Imminent Danger: And How to Fly Straight Into It (4 page)

“Is that a planet?”

“Yes.” Grashk double-blinked his purple eyes with obvious disdain. “He is annoying but wise enough to avoid my presence.”

“He’s kind of cute,” Eris mused.

“Cute?” Grashk hissed. “This word,
cute
—does it not mean attractive, in a charming manner?”

Grashk’s fellow guard, who was also sitting at the console, flexed all six of his big, scaly hands and stalked away. Eris supposed he didn’t approve of fraternizing with prisoners.
Or maybe just with humans. We seem to be pretty low on the galactic food chain.

“It does,” Eris agreed.

Grashk
phhh
-ed. “Ssrisk are the superior race. We do not view other species in such ways.”

Just as Eris was searching for a suitably diplomatic reply, she was distracted by movement at the washroom door. She watched the Claktill clamber out, reach up a hand to smooth down his fluffy white hair, and start back toward his cell. But when the little creature spotted Eris, he froze, and his hair shot up into hundreds of thin spikes.

“Dosh firki ichi beniki?” the Claktill chattered. His tiny, four-fingered hands were clutched to his chest as he stared at her.

Eris shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, not sure how to respond. “Hi,” she said finally. “My name is Eris. Nice to meet you.”

The Claktill moved hesitantly toward her, tail wrapped around his waist like a second belt. “Dosh dosh beni ichi!” he chirped, eyeing her warily. “Muki noq Rakor malik?”

Eris couldn’t understand why her necklace gem wasn’t translating the Claktill’s words.
Maybe the problem isn’t on my end?
“Don’t you have one of these orb things?” she asked, lifting up her necklace. She looked the creature over and spotted a familiar milky stone glimmering from the alien’s brown belt. “Use that!” she instructed, pointing at the gem.

“Noq maliki ichi!”

“Oh, come on! Why can’t you understand what I’m saying?”

Frustrated, Eris was about to reach forward and grab the little creature’s belt to show him what she was saying when a shadow loomed over her. Eris looked up to find Grashk standing above her.

“The Claktill cannot understand your primitive speech,” the Ssrisk said. “His
lamri
is limited and not attuned to your language as ours are.”

“Then would you please attune his stone?”

“Lamri,”
Grashk hissed.

“Lamri,” Eris repeated. “Attune his lamri. Please.”

“Why should I? You are a captive, not a guest. I am under no obligation to make your life easier.”

“If you attune his lamri for him,” Eris cajoled, “then he’ll be able to talk to me, so neither of us will have time to bother
you
.”

Grashk looked ready to dispute the point, but then apparently realized the logic of her argument. “Do not move,” he said to the Claktill. Grashk pulled the orb from his own forehead and pressed it to the gem on the little alien’s belt. Then he turned to Eris and repeated the process with the stone on her necklace before nestling the lamri back between his forehead scales.

“I have attuned your lamri,” Grashk said.

“Thanks …” Eris trailed off as Grashk stalked back to the control console without another word. “Never mind,” she mumbled.

“What do you want with me, Rakorsian?” the Claktill demanded, fixing her with a contemptuous look. “Come to finish what your people started?”

Taken aback by his aggressive tone, Eris stammered, “I—I’m not Rakorsian. I don’t even know what a Rakorsian is!”

The Claktill eyed her oddly. His mess of white hair flopped comically to the side as he tilted his head like a confused puppy. “You … are not Rakorsian?” he asked slowly. “You were not born on the paradisiacal planet Rakor, raised under the fist of the warlord Ka’zarel, and sent forth in one of your mighty ships to impose your tyrannical will on the rest of the galaxy?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Are you certain you are not Rakorsian? You certainly look like one.”

“Scout’s honor,” Eris said. Seeing the Claktill’s puzzled look, she added, “I promise, I’m not Rakorsian.”

The alien looked abashed. “My apologies,” he said, wiggling his tail. “I had assumed from your appearance that you were Rakorsian. You are Takblinarian, then? Or perhaps one of the Scalkan races from Vega Minor?” He peered at her. “Although your eyes have a Falkese shape …”

“I’m a human, from Earth,” she said. “My name is Eris.” She offered her hand to the small, brown-skinned alien.

