A horrific screeching is ripping through my head and it feels like my brain’s melted into porridge. Each movement is painful. Each thought is pain. I can breathe, but each time I inhale daggers begin skewering their way into my chest and forcing me still. Some involuntary, guttural, sound bursts through my lips. Or where my lips should be at any rate.

A voice. Two voices. They’re mumbling to each other back and forth, and one is slower and more drawn while another is swift, sharp, and demanding. Words start seeping in, but my porridge brain can’t string them together correctly. Or make out context. Or anything. I’m probably not dead, since it’s far too painful right now, but I almost wish I did die as I inhale again and my chest becomes a pincushion for metal blades slicked with lemon juice. No, barbs. Rusty barbs coated in lemon juice. And salt. Maybe some acid to spice things up even more, why the hell not?

Words start making sense.

The sharp words say, “-to know how you filthy street monkey. An illegally modified Skysail. That’s it, isn’t it? Fess up, we both know you’ll slip the trial.” It’s nasal. High-strung.

“As I said, my man—they’re wasted,” it’s Boarder. “I don’t care about your big warships or recruitment quotas. Syndicate’s got my back. Zephyrin and his pal were in hiding, they came out, and we smoked ‘em. Simple as.”

There’s something hard, uncomfortable, and dusty beneath me. I open my eyes, and my vision begins trickling into a muddy, hazy, sludge looking like some hack job art piece I’ve ripped from a mansion in the capital or another. I sniffle, finding my nose clogged to the brim with snot. What air I get through is stale, musty, and sour. I’m in Boarder’s attic. I gotta be.

Speaking of snotty, the nasal guy pipes up again, “If they’re still here we’ll find them sooner or later. When we do, you’ll be found in opposition to Imperial standards and practices.”

“Wait bro, so putting bullets through their brains wouldn’t be that. Plus the whole murdering their asses in cold blood aspect of things?” A sniffle. “Bummer.”

Stomping feet and what sounds like a tarp being ripped, fading into nothing in seconds. It’s like the guy Boarder’s talking to tried to slam a door that wasn’t there.

I hear breathing. It’s close, but not too close. Slowly, my eyes start making sense of my nearly pitch-black surroundings. Light beams are lasering their way through needle-sized gaps in thatched walls, a snowstorm of dust settling into leather-lined crates, rope-bound packages, and rows upon rows of random items. Antiques, paintings, gems, and what’s probably drugs. I’ve never been up here before, but it must be where Boarder keeps what we pilfer for him. Beside me, in a space between junk, is Ji. He’s out cold, a thin line of drool seeping from a slack jaw, and his eyes two husks staring blankly in my direction where his messy hair doesn’t obscure them.

Footsteps. Lighter than the other ones. They’re weaving their way through a couple of corridors, some sharp sound, then they’re stomping up somehow. Coming closer. Higher. I slap myself, reeling up into a rough sitting position and throwing up my fists. I’m killing this idiot. As soon as he’s up here I’m going to grab his throat and plant his head through an exposed nail jutting from planks in the floor. The sound is mere feet away, but it ceases. A voice comes.

It says, “You guys feeling fish tonight, or li-”

“-Piss off!” I’m breathing hard, and it hurts really bad but my heartbeat and adrenaline are smothering it away. Words are tumbling aimlessly from my mouth. “You come up here and I’m going to kill you and you’ll die!”

“Man, I’d hope I die if you kill me otherwise something might be kinda’ wrong.”

“Shut up!”

There’s a lull, during which I’m frantically looking around for an improvised weapon, or an especially sharp gemstone, or a way to get that crooked nail out. I shake Ji, and a pig-like sound gurgles from his mouth. Something between a snore and a moan.

“I thought you guys would wake up in a couple more hours, honestly,” Boarder says.

“You tried killing us, what are you talking about?”

“You’re thinking irrationally. It’s not real. None of it was, man.”

I manage a few breaths that for once don’t hurt. They can only suck in through my mouth as I try swallowing the built-up phlegm in my nose

I say, “Explain.” I trust nothing, but I desperately want to believe what he’s saying.

“So, fish?”

It’s around an hour and a half later, the sun is bleeding to death outside, and I, Boarder, and Ji are resting around a long rectangular table overflowing with food. Fried fish, crispy potatoes, and some sauce intrude through my newly-opened nostrils with a forceful, unrelenting, sour, and delicious scent. Chen’s in the kitchen alone, helping herself to a portion of the meal she made set aside for herself. Last time Boarder tried his hand he’d made burnt rubber pucks from premium meat I ripped from a banker’s cellar. I wasn’t happy.

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I’d been pried down from my final stand following what’d been about a ten-minute conversation accentuated by Ji’s remarkably disgusting breaths. Boarder refused to elaborate on his claims that he was keeping us safe, but his ranting about fish, business, and musings on how uncomfortable Imperial uniforms must be somehow got me off the ledge. Ji had said maybe six words since his waking, and now his eyes wander dully through a small window, presumably trying to make out the intricacies in a vocator pole and its web of black wires.

My eyes won’t peel away from Boarder, legs ready to lunge at him with a moment’s notice. He keeps glancing up at me every once in a while but fails to keep eye contact. The air feels like a thick sheet of static.

