Anarchy

A Day Out – Part One

Arriving on Nyx, Trykerius landed the frigate gently at the open port. Waiting until the cabin depressurized to the same gravity as the colony, they stepped off the loading ramp and onto the soil of the planet. Surrounding them were towering buildings named for every kind of parts and tech from every species.

Fabrication sites were busy, the machinery clunking and grinding with each exertive effort. Shouts from supervisors mixed with the laughter of the wandering crowds. Children’s laughter reached them, and Solara perked up as they passed a playground.

“Can I go play?”

Novidia grinned, her black-lined maw curving slightly. “I’ll stay with her. I’ll hide in one of the trees, but I want you to stay within sight, Sol.”

“I will!” Tearing off on all eight limbs, the Weaver giggled as she reached the play area and found another Weaver. This one with a bulbous lower half that was eating from a bag of freeze-dried crickets. “Hi!”

The other Weaver, startled by the newcomer, nearly dropped their snack. “Hi.”

“I’m Solara. Do you want to play?”

Their mandibles clicking with intrigue, the other Weaver tucked the snack into a bag at their feet. “I’m Tule. A male Araneidae Weaver.”

“Um, different breed, but still a Weaver like me,” Solara declared, pulling the male over to a climbing wall.

Pulling herself up into a heavily shadowed tree, Novidia sat and took watch over their youngest crew member.

Stopping at several different places with his data pad and scanner, the blond man quickly and efficiently chose and bought several crates of parts and wiring. Checking the list at the last stop, he scowled.

“Something wrong?” Azrael asked, moving up to his side. “You look like you’re debating this next one.”

“I am,” he replied, sighing heavily. “Misha? Novi and I can’t go in. They know our faces.”

“Damn it. Okay. Azrael, take the data pad and read the situation. If you can pull that matter manipulation technique here, do it to protect yourself in case these guys have wanted posters up.” Misha said.

Blinking, the young woman shrugged. This was fine. She could do this. “Take the lead.”

Walking into the building, she understood the hesitation from outside more clearly. There, in holographic high definition, were pictures of both the Terran engineer and the Katzenfurg.

Not recent pictures, but older versions. Novidia’s had captured her as she was arrested for the incident with the animal. Her mouth open in shock, eyes wide and wild while blood dripped in thick lines down her furry chin. A chunk of meat hanging from her front fangs as she stared at the camera with a mix of shock and confusion.

Trykerius’s picture was of him flipping off two enforcers, his fighter looming in the background. His clothes were torn and dirty, but clearly a militaria uniform. The deep blue was trimmed in what appeared to be silver, denoting him as the youngest son of his clan. His defiant posture painting him as someone who didn’t follow societal norms.

‘So that’s what they looked like when you found them?’

Misha, startled by the sudden connection, blinked rapidly for a moment. His brain struggled to find the words, his hearts hammering as he stared at the girl who was slowly stealing into every dream and thought. Taking a slow breath, he absently looked though a shelf of motherboards when the clerk started studying them.

‘Yeah,’ he answered. ‘This whole mental connection feels weird. Not bad weird. I’ve just never been exposed to talking without saying a word. It’s great for avoiding others overhearing us, though.’

‘Imagine how I felt the first time I heard voices in my head that belonged to other people. I thought I was going nuts until I realized I could read minds.’ Azrael told him, her eyes dancing playfully

The clerk slithered over, his slitted eyes studying them intently. “Saw you lookin’ at them posters. That Katzenfurg is terrifying to behold. Apparently killed five armed guards the day she was arrested. And that boy? The exiled prince? That’s a brat who sold out his own father. Got the Governor killed, he did.”

“Is that right?” Misha asked, a growl building in his reptilian throat. The ridges around his eyes deepened as his eyes bled from a deep silver to the blazing gold of irritation.

Azrael’s hand found his arm, her touch calming him a few degrees. “If he says they are dangerous, then maybe we should take our business elsewhere? I don’t feel safe in a place that houses such creatures.”

Catching on, Misha nodded. “No kidding. Better off spending our credits in a place without this kind of danger.”

They started for the door, their jaws locked as they fought their laughter. Then, just to break them, Misha spoke up.

“My brother really needs cooking lessons.”

Together, they burst into raucous laughter.

“No kidding!” Azrael giggled. “Bane seriously needs to stop cooking everything on high heat. He almost burned the kitchen down.”

The clerk turned from blue to green as he realized he was about to lose business because of his need to tell people about the criminals. Understanding now that maybe telling others what happened was actually bad for business.

