23. Tyrxie

Chapter 23

Tyrxie

Aftermath

I startle awake. It takes a few seconds for my surroundings to become familiar. I’m laid out in Mod’s laboratory, my pleasant dreams slipping away. Disappointment surges within me, noticing Xandor absence. Releasing a heavy sigh, I question the sincerity of his words—were they genuine or mere false reassurances to lure me back to the ship, back to danger?

Maybe I was na?ve to trust him, or anyone for that matter.

Rising on my elbows, I grimace as pain pulses in aching protest from my face, ribs, and hand. The latest painful punishment for my blind trust in the menacing Urgnaw. A mistake I vow never to make again. The memory of his brutal attack causes me to shudder and, without thinking, I reach for the most painful injury—the aching scabbed brand on my chest.

I brush my fingers over the coarse, throbbing skin as I gasp, lamenting that this is now part of me. A foreign emblem I must carry forever, reminding me of my stupidity and my helplessness. Pain lances through me as I pick at the wound, desperate to be rid of it already, hating it with every ounce of my being.

Agony forces me to stop, as I lack the resolve and willpower to continue. Withdrawing my fingers, I see my strange red blood between my fingernails, wishing I had the strength to push through the pain, but I don’t.

Seems I lack the strength for most things. My plan to escape was a disaster—it not only failed, but almost cost me my life. And yet, it was Xandor, the one I had stolen from, the one I had run from, who saved me from a fate worse than death.

Where is he now?

A sense of longing which wrinkles my brow follows the strange question. Usually I’m wondering where people are, so I can avoid them. But now I’m filled with a treacherous desire for his reassuring presence. He promised to protect me until the day he died. Even the memory of it makes my heart flutter, so much so I almost don’t believe his absurd words. Yet he spoke with such intense sincerity I find myself trusting his words... trusting in him.

Why? I don’t deserve his protection. I deserve nothing.

The bitter thought fills me with an irrational, yet strange, comforting familiarity. But the question remains, Xandor only offered an incoherent response when I asked. He could’ve killed or mated me at any moment with my vulnerability and his overwhelming strength. Is it a deeper connection he seeks? Yet he knows nothing about me, other than that I stole his precious mask from him.

It makes no sense.

As I sit up on the bench, the laboratory door slides open, revealing Mod. Seeing him unhurt brings a smile to my face, but it soon fades as he carries an intimidating metal instrument with three large spiked prongs that gleam in the low light. The sight of it causes my mouth to go dry. “Is... Is that for me?” I stammer out my words, hindered by fear.

“Ah, bruised patient awakes. No?” Mod replies as he hurries to one of his shelves, placing the ominous device amongst the jars of inky liquids and revolting specimens. “This I borrow from Job, useful for breaking tough bones. No?”

“Breaking bones?” I repeat, reexamining myself with nervous glances, checking my extremities. “My bones?”

Mod tuts his antennae drooping. “Your bones more like spongy twigs. Could break easily with small hammer. No?” He opens his long coat, revealing all manner of strange tools and jars, and points toward a tiny rounded hammer.

“That’s a relief,” I reply, releasing a long breath, though unsure if his description of my bones as ‘spongy twigs’ should offend me. Mod approaches, dabbing a cloth with some black oily ointment, his beady eyes scanning my body. “How is everyone else?” I blurt out, wondering what fate has befallen the rest of the crew.

“All live, though Triandale is gone, Kaanus nasty wound to leg. Have disinfected and stapled. Quad covered in bruises... mostly his knuckles. Job slight concussion, singed fingers,” Mod recites distracted as he dabs my bruised cheeks with the stinging cloth. “Hyanxa bruised face.” He lets out a weary sigh as the stinging cloth now produces a welcome numbing sensation. “Blond-haired Klendathian cracked ribs and sternum. Much work. I should ask Captain for bonus. No?”

Relief blooms in my chest at his words and whatever strange liquid he’s applying to my wounds. I’m glad I intervened when I did, maybe saving their lives from the Suns of Omega snipers. Even if it also meant saving Hyanxa and Kaanus. Although I wonder what happened to the young Klendathian, did Xandor’s soldiers help in the battle?

“What in the void happened out there, Mod?” I inquire.

“You apply elsewhere, to fleshy bits. No?” Mod shifts, tossing the pungent chemical-like cloth onto me rudely. “You would have seen had you not run away. No?” he accuses with his antennae directed straight towards me.

I abandoned them, so I deserve to be abandoned.

