Chapter 20
Supernova
//
SPATIAL
CHECK //
>
DATE:
16.03.7088
>
TIME:
19:15:58
UST
(UNIVERSAL
STANDARD TIME)
// LOCATION TRIANGULATION //
>
SYSTEM:
INTERSTELLAR
SPACE
>>
BODY: nil
>>>
SETTLEMENT:
WAYSTATION #0085
>>>>
LOCAL: THE
LOTUS ROOT
Az
coughed, wiping the corn liqueur from his chin as the woman gripped
the counter.
Jake
thumped his back, shocked and confused, while Carla watched with
open-mouth wonder.
“Wait,”
‘Melinda’
spoke
breathlessly. “I’m a guest of the Lotus. A
Root
named
Tim
invited me.”
The
bartender paused, its alien circuitry whirring as it processed the
request. The android looked almost offended by the low-level
name-drop.
“I am
unable to verify ‘Tim’ without a family name,” the robot
droned, its voice devoid of sympathy. “Furthermore, a ‘Root’
rank does not have authority to recommend asylum for guests or tab
credit. Please vacate the premises.”
Boron
reached out a scratched
enamelled
hand to guide her away. The
woman
swayed, her grip on the bar slipping.
“Wait,
wait!”
she gasped, her voice thready. “He said...he said Lotus protects
its
assets.”
“Yes,
and you are a liability,” it
corrected coldly.
“Hold
up, Boron!” Jake almost launched out of his seat, a wide smile on
his face. Az tried
to murder the man with his eyes, glaring an
imaginary hole into his back.
Carla had
her hands covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking as her eyes were
fixed on Az.
“She’s with me,
Striker
Jake.”
“Understood,
Striker Jake. Guest
is under custody of Blackthorn One’s command.”
Bartender Boron withdrew
his hand, its
ocular sensors zooming in on the
booth
before fixating back on Jake.
“Please advise the guest that shoes are a requirement at this
establishment.”
“Will
do, barkeep!” Jake saluted, coming up behind ‘Melinda’ and
placing his hands on her arms, guiding her gently off the bar stool
and towards their booth. Realising
she was leaning against him, he held more firmly around her upper
arms.
He muttered under his breath as he glanced at the android. “Damn,
tight-ass, creepy bastard.”
He
steered Melinda to sit in his seat, next to Az who was sitting with
his hand over the
lower part of his face,
facing
the wall.
Jake
poked Carla’s thigh to
make
her scoot over in
the opposing booth seat, sliding in and grinning broadly at the
uncomfortable couple.
Melinda
was sweaty and pale, her
back glued against the seat’s backing, her head held stiffly in
place. She
had her eyes shut tight, lips set in a firm, pale line; her breathing
was a series of measured, desperate counts.
Jake
leaned his chin on his hands, looking from Az (who was currently
trying to merge with the wall) to the shivering, sweat-soaked woman.
She
looked for all intents and purposes, like
a
junkie escaped from rehab.
Jake’s
voice dripped with the kind of mock awe that made Az’s jaw ache.
“So,” he
began,
taking
a wild guess.
“This is the Supernova? The Space
Captain?”
Carla let
out a squeak, biting her fist. “She’s certainly... burning hot.
She really cleaned up that night!”
“She
smells like a sewer, Yōuhún,”
Jake whispered loudly. “I
thought you liked them clean. Did you get mixed up at the sanitation
plant?”
Az didn’t
answer. He couldn't. He was too busy mentally calculating the odds of
surviving the Station Guards and how pissed Leadership would
be if he simply murdered all witnesses present.
Next
to him, Melinda
gave
a short moan,
shifting
in her seat.
She blinked, trying to clear the fog in her eyes, and turned her head
slowly to
look
at the occupants sharing the booth.
Her
eyes took in the jet-black mohawk of Jake, the cyborg with a metal
arm, then to Carla’s laughing form, who was similarly clutching her
abdomen, her
eyes lingering on the artificial arm and eye.
She
turned her head to her right, staring
at the back of a
dark
leather jacket, a
lotus flower branded into it.
She stared at the brown,
floppy
hair.
Az
turned slightly and offered her a tight smile, meeting
her eyes. There
was no spark of recognition or memory. She
turned back to Jake. Az’s
tight smile faltered, a flicker of something - hurt, or perhaps just
disbelief - crossing his face before he masked it again. She didn't
even register him; she just looked through him as if he were a
ghost—an earthy-scented shadow she didn't have the energy to name.