Boarder takes a bite of some fish after dipping it into the sauce bowl and says, “Sorry for shooting you.”

“Thanks,” I say.

He swirls his fish around in some fried rice, “You, like, want to eat some food?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

He coughs, swallows, and fixes his eyes on Ji, “It was nice of you to do what you did, bro.”

Ji nods. Slowly. Repeatedly. His eyes keep staring at the pole.

“There’s an Imperial agent who can sense you two, and Boarder made it so they couldn’t. Is it really that hard to just say that?” Chen’s voice cuts like a switchblade. She mutters something under her breath and I can make out a few curses.

“Uh, yeah.” Says Boarder. “It’s a trick I can do. You both needed to truly believe you were about to die.”

“Well, great job. Think we both did,” I say.

Boarder exhales long and heavy, standing.

“Look at me.” He says.

I do so, and his eyes ignite red, scorching my flesh and bone away till there is only my soul. I can’t breathe. I can’t move.

He smiles, “Gotcha.”

As this word leaves his mouth I snap free, and he’s staring at me with two bored auburn pupils per usual. Completely bonkers.

“Wait, is that Kambria?” I say.

“Nah, that stuff’s not my forte. Ji, I guess, is more inclined towards that.”

“Ah yeah, that weird bubble thing.” I look at Ji, who’s idly nibbling at some fish. “C’mon, you’re holding out on me with something like that, huh? What’re the odds, anyway, only, like, one in a thousand’s got the talent, was it?”

“Odds are even crazier, man,” Boarder says, “you’ve got the talent for Kambria too. That’s why the guys in uniform are swarming right now.”

Chen’s aiming at Boarder with a loaded stare. She usually does this when there’s something he isn’t supposed to say. But what? The guy’s lips hang idly open, but his eyes hold on Chen. She’s shutting him up.

I say, “Come on, the secret’s out. Tell me.”

“See your mom first, kid.”

“What?”

Boarder lights up some tobacco, fumbles onto his haunches, and blows a steady gout of peppery smoke into my face. His eyes glow and smolder through the cloud. Red.

He says, “See your mom. I promised you an explanation when you were holed-up in my store room and I gave it. You make it back after, we'll spill the rest.”

A nod from Chen.

I spring to my feet like a bomb went off below me, the table grinding aside from where my chest strikes its edge. Boarder reels back like I’ve already hit him. Ji flinches.

“What the hell are you two scheming?!” I ball my fist and wrench my foot back. “A moment ago you were gunning us down and now you’re ordering me back home like I’m some…” it lingers on my tongue’s edge, but it’s locking up in distaste, “...like I’m some kid.”

Chen kicks off the wall, one leg creeping past another noiselessly as she shoves past Boarder, arms folding across her chest.

She says, “A child is exactly what you are, Zephyrin.” Flat-heeled boots click on hardwood flooring, Chen drawing back a sliding screen, stepping into the dusty and junk-filled lot behind Boarder’s shop.

Her grace infuriates me. Those idle, frozen, eyes, that casual strut like she’s going for a nice stroll in the woods to find another stick to shove up her ass. I’m stomping, and before my thoughts catch up I’m face-to-face with her.

Chen says, “You think you’re entitled to our wisdom because you’ve stolen some fancy rocks?” Her boot taps impatiently, weight leaning comfortably to one hip.

Boarder seats himself, legs drooping idly between the foundation and coarse, gravelly, pavement in the threshold where the sliding door had been drawn.

“Here we go,” he says.

I can’t move. Chen’s presence crushes me, and her performance against that Imperial guy is fresh in my mind. She’s not some regular girl, but all the same, am I going to start swinging like some brute? Her eyes are stained with a hazy film, and she’s standing like it’s some droning lecture. The fire’s burning again.

“Catch,” says Chen, her hand reaching to a pouch in her suit’s leg.

There’s a silvery shimmer, a wavy metal song, and pain. Blunt, crushing, pain trying to cave my skull in. I groan. Somehow I’ve been laid flat into pavement and dust, a meaty cough forcing its way through my throat as I reel and writhe. I curse, pounding my fist and clawing my way into a rough sitting position. I can’t lose.

Chen is above me. Again, I’m frozen. Her blizzard consumes my flame.

She says, “Get up.”

I do, barely, and spit. Everything’s wobbly. I put up my hands. Her boot reels up, coiling like a viper, but my block will eat it and I’ll grab her. She pauses, sturdy on a single straightened leg, before driving her boot heel at me like a spear. My arms slam my chest, and all my breath bursts from my lungs. A shout bursts up but becomes a paltry rasp. I’m in a ball, rocking back and forth. I need to inhale. It’s all I can do, nothing else matters. Voices bombard me. Calm voices speaking down to me. My fire’s back, I’m angry, but my body won’t obey. I breathe, and breathe, and breathe once more.

“Get up,” says Chen.

Feet hit the ground, parched dust swirling into nothingness around them. It’s Boarder.

“Enough of this, man. See your mom. I’ll debrief ya afterward, alright?” he says.

“Why?” I force back. Pain spears through me and my fist slams gravelly concrete.

“It’s the last you’re gonna’ see of her,” a pause, a sigh, “for a long, long, time.”