Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Roshini lurked in the shadows outside the medic facility.
The moon on Cancri B was high in the cloudless sky, yet a long line of beings already waited for the place to open.
Roshini’s first reaction was to look for the fabric pattern that had been unique to her much-smaller home settlement. But none of those beings sported that handwoven cloth.
And part of her had known she wouldn’t see it.
After the Betrayal, the residents of her adopted home had scattered, disappearing into the numerous mountains. Gatherings were dangerous, they had learned.
They wouldn’t risk drawing the Invaders’ attention by joining a line. Even if they were hurting as the beings before her were.
Her gaze returned to the Cancri standing across the pathway from her.
The female used a scrap of cloth to wipe away the blood dripping from her infant’s nose.
Behind her, a female and a male leaned on each other for support. Both of their normally bright-orange Cancri countenances were ashen.
The elderly male next in line hunched over his steadying stick. He had a growth on the side of his neck visible the length of three land transports away. And he wheezed with every breath.
The sound was excruciating to listen to. Roshini swept one of her gloved hands over her cloth-covered midriff. The pain would be equally horrific.
None of those beings would have needed care if the Invaders hadn’t arrived. Her lips flattened. Soon, she and her team would drive that enemy and their illness-causing activities from their planet.
She circled the structure. The back door was locked as it always was. She inputted the 15-digit code into the control panel. The door opened and she entered the facility.
Only half of the overhead lighting was turned on. She navigated the empty hallways and walked into the chamber she’d utilized during the previous visit.
She knew the routine by now, and she stripped to her artificially-padded hips. Cool air swept over her bare chest. Her skin was coated in long-lasting pigment. The Invaders would believe her to be a Cancri humanoid female.
Sometime she forgot the natural color of her skin and who she truly was. She’d been shifting her appearance and changing her identify for too many solar cycles.
Cloth brushed against cloth. She grabbed one of her guns and turned.
“Put your weapons away.” Medic Cyra didn’t look up from her handheld as she walked into the space.
“I might not have been wielding a weapon.” Roshini holstered her gun.
The Cancris had no use for weapons. They were peace-loving beings.
That stance had changed with the enemy’s arrival.
Weapons and killing and violence were required now for survival.
“You’re always wielding a weapon.” Cyra studied her. “I like that hair.” She touched her own fabric-wrapped scalp. “If I had time to obtain a set for myself, I’d ask you where you sourced it.” She sighed. “But you must have viewed the long line of beings waiting to see me. I have no excess time for anything.”
“You can have this set.” Roshini touched the edge of the simulated hair near her right ear, and the set loosened. “Sanitize it first.” She removed it and placed it on a nearby horizontal support. “I rarely use the same hair twice when I visit this settlement.”
“You’re careful.” The medic glanced up at Roshini’s now-bare scalp. “In all areas. You applied the pigment even under the hair set.” She shook her head. “I should give you a lecture about how frequent usage of long-lasting pigment increases the chances of serious health issues, but that’s not a consideration now, is it? For either of us.”
Both of them would soon be dead. They’d be two of the countless victims of the Invaders’ lifespan-destroying activities.
The largest of Roshini’s tumors was growing in her stomach. She touched that part of her yet again, reassuring herself it wasn’t visible.
Cyra’s largest tumor was located in the back of her neck. It would be smaller than Roshini’s.
Because the medic hadn’t spent the time Roshini had spent close to the weapon the Invaders were building and the mining tunnels they were forcing the locals to work in.
“We’re humans.” Roshini had been the sole survivor of a ship crash. She’d been raised, from the age of four solar cycles to maturity, by an entire settlement.
The residents had welcomed her as they had welcomed the Invaders. It was the Cancri way.
And she hadn’t betrayed that trust.
Cyra’s story was different. She heard the planet badly needed medics and had relocated to Cancri B eight solar cycles ago, three solar cycles before the enemy arrived.
“Humans don’t live forever.” Roshini shrugged. She’d made her peace with dying when she chose to fight the Invaders.
“I’m seeking to ensure you live longer than your twenty-four solar cycles.” Cyra’s tone was dry. “What are your symptoms?”
“Nothing other than the hair and fingernail and toenail loss you told me to expect with the pills.” That had been tough emotionally to deal with. She had always worn hair sets. They were part of her many disguises. But she hadn’t realized how attached she’d been to her own hair and to her eyelashes. There was less of her now under the fake facades. “Oh, and I can’t keep down any nourishment in solid form.”
That had been another side effect.
“Taking it in liquid form helps with that.” Cyra pressed the handheld to Roshini’s stomach. “And I do mean liquified nourishment, not merely fermented beverage.”
“I only drink fermented beverage when I’m not flying.” And, as Roshini loved to fly, that wasn’t often.
“Hmmm…” Cyra frowned at the handheld’s small screen. “That can’t be right.” She pushed the device against Roshini’s stomach again.
“It isn’t good news.” Roshini said what the medic didn’t utter.
“It isn’t good news.” Cyra met her gaze. “The tumor has grown, and it shouldn’t have done that, not this early. The pills aren’t working as effectively as they should.” She tilted her head. “But how can that be? They were produced in the same batch as mine, and my tumor hasn’t grown.”