“Did
you... raid a salvage yard, Jake?” she rasped, her
eyes raking once more over the patchwork arm.
“Who are your friends? Are they here for a
payout too?”
Az
slumped, burying his face in his hands as he
waited
for his world
to
implode.
She
gave
him a quick glance before diverting her attention back to Jake.
“Look, I appreciate you helping me.”
She looked around the rest of the pub with difficulty, checking all
the faces of
those still inside the pub.
“I
already
made a deal with
Tim, he said that-”
She
was suddenly cut
off by
raucous laughter.
“My
sides! Help!” Carla bit out between her cackling. “My scars
are going to split
open!
She thinks you’re
a Grunt!
She’s so looped she couldn’t
even see the black
Lotus on your back!”
Jake
couldn’t even lift himself off the table. “Actually
remembered
name, but she doesn’t know his!”
The
laughter kept going, filling the table while Az stared
both
of them down
with the intensity of a dying star.
The
pale woman adopted a rather unimpressed scowl at
the two Strikers across the table,
running her bottom lip through her teeth. She
leaned as far from the trembling table as possible, making sure her
hands were gripping the edges of her stable seat.
“Are they usually
like this?”
“Yes.”
Az said without hesitation, his teeth clenched. He shifted in his
seat slowly, making sure not to send any vibrations or sudden
movements. “Always.”
“Oh,
this is rich,” the Striker
wheezed. “This is pure, unrefined platinum.
‘The Supernova.’ ‘Fun night.’ And she’s looking at you like
you’re some
waiter
she forgot to tip! Carla,
take a picture! Use your eye!”
“I
hate you,” Az said flatly. “I hate you both. I’m putting
in a formal complaint
a transfer.”
“No you
won’t, you us-” Carla eventually started wincing,
tears of pain running down her cheeks. “Oh-kay nope. Painkillers,
now. Ow ow ow.”
Jake
let himself chuckle for a few seconds
more before reaching down for Carla’s bag. Melinda’s
eyes were glued to the little wafers Jake passed on to the
pink-haired cyborg. She swallowed heavily, looking back towards the
door.
“So
...”
Az tried to cut the silence, and any further laughter, by trying to
catch her attention. She ignored him, her face getting paler. Jake
and Az spared each other a glance before Az tapped her on the
shoulder.
She
jerked at the touch, snapping
her eyes back to Az. “Huh?
Oh right, Melinda. That’s me. What was the question?”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Carla
and
Jake both snorted into their fists. Both fighting another wave of
laughter.
All
Az could do was
rub his face, mumbling into his palms. “...such a bad
fucking day.”
“Oh Az!
Void take me, this is amazing!” Jake said, wiping tears from his
eyes. “Payback. Payback for all those times, you jackass!”
“Az?”
Mel parroted, looking over at the deflated
man next to her. “Az the Dark Lotus merc?”
“Yeah,
that’s me. Hi, Melinda.”
Az rested his cheek against his fist, his brow knotted into an
all too
familiar
scowl.
“If that’s even your real na- OW!”
Mel
jabbed him in the side with something blunt, her own face contorting
into a mask of agony. She
didn’t let go, though.
He looked down and she had just rammed the butt of a screwdriver into
his ribs. “The fuck-?!”
“Give it
back, you asshole!” she whisper-shouted, grabbing at his jacket. “I
know you have it. Give it to me!”
“I
don’t have it on me!” Az defended himself, holding
both her wrists under
the table and away from his ribs. He ignored
Carla’s gleeful expression, and
her muttered ‘I knew it!’.
“Where
the fuck did you-Don’t
you dare
try
to stab me-”
The
front doors didn’t just slam open this time — they shuddered, one
hinge catching like it had been kicked from the wrong angle. The
scuffle at the table stopped. Mel
lurched sideways towards
the edge of the booth,
a sharp gasp catching in her throat as she clutched her midsection,
her face turning a sickly shade of grey.
Jake stopped chuckling,
and Az’s eyes flicked to the commotion. His
posture subtly shifted.
“Fucking
finally,” she called out, slipping
her screwdriver back in her pants pocket.
