CHAPTER EIGHT

  "Ten minutes to destination," a synthetic voice chimed from the cockpit. Soran recognized the voice as a T series navigation system, a staple of most standard cargo and scouting vessels from last-century product lines.

  "Well, will you look at that," Ranna said, marveling through the viewing portal. No matter how often he saw it, the towering city never failed to humble him with its majesty.

  Countless eminent pillars of brilliant crystal reached for the heavens, illuminating the nothingness with an enthralling glow. It was breathtaking to behold. Valaterra was its name. It was believed to originate from an asteroid belt that, due to a gravitational anomaly, formed a helix structure larger than most planets. Over time, the spiral accumulated giant crystals on its surface formed from a concoction of rare, life-granting minerals that had lain dormant in the sediment for eons. This invaluable resource had attracted various alien races, distracting them with the promise of riches as they fled their depleted home worlds.

  Soran spotted a faint light leaking from the crevices of the natural cosmic wonder. The structure was hollow. A hidden world appeared as they passed between a fissure in the crystal casing. Soran leaned forward and pressed his face flat against the glass, watching civilization emerge. Looking for a new home, the innumerable alien drifters had taken advantage of Valaterra's cocoon-like nature, establishing a cohesive society under the protection of its luminous walls. The layers of construction extended out for miles. Coiling the circumference, haphazard architecture clung to the walls with immense scaffolds. Some structures were so gigantic they seemed to climb to the highest reaches of the spiral, disappearing into the hazy pinkish fog of pollutants that gathered at its peak.

  "First time?" El asked, partaking in Soran's amazement with vicarious glee. He almost told the truth, that it was his first time away from the Hyacinth. Scuppering his honesty to maintain his bounty hunter facade, he replied with a simple nod, continuing to admire the feats of elevation and ingenuity the builders had poured into the project. Seeing what the galaxy's races could do when they worked together was eye-opening. Despite losing their planets, they had opted to work together and, over the centuries, forged somewhere to call home.

  With an abrupt jolt, the Horizon's autopilot course corrected. The ship's nose dipped down and plunged the crew into the belly of the grand spiral. The bright lights of the city above began to fade, replaced with a dingier, neon aesthetic that left Soran in a haze of apprehension. He could hear the rhythmic thud of music leaking from overcrowded bars and saw the glow of suspicious eyes glaring out from shadowed alleys. In these lower reaches, precise construction appeared abandoned. Dens of vice crammed together in an unorganized jumble constituted most of Valaterra's aptly named 'sink.' Coherent routes became unnecessary after ten drinks, as a blurred stumble to the next depraved hovel required no map.

  They descended onto a large circular platform, and the rear doors burst open with a flicker of sparks. Soran panicked, covering his face in a panic that confused the other crew members.

  "What… are you doing?" Asked Ranna with an almost disappointed look. Soran examined the crew's puzzled expressions, lowering his hands and taking a breath. "Oxygen?" he muttered. A chorus of ridicule assailed him. Even Tugg croaked along in guttural mockery. Ranna shook his head, and the Horizon crew exited the ship. Soran crept behind them with caution in his steps, still not convinced of the atmospheric purity.

  As he stepped onto the platform, a horde of repair bots rushed by his feet. They made an eager dive under the Horizon and got to work with swift efficiency. Soran chuckled, remembering that Lanic often scolded the machines whenever they would tamper with his flawless repairs. He saw them as a nuisance, only fit for menial tasks like refueling.

  The Horizon had docked beside a crystal fragment, its teal glow reflected on the boy's pale skin. Upon closer examination, there appeared to be something growing on its surface. Something alive.

  "Strange, isn't it?" said El, sneaking up on him. "They say it's a fungus that only grows here. It produces the atmosphere and allows us to walk around without suits."

  Soran had never heard of plants growing in space, knowing little beyond the Hyacinth's repetitious normalcy. El tugged at his undershirt, and the two jogged to catch up with Tugg and Ranna, who were waiting outside an imposing set of steel doors.

  Two sentry units emerged from the door frame with a static greeting and promptly set about scanning Ranna's face. Green lines combed over his entire body, evaluating the danger he represented. A small hatch sprung open, and Ranna and Tugg begrudgingly surrendered their cache of weapons. Ranna was carrying six pistols of various design, unsheathing them from the countless hidden compartments of his jacket. Tugg had an extensive collection of blades strapped to his person, giving Soran yet another reason to keep his distance.

  "Carrying?" asked Ranna. Soran knew that a hunter without weapons would be unusual, but the Captain didn't seem surprised when met with the boys shaking head.

  With the scan complete and weapons confiscated, the door groaned open. Soran squinted as light poured through the crack, illuminating their dingy surroundings. The room's layout was affected, with warm golden hues permeating the floor and ceiling. Both furniture and papering glistened, meticulously curtailed to the aristocratic tastes of the property's owner. A large staircase ascended either side of the room, arriving at a set of beautifully decorated wooden doors that accented the room tastefully. It had the atmosphere of a royal palace, but Soran felt the occupants were far from nobility.

