Part 8

Guardian Angel

           Some of the things I had to do back then I'm not proud of today. Lurking among cargo containers, accosting civilians walking alone, sleeping in bathrooms: that's how I spent my days. Yeah, I got pretty disgusted with myself. Morals kept me from doing anything truly evil; at the point where I found myself holding a knife to a gray-maned old Hrasi woman I knew I had to stop. No, I didn't kill or rape or torture anybody, but I beat a few up once or twice. You know that you've joined the dregs of society when you find yourself sleeping in a corner with another transient just because he doesn't look hungry or pathological.
           The station was called Ma'shadi. It had five major horizontal disks connected together around a main cylinder. From what I'd learned the core held the station's primary biomass and waste processing plant, as well as the main power generators. The disks were hierarchical: the farther 'up' the disk the better the security, accommodations, amenities, etc. From top to bottom they were the station officer's ring, the station resident's ring, the spacer's ring, the docking / industrial ring, and finally the worker ring.
           Most of my time on Ma'shadi was spent in the worker's section, eluding the authorities. There was no security to speak of there: hunter gangs, thieves, and murders had the run of the place. No few protection rackets had established themselves, as well as faction wars. Why would such a section ever be built? Because whenever the people up above needed anything demeaning to be done, or if they wanted a slave, they could round up a transient from the worker ring.
           Pretty soon almost everybody was on my tail. Not just the authorities, no, but also the gangs who'd I'd pissed off by roughing up people on their turf and the protectionists I'd pissed off for roughing up the people they were supposed to be protecting. Not a whole lot of honest work for me to take on under such circumstances, as you might expect. All the same, I was getting really sick of hurting people…
           "Stop it! Somebody help me!" Late at night you often heard such pitiful cries, and most ended with tormented screams. Most of the time they were off in the distance, but this time it was practically around the counter. I was hungry, having not eaten solid food in two days, and was patrolling the moisture collection tunnels. Most of the people that came here came to hide, and nearly invariably they had stuff on them. Credits, weapons, food, ID cards, and the like.
           I hugged my cloak closer, shivering. An old man had quilted it together for me in exchange for some extra food and a knife. It consisted of various beautiful pelts that the man had shaved and sewn into animal hide, but with Ayo's fur in the center. It kept me warm, made me feel Hrasi. For a moment I ignored the howls and pleas echoing through the tunnel and walked past the fork in the tunnel they were coming from, but then my conscience kicked in. What the hell was I turning into, I asked myself, the Haigh? ICA? It scared me that I could be so completely dead inside.
           The person was still yelling out bloody murder, thank god. Easier for me to track, you see. "Help, someone! Please, anybody! Please!" Sounded like a young to middle-aged Hrasi woman in absolute terror. I stepped through the branches of the tunnel very carefully, searching for the person. When she started pleading for her life I dropped all pretense of surprise and ran. Three branch changes more and I'd found her. I slid into the tunnel, saw five people with their backs turned to me, and slid back out of sight before they turned around. Somehow they hadn't noticed me, so I took a chance to listen while I pulled out my rapier. Another 'gift': it was really a shoplifted novelty item from the station's residential ring, but it cut well, was as strong as anything anyone had down there, and was a blade I was extremely proficient with.
           "You little whore, you've cheated us for the last time," a young man snarled. I knew words like 'whore' and 'cheat' now; they were essential parts of the vocabulary here. "It ends here."
           "No, please! I'll give you anything, anything. I just want out, I'll never tell anyone. I swear, just don't hurt us!" A different Hrasi: older female.
           "We can't take that risk. You've [proven?] we can't trust you." The girl mewled.
           "Please, if you have to, kill me, but [spare?] my [ ]."
           "Why? Just more of a [drain?] on us. You're a fool, a traitor, and now you're dead."
           "No," I finally spoke up, "she's not. Not if I can stop you." Five Hrasi looked surprised and angry when I turned the corner and lowered my blade at them. Sure enough, a young, perhaps twenty-year-old Hrasi woman with a pointy face, petite features, and swollen teats lay in the slime on the floor before them. She was dressed in ragged, earth-toned, organic clothes, and cradled a small child who was suckling on one of her nipples. "Let her go or I'll kill you all," I threatened menacingly. Not that I thought it'd work, but you have to at least try.
           "Get lost, human," A man the about the same age hissed, "You're not wanted here."
           "I'm guessing she wants me here. Get away from her or I'll kill you." Each of the five Hrasi pulled a hand weapon: a dagger from the man, a steel bar, chains, a hand axe, and a sword like mine from the woman. "I'm going to win, you know," I sneered. They didn't have anything to say, but spread out in a line and began advancing upon me.
