Gaun-Tris stepped out upon the wide balcony overlooking the city of Sandine where clusters of towering edifices dotted the skyline. When she had first come to the Sandine Palace, sister of the newly-crowned queen, she would step onto that same balcony breathing in the fresh air and enjoying the peaceful look of the majestic and beautiful city that her sister ruled over. It was a graceful place with large winged creatures that floated upon the air like feathers in a breeze, much unlike their dark home world Voctari that was a fractured monument to a warlord culture. Looking out once again, she saw but one of the winged-creatures. Their numbers were dwindling, and the once peaceful metropolis was getting darker by the day with the continuous eruption of flames by night accompanied by the ever-present sound of weapons-fire. Sandine and the entire planet Estara was becoming war-like and ravaged, much like her home planet.
Where once the plump woman would step out on the balcony for a deep breath of air, enjoying the feeling of the warm breeze caressing her brittle orange mop, on this visit she found herself distressed by the view. Stepping back from the balcony’s edge, the sound of screams from the nearby streets sprouting chills upon her wide body, she turned to retreat inside the palace. With a final intake of air attempting to clear her constantly blocked nasal passages, she wheezed and wiped her mouth upon the sleeve of her dark green dress.
Once inside, she commanded the closing of the door with the gentle touch of the pad at its side. It was time for her to continue on her quest to locate her sister Mord-Tris, to deliver news that she was aware of that would not be well received. Anxious about the unfavorable reaction she knew she would get, she stepped forward in awkward ungraceful strides noticing that her leg hurt more than usual. Reaching down to massage it, she limped on, for she was accustomed to the constant thump of pain in her muscles. Sensing the running of her nose once more, she thought back over the past years full of the inhaling of burning herbs and smelly gasses that were all the products that aided in her prophetic abilities. As a follower of the Farakah religion, she was one of the strongest, but couldn’t help but wonder if it were the constant brewing and burning that had resulted in the damaging of her nostrils and the soreness of her muscles.
Shaking her head, she wiped her sleeve across her face once more after another hearty wheeze. Her thoughts didn’t matter. She was a powerful seer, and it was because of that gift that she was on a quest to find her sister. Remembering her most recent prophecy, Gaun-Tris felt a shiver traverse her back. Mord-Tris will not be happy, she thought.
After climbing a set of wide and elaborate stairs, she stopped before the dressing room of her queen sister. Two guards stood vigil just outside the large double doorway dressed in the brown and gold uniform of the Voctari Military. As someone who had always had a soft voice with a timid personality, she stopped before them, looking downward to avoid eye contact. “Is Mord-Tris here?” she asked barely above her usual hiss-like whisper.
Glancing quickly up, she caught side of a nod of agreement from one of the guards. “Yes, your majesty,” he replied.
Stepping forward to the double doors, the guard reached for the elaborate door handle to open it for
“Gaun-Tris!” Mord-Tris shrieked, pulling the crown down while quickly turning to face her sister.
Feeling the shriek of her sibling within her bones and witnessing the angry look upon Mord-Tris’s pink and round face, Gaun-Tris stepped quickly to the side of the large dresser beside the door. Being the youngest, she had been struck many times by both sisters in the past, and though accustomed to the feel, she tended to always seek cover in the hopes of avoidance. With a thud, she heard the door shut behind her.
“What are you doing here?” Mord-Tris shouted with a scolding tone, placing the crown on the table beside the mirror before stepping quickly across the room towards Gaun-Tris. “You are to stay in your chamber when Biel-Tris is away.”
Grasping the corner of the dresser, she leaned close to its side, a new shiver racing across her back. “I thought you should know what I sensed,” she said, her words shaky with her lack of confidence. “Before Biel-Tris returns from Volpa.”
“You had a vision?” Mord-Tris asked, stopping before her. After a slight pause, a smile formed upon Mord-Tris’s stout face. “Come sister,” she said while pointing to a small sofa near the window. “Sit with me and tell me what you saw.” As Mord-Tris turned, her large black gown swirling upon her ample hips, she approached the sofa and lowered herself upon it, patting the cushion beside her.
Gaun-Tris stepped forward slowly towards the seat. Feeling once again the mucus within her nostrils, she wheezed once more while lifting her arm to wipe at her face. She could see a look of disgust sprout upon her sister’s face, but was not affected by it. She knew she was foul in the eyes of both her sisters, but it did not bother her. She was who she was, and nothing could change that.
Lowering herself to the sofa, she gazed out the window behind at the view of the Estaran Ocean. It was much more beautiful than the side of the palace that her chamber looked upon, and for a moment she simply wanted to enjoy the tremendous vista.
“Gaun-Tris! What did you see?”
The sound of her sister’s commanding voice pulled her immediately back to the reality of the moment. Turning to look again into Mord-Tris’s eyes, she thought of all that had come to her in the dark of her odorous chamber. “Progue,” she whispered.
Mord-Tris’s eyebrows immediately rose with the expression of her surprise. “You told us Progue was dead.”
Again she could hear the scolding tone in her sister’s voice. She had expected it, but never enjoyed it. Her head dropped low on her shoulders as her voice grew even lighter. “I said his life force was gone.”
“Yes. That’s usually what happens when you die.”
“It’s back.”
Mord-Tris shot to her feet, walking away a few steps before turning back to face Gaun-Tris once more. “How is this possible?”
Gaun-Tris shook her head. “I don’t know. I just know that it’s back.”
“Biel-Tris will be furious. We watched the King’s body burn, but she wanted both he and his son dead. The witch Tinsia got away. She’s responsible for this. Could she have resurrected her brother?”
“I only know his life force is back.”
Mord-Tris walked back to the sofa causing Gaun-Tris to press into its back. “What else did you see? He’s a coward who is easily controlled. How much damage can he do? Tell me now!”
Gaun-Tris reached up to take a lock of her hair in her hands which she began to twirl within her fingers. “But he is also virtuous.” Fearing the reaction to her next words, she knew they must be spoken, and so she continued after a heavy gulp to clear the dryness in her mouth. “And he is with despair.”
Mord-Tris’s mouth fell agape. “What are you saying, sister?”
Gaun-Tris gazed up again. As the onslaught of fear left her body as if it never had a place there, she felt a smile form upon her lips. “The sheyd is forming.”
Biel-Tris grimaced with revulsion feeling the gravitational force of her yacht's landing on the dark landscape of Volpa. Having visited the steamy planet that she had described as wretched on many an occasion twice before, she knew what to expect when her guardsmen opened the doorway and escorted her out for an important meeting with Chaktol Vanyoc; Emperor in her own terms. The planet was always dreary and warm being close to its star, though its habitable locations were consistently angled away from it while its highest pole baked in the direct light of the blazing orb. To her, however, what was most dreadful about the planet was its savage inhabitants, the filthy Tsri-Volpa. Even with her profitable and beneficial alliance with the former sworn enemy of her own race, a sensation of nausea generally traversed the normally steadfast queen each time she was faced with a conversation with the fierce and, in her opinion, intolerable creatures.
