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Eos #4

Beyond Repair

By Fist_of_Fenris

The planet Ronin had a very similar early history to that of Eos. In fact, their timelines were almost parallel to one another. Both were colonized by tiny freighters who strayed from the pack of ships fleeing Earth, and both lay undiscovered for many years before a Central Human Government cruiser crossed paths with them.

One might say they were sister planets. It would not be too far from the truth to say they were twins, although even those who believed this had to admit that these sisters were not entirely identical. Whereas Eos had shut her borders to outsiders, Ronin had thrown open her gates to any who might seek entrance, and as a result, the planet's livelihood and culture was trampled, mutilated, and raped beyond repair.

Ronin lay within Azrulian space, though she was considered a planet of the CHG. She was an industrial planet, mainly due to the fact that she had no natural resources or natural beauty. As a result, she was forced to trade on a regular basis.

The planet's population prostituted itself to the outsiders that flowed through Ronin's engorged veins. Wealth poured into the planet, but the natives saw little of it. Instead the money exchanged hands between foreigners who only came to Ronin to cut deals and run. The locals were lucky to see even a trifling coin from the stingy misers who came to their barren rock.

It was not long before the outsiders began setting up shop and put local establishments out of business, sapping even more of the Roninians' financial strength. The people became more and more frustrated, but there was nothing they could do to enforce their will in the face of the increasingly one-side capitalism that ate at their home like a pack of wild dogs.

The answer to the troubles of Ronin's people came in the shadow of an invasion of Epinephrine raiders. The raiders were surprised to find allies in the humans of Ronin and adopted the planet into their empirical grasp.

Dual protests from the CHG and the Azrulians were met with threats of military action from the Epinephrine throne. The Azrulians prepared for war on a galactic scale, but were forced back to the table by pleas from the CHG who were no where near ready for so large a conflict. Reluctantly the Azrulians reproached the table to negotiate.

***

A cold wind blew from the south, twisting amongst a crowd of hundreds gathered in the tight streets of a major square in a massive city. In the middle of the crowd, a metallic, rounded stage stood menacingly glaring out over the people. Several raiders guarded the stage with armed rifles, careful not to make eye-contact with the crowd.

The crowd was electric, tense. They shifted nervously as if not sure what to expect as they watched the stage and waited. All eyes remained glued to a particularly nasty-looking raider whose skin was darker than the ones ringing the stage. He had an assortment of rings; three down the left side of his face and one coming from his eye. In his hand, a knife gleamed in the spotlights directed at the stage. He held it reverse-ways, as though he were preparing to stab someone. With a quick motion, he rolled the handle in his hand so that he held it regularly and pointed to the back of the stage, hunching over a little as he did to add to the presentation.

The crowd roared and clapped, though not so much at the gesture as what the knife now pointed at. A tall cylindrical device took up most of the stage. An Azrulian was bound to the device by chains and shackles. She was in bad health and scrawnier than she should have been.

"Your people and mine," the nasty-looking raider began. "We have always been close since the day your world joined our federation. Now we celebrate two hundred years of togetherness and unity--..." the crowd clapped. The speaker waited until they'd settled down. "But all of this might have been brought to a halt that fateful day in which the Azrulians took arms against us--..." the crowd became hostile. They booed at the notion. "Now, finally, we can show them how we truly feel about them and their noses which always wind up somewhere they have never belonged."

The raider stopped and waited as the crowd yelled taunts at Ginasa. He smiled; grinning ear to ear as the crowd stripped her of a little more of her dignity. The smile grew larger as she lifted her head to face the crowd. She looked around, hungry for an escape. The raider knew all too well there would be none that could be found. After a moment, she seemed to give in to fear and fixated on a point in the crowd. She looked over at the raider, as if wishing for him to end the madness. The raider was not so forgiving. He let the crowd go on for a whole minute longer before finally dragging the knife along the air to silence them.

The raider ran his tongue over his teeth. The knife slowly lowered to his side where he held it backwards once again.

"They don't seem to like you much," he said to Ginasa, drawing a laugh from the crowd. "Your blood seems to be valuable to your people. Perhaps we should send it back to them once we've spilt it."

"Perhaps you should consider that I have friends who would do anything to see me in one piece," said Ginasa with all the courage she could muster.

"You expect rescue then? That by some miracle you should be released and escape your fate?"

"I know that it is to be."

"Then you are hopeful-..."

"I am confident."

"Then you are foolish."

