Anarchy

A Day Out – Part Two

Looking around at the others with him, Misha swallowed tightly. His silver gaze flicked to Azrael, watching as she gently tucked the Weaver into the makeshift nap area. Glaring at the ceiling, he bit back his anger and fear until someone touched his arm.

He opened his eyes, staring down at the Katzenfurg female like he was seeing her for the first time. “What?”

“Bane is strong, and he’s got the tiny bomber with him. I’m sure Axel and Val will have your brother’s back.” She flexed her claws, extending them fully to their two-inch length. Relaxing, she licked at a sticky stain on her forepaw.

“I know, but that still doesn’t mean I don’t get concerned for their safety. We built this crew from nothing, each of us coming from a background we’d rather not talk about. And yet, we get along based on the fact that we share living quarters and ideals.”

Slipping her hand into his scaled one, Azrael sighed. “I’m watching over them, Misha. They’re fine. The mission is being handled. We need to be concerned about getting recognized on Centara.”

He stopped, glancing over at the only other male. Trykerius made a face, something between a grimace and horrified acceptance as he threw his hands up. There wasn’t much they could do without getting in the way of the others, so it was down to nerve-wrecking, anxiety-riddled thoughts while staying safe.

“He would worry more if I went back to help. Bane would go insane if he lost me,” Misha said quietly. “He’d never forgive me if I purposely went against him and put myself in unnecessary danger.”

“Then stay, and follow our Captain’s orders,” Trykerius said, hitting the auto-pilot. Turning completely in his chair, he raised a blond brow. “Besides, he won’t actually kill the enforcement personnel. However, if he accidentally hurts the Governor, I’d be happier than Jagger seven beers deep.”

“You’re only saying that because your family did you dirty,” Novidia snickered, her tail swishing as they approached the Centara Station.

The station was more of a centralized shopping district hub filled with a vast array of creatures and characters. Bright lights faded in and out as they sent a docking signal to the secondary terminal. A clamp slithered out, slowly dragging the ship into dock as the crew braced.

Beyond the docking tunnel, the station opened into a maze of walkways, bridges, and stores built into the curved walls. Holographic signs flashed over crowded stalls as merchants called out to anyone passing by. Creatures of every shape and size wandered through the noise while cargo drones zipped overhead and displays repeated ads in dozens of languages. The place smelled like cooked food, hot metal, strong spices, and a mix of perfumes, with the station’s engines humming under everything.

Lifting the now awake Weaver into his arms, Trykerius grinned. “Ready to get some pretty clothes?”

Misha groaned, tilting his head back as he cursed in Concloian. He caught Azrael’s blank look, moving to her side before speaking. “Concerned?”

“Watchful.”

“Same difference.” Misha ran his humanoid hand through his blue braids. “Are you doing okay?”

She smiled, raising a single brow as she shook her head. “Misha, I’m fine. You’d know if I wasn’t because I would tell you. It took weeks, but I finally feel safe enough to be myself for once.”

He sighed, “I’m glad to hear it. So,” he said as they walked off the frigate. “Did you manage to find out your actual baseline?”

Her hands folding behind her head, the young woman frowned slightly. Sniffing the air, she grinned as she caught the pungent scent of spiced food. Letting out a sigh of contentment, Azrael glanced at the Concloian next to her. “I did. Talis was just as shocked as I was when the results were ready.”

“And?”

“You’re assumption was correct,” she answered. “I am an Andromedan descendant, but the blood was diluted over time. When they pushed the tests on me, it didn’t change my DNA. It amplified it and woke up the power that was sleeping inside me all along.”

Misha’s brows went up, the cobalt blue blending with his bangs. “Seriously? I was only making an observation based on what I knew. I didn’t realize I was right. Well, at least now we know for sure. I mean, the government wanted to erase your people, but they obviously missed a few if even one of their descendants made it this far.”

“I know,” she replied. “It also explains how my body took so easily to the introduced splices. They were implanting ancient DNA into an Unawakened – which is how they referred to the children who didn’t get their powers until a specific age. According to Talis, that age is eighteen.”

His mouth closed so fast, she heard his teeth click audibly. “Well then. So, all that learning you went through the last few weeks was basically you going through your actual awakening?”

“Basically,” Azrael answered. “It also means I’m currently your most powerful asset.”

