoes through the walls, giving me a faint trace of relief. But they might be lulling me into a false sense of security, so I press onward until a stone stairwell appears before me. With urgency, I leap up the steps two at a time, my muscles straining from the exertion.

I lose track of the number of floors I’ve ascended, but as my legs shake with effort and my lungs burn, urging me to stop. Noticing an open window in the corridor overlooking the street, the sound of the crew’s alteration is still playing out below. As I approach the opening, I know I shouldn’t care, I should just keep running and never look back, but still I can’t resist. The temptation is too strong.

Down in the street, Kaanus fires a warning shot from his formidable plasma rifle aimed upward. The sizzling blue bolt casts an ominous azure haze over the area that distorts the air before the weapon’s menacing muzzle aligns with a cluster of youths below. “If you don’t void off, the next one is all yours,” he roars, his blue tinted scales shimmering with rage.

“You would harm the Suns of Omega?” a solemn voice echoes off the paved buildings, as Kaanus and his crew cast glances attempting to find the source. Moments later, from amongst the alleyways, various aliens spill out, dressed in the same yellow armored outfits of the males that almost caught me earlier. They appear raggedy and ill-equipped, many with knives and bats, yet they leer with menacing fearless faces. “But I would expect nothing less from a dirty slaver,” the voice accuses.

Am I a slave?

A footstep followed by a dragging sound repeats and the Suns of Omega part with hushed whispers, revealing a hunched figure draped in a yellow hooded cape obscuring his identity. He shuffles forward, limping with the aid of his silver cane, his face shrouded in shadows.

“I’m no slaver!” Kaanus shouts back with defiance directed at the newcomer. “Where the void is Telik? It’s him I’m here to see.”

“Telik is no more.” The figure stands, his gloved hands resting atop his cane motionless and determined. “He was corrupted by greed, soiling his own Suns of Omega in drug filth.” His accusatory jab punctuates the solemnity of his words. “Telik suffered for his crimes, as you will soon, slaver,” the hooded one accuses his tone grave and level.

At his words, flickers of movement catch my attention. Amongst the windows across the streets, Suns of Omega assume firing positions, their long-barreled rifles leveled towards Kaanus and the crew. My ears fill with the roar of my adrenaline-fueled blood like a tidal wave, as I think about them being caught out in the open, under sniper fire, helpless to the slaughter.

Maybe they deserve to die? Do I deserve to die?

“Stop calling me that!” Kaanus’s voice reverberates with defiance as he points an accusatory finger at the hooded figure, his posture betraying a flicker of uncertainty amidst his scaled visage. “That’s not who I am anymore.”

Rasping coughs rake the hooded figure before he tilts his head. “Not anymore,” he repeats, the bitterness palpable in his voice. “You say, as if this absolves you of your crimes. If only all the pain and suffering you caused could be undone with mere words.” The hooded one paces back and forth, his solemn tone growing more heated. “Maybe then you could be forgiven, but alas, the universe is too cruel for such things.”

Hyanxa intervenes, placing a steadying hand on Kaanus’s chest, urging restraint. Yet, he remains steadfast, a tumult of conflicting emotions etched upon his features—anger, disbelief, and a flicker of guilt. “Who are you?” his tone, slow, laden with uncertainty.

“I am no one, a nameless void emblazoned and etched with the Suns of Omega, the embodiment of their suffering and manifestation of their dreams.” He turns his hooded head back to Kaanus, as he laughs with bitterness. “But to you, and you alone, I am Chorick.” The figure lowers his hood, revealing a Jungarian with patchy black fur, crisscrossed with scars, his ears torn and shredded, his face a canvas of pain and sorrow. “Take a long, hard look at my face. Do you remember me now, slaver?” Chorick sneers.

“Void... Listen, that was a long time ago—” Kaanus says, shaking his head in disbelief.

Chorick’s words cut him off like a blade through the air. “A long time for you, but a daily nightmare for me. Do you remember my sister, Alanya? You raped her, the daily screams of it still haunt me. Then you sold us off to the pits of Shardar. We both were used then, for sport and their.... pleasures.” Chorick’s eyes stare off into the distance as if he’s reliving his harrowing story. “Poor Alanya couldn’t endure it. She was too pure and kind for this universe, so she slit her wrists.” Chorick jolts erect, his face twisted with rage. “What was her life worth, slaver? A polysynth board, a fancy bottle of wine, a new pair of boots?” With a sudden movement, he raises his cane high, the gesture laden with ominous intent.

My heart pounds in my chest, and time appears to slow down. In the windows across the street, the snipers shift, adjusting their aim, peering down their sights. My hand reaches for my pistol in reflex, as a war rages within my mind. I should leave them to their fates. Kaanus deserves it many times over, but the thought of Job, Mod and Quad dying forces my hand and hardens my resolve.

Leveling my pistol at the nearest sniper with a steady hand that defies the tempest of fear churning within, I squeeze the trigger. A satisfying crack reverberates through the air, the recoil rippling through me as the Jungarian sniper’s head falls limp. The echo of my shot rings out across the desolate streets like a perverse bell, signaling the start of a maelstrom of chaos to unfold.