The raider raised the knife again as he spun to address the crowd once more. The blade twirled a good three hundred and sixty degrees, coming to rest back where it had started.

"The Azrulians have been suffered to live too long. Their people mock us. They point at us and tell tales of our cruelties done unto each other, of wars amongst ourselves. We know better than their lies.

"Humbly, we serve our king and our god smiles with pleasure at the painful cries of our foes. In the name of the almighty and all endowed to us, we must not suffer to live any opposition to our cause. So to this I say, take heed, take arms, and take everything before you!"

The crowd erupted. Shouting and jumping, they clamored amongst one another in joyful agreement, competing to show more support than the person next to them.

The raider approached the back of the stage, barely creeping along in order to draw out the tension of the moment. He looked upon Ginasa and tasted her fear, feeling his own heart skip at the instinctual feelings in the thought of taking a life.

"Suffer not," he said in a voice barely audible to all but those who were in the front row. "Those that oppose." He raised his voice, threw his head over his shoulder, and for the benefit of the crowd, he added: "There is no one coming to save you."

He lunged for Ginasa, the knife held tightly before him. Blood flowed, black and terrible, burning in the night beneath the lights that lit the stage.

***

TWELVE HOURS EARLIER...

The Storm Gale's passengers were violently rattled by a sudden, rapid deceleration from a class nine warp. On the bridge Jaavi was thrown over his console and face first into the glass on the nose of the craft. Behind him, Marthus fell from his chair onto the cold, hard, steel floor.

"I told you we were going to fast," he said.

Marthus looked up without moving his head. He groaned painfully and got onto his knees.

Elsewhere, in her quarters, Skyra became ill from the gyrations of her bloated middle and the momentum of her own solitary passenger. She put one hand on her stomach and covered her mouth with the other. With a massive heave, she managed to get to her feet just before her entire body lurched and her stomach emptied into her throat. She released Theron only a couple of seconds past their ten minute agreement.

Theron shivered and stood up in a pool of fluids, visibly disgusted by the way in which he'd been ejected. Skyra shrugged and tightened her ill expression into a disarming smile.

"Sorry."

Theron gave her an accusing look, but the door to Skyra's quarters hissed open to a concerned Jaavi. He saw Skyra's flat stomach and the pool of fluids dripping off of Theron and guessed what happened.

"Sorry kid," he said. "It was my fault. Had to slam on the brakes."

Theron flicked off some of Skyra's fluids and pushed past Jaavi without a word.

In another, more secluded locale on board the ship, Marthus walked down a slightly more claustrophobic hallway than the one Skyra's room was on. He ducked beneath some pipes and shuffled around a tight corner to a well-worn door.

The door to Sehrab's room opened with a squeal and a queer sucking of air not commonly associated with the steel pressurized doors. The door had rarely been used so it was Marthus's assumption that the sudden wear had to have come from Sehrab. After all, the one-time outlaw had been known for sudden fits of rage.

Marthus looked into the room. It was dimly lit and devoid of any logical organization. The generally squarish shape figure of an unmade bed could be seen in a dark corner of the room. There were several articles of clothing strewn recklessly across the floor.

It took Marthus a while to realize the way in which the room was arranged was in fact to give it an unnatural sort of ambience of fear and at the same time, look almost dignified. The word "lair" came to mind.

Sehrab was sitting at a desk near the door. He seemed unaffected by the sudden shift, as he was sitting with his feet up on the desk and reclining back dangerously in his metal chair.

"So uh..." Marthus said. "I was just checking to make sure you were alright."

Sehrab turned and looked eyes with the captain, revealing a revolver in his right hand. He opened his left hand and waved a gash in front of Marthus.

"If I see Jaavi anytime in the next five minutes," he said. "I will probably kill him."

"Duly noted," Marthus said as he retreated from the room. "I'm just going to go check on Koli."

The door hissed shut smoother than it had opened. Sehrab placed the weapon on the table in front of him and picked up a piece of fabric. He tore it to make a thin bandage and delicately wrapped his hand with it so that came around twice before forming a knot.

Behind him, a soft shuffling sound alerted him to the presence of a light-footed intruder. Sehrab snapped his head around to look over his right shoulder. There was no one to be found, so he turned back to the desk.

He took up the remainder of the cloth he'd torn and picked up the revolver with his undamaged hand. He the barrel with a firm rubbing motion between two of his fingers until it was gleaming in the dim light. Then he moved back towards the stock, cleaning vigorously as he went. Finally, he finished polishing and with a good hard rolling of the chamber, he set the revolver down on the desk with the cloth.

