3. Tyrxie

Chapter 3

Tyrxie

The job

A fter Hyanxa leaves, I take a moment to wipe the tears from my eyes and ignore the throbbing hot pain in my cheek and nipple. There’s no time left to waste. I must escape this trap of a shower. I’m too vulnerable here. Moving towards my bunk with desperate haste, I pluck out new clothes much like my previous ones, only not marred by disgusting grime. These old ones are only fit for incineration. I ready myself, tightening my holster, already feeling more secure as I check the knives hidden in my pockets.

The gray polished metal container near my narrow bed contains precious little other than clothes. I have almost nothing, just bits and pieces and a few credits I’ve scurried away. Except for one item, the most important item in the world to me, even next to my large combat knife.

My knife failed to protect me from Hyanxa.

No, my locket is the better item. It’s never betrayed me. A token from my unknown past, the only clue left to me. I hold the smooth golden object; it feels so familiar. Countless times I’ve clutched and stroked it, seeking some reassurance and hope. Instead, its surface reflects the low white artificial light projected from the ceiling now polished to a mirror sheen.

I separate the delicate latch with deft fingers, revealing a colored picture of me. Or at least the old me, the me I can’t recall ever being. In it I’m a small little girl with green eyes brimming with joy, with a future which should have been full of happiness and safety. A tiny plaque rests below the oval image, engraved with some strange text, unreadable and agonizing.

The answer is so close it’s maddening, yet it always eludes me. Dozens of times I’ve sought so-called learned peoples on various space stations and planets, with the faintest flicker of hope, only for it to be snuffed out with a soul-crushing shake of a head or disinterested scoff.

I’m wasting too much time here.

I rarely sleep in my bunk anymore. Instead, I prefer to snooze nestled hidden deep in the bowels of the ship. Being unpredictable is better, and today is without a doubt a no-bunk day. So I pocket my locket, still stroking it with gentle fingers. I let out a loud sigh, realizing they will expect me to help load the ship with resupplies and whatever trade items Kaanus has picked up.

Exiting the crew’s quarters, I march towards the cargo hold that sits next to the docking hatch. My arcweave tipped boots echo off the gray metal gangways as my ears pick up the low rumble and bang of heavy goods being hauled. I take my time keeping my pace slow. Lifting heavy cargo is not something I’m gifted in as I examine my thin, pasty white arms with a grimace.

Look as thin as Job and Mod’s head antennae.

The sounds grow louder as I approach. Numerous voices can be heard now. Sounds like most of the crew are there. I take a deep breath, trying to control my increasing heart rate. Hoping that they might be close to finishing the haul. I step through into the largest open room aboard Mutalisk’s Hammer to see much of the crew carting strange wooden boxes and barrels, piling them on top of each other.

“There you are, Tyrxie,” Captain Kaanus smiles down at me as he stands near the door with his wrist console activated, likely counting stock. He towers over me. Being several heads taller, his face scaled with white and a blue tint that almost shimmers. It turns into a frown as his milk-white eyes, that I find hard to read, scrutinize me. “What happened to your face?” he exclaims in shock.

He rushes over to me, his long gray coat with large lapels and collar fluttering in his haste. My heart pounds in my chest. Hyanxa’s threats, still fresh and full of dark promise, echo in my mind. I avert my eyes from him. He strokes my cheek with a gentle touch, tutting and examining the throbbing mark.

Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!

“You know what she’s like, Kaanus.” Hyanxa hops off a pile of boxes shadowed in the corner, so shrouded I didn’t notice she was here. The sight of her steals my breath and my gaze lowers even further. “Silly little thing probably banged her face, ducking through somewhere she shouldn’t be,” Hyanxa approaches, her golden eyes narrowing at me. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes... yeah, I bumped my head helping Job earlier,” I stammer out the lie, to see Hyanxa smirk before she sidles up at Kaanus wrapping herself around him, running her hand over his spikey head.

Kaanus chuckles “Fine, be more careful next time.” He gazes down at Hyanxa, who is almost purring with her head against his broad chest. He strokes her long red hair and the two of them engage in a wet, sloppy kiss. His lips lap with hunger into the muzzled jaw of the sadistic Jungarian that causes me to avert my eyes in case I throw up.

I remember kissing before on a space station, an alien boy, with lost eyes like mine, but still it was awkward and stupid.

Quad whistles echo through the cargo hold, as the hulking Barlyxian, with four large muscular arms that he never ceases to remind us about as if we can’t see them, carries two huge containers with ease. “You seek room!” He bellows out towards the Captain and Hyanxa, laughing.

Kaanus shakes his head as he goes back to examining boxes while inputting stock into his wrist console, as Hyanxa stalks out of the room, causing me to breathe a little easier. “Give them a hand, will you?” Kaanus gestures towards me, still glued to his holographic display.