“It isn’t the pills.” Roshini flattened her palms once more over her stomach.
“What?” The medic’s forehead furrowed.
“It isn’t the pills.” Roshini suspected Cyra had heard her, yet she repeated her statement anyway.
Silence stretched.
“You stopped the testing of the machine, didn’t you?” Cyra asked quietly.
Roshini had sabotaged the trial run of the Invaders’ weapon. That had required extracting an essential part from it. And enduring the barrage of toxic emittances that giant machine radiated.
But she couldn’t tell the medic that. “It’s better for you if I don’t answer that question.”
If the Invaders interrogated Cyra, the female could truthfully tell them she didn’t know who had messed with their precious creation.
“I see.” And she could hear from Cyra’s tone, the medic did see. “There were 212 deaths that I heard about in this settlement alone during that testing. And every pregnant female patient I had went into immediate distress. There are 2 other settlements at the same distance or closer to the site. That doesn’t include the smaller clusters of domiciles. Whoever stopped that testing saved lifespans.”
“Whoever temporarily stopped that testing might have merely delayed those deaths.” When the testing resumed, those beings would die. Either quickly or slowly.
And that was the impact from merely the first weapon. She’d heard rumors that the Invaders would be building additional machines.
More and more Cancris would die until there was none of her adopted kind left.
Unless action, violent action, was taken.
“Then the testing has to be permanently stopped.” Cyra reached that same conclusion. The medic’s gaze locked with hers. “I’m ready when you are.”
“I need time.” The Invaders were looking for the being who had sabotaged the testing. Roshini preferred to wait until they relaxed their guard to strike at them again. “How much of it do I have?”
“You have less time than you previously had.” The medic tapped her fingertips against the surface of her handheld, looked closely at the small screen, scowled and tapped some more. “Assuming the pills are given an opportunity to work properly again—” She frowned fiercely at Roshini. “—and they stop the growth, you should have at least ninety-five planet rotations until you go into the final stages.”
During the final stages, the tumor would be visible. She wouldn’t be able to hide it from the Invaders. And her energy levels would plummet.
Both were needed for the Plan.
“Then we wait for ninety-five planet rotations.” It would give her time to complete all the necessary arrangements.
“We wait for ninety-five planet rotations.” Cyra nodded. Her tone held a sadness Roshini felt. “What will you do?”
“I’ll prepare and organize the others.” They wouldn’t be the only beings making the sacrifice. Driving the Invaders from their planet would require entire teams. “Fly fast. Feel the wind on my face.” She smiled. “And you?”
“I’ll treat as many beings as I can, using the credits a mysterious benefactor left in my working chambers.” Cyra smiled back at her.
“That mysterious benefactor knew you’d use the credits to heal others.” Roshini redistributed some of her portion of the profits from the ships and machinery and other items she stole. She had no need for excess wealth.
“One new message received,” a robotic male voice announced.
Roshini reached for her gun.
Then she stopped.
The clipped tones had come from Cyra’s handheld, not from a living being.
Fates. She felt foolish.
“Your team is all female.” She covered up her embarrassment with gruffness. “Other than him.” She gestured to the device. “You could change the voice.”
“I don’t have the time to figure all that out.” The medic shrugged. “And tech isn’t my thing. Saving lifespans has always been my focus.” She stared at the far wall for one, two, five heartbeats. “I thought I’d prevent the most deaths in this universe by healing the ill. That’s why I became a medic. But it seems my final act will benefit the most beings.”
“Being a medic is necessary for that final act.” Roshini had assigned the second part of the Plan to Cyra, as it required at least one being with healing skills.
The first part would be completed by a different set of beings. They didn’t know about Cyra. And Cyra didn’t know about them.
That decreased the odds of betrayal. And it doubled their chances of success.
“And it will save thousands of lifespans.” Roshini pulled her garments upward and fastened them.
The Plan was her way of making a difference, of repaying the Cancris for opening their hearts and their homes to a scared little girl who had lost everyone she’d known.
It wouldn’t be her first attempt to settle that emotional debt.
During the Betrayal, when the Invaders had lined up everyone in her settlement, including her, and demanded they choose one being to die, to serve as an example, she had stepped forward, thinking that would be her opportunity to show her gratitude.
But the Invaders had laughed at her. She was a female and, in their primitive culture, that made her worthy of nothing, except being the recipient of brutal fucking and other humiliating abuse.
The Cancri male they targeted was gentle and kind and good. He had treated Roshini as he treated his sisters. And she loved him as she imagined a sister would love a brother.
He had accepted his fate bravely, with strength and resolve.
She and his sisters, his mother, his father, and the other residents of the settlement were then forced to watch in horror as that beloved male was killed. The humans they had, moments ago, warmly welcomed, the strangers they had generously given beverage and nourishment, riddled his face and body with projectiles.
They had been told, if any of them fought back, if any of them moved, they’d all be killed, every male, female, child. Not even the babies would be spared.
And they knew, by the gleam in the Invaders’ eyes and the glee in their voices, the enemy wouldn’t hesitate in that slaughter.