“I am Miguri,” the Claktill said. His big blue eyes widened when Eris took his hand and shook it. “Kari, you certainly are a strange creature.”

“Humans shake hands when we greet each other,” Eris explained. She flushed when Miguri gave her a disbelieving look. “Well, we
do
,” she muttered. “And what exactly is
Kari?
This lamri thing isn’t translating it into any word I understand.”

“The lamri translates the name of any omnipotent, supernatural creator as Kari. We do not know why.” Miguri smiled broadly, showing off a set of sharp, pointed teeth.

Recoiling, Eris managed to keep from screaming, but it was a close thing.

“What is wrong?” asked the Claktill.

“I didn’t expect to see such large fangs on a person of your … stature.”

He beamed at her again, but this time Eris was prepared. “We Claktills have long been prey to other, larger species. They may kidnap, enslave, and abuse us, but we always have the satisfaction of watching them pale when we show our fangs.”

“So you’re not planning on, uh, biting me?” Eris asked awkwardly.

“Claktills are peaceful by nature.” Miguri chortled. “When my people lived on our home planet, we used our sharp teeth to strip the bark from the mighty
galea
trees.”

“Your people don’t live there anymore?”

Miguri bowed his fluffy white head. “Rakorsian forces invaded our home planet over a century ago,” he said. “We Claktills have been scattered across the galaxy in refugee ships ever since.”

“That’s horrible!” Eris exclaimed.

He shrugged. “We survived. At least, those who escaped the chemical gas clouds released by the Rakorsians over the planet. All that is left now on Claktilla is a toxic biological soup.” He offered her a sad smile. “Horrible things always happen to those who least deserve it.”

“Don’t I know it,” she sighed. “So how did you end up here?”

Miguri glanced at the two Ssrisk at the control console. “Shall we sit down over there?” he suggested, indicating the outer wall. Eris nodded, and they sat on the floor near Miguri’s cell.

“I was a passenger on a cargo ship bound for Psilos when the Ssrisk attacked,” Miguri explained, leaning back against the curved wall. “I lost track of my family and thought I might pick up their trail in a populated center like Psilos.”

“Lost track? How so?” Eris asked.

Miguri shrugged and said, “It is a big galaxy.”

Eris sensed he was reluctant to say more. “All right. But what happened to the other people on the cargo ship? Why weren’t they taken prisoner too?”

“They are dead.”

Her eyes widened. “Then how did you survive?”

“The Ssrisk have a curious fascination with my species. On their home planet, Ssriss, Claktills are kept as pets. At least, that is my understanding, as no Claktill has ever returned from Ssriss.” Miguri’s hair drooped tiredly. “Although I suspect I shall soon learn the truth myself.”

“Miguri, that’s—”

Eris was cut off when an overhead speaker blared to life. “This is Captain Hroshk. All crew proceed to Pull stations immediately. Repeat, all crew to Pull stations.”

“Pull stations?” Eris asked.

Miguri looked surprised. “You really are a terrestrial.”

“Huh?”

“I mean your species has not yet discovered long-distance space travel. It is very rare to encounter someone who does not know about the Pull. The Pull is what spaceships use to travel across large distances quickly. You see my lamri?”

“Sure,” Eris agreed, glancing at the white orb attached to his belt. “As far as I can tell, it translates things.”

“It does much more than that,” the Claktill said. “It is also used to Pull. All spaceships carry a lamri at least several inches in diameter. If a ship pilot wishes to travel from one system to another, he attunes his ship’s lamri to a much larger lamri in the destination system’s interstellar navigation hub. When he activates the Pull, the big lamri pulls the ship with the smaller lamri toward it. The Pull between two lamri bends space and time, allowing ships to travel so rapidly it seems almost instantaneous.”

“But if the Pull is so fast, why aren’t we at Sirius already? Grashk said it was going to take three days to get there.”

“You need to be far enough away from any planetary or stellar objects before you can activate the Pull,” Miguri said. “If you start a Pull in the middle of a solar system, the bending of time and space could wipe out a planet, or the entire system—and probably your ship—in the process.”

The intercom blared to life again. “All crew ready for Pull.”

“Hold your breath,” Miguri said.

“Begin Pull in five, four …”

“Why?” Eris asked.

“It will hurt less.”

“… three …”

“What do you mean,
hurt
?”