           A older brown-furred man with a nasty scar across the eye broke the line and leaped at me with his axe. Were they going to go one at a time? I parried the weapon away with a flick of the hand and twisted my blade in a circle to slit his wrist. He dropped down with a cry and I took the moment to leap at the chain-bearer, a young woman in black leather. Expertise with the chain she must have had plenty, because she lassoed my blade and tried to pull it from my hands. Too bad she had no sense of my upper arm strength; I pulled harder, she lost, and I got the chain, snapping her across the head and sending her to the ground.
           "You are not going to get away with this," the older woman growled. "Luro, take Jensci and get these two [morons?] to [safety?]." the young man nodded and slipped down to pull the chain girl into his grip; the steel bar-wielding thug got the foolish axeman. They picked up their partners and ran past me, leaving the older woman. "I see that you're fairly [proficient?] with the [sword? / some special kind of sword?], as am I. Shall we [duel?]?"
           "Love to," I replied, "but it wouldn't be right. I can't fight a cowardly old woman." She grinned, ears going flat.
           "Insolent human. You'll die slow. Hyaah!!!" She jumped at me and it began.
           For an old woman she wasn't too bad. She jabbed to the center and I parried a '4' - a lateral sweep across the chest. Didn't catch her blade because it was a feint - she disengaged to evade my block - but I quickly circled my blade back and parried again, getting her by the point that time. Metal clanged on metal as we both stepped forward. With our swords in opposition an elegant art form turned into a brute shoving match. The two swords became levers, and I'll be damned if any old woman is stronger than I am.
           I forced her against the tunnel wall and followed up with a head cut, but she ducked and went for my legs. It was a big mistake on her part: I dropped the sword and jumped on her head. "Eyah!" she yowled, all 175 pounds of me forcing her face down into the floor's sludge. I disarmed her, retrieved my sword, and bounced away with both blades at the ready.
           "I'll let you live if you run," I called, stepping back towards the woman and her child. "You weren't going to do that for her, were you?" Growling, the old woman pushed up.
           "You'll regret this, human. I don't forget an insult. You should kill me while you have the chance."
           "You're probably right. Now get out." Shrugging, she ambled away, rubbing the back of her neck. At least I'd gotten a blade out of the deal… Shallow breaths from behind me were the only sounds after the old woman's footsteps had faded. I slowly turned to face the woman I'd saved. She whimpered and curled in a ball around her cub.
           "Please… I don't have anything. Don't hurt us. I'll do [whatever?] you say. Just don't hurt my child." I sheathed my sword and held the other point down.
           "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. You're safe with me."
           "You're not a protection racketeer," she sniffled frightenedly, "are you?" Her child stopped feeding long enough to begin crying and the woman hugged it tightly, shhing him down. "No, be quiet," she pleaded with it.
           "No," I told her, shaking my head, "I'm not." I moved closer to her and she struggled away. "Don't worry. I said I wouldn't hurt you. My name's Aaron, or Ahrn. I'm trying to get on a Yusuuran ship, but until then I could protect you." The woman's eyes widened.
           "Could? Please, you can have anything. My ID, my service, my body, anything but my child. Please."
           "Fine. You have a name?" She looked like she'd made a pact with the devil, fear washing her face when I accepted her offer.
           "It's… Zeiri. My daughter is Somi. I… have some credits, but I need to eat so Somi can [feed?]!"
           "Of course. Get up, Zeiri. It's not safe here. I want some of your credits. Need to eat. We'll share." Zeiri opened her mouth to protest, but didn't. "We'll share. I'm going to fall over and die without some food, and then you'll be alone." I got a conciliatory nod, then she rolled up to her feet and unpalmed a hundred-credit chit. Damn. Ten credits was what I'd lived on each week for the last two months… "A hundred credits?" I exclaimed, "How much do you have?" Ears went down and she stepped away from me, terrified.
           "Please don't kill me. Please, please, don't kill me." Somi mewled, a truly endearing little sound, but Zeiri shrieked. "Quiet, Somi, quiet! You'll get [me? / mommy?] hurt." She backed away faster. "You, you're a good person. You'll let us live, won't you? Please, I need this money for my daughter. Take what you have and go, I beg you!"
           "Keep your money, then. I won't hurt you." I looked at her with my softest gaze. "I don't care about it. Don't worry. Your Somi is safe with me." Zeiri stared, slowing down her retreat. "You can't trust a Hrasi, can you? He or she'd kill you and your cub. I won't, Zeiri. I won't because I don't kill innocents."
           "I don't want to die. I don't want my child to die." Crazed, now.
           "Then come with me," I whispered, "It's safe." Hesitantly, dreading, she took a single step forward. When I didn't make a threatening move, she took another wary step, and another.
           "Alright," she coughed, "alright." Whether it was starvation or perversion I wasn't sure, but I noticed her swollen teats poking out from her coffee-and-cream fur. I closed our distance and touched one, pinching lightly. Misty clear-white fluid dribbled from her breast, and Zeiri shifted uncomfortably, but didn't outright resist. "Please, don't," she asked quietly, "My milk might not be very good for her, but it's better than nothing. Let's go; it's not safe." Nodding, I pulled her into my cloak and we began to retrace my steps out of the tunnel system.
