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KALON
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Chapter Forty-Two: Katac dar Jukora
Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant
Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation
Solar System: D-447
Planet: Ora
Location: Above the planet's surface
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The craft rattles against the frigid gusts of wind outside, the metal groaning as chunks of hail batter against it relentlessly. The front viewport is heated, watching the ice that strikes it melt reminds me of the steam pipes in my city. Arrum and I used to melt water on them to drink, using the large icicles. Bitter water, tasting of ash, but better than the parch of a thirsty mouth.
“Kuwathi dog, how does it feel to be sold?” Betran asks me.
My jaw tightens. My tongue is busy adjusting the item that Yuri gave me. I almost have the clasp off it, once I do… I will be ready to make my move. Even if I could speak, I wouldn’t reply to such a question. His hand spins the blade again, a smirk hangs on the corner of his lip.
“This one talks about as much as you do,” Betran says to the grumbling man.
The man grunts, but his eyes squint at me, looking at my jaw. Which causes me to stop moving it. He is too observant. For hours he has watched me closely.
“Boss, storm incoming about thirty minutes out.” The pilot says.
“Frags sake.” Betran says “This gloweye planet is such a slaghole.”
“Agreed.” The grumbling man says, he is about to say something more but the comms on the ship explode with chatter.
The grumbling man finally turns his gaze away from me to look towards the pilot. I move my tongue quickly in the absence of his gaze, I may not have another chance to. My thoughts shift as I feel something strange in my clothes as I move my hips. It is the thing that Korra snuck on me. Its edges are sharp like… the black box. Her words play on my mind now. Kinar Vulok. Why would she say that though? What is the true meaning behind it? Nothing is ever simple with her. Why is it so important to her that I have the box? What do the voices in her head tell her?
“What the frag is going on,” Betran asks.
“I don’t know, Republic jargon.” The pilot says.
“Well, find out.” Betran says now standing up and walking over to the comms “Why the slagging hells is a Republic cruiser this deep in Talum Merchant Federation territory?”
The pilot turns on the comms and says “Uh hello there, this is…”
“Frags sake.” The grumbling man says stepping over there now too “Move aside.”
He shifts to the side of the pilot’s chair close to the comms and presses it. My tongue moves faster, it is hard to adjust though without my hands. Relief washes over me as I feel the metallic click and the hum, the heat from the device in my mouth becomes higher. Dropping it from my mouth, I catch it on my boot, tucking it under carefully. It is primed. Now I just need to wait for my moment. They were foolish not to restrain my legs.
“Delta one, this is Arasha group C-fifty from sector B-one-three-five, requesting information on the Republic comms interference, over.”
The comms buzz and a voice speaks after a few moments “This is Delta one actual, all ships are to be grounded, return to the nest, I repeat return to the nest, over.”
“Roger, Delta one.” The grumbling man says, then pressing the comms again “Is there any information you can give us Delta one?”
There is a pause for a moment, the grumbling man looks at Betran, rolling his neck.
“The Republic of Hekate and the Gallec Empire are having a pissing contest in low orbit.” The man on the comms says.
“Roger that, we will be back soon.” The grumbling man says, backing away from the comms panel.
“Well I’ll be, I forgot you used to be a soldier,” Betran says.
The grumbling man says nothing. He sits back down looking at me again.
“Should I head back boss?” the pilot asks.
“No, this changes nothing.” Betran says, then looking towards me with a grin “We have important cargo to deliver.”
There is no protest from the other two men. It makes me wonder where they are taking me. Even if I somehow gain control, where will I go? How will I get there? My nerves are fraying as I think about it. Stay focused. One step at a time.
“Never a good thing when those two start pissing.” The grumbling man says.
“They know better than to fight outside of their territory. Talum Merchant Federation is under the Imperium’s protection.” Betran says.
We Kuwathi know little of the other governments in the galaxy, but there is one organization that all know. The Theocratic Imperium. It is their gods the masters say to worship above all others. Few of us do though. Most revere the old gods of our people. Kuwathi and Hempki are the most common in my city. Though some, like Korra, and my mother before she died, worship less reputable ones. My mother did so in secret though, unlike Korra. She is reckless for it. It was stupid to think it, but when I saw her, I could not help but hope she was there to free me.
