A slap rang out. Sasha’s head snapped forward. He whipped around and faced June, teeth bared as if to bite her.
“You dumbass kid. Stop that. You did a shitty thing just now, but that doesn’t make you evil. Apologize to her.”
Disgust crawled over Sasha’s face. He looked at June, obstinate.
She glared back, just as unmovable. “Sasha, I’m serious. Apologize, and never do that again. Do you know who uses people like that? Do you want to be that kind of person?”
His expression morphed. Still disgust, but different. Directed inwardly. He stared at his feet for a long moment. Dark hair fell, a curtain obscuring his face.
When he looked up, he wore no expression at all. He met Arelia’s eyes again, but she couldn’t read anything there, not remorse, not the haughtiness he’d had ealier, nothing. “I’m sorry.”
“Mmm. I’d rather you said it like you meant it, but I guess that’s a start.” June sighed and shook her head, then turned to Arelia. “I’m sorry. This punk’s kind of stupid. I’ve still got to teach him a lot about this world.”
“Are you from off-planet?” Arelia asked, curious. She’d never met an off-worlder before, aside from the one time she’d gone to Esfabi’s concert, but he was an Asteri anyways, so that didn’t really count. Off-world non-Asteri were exceedingly rare, not least because they had no reason to visit a tiny border planet like this.
“Sometimes, I wonder that too,” June muttered to herself, looking at Sasha.
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“Oh, food’s up.” June took three sticks of curled, fried something from the vendor and handed them out.
“What is it?” Arelia asked, tilting her head at hers. She couldn’t figure out the shape. Potato, maybe? But there was something else, too. Some other substance, battered, fried, and curled around the stick.
“Chips’n’such. Try it. It’s delicious.” June took a big bite and closed her eyes in contentment.
“What’s the ‘such?’” Arelia asked.
June snorted. “Better if you don’t know.”
Savory aroma wafted off the stick. Crispy dough invited her. Hesitantly, she tried a bite. Starchy potato matched with the juicy, soft meat. Her eyes flew wide. “It’s so good!”
Sasha hesitated, looking at the stick.
“What, are you afraid?” Arelia mocked him.
He glared at her and took a bite. His eyes widened, and he took another bite.
“Oh shit, wait—can you eat that? Give that to me,” June demanded. She swiped for his food.
Sasha danced out of her reach and gobbled down the last few bites.
June sighed. “Dammit, kid.”
“What is it? The meat. I can’t recognize it,” Arelia asked, peering into the batter. It was pale in color, like chicken, but had a more delicate texture, akin to shrimp.
“You sure you want to know?” June asked, polishing off hers. She looked at the batter-flecked stick and grinned. “Mashed maggot. High-protein and incredible flavor. Just don’t think about where it comes from.”
“You’re kidding.” Arelia held the stick away from her like it was toxic. I ate… maggot? Her face took on a greenish tinge.
“I might be. You’ll never know,” June grinned.
“Slimy, fat maggot, squirmy and pale, thick stubby bodies and big black eyes,” Sasha added. He wiggled his fingers, imitating the wobble of a maggot.
She retched and dropped the stick in the nearest garbage can.
“Hey! Don’t waste good food! I would’ve eaten that.” June peered in the garbage can after the stick and sighed.
An alarm rang in her suit, startling her. Arelia wiped her mouth, pulled the helmet back up, and glanced at the time. Already? “I have to go.”
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
“So soon?” June said.
She nodded. “Thank you for the food. And…” she hesitated. A hand rested on the bag around her chest. “…stay away from downtown tonight.”
“Huh?”
Arelia extended the airfoils on her back and lit her engines. June and Sasha staggered back from the force of the blast as she took to the air. The food cart rocked, awning wobbling wildly in the wind. The food cart man ran after her, shouting, but there was no time. She was already late.
She sped off into the night. I have to do this. Father will never acknowledge me otherwise.
To her surprise, her heart shook. Sasha’s words came back to her. They aren’t people to you. You’d kill any of us.
It wasn’t true. But then, what was she doing? If it wasn’t true, then… why would she do this?
They aren’t people. They’re beasts, filthy beasts, her father’s voice argued.
The woman with plastic legs. The massive man with the silver teeth and metal hands, and the one in the black flightsuit. Her eyes hardened. Father was right. They are dangerous beasts.