Never-the-less, Biel-Tris had important matters to discuss with the Chaktol having been given once more information derived from her visionary Farakah sisters. The Tsri-Volpa had snatched another human scub from whatever rock it was that they pulled them from, and had stupidly let it escape. But this particular scub, according to the information her sisters had provided, could prove to be troublesome to the delicate order she had ushered in, including the freedoms she had granted to the Tsri-Volpa.
As she felt the ship’s engines whir to a stop, she stood, prepared to step from the comfort of the extravagant gleaming silver and pink chamber within her yacht, into the revolting environment of Volpa. With the whoosh of mechanics, the doorway at the side of the chamber opened, immediately sucking inside unpleasant air that was arid and dank, causing her to scowl while waiving her hand in front of her nose. With a huff, she stepped out and down the three steps that were carpeted with a rich ruby color before dropping onto the dark landing platform.
Gazing around her, she could see the black-brown spiky cliffs that surrounded the capital city which was much smaller than one would expect a central hub of government to be. Within that capital, all buildings were low to the ground, some leading to within the ground, save for one; the black spire that she approached. The landing platform was located half way up the high edifice suspended upon darkened struts that reached down and out like curled claws. At the end of the platform, a large doorway was open to welcome her.
With her long legs walking rapidly across the platform towards the doorway, her flowing pink gown split at the front to afford uninterrupted traction to her knee-high white boots, Biel-Tris avoided extending curious glances out at the city below. She was a determined woman predisposed with a mission and very little patience who also cared little that she, the guardsmen that were trying to keep up with her, and the gleaming starship with smooth round lines behind her all seemed particularly out of place on the planet Volpa. Without so much as the slightest hesitation, she sailed passed the large doorway and quickly circled left to another large door that was closed. Waving her hand, she signaled the large Tsri-Volpa that stood vigil at either side. “Open the door!” She shouted, her high-pitched wail echoing within the large entry hall. With another wave of the hand, she instructed her own guardsman to hold in the entryway.
As the doors opened, she did not stop in entering the inner chamber, a tall and dark room with high skylights delivering ominous streaks of light here and there. The clacking of her heavy boot heels echoed a thunderous rhythm throughout the high walls of the chamber, mixing with the resounding rattle of the doors behind her rumbling back to the closed position. “Vanyoc!” She shouted, continuing her pace towards the center of the room. “I’m in a hurry, show yourself!”
Stepping into a beam of light upon a platform at the front of the chamber, a tall creature with dark leathered skin revealed itself. It was dressed in a tight shiny jacket of deep ruby that was accented with bronze colored studs atop pants of dark brown that were tucked into black boots covering its mammoth feet. “Vir tu svelt poljan, Biel-Tris, ma queen,” it spoke in a thunderous roar. With an awkward bow forward, the weapons fastened to its side showed their large size in the shadows of the creature’s slow movement.
“You fool, Vanyoc!” She shrieked with an echo that reverberated circling the cavernous receiving room. Vanyoc gave no reaction to her words, holding a solid stare in her direction of deep brown pupils floating upon glassy yellow as it stepped behind a desk of deep ebony that gleamed at its top with the control panels upon it. “You let a scub escape recently. A human. Tell me what you know of the pathetic flesh-ball.”
“I no member you interest in scub business fore?” Vanyoc said in a deep resounding tone, though
Biel-Tris raised her eyebrows with the surprise at the insolence behind the question. “I do not explain myself to you. Answer my question. Tell me what happened and what you’re doing to retrieve the beastly human?”
Before an answer passed the deep dark lips of the Tsri-Volpa Chaktol, movement from the corner of her eye caused her to turn her head abruptly, her long auburn hair fluttering across her shoulders. A large being stepped forth from the shadows beside the platform into the light, a creature much taller than Vanyoc with pale beige skin and long brown locks that flowed passed its wide shoulders. “Ahh, Biel-Tris of Voctari,” the being said with a deep voice. “At last we meet.”
Biel-Tris spun around to face the approaching creature with her feet firmly spread in a purposeful look of command. “How dare you address me?” She shouted. “Bow before your queen!”
The creature arrived to stand before her, offering a simple respectful nod of the head. As Biel-Tris gazed up at the height of the being, she noticed how similar he was to Voctaran, though his flesh was a strange beige color and no Voctaran male had ever grown to such a height. Her eyes were just above its stomach.
“I mean no disrespect, Biel-Tris,” it continued. “But you are not my queen.” Its height was similar to the Tsri-Volpa, yet it was clearly a different species than she had encountered before. Its skin was smooth across its face and its hair was soft and brown, dropping across its bare shoulders. Its supple chest was also bare and open above a strip of white cloth that seemed to perhaps be a bandage across its stomach. As for its tall and muscular legs, they were clothed in thick brown trousers accented by a wide black belt. In many ways, it was attractive to her, though its actions were an affront to her leadership.
“Vanyoc, explain this!” She commanded.
“I will speak for Vanyoc,” the creature responded quickly, allowing little time for Vanyoc to interject.
Glancing up to where Vanyoc stood upon the platform, Biel-Tris was surprised to see that Vanyoc, Chaktol of the mighty Tsri-Volpa and the most powerful ruler upon the planet Volpa, continued to gaze upon the controls embedded within its desk seeming unconcerned with the conversation occurring around him.
“Please allow me to introduce myself,” the alien being said, baiting her to return her gaze back up into its ample dark pupils. “I am Vaul, emissary of the Shri,” it said with a slight bow of the head in a secondary offer of respect.
“Shri?” Biel-Tris said with a bit of a gasp. Glancing back towards Vanyoc, she felt the sudden
Looking back at the tall being, it continued. “I too have a vested interest in the return of the human you are referencing. He is my property, and a bit of a thorn in my side.” At the conclusion of his words, Vaul pointed to the bandage across its stomach.
Biel-Tris glanced down to the white fabric stretched tight across Vaul’s abdomen. “It injured you. Then you were there when it escaped?”
“I was,” it said with a slight nod of the head. “It was provided with a weapon at the scub-market. Something aided its escape. We are investigating,” Vaul said with a glance up at Vanyoc. “But enough about his escape. What is your interest in this human? He is uninteresting from what I saw. Not a good find. I assumed our profit would be low.”
Biel-Tris released a sigh, her defiance in demanding obedience from Vaul changing into wonderment of possibilities an alliance with the legendary but mysterious Shri may grant her. “I’m here at the advice of my idiot sisters who serve as my council. Though I don’t understand why I would care about an uninteresting human, as you have called him. My sisters have not steered me wrong in the past. He must be recaptured.”