Sitting back with his hands supporting his head, he thought back to Ishtar, his once home world. Memories roared through his mind; his rise to power on the mean streets, the MERGE incident, Kaori... everything halted.

Kaori. The name held a great weight over his thoughts. He felt a violent longing and at the same time, an unmistakable disgust of himself. There was a part of him that didn't approve of such thoughts. It was the same part that wanted to chain back up the beast, leave the Storm Gale at the next opportunity, and be done with the whole freak show he'd made of himself.

He became angry. He growled and sat down properly in his chair. He opened a compartment of the desk and brought out a bottle of harsh whisky he'd obtained six years ago.

He poured a shot and threw it back before he could let his stomach anticipate it. The familiar sour feeling came on strong.

***

Marthus looked over a holo-panel computer, which looked like little more than a blue screen coming from a projector on the far wall. He waved his hand across the screen diagonally and a window closed. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Nothing," he muttered aloud.

With a defeated look on his face, he shoved his fist into the middle of the screen. It flashed and dissolved, revealing a light projector behind it. The computer itself was mounted to the wall just above the projector. A thick wire ran from it into the rest of the ship, connecting it to the central processor of the Storm Gale.

Marthus stared at his feet. He remained motionless for sometime, only finding the will to move when a knock came at the door.

"Captain?" it was Jaavi.

"Come in."

The door hissed and opened. Jaavi stepped inside, ducking so that his spikes barely missed the door frame.

"Did you see anything on the optical probes?" he asked hopefully.

"No."

"I assembled the crew on the bridge like you asked. They're waiting for you."

Marthus looked up and eyed Jaavi a minute. Jaavi turned and looked at the ground in attempt to avoid his captain's stare. After a moment, he ducked back through the doorway. The hissing of the door as it closed caused Marthus to stir. He stood, walked toward his door, and then for no apparent reason, stopped.

There was an energy coursing through the air that felt familiar to Marthus. It was the same energy he'd felt during the incident in the hanger with the cloaked figure. But there was more. A thought abruptly occurred to Marthus that threatened to radically change his perspective on his troubled past.

He was brought back to the moment by the sound of his lights buzzing overhead. He whirled around and found the cloaked figure from the hanger immediately behind him.

"Well," he said chidingly. "If it isn't 'One Who Would Warn Me."

The figure failed to respond. Marthus became serious.

"Have we met before? Hanger excluded?"

"There is little time."

The figure raised his hand, once more dispelling a light display of Ginasa in chains, only this time, Marthus got a good look at the cloaked man's palms. It was rough; a hard, cracked texture covered it entirely in a pattern unlike Jaavi's scales.

The light grew larger until it swallowed Marthus and engulfed his senses in a new scene, far from his quarters. Unlike last time, he could feel a wind blowing through a tightly packed crowd. There was a tension to the air, something Marthus had had to provide for himself while staring into the revealing light last time.

Marthus glanced right. The illusion was all around him. Scores of bloodthirsty people packed a tight street. The crowd extended far out in front of him, gathered together despite a cold night.

Marthus glanced left. The figure stood motionlessly staring at something in the distance. Marthus followed his gaze to a stage where the familiar sight of Ginasa chained to a sinister cylindrical device was perfectly visible.

Marthus found himself lost. He wanted to help her. He longed to dash up and cut her free, even though he knew it was no more than an illusion.

He clenched his fists and through gritted teeth, said: "When?"

"At sundown, in the middle of the capital."

The cloak figure turned to Marthus.

"Do not fail," he said.

The scene dissolved like a dieing light, crashing down with the very falling motion of a sunset. The last of it Marthus saw was the face of Ginasa, shrunken by the distance but weary and frightened all the same.

"Captain?" it was Jaavi. He sounded concerned. "I heard voices."

Marthus spun and met his pilot's frightened stare. He blinked and took a step forward.

"How far are we from Ronin's capital?" he asked.

"About another hour in orbit."

"When we get over it, try to match the planet's rotation."

"That's next to impossible."

"Just get as close as you can."

"Aye, sir."

Jaavi looked back down the hall. The crew was gathered on the bridge waiting patiently.

"Are you coming to the meeting you called?"

Marthus looked as though he'd only just remembered it. He snatched a holo-disk from on top of his computer and pocketed it. He followed Jaavi out and down the hall.

