A Friend in Need

by Travis Perry

Jax knelt down beside Ernsto, who was flat on his back on a sandy patch at the bottom of a rocky gully, wincing in pain. “I’m so sorry about last night—I guess I’ve been regulating how much I drink by how much I bring in…I usually run out of cash before I can put down that much ale.”

Ernsto snorted, “So it’s my fault for helpin’ you bring in too big a haul?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. The fault was mine. I’m sorry I led her to you, that Zana lady.”

“Well, don’t expect much from me. I never used to forgive anything from anyone.”

“Used to? Does that mean you forgive now?”

“Well—that angel sure would want me to…” Ernsto’s voice trailed off and his eyes watered.

Jax stared at his new friend and didn’t know what to think. He’d heard Ernsto cry out before, as in for help or in pain—but he’d never seen him cry, not a single tear, not even when he’d set the bone in his arm. There was so much he didn’t know about this guy. What in the world could have affected him so much?

“What angel?” Jax finally asked in a soft voice.

“Never mind about her…I forgive you. God knows I done a lot worse than what you did. To someone a lot better’n me.” A single tear streaked down the side of his face, past his ear into the sand. Ernsto wiped at his face absently, as if he didn’t really care.

“Changing subjects, er…I don’t think I set your bone quite right. Your left arm is shorter than the other.”

“Hmmm. Don’ blame yourself. I think it’s because the bone is shattered in that spot.”

“Ah…doesn’t that mean it will never heal right? I’m not a doctor or anything, but I think that’s the case.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you are correct.”

“Shouldn’t we, ah…do something about that?”

“Got any suggestions? Remember I’m wanted everywhere. And believe me, the man that’s after me is sure to make me disappear forever. If they catch me.”

Jax rubbed his chin, looking upward, Sheba visible low over the east mountain ridge in the dust-orange hued sky. “You know, I think I’ve got an idea…”

Struggle

By Travis Perry - 

Zana’s mechanical left arm grabbed at the right arm of the man, who must have been Mons, who had wrestled her to the ground and had her pinned to her back, his hands pressing down on her shoulders. “You’re a woman!” he exclaimed in a surprise barely audible as the dust storm whooshed around him.

Her only answer was to vice down her hand grip on his arm. He grunted in pain as she squeezed but without hesitation rolled off her to her right, using the torque of his body twist to pull his arm free from her steely grip. She rolled onto her own right side, reaching after him with her left arm. But Mons no sooner tumbled away than he rolled back. With both hands he shoved her left hand into the ground, then her left shoulder, pushing her face down as he rolled himself back over top her body, pinning her under his greater weight.

That made Zana angry. She thrust her left arm behind her back and grabbed the first piece of his body she could reach and squeezed as hard as she could. Her mechanical side had some tactile sense, not as good as her right, but she perceived a bone breaking—which she realized was Mon’s left humerus, the bone of his upper arm. He screamed in her ear, but his credit, made no move away from his dominant position, his weight still pressing her face-down into the ground.

“Leggo!” he managed to shout. And now she could feel a cold steel blade along the right side of her throat. “Leggo, sweetheart! Or I’ll gut you like a fish!”

Zana paused for a moment, something in her wanting to tell him to go screw himself, something in her willing to die for the privilege of defying him. But something else wanted to live, if nothing else because she couldn’t stand the thought that she would die while her father still lived. She let go of the arm, the whirling dust storm surrounding them, the man’s weight crushing her face against the ground. She turned her head left to be able to breathe. The ground pressed back at her fiercely, several fist-sized rocks strewn underneath her—Ernsto was clearly a lot bigger than she was, his weight easily dominating hers.

“Jax, you idiot!” shouted Mons in pain. “Come here!  I need your help.”

The wind suddenly shifted again and seconds later died as it sometimes did, utterly unpredictable. The sky still hid itself behind high clouds but the dust storm was coming to an end nearly as fast as it had begun.

At that moment, she heard Cotton’s feet scrambling over rock. He’d somehow made it up the rock ledge and now his furious barking fast approached.

“Back him off,” growled Mons, pressing his knife a bit harder to her throat.

Zana turned her head right, the direction of the barking—Mons accommodated by backing off the knife a bit. “Sit!” she snapped, “Stay!” Cotton whined, but she could see in the dimness that he obeyed. “Good boy.” Cotton barked in frustration.

“Good move,” said Mons pained voice in her ear. “It’d be hard for me to kill a dog with only one good arm. Don’ get me wrong, I’m sure I’d still kill it. But it’d be messy. Painful—mostly for it.”

“Him!” Zana snapped back.

“Him then,” answered Mons.

“What the hell!” exclaimed Jax’s slightly slurred voice. “There’s a dog and that woman and…what the hell happened?”

“You celebrated your kill too much, that’s what happened!” Mons snapped. “Come over here and help me tie her up. And my arm is broken, I’ll need you to splint it!”

In this short time, a gap had cleared in the sky, greatly increasing the ambient light. Her head turned right, human right side of her face up, she heard Mons gasp as Jax stumbled close to help him. “By the angels,” Ernsto exclaimed, “You’re beautiful!”

“You bastard!” she shouted. She would have spat on him if she could have.

But then the two of them lashed her as she lay on the ground, using a lot of extra rope on her left arm, and then took her rifle and survival gear. Some time passed before Jax finished with Mon’s arm, before the two of them stumbled out of the area. Cotton obediently but frustratedly sat for her the entire time, barking regularly.

“Come here, boy, help me,” she said as soon as she estimated that Mons was out of rifle range from her dog. How dare he call her “beautiful”—she would escape these ropes and hunt down Ernsto Mons if was the last thing she ever did. She hated no one more than him at that moment—not even her own father.

Collision

By Travis Perry - 

Zana mounted the height around the hill in a steady stride, spiraling counterclockwise upward, moving briskly but not so fast she couldn’t hear. Cotton, who’d been well trained, didn’t bark much as a rule and wasn’t barking now. But he whined with an eagerness that told her he smelled or heard someone and it wasn’t easy for him to hold back rushing forward faster than she ever could.