“Interesting,” Vaul replied. “Unexpected, but interesting. You should be pleased with events of the morning here then, Biel-Tris of Voctari.”
Biel-Tris’s eyebrows rose once more. “Then you have the scub?”
Vaul glanced up towards Vanyoc once more. “Not yet. But we at last know where he is.”
“What do you mean? Vanyoc?” Biel-Tris also looked up to the platform where Vanyoc glowed in the flickering blues and purples from the lights upon the desk.
“Signal to za scub you seek tracked. It stepped out of tracker blocker. Lacroveria. We locate.”
“Sadly Lacroveria is proving troublesome.” The creature named Vaul interjected.
“Why sadly? Dispatch a team to collect the filthy vermin.”
“Normally we would use the Avaskiel Beam. There is something about that planet that is making the beam unreliable at the surface. But Vanyoc is dispatching a team to the scub’s location.”
“Ship at Brax Station,” Vanyoc said, still gazing intently at the control panels upon his desk. “Brax on Lacroveria. It moving to scub.”
“Handle it quickly,” Biel-Tris shouted in an attempt to reassert her command. Though she was
Vaul was watching intently as Vanyoc issued commands into a communication device in the deep and disturbing language of the Tsri-Volpa, but at the queen’s words, he turned his attention back to her. “Perhaps I was not clear, Biel-Tris of Voctari. I mentioned I was emissary of the Shri. I did not say that I was Shri.”
It was a fairly simple question. Why is there a scub on this ship? The answers and the reaction he got from asking that simple question bothered Edge, leaving him drifting even further into the overpowering despondency within him. Stretched out in one of two seats within the bubble upon the Starship Harmony’s belly, truly the controls of a weapons turret yet a spot he had discovered that he strangely found serene, he stared forward at the icy flurries swirling passed the clear viewport. The ship was on Lacroveria; the ice planet home to Gainog and the adopted home to Tyrsa, the woman whose words were troubling him. It was parked near to the edge of an icy cliff that seemed expansive as the wind whipped over the precipice and down, curling the wisps of snow in its grip back up and towards the bubble. While the large pilot of the ship and the ship’s unusually savage-looking captain had braved the frigid temperatures for a visit home, Edge relived the memory of a troubling conversation.
Why is there a scub on this ship?
Tyrsa had been walking at the high pace of her muscular legs towards the ships control bridge clearly unwilling to converse. Edge, however, had persisted in chasing her with a refusal to give up on an answer, pushing in on the button that was her temper. You’re such a contradiction, Tyrsa. You rescue me, David, Tinker, but yet another Earth woman is kept in slavery!
Stop, right zere, little one! Tyrsa had at last halted, raising her hand firmly pointing towards his eyes. Accept the truuts. You are scub, as is David and Tinker. All I did was steal you away from being sold into a life in chains, or dead as some beast’s dinner. I freed you, zhat’s all.
Great. And thank you for that. But why not help her too?
How do you know she wants za help? Huh? Zis is strange place you have come to, and I will give you zat you need za time to learn za ways of tings here. But know zis. Zhere are tings on zis ship zat are out of my control. There was a frightening look to her eyes. He remembered the expression as he drifted through his limited memory, recalling that it was a moment when he realized however close he thought he had gotten with the woman when they shared time in a cell, that her complexities were not something he could predict. Don’t question me again, she had said sharply before turning to walk
As a strong gust billowed puffs of white around the viewport he was facing, he sighed, the feeling of sadness within him pulling him deeper into despair. On top of his current situation, lost in a foreign galaxy healing from where a savage race had infused his spine with a tracking device, the shadowy memories of a past life that he knew he once had continued to taunt him with a sense of misery he couldn’t control. “Why am I doing this?” He whispered alone to himself followed by a long winded sigh. Somewhere in his past, he knew he had been considering ending his life. Perhaps that dark side of himself that he couldn’t remember beyond shadowy thoughts knew better. Perhaps that former person that he once was even had the courage to do it.
Lifting a finger to his eyes to wipe the moisture that was forming, the long leathered coat that he was curled up under slipped down off his shoulders. It was cold in the deep place under the belly of the ship, triggering a shiver as he stopped the tear from dropping down his cheek. Pulling the jacket back up over his chest that was covered only by the purple vest that seemed his only option, he sank further into the large chair that hung from the ceiling.
Continuing to gaze forward, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps upon the ladder that led to his place of solitude. Quickly, he checked his eyes for moisture once again, holding the nap of the jacket close against him.
“You know this is basically a big gun.” The voice was David’s, spoken as the tall and burly human dropped off the final rung and stepped forward between the two seats with his thick and chest-length golden locks draped across his shoulders and over his vest. “And it’s stinking cold down here.” David glanced at Edge’s face for a moment before sitting within the opposite control seat. “You haven’t been to the infirmary in three days. Nerpa days I should say. Almost the same as Earth.”
Edge glanced across to see his fellow human scub leaned upon the arm of the chair he had sat in, gazing directly at him with determined eyes. “I didn’t know I had to check in.”
“Well you do,” David responded without hesitation. “Tinker was badly infected when Tyrsa pulled him from the scub-market. They had damaged him, so they didn’t care if he lived or died. But still, I need to make sure you’re healing well.”
“What do you mean damaged?”
“Not the point. I need to make sure you’re healing.”
His words circled within Edge’s mind, but they were as shadowy as the memories of his past life; not a priority. “Why do you remember your name, and I don’t?”
David sighed, looking forward as he also sank back in his seat. Apparently prepared to spend more time in the strange gun console than he thought he would, he lifted his legs up, placing one boot onto the dashboard before them with the other crossed over his shin. “I wish I could answer you with more
“I saw him when you took the prince’s box into the infirmary three days ago. He wasn’t like that before he was abducted?”
“No. Believe it or not he remembers his entire life before the abduction. He was a bartender in Fort Lauderdale with an army of friends. Now he can take a ship apart and put it back together in better shape, but he can’t stop chattering nonsense that nobody understands, stuttering when you do understand him, and his body is constantly in motion; spasms. That’s why he jolts. He even moves when he sleeps.” From where Edge rested with his head buried deep into the cushioned back of his chair, he watched David’s expressions as he spoke. The words were disturbing, but more gripping was the look on the hardened David’s face that seemed to display just how much he cared about a damaged scub called Tinker. “And he cries a lot,” David continued though the words became slightly muffled. “I started calling him Tinker because he kept taking things apart. That’s when we realized that not only did his spasms stop when he was tinkering with things, but he could put everything right back together. No matter how complex. And he could fix anything that was broken. By the time we figured he remembered things and just had a hard time putting his words together, I found out his real name is Rob. But by then, Tinker had stuck. And he likes it for some strange reason.”