The bridge sounded busy as he approached the door, but all the talking ceased as the door hissed open and Jaavi went through. It was so quiet, Marthus could hear Jaavi's footsteps as the Draco made his way across the floor to the control console.

He looked around at everyone. To his left, Koli was sitting atop one of Sehrab's shoulders. The nemek looked like a bizarre parakeet. To his right, Theron and Skyra were standing a distance apart. Every once in a while, he'd throw an anxious look back over he shoulder to make sure she wasn't getting any closer. Skyra seemed a little ill.

Marthus went over to a slot on the rear wall of the bridge and inserted the holo-disk. The machine whirred and then a hologram at the rear of the bridge sprung to life.

"This is Ronin," he began. "Population is about five million humans, controlled by the Epinephrine Empire, and they celebrate one hundred years of freedom from what they call 'financial slavery' today. That's where she's going to be."

"And how do you know this?" Jaavi said from the helm. "I guess it's the same magic fairy that told you about Ginasa in the first place."

Marthus shot Jaavi a dirty look and continued. "They'll probably wait until dark to execute her. The raiders tend to be very ceremonial."

He hit a button on the wall next to the slot and the hologram zoomed down to the capital city. In the very center, Marthus saw a top view of the scene he'd been shown in his quarters. He stumbled a little as his mouth went dry. He wetted his lips and took a deep breath before he thought he could continue.

"Me, Sehrab, Skyra, and Theron will go down to the planet," he said. "We'll slip in after sunset in the Tarsus. We'll land here." He pointed to a spot on the outskirts of the city. "Then we'll hide Skyra here." He pointed to a place near to the center that appeared to be a park of some sort.

"Um, question," Skyra said. "How do you plan to get me through the city unseen? I thought the Roninians were hostile to outsiders."

"They are," Marthus explained. "But there is a section of town here-..." he indicated a strip beginning where he planned to land and ending where he planned to hide Skyra "...-is a place where they keep a few of the outsiders who had no where else to go. They won't bother us."

Skyra nodded and Marthus looked around to see if there were any more questions. There weren't. Marthus went on.

"Sehrab, you'll hide out somewhere near the square and be ready to rush it when you receive the signal. Me and Theron will float through the crowd to see if we can find Gin. We'll signal you with flares. The next step will to be to use smoke to confuse the crowd and then we can move through them easier. Sehrab will take Cholstoy by force; knowing him, he'll be the one doing the execution. Then we'll grab Gin and make a dash for where Skyra is hiding. That's when we'll know whether or not we'll need you. From there, we go back to the landing craft taking the back alley Skyra used to get into position. It's going to be all about speed and timing guys. Thoughts? Questions? Comments?"

"So it's a suicide mission?" Sehrab asked.

"You want out?"

"I didn't say that much."

Skyra raised an eyebrow in an expression of intrigue.

"I'm curious as to why you might 'need' me there at the end."

"Gin's going to be in bad shape."

"Go on."

"Maybe you could carry her."

Skyra licked her lips.

"I could try."

Theron looked nervous, and not just because of Ginasa. He tried to hide it, but Marthus could tell; he was shaking.

"What about you, Theron," Marthus asked.

"I'll do whatever you ask," Theron said.

"Good."

Marthus briefly scanned the crew assembled in front of him. Skyra was smiling, which Marthus found disturbing. Sehrab seemed virtually unaffected, which was typical. Theron had gained some control of his nerves, though he still shook.

"Get your stuff," Marthus said. "We'll be heading out in just three hours."

He turned and left the bridge before anyone else could speak up. Jaavi turned in order to protest, but, upon finding the captain absent, turned and went back to the control panel.

***

The streets of Ronin were all skinny at the base. The buildings were designed in a sort of upright triangle that permitted a larger sky way that had seen more use before the plane fell to the raiders.

People were pouring out into the streets, all of them converging on the center square which only seemed smaller now that Theron saw it in person. The narrow paths soon became almost inaccessible in a tide of people. Theron looked back at the group forming at the rear. Waves of people were coming and adding to an already massive ocean. Theron continued to stare as tens became hundreds, until Marthus caught hold of him and managed to drag him back to the task at hand.

"Pay attention," Marthus shouted over a clamor of voices. "You need to make sure you stay with me. The last thing I need is for you to get lost."

Marthus and Theron made their way through the crowd. Often times, they found they had to fight just to advance another row of bodies. Other times, they had to fight to remain together.

