Chapter 1: Let The Punishment Fit The Crime

The blade felt good in his hand. Just a scrap of metal, rubbed against a rock to sharpen it. He kept it clutched against his chest at night, to keep the monsters away. But the monsters never really went away.

He couldn’t remember his last meal. Something from the trash...monster food, bad-tasting. But he’d been hungry then too, swallowing it down before it could come back up. It had made him sick, curled up and hurting, holding his tummy tight to keep it down. That had been a bad time. And now he was hungry again...the kind of hungry that leaves you wobbly. He’d been chased away from all the good dumps, the monsters shouting and buzzing at him as he ran for his life.

Diggs already knew not to try the crawling things in the dirt. Those were very bad for you. The big people had told him that, long ago. He didn’t remember them real good, but he was sure they’d been important to him.

Pretty sure.

He had to eat. Had to, or he was gonna go to sleep, and not wake up. He thought and thought and thought. Diggs took his blade and crawled into a perch, a place he knew that had the best view. He had his blade, and he could wave it at them, make it give him food. People food, not monster stuff. So he waited. And waited. And then fell asleep.

He woke up groggy, everything feeling fuzzy. Diggs rubbed at his eyes, looking around...and he saw it. The monster. He hated the monsters, hated them...and felt his fingers curl around his blade. He kept hating them as he climbed down, as he staggered through the alley to jump out at the monster and jab the air with his blade, making his scary face with the teeth and growling. The monster stopped, swirling about as it gazed down at him.

Something flashed in the air and he stumbled back, but it was so much faster, jabbing into him, hurting him! He staggered, the blade falling to the dirt...and then he fell to the dirt, as the monster swirled away, his chest squeezing him so hard he couldn’t breathe...before everything turned black

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Maggie puttered through the back alleys, with one eye out for the shiny bits, and the other on the throttle. She’d known that damn potentiometer was wonky, but she’d been so sure she could coax a few more kilometers out of it. Ha! She’d already jury-rigged it as best she could, but what she really needed to do was find a spare. She could build one herself if she had to, but it would be clunky at best, given what she had to work with, and even more unreliable than what she was dealing with now.

At first blush, this new district didn’t look like a great place for setting up shop, but beggars couldn’t afford to be choosers. She’d slipped away in the night from her previous domicile one step...well, maybe two steps...ahead of the disgruntled locals and government enforcers, groups not known for their love of Humanity. It never took much; a questioning look, a missing item, an injured pet, and then the fingers would start to point. If there was any more important lesson she’d learned over the years than shit rolled downhill, she’d be hard-pressed to name it.

Ah well, you can’t change what is, and rule number one in this day and age was “Don’t Rock the Boat”. Stay low and out of sight, and keep moving. And tomorrow? Don’t let yourself start thinking about tomorrow. It only makes you crazy.

The throttle jerked for a moment, just long enough to give her a mild heart attack, before settling back down. Maggie glared at the pedal, daring it to try that again, and then turned her attention back to the hidden nooks and crannies of the warren she was winding her way through. It looked like an old industrial zone that’d fallen on hard times, which was as close to perfect as she was likely to find. There’d be nothing of immediate value here, a place like this would have been picked clean long ago, but then a Tinker had different priorities.

If the Tinkers had a motto, it’d be “One man’s junk is another man’s treasure”. It was amazing the stuff that got thrown out. The electric scooter she was puttering around on now was built completely from parts she’d scavenged here and there, and if it didn’t look like much, who cared? It worked. That was far more important to her than some bizarre notion of aesthetics. Half the stuff she found was the remains of some fad already passé before it hit the ground. Good, serviceable equipment, just needing a little TLC to bring it back to life.

Maggie pulled her scooter over to the side of the alley and switched it off. No sense wasting precious juice, and maybe it’d give that potentiometer a chance to settle down. There was a battered collection bin that looked promising, and feeling every one of her years she used the scooter for a boost, climbing up the side and peering down into the darkness. Nothing caught her practiced eye as she scanned the interior, which was a bit of a mixed blessing. If there had been something in there worth salvaging, not only would she have to climb down into the bin to retrieve it, but also figure out a way to climb back out. A few seconds eyeing the contents convinced her it was a bust, as she used her new perspective to look for better hunting grounds. She took her time, not wanting to miss any details, but as she made a slow pivot she could feel the disappointment threaten to spill over. This district wasn’t panning out the way she’d hoped, though...