“Good boy,” she said in a sub-vocal tone a dog would hear but a human never would. “Stay with me.”

With a suddenness that Zana had experienced all of her life, the calm night was suddenly and sharply broken by a harsh wind rushing in from the hinterlands. She faced into the wind and saw in the distance a darkness moving forward at a rapid pace, blocking out the stars more each passing second. A dust storm coming in. Soon.

She reached a wall of rock that formed a knob around the very top of this little mountain, a base to a climb that led steeply upward. From above, her ears received a wind-dimmed noise that by its tone had originally been shouts, “Ernsto! Ernsto! Where are you?” The voice she realized was Jax’s.

She glanced down at Cotton, who had his paws on the rock wall, scratching at it with his claws, looking as if he wanted to scramble up the little cliff, growling in a low tone. “He’s up there, is he?” Zana vocalized. Cotton replied with a single sharp bark.

She was taking a risk, but chances were fairly good that Mons would move toward Jax’s voice, giving her the opportunity to come up behind him, if she moved quietly enough. And now was the time to move, while she could still see the handholds in the rock.

Her mechanical left arm pulled her up from handhold to handhold, while she managed to keep the rifle from banging into her too badly as she tried to both help move upward and control it with her right hand. Soon, she’d mounted the little rock wall and found a ledge about a meter wide there. Above her the hill continued up steeply to the top, maybe seventy meters higher. She saw the dark shape of a torso some fifty meters above her, the lower body covered by the curvature of the hill.

She pointed the rifle that way, looking and listening as the wind rushed around her in a whistle. “Ernsto!” shouted the shape above her. “Ernsto! Hey, I brought medicine! Hey, where are you?”

At that moment, Cotton started barking furiously from down below. And the wind changed, now hurling dirt around her, the hillside offering some protection, but not enough to keep her eyes from watering and blinking. But nonetheless she was able to see well enough to notice a flash of movement registering a dark shape—a human shape—hurling itself from behind a boulder less than five meters away on the hill above her, straight down towards her. She raised the rifle to fire, but too late.

A man’s body collided into hers and she fell, losing control of the rife. The man, who had strong arms and who smelled of sweat and bug gall and blood, grappled with her as the winds whipped dust around them and Cotton’s barking transformed into a frenzy…

Equal and Opposite Reaction

by Travis Perry

Zana followed Jax as he climbed up a trail leading into the hills north of the Palmer camp, Cotton padding alongside her. The lesser whalelight and an unusually dust-free fiveday Summer night made visibility much higher than it would normally be at this hour.

There must be somebody else up there she realized. Why else would a hunter with money in his pocket and ale in his belly climb a hillside in the middle of the night? Normally someone like that would rent a locker for his gear and a cot for his backside and sleep in camp for the night…or even the next day or two…

So she scanned the hills very carefully, looking for any warning of danger, her rifle at the low ready. And then she saw it—a glint of light reflecting from what must be some sort of glass. She snapped up her rifle and looked through her scope. The optic brought the glint close but whatever caused it was already moving.

She lowered the rifle for better visibility and ducked into a branch to the left, veering off the trail Jax trudged up, which would put her in a counterclockwise rotation around the hill. If Mons were up there, she’d circle around until she found him…

#

“Looks like Jax’s had a good time,” muttered Ernsto as he looked through Jax’s binos, watching him stumble up the hill. The binos were his new friend’s most expensive piece of gear—so Jax hadn’t wanted to part with them. But he had insisted…

Some instinct told him to scan the area behind Jax. Two shapes moved there, in line with Jax, trailing behind by about one hundred meters. “Damnit! He’s being followed!”

And the larger shape suddenly changed shape. Ernsto saw light reflect of what probably was a rifle optic as it rose. He cursed and rolled over to all fours and scrambled forward, down the hill, scrambling downward in a circle going clockwise around the peak…

Observation

by Travis Perry - 

Zana decided to keep an eye on the one called, “Jax.” A tiny flicker of recognition had crossed his face when she’d shown him the glossy of Ernsto Mons. Jax knew Ernsto, or at least had seen him at some point, Zana would have bet her last credit on that. She could have threatened him, but her gut instinct told her he wouldn’t have talked—not easily anyway.

At the moment, Jax lingered at Maddie’s Pub, seated at a stool near the front, while Zana lingered at a table near the back. He was that kind of hunter, it seemed, the kind to drink big whenever he brought in a big haul. The kind that, like it or not, was the main reason a business like Maddie’s could turn a profit.

Hours passed but eventually, Jax stumbled out of the establishment, dragging a heavy pack after him, clearly full of something, probably supplies. Not too suddenly, Zana followed along after him, Cotton padding alongside her.

Just as she passed outside the pub door, she observed Jax stumble into the nearby “Elimination Tent.” At least he wasn’t the kind of hunter to empty his bladder on the outside wall of the Pub…Zana rounded the corner around the left of the tent. And waited.

Not more than a minute later, she heard footsteps stumbling out across the hardbrick in front of the tent flap entrance. Jax was lucky somebody didn’t assault him and take whatever money he had left on him…if he had any money left, that is. Apparently the Palmer Trading Camp on the outskirts of Adagio wasn’t actually as rough as local lore would suggest.

Jax didn’t reenter the pub. Instead, he stood in the reddish light of the lesser whale, puzzled for a moment, while Zana observed him from the side of the tent. He unsteadily lined up his body as his eyes searched something in particular, perhaps a specific feature on the horizon. Then he pulled on the heavy pack onto his shoulders and stumbled that direction, in something loosely approximating a straight line, straight out of the Palmer Camp.

Zana found it simplicity itself to follow after him.

Inquiry

Inquiry

By Travis Perry

“You seen this man?” The woman asking had a definite no-nonsense presence—titanium patching on her face, a robotic left arm and left leg. The glossy she held in Jax’s face looked familiar.

“Uh, maybe. I see lots of people.”