           "Something wrong with your milk?" Zeiri's ears flicked and her nose twitched.
           "It's bitter. It's thin. It's not pure white. I can't possibly be eating enough; that's why I need money. I must have some kind of [nutritional deficiency?]."
           "What have you found to eat?" I asked. Her reply was slow.
           "…not much. Food from the [vending?] machines, what's left in the garbage, sometimes a fruit or piece of meat or bread." Embarrassment shone brightly in her otherwise dark eyes, which puzzled me.
           "But you have all of that money. Couldn't you -"
           "No. I [ ] it, and now they want it back. I can't give it back, though, because they want to kill me too. I can't go up to the next [station section?] to [spend? / use?] the money on food either, because the police think I killed somebody."
           "I see. Did you?" For a moment she was silent. "You did, didn't you?"
           "It was a long time ago, before Somi. He was drunk. I didn't know what to do. But I can't let them [catch?] me."
           "Fair enough," I decided. "I can't let them get me either."
           Alterday shift was about to start, and with it would come cooler temperatures. Daytime and nighttime were simulated here, as with human stations. For the 'dead shift', or alterday, they drop the temperature and humidity by half, then simulate 'wind chill'. Since we were in the ventilation shaft, the effects were about tripled. Somi cried as our conditions quickly became inhospitable. "Here, take this," I said, taking off my cloak to wrap Zeiri and her daughter more fully, "The exit's not far."
           "You'll freeze!"
           "So will your child. I have… experience with this." It felt like it'd been forever since I'd been on the desert planet with Amara. Phfa, and I thought that I'd had it bad then.
           We found an exit right about the time when the water running along the tunnel floor was beginning to turn into ice. Little ice crystals had formed all through our hair.
           "This is your exit?" Zeiri asked doubtfully. Ill-lit trash cans and rubbish covered the floor thirty feet below us: there was a grate in the tunnel wall that provided the air for whatever corridor was down below us. "I don't think I want to risk that drop."
           "It's nothing. I'll take Somi if you don't know how to tumble." Merely mentioning that I might take her child made Zeiri back away. "Or not. Just an offer." I looked back at the grate and dropped my foot down on it, denting it. That pissed me off; they usually shattered, but this one hadn't yet become brittle. Instead I took the extra blade I'd acquired, wedged it into the grate, and popped the whole thing out. "You want me to take her, or can you handle it?" I asked, waving her over to see the drop better. It was more like fifty feet, now that I could see it unobscured.
           "You're really going to jump that far down? Oh, gods… if I give you Somi, will you give me your swords for [safekeeping? / insurance?]." Without hesitation I held both out to her and received my precious little package. "You had better keep her safe, Ahrn."
           "Don't worry, she'll be fine with me." I looked down, judging the fall. All macho bullshit aside, there was some serious potential for neck breakage here. Without a little kid in my arms I could just fall into a roll, but in this case a little scaling was in order. "See you in a moment," I promised Zeiri, then jumped.
           Scaling is a fun way to fall if you don't kill yourself. What you do is run down a sheer cliff or other vertical face and then 'fall' upright as the cliff or wall turns into the floor. If you do it right there's zero impact or shock to your body: if you could keep it up, you could theoretically scale down a several-hundred meter building. Realistically, you'd screw up and fall forwards into a tumble that breaks whatever you land on first. For me fifty feet wasn't a problem, and we both got through it pretty well. Somi's mother looked down at us from above.
           "You're crazy! That was impossible!"
           "No, it was ancient Japanese. Coming down?" She flinched, stuck her legs out, then pushed off. No spinning at all, just a straight fall with a loud 'eep'. I set Somi down and dashed under Zeiri to catch her before she hit the floor. "What was that? You don't want your kid to have a mother, do you?" Gasping was my only reply for a minute.
           "You're not just any Yusuuran, are you?" she hissed, scared to hell from that fall. "Oh, Somi, you're alright?" I watched her bend down to scoop up her daughter.
           "No, I'm from ICA. I was captured, and now I'm Yusuuran."
           "Crazy Yusuurans. Crazy humans. How did somebody like you ever come out of [destructive?] groups like them?" I laughed as we walked down the hall.
           "I hope that's a compliment…"
          

---v---

           "So I screamed that I loved them all and that stunned them long enough for me to get away." Over sips of some kind of poultry broth I kept going. "It took me a long time to figure the station out. I learned that the worker ring was safest, really, because nobody has a gun down there. People there are all weak and sick, so I don't have much trouble." Zeiri bowed down and directly lapped out of our soup.
           "So why are we up here?"