In his mind, Edge could see the young man called Tinker from that moment three days before as a box was pushed towards the hub of the ship. He remembered knowing immediately who it was as he gazed at a man who was even shorter and thinner than he himself was, with arms crossed while his torso convulsed repeatedly causing to him bang his shoulders against the wall often. There were moments in the few minutes that he had watched Tinker that he focused in on the young man’s arms that were exposed with altering shades of brown and blue where the force of constant impacts were causing bruises to sprout atop his very pale skin. Even the dark brown hair upon Tinker’s head, shoulder-length but unkempt and wavy, would sway with the force of his constant movement. He remembered too that he was slightly fearful of Tinker when the young man had looked his way and had begun spouting gibberish with his eyes locked upon Edge’s. That was the moment, Edge thought, which began his retreat into avoidance. Now as he listened to David’s words, he began to feel regretful.
“Makes you think, doesn’t it?”
Edge was pulled from his thoughts, looking up to see David gazing across towards him once more. He responded with a light nod of the head.
“For me, it makes me realize that no matter how bad it is, it could have been worse. Not to mention, how many of us do you think are out there?” David said nodding towards the snowy viewport. “How many have been sold in that awful place that Tyrsa plucked us from?”
It was a good question; one that Edge hadn’t considered yet. With a glance towards the viewport,
David gave a satisfied glance as Edge rose up higher to a seated position in the chair before turning forward once more to glance out at the blustery atmosphere outside. With a sigh released, Edge could see that David was wandering back into the memories he still had. “Just the first name. And that I was in my second year at Harvard Medical. I had a brilliant future ahead of me. No doubt I was going to be a surgeon. I was much smaller back then with hair that was cropped close to my head; a bookworm who never left the townhouse I had nearby. Until one night, I went into Cambridge and got myself nice and sauced. I had a reason that I don’t remember, but it was a good one. I was really upset about something, so I turned to the closest bar to feel better, or to forget. Not sure which. Ever been to Harvard Yard?”
“No,” Edge replied with a shake of the head before remembering that his memories were not reliable. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m probably the only brilliant student of Harvard that left his mark by barfing on the foot of the statue of John Harvard. Everyone else rubs it for luck. I hurled all over it.”
For the first time since the abduction, Edge felt his cheeks rising to a smile. Watching David talk he could see a smile there as well, though it dropped off David’s face quickly.
“And then the light came. Right after I emptied my gut.”
There was silence in the turret for a moment as Edge could see David remembering that moment of abduction that taunted his own mind with a vehement persistence. Visions of his own when the light flickered around him danced within his damaged memory for a moment, and then he heard David take a large inhale of air, pulling him again from introspection. “That’s all I remember though. I feel like I almost have my last name often, and then it just slips away from me. I can see my mother’s face, but I don’t remember her name or even if she was alive or dead. It’s all shadows. I think we were pretty wealthy. I lived in a townhouse that she owned near the school. I can see the details of it right down to the fabric on the burgundy couch at the top of the stairs. I can even see my mother sitting on that couch. But I have no memories of a father at all.” Turning back towards Edge he raised his eyebrows and returned the smile to his face. “Fortunately I remember what I learned in med school, though. Not that I was very far into it, but what I do know has helped here and there in this dank section of space.”
Edge took in the story that David told and then sat up further, pulling his legs that were curled up on the seat down to the floor.
“It helps to talk about it,” David said, still gazing across at Edge’s face.
“I guess.”
“And it gets easier. It’s like the scar across my stomach. It never goes away, but it’s healed and it’s stopped hurting.”
Edge nodded. Though the words were somewhat comforting, the relentless feeling that there was a sadness that transcended the abduction would not go away. “I know that what happened to us could easily seem like the reason I’m depressed. My problem is that I don’t know why I am. It’s deeper than the abduction, David. Something bad happened to me on Earth. Something that had me so far into a dark sadness, that it transcends the memories. I feel it even though I don’t remember what happened.”
“Then how do you know it’s not part of what the Tsri-Volpa did?”
“I don’t know how I know it’s not. There are memories there. They’re covered up, but they’re there.”
Though Edge could see sympathy within David’s eyes, he could also see an inability to understand as the newfound friend tightened his lips and glanced down to the floor for a moment before looking back up to respond. “Edge, I’m not sure what to say to make you feel better. I can’t even tell you it gets better. It takes time to get better, but it never goes away. What I can do is offer you friendship and ask you to give it that time.”
Edge looked away back to the viewport where flurries continued to dance upon the bitter wind just outside. David’s words sank in and made sense, but didn’t serve to make him feel any better. Even David though, had admitted that feeling better required time. Perhaps his new friend was right, he thought. Looking back to where David still held a strong gaze in his direction, he gave the only response he could at the moment with a slight nod of the head.
“It’s freezing down here, my friend.” David said breaking the silence of Edge’s response. “And I hate this ice cube of a planet.” Dropping his boots back down to the floor, David stood, reaching a hand out towards Edge. “Come on up to the infirmary. Let me make sure your skin’s not green underneath that charming green bandage.”
Edge’s cheeks reacted with the forming of another slight smile. Reaching a hand out, he took David’s offer of friendship, though the strength of the tall blonde was a bit of a shock as he was pulled to a stance. Raising his eyebrows with the jacket dropping to the floor, he stood. “Thanks,” he said.
#
The bandage was back on delivering a mild warmth to Edge’s tummy, though the warmth of the long jacket was much more desirable. The ship seemed to always be heated just enough to support life and not a degree higher. Interestingly though, he thought, Gainog, a being from an ice planet, seemed to be the only one on the ship privileged enough to wear more than a vest above his midriff. With a shake of the head as the thought sailed through his mind, he pulled the coat back across his back.
Pushing his arms through the brown leathery sleeves, he glanced towards the doorway to catch sight of Tinker as the young man entered the far side of the infirmary to immediately sit upon the floor.
Continuing his gaze while pulling the front of the coat tight around him, he noticed the shabby way the short and dark haired man was dressed with a green vest similar to David’s hanging off one shoulder, pants that were only partially fastened which hung low and loose upon his waist, and a pair of mismatched boots; one of which was low rising and completely unfastened. His skin was pale, even more so than Edge’s own light complexion. Reminded of David’s story of the damage done to Tinker’s mind during his abduction, Edge approached the unusual Tinker.
Kneeling down to be at eye level, Edge extended a hand in friendship. “I’m called Edge,” he said. “It’s good to meet you, Tinker.”
Tinker’s eyes were locked upon his. Though his head was in a constant state of motion, his deep brown and glassy pupils moving with the motion. “I re-re-re-mem-member you,” he said softly, raising his right hand to curl before his lips.