Tim
stumbled in like a man who thought swagger could hide the fact he had
no idea what he was doing. His shirt was half?tucked, his
plasma pistol jammed into his waistband at an angle that suggested
he’d shot himself once and hadn’t learned from it. His nose was
red, not from drink tonight
but from picking a fight he didn’t win. A server droid swerved
sharply to avoid him, its mono?wheel squealing.
He
didn’t notice. He never did.
“Sorry,
I’m late,” he announced, loud enough to make three patrons
flinch. He strutted toward the booth like he owned the place. “The
hero always takes his time.”
“I
have a broken rib that says otherwise, you
fucking merc.” Melinda snapped back, her hands curled tightly into
fists. Her knuckles were white. “Give me the meds now. Payment
after I see them.”
Az’s
pupils constricted slightly, his head tilting back to rest against
the wall. He watched Tim carefully, his eyes flat. Jake noticed,
pulling back from the table and lowering
his
hands below the table. He loosely held his metal wrist with his
normal hand. Not watching Tim, but watching Az. The
mirth had completely dissipated.
“I
only tripped over you, ungrateful bitch.”
Tim
raised
a hand as if to hit her, but instead laughed at her flinch at the
action. He rummaged in one of his pockets, then
threw an injector onto the table, smirking darkly. Carla
picked up on Jake’s posture, following his gaze and seeing Az’s
head tilt. Her face paled. “Here you go, .”
“I
fucking paid for anony- Where’s
the Stabiliser?”
‘Miss
Cabot’
grasped the grey injector, giving Tim the up and down.
“You paid
for a distraction and one med.” Tim snarled in her face. “You
want the Major Supp? Then you pay what I say. Or you crawl back to
whatever vent you came out of.”
“What?!
-
That was not
the deal-”
Mel’s
hand disappeared into her pocket, no doubt grasping the screwdriver
but her body would not let her go further than rise
to her feet, her arm trembling with the exertion of holding her
weight up. Her
face went slack, her eyes unfocused as something inside her
body
snapped.
Az’s
fingers tapped once against the table.
Jake
inhaled sharply. Carla’s eyes flicked to Az’s hand, then to Tim,
then back again. Two
other agents across the room stood immediately, tapping the tables of
the port workers and other strangers, moving them silently along and
out of the tavern.
Tim
kept talking, not
noticing the movements behind him.
“Look,
sweetheart, I’m doing you a favour. You think anyone else is
gonna—”
“Tim.”
The voice
cut
across the table like a
whip, Jake levelled
a cold glare at the grunt.
“Give the
the meds she ordered.
You made a deal. Follow
it through.”
Tim
glared
at the two Strikers to his left. Az
reached out, his hand wrapping around Melissa’s wrist as she
trembled
on her feet.
He felt her fever through her sleeve - she was burning up. He pulled
her back into the seat, his eyes locked on the grunt who
had not registered
him, yet.
“Look,
kid, I’m working here. I made a deal and I’m following through,
but-”
“But
nothing.” Carla spoke this time, schooling
her expression into cool indifference but her nerves were betrayed by
the white knuckle fist she was hiding behind her elbow.
“Give her the meds.
Get paid. Get out. You’re
giving Dark Lotus a bad name.”
Tim’s
jaw clenched.
His eyes flicked between the three of them, confusion dawning — not
fear, not yet, just the dim awareness that he’d misread the room.
Then
he finally
made
eye contact with Az, who
didn’t blink. Gone
was the feigned
humiliation
and annoyance, in its place was cold, calculated murder.
“Now.”
Az said
softly.
Tim
gulped
audibly, muttering a “Yes,
sir”
before
he fished
the other medication out of his deep pocket.
Mel
almost launched herself onto the green
and silver
injector, reading the label with squinted
eyes
and
mouthing ‘Maior’ before
tossing a damaged
credit
chip onto the table. She leaned forward in pain, her
forehead touching the table top, hiding
her expression.
Tim
pocketed
the chip,
trying to slip it in his pocket before fumbling and almost dropping
it,
a
bead of sweat gathering on his forehead as he avoided Az’s glare.
“Dark
Lotus appreciates your business,
Miss
Cabot.
Don’t die.” He
turned
on his heel, muttering under his breath. “Nightshade my ass…
guy’s barely older
than my
kid...”
Carla
turned to Jake,
mouthing ‘Melissa
Cabot?’
while
Az kept his attention on the retreating grunt, before
signalling Boron with a jerk of his chin. Boron nodded in
understanding, shooing a server droid away from Tim and taking its
place. Its
full attention centred on the Root.
