As a result, I have to wonder how quickly they’ll send reinforcements…
…if they send them at all.
Staying in Barl is suicide, I suddenly realize. I turn to stare down my old boss, but I see that his eyes are screwed up in determination. He’s lost so much in his life. This is his line in the sand. He won’t lose his chop-shop – not after eking out a scrub-bare existence here for so many years.
He’ll die here if I don’t convince him to leave.
“Edgar, you can’t stay here. We don’t know when the Capital’s army is coming. We do know when the Scorp are, though. They might be gone now, chasing easier prey… But you know as well as I do that they’ll return.”
“Then they’ll have to get through me,” Edgar says, his words strong and determined.
Yet there’s a bead of sweat on his brow. For all his pretense of stoicism, there’s fear in Edgar’s eyes. The chop-shop is all he has left, and he knows he’s going to lose it.
If he stays, he’ll lose more than just his livelihood. He’ll lose his life.
I shake my head. “Don’t be so damned foolish!”
Edgar growls, clutching his rifle harder in his shaking hands. His words are venomous: “Going out there – that is foolish!” He motions with his head towards the twitching pile of Scorp corpses at the doorway. I can’t even look at them. One swipe of their huge claws and my guts would come spilling out…
Oh, Gods, Tammy - don’t even think of that. Don’t think of it!
The short-haired Aurelian, Forn, comes closer to me when he hears Edgar’s harsh tone. He stands protectively a foot in front of me, ready to put his body between Edgar and myself.
Would he stand between us if Edgar, for some reason, pointed that weapon at me?
The alien might tower over me and be covered in intricate, primitive-looking tattoos – tattoos that glowed as green as Scorp-venom – but somehow his brutality doesn’t scare me.
Forn makes me feel safe – and while I’ve never relied on anyone in my years in Barl, if I want to get out of here alive, I’m going to have to trust these alien warriors.
We don’t have time to argue any more.
Scorp Warriors have infested this city, chasing down easy targets. I fear for the two orphans out there in the wild. I have to save them, and fast.
At least I know Tyler and Runner are quick, making their living as pickpockets. You have to be fast on your feet when getting caught means a beating. But against a nine-feet-tall Scorp warrior? I shudder, trying not to think of what could have already happened to them.
Please, Gods… Please let them be okay.
“Stacy, Tod, you’re coming with me.”
At six-years-old, they’re only fourteen years my junior; but they still look to me like I have all the answers. I remember how grown up even teenagers used to seem to me back when I was their age. If only I knew then how scared I’d feel when I was the “grown up”. Some days, I wish I could be a kid again – back in the days before the Scorp took my family...
Back when I had a future.
No! I didn’t lose my future. I’ll always take care of people, no matter where I am.
I pull the two children close, hugging them even as I tell myself there’s no time for it. The angry alien, Hadone, strides to the door with his huge war-hammer dangling in his hands.
He’s a truly fearsome warrior. His sweeping attack can obliterate a half-dozen Scorp at a time – sweeping them aside and crushing them like eggshells. I see that in the hilt of his weapon is a shard of Orb; which clearly powers that devastating hammer.
I’d heard of Orb-Weapons before. Crafted from that rare, valuable substance – the one that powers interstellar travel itself – the weapons are worth a fortune to the likes of Edgar and myself; yet are granted to each and every Aurelian upon reaching age.
I’d heard about them, sure – yet now I’ve seen Orb-Weapons in action, I know that none of the legends compare to the real thing. These weapons seem alive. They hum, trickles of electricity arcing out from their blacker-than-black blades. The hammer head of Hadone’s weapon, radiating an otherwordly, blueish light, seems to be thirsting for Scorp blood.
I have that same thirst.
Forn limps behind me. He holds his two curved Orb-Daggers easily, as if he were born clutching them in his huge hands.
Despite having been rescued by a member of his triad, Stacy and Tod quiver as Forn gets close; intimidated by his looming size.
“He’s a friend,” I reassure them. “Okay?”
“He’s an Aurelian,” hisses Tod, saying the word like a curse. Hate is taught at a very young age on this planet – but in just the last few minutes alone, I’ve come to wonder if everything I thought I’d known about Aurelians is wrong.
Do they truly look down on humans? Do they truly think of us as weak and foolish?
If they do, I’m going to prove them wrong today.
I’m going to get us all out of this city. I’m going to get us all to safety. All of us – even the Aurelian with the scar on his cheek, who can’t seem to even look at me.
I wish these aliens could speak the common tongue. I’d thought Aurelians could – but clearly these are not the same haughty, overly-civilized Aurelians we knew of here on Independence – the ones whose Empire we’d fought to be free of.
No, these were a different breed of Aurelian – literally – and that was why it was even more of a handicap not to be able to communicate with them.
In a fight, even a second of hesitation or miscommunication could end my life – not to mention the chances of my orphans making it out of the city alive.
The unnamed Aurelian – the one with the scar on his
