“How did you decide to become an Outlaw?” I asked.

The woman sitting across the tavern table from me laughed as she knocked back the rest of her drink in one gulp. Jessa was a tall and beautiful Salani woman with wild sapphire hair. She had the strong, sturdy build and smooth, dark complexion shared by most Salani. Her jovial yet feisty personality, however, was an anomaly among the stoic and militaristic Salani culture.

“Nobody decides to become an Outlaw, Skye,” Jessa said after finishing her drink. “We’re born Outlaws, at heart. Wandering around the galaxy aimlessly, trying to figure out why we never seem to fit in anywhere, chafing against the reins of society, just looking for that next big adventure.”

“Sounds familiar,” I said, sardonically.

“No shit!” Jessa said with a burst of laughter. “You’re the most Outlaw person I’ve ever met. That’s for damn sure. We’re all just waiting on you to figure it out and throw in your hat.”

“I don’t know. You know I can’t stand the idea of being tied down. Committing to something for life? That’s a little out of my comfort zone.”

“And what has comfort gotten you so far?” Jessa responded. “Don’t try to tell me that your dream in life is to be comfortable. I know better.”

Jessa leaned forward in her seat, braced her arms on the table, and took a more serious tone.

“You’re an Outlaw, whether you admit it or not, Skye. Being free and independent isn’t the same thing as always being alone.”

“I know,” I responded with a sigh, taking a sip of my own drink. “It just always seems to turn out that way.”

“It’s because you choose for it to be that way,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re not the only one in the galaxy who feels that yearning for adventure, for wide open spaces and the freedom to roam around in it as you choose. Yet, you seem to be the one determined to do it all by yourself. You’re vulnerable alone. A woman with no country to belong to.”

“To be fair,” I said, “I was kind of born that way.”

“There are always going to be battles you can’t fight alone. Freedom is worthless without the means to protect it.”

Jessa leaned back and picked up the bottom of her shirt, exposing an intricate tattoo on her lower abdomen. It looked like an ornately carved oval with a wavy line bisecting the center horizontally. I’d seen it before. It was her Outlaw Mark. Every Outlaw had the same one. It was sacred to them.

“This mark has built a nation for people like you and me. That’s why we fight for it, why we die for it. To us, it represents the freedom to pursue every dream we’ve ever had or ever will have. And we’d do anything to protect it, not out of obligation to some oath we took but because we refuse to let anyone take that dream from us.”

“Mine to take,” I said, parroting the Outlaw creed I had heard her say many times.

“And mine to KEEP,” she said with emphasis.

Suddenly, everything in the tavern froze. I looked around confused as time seemed to move in slow motion. Feeling a sharp pain in my right shoulder, I looked down to see the outline of the Outlaw’s Mark searing its way through my shirt, burning like embers like a hot brand eating its way through my skin.

I screamed in pain...

* * *

“Skye!”

My fist connected sharply with Dick’s nose as I jerked awake. I instantly regretted the action, not just because I had punched him for no reason but because of the sharp pain that ripped through my injured arm as a result.

After leaving Veridi last night, the adrenaline rush keeping me on my feet through the blood loss and pain had worn off. Vomero and Ryuuk had helped me treat the open gash in my arm Katra’s blaster had left. Luckily, blaster wounds tended to cauterize themselves for the most part. Yet, I had still lost quite a bit of blood before I could get it wrapped up during our escape.

After Vomero and Ryuuk finished tending the wound thoroughly with our newly purchased med supplies, Cash had given me a sedative to sleep through the pain. Of course then I had to go punch someone in the face before I’d even awoken fully.

Not smart, Skye.

I calmed my heaving breath and supported my elbow until the pain subsided. Absently, I rubbed the spot above my right clavicle. The dream had felt so real, once again.

“You were screaming in your sleep,” Dick said, touching his nose carefully. “Bad dreams?”

“Not really,” I said. “Old memories but good ones. The end is always a bitch though.”

I looked at him and grimaced.

“Sorry about the nose.”

“I would say remind me never to get in a fight with you, but that ship sailed already,” he said, grinning. “At least you didn’t punch me in the side again.”