I wonder what Kuwathi in other cities worship, we know we are not the only ones, though the outer clans are told little of the way of things. Only the inner clans know of such things. The Sage used to tell me that there were thousands of cities on this planet. Even more on other worlds. He said many things, and also kept many things from me. I wonder if he knew I could use Netheric Maka. What does it all mean?
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Less than an hour has passed when suddenly a blinding light from the sky fills the cabin, breaking me from my fickle thoughts.
“By the gods…” the pilot shrieks.
My eyes readjust to the light as it begins to fade. I struggle against the metal of the ship's hull, I realize quickly I won’t be able to break free. Vek.
I focus on the large glass viewport in front of the pilot’s chair and my eyes grow wide. In the skies above I see massive balls of fire and two large ships falling from orbit towards the planet’s surface. I blink my eyes and they are still there. What is happening?
“War must be coming.” The grumbling man says with a sigh.
“Surely not, it’s been nearly fifty years since anyone in this quadrant broke the pact,” Betran says, holding his hand up against the light “Just a small scuffle. Happens all the time.”
The grumbling man lets out an annoyed sigh but doesn’t disagree further.
As I watch the starships fall, burning up in the atmosphere illuminating the night sky, and seeing the countless lives being snuffed out, I suddenly feel an insignificance wash over me. My mind comes to focus when I see a large chunk of a flaming ship veering towards us.
“Move over.” The grumbling man says ripping the pilot out of the chair and throwing him.
The blood in my face slams against my skull as I feel the ship groan, he pushes the accelerator and turns sharply. The blood throbs in my eyes. The pilot and Betran fly to the side of the cabin, I hang suspended in the air. The magnetic force that holds the cuffs groans under the pressure. The ship above breaks apart further as a blast hits it, spewing metal everywhere. The man swerves to avoid it.
Something smashes into one side of the Arasha’s craft and we spin wildly. Red lights flash in the cabin. The grumbling man punches the panels with his stubby fingers correcting the spin. There are holes in the ship now, the metal sparks and the wind swallows all other sound. Another explosion behind us, the shockwave rattles the ship.
Shrapnel sprinkles violently through the cabin whizzing past me. Clanging and pounding the ship. Blood splatters as a large piece sheers through the back and decapitates the man who grumbles no more.
Sekat.
The ship begins to slow, his lifeless hand no longer pushing the throttle down. I hear smaller explosions all around us, my ears are ringing.
The craft strikes the tundra below, sliding uncontrollably. We finally come to a halt after a minute and Betran stumbles up, a large cut on his brow. The pilot is shaking, he somehow managed to strap himself to the wall.
“Slaggin hells!” Betran yells, before he begins to laugh, I think he is in shock. He punches the codes for the loading bay door and it groans and snaps, the door falling off with a thud onto the snow.
I look out and I see a hellscape of fire and metal. Smoke billows into the red night sky above. He walks outside and raises his hands in the air.
The pilot unbuckles and follows him warily.
“Boss we, we shouldn’t stay here.” He stammers, jumping at the explosions “The Krothaspawn will get us.”
I have seldom heard this term before, it is one of their words for the Shulka. When I asked the Sage about it, he said he would explain someday… that day never came.
“Would you fragging relax.” Betran says, giving him an annoyed look “We just survived a shuttle crash, after our pilot was turned into…”
He tilts his head to the side looking at the mangled corpse of the grumbling man.
“What would you call that?” Betran asks, scratching his chin, blood dripping down his forehead onto his furs soaked in the grumbling mans blood and brain matter.
“Sorry boss, I just…” the frail pilot begins, but never finishes as a large piece of metal smashes him to a pulp spraying blood all over Betran.
Betran stumbles backward, another piece of metal slams where he once stood. He looks at me.
“Did you see that?” he yells, laughing manically looking skyward “I’m blessed by the gods.”
He kicks the dead pilots boot, the only thing left of him.
“Slag. What a way to go.” Betran says stumbling toward the craft now.
He wipes his eyes of blood. My hands are still bound by metal and attached to the hull. Desperately, I try to pull them free, but whatever is powering it has not turned off.
“What is that…” he says peering at something out of my view. He walks off towards it.