Sasha, kicking the woman in the face. June, blasting the man in the back. Even Cherri, with fruits in her eyes and a languid smile as she let them past the point she was supposedly guarding. Sasha had used her, but… he’d fought for her. June had only wanted to help. Were they beasts? Were they lesser than her? Do they deserve… her hand fell to the bag.
It’s only a message. No one will get hurt. It’s fine. Still, something dragged at her conscience, something she couldn’t fully dismiss.
A tall apartment block stood empty-windowed and ragged before her. Wind rushed at her face, then sheered away and blew downward. Her airfoils shuddered. She fought the wind, to no avail. Broken glass rushed at her as the wind blew her into the wall.
Adrenaline rushed through her veins again. Desperately, she banked and swerved, fighting the wind. It fought back, stronger than her. The building was too close. She couldn’t swoop away. Arelia grit her teeth. Red lights flashed on her helmet’s HUD.
There, in the corner! A green circle highlighted a broken window. She threw her shoulders up, streamlined her body, and zoomed through the window into the building.
Another wall rushed at her as soon as she was past the first. She heaved her weight backward, lifted her foils, and cut the engine. Her feet clanged against bare floor, no carpet left after years of rain, wind, and decay.
Empty chairs stood around, some toppled, others still upright. Old upholstery clung to them in places. A desk or two stood by the edges of the room, sagging at the center. She walked softly, afraid heavy footsteps might collapse what was left of the décor.
The hallway was in a similar state. Walls sagged, heavy with water damage. What few ceiling tiles remained were ringed with mold or worse. She activated her helmet’s filter, suddenly afraid of what she might breathe in this skyscraper’s rotting corpse.
At least the staircase was the same as always. Solid walls, rusting handrails, concrete stairs. She hurried up, toward the top.
Half a rusted door blocked her way to the roof, the top half snapped off from years in the elements. She kicked it. The hinges snapped, and the whole thing fell forward, onto the roof.
“That’s one way to make an entrance,” a boy quipped.
That voice… Arelia turned. Two figures stood on the rooftop. One, a man with a metal face, a speaker where his mouth should be, stood with his shoulders square and hands held loosely. The other, a boy with lenses for eyes, let his too-long arms drape to the floor. Cuts and bruises marred what should have been a pretty face, though most of it was hidden by a wave of fluffy hair.
“You?” she asked.
He tipped his head, then smiled. “We meet again. I got the impression your father wanted to keep you out of this mess.”
“What he wants isn’t what I want.”
“I wonder. Did you beg him for this job, then?”
She scowled. “Flightsuits are expensive and hard to share. It’s only natural.”
“Hmm? I thought we were meeting on the rooftop for your sake.”
“What? But father said he picked me because you…” She furrowed her brows, confused.
Three glanced at his companion, then shrugged. “What’s done is done. Do you have it?”
She slung the bag from around her chest and handed it over. His long arms extended on graceful wires and drew the bag back to him, without him having to take a step.
“Must be convenient,” she muttered. With arms that long, she could laze on the couch and reach the remote no matter how far away she’d left it, or snake her arms through her entire room to grab toilet paper when she ran out… the applications were bottomless.
“It’s annoying when they come loose in my sleep and get tangled, though,” he replied casually. He checked through the bag. “Everything looks in order. The detonator?”
“Side pocket.”
Three smiled. “There it is. That’s everything, then.”
Arelia turned to go. The second her airfoils sprung from her shoulderblades, the other man spoke up. “Wait.”
She turned. He held out a small bundle to her. “Take this.”
“What is it?” Arelia crossed to him and took it.
“A second bomb. We need you to place it,” Chunk said.
Arelia frowned. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll detonate that bomb, just like this one. We need to borrow that flightsuit of yours, is all.”
She hesitated one more moment, then took it. I have to make decisions for myself, not rely on father to tell me everything. One day, I’ll be the one in charge. I can’t let him look down on me forever. “Where do I put it?”
“These coordinates.”
Numbers flashed across the inside of her helmet. Automatic navigation drew a path through the sky, lit up in dashed lines on her helmet’s display. She turned in the direction they pointed and paused. “That’s toward…”
“The red light district. There’s a small, filthy shop there that we need to punish. The Regis Group should understand how important it is to send a message.”
She glanced at the bag she’d brought, now in their hands. A message. She hesitated, then nodded. “I understand, but…”
“It’s a garage. Should be empty, this time of night. No one will get hurt.”
Arelia nodded again. As long as no one gets hurt. She jogged to the edge and leaped off. A second later, white and gold streaked through the air, off toward the horizon.