“Wait! I… I apologize. Please, anything in the store, half off for the fear-inducing inconvenience.” He said, waving his manipulators in a general gesture.

Smirking, Misha gave Azrael a subtle nod before hiding his amusement and turning around. “My friend here is anxious about beings that are loosed and violent. Are you sure there’s nothing to worry about?”

“Yes! Yes! Those two escaped Dune, came here, then vanished again. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of either one in ages.” The serpentine clerk cried out.

Minutes later, they walked out into the almost toxic air of the fabrication areas and storefront callers. The bags in their arms were loaded with duplicates of everything left on Trykerius’s list, their trip to the colony finally finished.

Passing an alcove, Azrael stopped. Her head tilting to one side as if listening to something no one else can hear. “Were you hiding for a reason?”

Stepping from the shadows, Trykerius took the bags from her. “Yeah. I can’t risk getting caught. Why’s there so much?”

“Death’s Angel made the clerk reconsider his ability to make a sale, so he gave us duplicates at a rate of two for the price of one.” Misha snickered.

Staring at the girl, Trykerius gave her a look of shocked appreciation. “Nice. Glad you’re on our side, Azrael.”

“Don’t mention it. You guys gave me back my freedom and my life. Helping where I can is just repayment,” she commented, stopping to look over at the playground area.

The children who lived on the colony were all screaming and laughing, running and playing with each other despite the differences in species and size. The familiar giggles of Solara reached them, the sound high pitched and happy as she raced a few other children on two legs.

Spotting the young woman she called sister, she left the game and bolted to the chain link fence. Climbing it easily, she turned back to the other kids and waved. “I have to go now. Bye!”

“Will you come back again?” The Orb Weaver called over, his mandibles clicking happily.

“Um, Azrael?” Solara asked, glancing up at the young woman.

“I don’t see why we can’t visit once in a while for you to play with your new friends.” Azrael’s reply made the female Weaver cry out with excitement as she climbed her for a hug.

Leaving Nyx, they made their next stop at the planetary outpost of the Gaian colony. Massive green houses lined roads while fields covered with transparent domes grew golden wheat, tall stalks of corn, and fruit-bearing trees.

Getting what they came for, Trykerius lifted Solara into his arms and brought her into the berry house. “Hey, Drenda. Meet Solara. She’s addicted to the berries I grow from your seeds.”

Drenda, a lithe, winged insectoid, turned. Her smile faded for a second, seeing the spider insectoid blinking at her quietly while her wandering eyes were locked on a patch of bright red fruit. “Oh my. That’s, um…”

“She’s safe,” the Terran male said quickly. “Only six cycles old, and prefers to hunt fruit and my meat stores over things her size or larger.”

Relaxing visibly, the moth-type insect folded her tawny wings tightly to her side. Reaching into the basket in one of her many manipulators, she pulled out one of the sweeter fruits she’d collected that day. Shaking slightly, she held it out to the Weaver and watched cautiously as the child’s eyes tracked the object. “It’s a Longan. A rare Terran fruit.”

“For me?” Solara asked, her throat working as she waited. When Drenda nodded, her antennae twitching gently, the Weaver reached out with both primary arms and gently accepted the treat. “Thank you.”

Watching the child eat, Drenda allowed herself to breathe easier. “Mannerly child, isn’t she?”

Novidia walked over, her paws whispering over the grassy floor of the greenhouse. “Hey, Drenda. Oh, Sol, did you get a treat?”

“Uh-huh, it’s really good. Want a bite?”

“No thanks, kiddo. I’m not overly fond of sweet stuff as it’s dangerous to my physiology.” The Katzenfurg laughed, folding two paws behind her head. “Misha and Azrael are loading the goods now.”

“Awesome,” the Terran replied, turning back to the Mothran – the official name for Drenda’s people. “How much for some of the Longan seeds and the care book? Sol likes it, and I’ve been meaning to expand my resources.”

Moving to the shelf by the register, Drenda picked up a book and flipped through it. Stopping on a page in the rare section, she scanned it for a moment. Then, she reached into the next shelf and pulled down a dark green pamphlet. Moving to the jars of seeds and the small potted saplings, she carefully chose the requested product. “Two thousand credits, including tax.”

Pulling out his wallet, he swiped his card and grinned. “All good?”

“Payment accepted,” Drenda replied. “Please read all instructions fully before attempting the planting.”

“I will, thanks!” Trykerius called over his shoulder as he grabbed the bag and picked Solara up off the floor.