“… two …”

“Do it!”

“… one.”

Eris sucked in a deep breath and prayed for dear life.

SHWOOP.

Time seemed to stand still as the lamri engaged. The
shwoop
noise resounded through the cell block as an incredible force pulled at them. Eris and Miguri’s hair and clothes billowed back as the spacecraft seemed to leap forward through the void. Matter stretched, and Eris thought she could actually feel the molecules of her body being pulled apart. It was disconcerting, it was mind-numbing, and it was
very
painful.

Mere seconds later, thankfully, the ship slowed and the pain faded.

“Are you all right?” Miguri asked.

“Ow,” Eris said eloquently, feeling a deep ache in her joints.

“Yes, it does take getting used to,” he agreed.

The intercom blared to life again. “Pull complete. All crew return to their stations. We will enter orbit in three days. That is all.”

Miguri scrambled to his feet. “Eris,” he said, “how did you know we were going to the Sirius system?”

“Grashk told me.”

“Did he say why?”

“Apparently they’re going to sell me to a Vekrori agent, whatever that means.”

Miguri’s hair spiked in alarm. Before Eris could react, he skittered off toward the control booth. “Excuse me,” Miguri twittered up at Grashk. “Is it wise to enter the Sirius system? I did not think the Ssrisk were welcome there.”

Grashk hissed derisively. “The Ssrisk are feared throughout the galaxy, Claktill. They are
welcome
in no system but their own.”

“But if we go too near Sirius A, the Psilosians will blow us out of the sky.”

“That is why we go to Sirius B,” Grashk snapped. “The black market in the Sirius B asteroid belt still holds out against all Psilosian attempts to shut it down. Captain Hroshk plans to meet his agent there and sell the human for a hefty profit.”

“Sirius B? Is that a planet?” Eris asked.

Grashk
phhh
-ed. “Foolish terrestrial. Sirius B is a white dwarf star, part of the binary Sirius star system.”

“And Sirius A?”

“The larger star. Its second planet is Psilos, home to the Psilosians.”

Eris tilted her head. “And you’re not worried about the Psilosians?”

“Worried?
Phhh!
We have been at war with Psilos for over three thousand years! The arrogant, idealistic Psilosians degrade us at every opportunity and refuse to acknowledge our superiority. It is enough to rot one’s tail fins.”

A species that doesn’t let the Ssrisk roll right over them? I think I’m going to like the Psilosians,
Eris thought. “So they aren’t a warrior race like yours?”

The blue alien scoffed. “Psilosians believe equality, peace, and kindness are the way to achieve a proper balance in the galaxy.”

“And the Ssrisk, of course, know that the only way to achieve balance is by conquering everyone.”

“Yes!” Grashk hissed. “Then all will grovel equally before us! You are more perceptive than I anticipated, human.”

Just as Eris began to think he was starting to warm up to her, the Ssrisk said, “Enough of your high-pitched chattering. Return to your cells.”

“I’m going to get some sleep,” Eris whispered to Miguri as they parted ways.

He nodded. “Sleep well, my friend.”

5

E
ris awoke sometime later and went looking for Miguri. She spotted him emerging from the washroom cell looking clean and refreshed.

“Is there a shower in there?” she asked hopefully.

“Indeed,” he replied. “Come, I will show you.”

They went into the washroom cell, and Miguri demonstrated how to use the shower controls. After Miguri left, Eris stepped into the shower unit, fully clothed as he had instructed. A pulsating sensation washed over her body, almost like being hit with waves of warm, scented water, except there was no water involved.
Well, that’s one for the history books. A dry shower. Who ever heard of a dry shower?

Eris emerged from the washroom and saw Miguri perched on the sill of his cell door picking bits of fluff from his furry tail. As she walked toward him, he looked up and said, “Excellent timing, my friend. Breakfast should arrive in a few minutes.”

She snapped her fingers. “You just reminded me! Can you explain something to me?”

“I will certainly try.”

“It’s the way you talk about time,” she said. “You say minutes, but your minutes can’t be the same as my minutes. And neither can your hours or days. Every species must have a time system that’s based on how long their planet takes to rotate, right?”

Miguri’s hair fluffed up. “You are correct. But just as the lamri translates our words, it also translates time.”

“So when I say ‘one minute,’ you hear something completely different?”