Melissa
wasn’t paying attention. She was curled in on herself, her foot
stomping hard against the ground as she failed to breathe through the
pain. She was cursing under breath. “Fuck. FuckFUCK.”
She
finally peeled her arm away
from
her
abdomen,
pushing herself upright before pulling down her hoodie to expose her
shoulder. She placed the green
and silver
injector
against her skin and took three deep breaths before pressing the
button to launch the needle.
It
activated with a click.
Melissa
gasped, her
body jerking then arching
backwards as her eyes unfocused at the ceiling. She
took deep, gasping breaths as if readying herself. Her face already
pained, deepened into an agonised, soundless scream, tucking her face
away from the rest of the room. There were some who were openly
staring.
Az
slid closer, his hands hovering as if wanting to touch but not sure
how.
In
Melissa’s other hand, she held the grey injector in a death grip.
One
heartbeat.
Two heartbeats.
Three.
A high
pitched whine started down in her chest before she slammed the next
injector into her neck. Her scream stopped dead. She sighed out a
breath she was holding in. “Ouch, itchy little shits. Not as bad as
the first time,” she gasped out.
“First
time? Ok,
now
I need to ask. What the fuck is going on?” Carla cut in, the table
fully sober, watching
Az subtly flinch back now that Melissa seemed fine.
Melissa
winced, a grey pallor washing
out
her skin. “Oh you know. Another
organ
transplant, slight
rejection, happens.
I didn’t get the full deets before I left.”
“Left
what?!” Carla asked
in a
horrified whisper,
fully taking in the woman in front of them, her voice breaking. “The
?!
You
were Liberated, too?!”
Melissa
turned a baleful, calculating
eye that
seemed to be shining too bright
back to the scowling merc next to her. “Not that it’s any of your
business. Now. Az the Merc.”
She held out her hand. “Hand
it over.
If
you please.”
Carla
and Jake shared a look, both of their jaws once again open. The
combative, assured
woman
a
complete transformation from the junkie lookalike from before.
“You’re
bleeding,” Az said softly, his eyes hard.
“Pulled
some stitches in
the vents.
Stop changing the subject. Give
it to me.”
“The
fuck is wrong with you?!” Az snapped, pulling her closer and
lifting the hem
of the hoodie,
which
was three
times her size. His
touch stiff and appraising, his eyes raking over not her skin but the
dressings.
The bandages wrapped around her middle were grey
with dust, a large red stain slowly expanding
as
droplets of blood leaked
into the
waistband of her
pants.
Her
hands were shaking, but she still weakly
gripped his wrists.
“Asshole,
don’t touch me!
I’m going to be fine, the nanites will stop the bleeding… in…
twenty
minutes.”
Melissa swayed on the spot, her face turning ashen. “I think.”
“Nanites?!
Without
a controller?!”
Az hoarsely whispered, looking
down at the grey injector then looking
around
the rest of the bar.
There were only a handful of people left, and they were all looking
until
they caught him glaring in their directions.
“Are you fucking insane?! They’ll
eat any augments you have!”
“I know
how this works,” she slurred, her eyes losing focus. “It’s not
my first time.”
“What
exactly?!
The
transplant or the nanites?!”
Carla cut in, shoving Jake to move out the way. “Void
take me, I thought
you were just an addict on
a bad trip!”
“No
more fucking party drugs.
I’m just...withdrawing
from
life. I
was...this is my sixth.”
Melissa said, her body leaning sideways against the back of the
booth. “It..feels so squishy this
time.”
Her eyes
fluttered, rolled, then went glassy. Az caught her before her skull
hit the table, her weight limp and burning hot against his chest.
The
grey injector finally slipped from her numb fingers, clattering onto
the seat. Jake and Carla’s expressions turning into the stone-cold
masks of Strikers as they moved to shield the booth from any
lingering prying eyes.
Az
looked down at the unconscious woman, her head lolling against his
shoulder, then at the green
and silver
injector she had dropped on the floor.
“Maior,”
Az whispered,
as
if rolling the term on his tongue, he
flicked his eyes to his teammates and Boron who had silently
reappeared.
Speaking
softly, the whole room still
heard
him,
people
moving before he finished speaking.
“Clean
up. Nothing
happened.”