Edge was unsure of what answer to give, feeling slightly uncomfortable with himself at having waited so long for an introduction. He continued to gaze upon the small and frail young man, noticing that though he was strangely considered brilliant and Edge knew had been the inventor of the low level laser powered razors that he himself had used, Tinker’s chin and neck was shaved unevenly with spots of growth here and there. It seemed the young man couldn’t even properly use that which he had created.
After a moment of reflection struggling for the right words to say, Edge simply pulled from what he knew. According to David’s story, though this poor soul on the floor seemed mentally unbalanced, he apparently completely understood what was happening around him. “They took my life from me too. But I don’t remember my life.”
As he completed the words, he noticed movement in the corridor outside the infirmary. It was rapid motion, shimmering silvery fabric. The woman he knew by then was called Princess Tinsia was approaching, and apparently in a hurry.
“Sad,” Tinker said between thuds against the wall. “You’re s-s-s-sad. You were sss-sad th-there too.”
With a quick glance back at Tinker, he wondered for a moment of what thoughts were going through the damaged mind of the young man. His thoughts were interrupted, however, as the wide shimmering gown whipped him in the face with the rapid entrance of the princess.
“You!” the princess shouted upon entry. Edge stood, turning to see her pointing a finger at David. The female scub followed closely behind, their eyes locking upon her entrance. She was plain-looking with pale cheeks, dark eyes and brown hair that hung just to her shoulders. She was also equal in height to his own size. Glancing down as she passed him, he could see the scar between where her gray top ended and her shorts began.
“Problem, your rapture-ness?” David responded with sarcasm beaming across his face.
“My brother. He’s not right. You have done this.”
The scub hung towards the back of the room near to where Edge was watching, and as he observed the young human female closely, the princess’s words dropped into hazy background sound. Stepping near to the scub, he decided it was time to meet her. “What’s your name?” He whispered softly near to her ear.
Glancing towards him with a look of surprise upon her face, their eyes met in an awkward gaze. “Elyse.” She answered, turning away quickly. “Please don’t talk to me.”
Edge continued to gaze at her profile, pale but showing the potential for beauty. “You don’t need to be a slave on this ship.”
Glancing back again quickly, she uttered a sharp retort. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Eleeeze!” Tinsia whined. Though Edge had missed most of what the princess and David had spoken of, he was returned from his hazy thoughts of the strange scub named Elyse with the surprise of the commanding voice. “We will accomplish nothing here.” The princess marched towards the doorway that she had entered from beside where Tinker still sat upon the floor, turning abruptly back with another point of a finger towards David. “I hold you responsible should anything happen to your prince.”
With a whoosh that blew the limp and uneven brown hair hanging at the side of Tinker’s forehead, the shimmering fabric from Tinsia’s long gown whipped out and around the exit doorway. Elyse following to make her own quick exit, pausing at the door to flash a quick but serious glance towards Edge before rounding the doorway herself. Tinker barely looked up at the hasty movement of the two women, but continued his own rapid bobbing backwards and forwards.
With a creasing forehead, Edge turned back inwards to face David. “What was all that about?”
“The almighty Prince Progue,” David replied. Leaning back against the central examining bed that Edge himself had occupied just moments before, David’s long blonde hair swept across his face causing him to push it aside with the raising of a hand. “She thinks I messed up his brain pulling him out of the deep freeze. He’s depressed. Can’t imagine why.”
“David, why are they here? What’s really happening on this ship?”
Shaking his head, David’s locks fell forward once more, though he allowed them to fall free without interference. “A lot happened before we both got here, Edge,” he said with a softened tone. “It’s crazy to even think about, like we’re stuck in a bizarre sci-fi movie. The gray-blue royals were the ruling body before they were overthrown. Apparently the Five Systems was a better place then. No abductions, no slave trading.”
With a quick turn of the head, Edge noticed that Tinker had left the room. In the distance he could still hear the ranting of the princess growing fainter, though in his mind David’s words registered mixing into a soup of thoughts of Elyse and further thoughts of Tinker. Curiosity brewing within him, he continued to gaze towards the empty doorway. “How long ago were they overthrown?”
“Hard to say in Earth years if you know what I mean, but my guess is about three years. I think that’s how long I’ve been here and it happened right about when I got here. The war was happening then, and the lawless like the Tsri-Volpa were rising up. They were apparently under control before the king was overthrown and slain.”
Turning back towards David, he was surprised to see the tall blonde climbing onto one of the beds within the room, his height causing the boots upon his feet to hang off the end of the thin mattress.
“Not much to do when we’re on Lacrofreezia, but wait for Mom, Papa Bear and the big black kitty to come home. I hate this planet.” Extending an arm to point at the second bed in the room, David continued. “Wanna pull up a chair.”
“Rain check,” Edge replied quickly, curious thoughts of the scub named Elyse still dancing within his head.
“Please tell me you’re not going back to the gun bubble to wallow.”
“No,” Edge replied quickly with the slight upturn of the corners of his lips. “I promise. I’ m just gonna take a walk.”
“Walk, my ass.” David responded curtly while sitting up. “You’re gonna go spy on the blue bitch. Aren't you?”
“Maybe,” Edge said, turning back towards the door.
“Edge,” David said reaching out to touch Edge’s arm to pull his attention back. “Be careful around Tinsia. She has a personality like nitro-glycerin, and she’s very protective of Elyse.”
“Protective or possessive?”
“Either way. It doesn’t matter. Elyse wants nothing to do with other humans. Just be careful.”
Edge nodded, truly feeling the appreciation of David’s concern. His curiosity still bit with an incessant persistence, however, that drove him to turn back towards the door. “I will,” he said stepping towards the exit.
#
Pulling the front of the brown jacket tighter across his chest, Edge felt the chill of the cold environment as he wandered further towards the front of the parked starship in the direction of the quarters he knew were occupied by Tinsia, Elyse and the prince he had unknowingly pushed aboard. As
As his mind churned, he remembered that moment of sitting within the bubble watching the snow swirl passed as he glimpsed Tyrsa, Gainog and Frock exiting to begin a walk towards whatever home Gainog had on the strange ice planet. While he was inclined to smile as he recalled the playful Frock jumping upon the blanket of white that was the planet’s surface, diving under the drifts before jumping back up with a stream of puffy white falling from his black fur, the feelings of remorse were overpowering. As the memory of speaking to Elyse and her strange reaction to his attempts to speak with her re-surfaced, he was interrupted by the unusual grunting of a voice he knew immediately to be Tinker.
Where he stood, he was approaching a landing with a view down to a lower level that appeared to be where the sound of struggling was coming from. With a new curiosity suddenly overtaking his contemplations, he stepped forward to the landing to see Tinker by the exit hatch thudding his shoulder against the wall.
“No, n-no, n-no, n-n-n-ooo!” Tinker wailed as he stepped away from the hatch, circling in uneven but rapid steps before returning to the hatch.