“There’s a substantial bounty on this one—the biggest I’ve ever seen. If you know something leading to the arrest of Ernsto Mons, that would be worth five thousand credits to you.”

“Ernsto Mons—that’s the guy in the picture?” Jax looked up at the woman’s face. Her non-robotic parts were actually quite attractive. He felt embarrassed to notice, and it formed a painful reminder of his wife separated from him on Avenir, but in fact he hadn’t seen a lot of women of late—other than Maddie, of course, and some old hag who did cleaning. But the blaze in her eye told him she was even more no-nonsense than his first impression would indicate. Her dog eyed him with a tilted head, as if suspicious.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“What’s he wanted for?”

“About everything—theft, smuggling, murder, human trafficking, insurrection, plotting to assassinate an Avenir government official, plotting to overthrow the Avenir government.”

Jax let out a low whistle. “Whoa. So what’s five thousand credits? Like ten percent?”

The woman nearly smiled at him. The expression sent a chill down his spine. “Why? Are you going to try to haggle for a bigger cut?”

“No—I mean, no, ma’am. Just, er, wondering…” his voice trailed off.

“Look, do you know something or not?”

Jax had already decided what to do. Whatever else he had done, Ernsto had kept a coriander beetle from attacking him from behind while another attacked from the front. Ernsto had also helped move the beetles into the trading camp, yielding a good haul, though he had insisted on staying outside himself. Jax owed him. “Er, sorry. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Hmmm,” she replied, studying him. “Well, if you change your mind, ask for me at the trading post. Everyone knows my name there.”

“Which is?” When her fierce eyes met his own, Jax added, “…er, ma’am…”

“Zana. That’s all you need to know.” And then she turned away.

Bounty

by Travis Perry -

Jax ran after the headless coriander beetle that dragged Ernsto under its body. The spear would not be effective against the thick shell at the rear of the creature, but he thrust it anyway. Perhaps some sort of pain reflex would slow it down…

The beetle’s hindquarters twitched when Jax jabbed, but otherwise the spear point had no effect. A streak of dark human blood flowed behind the dragged human, from Ernsto’s back.

“Help! Help!” Ernsto barked as he helplessly kicked and punched upward. Jax briefly considered pulling his scythegun. It would ruin the value of the kill, but it certainly would stop the beetle’s forward motion. He hesitated, concerned the blast might also injure or kill the human underneath the beetle…

Before he could decide, the beetle’s headless—but still running full speed—thorax pushed into the sandy patch where Ernsto had hidden. In the sand, Jax saw him push hard with arms and legs and disengage himself from the bug’s undercarriage, the softer ground allowing him to succeed in pushing himself down and away. The decapitated beetle kept moving forward until it impacted a boulder on the other side of the sandy patch. Its way blocked, it still tried to move ahead, its legs vainly scratching the rocky ground, the headless torso pressed into the boulder too big for it to budge…

“You all right, pal?” asked Jax, standing over the motionless Ernsto, who had rolled over to his stomach on the sandy ground. Quite a lot of dark venous blood oozed from his back, all over the back—the wounds in fact seemed deeper and more extensive than what he could account for based on the recent scrape along the ground.

“Just give me a minute,” said Ernsto. “I’ll be fine.”

 “We need to get you to a doctor,” Jax replied. “With this bounty of a harvest—three corianders in good condition—we should be able to pay the medics for some treatment.”

“Bounty,” muttered the voice below him, “That’s an interestin’ choice of words…there’s a bounty on my head that’ll make your notion difficult to carry out…”

“Don’t worry. Nobody checks that sort of thing at the Palmer trading camp.”

The man chuckled bitterly. “If only you knew.”

Uncertain Injury

by Travis Perry -

 “Front or back?” demanded Ernsto in a low voice.

For an instant, Jax wondered front or back what? But then his mouth said, “Front,” and he stepped forward with the spear, eyes searching for any bit of rock he could quickly scramble to the top of to lure the beetle coming down the draw into a standing position, exposing its lungs.

A quick glimpse cast backward showed the man he’d just met pull himself out of the sand, moving backward toward the aggressive male coriander on the rock pile behind them, his very large knife gripped in his right hand. Snapped back forward, his eyes registered the beetle from above now charging down the draw, grunting in rage.

Many possible rock formations lay in view—all good, none great. With reaction time running out, Jax charged a fractured boulder to his left and leapt upon it in a single adrenaline-fueled bound. He just managed to raise his hands over his head as the beetle hit the rock. It paused a moment then flipped up to a standing position, the four lower legs on the ground, its pinchers and upper two legs clawing at its higher opponent—Jax.

The edge of the book lung showed itself near the bottom of the beetle, close to the ground, close to the boulder. It would have been relatively easy to miss the target for someone too nervous or plain terrified. But Jax had done this many times before…his pulse pounded and his body trembled with the rush of fight-or-flight chemicals that naturally flooded into his bloodstream, but his mind was focused and clear—the spear flew down in a very short throw, sinking straight into the lung with a psssh of releasing air.

The mortally-wounded bug was not dead yet. It shook, as if with rage, and dropped back down on all sixes and charged up the boulder, pinchers hammering together. Jax lept backward, landing on hands and feet just behind the rock. Before him he witnessed the butt of the spear wedge into a crack of the boulder as the massive beetle plowed forward. Its inertia only drove the spear deeper into its body. It twitched but stopped moving forward, its yardball-sized head advancing no further than just beyond the boulder’s peak.

“Help!” the voice came from to his left. Glancing that way, he saw a headless coriander beetle that clearly had kept charging forward after its decapitation, which must have impacted into Ernsto and knocked him down because now it was dragging him forward, pushing him by the beetle’s undercarriage, its headless neck gushing fluids on the human’s face as it plowed Ernsto forward nearly at full speed, tearing the man’s back across the ground.

This was bad. Jax knew a coriander beetle could live a long time without its head.