Looking around I try to see if I can reach anything with my legs. The device Yuri gave me would not be useful here, besides, I don’t know where it rolled, probably fell out during the crash. Vek, think faster.
Before I can find anything he walks back. He raises his weapon towards me and fires. My eyes clench shut. I feel my arms fall down, no longer attached to the hull. I open my eyes slowly and look upwards, a panel on the wall has sparks flying out of a molten hole in it.
“Stop being so dramatic, let’s go dog.”
Standing now, my wrists still bound by the cuffs. Looking towards the sky as I exit the craft, I can’t help but wonder how we… how I will survive this. Pushing the thought from my mind I focus on the present. I move towards him slowly.
“No, no, stay the frag back,” Betran says warily.
Can I close the five paces between us before he can kill me… better not to risk it.
“Over there, fetch doggie.”
Looking towards where he points I see a figure slumped on the ground clutching their waist. It looks like they fell in some kind of escape pod but were injured during landing or perhaps they are dead. As soon as my back is turned to him I fiddle with my cuffs, I’m not sure exactly how they work, but I saw them doing something with their wrist device. The masters call it a holopad, I think. If I am to get free, I will need it.
A whooshing near my head stuns me. He shoots the ground near my feet next.
“Hurry the frag up.”
Moving with a purpose I rush to the figure. They stir when I approach, trying to sit up. They clutch at their side, blood seeps from it, a large chunk of metal lodged in them. There is something on their waist that I slip into my grasp. They groan as I move them over. I see now from their frame it is a woman. Her hand grasps at me, the grip firmer than I expected, as it slides down, it stops on the black box. Pulling it out.
“You…” she says.
I know the voice, my eyes blink quickly. How is she here?
The woman shifts over, pulling the box from me. Her deep blue hair hangs from a crack in her helmet.
“Are they alive?” He asks loudly a mere five paces from me.
“Barely,” I say, being pulled back to reality. Looking down at her waist, there is a steady stream of blood coming from her side now that she has moved. Yet, still, she clutches the box firmly.
“What are they holding?” he says stepping forward another pace.
“A box of some kind…” I begin, but stop as I look closer, I see there are markings on it, glowing now as her blood rolls on it. Ornate designs form intricate patterns. There is writing on it that strikes me, it is in the old tongue of the Kuwathi.
“Well get a better fraggin look. My cousin is right you know.” He sighs coming one step closer “Slag for brains, dogs, the lot of you.”
Pulling at the box, her grip tightens, she is strong even on the edge of death.
“Don’t let them get it, bring it to…” she says, her grip loosens as she passes out.
“Well, what is it?”
I grab the box and turn to him, back in the moment once more, a smile forms on my face as I read the words in the center.
“It reads, Katac dar Jukora.” I say, looking at the lines glowing deeper. Other words beginning to inscribe on it.
“The frags that mean, give it here.” He says holding out a hand and taking one more step forward, he is two paces from me now.
“In your tongue it means,” I say, now beginning to grin “Hail Thy Gods.”
“What the slag is so funny about that?"
“It is fitting.” I say tossing the box towards him, higher than eye level, he looks up and reaches out a hand “Because I send you to meet them.”
I raise my hand, in it a weapon I took from the woman’s belt, pointing it at him I pull the trigger. A red light flashes on the side. I pull again, but nothing happens. Sekat.
He looks down and sees this now, his eyes becoming wide as he points his weapon towards me and fires. I would be dead, but I am Ulima; my entire life I have trained for one singular purpose, to survive… kill or be killed. I roll towards him closing the gap, my ribs ache as I do, and his next shot flies past me. As I roll I grab the small knife hidden deep within my boot heel.
He fires quickly. Again, and again. I roll again to the side, blade in hand as I rise to meet him, he is less than a pace from me now… it is my domain. He stumbles backward, his hands shaking as he desperately fires at me. It is too late though, I am upon him now. My blade finds purchase under his arm as I slide it across his arteries, slashing the tendons. Soaking his many furs in his blood. His weapon drops from his hand. I stab him again under the arm before it hits the ground.
He tries to stop the bleeding desperately.
He stumbles to his knees. I drag my blade across his throat and kick him to the dirt. Leaning down, pulling back his hair as his eyes begin to glass I say one thing to him.
“Woof.”