A pang of regret and sadness tug at my mind and I struggle to meet Mod’s expecting glare. For a moment I wrack my brain for some clever answer, some clever lie. But something is different. I’m different now. Where my trembling fear should be, I only sense regret.

“I’m sorry Mod, I was frightened and ran away, but I did take out a few snipers from the windows,” I answer with a smile.

“Hmm, I wondered who fired first shot. No?” Mod nods his head, with two of his arm limbs framing his mouth slit. “Maybe answer placate Captain? No?” He muses with casualness as his words cause my heart to thunder in my chest.

“The... The Captain?” I stutter out as my hands search my holster, finding only my long knife but absent my pistol. “Was he asking about me?”

Xandor must still have my gun, and they’re going to kill me!

“Yes, you visit his quarters once healed. No?” Mod replies with a curious, tilted narrow head. Even Mod is watching my reaction. Coming back to the Mutalisk’s Hammer was a terrible mistake. They all know of my betrayal and I’m back where I started, only this time, somehow worse off. Xandor brought me back here only to abandon me—the thought stiffens my spine with worry.

I take a deep breath, settling my nerves. If I must confront the Captain and... Hyanxa, then so be it. I’ve had enough hiding, enough fear. One way or another, I refuse to live like a znat any longer.

“You hurry, scrub between milk sacks, you leaking mammaloid exertions onto bench? No?” Mod gestures with his elongated fingers towards my scorched branded chest, his less-than-stellar bedside manner still intact.

“You’re all heart Mod,” I grimace, running the cloth over my agonizing wound, the oily fabric bringing with it a sharp stinging ache. “Maybe it was a mistake saving you back on the station?” I ask, smirking through the pain.

Mod scoffs, his head antennae fluttering. “If I expire, who tends to wounded? No?” he shoots back even quicker than usual.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a droid? I remember you and your brother recommending them,” I chuckle, remembering a previous conversation on the bridge.

“You grow bold. Maybe I apply too much opiates? No?” Mod replies, sniffing the jar containing the black oily substance with a frown.

I may need more opiates before the day’s end.

I grimace, staring at the strange horned beast burned into my flesh, sitting between my breasts. Mod’s oily ointment clears some of the dead skin away, soothing the scorching ache, but also making it more visible. It sits like an otherworldly monster claiming ownership of my body. My mouth twists with disdain as I resist the urge to scrape it again. My hatred for it burns hotter than the brand that inflicted the wound.

“Mod, is there anything you can do about this?” I exclaim with heat in my voice, gesturing towards my breasts.

“Hmm” Mod places his fluttering arm limbs below his mouth, his beady eyes staring at my chest. “You seek to remove fleshy bits?” He suggests, reaching for one of his many strange-shaped knives and saws nearby.

“No!” I shoot back, although there was a time not long ago where I longed for their removal. The unwelcome part of me that draws so much unwanted attention and agitation. “No, I meant this voiding brand that’s been burned into me.”

Mod leans closer, inspecting my cracked skin as if I’m one of his inky jarred specimens. “Flesh, partially healed, inefficient mammaloid skin leaves permanent scar. No?”

His words draw a disappointed sigh from my lips. “Don’t you have some Mod-like oil or weird glowing cream that can make it go away?” I ask, my voice laced with desperation.

“You mistake Mod’s artistry for magic?” His antennae twirl as a reflection of his amused tone. “My magnificent abilities appear like magic to species with reduced cranial capacity. No?”

Says the Glaseroid with the flat, narrow head!

I stare at Mod, unblinking, but he seems oblivious as he busies himself wiping his instruments. “You could’ve just said no,” I retort, hopping off the bench. Already the antiseptic strong-smelling cloth has lessened my pain. “Thanks Mod,” I offer with a smile, turning to exit the lab. “I’m off to visit the Captain.” My bold words elicit a pang of anxiety that I soon suppress.

Mod waves a dismissive, elongated hand over his head. “I prepare more swollen mammaloid ointment. No?” he sighs.

Not if I can help it. Not this time.

I clench my fists, my resolve stoked, yet a treacherous part of me wonders if, under pressure, will my strength persist? Imagining the snarling, twisted face of Hyanxa fills me with fear, but also anger. No, I’m changed now. I can sense it deep inside. Maybe some of Xandor’s bravado has rubbed off on me? Or was it when I took those sniper’s lives? Having faced death, I no longer fear it? All the pain I’ve endured? Whatever the reason, it’s hardened my determination.

I march across the dull arcweave gray gangways. The foggy, recycled, clammy oxygen clings to my skin like a suffocating blanket. It is so stifling and oppressive now, compared to the open, gleaming glitz of Omega Flux Station.

