CHAPTER SEVEN

  Soran loathed the foul stench of Vanta cigars. Lanic was a heavy smoker, and Blastons was his brand. From the inception of his apprenticeship, Soran observed all the tricks Lanic had pioneered over his distinguished career, returning to his bunk each evening stinking of fumes and brimming with knowledge. Other kids were eager to mention it whenever he passed, but he didn't mind. Each second spent with his mentor was worth every smoke-stack comment thrown his way. Even now, the pungent aroma lay heavy on his skin and clothing, thick and earthy like forest dirt. It was unmistakable and made the boy smile as he remembered the good times, just sitting and watching.

  Soran's eyes flickered open, assaulted by a flood of sharp light from two overhead lamps. He inhaled a lung full of smoke from the foggy maelstrom surrounding him and broke into a coughing fit. His vision gradually cleared, revealing a shrouded man slumped back in a battered chair. He sucked a thick plume of smoke from the unmistakable hexagonal shaft of a Vanta Cigar.

  “Lanic?” the boy murmured. He attempted to reach out only to make an unfortunate discovery. Bound by the wrists and ankles, his restraints pinched at his skin.

  "Afraid you're quite mistaken." Replied the man. He spoke in a stern tone that the boy vaguely recognized.

  A grizzled face breached the veil of shadow. Light reflected off the smooth surface of his shaven head, accentuating the deep lacerations that spanned the circumference of his skull. Of an advanced vintage, the man's beard was peppered with strands of white and segmented by three thick scars. They scored the left side of his crater-speckled face like trails on a weathered map, running down his neck until obscured by the raised collar of a jacket that looked as old as him. Luminous flecks in the lenses of his jet-black eyes glistened like the galaxy's spiral arms, and the boy found himself the unwilling victim to their hypnotic effect. He pulled back in apprehension.

  "See anything you like?" the man growled.

  "Where am I?" Soran asked in a cracked voice that betrayed his adolescence. Blurred strands of the event that had landed him here began to weave together. After a few moments, they had formed into a vaguely coherent picture. From the steady hum of an engine and the odor of spent Shimmersene, he was obviously inside a ship. She was a reasonably spacious vessel cramped with junk and long abandoned maintenance projects. Cables hung from every wall, and tools lay strewn around exposed hatches. Before he could receive his answer, his surroundings jolted, striking him with panic. He retreated in an awkward shuffle, cowering up against the paneled wall in the corner. His captor's raspy laugh startled him. The man approached Soran, extinguishing his expended cigar on the metal-plated sleeve of his jacket.

  "You did Malig, right?" He asked. An inquisitive eyebrow raised, expressing the doubt his tone lacked.

  "What?" Replied Soran. Divulging anything at this stage of interrogation was, at the very least, unwise. He couldn't risk his captors being pirates and admit to the act of unthinkable heresy.

  "One Soran Valek of the Hyacinth just claimed the bounty on Ravias Malig. That's you, correct?" The man said in a slow drawl, enunciating each word with patronizing emphasis. Soran chose to omit the apparent lie in favor of a timorous nod, attempting to maintain the air of danger his newfound reputation awarded.

  "I told you it was him, El. When am I ever wrong?" He said, shouting over to the cockpit. The woman from before emerged from a circular hatch. As she approached, each coiled lock of her hair seemed to possess a will of its own, rippling in constant motion like ocean waves. She knelt to examine his worried face. He, however, was mesmerized by her nearly translucent skin, variegated islands oscillating over its surface. She glowed a pale blue, the hue matching that of her large, piercing eyes. She smiled and poked him on the nose.

  "We went to a lot of trouble coming to get you. Once we heard you took down mean old Malig, well, we knew we had to have you." Her soothing voice was like silk compared to the gristle churned out by her colleague. She eyed the man expectantly, gesturing for him to speak.

  "Sorry for the theatrics, kid; I had to make sure you were our guy. I'm Ranna, and this is El. The magnificent beast you currently find yourself in is the one and only Horizon. She's not much, but she's ours." Ranna said proudly, his demeanor changing drastically. Despite the smile, he appeared no less intimidating; His previous hound-like grimace would leave a lasting impression on the boy.

  "Tugg, come say hi," Ranna shouted through a bedraggled curtain leading to a back room. They endured only a moment of silence before a boisterous thud shook the ship. More followed it. Footsteps, footsteps that belonged to something big. The smoke-stained drapes burst open. A giant arm reached out, grabbing at the steel plating. Trunk-sized fingers pulled an enormous head through the doorway. It was that thing. The creature that had kidnapped Soran had returned. The boy attempted to scuttle back but discovered no avenue of retreat. Four giant white eyes locked onto him, and a mouth of razor-sharp teeth revealed themselves in a nightmarish grin. Its jacket was identical to Ranna's, and its tattered pants nestled into the most immense pair of boots Soran had ever seen.

  "Relax, kid. I know he's lacking in the looks department, but Tugg heres' just a giant puppy." Ranna said, slapping the alien's colossal arm. Soran had seen beings like him only once before. Tugg was an Accran, a race of mostly ocean-dwelling aliens. They closely resembled sharks, whales, and other forms of old-Earth marine life — their massive bodies maintained by the nearly limitless food supply in the vast ocean of their home world. Soran remembered that they were monotheistic, worshiping an ancient sea deity and often labeled as a fanatical cult. Due to their biological inability to speak, the Navy had labeled them as a restricted species, a classification most in the galaxy observed enthusiastically.

