River’s End ch 6: How a Real Man Handles a Crisis

Picture a moon snuggled within a planet’s wispy atmosphere and clothed in phosphorous fungi. Below, molten gorges weave webs beneath the oceans, and while their default glow is faint green, when the moon draws near, they blaze white.

This was the light cycle of the planet Grenswa and its largest satellite, Harta.

It didn’t sound like it would be so very bright or warm, but it was enough to evoke instant squint and sweat from me.

“Did we come here to stand and gawk at this place, or are we going to try to find Grenswa’s protective entities?” Fredo deadpanned.

We hid behind a bush near Bongii’s landing pad, and I had been a little distracted by the newness of this world. True, the things I ogled were all ancient constants I had read about many times: the sky being the pale color of a cucumber’s innards, foliage filled with chlorophyll painting each leaf a deep green, humidity levels at upwards of ninety percent and steam wafting from the ground. But now I could see them, experience them for myself.

We were also a lot lighter here than on Seallaii, and walking felt like swimming. It took some getting used to.

“These flowers, Fredo!” With a gasp, I cupped a spidery white blossom streaked with vibrant yellow. “Have you ever seen anything more cheerful? They’re called lalakrii, and I’m told they taste as sweet as they smell. Their nectar gives the illusion it’s cold and will inebriate Grenswa-nas. They can’t have actual alcohol, you know. Even alcohol splashed on their skin can prove lethal.”

Fredo gave me a smile sewn of faux patience. “I’m sure the Grenswa-nas will give you whatever drunken bouquet you want once you save their world. We should get on with the saving their world part.”

“Sorry, I’m just trying to soak it all in.” I giggled, grin sliced from ear to ear. “This place is so…”

“Different?”

“No, well, yes, but I was going to say unique.”

A far cry from Menyaza and its surroundings.

I removed my shoes and scarf, tucking the items safely in my satchel. I felt so free. Also, underdressed.

Fredo’s smile frayed, and he shook his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Unique or not, we have to abandon this hospitable bush before someone spots us and thinks we’re suspicious.”

“We are in the middle of a shipyard crawling with people. How do you suggest we get out without being noticed, oh Wise Master of Sneaking Around?”

His brows hopped. “Did you dress me up like this for nothing?”

“The disguise will work.” A grimace pulled at my lower lip. “Surrounded by Seallaii-na ships, though, anything that makes us stand out is more noticeable.”

“Right.” He sighed. “Follow me and try to stay quiet.”

Grip firm on my wrist, he towed me under a ship larger than Bongii’s. Beyond this one was another, even more massive. The shipyard was a maze of flowered hedges and towering transports, traffic racing to and fro.

Fredo slinked alongside this largest ship, as silent as if he touched nothing. Reaching the aft, he paused, peered around the edge, waited a beat, then gripped my arm even tighter and sprinted across an open aisle to duck beside a stout freighter.

We continued in like manner past several Seallaii-na vehicles, moving faster the further we ventured. I concentrated on not bounding too high with each step. With his masterful coordination, Fredo had little trouble adjusting.

He stopped, and I ran into him, eyes darting to every crack in the path. “What is it?”

“Stay right here, Rosa.” He released me as we reached the shadow of a ridge-striped ship. The columns were each a body’s length apart, and he wedged himself between them, arms spread, legs not quite in a full split as he shimmied up the hull.

“What are you doing?” I hissed. “Fancy a trip back to Seallaii on the outside of a ship?”

“Trust me.”

“Always, but—”

Like an epiphany, his intention struck me. He was scouting, and a scout’s purpose in venturing up was to better survey the lay of the land.

I pursed my lips, cowed by my slowness and not content to sit here idle and useless.

Scanning our surroundings, I spotted a repairman perched on the ship’s summit, only one ridge to the right of Fredo’s. He hadn’t noticed my comrade yet, but if he saw Fredo before Fredo saw him…

“Fredo!”

He was too far to hear me. Any louder, and the repairman would also hear.

Fredo! I thought at him, but I didn’t know how to speak to him in my mind any more than I knew how to shoot lightning from my eyes or lasers from my fingertips.

He didn’t seem to hear this either.

As fear soured in my gut, my eyes raked our surroundings for anything that could call his attention.

A rock!

I snatched a large piece of gravel and threw it at Fredo. It struck his back as I had aimed, and he caught it before it could bounce noisily onto the metal hull.

He tossed an annoyed look over his shoulder. ‘What?’

How did he know how to mind-speak so well?

There’s a guy over there. I gestured wildly at the repairman.

‘You want me to move over a ridge?’

No! I waved my arms like a flustered talent coach, and a chuckle cracked his confused expression.

‘I know he’s there, Rosa. You’re hilarious, though. Thanks for the pebble.’