I was suddenly very aware of how few clothes he seemed to be wearing, crouched over my bedroll, where I was also wearing very few clothes. Dick was wearing little more than a pair of boxer-briefs. At least they were the Syreni style and material, so they wore more like wetsuit shorts. Thankfully, most of me was covered under the bedroll blanket, but I basically had on my shirt and underwear, as well.

“Don’t,” I warned as I felt the subtle tingle of his pheromone juju brush up against my senses.

He stood and hauled in a deep breath, moving back to the doorway.

“Just so you know, it’s not always under my control,” he said.

“I’ve felt you completely hide it when you wanted to,” I rebutted.

“It takes a lot of concentration to accomplish,” he said, raking a hand through his hair in frustration, “and for beautiful women not to be giving off come-sex-me vibes.”

“I was not!” I probably lied.

“News flash, Skye, my ability works both ways,” he said. “I don’t just put out vibes, I pick up on them, too.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I could feel my eyes grow round in horror. Jumping to my feet in agitation, I quickly pulled on my discarded pants and tucked my shirt into it.

“You’re saying you can...sense...when someone is feeling attracted to you?! How is that fair?” I asked to nobody in particular. “You literally make everyone attracted to you.”

He turned to leave, and I followed him down the hallway to the lounge area. It was empty save for the old man, who was passed out on one of the sofas. Most of the crew had strung up makeshift bunks and hammocks in the cargo bay now that the “entity” was no longer creeping everyone out in there.

“You might find it interesting to know that it doesn’t affect everyone the same way,” Dick said, smugly and poured himself some juice from the bar fridge. He then took two ice packs from the deep cooler and passed one to me for my arm before putting the other on his face.

“Oh don’t even try the whole ‘it’s not my fault you liked what I’m putting down’ thing again,” I whispered heatedly, not trying to wake anyone up but unable to stay unaffected. “Not when you’ve been dousing me in your hormones.”

He gave me an exasperated look, took the ice pack I was still holding, and pressed it lightly to my bandaged wound as he spoke.

“Well, this time, I was minding my own business when you started screaming in the middle of the night,” he said. “Then one might say you started dousing me in your hormones.”

I seethed silently at him, torn between ripping my arm out of his grasp for spite and leaving it because the ice helped a lot.

“You were in my room in your underwear!” I said through clenched teeth.

“I still am in my underwear, technically,” he pointed out. “And yet you seem to be controlling yourself just fine, now.”

He steered me back toward the hallway leading to the makeshift sleeping quarters. Stopping at the door to my closet, he slid the door open and maneuvered me inside until I was on one side of the threshold and he was on the other, standing in the hallway.

“I appreciate your newfound restraint, by the way,” he continued in mock sincerity. “I was starting to feel harassed by all your overpowering sexual energy.”

In one deft move I snatched the ice pack from his hand and slammed the door shut in his face, narrowly missing his nose again. I leaned my forehead against it for a moment trying to maintain my frustration and fighting the urge to smile at his ridiculousness.

A low, deep chuckle rumbled on the other side of the door, and I jerked my head up to stare at the metal panel in front of me.

“Sweet dreams, Alnasi,” his voice carried softly through the door followed by the sound of footsteps retreating down the hallway.

No way in hell I'm going back to sleep, I thought to myself. There’s no telling what kind of dreams I’ll end up having this time.

Instead, I waited a few minutes to make sure Dick had time to get back to his bunk then slipped out of my room again. I made my way past the lounge area and the sleeping old man, down the far hall to the control room.

The ship was on a modified autopilot Vomero had rigged up. It kept us moving at a sedate pace, avoiding obstacles and warning us if something bigger than marine life approached us. We hadn’t planned past escaping Veridi. The ship was stocked with enough supplies to last us at least a couple weeks, but we still needed to agree on our next plan of action.

Sitting in the pilot’s chair, I flipped on the view screen and applied the ice pack to my arm again. There wasn’t a lot to see. We were still traveling deep within the ocean, although not as deep as the trenches encasing Veridi. Still, the occasional bioluminescent marine life made a dazzling display on the view screen.

Without much to focus on externally, my mind wandered inward. Like the last dream, this one had been a memory.

It was after I left Ascella and set out on my own. Like Jessa had implied, trying to live a life of freedom and adventure often left one vulnerable. Young and naïve, I had taken a lucrative job offer only to be left holding the bag when the authorities came down.

