Fight
Talen groaned. He touched his forehead, his fingers coming back slick with blood. Whatever had struck him had opened the old scar above his eye, a souvenir of his initiation into the Runak Warriors.
The Kroot loomed over him, the stolen bolas whirling in a clawed hand. So that’s what had hit him.
The alien brought back its arm, ready to send the stones lashing down again. Talen rolled to his left, the heavy balls crashing into the floor. That had nearly been his skull!
Talen kicked out, but the alien was ready for him. It caught his leg and swung Talen around as if he were a slab of meat. He smashed into a storefront and dropped back down to the ground, gasping for breath. He forced himself to crawl forwards and cried out in pain as the bolas slammed down onto his back.
‘Dirty human cub,’ the alien hissed above him. ‘Teach you to mess with Korok!’
Talen couldn’t get away. He could barely breathe. And yet even now, he could hear his father’s voice in the back of his mind. This is why we destroy the alien. This is why we wipe them out. It’s kill or be killed, son. No concessions. No compromise.
Korok snarled as it pulled back to deliver another blow… and was knocked flying by a ball of orange fur.
The bolas clattered to the ground, inches from Talen’s aching head. He forced himself to look up. The Kroot was down, being pummelled by long arms. It was Fleapit! The Jokaero had launched himself at Korok and was punishing the Kroot, teeth bared and hairy fists flying.
‘Talen!’ Zelia ran up, dropping down beside him. ‘You’re bleeding.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he said, pushing her hand away, never taking his eyes off the fight. Korok was reaching for the discarded bolas. Talen grabbed for the leather cords, snatching the weapon from the Kroot’s reach. Korok roared in frustration and lashed out with a bony elbow, catching Fleapit in the head. Fleapit was knocked back and Korok rolled on top, pulling at the Jokaero’s fur. Talen went to help, but Zelia held him back.
‘Talen, don’t. You’ll get hurt.’
‘We can’t just stand by and–’
The rest of his sentence was lost as an energy bolt whizzed over them, slamming into Korok. The Kroot was thrown from Fleapit and skidded on the floor before lying still.
Talen whirled around but stumbled, suddenly dizzy. Zelia grabbed him, keeping the ganger on his feet as they stared at the human who had fired the shot.
It was a man, with a haughty expression on his lined face and a bulky beamer in his hand. He was tall and thin, wearing a silk shirt over dark trousers, his hair balding and his cheeks cavernous.
‘Well, well, well,’ he said, pale eyes dropping to rest on Fleapit. ‘What have we here?’
‘Leave him alone,’ Zelia said, jumping forwards to put herself between the beamer and the Jokaero.
The man chuckled, lowering his weapon. ‘As if I would harm such a prize specimen.’
Talen felt Zelia bristle. ‘He’s not a specimen. He’s our friend.’
The smile on the man’s lips faltered. ‘Careful, child. We may be on the edge of Imperial space, but there are many still loyal to the Emperor and his teachings. They won’t take kindly to the suggestion that humans and aliens can be friends.’
Zelia opened her mouth but didn’t get the chance to argue. Korok reared up behind them, teeth bared. The stranger’s beamer flared again, hitting Korok in the shoulder. The Kroot spun on its heel before tumbling back to the ground, wailing as it clutched its wounded arm.
‘See what I mean?’ the man said as he brought his weapon down to point at the alien’s head. ‘Crawl back to where you came from, xenos. There’s nothing for your kind here.’
Korok bared its teeth but scurried away, disappearing into the crowd who had gathered to watch the fight.
The tall man returned his gaze to Zelia and Talen. ‘So tell me – who are you? What are children doing on Hinterland?’
‘We are with Captain Harleen Amity of the Profiteer,’ a voice rang out behind him. The man turned to see Mekki running up to them, his servo-sprite buzzing after him.
He chuckled. ‘By the Emperor. Two younglings, a Jokaero, and now…’ His eyes glinted with amusement. ‘What exactly are you? An initiate into the tech-priesthood?’
Mekki thrust his chin in the air. ‘I am an explorator.’
The man’s chuckle turned into a laugh. ‘Are you now? Well, I’d heard that poor Harleen had fallen on hard times, but to employ children as her crew…’
Zelia’s hands balled into fists. ‘We’re not her crew. We hired her.’
The man’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Hired her? To do what exactly? What in the name of the Throne could you want with a rogue trader of Harleen’s… character?’
If Zelia heard the smirk in the man’s voice, she didn’t react to it. ‘We’re looking for one of her contacts. A man with information we require.’
‘And you’ve found him, more’s the pity.’
Amity strode up behind Mekki, her hand riding the hilt of her sword. She stopped beside the Martian, tapping the brim of her hat in greeting.
‘Hello, Karter. Long time no see.’