Hidden in the valley between ridges, Fredo performed his survey, then lobbed the stone. It landed behind the repairman with a clang. He shot to his feet and looked in the opposite direction as Fredo slid down the ship’s side and returned to me.

“Unfortunately, we need to go that way,” he whispered, pointing eighty degrees to the left of where the repairman looked.

“Why is that unfortunate?”

“It’s the most crowded area I’ve seen so far.”

“So, we need to distract them.” I bit my lip as I thought. Now that I knew they were there, all the people we needed to sidetrack chorused in my ears like a busy hive.

“What’s all the ruckus?” someone hollered at the repairman.

“Don’t ask me. You nincompoops need to be more careful.”

The plan came to me. Careful was what the nincompoops would become the opposite of, with a little help.

I extended my hand expectantly. “Fredo, give me your pistol.”

“No.”

I huffed, more at his lack of hesitation than the refusal. “If we shoot out the bottoms of the boxes, their cargo will fall out.”

“And that shipman will be furious,” he caught on.

“Right, then we knock him off the roof with a rock.” I smirked. “Genius distraction?”

“It’ll work, but you’re not shooting anything.”

Lying flat, Fredo elbow-crawled under the ship. His pistol was of River Guardian design, no larger than my hand and L-shaped, with a thin barrel and wider, ambidextrously ergonomic handle. The trigger was on the back, toggled by a thumb. It made its own ammunition, bullets conceived from studies of the ethereal Lorsknu and formed of light, air, and power. As long as the pistol had charge, it could fire as many times as desired.

Its report sounded like an exhale as Fredo discharged round after round. With one hit per box, cargo soon fell like rain.

“What are you doing?” the shipman shouted. “Why am I asking you? You obviously don’t know. Get away from my stuff!”

As he screamed and hopped around, I snuck up the ship’s side, gravel tucked in my hood and frenzied insects crashing the party of nerves in my gut. I kept seeing him turn and call me out, but he didn’t.

I dumped the gravel under him. He lost his balance and tumbled down the less-steep side of the ship, yelling the whole way. A lot more than his pinky toe touched their land, so he had that to brag about now.

While workers put down their burdens and gathered around where he landed, Fredo and I snuck by, grabbing boxes to further our disguise.

“Get back to your jobs, you idiots. I’m fine!”

“Your crates’re defective.”

I paused, stunned by the Grenswa-na accent. They really did slur everything together.

“Child, bring me my wrench, and I will show you how a real man handles a crisis!”

Fredo and I had almost reached the shadow of the next ship, but to our dismay, the shipman pointed us out.

“Look at them, still loyally doing their jobs. You should take a lesson from that well-built pair.”

“Hey!” a teen standing closest to us shrieked. “Y’all’ren’t loaders!”

My panicked gaze slid to Fredo. He dropped his box and pushed me ahead of him, breaking into a run.

“Come back here!” someone called.

The cacophony of shattered glass echoed as more boxes were abandoned and the crowd pursued us. Several drew slingshots off their belts and ammo from a plethora of pockets. The latter looked like berry-sized balls of yarn, if that yarn had been spun of lightning. They rained around us with the sound of sizzling explosions.

I pulled my hood up over my pale red hair, hoping the fabric’s velvety gray would be better camouflage. The wind tugged at its folds, breeze scented with the sweet, intoxicating smell of the hedge flowers.

It was too hot and humid to be running for our lives.

We came to a dead end where a crane vehicle blocked our escape. Fredo pushed me behind him as a translucent red shield extended from his bracelet. The barrier was nearly as tall as him, but the lack of a second emitter rendered it as a very narrow rhombus. The lightning spheres hissed and snapped as they hit it, absorbed into the shield, and my hair stood on end.

Two soft exhales sounded, and my eyes flew to the pistol in Fredo’s left hand. Two Grenswa-nas dropped.

“Stop!” I pushed down his arm. “We are all civilized. Let’s handle this in a manner which befits rational people.”

“Foreigners’ren’t welcome here,” the first man declared, eyes slender and sharp with distrust. The onyx scales on his ears glistened.

I clung to my last shard of calm and forced it into my voice. “We are diplomatic representatives, honorably here to—”

“Why’d honored representatives travel in a freighter?” an old man called.

“Good question,” Fredo muttered. Not helping.

I raised my hands. “This is important. We need to see your authorities.”

“Authorities?” bellowed the same, rugged elder. “My haillet’s all the authority I need.” Movements like water, he snatched a sling from his waistband and flung another lightning sphere at us.

He was trying to kill us. His motions were violent and, well, horrifying, but still somehow beautiful. Grenswa-nas had such natural rhythm.

The haillet vanished against our shield, and the crowd rushed us.

“Get going, Rosa. I’m right behind you.”