Surprise

by Travis Perry -

                    

Jax often hunted alone. He’d tried partners and had found that while there is safety in numbers, there was the downside that a lot of these hunters were bugscat crazy—and dangerous. And when hunting alone, he got 100% of the haul, every time.

This blazing fiveday Summer afternoon, out on his own, he stood with a rock formation behind him. Temporarily he leaned his spear on a rock as he pulled loose the drawstring on his rucksack made from a membrane found on the inside of the pinto beetle shell. He reached in and pulled out a wet gland, one he’d taken on a hunt just three days ago. This contained the musk of male coriander beetle. He squeezed the gland, expressing pungent fluid on his hands. He wiped his forearms in the smelly goo and held his arms upward in the air, letting the hot wind spread the odor wherever it whipped in this narrow rocky draw.

He’d learned from experience that male corianders were aggressive and territorial. One strong whiff of a rival and they’d come charging from all around, spoiling for a fight. In practice this may not work so well, since there wasn’t always one in the range of the scent. But he’d spotted several in the area before he came down the ridge covered with broken black basalt into this claustrophobically tight, sandy-bottomed draw.

Another problem came from the fact the beetles could charge in from any direction—that he’d accounted for by where he placed himself. Within the high rock walls on either side, there was only one route in—the natural rock heap behind him covered that route to his rear, so any bug coming after him would have to charge down the draw from the ridge, the direction he was facing, one at a time.

The rocks helped him with another potential difficulty—male coriander beetles usually charged in low, pinchers first, making a poor target for a spear attack, which ideally hit the book or bellows lungs under the belly.  If a beetle charged him here, he could back up the rock pile a little bit. Almost every time the corianders would raise themselves up on their four hind legs when facing an enemy on higher ground, giving a perfect shot at the lungs. Though sometimes they didn’t slow down at all, charging straight up, slamming their heavy sharp pinchers together in the attack. Times like that were a little more challenging…

He heard scurrying from the ridge before he even had time to retrieve his spear. Spear newly in hand his eyes caught a coriander as it shook its head back and forth, sweeping its antennae. It audibly grunted from the top of the draw, just over one hundred meters away.

“Right down here, buddy,” Jax said. “Come on down.”

Within seconds the obedient bug charged down the draw, straight toward his position. It was a healthy young male, larger than average. It would bring a decent price.

Crossing the sandiest patch in the draw, the bug suddenly stopped and squealed. Its legs thrashed but something from underneath held it in place. It attempted to pivot its pinchers underneath its body, a position anatomically impossible for it. It thrashed over on its side, legs twitching.

Bug flipped over, Jax now saw an arm, a human arm, holding a large knife that had pierced the bug’s lungs—sticking straight up from the sand. The patch moved and suddenly a man stood up from it, huffing and blowing sand from his mouth.

“Hey you, on the rock pile,” croaked the voice. “I’ll split the kill with you if you can give me a hand.”

Jax moved forward. He didn’t know whether to be more annoyed at the loss of his kill or amazed by the means by which he’d lost it.

The man’s legs were still buried in sand. “I figured one would come by sooner or later,” he mumbled.

“Sooner or later?” exclaimed Jax. “How long were you buried there? I’ve been in the area for a couple of hours and I didn’t see you at all.”

“Ah…it’s been about two days I think. It was fiveday Winter when I dug in.” The man tried to spit but nothing came from his mouth. “You wouldn’t happen to have any water, would you, pal? That’s the main thing I need.”

“Sure,” said Jax, more astounded than before. The dark-haired man took a long drink from his waterskin and reluctantly handed it back.

“So now what do we do? This is my first kill.”

“Your first?” Jax scratched his head. “You came out here with just a knife?”

“Yes. Yes I did.”

“Dear God—who are you?”

“Ernsto—last name doesn’t matter.”

Jax couldn’t help but chuckle. “You must be the craziest man—” he cut off when he heard new grunting from the top of the ridge. Another coriander beetle, this one bigger than the last, stood at the top of the draw.

And then he heard grunting from behind. He whipped his head back and saw another big male waving antennae. From the top of his rock pile.

Meeting at Maddie's

by Kaye Jeffreys -

Gritty wind is hard to breathe, even through a face mask. And boots are heavy to walk in. In fact, you don't really walk in them. It is more of a trudge. And Jereth trudged down the street in Adagio. Once he arrived at the pub he pushed against the heavy door and went in.

"Shut the door," some lady called from behind the counter. That must be Maddie.

Jereth did as she said then moved the goggles from his eyes to his forehead and removed the mask from his nose and mouth.

A man at one of the tables stared at him. Jareth turned away and found his own table. The man was familiar but Jereth didn't take a second look.

The man got up, threw a coin onto the counter and left.

Jereth didn't sit for long. The door opened again and two people walked in. Lessie spotted him immediately, "Jereth!" she ran to him and gave him one of her famous bug hugs.

Her eyes were red and her face smudged, just like everyone he'd seen landside. "I can't believe you are here. I'm so glad to see you."

Jereth smiled. "It's good to see you." Then he turned to Carter and extended his hand, "And you too."

"Jereth." Carter shook his hand but kept a guarded expression.

Lessie put her hands on her hips. "You better have a good reason for abandoning the cat I gave you."

"Neenah? She likes my brother way better than me." Jereth pulled out a chair for Lessie.

Lessie sat. "Yeah, right. Jereth, you look great."

"I wish I could say the same about you." Jereth motioned for Carter to sit by Lessie.

"After a while you'll look like us. Are you ready to get grit in your eyes and nose?"

"I already have it in my teeth." He wasn't kidding.

Lessie laughed. "That will teach you to keep you mouth shut when you breathe."

Then it hit him. He remembered who the man was.

"What is it?" Lessie put her hand on Jereth's arm.

"Nothing." Jereth glanced at the table where Jax sat moments ago.

"Liar. You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Maybe I did. Some guy I know from Avenir was in here."

"So?"

"So, he's supposed to be dead."

Lessie shrugged. "Probably just someone down here who looks like him."