Suns of Omega charge towards the crew, brandishing weapons, a smaller number fire bullets from vantage points. The crew seek cover behind the trade goods, their arcweave armor absorbing some shots in their haste. A sniper lets off a powerful round that catches Quad square in his chest armor, the forceful impact almost toppling the hulky figure. In retaliation, I clutch my pistol in two hands, holding my breath and squeezing the trigger. The snap echoes out, followed by blood spraying from the head of my Argorian target.

Meanwhile, Kaanus unleashes torrents of blue, molten death from his plasma rifle, each blast reducing the Suns of Omega to grotesque, steaming heaps of melted flesh. Hyanxa lets her automatic weapons carry her shots in a sweeping semicircle, raining bullets among the charging crowd. Many of the bullets spark and deflect off the armored attackers, though some find gaps, spraying blood over the dusty streets.

The sheer carnage threatens to overwhelm my senses. Never have I seen death on this scale, not so up close and personal, with the screams and the blood ringing in my ears, but I force the thoughts down. Survival comes first, not thinking. I adjust my aim, struggling to steady my trembling hands as I lock onto a distant Glaseroid in a nearby building. With a surge of exhilaration, I pull the trigger, disappointment washing over me as the bullet only grazes the target, sparking off the wall nearby.

My target’s antenna points towards me, a clear sign he knows I’m here. Prompting me to duck just in time as a deafening blast rings out, the wall behind me erupting in a shower of shattered stone and dust. I lay prone, as my ragged breaths almost cause me to choke on the dusty debris, but where my fear should be, I find only elated excitement as my hot blood courses through me.

As I dance with death. I am alive.

A primal instinct propels me forward. Crawling along the corridor floor, I maneuver to another window at the far end. I edge closer, revealing no more than necessary. The Glaseroids antenna twitch and circle. With bated breath and arcweave like resolve, I line up my shot, the pistol steady in my grip. With a decisive squeeze of the trigger. The Glaseroids narrow head explodes in a gruesome spray of yellow gore.

I yell in triumph as a strange sense of power and control I’ve never felt before surges through me. Such an empowering contrast to the years of being the victim, running and hiding in fear. Peering out the window with the faintest movement, I am enveloped by the cacophony of shouts, screams, snaps and sizzles of weapons, each sound a macabre note in the dark melody resonating within me.

The crew abandons their trade goods, fighting a desperate retreat. Quad plows into a group of Suns of Omega like a wrecking ball, sending them sprawling to the ground. He bashes all around him in a whirlwind of muscle and armor, a broad grin etched on his face, visible even from this distance.

Meanwhile, Job and Mod crouch behind any cover that they can, their skittering limbs and antenna flailing with frantic movements. As two Suns of Omega, having noticed them, charge with vibrating swords raised, until Job levels his modified plasma grinder at them, releasing blinding waves of molten plasma that spray like water from a hose. Their victims scream, bathed in a molten death which reduces them to piles of goo-like viscera.

Amidst a makeshift barricade, the Suns of Omega crouch unleashing a relentless barrage of automatic gunfire upon the crew. A bullet catches Job, the force sending him crashing to the ground, only for him to rise with agonizing slowness, his armor absorbing his near death. Mod uses his Venomizer in retaliation, shooting darts of... something prompting one victim to clutch and tear at his neck as his body transforms to a sickening green hue, his veins bulging and popping until they rupture.

I level my pistol at another gunner upon the barricade, knowing they present the most danger. With a calm smoothness that belies the tempest of roaring elation and fear swirling within me, I pull my trigger, watching in grim satisfaction as the brown-furred Jungarian slumps limp from his vantage point. Yet, amidst the chaos, Chorick, their leader has limped behind his own cover, his cane concealing some energy weapon that spews emerald bolts of death towards Kaanus, his every murderous blast directed towards him.

Kaanus dashes for safety and returns fire in frantic desperation, leading the crew away from the blood-soaked killing zones. But a searing lance of emerald energy halts his flight, causing a cry of agony to escape his scaled features as it pierces the meaty part of his leg. Hyanxa’s anguished scream fills the air as she rushes to his side, wrapping her arms around Kaanus, supporting him as he limps backward. Then Chorick aims his cane weapon with fatal precision directed at Kaanus.

I retaliate, with desperate haste unleashing a shot that grazes Chorick’s shoulder. The near-miss causes me to curse, but it’s enough to distract the tortured Jungarian who searches for the source of the attack—me. Until he points at my window, shouting to his gang.

Terror tightens my chest as I scramble from the window with a hysterical speed. Running up the stairwell as fast as my legs can carry me. The sounds of people shouting reach my ears, their footsteps echoing from the ground floor, propelling me ever upward in the bland, dirty building. My lungs burn with effort as I ascend higher, but the voices grow louder, their footsteps closer. Instead, I change direction on the next floor, running down the corridor towards the opposite end of the structure.

Windows beckon like beacons of hope as my heart pounds in my chest. Stealing a glance below, I gasp at the sheer height. The dazzling drop gives me pause until the footsteps of my pursuers echoes to the floor below, pricking the hairs on the nap of my neck. With a deep breath, I smash the polymer window with the butt of my gun, as I pull myself up on the precipice with trembling hands. I stand motionless, looking down at the hard paved streets below, wondering if it might be preferable to be shot.

With closed eyes and a surge of resolve, I leap into the abyss. The airstream brushes through my hair almost gently, as the ground rushes up to meet me.

Is this what freedom feels like?