Fredo’s shield assimilated a dozen more haillets as I dropped and rolled under the crane. He kept close, not allowing anyone to slip between us. Following, the crowd swarmed both under and over the machine.

Still not accustomed to the weak gravity, I stumbled as I got to my feet, but Fredo’s right arm caught my shoulders and pushed me onward. His left hand stretched behind us to fire off a few threatening shots.

“Don’t shoot at them, Fredo. They’re not our enemies.”

“They were shooting first.”

“A child’s excuse.” I tried to elbow him but missed.

He pushed me faster. “On Seallaii, we are children.”

“We’re not on Seallaii.”

“Exactly.”

I frowned as fat raindrops pelted my face. One, two, three—fair warning before the sky broke loose in a downpour.

We wove through the maze, yet the rain and rising steam made it difficult to see far even when the path was straight. I led, but I barely knew which way to go. I hadn’t been the one to spy the layout of this place, but Fredo gave me silent cues as we ran. At this speed, it was not easy to maintain a semblance of a normal gait. I ran more up and down than forward.

Pain stabbed through my left thigh as if a burning torch impaled it. I stumbled, hands flying to the injury, but there was no wound.

Fredo, then. Is this his pain?

I had no time to dwell on that. The land growled like an empty belly demanding breakfast. Metal rails shook beneath my feet, and I leapt back as a sleek train zipped along them.

Fredo was at my side, arm around my waist and other hand extended toward the train to catch a lever near one of the many doors. As it whisked us along, he kicked out one of the windows, and I swung through to land amidst a hundred stares.

Fredo followed. “What? We’re in a hurry, and we missed the train.”

Plausible, I supposed, but no one stopped staring.

One open seat remained, padded with a cobalt cushion. I sidled up to Fredo, who clung to one of the evenly-spaced poles provided for standing passengers.

“Sit down, Fredo. You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.” He clenched his jaw, again chewing on the inside of his cheek. Despite gripping the pole hard enough to dent it, his hands shook.

We were both soaked, but purple Seallaii-na blood tinted the rain dripping from Fredo. The pool beneath him grew darker, and my thigh twinged again.

“If you’re fine, why were you limping?”

“I like limping. It adds excitement.”

“Would you just sit down and stop—”

A small girl tugged at the light turquoise fabric of my long shirt.

“Yes?”

“You’re pretty.” She beamed as if she had won some contest, and she had the most spectacular eyes, green like the sky but a dozen shades more brilliant.

I had never seen green eyes as such were not natural for a Seallaii-na, but beyond even their remarkable color, her eyes glittered. If I were looking for impostors, that would be my first tell. My eyes did not glitter like that. Not even Fredo’s did.

“Thank you.” With a sweet smile, I bent to her height. I had never before spoken to a child younger than me, and self-consciousness softened my voice. She was incredibly tiny and delicate. “Right now, I’m trying to convince my friend he’s being ridiculous, so if you could—”

“He scares me.”

Fredo rolled his eyes, and terror streaked the girl’s face.

“Do you have a problem?” He feigned a step in her direction.

Shrieking, she ran away.

This only intensified the staring.

“You like making little girls scream, don’t you?” I hissed, leaning against Fredo in hopes of taking some of his weight. My leg really hurt, and it wasn’t even my wound.

“Sometimes making little girls scream is the only highlight of my day.” He attempted a light grin.

As if calling his bluff, the train screeched to a halt, sending passengers flying. For once, Fredo did not catch me. As the scene stilled, we were both sprawled on the floor, tangled with a dozen others. At least the commotion redirected the stares.

Babies cried, adults griped, and an insane burst of laughter cut above the murmurs before the intercom reported, “Illegal aliens’ve fled in this area, and this train’ll be searched. Have your identification and tickets ready. Be prepared to have your luggage opened. Remember, the peace officers’re here to keep you safe, so cooperate.”

I met Fredo’s gaze, dread in my stomach like a paperweight. Men uniformed in deep teal, wide-legged pants, high-collared, netted jackets, and front-brimmed hats were at the front of the train car, scouring everyone with harsh glares, but there were a lot of displaced people between them and me.

I scrambled to my feet and headed toward the back of the car. Did it connect to the next one in line? It appeared like it might, and if peace officers had started their search at the front of that compartment also, maybe we could slip in behind them and remain overlooked.

Fredo fell in step behind me, another twinge in my leg a warning as he collapsed.

A peace officer noticed our movement, eyes falling to Fredo’s conspicuous blood trail. His already serious expression darkened in recognition, and his umber, glittering gaze rose to meet mine. Shoving other passengers aside, he started toward us.

Fredo struggled to rise. With a panicked gasp, I plucked his hand from an empty seat and ran, dragging my guard.

“This is humiliating.” Fredo grabbed one of the poles and righted himself, but it was too late. The short and agile peace officers had caught up.