  Despite dwarfing everyone on the Horizon, Tugg was fairly small for an Accra. The lofty breathing apparatus that smothered his gills added bulk to an already imposing silhouette. Despite Ranna's reassurance, Soran was hesitant to let his guard down, his interactions with Tugg so far being less than pleasant.

  "Let's get you untied," Ranna said, tapping Tugg on the arm. Bounding over to the still traumatized Soran, Tugg hunched over and cut Soran's bindings with a large knife he unsheathed from his waist. It was his first up-close encounter with an Accran, and nothing could have prepared him for the vile stench that poured from Tugg's gaping mouth. His skin went pale, and the boy tried desperately to hold back the vomit from exploding through his pursed lips. Tugg purred gently as he sawed at the bindings, the vocal pouches of his throat inflating as he inhaled the artificial solution within the breathing collar.

  After being freed, Soran took a deep breath of the smoke-filled air, preferable to the rotting smell of whatever Tugg had consumed. Ranna pulled the boy to his feet and put an arm around his shoulder, escorting him to the cockpit.

  "Guess you're looking for answers? Why are you here? Why did three strangers pluck you out into the cosmos in the middle of the night? Ranna asked, staring through a curved glass portal into the blackness.

  "We have a lead on a huge payday. Pirate-Lord huge." Ranna said. The severe tone returned to his voice, tinted with a hint of excitement.

  "You're the only hunter in the quadrant with the skills to pull this off. Well, the only one we could convince to work with us." He said, acting as if the kidnap had been a form of mutual negotiation.

  "I mean, Malig was one of the more dangerous customers, so this should be easy work, right?"

  "That doesn't explain why you had to kidnap me," Soran replied, annunciating his displeasure.

  "I won't lie to you, kid. We're currently in what you might call 'hot water' with some serious guys on Valaterra. Because of that, our current mission doesn't have a failure option. We need you, and we couldn't risk you turning down the offer." Soran could sense a semblance of regret, but it was far from an apology.

  The distinct possibility of being ejected from the airlock was deterrent enough not to come clean about the true nature of Malig's capture. On the other hand, soon, it would become painfully obvious he was not who they thought him to be; his lightly muscled frame and accidentally acquired scar tissue were a weak disguise at best. Whatever knowledge they perceived him to possess was a fantasy and a dangerous one. However, he could leverage the situation to get the help he needed. After all, his mission was to rescue Lanic, and, fortunately for him, he had just acquired a group of bounty hunters to aid in the task.

  "What's in it for me?" Asked Soran, to the surprise of Ranna and his crew, shocked at Soran's sudden attempt at negotiation.

  "We're making a stop at Valaterra to meet our informant. You'll be briefed on the mission and, more importantly, the pay." El chimed in from behind, thoughts of the potential fortune swimming in her head.

  "OK, I'm in. You can keep the money, but I want something in return. I'll help you get your guy, but you'll be in my debt." Soran interjected, trying to feign confidence as well as he knew how.

  Ranna turned, looking at the boy with intrigue.

  "Your terms?"

  "Malig's crew took a friend of mine, and I need your help to get him back." He spoke calmly and waited for a response.

  Ranna fell silent upon hearing the request. His quizzical smirk ruptured with laughter, unable to hold back his amusement. "Malig's crew? Your friend has already been tortured to death. Malig's men are sadistic psychopaths who don't spare even the weakest child. What would you have us do? Sneak onto their deathtrap and whisk your friend to freedom? Have you ever heard such shit?" Ranna spat his words as he spoke, ignoring the sincerity of the boy's fantastical request.

  "Well, in that case, you can drop me off at Valaterra, and I'll be on my way." Replied Soran, hoping that his bluff would work. Barely managing to finish his sentence, he was set upon by the hunters, encasing him in an aggressive cocoon.

  "What did you say?" Ranna said with a soft yet sinister tone.

  "When did I give you the impression this was optional? You'll help us with our catch, take your share of the slates, and only then will we be parting ways. After that, kid, then you can indulge your deluded suicide mission." Ranna said, prodding Soran's chest threateningly after every point.

  He had been naive to think he could fool them. Despite their unwillingness to help, he couldn't give up on Lanic. He was under no illusion he could save his mentor alone. The chances of coming across anyone even half as capable as the Horizon crew was a pipe dream even he couldn't indulge.

  "If I refuse?" Soran defiant mutter almost inaudible.

  Ranna leaned against the wall of his ship, eyeing the boy with a spellbinding stare. "I once watched Tugg rip a vault door clean in half. Imagine what he could do to a kid like you. Don't think you want to find out, or am I mistaken?" Ranna asked. Tugg bumped into the boy's back, staring down his snout menacingly and confirming their negotiation was over.

  Brushing past Ranna, Soran went to sit on a bench in the rear of the ship to contemplate his fate. El shot Ranna a disapproving look. Her hair had turned a dark shade of red, and her eyes sat cloaked under a scowl of disappointment.

  "OK," sighed Ranna, following the boy and slumping beside him.

  "It's nothing personal, kid. We want this to go off without a hitch, and the best chance is with you. After we're done, I'll see if I can dig up any info on Malig's crew. You know, as a little something extra for your service." Ranna said, offering a hand of peace. Soran looked the man in his midnight black eyes and sensed what he hoped was sincerity. As he clasped the man's hand, El and Tugg clapped in relief. A detour was not his first choice, but if there were a chance of saving Lanic, he would do whatever it took.