My ears pick up the low hum of the hyperdrive engine purring throughout the corridors, meaning the ship must already be off the station, hurtling through space once again. Kaanus will be angry. The visit to Omega Flux was a complete failure. With the trade goods lost and the scoomer trade turning into a terrifying battle.

And then all the talk from the strange, scarred Jungarian, claiming Kaanus was a slaver. The implications burrow deep in my mind, yet with all the ensuring chaos I couldn’t pay it any heed. But the questions come swirling like a cosmic maelstrom. Was I a slave? Am I a slave? The Captain’s tale of how he rescued me from slavers—a fabrication? I take a deep breath nearing the Captain’s chambers now, forcing the questions down. If he’s angry at me already, I dare not provoke him further with these questions. At least not yet.

As the door swooshes open, I thumb my locket, the smooth surface a familiar balm that helps calm my anxious thoughts. The Captain’s chamber is the second largest quarters on the ship. I’ve avoided this area as much as I could. Standing in it fills me with apprehension as I study the clothes strewn about in the darkened room. Until I groan spotting the small laced undergarments that could only belong to Hyanxa.

Moving further inside, the only light source illuminating the room sits above a polymer bed, framed by wardrobes lined against the metal walls. “Who is it?” Kaanus snaps, his voice groggy and a little slurred.

Kaanus stirs, removing his blankets as I notice many bottles of spent alcoholic beverages scattered near and around him. “Just me... Tyrxie,” I reply, stepping into the open bedroom with tentative steps.

Motion catches my attention to my left as I draw my blade, dropping into a crouch. It’s Hyanxa, with her automatic weapon leveled at me. She too is crouched, lying in ambush in the room’s corner, shrouded in shadows, like a deadly predator awaiting her prey.

She’s like me, using the shadows to hide, but not for evasion, but for attack.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Hyanxa sneers, as she stands, relaxing, yet she keeps her weapon trained on me. “What in the void are you doing here, traitorous little bitch?” She spits from her muzzled face.

Hyanxa stands almost naked in just her black undergarments, revealing her petite brown furry breasts, yet she remains in complete control. My pulse races through my veins like hyperspeed, but I refuse to let them scare me. Not this time. With slow movements, I holster my knife and straighten, not wishing to provoke violence.

“Mod told me you wanted to see me?” I ask, struggling to keep the worry from my voice as I glance back to the Captain.

Kaanus hobbles off his bed, his spikey scaled face twisted in agony as he clutches his wounded leg. Both sides of which are bandaged, meaning the Jungarian’s strange weapon had penetrated his leg straight through. He is also only wearing his underwear, yet his body, which once appeared broad and strong, pales compared to Xandor with his towering physique and unbelievable muscular frame.

Where are you, Xandor?

“Voiding thing,” Kaanus complains bitterly, as he clutches for a half-empty bottle, taking a quick swig before he pours the rest on his wounded leg. “Son of a bitch! Void that Chorick,” he grimaces, almost snarling at the pain.

“Lover, you risk removing Mod’s healing salve when you—” Hyanxa tuts, her voice loaded with earnest sincerity.

“Void that!” Kaanus interrupts with a dismissive hand. “I’m the Captain of this ship, and my word is what matters!” His milk-white eyes maybe gaze in my direction as he shifts his head. “Seems some people need a reminder of that fact,” he slurs slowly, prompting an ominous dread to flutter along my spine.

He knows I ran away. I must get ahead of his accusations.

“Not me, Captain. If you’re wondering why I left. It was to get a better angle, because I noticed snipers in the windows,” I offer, keeping my eyes locked on Kaanus’ with false contrition.

Hyanxa scoffs, “Lying bitch, you probably set us up. Hanging us out like Mutalisk bait for your little do-gooder Chorick as revenge.”

Her icy words freeze over my chest, stealing my breath. This is much worse than I imagined if they suspect I instigated the attack. “No!” I shoot back, my voice now carrying genuine shock. “What revenge? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I finish casting frantic glances between the pair.

“Don’t play dumb. You little slave cunt,” Hyanxa snarls, her long red hair, flutters as she shakes her head. “I’ve never trusted you. You squirm, scheme, and manipulate, then play the part of the sad, oppressed female. But I see through you, you can’t fool me, alien bitch!” she shouts.

She knows me better than anyone. I hate her.

Hyanxa holsters her gun and moves to strike me, yet I don’t cower as my hands ball into fists. “Enough!” Kaanus roars, stiffening my spine, and halting us both. “I’m so voiding tired of all this crap, I must’ve been mad to leave the Argorian Alliance Military.” He thumbs his temples as he moves to dress himself in a red polymer robe. “Tyrxie’s not a slave. Sure, I pay you a fair share, isn’t that right?” he gestures towards me awaiting an answer.