  As soon as their feet touched the marble of the palatial abode, the largest alien Soran had ever seen assailed them. Even Tugg was smothered by its shadow as it leered over them, bulging arms crossed aggressively over its chest. Soran was shocked by its lack of features, its head void of eyes, a nose, and ears. Gelatinous saliva laminated the corners of its menacing frown, coating its protuberant lips in an unpleasant, oily film. A series of guttural grunts showered down on them, the frequency stabbing at Soran's ears. He shook where he stood, pressing his fingers on his temples to cope with the pain. Blood collected in his nose and mouth, his eyes fierce with crimson webs. He gasped and tried to wipe the blood away, coloring his hands a dark crimson in the process. El leaped to his aid, pulling a series of vials from a case lodged in her back pocket. Tearing off one of the lids, she revealed a barb-tipped pen, which she promptly jabbed into Soran in the neck, injecting him with murky green fluid.

  "Should fix you right up," Ranna said jokingly, his words tinged with nervous relief. Soran — who was in a slight state of shock — wiped the remaining blood onto his undershirt, which was now decorated with unflattering ruby smears. The imposing alien again opened its mouth. "What's your business? I won't ask a third time." Its words came through clearly in a frighteningly aggravated tone.

  "Come on, Crux, let us see the boss. We have an appointment this time, honestly." Ranna said, trying to peer around the sides of Crux's massive legs.

  "You're on thin ice, Ranna. One day, you won't be able to talk yourself out of here alive," Crux said, looking like he was ready to carry out Ranna's punishment prematurely. The oversized ornate doors on the upper floor swung open, and the most peculiarly ornamented man Soran had ever seen sauntered out.

  Jewel-encrusted hands slapped the banister that coiled the stairways. The overweight man's labored breathing was audible even from the fair distance the crew stood. He had an unnatural mane of slick sapphire hair; the silken strands rested on a pelted robe hanging from his shoulders. Soran squinted, trying to determine what the man had attached to his face. It looked almost like a mask but clung tightly like a second skin. Peering more closely, he noticed that it was no mask but the man's skull. The skin and muscle from his forehead and right eye were absent, leaving the open socket on display. An optic orb had been grafted to the bone, maneuvering rapidly as it scanned the fresh arrivals.

  The man let out a yelp similar to a hound's; his breathing grew heavier, overtaken with furious excitement.

  "Wasn't sure if you'd come back, Ranna." The man sputtered, his words churning together into an incomprehensible mess. He plunged his hand into a pocket and retrieved a handful of effervescent black powder that trickled through the gaps in his fingers. Grabbing a small torch lighter from his breast pocket, he ignited the powder, inhaling the sulfurous, crackling vapor it produced. Soran watched in awe, the man visibly unfazed by the substance currently burning the palm of his hand. His eye whitened, and he let out a howl of euphoria. He threw the remnants of the smoldering powder to the wall and made a beeline towards Ranna. Leering as close as he could get without their faces touching, he clawed the top row of silver-plated teeth over his bottom lip. Soran had met his fair share of unusual characters on the Hyacinth but, until recently, had never encountered a human this unhinged. He needed to remain vigilant and prepared to react at a moment's notice.

  The man ran his powdery fingers across the scarred surface of Ranna's head, mopping up droplets of nervous sweat to taste the fear from his fingertips.

  "Do you know why Crux hasn't pulled ya jaw off?" The man asked Ranna, an amused look tinting his snarl.

  Ranna stayed silent for a second and slowly gave a hesitant nod. "Yes, Veng," he replied compliantly.

  "Good, wouldn't want there to be any confusion." He said, this time more calmly, the inhaled substance taking effect. Veng brushed nervously through his hair as he walked over to a desk, pulling out a small device and throwing it over to Ranna.

  "Kaligan," Veng smashed his hand down as he spoke the name, leaving his ring imprinted into the metal surface. "That device will lead ya to him, and you'll bring him back to me. Alive, Ranna. He will pay for what he did to me. It's my justice to serve. Understand?" Veng pointed to his exposed skull, shaking with an anger that had long since boiled over into rage.

  "Back to you alive, Veng, I've got it. Were square after this, right?" Ranna again spoke cautiously so as not to stoke agitation. Veng stepped slowly over to Crux, touching the brutish alien's leg. He let out a loud belch of laughter and began slapping his lofty bodyguard, who produced a chitinous croak, gargled through the gill-like slits of its mouth.

  "Square's a little beyond ya grasp, Ranna. I won't have Crux here turn you and ya friends inside out. How does that work for ya?" He said, safe in knowing he would have Ranna in his pocket for as long as he wanted. Soran could only assume the worst when imagining how Ranna had fumbled his way into the predicament, but with any luck, he wouldn't be sticking around long enough to find out.

  Ranna crossed his right arm over his chest and bowed before Veng, followed swiftly by the other three. Veng had ample opportunity to dispose of Ranna and chose mercy instead. Despite the selfish nature of his decision, Ranna knew he would not have been granted this second chance by other, more unforgiving members of the Valaterra elite.