"Probably." Jereth grimaced. Too bad he wasn't smart enough to fake his own death. Then he wouldn't be looking over his shoulder for his father's thugs.

Alive

by Kat Heckenbach -

Mary leaned over the rail of the crib and kissed Jacey’s tiny forehead. The peach fuzz along the baby’s hairline clung to her skin, damp with sweat, but her angelic face was completely relaxed.

“If only your daddy could have seen you.” Mary gazed at Jacey in wonderment over the features that looked so much like Jax. A perfect replica, even down to the arch of her eyebrows and the dimple that played in and out on her left cheek as she smiled in her sleep.

She sighed and left the room. The kids would be home any minute and she hadn’t even figured out what to cook for dinner. Granted, having an old friend stop by had been a worthy excuse. She smiled as she sorted through the conversation she’d had with Tomika, recalling how good it had felt to talk to someone about Jax without feeling like “the criminal’s widow.”

As she walked across the living area, chill air hit her skin. She stepped toward the environmental control panel next to her bedroom door, but as her gaze passed the open doorway she froze. Something silvery glinted on her nightstand.

What is that?

She crept into the bedroom, chills running up her arms. Atop her journal lay a triangular piece of metal. It looked like a knife.

No, as she got closer she realized it was too wide to be a knife and had no real handle, but it looked deadly sharp. She reached the nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed, tears burning her eyes as she read the word “Mary” carved into the metal in Jax’s signature scrawl.

Jax…

She slid from the edge of the bed and landed on her knees, her hips sinking until she was sitting on her heels. Her hands found their way into her bangs and her torso rocked back, forth, back, forth, tears streaming her cheeks and dripping from her chin.

Jax….Oh, God, thank you…

#

The door to Maddie’s pub slammed behind Jax as he exited. His head swam from too much ale. It had been an unusually good haul today—but as his dust-encrusted boot caught on a rock and he stumbled to regain his balance, he wondered if maybe he’d celebrated a little too hard. But celebrations were something that came few and far between for him. Most days he was happy just to be alive.

Changes

by Kat Heckenbach -

Tomika sat on the couch, knees bent, calves tucked under her. She leaned back and released a sigh as she stared at the object in her palm.

Despite numerous scratches, the metal spearhead glinted in the overhead light. Its edges were chipped and worn, but the tip was honed to a point that had nearly gouged Tomika’s hand as she’d pulled the spearhead from the chunk of beetle meat she’d brought home from the market.

Most of the scratches were merely evidence of use. All but the name etched in the center of one side.

Mary.

A common name. Too common to mean anything. Except the way it was written… in all capitals, with the “A” made from one fluid stroke so that it looked almost like a star. The same way Mary’s husband Jax wrote the “A” in his own name. Tomika had seen it enough times on Jax’s artwork—carvings done on polished squares of beetle shell—to know it couldn’t be someone else’s writing.

This changes everything.

Jax was supposed to be dead. So how was there a spearhead with his wife’s name on it sitting in her hand?

A spearhead…

Beeping snapped Tomika out of her thoughts. She lifted her head and looked at the vidscreen on the far wall. The name “X. Chambers” flashed in the corner of the screen. Tomika tapped her finger against her leg. If she didn’t answer, Xavia would just keep calling. She leaned forward and dropped the spearhead into the basket sitting on the coffee table so it wouldn’t be visible to the camera, then sat back up.

“Answer,” she said.

Xavia’s image appeared on the vidscreen. “Tomi, why haven’t you called? I thought we were meeting for lunch today.” She sat cross-legged in a hoverchair, a gold anklet flashing reflected light as she tapped her foot against nothing.

Right. Lunch. She’d forgotten. “Sorry, Xav, can’t make it today. I’m not feeling well.”

Xavia leaned forward. “You do look rather puny. Was it the meat you bought? It was bad, wasn’t it? I tried to tell you…the stuff they sell down on that level is poor quality. The higher the level, the higher the quality—you should know that by now. It’s why we pay what we do for these apartments. Next time—”

“Listen, Xav, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later. Maybe we’ll do lunch tomorrow. Say hi to the girls for me. End connection.”
The vidscreen shut off just as Xavia’s mouth opened. Tomika raked her fingers through her hair, and pulled the long, black tresses forward over her left shoulder. She smiled as she thought of Xavia’s words. Yep, Xav, the meat was bad…

A spearhead.

Jax was alive, and bug hunting. Which meant his death had been faked. It was the only explanation. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Jax was the first to be arrested, and then every last “business partner” of his gets busted. He must have made a deal. A deal that meant banishment from the station to the planet below—leaving Mary with three kids to care for, and another on the way, all thinking he was dead. Tomika didn’t know how the girl had handled it.

Or…did Mary know?

Tomika jumped up from the couch and plucked the spearhead out of the basket. She grabbed a towel from the kitchen, carefully wrapped the spearhead, and slipped it into her bag.

#

Tomika’s footsteps echoed off the metal walls of the curved corridor. The electric hum of Avenir’s core didn’t travel to Tomika’s upper level, but she could detect it faintly here on Mary’s. She stopped and placed her thumb on the scanner by Mary’s door. Her heart pounded, and she fidgeted with the silver ring on her right hand while she waited for Mary to answer.

The door slid open. Mary stood in the entryway, a sleeping newborn in her arms.

“Tomika, wow. When the vidscreen showed it was you at the door…”

“I know—it’s been a while. I’m sorry. I should have called first.” Tomika shifted her weight. What was she doing? She couldn’t have had worse timing. “I’ll come back later…”

“No, it’s fine. Come on in. Jacey will be sleeping for a while.” Mary stepped back to make room for Tomika to enter. Tomika followed her inside, the door sliding shut behind them. They took seats in hoverchairs facing each other. Mary began to rock hers.

Tomika smiled. “Jacey…what a pretty name.”

Mary lowered her gaze to the sleeping infant and ran her fingertips over the peach fuzz on the top of Jacey’s head. “I named her after Jax, of course. It’s not fair that he never got to know about her.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

Mary looked up, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “I was planning to…the night he…” She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. “He was supposed to be coming home that night, to await trial.”