Then how did I end up here, alone?

Yet I hold my tongue. “Yes, more than fair,” I hasten to answer, sensing Kaanus is drawing closer to my side. “How would I even contact this Chorick? I never meet him in my life!” I glare into the Captain’s unreadable white eyes.

Kaanus picks up another bottle of dark brown alcohol, taking a generous swig, spilling some down his chin. “That’s true,” he utters as he turns to Hyanxa.

The female Jungarian bristles and tuts. “Then why didn’t you return after the attack? You were gone for hours. You only returned because the Klendathian uncovered you. Admit it!” She challenges.

How does she know so much?

“I... I was chased off by Chorick’s gang. After I injured his shoulder saving you, Captain. I had to jump out of a voiding window. Not knowing if they’d still be chasing me, so I ran as fast as I could and got lost until Xandor found me,” I retort, my gaze fixed on Kaanus. He’s the one I need to convince.

“You’re not buying this crap? Look at her. Every word that spews from her whore mouth is a lie,” Hyanxa gestures towards me as she moves to stand next to Kaanus. “Look at me Kaanus.” She directs the Captain’s gaze with a hand. “I was right about the station. I was right about the ambush. Now listen to me for once instead of your dick!” Her eyes dart to me, laden with such menace it steals my breath. “She can’t be trusted.”

I should run. Run and hide.

But there’s nowhere to hide, not here, not on Kaanus’ ship. “No, that’s not true. I nearly died fighting to save you!” I plead with outstretched hands, almost hysterical.

Hyanxa smirks as her eyes shift in my direction, filling me with a sense of foreboding dread, like she’s about to reveal a winning hand of Zygon. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” She sneers. “You think we don’t know what goes on our own ship? Just because you scurry like a stupid znat cunt under the gangways?”

Kaanus strokes Hyanxa’s red hair as her words burrow into me with their worrying certainty. My mind spins in a frantic swirl, trying to predicate what damning evidence she’s about to reveal. “I checked Triandale’s logs. Seems a crew member was to bring the Klendathian’s masks to someone called Katarian... I wonder who that could’ve been?” She snarls at me, her question dripping with sarcasm.

“I... I have no idea about Triandale’s plans. Why don’t you ask him?” I stutter the lie, knowing full well Triandale hasn’t returned. Hoping with desperation I can lay any blame at his feet.

Hyanxa throws back her head, laughing, somehow more frightening than her fiercest sneers. “You’ve got some nerve on you. I’ll give you that,” she says after a moment. “I saw you two meeting.” She lets her words hang in the air as a treacherous flicker of doubt crosses my features. “Oh yes, that’s the look I wanted to see. The moment your lies come crashing down.”

“Only... Only to ask for a more powerful gun for the scoomer trade!” I blurt out, my voice struggling to remain level.

“Nope, not this time, you little bitch. You still had your pathetic pistol. Remember Kaanus?” She glances up at the Captain, who nods his head in affirmation, looking at me with a curious expression that never alters his unreadable eyes.

“Because he refused my—” I begin before Hyanxa interrupts.

“I checked your locker. Your clothes and credits, almost every item gone. Same as Triandale. You planned this together, to steal the Klendathians’ masks. As you live like high merchants, while we suffer the wrath of the Suns of Omega and the Klendathians!” Her words strike like a supernova, as she separates from Kaanus, moving back into the shadowy corner as her golden eyes glint with fury. “And now caught by the Klendathian you come back with your tail between your legs, daring to show your ugly alien face here again.”

They’re going to kill me. There’s nothing I can say now.

Yet the words continue to spill. “No Kaanus, I’d never put the crew in danger!” I plead, but the words feel hollow as they fall, dying on my lips in an instant.

“Shut the void up Tyrxie!” Kaanus roars with a slurred voice as he stalks towards me, limping on his injured leg. Now appearing massive the closer he draws. “Haven’t I been good to you?”

“Yes, absolutely,” I lie, flinching backwards as he approaches with clenched fists.

“And this is how you repay me? With voiding betrayal!” he roars, the deafening sound causes me to wince. “Hyanxa was right. I should have sold you off years ago!” He grasps my shirt in an arcweave grip, lifting me off the ground as my heart pounds in my chest. His face is full of rage but also hurt, yet I reach for the knife at my waist as he raises a huge scaled fist.

Maybe I deserve this.