“Tinker!” Edge shouted, unable to control his concern for a poor soul that appeared to be very uneasy. Assuming since that was the hatch that Tyrsa and Gainog had exited from that Tinker must be anxious for their return, he continued. “They’ll be back soon.”
Tinker immediately glanced up with his torso bobbing rapidly once more. “No-n-n-no," he wailed before racing across the entryway to place his hands upon the ladder that Edge was at the top of, reaching upwards. “H-h-hel-l-p-p-p p-p-prrrr-rince.”
Gazing down into the desperate expression upon Tinker’s face, Edge could see the glossy beginning of teary moisture forming within the young man’s eyes. Curiosity again caused his forehead to crease with the wonderment of what could have this damaged soul so bothered. Thinking back to David’s words, he remembered again that though Tinker seemed mentally challenged, he actually was quite brilliant and aware of all that was happening around him, as well as all that had happened throughout his entire life. With his heart impacted by the pleas of the young man beneath him, Edge made a decision to attempt to investigate what was bothering young Tinker so very much.
Stepping quickly upon the ladder and turning around to traverse it downwards, Edge descended rapidly until dropping to the floor on the lower level. Immediately he felt Tinker’s hand grasp his arm with a tug towards the exit hatchway.
“P-p-p-pl-l-ease, c-c-come.” There was great difficulty in the speaking that Tinker was doing which
caused the young man’s head to bob more frequently and jolt at the end of each syllable as if he was attempting to thrust the words out of his mouth. Edge watched him closely, feeling the sinking of emotion within his chest. As the small man that Tinker was continued to tug at his arm between the abrupt convulsing and bobbing of his torso, Edge’s eyes narrowed with uncertainty while giving in and allowing himself to be drawn towards the exit hatch. Stepping cautiously following the young Tinker’s lead, he stopped short of the hatch as Tinker released him while turning to slap a hand at the thick paned portal beside the doorway. “L-l-l-l-look. P-p-p-p-plllease.”
Again, the desperate plea along with the uneasy expression upon the unusual Tinker’s unkempt face tugged at the emotions deep within Edge. Moving one step forward cautiously, he glanced out the portal to see amongst the swirling white puffs circling just beyond the protection of the ship’s walls, the fading signs of footsteps from just beneath the exit hatch leading away towards the left. Remembering watching that moment when Tyrsa, Gainog and Frock had left the ship, he knew that these footsteps travelled in a different direction, and were not from long ago seeing that they had not been blown away in the constant huffs of the breezy snowstorm.
Turning back in, he glanced around to see remnants of moisture on the floor of the entryway where snow presumably blew in. Someone had just left, he thought as he glanced again towards Tinker.
“P-p-p-p-pr-r-r-ince.” Completing the single word, Tinker slammed his heavily bruised shoulder against the wall as if to force the syllable out.
Glancing once more towards the portal and then back at Tinker, Edge pondered the conversation between Tinsia and David as he took in the vision of the footprints in the snow once more. “What is he doing out there?”
“P-p-p-p-pr-r-r-r-“ With another thud of his shoulder to the wall followed by a second, Tinker tried to force the word out once again. “Pr-r-r-“
“Stop!” Edge shouted reaching out to grasp at the young man’s discolored skin at the top of his arms. “I know, the prince is outside. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
Shaking his head violently as his curly brown locks swayed across his cheeks, Tinker continued to struggle for understanding. “P-p-p-pr-r-r-res-sss-sss-sip-pis.”
“Precipice,” Edge responded, still holding tight to Tinker’s shoulders. With another glance towards the portal, words spoken not long before within the infirmary rang louder within his head. “He’s gonna kill himself.” Releasing Tinker’s shoulders, he glanced back to see the young man nodding rapidly with his disheveled hair flowing back and forth in the motion. Seemingly satisfied that Edge understood what he was saying, Tinker then circled with continuing uneven steps around Edge to the opposite side of the hatchway. Edge spun to see what it was that the young man was doing to catch sight of Tinker pulling a covering made up of furry gray skins down from where it hung upon the wall. Though his body continued to abruptly jerk here and there, Tinker swung the wrap across his back side.
“You’re not going out there, Tinker.”
“S-s-s-s-save p-p-pr-prince.”
As Tinker continued to struggle to wrap the furs around his rapidly moving shoulders, Edge grasped the furry nap tight in his fist. “No, Tinker. You won’t be able to walk in the snow with your condition.”
Pulling the covering from Tinker’s back, Edge stopped tugging as Tinker began to bang his foot repeatedly into the floor. He looked into the eyes of the young man, clearly angry about the inability that Edge had spoken of with his expression crinkling and his chin beginning to tremble. As a single tear traced down Tinker’s cheek, Edge again grasped the tops of each of Tinker’s arms, dropping the furs to the floor.
“Tinker, stop. “ As if on command, Tinker stopped the pounding of his foot upon the metal flooring, looking up into Edge’s eyes between the erratic convulsions of his torso. “Tinker, you can’t help what happened to you,” Edge said, attempting to calm the upset young man. As his words were spoken, his own troubles surfaced once more as a reminder that he too was damaged. In the moment it took for realization to explode within his head that his words of compassion could fit his own situation like a puzzle piece neatly tucked into its correct spot, Edge’s mouth fell slightly agape. “Neither can I,” he uttered softly, though what was but a simple statement seemed to have taken the overpowering remorse within it, and placed the needed bandage atop it. Dropping his hands from Tinker’s arms, he momentarily allowed himself to drift into his own thoughts, suddenly overwhelmed with an understanding that whatever it was that had happened to him in the past, there was nothing he could do to change it, and he was ready to accept that he could no longer let it define who he was at the moment. “Tinker. I’ll bring the prince back,” he said, reaching down to grasp the furry covering from the floor. “I want you to go to David. Tell him where I’ve gone.”
“I h-h-h-h-help-p-p y-y-you.”
Throwing the wrap around his shoulders over his coat while beginning to pull the front together over his chest, he shook his head. “You already have helped me, Tinker. More than you know.” Fastening the large hook that was at the neckline, he was prepared for what he was about to do. “Now what I need you to do is go tell David. I may need his help too.” With a glance up towards the second level as if he could see the infirmary which was located at the opposite end of the ship, he shook his head. “If you can get him out of bed.”
Turning towards the hatchway, Edge spied the panel at the left side of the doorway that he had seen used when Tyrsa kicked Kayle off the ship. With another shake of the head, doubtful of whether or not he was using good judgment, he pressed his palm into the rectangular protrusion that he believed to be the main control. Without hesitation, the doorway opened bringing inside a forceful gust of frigid air with icy snow particles dancing upon the wind. Pulling the front of the furs tighter around him, he turned back inwards to ensure Tinker was on his way to the infirmary. Instead, he found the strange and small man backed against the ladder with the glassy look within his eyes that he had seen when Tinker was spouting nonsense the first time he saw him after the prince was pulled aboard. His body was no longer jerking erratically, but instead was eerily still as he stared forward at Edge, seemingly dazed.