           We'd gone up to the industrial level, you see. There was a café there that I remembered had been clean, cheap, and hadn't asked me any questions. Far in the background of my mind was Naia's warning about lethal meats, but I didn't remember the names she mentioned. What I did remember was that she'd fed me geri, so that's what I'd ordered. Smoked geri strips, a boiled vegetable plate, a bowl of what I'd dubiously dubbed 'chicken broth', and a bowl of rich cream were spread out before us. Whatever nutrient she was missing must have been represented somewhere, I figured. All I ate was the geri and broth, because the veggies could've been poisonous, but I had Zeiri eating as much as she could.
           "Because you need food, because I need food, and because Somi really needs food." I plucked a piece of geri off the platter and chewed on it thoughtfully.
           "Did you ever have a, ah… a mate?" Good question.
           "I have a… woman I love and who loves me, but she doesn't want to be my mate." Zeiri looked at me oddly. "She's my knight, and she wants to stay that way. We do… love each other. I hope." Leather squealed as I leaned back in my seat. "What about you? What happened to Somi's father?" Sore point, that: she stopped eating and stared down at her child. Oops.
           "She… doesn't have a father. I was abandoned here, [became? / turned into?] a prostitute. That kept me alive, but I was just a kid, and… it was horrible. I had children, but I…" She closed her eyes and locked her jaw.
           "You what?" I proffered softly. No one was looking at us - we were in a corner. I'd feared she'd make a scene.
           "Killed them," she whispered, "Killed them. I killed [ ]. In four years I had ten children, but I killed them all. Those people… They kept me from the worst men and I gave some of the money. But when I had Somi, I couldn't hurt her. I needed money, so I stole from them and ran. Somi… I have to [make up?] for what I've done and keep her alive." I took a deep breath, mulled over that.
           "A troubled past, to say the least. Don't worry, though. I'll keep you two safe." Slyly she bent down to lap up some cream, then stared up at with a milky beard and a perk of the ears.
           "You might not make such a bad father, you know. There are things you can do I've never seen, things you could teach a child. Might not be a horrible husband either." I couldn't meet her eye then, looking up at the ceiling instead. "I could learn to love you. For a human you're not so ugly, and you're kind. You'd have a loving daughter…" She was making a desperate, thinly veiled attempt at securing safety for her child, but that wasn't an offer I was interested in. She noticed, but just ceded her position to me further. "Not a wife? I don't blame you. I know that I'm not very respectable as a person. A slave, then? If you'd take us in I'd be your harem. I'm lean, young, experienced, warm… I'd be a willing-"
           "Do you know what Somi means?" I asked, interrupting her pleas.
           "Somi is another word for life." Like Gaia?
           "There is another meaning." I dropped my head to look at the cub. "There's a language from Earth called Swahili that died a long time ago. In Swahili Somi meant 'well-behaved'. Too bad her mother isn't." Zeiri deflated. "Sorry, I won't do it. I already have someone in mind. But I'll stay with you."
           "What am I supposed to do?" she asked, brow furrowing in disappointment. "I don't even have a bond-partner."
           "Then you need to find someone you can trust."
           "But you're the only person I can even [ ] to trust." I pointed to her with my spoon.
           "Come with me to the Yusuurans, then. They're good people."
           "They're [ ]!" she exclaimed. "They don't care about a single person, just lots of people. I want Somi to be free."
           "So people say, but it doesn't have to be that way. What would you take instead? The Haigh?"
           Conversation ended there. The answer was probably yes, but she wouldn't say that to me. End result: nobody said anything. How could the Hrasi want the Haigh? I understand the disdain for the Yusuurans - if they truly were obsessed with tyrannical government, that is - but why did that make the Haigh appealing? They were slavers, butchers, and militarists without the slightest regard for diplomacy or mercy. Sort of like the worst parts of the New Israel colony, nazi Germany and the eighteenth-century American south combined. Compared to that, what's a little tyranny? At least the Yusuurans let you live.
           Somi was a beautiful baby. Sorry, but I don't think baby humans are pretty or cute: they do absolutely nothing for me. Baby Hrasi, however, now that's a different matter. Their cries aren't annoying, they don't smell as bad, and in general they're lower maintenance. After seeing several Hrasi mothers I think that I can attribute that to the fact that Hrasi cub's parent's just don't give a damn, and mostly don't go out of their way to care for their children. From the very beginning nobody pretends they're not looking out for number one, I guess.
           Zeiri was different. From the time I paid the bill to the time we got out the door and into the shadows she was watching for threats to her daughter. Maybe once you've gone through ten kids to get a good one you want to keep it, or perhaps she was afraid Somi was her last chance. Seriously, calling Zeiri overprotective, even in human terms, was an understatement.
           "Where do we sleep?" She asked me nervously, "Are we sleeping at the same time? Who's going to keep guard?"
           "Hey, hey, slow down," I called, "We're sleeping in the tunnels. No one's going to travel in there during alterday." She shook her head.