...wait...what was that?

At first, it looked like a pile of trash, but that was before it moved. It didn’t look like one of the critters indigenous to this world, though she wasn’t an expert. She’d only arrived on Azhakom a few months earlier, taking transport on an old freighter. They were glad to see her, their last Engineer had moved on, leaving them in dire straits. She’d worked her passage, fixing what needed fixin’, just like always, and by the time they’d arrived the crew begged her to stay on. But she never liked to stay in one place for long, she was even more of a gypsy than most of her kind.

Maggie was about to shrug and continue her sweep when the blood in her veins seemed to freeze all at once. No...it couldn’t be...

She jumped down and fired up the scooter, whipping it around so fast it threatened to spill over, racing to where she’d spotted the strange object, and to Hell with the throttle. If she was right...

...in less than a minute, she was screeching to a halt and hopping off the scooter, scurrying over to where the child lay. A boy, rail-thin, unconscious and gasping for air while his limbs jerked and twitched, with flecks of white foam dotting his pale lips.

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“Oh, no...no no no no...” Maggie tugged at the boy’s clothes, searching for and fearing she’d what find...her eyes going wide at the bloody puncture mark at the base of his throat. “Dear God boy, what did you do?” she whispered, her mind reeling at what to do next. The puncture mark, the foam on his lips, the spasms...all clear signs of Xaak Symbiote poisoning.

If the boy did not get help soon...very soon...he would die.

The Azha-Xaak authorities had the antidote, of course, but going to them would lead to questions....questions she feared were better left unanswered. Xaak symbiotes weren’t reckless by nature, they only attacked when they saw a clear threat to their Azha hosts...and by their laws, the very fact that he had been poisoned was proof of his guilt.

The punishment, of course, was death.

Her own medical supplies were meager, her training haphazard at best, but it was enough to tell her she was in over her head. “Damnit,” she cursed, “damnit damnit damnit.” Maggie hesitated, caught between conflicting emotions...she couldn’t let him just die in the dirt, what kind of human would do that?...but taking him to those who could help came with its own set of repercussions.

Two starkly different paths before her, each with a price tag attached, and a single word echoing in her head.

Choose.

Maggie cursed as she grabbed the kid’s arm and threw it around her neck, hoisting him up. The skinny little runt was even lighter than she’d first thought, though by the time she finished dragging his unconscious body to her scooter and laid him down amongst the junk she’d already collected she was gasping with the effort. “Maggie old girl, you ain’t as young as you was,” she wheezed, tucking in his legs, before pulling out her minicomp and opening a rarely used app. Squinting at the cracked screen she input the search parameters, scowling as the answer popped up almost immediately. Almost an hour’s drive, which was something of a miracle. Humans were sparse on this world, more so than most.

Sparing her passenger a quick look she cursed yet again. Kid might not have an hour.

“Then stop wastin’ time,” she snorted, climbing on the seat and giving the power gauge a tap. It was gonna be close. Strapping in she tromped on the throttle, heading for the other side of the alien megalopolis.

Of course there wasn’t a direct route...or that is to say there was, just not one she dared take. Those thoroughfares were designated for much faster vehicles, and even assuming her scooter could keep up, it wasn’t strictly legal by the laws of this world. There were any number of safety regulations it fell woefully short of, not to mention the lack of any sort of license stating the required fees had been paid. Mostly, because she hadn’t bothered. Maggie couldn’t see the point...by the time she crossed paths with the local law enforcement, she’d already be making plans for her next hop. Simpler all around if she just avoided the hassle all together.

But if she took to the main streets they’d be on her faster than a Custom’s Agent on a crate of Sonoitii larvae. So she was forced to take a more meandering detour, one that kept her out of sight from the Azha-Xaak. Maggie stopped when she could, checking on the kid, but each time she looked his breathing got shallower and his color worse. Any margin she might have had was getting cut razor thin, so she firewalled the throttle and crossed her fingers. If that damn potentiometer could just hold on a little longer…

So of course ten minutes later, it coughed and came to a halt.