“You’re in the shade,” Tinker said without the slightest evidence of a stutter. “You’re both in the
The strange nuances about Tinker’s condition were impacting Edge more and more each time he witnessed the stutters and the young man’s attempts at forcing the words to completion, but the moments when the stutter faded, the movement ceased, the eyes grew stark and the words became senseless were the times that left him chilled in the realization that the damage was the result of something that was also done to him. Though the time he had spent with the unusual Tinker was short, the hopelessness that was evident drew him in to wanting to help in any way that he could. As if Tinker was medicine to his own problems, the overshadowing misery within him drifted further into the darkness that was his shadowy memories. “Tinker!” he shouted, immediately crossing the entryway to where Tinker stood. Grasping the top of each of the young man’s arms once more, he administered an abrupt shake. “Tinker.”
Tinker’s eyes returned to focus for an instant before the erratic convulsing at the waist began again.
“You faded away,” Edge spoke softly, saddened that returning Tinker to a more conscious state also returned the stutter and the constant jerking of his small and seemingly frail body.
“F-f-f-f-f-f-f-fade”
Edge could see the convulsive jerks were also forming into a shiver as he continued to hold Tinker’s arms. It was cold with the ships hatch open and frigid gusts blowing into the landing. “It’s cold. Go get David. I’ll get the prince. I promise.”
His teeth beginning to chatter, Tinker nodded between dual quivers. As Edge released him and backed away, his newfound friend turned to the ladder, slammed his shoulder against the rung closest to him apparently to hold his rapid movement somewhat at bay while he climbed, and stepped up onto the ladder.
Edge turned away to face the open doorway where swirls of snow were blowing in like white plumes on the strong breeze. Stepping forward, he grabbed the piece of fur that hung from the neck of the covering presuming that it was there to be wrapped like a scarf. With a quick thrust, it rounded his shoulders while he pulled the front of the wrap tight over the long brown coat. It was cold outside, but as a man questioning life, he was accepting that he had no reason not to risk it to help an alien prince who for some reason, a damaged human was concerned about.
#
Though it seemed a fierce snowstorm that was whipping Edge’s face with the chilling pain of frosty cold air, he imagined while remembering the landing on the icy planet Lacroveria that the weather he was struggling against was simply the norm. The wind was a challenge that caused him to lean forward into the hefty gusts that were likely even stronger coming up over the precipice that he knew was just ahead. Now and then, he caught sight of disturbed snow protected from the wind by an icy crag that signaled that he was travelling in the right direction. Looking forward between gusts, he had seen nothing but a field of white until at last a gray and brown spot amidst the ivory landscape appeared to
Continuing on battling the wind, he lessened the distance between he and the creature that he hoped was Progue. As he came close enough for recognition, he could see the long gray locks that hung from the prince’s head swaying in the breeze. He could also see that the prince was near to the edge of the mighty precipice that he had seen when they were landing, looking downwards.
“Progue!” he shouted into the oncoming wind while continuing to push forward. “Progue!”
At last hearing his voice, he saw the prince slowly turn his head to look behind. Edge continued to approach until he came to be just short of where the prince stood, the alien wrapped loosely in a similar fur covering with his pale blue face expressionless beneath his high forehead. This was the closest Edge had stood to Prince Progue and he immediately noticed the similarities that this creature had to his sister Tinsia. Even their honey-colored eyes appeared nearly identical.
“Ahh,” the prince said blankly. His eyes truly displayed his sadness as he spoke. “My savior.” With a slight bow, the crown of long gray hair whipped across his face. “I never thanked you for rescuing me from that odious ship. That was rude of me. My apologies.”
“None necessary.” Edge stepped slightly closer looking up into the prince’s eyes. The prince was taller than him by at least two feet, and even with the differences in his alien appearance, as if Edge had suddenly become empathic, he could feel the despondency from expressions that were easily understandable. Reaching a hand slowly forward, he watched the prince take a step back closer to the edge of the precipice. Progue was clearly ready to jump and was not interested in being talked out of a firm decision. “They call me Edge,” Edge said, unsure of what he could possibly say to save the life of another despondent soul, but ready to say whatever came to mind; ready to at least try. “I don’t remember my real name.”
“An interesting name.” Progue appeared uninterested in continuing the conversation as he turned back towards the precipice, looking down into it once more. He glanced back however. “Saved by one Edge and I give my life to another. Why are you here?”
Edge stepped forward cautiously once more to stand beside Progue rather than behind. As he caught the first full glimpse of the edge of the precipice that he now stood upon with the wind gusting more furiously up from the cavernous depths and over the side, he felt a shudder at how the profound drop off the icy cliff was barely more than a step away from him. Instinctively, he dug the toe of his boot into the snowy blanket until he felt the solid ice beneath. Glancing back up, he looked to his side. “I was abducted by the Tsri-Volpa not long ago,” he said, still unsure of what direction in words he should take. “Tyrsa found me at the scub market and helped me to escape before I was sold.”
“I’m sorry,” the prince replied with barely a glance towards Edge. His focus continued to be on the depths off the precipice. “No creature should be enslaved. Not even creatures as vile as the Tsri-Volpa themselves.”
“Well, I guess things don’t always go the way we hope, right. What’s strange is that though they
Progue turned to face Edge, seeming to be impacted by the words, though his face continued to show his sadness. “What you are trying to do is thoughtful, human. I am nothing to you, but you have come to the cold precipice to try to convince me not to do as you say; give up. I have already given up, and you know nothing of my troubles.”
The wind whipped icy particles into Edge’s face in a strong gusty billow that stung his cheeks. “You’re right” he responded, ignoring the pain that came with the cold wind. “I don’t know what’s happened to you. I’m new here. But I’m interested. Tell me of your troubles.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
Edge released a huff that expelled gray mist from his lips as he glanced out over the precipice. “I have nothing else going on. At this point,” he said, looking back into the prince’s cool eyes. “I’m not even sure what I should be doing with myself. But I can’t just sit on a ship any longer waiting for something.”
“You know nothing, human,” the prince replied angrily, seemingly agitated as he reached out and pushed upon Edge’s shoulder. “Nothing of the responsibilities of the first born to King of the Five Systems. How heavy the crown is, how difficult it is to become the prince he wanted so that I could be the king he imagined. How much the beckoning call of life can be snuffed by the duty of lineage. So many believe the royal blood is a privileged blood. In truth the duty chains you.”