Quad’s immense belly shakes with laughter. Despite his imposing appearance, bald head, flat nose and sharp protruding teeth, there’s a childlike innocence in his demeanor. “She no help. She only has two thin arms!” He slams down the two hefty boxes he’s carrying with a thud for emphasis.

It couldn’t have been Quad. I never would have escaped his powerful arms, right?

“No, Quad, you risk rupturing my liquids!” Mods’ skittering arm limbs flail in protest as he scurries over to inspect the boxes. His beady eyes dart around the containers. Mod is the exact double of his brother Job, except maybe Job’s exoskeleton might be a touch darker, but that might be a trick of the light. “If liquids mix, might create deadly toxin! No?” Mod protests.

“Pfft. Not break. Strong Klendathian wood,” Quad scoffs, straightening some cases. I ignore the two, instead heading towards the strange purple sunlight beaming in through the docking hatch. The towering Triandale huffs and puffs, passing me, carrying one large container in his thick, rough-skinned hands.

Where Quad is the widest person I’ve seen and two heads taller than me, Triandale is the tallest, a head even taller than Quad. But Triandale is all elongated, curved neck, thin and lanky with deep-set eyes that seem full of sorrow.

Is he sad like me or is this just how Gorglaxians appear?

He wrinkles his inward slit nose, which has drooping, tentacle-like appendages in what I assume is a disdainful way. “Voiding Klendathians,” he sneers as his eyes dart to the pistol on my belt. “Smart girl Tyrxie, don’t trust these killers,” he scoffs, nodding to his long-barreled graviton rifle strapped over his back.

I trust no one.

I gasp, seeing his weapon as Triandale claims it’s unique to his people and only uses it in the most dangerous missions. These Klendathians must be terrifying to spook our security officer. The thought causes my pulse to rise. As I step down the ramp, the warm purple sun feels pleasant on my skin.

The air feels fresh and crisp. I take a deep breath, enjoying the moment. Maybe I should have risked the trip with others... No, better to be safe on the ship. I’m relieved to see no giant murderous alien males known as the Klendathians, although I’ve never seen one. Only Triandale and Kaanus cautions to go by. Strange wooden carts lie abandoned outside our ship, half full of containers.

They’re a strange contrast from the sleek black marble surroundings of this massive open-air hanger, as small nimble crafts dart in the distant sky. A bizarre blend of a primitive society mixed with advanced technology. These Klendathians must be a strange species, but I don’t care to investigate further. With haste, I grasp the smallest box and I’m amazed by its strange, dark gnarled wooden frame, which appears to have grown from roots.

Despite its size, I still struggle with the weight, with clenched teeth and arms straining. I turn, heading up the ramp, each plodding step jarring my feeble muscles. Quad comes thundering down, a big smile splitting his green face. “Only one tiny box!” His voice booms.

I hate cargo duty!

This is Quad’s domain. He is the master of lifting, oh, and he makes sure you never forget it. My face heats with effort, struggling. Despite that, I push myself harder, already fearing the inevitable. No, he’s coming! Quad’s large boots echo behind me, his laughter growing louder. I sigh as he storms past me, carrying two of the largest boxes clutched in his four muscular arms. “You so slow!” he mocks, smirking over his shoulder.

I wish I was a Barlyxian like him, then no one would bother me.

Reaching the top of the docking hatch ramp, panting with a light sweat and what must be a crimson-colored face. Kaanus appears, inspecting my box before I’ve even laid it down. “What’s this one?” he asks. Before I can even shrug, he answers his own question. “Ah, borack fur. Very good. I’ll get a fortune for these on Omega Flux Station.”

I grunt, heaving the box on top of a pile of others. “Borack meat more valuable per cubic inch? No?” Mod offers, his beady eyes inspecting the box as well.

Kaanus scoffs, “Void, bit late to be telling me now, Mod,” he complains, glaring down at the Glaseroid who seems oblivious.

“I think Mod should help with the Cargo,” I suggest suppressing a smile as I enjoy the guilty pleasure of someone else being the victim of a chewing out for a change.

Mod interjects speaking faster than usual, “No, my antennae get stuck,” he gestures to the two spindly appendages attached to his flat, narrow head.

“What in the voiding void has antennae got to do—” Kaanus begins, his temper flaring.

I need to get out of here.

Quad interrupts with blissful ignorance of the Captain’s simmering anger that can flare faster and hotter than a supernova. Quad fears no one, not even Captain Kaanus. I wish I could be more like him. “Mod, even smaller than Tyrxie!” His voice booms and he doubles over, shaking with laughter. “He only lifts micro boxes!”

An awkward moment hangs in the air as we stare at the laughing mass of muscle and fat that is Quad. I’m relieved to see Kaanus suppressing a smile. The tension lifting. “Quad, you shouldn’t be laughing,” Kaanus gestures towards him. “You’re supposed to be taking stock as the cargo master, but last time I let you do it, you made a voiding mess of things.”