“Friend,” Trykerius’s angered voice called over his shoulder. His blue eyes flashed with simmering rage as he stopped to look at her.

She blinked. “What?”

“You are our friend,” the Terran repeated. “Not an asset. Not a weapon. A friend, so you might wanna start believing you belong.”

“I…”

“No,” Trykerius snapped in a low tone. Turning, he pointed his finger at her, jabbing her shoulder lightly. “You listen to me, Azrael. We didn’t save your ass to own you. We did it to free you, and potentially gain an ally. You’ve proven your loyalties through the small things. The training? The meals? The late night talks? That’s not asset action. That’s friendship.”

The young woman blinked rapidly, her eyes slightly glassy eyes shining under the dimmed lighting. Looking around at all of them, she felt her chest burn with something she couldn’t identify. Her powers flared slightly, letting her see the colours of emotion. Blues, whites, oranges, pinks, and yellows danced around the other four creatures with her.

All of them varying in size and species. All of them staring back at her expectantly.

Then Solara stepped forward. She slipped from Trykerius’s arms, scuttling over to the girl she called sister. Climbing her, she locked her primary arms around Azrael’s neck and her powerful jumping legs dug gently into her waist. “You are all family now. Am I family too?”

“Of course you are, Sol,” Novidia said softly. A rumble started in her chest, filling the space with a deep, rhythmic purr.

A tear slid down Azrael’s cheek. Before she could move to wipe it away, Misha brushed her face with his humanoid thumb. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just overwhelmed. I spent years begging for this. For freedom. For peace. For my family. Now I have a chosen family,” she answered, grabbing his hand. “Tryk, I’m sorry. I just… It’s hard to overcome years of torture. I’ve come a long way from where I was a while ago, and I have all of you to thank for that.”

“I don’t need your apology. I just need you to understand that when we choose people, we don’t just drop them. We integrate them into our chaos, then set them loose on the galaxy.” The Terran replied.

Finishing the rest of the walk into the shopping center in silence, the team felt a newfound sense of peace. Once they had Azrael’s clothes bought and paid for, they grabbed a quick lunch.

“Me next?” Solara asked, looking up from her container.

They had stopped by a shop run by a Mantisan insectoid. His scythed hands methodically mixing small, candied space bugs before dividing them into smaller containers. The implants translated the Yurian language into standard when he called out his wares to the crowd of passers-by.

Running up to the counter before they could stop her, Solara had stood on the tips of her back legs and pulled herself up. Frustrated, she got down before coiling her rear muscles and jumping up. Landing on the counter, she tilted her head this way and that as she watched the Mantisan work. “They are all colours?”

“Yes, child. Many different bugs candied and mixed to Yurian standards,” the male shopkeeper said calmly.

Novidia walked over then, slamming a handful of credits onto the counter. “We’ll take whatever this amount buys.”

“Buying in bulk gets you a discount. For a hundred credits, I can give six batches,” the Mantisan replied.

“Great! My young friend there needs something from her homeland. She was born off-world and lost her parents, so me and my friends adopted her.” The lie came easily, rolling off her tongue like liquid gold.

“Oh, stars! How sad! I’ll package them up. Is she very old?”

Making six small marks in the powdered coating, Solara said, “I’m this many.”

“Ah, how awful to lose ones family so young. The gods have blessed you with a chosen family, child. Honour them,” the shopkeeper said as he handed over the bag of containers. Turning, he grabbed another one off the shelf behind her. “One for the road.”

All six eyes lighting up with pure joy, Solara hugged the Mantisan. “Thank you!”

Moving onto the next place, they stopped at a children’s clothing store. Stepping inside, Solara looked around at the array of pictures. Each one featured a child from a different species wearing the presented clothing from the racks. Spotting the spider picture, she bolted to that corner and squealed happily.

“Look! Look! There are so many,” she declared, her body vibrating with glee. “Can I have one?”

Trykerius and Misha knelt beside her, each of them melting for the tiny female they were caring for.

Calling the owner over, they grabbed a rainbowed spectrum of outfits in different styles for the Weaver. A small coat, several dresses, and a fitted carbide bodysuit to protect her carapace during training. The suit moved with her, stretching and relaxing with every move just like Novidia’s did.

“Are you happy, Sol?”

All six eyes focused on the Concloian. “Yes! I am very happy!”