They did eventually reach a row near the front where they could clearly see the stage, already prepared for the night's event. It was unoccupied for the moment. The menacing cylindrical device looked massive in the center. It was far larger than what Marthus remembered from his quarters.

A sound of clamoring abruptly made itself heard over the normal racket. A group of Roninans parted to allow five raiders set up in a ring around a chained prisoner. Ginasa had arrived.

The Azrulian made no attempt to fight or break free. Not as she was led up the stairs, nor when the raiders tied a chain around her lion-ish half and cuffed shackles on her human-ish limbs. Marthus at first thought she had lost the will to fight, but then he saw in her eyes calm rather than the fear he expected. Even from where he stood, he could tell that she was merely trying to rob the crowd of the satisfaction of seeing her squirming in her grip. It gave him hope.

He looked down at Theron; the boy from Eos was still shaking. Marthus became nervous about them being found out, but pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, lest they be found out.

A raider with an assortment of rings on his face and a knife in his hand stepped out; Cholstoy. The villainous master of the execution ceremonies began to speak, the crowd became silent.

Marthus tried not to listen to the speech and instead took to looking around the square. It was not so much a square as a strangely shaped octagon. Two main roads, both leading to the left and right of the stage. It would be the way the raiders would bring up troops if they had to. Marthus glanced about at the fringes of the crowd. There were no raiders guarding. It seemed that they had lucked out as there was only a weak military presence. The raiders must have figured that the Roninians would take care of any threats.

The crowd roared, snapping Marthus back into the moment. Cholstoy was twirling the knife like a master showman. He turned back and looked at Ginasa. For a brief eternity, they made eye-contact and he knew immediately she recognized him. He felt his heart skip.

"They don't seem to like you much," Marthus heard him say.

Marthus shot a worried look at Theron, only to find that he wasn't there. Marthus frantically scanned the crowd until he saw Theron three rows up and quickly moving through the crowd. Marthus cursed and put his right hand on his gun. He started using his left hand to push through the crowd.

He caught up to Theron and grabbed him.

"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted above the crowd. "Stay with me."

Theron looked surprised and guilty. He shuffled back towards Marthus and stood anxiously.

Marthus looked back at the stage. Cholstoy seemed to be arguing with Ginasa. Marthus looked down at Theron. When he looked back up, Cholstoy was once again addressing the crowd. Marthus ducked and looked back towards Theron, who'd once again slipped away.

Marthus witnessed Cholstoy turned back to Ginasa. Just beneath them, he saw Theron breaking through the crowd. His stomach turned to ice; Theron was only a few rows from the stage.

Marthus cursed and grabbed a flare, but just held on to it.

Cholstoy approached the back of the stage, barely creeping along in order to draw out the tension of the moment. He looked upon Ginasa and tasted her fear, feeling his own heart skip at the instinctual feelings in the thought of taking a life.

Theron closed to just two rows. The crowd was becoming unsettled. Marthus found that they became more hostile in Theron's wake. They fought against him. Theron closed to just one row. The crowd was so surprised they did nothing until Theron was almost touching the stage. Marthus fought his way to four rows behind.

"Suffer not," he said in a voice barely audible to all but those who were in the front row. "Those that oppose." He raised his voice, threw his head over his shoulder, and for the benefit of the crowd, he added: "There is no one coming to save you."

Theron threw himself up on to the stage and rushed towards Cholstoy before the raiders guarding the stage could react. The crowd began pouring forward, trying to reach Theron. Marthus quickly found himself caught in a massive flow of people and grew closer to the stage. He forced his way near enough to the front to get a clear shot at the raiders.

Cholstoy lunged but Theron tackled him just as the knife was about to cut into Ginasa. The guards began rushing the stage. One of them got to the top and ran towards Theron. There was a gunshot and the raider fell sideways into the panicky crowd.

The mob of people saw the corpse and panicked, hurriedly stampeding away. Marthus's gun remained in his pocket. He searched around for the source of the shot only to find Sehrab standing atop the stage in his fearsome lycan form. He held a long, plain gun with a rectangular shape and a cocking trigger guard. He fired again at another raider climbing up the stage. The lizard creature fell on top of his comrade. The others took one look at Sehrab, and then at the bodies, and fled with the rest of the crowd. They pushed right past Marthus as they went.

Sehrab turned his gun on Cholstoy.

"Move scales!" his werewolf voice was deeper and more evil sounding than his normal human voice.