So they stood silently, stunned and in shock, grieving and confused.
The horror, however, had only begun.
Before the Invaders left, one of them grabbed Roshini by the hair and told her they would be back. The males would be sent to the mining tunnels, where they would work until they died. The females, including and especially her, the sole human, would be used. Thoroughly. Roughly. In a variety of vile ways.
The residents of the settlement dispersed that rest cycle. A couple of the families had offered to take Roshini with them. But she couldn’t risk their lifespans by accepting.
She’d seen the attention her being human had garnered.
Now she would use her unique situation to drive the Invaders from their planet. They wouldn’t suspect a betrayal from one of their own kind.
Especially not from, what they viewed as, a weak, useless female.
Roshini’s lips curled upward.
“Do I want to know what you’re thinking?” Cyra narrowed her eyes at her.
“No.” And Roshini preferred not to talk about it. “I’ll have extra pills.” Since she wouldn’t live as long as they originally expected. “I’ll leave them in your working chambers.”
There wouldn’t be a next appointment. It would be too risky.
“There’s no need to leave them anywhere.” The medic waved her right hand. “I haven’t located a medic to take over here.” Her lips twisted. “It seems no one wants to live in a place that’ll kill them within a couple of solar cycles.”
“That will change.” Roshini hoped that would be the truth. “I should go.”
The longer she stayed in the facility, the higher the probability she’d draw the enemy there.
She moved toward the door.
Then she paused. “Thank you, Cyra, for… everything you have done and will do. The beings waiting outside are there because your presence gives them hope. You’re making and will continue to make a difference.”
“I could say the same to you.” The medic summoned a smile. “Though few beings will ever realize they owe some of their hope and all of their futures to you.”
Roshini’s face heated. She preferred the anonymity. It kept everyone safer, including herself.
She slipped out of the chamber, moved along the hallway, and exited the facility by the same door she’d entered.
The moon was still high in the sky. The line streaming from the front doors had grown longer. The elderly male was now sitting on the rock-covered ground. Someone had covered his shoulders with a blanket. The female with the baby rocked back and forth while softly singing a Cancri lullaby. The tears glistening on her cheeks reflected the light from the burning torches erected along the pathway.
Roshini wanted to help them. But that wasn’t her role. It was Cyra’s.
And if she contacted anyone, she could put them in danger.
She gazed at the beings for a moment, noting every face, and then she turned and ran silently and surely through the settlement.
There was no need for lights. She knew every pathway. And the shadows and the moonlight were her friends. She?—
“What are we looking for, again?” A male voice, speaking in the universal language, sliced through the silence.
Roshini pressed her form against the exterior of a structure. And she listened. Any intel she gathered might help the cause. It might assist in the Plan.
“The fuck I know.” A second male responded. “One of them acting suspiciously? They can’t give us a fuckin’ description. ‘Cause all those orange fuckers look alike.”
Each Cancri was unique.
But the invaders didn’t see that. All they saw was the orange skin and the black hair.
Roshini touched her pigment-coated cheeks. That made fooling the enemy much easier.
“They think one of the Cancri males fucked up the top-secret project none of us are supposed to know anything about.” The second male snorted. “Like those orange fuckers have the brains to pull that off.”
The Invaders were so damn arrogant. She curled her top lip. They viewed the peace-loving, simple-living Cancris as being their inferiors.
The opposite was true. The locals had evolved past the need for weapons and war.
Roshini crept closer to the males.
A Cancri family had placed small rock sculptures honoring each of the three Fates outside their domicile. The Invaders had sat their disrespectful asses down on the carved heads of two of them.
Her disgust increased.
“Then who do you think messed it up?” The first male, the shorter of the two invaders, looked up at the other male. He clutched his long gun with both of his hands.
Both of them wore uniforms sporting Humanoid Alliance patches.
“I’m thinking it was the Syndiculs.” The second male named the beings on Syndiculous 5, a planet within their sector, as the culprits. “But that’s just a hunch.”
It was a hunch based on the Syndiculs being human.
Roshini shook her head.
“And I’m keeping that to my fuckin’ self.” The second male unfastened the top of a beverage container and took a swig from it. “If our leaders want us to rough up some orange fuckers, I ain’t saying no to that.” The grin he gave the other male exuded a stomach-churning maliciousness. “And if some of those orange fuckers we rough up end up dead at the bottom of a pit somewhere, I ain’t talking about that to no one neither.”
The other male laughed.
He laughed at the prospect of killing innocent Cancris.
Roshini bent and touched the dagger hidden in her left boot. The temptation to draw the weapon and throw it was tremendous.
Her aim would be true. And one of the males would be dead.
She would be glad of that ending. They were vile.
But killing the males would only draw more attention to the settlement and bring more punishment onto its inhabitants. And it might put the Plan, both parts of it, in jeopardy.
She straightened and forced herself to move to the right, away from the two males.
They had disrespected the Fates. Those deities would seek retribution.
If they deemed Roshini worthy of participation in the doling out of that justice, the two males would be stationed near the Invaders’ precious weapon when she blew it up.
They would then be the beings roughed up .
Roshini’s chin lifted as she ran faster.