           "No, it freezes in there. We'd die. Somi would die." Somi meowed softly at her name. "Yes, you would," Zeiri repeated, smiling as she brushed the infant's tiny head fur into place.
           "We'll buy blankets and a bag for them. There's shop nearby. Can you pay?"
           "I can… Yeah, I can pay. But I don't have an [infinite? / unlimited?] supply of money." I looked over at her.
           "I do. I just have to take it from people."
           "So, you are one of those. I thought you were."
           "I haven't killed anyone, and I've tried not to take from people who really need it."
           "If you're from the [ ] humans, how can you speak Hrasi [fluently?]?"
           "I'm good with languages. Anyway, it just gets easier after the first five or six of them." Zeiri's ears quivered in amusement.
           "How many do you know?" I smiled.
           "Oh, it depends on what a language is. Maybe ten, maybe eight, maybe twelve. It depends." Zeiri hissed at me.
           "That's amazing. What are they?" We were almost to the clothier now, walking quickly but calmly.
           "Oh, I don't know. English, Spanish, French, Swahili, Japanese, Mandarin Chinese, Hrasi, Latin, Aboriginal Australian, and Portugese. If you count computer languages, then add Z+, Meme, and GPI."
           "Can you teach us?" she asked. "Teach me human?"
           "You mean English?"
           "Isn't that what all humans speak?"
          

---v---

           Couldn't sleep. I'd slept in tunnels with only Ayo's cloak before, but this time I couldn't. Zeiri was snuggled up against me, purring contentedly with little Somi sandwiched between us. Precious little Somi: even then she was sleeping soundly. She was emaciated as hell, but that'd change if I had any say in it. Gangs and cutthroats be damned; if they wanted to hurt her then they'd better be able to hurt me.
           Night and cold were things I was getting tired of. This time there was a different woman and no tent, but basically it was the same. Needless to say, I'm not a big camper these days. Back then I didn't have a choice. Adultery is bad, mind you, but freezing to death is worse. I pulled the two of them closer and made them give me some of their furry Hrasi warmth. Hey, we all have our crosses to bear.
           Warped echoes resounded through the tunnels. The whistling of the air, yes, that was there, and the rumbling of the station's inner workings, but there was something else. Anything I could hear must have been obvious and rousing to a Hrasi, but Zeiri and Somi stayed asleep. I held totally still, trying to minimize any noisemaking motion. No breathing allowed. Something or someone was there. Dammit! Stupid human ears… made me envious when Hrasi swiveled theirs. I strained to make sense of the sound - growling! It was a Hrasi speaking! More straining to process the garbled noise into words. I got some of it, but not much.
           "[ ] smell [ ]," someone was saying, "[ ] [ ] them."
           "Not [ ]. You [ ] do [ ]," a deeper voice said. "[ ]."
           "[ ] here. [ ] this way." That was bad. People somewhere were looking for someone. I had a guess who those people were and who they were looking for. This wasn't too far from where I'd found Zeiri. Coming back there had been utter stupidity on my part. Our scents could've probably been used to track us down, too. Shit.
           I untangled myself from Zeiri, got up, and pulled my blade, but before I could get into position I was interrupted by a clang from the opposite direction. What, more? Then came some whispers and sounds of feet pacing. Rapier at the ready, I stood to face and bare arms against the new threat, which was closer. The footsteps only got closer and closer, more and more panicked. I could have sworn I hear a "he's here!" I raised my sword up to cut down the first Hrasi who made it around the corner. She presented herself presently.
           "Aaron, no!" The white figure hissed, and at the last moment I managed to curve the blow away from her face. A second later the woman was knocked aside by a brown-cloaked Hrasi. Both managed to sort themselves out with little noise or fuss, but there were exclamations from the other direction. I stared down at the two Hrasi: Naia and Maura. My saviors.
           "What the hell are you two doing here?" I demanded. Naia looked up at me with a wide grin on her face.
           "We found you! We finally found you!" Then her nose turned up. "God, you stink. Lucky we found you: I was about to [give up?], and Maura already has."
           "-did not," Maura growled fiercely. "I knew we'd find you and Ayo. Where is she, Ahrn?" Difficult question to answer without her going at my throat, I realized.
           "Tell you in a minute. I've got other problems. See that woman?" I pointed over to Zeiri. "Protect her, will you?" Maura went to her without question, but Naia stared at me.
           "Protect from whom?"
           "From us." I turned behind me to see the same old gang not fifty feet away, baring the same weapons. Naia growled and pulled a standard-issue ICA pulse gun, but just as quickly I caught her gun arm at the wrist.
           "No energy weapons. The authorities will send police and we'll be killed. It's a firearm or nothing." She holstered the pistol unwillingly. "Let me take care of this," I whispered.
           "What makes you think you can?" The older lead woman called out.
           "Well, I almost killed you a few hours ago." I flicked my rapier up and came on guard. "Want to try again? Just you and me?" The woman snorted.