  Soran had only ever encountered one man claiming to hail from Valaterra: Sheng-Vei, Captain of the fabled Cornucopia. The golden vessel was one of the most glamorous constructions Soran ever had the pleasure of tuning up. Sheng was a well-known hunter, and for good reason. Having cashed in on a sizable portion of the top bounties, he cemented his reputation amongst peers and foes alike. Beyond his wealth and prowess as a hunter, he was feared throughout Valaterra, apparently owning a substantial chunk of the city. Nothing went on without him knowing about it, and even the likes of Veng understood that he wasn't to be crossed. Soran wondered if he would reencounter him during their brief stay, though the boy would bet that Ranna's questionable reputation didn't stop with Veng.

  The crew exited backward, following Ranna's lead, hoping Veng was finished with his mind games.

  "If you don't make it back, Ranna…" Veng spoke leisurely, smiling and taking a deep breath.

  "Your crew will pay the debt, and ya know it's not slates I'll be collecting." He scraped his fingers over the exposed portion of his skull and left a visible etching on the bone. Observing him caused a collective wince. The sound of grinding bone, coupled with the haunting visual, summoned a grim sense of unease. Veng whipped his hand to one side, dismissing the hunters, keen for them to start their mission. They collected their weapons and took a slow, reflective stroll toward the ship. Not even Ranna was unaffected. Soran noticed the Captain's distinct lack of response; his proud shoulders sagged with humiliation.

  Soran glanced back at El, her signature spring absent from each step. Her skin had turned a muddy green shade, and the undulation of her kelp-like hair had slowed almost to a stop. Soran had noticed her color shift a few times now, wondering what evolutionary quirk caused appearance to fluctuate with emotion. He spent the remainder of their brief walk indulging the idea of what life would be like with no one able to mask how they truly felt. Unable to conceal their emotions, their innermost feelings stained on their skin for all to see.

  Ranna and Tugg pressed on into the Horizon, still not a peep from either. The Horde of repair bots fled the platform and scurried into their charging hub. Soran was about to follow them in when a poster plastered on the side of another docked ship caught his eye. The image depicted an attractive woman drinking from a flute, advertising some expensive liquor. He had seen that exact poster before. It was back on the Hyacinth, displayed haphazardly above Lanic's workbench. He paused for a second, and guilt welled inside him. It had already been a full day, and he had yet to take the first step in recovering his mentor. By now, the trail from Malig's ship would have run cold, and he would have to rely on what few leads Ranna could retrieve. Having had little control over the events unfolding thus far, he couldn't help but feel responsible. Had the tables been turned, Lanic would not have hesitated to come after him, never mind falling asleep and missing what might have been his only chance. El approached from behind and touched Soran on the nape of his neck.

  "I can feel you," She said, brandishing a look of genuine concern.

  "Feel me?" asked Soran.

  "The truth, inside. The things you don't share with the others." She motioned her hand toward his forehead, but he pulled away. His life currently depended on the truth he kept hidden. Until he could pinpoint the extent of El's abilities, he couldn't risk disclosing anything that could jeopardize his position.

  "Thanks, El, but really, I'm fine." He said, trying to sound convincing, aware she knew he was anything but.

  The two of them made their way on board and headed to the cockpit, where Ranna and Tugg were examining the contents of Veng's device. The ship's Holo-Projector whirred into action. Suspended in midair, millions of light rays instantly constructed a detailed image of the galaxy. Soran was amazed to see the distance they had already traveled, the Hyacinth becoming insignificant amongst the grand tapestry of the cosmos. The star chart plotted a course from their current position to a moon in a neighboring solar system in an area known as the Seethe, a winding stretch of space spanning more than half of the galaxy in which every planet had been rendered uninhabitable. The origin of the decimation remained a mystery, a cosmic cataclysm that tore the fabric of reality in two. The catastrophe may have extinguished all life, but the Seethe remained inhabited by the disappeared and forgotten, those wishing to flee the galactic government's iron grip and the unceasing gaze of her indomitable Navy.

  After the fall of Earth more than a century ago, much of humanity considered their race a disdainful scourge. Its telos to destroy all it was gifted, leaving rot in its wake. Unfortunately, as what remained of humanity pressed farther into the stars on their quest for a new home, they were greeted with nothing but the remnants of what once was. We discovered we were not the only ones who lacked appreciation for the miracle of creation. After countless Naval expeditions to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, only seven planets were discovered still capable of harboring life. Fiercely guarded by their host species and under the protection of the galactic government, outside interference on the last worlds would forever be forbidden. Despite the extraordinary conservation measures, even the blind could see the seeds of corruption festering in these final Edens.

  "When we pull this off, not only will we be rich but finally out from under the thumb of that lunatic," Ranna said, punching in the launch codes while the rest of the crew buckled in for take-off. Their Captain's renewed optimism energized El and Tugg. Even Soran felt a sense of camaraderie with his kidnappers. The Horizon rose gracefully for a ship of her age. Ascending from the depths of Valaterra and out into open space. Soran peered from the side window, again marveling at the splendor of the crystalline fortress and its mesmeric glow.