Cholstoy threw up his arms and leapt from the stage. The ploy proved to be a mistake as Sehrab slammed into him doing around thirty miles per hour, sending both of them crashing to the ground. Cholstoy leapt to his feet and immediately tried to escape again. Sehrab leapt on to him again and brought him up forcefully at the point of a revolver.

"You even think about doing that again," Sehrab said. "I will blow your skull open."

"Sehrab," Marthus yelled from the stage. "We need to go now."

Sehrab looked down the street. There were darkish-green military vehicles approaching. He grabbed Cholstoy by the lizard's shirt collar and started dragging his catch towards the park Skyra was supposed to be hiding in.

Theron and Marthus worked to free Ginasa as the raider's response grew ever closer. They turned and pulled and finally, the chains fell away.

"Can you walk?" Marthus asked Ginasa.

"A little," Ginasa said, her voice was hoarse. "But not far."

Theron immediately went to her right and started to support her. Marthus quickly went to her left. The three of them hobbled down the stairs and into the empty street. Marthus glanced down the road. The military response was almost right on top of them.

"Gin, I don't mean to impose, but could you possibly go a little faster?" Marthus said in the calmest voice he could at the moment.

The Azrulian began pushing a little faster, but still not quite fast enough. Marthus looked back, the vehicles were entering the square and they were still a good fifteen meters from the park. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a cylindrical can with a pin on top. By moving Ginasa to his arm, he managed to free up his head enough to pull the pin. With a mighty heave, he tossed the can at the raider's filling out into the square.

The can released a thick smoke that choked the raiders and blocked their sight. The raiders stumbled around blindly in the smog waiting for it to dissipate. The raider captain barked orders to stop and hold position. The smoke began to dissolve, but the raiders still couldn't see Marthus, Theron, or even the large Ginasa. The captain began issuing new orders for the raiders to spread out and search. The raiders began forming into ranks and scattering through the roads ringing the octagonal square.

Just as the trio stumbled into a secluded area of the park, Ginasa collapsed and refused to move an inch further. Marthus saw great pain on her face.

Sehrab and Skyra were waiting in the park. Cholstoy had been bound up and now Sehrab was carrying him as he might a Persian rug. Skyra rushed over to Marthus and Ginasa.

"I guess we're going to need you after all," Marthus said, talking to Skyra.

"Marthus, I don't know if I could take her whole," She said, worried.

"What do you mean? Your species can hold three or four times your body weight."

"That's usually once they're inside. I mean I might have trouble swallowing for that long."

"We don't have time to argue."

Skyra looked as though she might say something, then she just nodded and went over to Ginasa.

"I need you to make yourself as small as possible," she said in a soothing voice.

Ginasa did what she was told as best as she possibly could. She drew her lioness-like feet up close to her chest and bent as far forward as she could, managing to roll herself up into a ball. The Azrulian still looked too big to Skyra. She hesitated.

"Skyra!" Marthus shouted in a whisper. "We don't have time!"

Skyra took a deep breath and held it a moment before releasing it. She started at Ginasa's human-ish end. She slid over the head easily, and then Ginasa's chest offered no resistance. Slowly but surely, she managed to reach the end of the Azrulian's human-ish torso.

Her stomach was already full and it was painful to make another swallow. Only by a massive amount of sheer will was she able to cross onto the lioness torso. She swallowed, gulping down as quickly as she could. Her stomach made a queer sound, forcing her to stop halfway down the lioness. She breathed through her nose and waited for her stomach to calm down.

After a minute, she finished the lioness off with two gulps and sent the rest of Ginasa off into her massively engorged stomach. Her belly felt as though she'd eaten a plane and now it was trying to take off in her gut. She put a hand to it and groaned.

"Finally," Marthus said. "Help her to her feet. There's no time."

Once they got Ginasa up, they made a bee-line for the alleyway out of the park. The raider patrols were close in tow.

***

The Targus wailed and came to life. It lifted up off the ground slowly and sailed high above the city.

Marthus took in a deep breath and sighed. He looked back at the cabin. Sehrab, back in human form, was sitting on Cholstoy. He looked a little farther and saw Theron glancing out the window. It looked like he was staring off into the distance. Marthus craned his neck and looked all the way around. Skyra was lying on her side with her face twisted in excruciating pain. Her stomach stretched way out in front of her.