Quad just shrugs his massive shoulders as Mod chimes in. “Quad appears only able to count to four. No?” Mod flutters his many appendages beneath his mouth slit. “Perhaps multiples of four... hmm, further investigation required.”

“I count fine,” Quad protests, nodding several times. “One!” His voice echoes as he flexes an impressive bicep. “Two.” His left upper arm also curls, showing a taut, peaked muscle. “And four!” He roars as he curls all his arms as the veins pop and muscles bulge. Almost impressive—if not for the fact he’s a big dummy.

“Hmm. Original hypothesis needs reevaluation. No?” Mod chimes in, tapping away at his wrist console.

Kaanus shakes his head with frustration and disdain. “Void sake. Here,” he gestures towards me, before manipulating his wrist console. “Tyrxie, you take the stock from now on.” My wrist console vibrates with a notification, the beginning of a stock take. “You lift shit all, anyway.”

No more lifting!

“I haven’t got time for this crap,” Kaanus continues, waving a finger encompassing the large cargo hold. “Get these goods loaded. Then meet me on the bridge.” His eyes narrow as he glances between us. “We’ve an interesting job to discuss.” My heart skips a beat at his words. Whenever the Captain mentions an ‘Interesting job,’ it often means something very dangerous.

Kaanus claps his scaled hands. The loud, sudden noise interrupts my thoughts, stiffening my spine. “Quickly now, you lazy znats. Time is credits!”

A sense of apprehension washes over me as I stand before the bridge door. Hyanxa will be there, as well as the eyes and attention of the entire crew. Safer to be unseen and unheard. With a deep breath, I steel myself as the gray metal door whooshes open.

“Ah, we can begin now,” Kaanus declares, his white eyes noticing my entrance. I’m the last of the seven crew. They are all seated on polymer stools too small for them, around the polished metal table, in the cramped bridge. Their impatient glares make my skin crawl as I scurry to the only empty seat beside Quad.

“Bitch is always late,” Hyanxa spits her long-muzzled face turned up. “As if we wait on her.” I avert my eyes to the only view port on the entire ship, enjoying the sight of actual sunlight.

She wouldn’t attack me in front of everyone?

I thumb my knife; it helps soothe my nerves as Kaanus chimes in. “Now, now, my love. Tyrxie’s done a good job taking stock.”

“Any moron could do that!” Hyanxa protests, her voice rising as I try to ignore my increasing heart rate and avoid her hateful golden eyes.

“Not me!” Quad bellows with a board grin on his face. Oblivious to the implications. Once again, I’m grateful for his timely interruptions.

“Barlyxian cranium capacity and brain mass indicate potential for simple arithmetic. No?” Mod interjects with his pointless comment, turning to his brother Job.

“Perhaps Quad uniquely challenged? Yes?” Job’s spindly arm limbs gesture towards the poor confused looking Quad, who glances between the two with his mouth wide open.

“Cut the crap!” Kaanus shouts, his voice hard, interrupting, although his demeanor is still calm. “We’ve restocked our supplies and made a nice tidy profit selling our arcweave to Star City.”

“Pfft, Star City, such a stupid name!” Quad interrupts to splutter gobs of saliva over the table. “Why not Space Port City. Silly Klendathians,” he finishes laughing to himself.

“Hmm, Klendathian cranial capacity suggests potential for higher cognitive function. No?” Mod adds, his chitinous hands playing with his wrist console, as I take out one of my rags and wipe the table clean.

The aloof Triandale bristles “They are primitive savages,” he snarls, his passionate anger surprises me, so unlike his usual cool and collected manner. “If not for the Scythians, they’d still be throwing sticks and stones.” I’m glad Quad is sitting between us.

It could have been Triandale.

“Captain, Tyrxie requested you for more parts? Yes?” The treacherous Job turns his beady eyes towards me, his tone laden with insinuation. “You like her fleshy bits? You listen? Yes?”

My cheeks ignite like a giant star as I shrink into my chair, wishing the metal floor would swallow me up, never to release me. “I said nothing!” I protest, my voice shaky as I glance down at my trembling hands.

“You voiding bitch!” Hyanxa screams, her face twisted with rage, sending a shudder through my body as she makes a threatening move towards me.

“Easy Hyanxa, Tyrxie never approached me,” Kaanus reassures her with a placating hand. Hyanxa glowers at me, her golden eyes promising future pain, until she lets out a breath and runs a hand through her fiery red hair.

Job’s bug-like eyes dart back and forth between Hyanxa and me. “Mammaloid behavior confusing. Yes?”

“Indeed,” Mob confirms before he too looks at Captain Kaanus. “You spend profits on droids?” His spindly arms point towards Quad. “You replace that one? No?”