Tomika stared at Mary. The unfinished sentence…the night he…echoed in her mind. Would that last word have been “died”—or something else? Disappeared. Left. Did Mary know the truth? Was she simply upset that Jax was sent away before she had a chance to tell him, or did she really believe him to be dead?

Tomika struggled for a way to find out. It had been a few months since she’d last seen Mary, their friendship decaying in the wake of all Mary was going through. Tomika’s own life had gone on as usual, and the rift that formed between them seemed impossible to repair. Her mind refocused on the spearhead in her bag.

This changes everything.

Mary wiped her eyes and pulled Jacey close, kissing the tiny forehead. “She looks just like him.”

“I bet that would make him happy to hear,” Tomika said.

“It would.” Mary laughed. “He always griped that none of our kids looked like his side of the family—as if my genes had somehow taken over. Well, he finally got his way.”

They talked about everything, including Jax, but the conversation never took a turn toward anything Tomika could use. Still, their hoverchairs eased closer as they continued to talk, and the rift in their friendship seemed to shrink as well. Soon, Tomika’s chair was touching Mary’s, and she stared down into Jacey’s face.

“You want to hold her?”

Tomika looked up and smiled at Mary. “Yeah…actually, I do.”

Mary shifted her chair around to face Tomika and eased Jacey into Tomika’s arms. The baby’s head lay in the crook of Tomika’s elbow. So small, so soft. Innocent.

Jax had not been innocent, but apparently he’d done the right thing in the end. Tomika wondered how Mary felt, either way. If Mary knew Jax was still alive, did it make her angry that he’d given up his family?

Tomika mustered her resolve. She needed to find out…but how? She looked at Mary, who’d leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. Mary’s eyes fought to stay open.

“Mary, why don’t you go take a nap? I’ll sit here with Jacey.”

Mary glanced down at her watch. “Well, there’s still some time before the kids get home from school. Wake me in fifteen minutes?”

Tomika nodded. Mary slipped out the hoverchair and smiled down at Jacey before disappearing into the bedroom. As soon as the door slid shut behind Mary, Tomika stood. Jacey nestled securely in her arms, Tomika walked through the living area and scanned for anything lying around that might clue her in to what Mary knew.

The apartment was neat, with just enough mess to show that kids made their home here. A stray toy lay on the floor, and the outer wall was smudged with little fingerprints. Tomika stepped in front of the wide porthole on the far wall of the main living area. Stars twinkled through the misty glow of red light that reflected from Eclectia, although the planet itself wasn’t visible from this side of the station.

Tomika turned and gazed around the room once more, eyeing open surfaces. She told herself she would not snoop…not really…no opening drawers, no peeking behind cabinet doors…

She walked toward a desk that hugged the wall next to Mary’s bedroom door. Sleek squares were stacked on top—but as Tomika reached the desk she saw that they were carvings made not by Jax, but Mary’s children. She let out a sigh and leaned against the wall. Jacey wiggled in her arms, smacked her tiny lips, but didn’t wake.

A muffled noise carried through the wall. Tomika pressed her ear against the hard, polymer structure and listened.

Sobbing.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. Tears burned behind her lids. She eased one hand out from under Jacey, shifting the baby’s weight so she stayed secure, and reached up to wipe the tears away. Her elbow bumped something sticking out from the wall, and Mary’s sobs came louder and more clearly. Tomika opened her eyes, stifling a gasp, and looked at the button she’d hit with her elbow. Of course, the intercom.

She reached out to turn it off, but her hand stopped mid-way when she heard Mary say Jax’s name. It came out muffled, but this time as if her face were pushed into her pillow.

“Why, Jax? Why did you have to leave us?”

Tomika held her breath, hand still poised in mid-air.

“I miss you, Jax…I miss you so much….”

Tomika swallowed and then snapped the intercom off. Jacey began to squirm in her arms, and Tomika turned and walked back to the hoverchair, where she sat and rocked until Jacey settled down.

Moments later, Mary’s bedroom door slid open. Her eyes were red, but tearless. She smiled weakly. “Is she still sleeping?”

Tomika nodded. “Yeah, but only just. I think she wants her momma.”

Mary smiled genuinely this time and walked over to Tomika. She eased the baby from Tomika’s arms. “Ah…not momma she wants. More like a new diaper. Wait here while I change her?”

Tomika shook her head as she stood. “No, I should be going. Xav is pretty peeved at me for skipping out on lunch today. Maybe I can catch the girls before they leave the club.”

“Well…” Mary shifted Jacey to one arm, then reached out and touched Tomika’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you came by. Next time, don’t take so long.”

Tomika wrapped her arms around Mary and the baby. “You bet.” She let go and backed up. “Now go clean up that little peanut. I’ll let myself out.”

Mary bobbed her head in a slight nod. “Thanks.” She turned and walked toward the children’s room. The sound of Mary’s footsteps told Tomika she was far from the open door. Tomika crept into Mary’s bedroom, where she pulled out the spearhead and unwrapped it from the towel.

She set the spearhead on Mary’s nightstand.

“He misses you, too, Mary.”

With that, she left Mary’s and headed back to her life. But today had changed everything.

Contact

by Greg Mitchell -

“Somebody help! We need help over here!”

Trebs was growing pale, his lips turning purple, his skin sallow and thin. Dressler struggled under the other man’s weight, barely able to breathe after their long journey. After the beetle attacked out on the field, Dressler had done his best to make a tourniquet for Trebs’ pierced thigh, but without medical attention his co-hunter was going to die.

“We need a doctor!” Dressler shouted once more.

“No, Daddy…” Trebs mumbled through cracked lips. “It’s too dark, Dad…too dark…”

By time they reached the infirmary tent back at camp, another sand storm had picked up. Waves of hard grit felt like needles on Dressler’s face. He had his goggles on, his kerchief over his face, but the heat was blistering. Trebs slipped in and out of hysteria, sometimes whimpering like a child, other times shouting at the air, cursing his father.