Her string of curses could have stripped paint off a hull as she kicked the scooter, only to hop around on one foot when she jammed up her big toe. Biting down on her tongue she limped over to check on the kid, peeling back an eyelid. His glassy stare and dilated pupils told a grim tale as she bowed to the inevitable, grabbing her toolkit and popping open the engine compartment. Getting the scooter running again was a simple enough matter...just a few minutes of butchery as she cross-connected the potentiometers.

It’d work alright...and burn itself out in the process. All those months scavenging and rebuilding, all wasted. Maggie sighed as she strapped back in, bracing herself as she hit the throttle. Jury-rigged like it was there were only two settings now...full stop, and full throttle, making for a bumpy ride. It was a good thing the kid was as far gone as he was, otherwise she’d have to listen to him whine and bitch. On a couple turns she almost pitched him out, even going up on two wheels at one point, before getting the beast back under control.

Maggie was forced to bypass several avenues that could have slashed her driving time when she spotted vehicles prowling about. Maybe it was nothing, maybe she could have bluffed her way past...but she didn’t like the odds. She’d survived as long as she had by listening to her gut, and right now it was telling her to go around.

She finally lurched to a halt in front of a nondescript building...just as the scooter coughed out an acrid cloud smelling of burnt electronics, before it wheezed and died. Maggie had resigned herself to its fate when she’d made the jury-rigged repairs, but she still took a few moments debating whether to scream, or silently mourn.

In the end she simply sighed, before turning her attention to her destination. It was an abandoned warehouse by all appearances, a red diamond blazing above the entrance. A handful of Azha lurked beneath the portico, but Maggie paid them no mind. It was the proprietors she was interested in, and besides, none of the aliens were cloaked within a Xaak symbiote. Losing a symbiote was bad news for them...they’d often go catatonic, or worse. The government was less than helpful in these matters, she come to learn, believing that a true Azha would have died along with its symbiote. It was an ancient custom, and not everyone adhered to it...but enough still followed the practice that aid was all but nonexistent.

So they’d come here, to the Knights, just as she had. They had a strict policy of not turning away anyone in need, as long as they had the resources to render aid. They were consummate Healers, but that was only part of their charter...for the Knights Hospitaller were also Warriors. Anyone under their protection was safe from harm...and they would die to the last defending them, if it ever came to that. It was a Code Maggie could respect...even if she couldn’t follow it herself.

“Hello in there!” Maggie shouted. “I got a kid who needs looking after!”

A figure appeared at the door, a kit slung over her shoulder. Her shoulder bore the rank of a Chevalier Troisième, her dark skin and hair hiding her emotions as she knelt awkwardly next to the scooter, checking out the kid. Maggie grimaced as she realized the young woman was several months pregnant, looking away as she glared at the Azha lounging nearby, daring them to come closer. None accepted the challenge.

“Symbiote poisoning,” the medic confirmed, as she tapped the communicator on her wrist. “Bring a stretcher out front,” she ordered, “and prep the ventilator stet.”

“On our way,” a voice replied, as the medic looked up at her.

“Family?” she asked. “One of your Clan mates?”

“Just stumbled across him,” Maggie replied, shaking her head. “I got no idea who he is.”

The young woman nodded, taking that in, as a pair of Sixièmes came running out carrying a stretcher. Orderlies then, she thought to herself, just starting their careers. They gently lifted the kid from the scooter before carrying him in.

“Well, come inside,” she smiled, giving Maggie the professional once over. “I suspect you could do with a good meal, and I have a feeling it’s been awhile since you last had a workup.”

Maggie shook her head, waving her off. “I just came here to drop off the kid,” she balked, stepping back. “Thanks anyway, but I got places to go…” her words grinding to a halt as she looked once again at the deceased scooter. “Well...fuck,” she sighed, before shrugging in defeat. “I guess I’ll take you up on that meal after all...at least til I can fix my ride,” she said at last. “But no poking and prodding!”

“Of course,” she smiled, as Maggie eyed her warily. When the KH looked at you like that you just knew the needles were coming out. “I’m Blye Tagata,” she said by way of introduction.

“...Maggie,” she answered, as she let the young Chevalier guide her inside.