Job interjects his many arm limbs flailing in what I think passes for excitement among Glaseroids “Yes, yes! Maintenance drones to replace her!” His long fingers extend in my direction, causing panic to grip my chest.

They will abandon me!

“No, no, the female takes half a percent, the Barlyxian takes two percent. More efficient to remove him!” Mod corrects his twin brother, to which Job nods his flat narrow head in agreement. A shameful part of me feels a twinge of relief at his words.

Kaanus rubs his white eyes. “We’ve been over this countless times. No one’s getting replaced.” He then folds his broad arms. “Void, I don’t know how we get anything done with all this pointless chatter,” he complains with a weary sigh. “The reason I called you all here is to discuss our job offers.”

He extends his wrist console holographic display to encompass much of our table, the blue glow reflecting off the polished metals. “Seems the Klendathians are voiding keen to reach a planet called Earth.”

“I never heard of it, so I checked the cords,” Hyanxa offers as she examines the back of her sharp nails. “It’s a little less than a week away. Would be a simple drop and fetch job, no mess, no fuss.”

Triandale scoffs, “Nothing’s simple when dealing with the Klendathians,” he asserts, his long neck curling round to stare at the Captain. “As Security Officer, I strongly oppose allowing any of them onboard. They are a menace, a blight that stains the very universe.” His drooping face tentacles almost scrub the table as he shakes his head.

“Pfft, Skinny is scared, I protect you all!” Quad exclaims with a hearty laugh. I sigh as I reach over once again to clean his spittle from the table. “I met Klendathians. They little taller, true, but I’m stronger with more arms!”

“You met their traders, farmers and craftsman, not their killers,” Triandale retorts, his runny sad eyes harden to arcweave. “Quad, take my advice. You stay far away from them.” He waves a lanky arm to encompass the cramped room. “That goes for all of you.”

Everyone’s dangerous.

Kaanus sighs, his gaze locks onto Triandale. “Let’s keep politics out of this—”

Triandale’s long neck straightens like a metal rod. “Politics, you call it? They slaughtered my entire species! My wife and children, all dead on Gorglaxia,” he bellows, banging his fist on the table with such force that half of us recoil in surprise. “No one knows better than me the destruction you invite onto our craft!”

Kaanus rises to his feet, the blue in his gray scales simmering with increased intensity. “My ship, not ours! You understand, Triandale? If you can’t follow my orders, I’ll voiding leave you here on their planet!” He roars, sending shivers down my spine. Identical voice, identical face...

The one that haunts my nightmares.

They stare at each other, the tension thick as Triandale’s skin, for what seems like an eon, until Triandale lowers his looping head. “Understood.” His tone is slow and his pitch defeated.

Kaanus takes a deep breath as he lowers himself back onto his stool in no hurry. “It’s like you said, Triandale, the Klendathians only follow the Scythians. They’ll not harm us, especially if we’re useful to them,” he gestures back to his large holographic display. “Now, back to business. The best offer we got for the Earth trip was fifty thousand credits. But I turned it down. I didn’t trust the massive red bastard, looked like he’d murder you as quick as look at you.”

“I don’t know, fifty thousand credits is a lot for a simple runner job, lover,” Hyanxa objects, her greedy golden eyes glued to the number on the display.

“Wait till you hear this,” Kaanus retorts, a mischievous grin spreads across his face. With a tap on his console, the display switches to different nav points and a new number. Five hundred thousand credits, a small fortune emblazoned in neon blue, the number takes our breaths away. “Twice the distance, ten times the credits,” Kaanus finishes with a laugh.

“Hmm Captain, minor problem, nav target is Nebian home world, a war zone. Yes?” Job points out his beady eyes dart around the small room. “An Elerium sphere in the engine is worth two in hold? Yes?”

“No, no. This is one versus ten. We could replace the entire crew with droids!” Mod retorts, as he rounds on his brother, his arm appendages flailing.

“We can’t spend if we expire. Yes?” Job counters as they both join antennae, freezing in place, in complete silence. They sometimes do this when they have a disagreement. The reason is a mystery to me.

Too dangerous.

My cut is so small, it’s not worth the risk. “I... I agree with Job. It’s too dangerous,” I stammer out, my fear pushing me to speak.

“No one gives a void what you think, weird alien bitch,” Hyanxa spits, her brown fuzzy face drips venom. “Finally, a big job. This could be the making of us.” Her hand squeezes the Captain’s shoulder.

“I vote yes!” Quad declares, crushing my hopes, as he might be the only one capable of swaying Kaanus’ decision. “And I have four arms which count as two!”

Kaanus scoffs, “This is not up for a vote.” He rises from his seat, his movement quick. “Prepare the Mutalisk’s Hammer. We depart in two hours.”

Time to hide.