Medics hurried out of the tent, fighting against the high winds to reach Trebs.

“He got hit by a bug,” Dressler shouted over nature’s roar. “He’s lost a lot of blood. He’s delirious.”

Two strong medics, decked in thick coats, caps, and goggles, hefted Trebs between them and dragged him toward the tent. Dressler followed, feeling like he’d just lost a hundred and seventy pounds. His arms tingled as he moved them again, and he looked down to see he was covered in Trebs’ blood.

Dressler pushed his way through the tent, instantly relieved of Eclectia’s cruelty. His hearing returned, his breathing slowed, and he removed his goggles and facemask. Surgeons apprised themselves of Trebs’ condition, cutting away his pants and stripping them off of him with a wet slap. Dressler glimpsed the wound, pumping blood like a volcano. Doctors hurried to stop the bleeding, beginning their operation.

“You’re going to have to leave,” one of the doctors ordered Dressler. He obliged, feeling unwanted, and retreated back into the storm.

Against the harsh winds, he crossed the camp to another, larger tent. Entering, he saw other dirtied bug hunters eating, drinking, laughing. Dressler dragged himself through the slop line, craving a little R&R at Maddie’s Pub back in town, but the mess tent would have to do. Nobody said anything to him as he gathered his plate of goop and found a seat at a nearly vacant table. Nobody knew what he’d just been through, the attack, that Trebs was fighting for his life.

He and Trebs weren’t friends, not in the traditional sense. He knew almost everything about the man, but that came from years together chasing beetles for meat. Alone out in the sands, there was little to do but talk. Get to know one another.

Except, Dressler hadn’t told Trebs about Edilyn. He’d not told many, except his sister. Dressler’s daughter Edilyn was diagnosed three weeks ago with ash lung. Only three Foundings old and the “experts” had given her two to six months to live. Edilyn was holding up, putting on a brave face for her dad, or perhaps she didn’t realize what she was facing. Only a child, she didn’t know the things she’d miss—school, growing up, making friends, falling in love, starting a family. Common human experiences that nearly everyone took for granted, but Edilyn would never have that chance. Dressler knew that even after she was gone, he’d celebrate every birthday, imagine every milestone that would have come. He’d continue to think about her life and what it could’ve—should’ve— been, long after she’d stopped living it.

It was his curse to bear.

One other hunter sat along the table from him. They were alone, the two of them. Jax was a strange one. He seemed different than the others. Quiet, withdrawn, like he was always thinking about something. The other hunters had given him a wide berth ever since his recent arrival, whispering about where he came from or who he was before he became a hunter. Most of Dressler’s ilk was born into this trade, learning to use a spear and rifle as soon as they could pull a pacifier out of their mouths. It was their culture—the mark of true manhood. Bug hunters took great pride in their work, telling stories of daring adventures against bug-kind. They were a loud, conceited sort, and Dressler might have joined with them not too long ago. He would have laughed and drank and shared wild tales, but Edilyn…

“Hey,” Jax spoke, breaking Dressler’s thoughts. Dressler regarded the other man, surprised. Jax’s face was pensive, his tone soft but distant. “You okay?”

Dressler remembered he was painted with blood—both human red and bug yellow. But he wasn’t the confiding type. “Yeah.”

Jax gave him a doubtful look then resumed his fabled deep thinking, continuing to eat. Dressler stared at the mound of nutritional slush on his plate, but had a hard time bringing himself to consume it. He thought of Trebs, of Edilyn, of his life on this ruined rock, and held his face in his hands.

“Excuse me,” a timid voice interrupted.

Dressler saw one of the camp nurses standing over him, her gown splattered with blood. It was then that Dressler realized how quiet the mess hall had grown all of a sudden, as everyone watched her and, by proxy, him. The nurse wrung her hands and Dressler prepared himself for the news that Trebs was dead. He’d have to tell the man’s family.

“Your friend wants to speak with you,” the nurse said, biting her lip. Her face was a mix of worry and fear.

Dressler stood. “He’s alive?”

She nodded. “We’ll talk more…in private.”

The nurse left him there, throwing conspiratorial glances over her shoulder. The men watched Dressler, mumbling gossip amongst themselves. Dressler felt out of place and looked to Jax for support, though he had no idea why. At last, he followed the nurse outside. She waited for him at the side of the tent, away from the hunters. The storm had subsided now, the breeze caressing the desert sands.

Dressler approached the woman, and she whispered, “He’s…he’s healed.”

“Okay,” Dressler said. “I’m glad the doctors were able to get to him in time.”

“No,” she corrected. “He’s healed. The wound is gone. It’s like he was never attacked.”

Dressler’s mind went blank. “I…I don’t understand. He lost so much blood.”

“He died on the operating table and then he just…woke up. The wound closed up on its own. There’s not even a scar. Not a scratch.”

“How is that possible?”

The nurse leveled her eyes at him. They were filled with a quiet terror. “It’s not. But…he wants to speak with you.”

At once, Dressler tromped across camp, headed for the infirmary. With force he pushed open the front flap, and gasped. Trebs was in a gown, sitting up on the bed, the medical staff pressed to one wall of the tent, talking heatedly, their voices low. Trebs turned to Dressler and smiled.

“Hey, Dress.”

Doctors and nurses halted in their debate, eyeing the visitor. Dressler wanted to talk to them, to find out what had happened, but Trebs was focused on him, his face passive and full of light.

“Hey…Trebs,” Dressler greeted awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Hesitant, he walked closer to the hunter on the cot. “They, uh, they said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Not me,” Trebs chuckled softly. “Through me, but it’s someone else who has something to say. Come here.” He lifted his chin towards the professionals huddling in the corner. “It’s not for them.”

Dressler did as requested, a foreboding dread gnawing at his gut. As he drew near, Trebs leaned forward, excited. “I saw them, man.”

“Who?”

“The angels.”

Dressler shook his head. “No.”