The console to the Targus beeped. Marthus turned back and saw that they were entering the upper atmosphere of Ronin. The windows became fiery outside for a second, and then stopped as the Targus burst out into space.

The console beeped again. They were being hailed by the Storm Gale.

"Captain," Jaavi's voice came in over the ship's speakers. "We need to go now. I've got about three raider ships just ten minutes outside of firing range."

"Have they spotted you?" Marthus said.

"Not yet, but staying in place like this will do it."

Marthus grabbed a lever on the console and gently goosed it forward. The engines revved and the craft hurtled at twice its previous speed.

It was not long before the Storm Gale was in sight. Marthus pressed a button and the rear hatch of the bird opened. He nosed the Targus into the tiny opening and brought it to dock in the hold.

The door to the Targus opened slowly. A ramp extended down. Sehrab was the first off. He shoved Cholstoy in front of him and kept a gun pointed on the raider. Because of the darkness and confusion on Ronin and then the dim lights of the Targus, seeing Cholstoy lead down the ramp was the first good look Marthus got of his rival.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said.

Sehrab turned around, keeping his gun on Cholstoy.

"What?"

"That's not him. The bastard must have given the job to someone else."

Sehrab whirled back around and put one of his revolver's to the fake Cholstoy's head.

"If that's the case," he said, and pulled the trigger without finishing the statement.

Purplish blood splattered all over the ramp. Theron looked down at the gruesome scene and felt himself become ill. He'd stomached the death of the raider on the stage on Ronin, but that was when his adrenaline had been flowing. Now seeing the blood exploding out of the false Cholstoy in the familiar surroundings of the ship, it was too much. He keeled over and passed out unconscious, and then fell about a story to the steel floor of the hold.

***

Theron awoke in a dark room. A glance around told him it was a room he'd seen at the rear of the hold. Besides a pair of spare beds, all else that occupied the room was a door and Ginasa. Theron leapt up into a sitting position.

Ginasa was lying heavily on the bed with part of her body hanging off. Her breath came slow and heavy. Her fur was matted and the skin beneath it was visibly bruised through the strands of hair.

Theron swung his legs over the side of the bed. His left foot landed on something hard like a rock and recoiled from the shock, causing him to fall back onto the bed. After a brief spike of pain, he placed his foot carefully around the object and bent down to examine it.

He'd stepped on a ring of some sort. It was plain and silver, nothing special about it besides a line running the circumference. He grabbed it between his thumb and forefinger in order to examine it closer up. The ring looked no more special close up.

Ginasa gurgled, drawing Theron's attention away from the ring. Still holding the ring, he approached her quietly, afraid to wake her up. He put a hand on her side and felt the air filling her lungs. Her breathing was frantic and irregular. A thought came to Theron; she was dieing. He became fearful. He reeled back and sat back down on his bed. He put a hand to his head and felt something rap gently against his skull. Remembering that he was still holding the ring, he tried to push the negative thoughts aside by staring at the unglamorous piece of jewelry.

From the darkness, there came a voice. It was soft and comforting, and yet it the same time, it sounded as though it wielded a great power over men. Theron listened to it.

"You would like to help her," the voice said. "You wish that you could snap your fingers and make it all go away. I can give you this power."

"How?" Theron said as he searched the room for the source of the voice.

"The ring."

Theron starred at the ring, wondering what the voice meant.

"Place it on your finger," the voice commanded.

Theron hesitated. Ginasa gurgled and moaned in her sleep. Theron drew in a deep breath and slipped his ring onto his right pointer finger. It slipped on almost by itself. Theron felt a power surge through him. It felt good, though it made him feel tired. He looked down at Ginasa, and then back at the ring. He put his right hand and the ring on her forehead and felt the power surge through him into her.

The Azrulian's breathing slowly became regular. She stirred and opened her eyes.

"Theron?" she said.

Theron let out a sigh of relief and fell back onto his bed. He through his arms back and let himself onto the bed. He'd only just begun to relax and feel himself slipping away when he felt a heavy sort of breathing in his hair. He opened his eyes and craned his neck to meet eye to eye with a wolf.

He leapt off the bed and backed into Ginasa.

"Theron?" she said, trying to push him off of her. "What is it?"

He looked into her eyes and saw no fear in them. He pointed at the predator currently taking residence on his bed. The wolf lied down and glared at them, but Ginasa didn't appear to see it. Theron looked at her, then the wolf, and then the ring, which had attached itself to his finger, holding on tight.

"What did I do?"