Children of Sol

VIII. A Deal

The nightmares plaguing Shay seemed to intensify the closer they came to the Drolla system. She spent most of her time awake in meditation, recapturing the calm she'd been trained to have. It was when her mind slept, unguarded, that the darkness had its way. She died thousands of times in her dreams, but that was tolerable. It was watching everyone that she cared about die that she couldn't stand. She didn't scream or thrash, but she woke up trembling in a cold sweat every morning. It was tempting to go ask Naamah for something to grant her dreamless slumber, but a small part of her whispered that this was deserved. That this was the price to pay for the alignment she'd made and the misplaced trust she'd given Dajjal.

It wasn't you. Alyssa's words sometimes made her feel better, but more often than not, they felt hollow. There was no doubt that the patchwork woman genuinely meant them, but Alyssa seemed to see the best in her.

Shay, however, was painfully aware that she hadn't done enough to save Dajjal's victims.

Kgosi looked over at Shay as the outer door of the airlock hissed open. "Well, kid, welcome to Nirvana."

Whatever Shay had been expecting with that name, this was not it. Heat hit her like a furnace vent releasing a fraction of its inferno. The open door allowed a view of a grimy walkway that looked out over the rest of the space station. It was a glimmering slum, lit by neon everywhere over oily streets cluttered with garbage. In some places, hanging lanterns were strung across the narrow avenues along with laundry. Grav vehicles hummed overhead, making their way in endless circuits from one cracked façade to the next. The crowds that moved through were a mix of every race, though the humans were in the majority on Nirvana. It was the first time Shay had ever seen so many people carrying obvious weapons. Most were unsophisticated—a length of pipe or chain, a knife or a sap—but pistols were not uncommon. Ielara had much stricter regulations, even in the TARZ. Cyberware was everywhere, on feth as well as humans. People were packed so closely that Shay wondered if they could even breathe.

Bug and ADDie were staying back at the ship to handle any attempts to board, steal, or damage the ship. Apparently that was a problem in this area. Shay felt like a teacup in a tempest, trying to manage a roaring storm of emotions, most of them negative.

Alyssa was ahead of them, talking to a big, burly feth. "...dockin' fees? Oooh, good joke. We already paid the Trade Federation for the privilege of dockin'. I ain't 'bout to pay you, furball."

Kgosi stepped up. "There a problem?"

"You are captain?" The feth's words were a growl, his grasp on the trade-tongue made awkward by his fangs. It gave him something of a lisp. "You talk. This faso meetee is problem."

Alyssa poked the big feth in the chest, apparently oblivious to the many swirling dark patterns on his tan fur. "Hey, watch who you're callin' faso, kitty. You might hurt my delicate little feels."

The feth's slitted pupils went wide and his nostrils flared as he looked down at Alyssa. No feth liked being addressed with that particular insult. They took the idea of being called a human housepet rather poorly. He crossed his upper pair of muscular arms while the other set hung down at his side, clawed hands flexing open and then closed into fists. Shay could feel the simmering tension in the alien. Alyssa was no better.

The Captain grabbed Alyssa by the shoulder, digging in his metal fingers until she winced. "Nobody wants a fight. Who's in charge of this section of docks?"

The feth bared his teeth. "Gissu Union. Who you owe fees. We get or we take. One way easy. One way hard."

"I say we let 'em try, Cap." Alyssa sounded almost hopeful. She handed the captain her scattergun. "Hold this. I can take him."