“Mind if I sit here? Thanks.” Fredo nearly plopped down on a seated passenger, who scooted away, looking offended.

“We need to see your identification.” The peace officer standing before Fredo had piercing hematite eyes to match his scales and shaggy hair. It gave him a shadowy appearance, especially with as gracefully as he moved.

I tried to swallow past my heart in my throat. “I’m sorry, peaceable ones, but we forgot our identification at home.”

“How conveniently careless of you.” He didn’t look at me. Fredo stared back at him in silence.

I edged closer. “Forgive us, please, and don’t waste your time. We wouldn’t want to hinder you in catching whomever you’re after.”

I wanted to yell, ‘Go away!’ unscrew one of the poles, and knock them off the train with it, but wisdom whispered that would lead nowhere good.

They ignored me anyway.

“You appear injured.” Officer Serious produced a strip of cloth from his pocket and knelt to better inspect Fredo’s injury. His two companions flanked him like a pack of predators.

Fredo flinched as the cloth looped over his wound. My own leg threatened to buckle.

“Tell me how you’re so badly hurt.”

“I don’t remember,” Fredo mumbled. Wrong thing to say. Grenswa-nas had eidetic memories; they remembered everything they noticed.

“You don’t recall gettin’ shot in the leg?” Officer Serious pulled the strip tight, and Fredo’s face contorted in pain, evoking a cry from me.

“Ah! Leave my brother alone!”

Though differently colored, we could have passed for siblings. Pink was not an official race of Grenswa, and some with this hue were born to Ruby or Amethyst families.

“There’ren’t any Amethyst cities near here. What brings an Amethyst pair to Tils?”

Fredo squeezed the edge of his seat, knuckles bleached around his painted scales. “We came to look at the aliens. My sister’s obsessed with them.”

“See any?”

“Nope.”

The officer pulled the bandage tight again, and Fredo jerked his leg away, eyes closed. He was a second from either passing out or attacking them, and I was tired of being ignored.

“I told you to leave him alone!” Barging between them, I shoved Officer Serious.

A lot lighter than I thought he would be, he flew and alighted in a crouch on a narrow armrest. His long, slender tail flicked like an annoyed feline’s, and the light glaring off the windows rendered an odd translucency to his skin. Was he of the Onyx or Hematite race? Either had black scales, and this was an Onyx city, but a land-dwelling Onyx should have had more opaque skin. Such as the officer who crowded in my face.

“Apologize and step aside.” He was the largest of their group, but I was still a smidgen taller and quite a bit more solid.

“Think you can make me?” I strode forward, forcing him back one step, two, three.

“It’s a serious offense to refuse to cooperate with peace officers.” He reached for a weapon at his belt as his back hit the door.

“Really?” I jabbed the open button on the frame. With a hiss, the door split in two and slid aside. I shoved the peace officer off the train, and his landing was nowhere near as graceful as that of Officer Serious.

A thud sounded, and I whirled to find Serious had leapt at me but Fredo had knocked him out of the air. The third officer was already unconscious. Or at least, I hoped Fredo hadn’t killed him.

“Go!” He pushed me ahead of him.

More peace officers took up the chase as we charged off the train into the labyrinth of luggage waiting to be searched. As if I could have fit more than an elbow within any of the handbags piled by the door.

Rain still poured, and rumbling thunder echoed my heartbeat. The growing twinge in my leg told me Fredo wouldn’t be able to run far.

As I glanced back, Officer Serious led our pursuers. Fredo yanked me aside, and we tumbled over a tall stack of crates. We wove and dove. Then he threw me behind a pile of elaborate trunks.

“Stay there, Rosa. I’ll lead them away, then circle back for you.”

“But Fredo…”

He was already gone, lost to my sight through the wall of rain.

Putting on my obedient face, I ducked low behind the chests, soaked, scared, and miserable. All I heard was chaos. The scene blinked out a few times, replaced by the view through Fredo’s eyes. Was he surrounded?

As worried as I was, I had to push that away. If I lost myself in Fredo’s mind, no longer able to detect my own surroundings, then I would be an easy catch.

Yet, I couldn’t abandon Fredo, surrounded and alone.

I crouched along rows of boxes and bags, following my proprioception of my mykta. That and the loudest shouting.

I was nearly there when another flash came. He fought. The Grenswa-nas were fragile but nimble, and there were so many.

‘No, Rosa, get out of here!’

I didn’t know if he meant for me to get out of his mind or the area, but I would not abandon him.

Pain tore through my head like it had through my leg, only so much worse. A raw scream ripped from me as I fell limp on the puddle–ridden gravel.

“We got him!” someone shouted as another called, “That scream came from this way!”

Splashing footsteps raced in my direction, but I couldn’t move.

Continued in chapter 7: Pay Any Price

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