           "Why, when I could just [overrun?] you with my friends?"
           "Because if you lose I'll let your friends live," I called back derisively. Then, more quietly: "and if you don't I'll trade you my life for those of these two. As a slave." Then I smirked. "Or are you afraid I'll beat you again?"
           Oh, that did it. Gangs are for the weak: people with no backbone join others in the hope they'll somehow benefit from some kind of 'cumulative willpower' effect. Testosterone, bluster, and peer pressure are the only things that really increase, though. A single strong individual's willpower is far superior to that of a horde's. This case was no exception; the woman had to step forward and draw her sword. "New blade? Am I going to get it too?"
           "Yeah," she snarled, "you'll get it through the [some internal organ?]." No one dared interfere after that. It was between us. Why the hell do these things always happen to me?
           In a microcosm of eternity we both hesitated, then silently ran at eachother.
           The first blows rang against one another clearly: not blows of ripping flesh but of clanging metal. The woman presented me with a forceful downwards cut, but I parried high and retreated. As she moved in for a low cut I saw an opening for a left-handed swordsman in her guard. Shifting my weight back forward, I passed my blade to the left hand. Before she could react I'd lunged at her wrist.
           Slippery footing gave way to my overextended posture - just my luck - and I fell forward. Actually, I was lucky that she didn't behead me on the way down. Using a simple forward roll I was able to avoid breaking my skull or impaling myself, but my original sword clattered away and left me spread-eagled on the ground. With a victorious snarl the woman slashed her blade downwards. Pinned and scared past conscious thought, I did what came instinctually - catch the blade between clasped hands.
           "Aagh! Shit!"
           No matter how many ninja action / adventure vids depict such a move being performed, I can assure you that it's crap. Certainly there are stories, but if a real blade-grasp technique ever existed then either it's been lost over the centuries or I haven't seen it yet. When I tried to stop the blade by clapping my hands around it I didn't do so evenly, which seems to be the trick, so the final effect was that I put my hands in harm's way. The blade sheared my inner palm flesh away, but at least I stopped the sword.
           "Not so sure of yourself now, are you?" the woman jeered. A steady stream of blood began dripping from my hands to pool on my stomach. "Ready to be my slave, human?" In what was possibly the single-most painful act I've ever made I twisted the blade out of her grip and snapped a kick to her kneecap. Within half the time it took her to fall I'd flipped the sword around so I was holding the right end. A tremendous splash of bile and indescribably revolting goo accompanied her hitting the floor, then I jumped on top of her and hacked through her forehead.
           I had expected a scream of outrage and misery, but there was none. Just a wet thwock sound when the edge of the thin blade went through hide and bone to cleave her brain in half. The muscles in her face did tense the woman's features into a pained expression, but nothing more. The eyes, though: she conveyed her utter terror at the realization of her loss through those eyes. The light in them died after a few seconds, accompanied by the gradual slackening of her face.
           "Hey, you! [Whoever?] you are, get out of here before I shoot the whole lot of you!" Naia hissed from behind me, and I heard the all too familiar whine of a energy pulse charging. I somberly ripped the sword from the woman's skull and looked up at the gang.
           "Better go, or she'll shoot." The younger men and women shuffled nervously, looking from one to another. "Get out of here!" I yelled, and they took off at a run. "Fools," I muttered.
           "Ahrn! You, you're alright?" Zeiri snuffled concernedly. I went to retrieve the lost sword - by now the stolen sword count was at 3. People tell me I'm obsessed when it comes to archaic weaponry, but that's a different story…
           "Fine. Just need my hands… shit, I need new ones, really."
           "Better find Ayo," Maura said darkly. She hadn't noticed the cloak Zeiri was huddled in, obviously. I sighed.
           "She's not available, Maura. The doctor's plans are pretty well set." Naia winced, hearing the connotations of my human inflections, but Maura frowned.
           "Where is she?"
           "She isn't," I replied. Maura looked confused, then her nostrils flared and her ears slanted all the way back.
           "You!" She cried, jumping from beside Zeiri to charge at me. "You worthless son! Anyone I try to love you [ ]! Damn you!" In a burst of fear I stuck my sword point out to ward her off, but to my horror she didn't stop. With cries from both of us my open flesh was torn again as her chest took the blade and pulled it out of my weakened grip. "Traitor," she hissed, "Naia, kill him!"
           "Both of you stop!" Naia yowled. "Now we have two injuries to [ ]! You're both fools!" She hissed angrily. "You, woman," she gestured, indicating to Zeiri, "We're going." She turned to us, infuriated. "Damn you, Maura, for acting a fool, and twice damn you, Aaron. Damned morons!" She turned away. "These idiots can follow if they're done being children." I was about to tell her that Maura'd started it, but then realized how much that'd agree with Naia's argument. Sullenly I walked to Maura and bent down beside her.