Edge’s eyes widened as he took in the meaning of the words the prince spoke, while the prince’s expression seemed to drift further into sorrow. “You didn’t want to be king,” he said, as if in the midst of the discovery of a deep dark secret.
Progue looked away, once again out over the precipice, though his glance seemed more of shame than of sadness. “No,” he responded softly before looking back. “Not once did I feel the pride that my father saw in my eyes. On the surface, I was what he wanted. Deep inside, I was a failure.”
Edge reached forward, his heart beginning to understand, to feel the prince’s pain. “Wanting more for yourself does not make you a failure.”
Progue pulled away with a quick jolt of his tall body. “No, not unless you do something that is worthy of failure. My father is dead, his sovereignty has been taken by the Voctari. The Five Systems is overrun with criminality. It has become a savage place run by a wicked Voctaran queen. It is all as it is because of what I did. I did not want the weight of the crown on my head, but now I hold the heavier weight of guilt upon my shoulders. I neither deserve a life, nor do I want one.”
For the first time since he stepped out upon the icy landscape of Lacroveria, Edge understood the prince’s pain. “I’m so sorry.”
With the wind continuing to whip the long gray locks around the chiseled cheek bones of Prince Progue, he looked onwards and continued. “So now you are on the edge of the precipice with me. Turn and walk back if you have chosen to continue with the pain of your memories, or step off the edge at the side of a failure. It is your choice.”
Edge gazed deep into the soft honey-colored eyes of Prince Progue, feeling and understanding his pain, yet ready to take a step for himself and to stand for a decision he had made, though he didn’t completely understand it. “I told you I had changed my mind. Do you want to know why?”
“Is there a reason I should?”
“Let me ask you,” Edge said, stepping slightly closer as he felt comfort building between the two of them. They were similar creatures. Again he realized that alien or not, many of whom he was meeting in the vast reaches of space were so similar to the human being he was. “I know you met Tinker.”
The prince nodded. “Yes.”
“Tinker didn’t ask for what happened to him. He had no control, nor did I. But what happened to him is much worse than what happened to me. Just in the way that he pushes himself through his damage, through his disabilities, he is a small and what at first glance looks insignificant being, but in truth he’s braver than I am. Tinker is one of the bravest souls I’ve ever met.”
“He is a benevolent creature despite his flaws,” Prince Progue responded. “He listened while I told him my troubles. He is the only other one that knows what I have told you. I did not fear telling him because I knew he could not repeat my story. I should be ashamed of that.”
Further realization hit like pieces of a puzzle fitting neatly into place. “That’s why he wanted me to come after you,” Edge said glancing away for a moment.
“The small creature sent you?”
Looking back, Edge replied. “He begged me to help you. He was determined to come himself, but I knew he couldn’t make it with his jitters. I didn’t completely understand at first.” As he spoke, his lips gaping open despite the intolerable cold, he remembered his conversation with David earlier about the overthrowing of the prince’s family. Strangely, the remembrance added further curiosity as to why Tinker would care so greatly for the prince. “Scub abductions didn’t happen before you were overthrown”
Prince Progue looked away once more, his hair swirling harshly around his face. “What has happened to you and to your friend Tinker are also my fault. Human’s being turned into scubs. None of this happened under my father’s reign.”
“Stop blaming yourself, Progue,” Edge replied sharply. Though the understanding that his own
“What are you saying?” Progue interjected adamantly, his legs spreading in the first show of force that Edge had witnessed yet. Suddenly, the despondency seemed to shift. “Are you telling me Inari are being sold as scubs?”
Edge’s mouth widened as he stepped back a bit, not expecting the reaction he had received. “If Inari is what you are, I saw some on the ship that abducted me, and in the scub market. Like you. Blueish skin with gray hair.” Perhaps, he thought, those words alone were the turning point to the conversation; the moment he needed to strengthen Prince Progue. “Progue, this has to end. You know that. What will jumping off this cliff do to help? I don’t want to continue. I didn’t ask for this. And I’m not sure what I can do to help. But as long as someone like Tinker has the strength to accept what has happened to him, and continue struggling, shouldn’t I. Shouldn’t we?”
Progues’ eyes softened again, though the sadness did not re-appear. “My father once told me that with strength of character, all other qualities needed to be king will fall into place. I thought I was being strong going behind his back to satisfy my curiosities. Delving into the Farakah, trusting people that I should not have trusted.”
Unsure of the words, Edge did not pursue the curiosity that immediately surfaced within him as to what Farakah meant, but instead chose to take advantage of what seemed a change in the emotions of the creature before him. “We both have a lot to learn about strength. But if we are both dealing with the miseries of our past, perhaps together we can overcome them. Help each other find the strength to end what’s happening here in the Five Systems.” As the gusts continued to whip the lengthy gray hair across Progue’s face, Edge suddenly felt the truth of his own words continuing the strange day of revelations as they called to him with purpose while continuing to push the remorse that had been controlling him since his abduction further into shadowy memory. “Maybe we can help each other. We’re both lost souls that need a reason to move on. Both our people are being persecuted right now. It doesn’t matter how it happened. Only that someone stands up to try to stop it.”
Progue looked out beyond the precipice, gazing for a moment while reaching up to pull his gray-blue strands away from his eyes. “Perhaps you speak truth, my Earth friend,” he said as if speaking to the vast crater before turning back to face Edge. “I wouldn’t know where to begin, though.”
For the first time since he chose to step out of the safety of the ship in an attempt to save an individual he knew so little about, Edge saw a glimmer in the honey-toned eyes of another newfound friend. It was a glimmer that seemed hopeful, even though it wallowed in uncertainty. Certainty, however, was just a minor barrier when hope forms. Perhaps, he thought, he was also feeling that glimmer in his own eyes. Pulling the fur-lined collar closer together as the wind increased, he stepped a little closer to the prince. “This is the beginning. Two people making a decision. Where we go from
As Prince Progue for the first time also reached a hand forward, Edge felt pressure wrap around his shoulders; tight steel clamping down. Lurching forward, he felt the force of something large striking his back, something that was attached to two large spikes that continued to curl over his shoulders rapidly tightening.
“Tsri-Volpa!” The Prince screamed glancing over Edge’s shoulder with sudden widening eyes.
Falling forward with the force of what had struck his back, the prince reached out to help him. But before landing within the prince’s arms, he felt his body swiftly jerk backwards. Without control, Edge sailed out over the precipice and became airborne. His heart suddenly racing with terror that swelled beyond that moment of abduction, beyond that moment that a blade plunged into his stomach, he gazed out at the prince on the icy cliff who was swiftly growing distant and fuzzy from the flurries. Without warning, Edge felt electricity surging through his body which seized with the agony of voltage flowing in from the metal fingers that held their piercingly strong grip upon him. The surging pain was excruciating causing his eyes to widen while his mouth opened for the release of a scream.
And then there was darkness.