“Yes. I was dead. I was in the black…Then one of them came to me, glowing and warm. He, it, whatever, said that he would send me back. He’d heal me. He said I had good to do in my life. Hah, can you believe that? My old man,” Trebs trailed off, his eyes glistening with tears. “…he never thought I’d ever be any good…but I’ve got work to do, the angel said. And the first thing to do is talk to you.”

Dressler exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath. “Why me?”

Trebs looked to the floor. “Is, uh…is something wrong with Edilyn?”

Dressler felt as though a weight had slammed into his stomach, punching out his breath. “What?”

“The angel told me. He knows she’s sick, man. She’s dying. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…”

“It doesn’t matter. The angel wants to help. He said that he knows your kid believes and that ‘believers get rewarded’.”

Feeling faint, Dressler braced himself on the cot, trembling.

“You gotta go down there, though,” Trebs said. “I’m just the messenger. He said he can help you, but you’ve got to go down there. Under the water.”

Dressler wanted to protest. Why? How? The angel had healed Trebs—brought him back from the dead—from all these kilometers away. Why did Dressler have to brave the waters in order for Edilyn to be saved? It wasn’t fair. “Why can’t he heal her like he did you?”

Trebs shrugged. “I don’t know, Dress. I should’ve asked, but I was so grateful. You don’t know what it’s like when you’re around those guys. I felt it, man. It was like…joy. Pure joy. But you’ve gotta go to him.”

Dressler considered for a long moment, his mind filled with doubt, confusion, but most of all, hope. He spotted the doctors waiting on him, to hear his decision, and he would not keep them waiting any longer.

“Yeah. Okay. Where do I start?”

Maddie's Pub

by Grace Bridges -

Hinges creaked. Maddie glanced up in time to see a bedraggled huntsman drag himself inside. He kicked the door to ensure the rubber seal took properly.

Good. She didn’t want more wind-borne ash in here than was absolutely necessary. Only the newbies to Eclectia’s harsh land would leave any door or window open. She’d trained her regulars well.

Maddie turned back to the open fire, fueled by scrubby brush—the only stuff that grew here. She poked at the meat stew in the cauldron, and its pungent aroma released into the room. She frowned. If only she had a potato to put in it—that would make a dish fit for a wizard. But no wizard had ever set foot in her establishment, and potatoes only grew in the underwater gardens—out of reach for any grit-breather unless he was filthy rich, but the rich folks didn’t live here. Here, they had to make do with the bitter leaves and seeds of the lavabush—both for bread and ale—and the third-grade meat plentiful in a hunting village.

She ladled stew into a bowl and made her way between the tables to plunk it before the hunter. “Here you go, Jax. Good hunting today?” He stared blankly at the food for a moment, then nodded with the weariness of one who had shot a giant beetle and hauled it back to town. Maddie knew that look very well. She gave him a friendly whack on the back, waited till he let a small smile slip out, then headed back to her kitchen across the room.

The earth rumbled and the building shook, its flexible mortar and light pulpblock walls absorbing the shocks. Maddie clutched at the counter to prevent herself from falling. Her guests looked up from their meals. The quake settled and the murmur of conversation started up again.

Maddie bowed her head for a moment before going to pour a lavabush ale for Jax. She thought she might need one, too.

Delivery

by Kat Heckenbach -

Mary curled forward and squeezed with every muscle in her body. Her neck strained. A scream caught in her throat…escaped as a grunt.

And then release.

The pressure eased, and her muscles slid from her bones as she rolled back until her head smacked softly on the pillow. The distant cry of her newborn daughter was barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

Movement appeared, fuzzy, in her periphery. The fuzziness cleared and became a smiling, blonde nurse, with a nametag that read Amelia.

“She’s beautiful, Mary. They’re nearly done with the scan.”

Amelia barely had the words out when another nurse strode over to the delivery table. The woman’s face stretched under the force of severely pinned-back gray hair. She slapped a printout into Amelia’s hand and stalked off.

Amelia rolled her eyes, and then gazed at the paper. Her smile broadened. “Perfect, Mary. Not a single significant genetic fault. Your daughter is going to be smart and beautiful. Your husband…would be proud.” Amelia’s voice quivered, and Mary felt the gentle pressure of the nurse’s hand on her shoulder.

Mary nodded, and choked back a sob. Jax would have been proud no matter what. If only I’d had a chance to tell him he was going to be a father again.

The Trade

by Kat Heckenbach -

Jax crouched behind the rock, sweat dripping down his back. His hand twitched around the spear held tight against his shoulder. The familiar click-click was getting louder quickly; the bug was close.

He stiffened and adjusted his grip on the spear as he anticipated the appearance of the beast. When it sensed his presence, it would rise up on enormous black legs, giant pincers threatening. But the triangular section of tender underbelly would be exposed—for one critical moment. Jax breathed deeply to calm himself.

Nothing had quite prepared him for the life of a bug hunter. Back home on Avenir he’d been a businessman. Suits, ties, meetings with people of power. People with the kind of power he wanted, so much so that he’d been willing to do anything…

Even putting his family in danger.

Then that morning came. The enforcers barreled through his front door, and Jax was dragged out of his home, hands and legs shackled. The anger in his wife’s eyes had hurt. The fear in his children’s eyes had nearly killed him.

He didn’t have to think twice about the offer from the government. Tell all about everyone he’d been involved with, every detail of their crimes, and be set free on Eclectia. His death was faked to take his accomplices off his trail. Of course it meant giving up his family, but it ensured their safety.

The clicking intensified, jarring Jax out of his thoughts. Every muscle in his body tensed.

A roar erupted from the other side of the rock. Jax counted, one, two, three… He jumped to his feet and aimed as the creature reared up. The spear left his hand, arced over the rock…whoosh…and lodged into the exposed flesh. The giant beetle screeched and dropped straight down, shaking the earth beneath Jax’s feet.

He stared as the beautiful, dying beast twitched, its legs curling and scraping the rocky ground. Then he lifted his gaze skyward, tears burning the corners of his eyes.