           "Don't touch me," she hissed, "don't you dare touch me. I'll kill you."
           "It wasn't my fault," I complained. "You're not being fair." I picked her up anyway, sword and all, ignoring her outraged protests. "Naia, we're coming!"
          

---v---

           Maura wasn't talking to me; she sat silent in the corner chair, paw holding an ice pack to her breast. We'd gone up to the spacer's ring and taken a room in a spacer's berth - their ship was supposedly nearby. Zeiri was lying on one of the two beds nursing Somi, and Naia was monitoring the artificial regeneration of my hands. Using the room's medical terminal came at the exorbitantly expensive two hundred credits a minute rate, but Naia didn't worry about it.
           "You're really lucky, you know," Naia purred as she readjusted the nucleic re-association factor (whatever that was). "We boasted about your [abilities?] so much that the Yusuurans gave us 10,000 credits worth of [resources?] to find you. Any less and we'd have [ ]."
           "How much is that?" Zeiri snuffled.
           "Some. More than I have."
           "Not enough," Naia added, "so we won't be paying them for your [treatment?] or the room." Then she hissed. "Hrnnn… miss Zeiri, you have credits?"
           "Ahrn…" Zeiri started, but I waved her down.
           "Don't worry, you can trust them. They're my friends."
           "Who told you that?" Maura growled. "You stole my sister, made her [ ], then you turned my new bond-partner into a rag. I'm not your friend." She spat the one word I'd missed, so I turned to Naia for an English translation. My Hrasi was really starting to shape up by then, so having to do so was embarrassing.
           "What about Amara?" Naia ignored me, looking at the organic regenerators steadfastly. "Naia, what about Amara? What'd she say?" She pursed her lips and stared hard at the controls.
           "Amara is under supervision."
           "Supervision? Why? What kind of supervision?"
           "You'd better really want to hear this," Naia warned. I didn't even bother to dignify that with a response. "Alright. By supervised I mean sedated, straight-jacketed, and strapped into a chair in her cell. She has Eshera staying with her overnight and she gets to ask for friends to visit, but that's about the extent of her control over her life these days." I felt sick.
           "Why?"
           "A few reasons. Let's see… in order of appearance: she tried to steal a bomber, tried to steal a different bomber, tried to kill herself, tried to steal a fighter, tried to kill herself again, tried to steal a long-range scout, and then finally tried to kill herself again. We finally convinced the captain to keep her from hurting anyone. She's not very happy." Tried to kill herself? Oh, god.
           "Again, why?" Naia's ears batted.
           "Haven't gotten any brighter, huh? You. She's completely bonded to you; I'm envious. She wouldn't even pay any mind to Maura, her sister, for god's sake. Worse, she was the last person to see you, and she never doubted that you were alive. She kept trying to go and find you, but the rest of us couldn't get permission. When Amara decided that she couldn't get away she tried to kill herself. Each time one of us managed to find her before she died, but it got pretty close. I think some of the reason why we were allowed to look for you was that it might have brought Amara around when we came back with nothing."
           "Might've pushed her over the edge," I countered.
           "True. We didn't exactly plan on finding you. In fact, our ship only seats two." Tapping the controls off, Naia switched to Hrasi. "Which brings me to Zeiri's money." She looked over to Zeiri and fixed her with a steely stare. "We're going to need that money. How much is there?" Zeiri looked to me for help.
           "Ahrn, I need that money for -"
           "Not any more you don't. We'll feed you all you want, give you a soft bed to sleep in, and keep you safe. They'll give you everything you'll need: right, Naia?"
           "Of course. How much money?" Zeiri looked back and forth from me to her.
           "Four thousand six hundred credits." Naia scowled at her and Zeiri looked about ready to die.
           "No, it's not you," Naia soothed, but the set of her ears told a different story. "It's just that we need more. Two of us can go back, but the others will have to travel. Four and a half thousand credits could take one person anywhere, but not two…" She shrugged. "Then one of us will have to [stow away?].
           "The only reasonable [destination?] is Haras. That much should be obvious. We all know that the Hrasi civilization doesn't [support?] us, but Haras has a [voice? / place?] for everybody. From there we can board a Yusuuran freighter and get back to the [ ]. The only question is who goes."
           "Zeiri's going," I cut in, "because she has a child. What about the three of us?"
           "It's between you two," Naia said. "My father has friends on Haras. I need to go." Maura growled.
           "Alright. I'll go with Zeiri, then. Besides having a hole in my chest, the [ ] will need [authorization?] to let us dock anyway. I can always hope Ahrn will die [along the way?]."
           "Amara… is that woman?" Zeiri asked with a whisper. "You should give her something to [prove?] that you're alive and [returning?]."
           "Write her a letter. By hand, so she can smell you on the paper," Naia suggested. I nodded, then rolled my eyes.
           "I can't write in Hrasi."