Jessa and her crew saw me trying to escape and had been particularly interested in my summoned daggers. They used some goodwill they had earned in a previous dealing to smooth things over with the local authorities and get me released. In return, I agreed to do a job with them. It was after that successful mission when I had the conversation with Jessa from my dream.

It was strange how I could remember her words so clearly in the dream. It must be something from the subconscious. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to recall everything so perfectly, otherwise. Well almost perfectly. The searing pain of the Outlaw Mark burning its way through my skin never happened, thankfully.

I reached up to rub the spot on my right clavicle absently as I thought about my own Outlaw Mark, picturing in my mind the intricate O bisected horizontally by a wavy line. I took the Outlaw oath soon after that conversation and joined Jessa’s crew for a time before forming my own.

Every Outlaw carried the same mark in more than just the literal, physical sense. Eventually, I came to understand what Jessa was trying to tell me that day in the tavern. It wasn't a brand representing a commitment. The Outlaw’s Mark symbolized a dream.

It stood for every Outlaw’s right to live their life as they chose. Instead of a shackle to tie me down, I came to realize it was a key to the one that had always been holding me back. The keys to the kingdom I never knew I belonged to.

Jessa had been right about a lot of things back then; my plans did seem to go awry whenever I was trying to go it all on my own. The years I spent with her crew, and then my own, had been some of the best times of my life. It wasn’t until I started to get antsy and play lone wolf again that things ended up, well...here.

I thought about the group sleeping on the ship. They were an unlikely cadre of allies, but the universe had thrown us together for better or worse.

“Being free and independent isn’t the same thing as always being alone...There are always going to be battles you can’t fight alone.”

Her words echoed in my mind. Maybe it was time to stop fighting the only people on this planet with whom I shared I common goal. Maybe it was time to accept that, at least for the time being, we were a crew, whether we liked it or not.

In doing so, we just might find the strength to win the battles we were facing, instead of just surviving them.

The door to the control room swished open, drawing me out of my ruminations. Vomero stepped through carrying two cups of steaming coffee. I gave him an earnest expression, hoping one of the cups was for me.

He rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Don’t look so pitiful,” he said. “Of course one is for you. Do you know what two cups of coffee would do to my nerves?”

I took the cup he offered and inhaled deeply, humming in appreciation.

“I see your point,” I said. “Nobody wants a jittery technomancer who shoots electricity out of his fingers.”

“What’s got you up so early?” Vomero asked. “I figured that sedative Cash gave you would put you down at least a few more hours.”

“Strange dreams,” I said simply. “You?”

“I just toss and turn,” he said. “I wanted to make things better for the Syreni people, but we probably made it worse.”

“That’s not on us, Vomero. That situation was fucked up long before we got drawn into it. We were just the scapegoats. The only people worse off from our involvement is ourselves.”

He stared silently at the viewscreen. Things were starting to lighten up slightly outside. Either we were getting closer to the surface or the sun was starting to rise high enough to penetrate farther into the ocean’s depths. There were all types of sea creatures we could see swimming by. Most gave the transport plenty of space, detecting our defensive shields.

After a long silence spent watching the wildlife, Vomero took a deep breath and sighed.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said. “Maybe we didn’t make things worse, but I still hate those bastards are getting away with fleecing their entire country.”

I nodded, fully understanding where he was coming from.

Despite an Outlaw’s aversion to rules and boundaries, we weren’t an indiscriminate society of depraved heathens. As Jessa had said, you didn’t ask to become an Outlaw, rather someone would usually recognize a kindred spirit, and after proper vetting, invite them into the fold. Our coalition consisted of similarly minded people, and those people didn’t enjoy senseless murder and mayhem.

Maybe that’s why what Owen and his benefactors were doing sat so sour in my mouth. I was as much a believer in the “take what you can” philosophy as anyone, but murdering an entire city of innocent people to get it...just seemed like a perversion.

“Well, I doubt we’ve seen the last of Owen or his mysterious associates,” I said. “I have something they want. And if they want it back, they’re welcome to try and take it from me.”

Mine to take, mine to keep, I thought to myself. And with the combined strengths of this new crew, we might have the means to do just that.

Vomero nodded, his eyes less sullen and more determined.

“Damn straight.”