           "I'll translate it onto a second document." She pressed a button on the control terminal and the organics system turned off. "Take your hands out."
           Expecting plasmed flesh, I slowly pulled out my hands to see what had happened, then swore softly. Instead there was new, unscarred pink baby skin covering my hands. Every part of them tingled. Sometimes it hurt to move the muscles, but that was proof that they weren't really mine. Amazing. That was the first example I'd seen of purely Hrasi technology. "Just like new," Naia commented with a smirk. "Now get to work."
           Paper and pen were located in the drawer between beds, but they were hard as hell to pick up.
           "Aww," Maura purred, "What's wrong, your hands hurt? Next time don't [bet?] your life on your [fencing?] skills. Swords are [obsolete?], you know. Why don't you use a real [martial art?]?"
           "[Let] him [be]," Zeiri admonished her, "he saved my life." Damned quibbling Hrasi. I sat down on the bed, laid the paper pad on a small table, and tried to grip the pen into my hands. God, it hurt.
           "Yeah? Well he killed my bond-partner. Turned her into a goddamned-"
           "All of you shut up," I yelled, "It's six hours past main shift and I'm trying to write with a hand that's only been around for five minutes. I'm going back to sleep if you won't." That shut them up. Six in the morning is a bad time for anything except sleeping, especially if you were awake at two. Tired and angry, I nonetheless considered what to write. Who knew how long it'd be before we could communicate again, or even if we ever would?
          
           Dear Amara,
          
           It's me, Aaron. I'm alive and well, in no small part because of your sister. Don't worry about me, okay? Naia is taking me to you the long way because the ship they had won't fit but two people. Maura is coming home to you, as is a new friend of mine.
           Her name is Zeiri. I found her on the station. She has a daughter, and I need you to do me a favor. Please keep her safe - I promised that I would. If the Yusuurans try to stop you or hurt her, do something. I trust your good judgement.
           The girls tell me you've had some… issues. They're not the right answers. Forget them. Trust that you're worth more to me alive than dead. Fight for me, Amara. Win our freedom. Don't give up just because I'm not there. I promise I'll find you if you only stay alive. Maybe we can talk about things when we see each other next. Always remember that I love you.
           - Aaron
          
           "There, I'm done." Naia picked up my letter and pen, transcribing it line by line onto the back with sweeping, jagged strokes. Her alien characters sort of looked like Japanese kanji script, but they weren't as elaborate, nor were there as many of them. Naia smiled as she went through the letter.
           "Aren't you the [romantic?]? This'll probably do it. I notice that you didn't [mention?] Ayo."
           "I didn't want to be the one to give her the bad news."
           "Phfa, thanks," Maura growled. "Just give me the damn letter." Naia gave her a sideways glance and handed it over. "I think we may have stayed too long," Maura said then. "The spacer ring has [surveillance?], doesn't it?"
           "Not in here, does it?" Zeiri asked. "The station wouldn't do that, would they?"
           "No," Naia dissuaded them both, "they wouldn't. But Maura's right. The hotel is going to want our money in…" She turned to look at the wall clock. "Four hours. More important is that Aaron and I get on a ship." She stared at me. "You're not [wanted?] here, are you?" I shrugged.
           "A little."
           "Great. Alright, well, Maura and Zeiri, you need to get to the ship. Go ahead of us. Zeiri, that money?" Zeiri still looked uncomfortable, but nodded at my raised eyebrows. She reached into her shirt and removed a fist-sized bag that she threw to me before pulling Somi tight to her. I counted out forty-six hundred-credit chits - four less than she'd had yesterday - and threw her one back.
           "Just in case," I told her, then turned to Maura. "You're going to keep her safe, aren't you?"
           "I'm not like you. I know how to protect people."
           "That's not what I asked." Maura glared at me.
           "Yeah, I'll keep her safe. We're going." She got to her feet, pocketing my letter, and barged to the door. "You coming, Zeiri?" Maura asked more softly. So at least her grudge against me didn't carry over to the mother; that much was good. Zeiri smiled at me, getting up and patting my face, then followed Maura out the door.
           "Why is it that we can't all be together?" I asked the closing door. "No matter what happens I'm always left missing someone. What's wrong?"
           "You smell," Naia answered from the back. "That's why." What the hell? She burst out laughing when I didn't have a response for that. "I'm kidding. I don't know… don't worry about everything; it's not all going to be a problem." She smiled and padded in front of me. "It's time, Aaron. We have to get to the passenger's port soon. Going to have to get to Haras the long way, though. One straight ship would be too classy a cruise to stow you away on." I looked at her warily.
           "Why does that not sound like fun?" She smiled, perked her ears forward and switched to clipped British.
           "Chin up, lad. It's all part of the job, wot?"
           British Hrasi is funny as hell. If only she'd had a decent accent, or maybe if she'd had something better to say. It didn't look like fate was going to hand me an easy ride…
          
           End Part 8