Chapter Twenty-Six
A woman's gentle modulated voice wafted out the speakers of the shuttle cars.
This is a safety announcement from the staff at the HT-007 Inter-territory Shuttle System. Constant video recording is in effect for the security of both our staff and our passengers. We would like to remind patrons not to leave luggage or any belongings unattended. Abandoned belongings will be confiscated by security personnel and destroyed immediately without further notice.
The air was thick with the musky sweat, body odor, and tentacle secretions of traveling passengers. In the after-work rush hour, the light chatter and pleasantries were muffled by the rhythmic whoosh of the ISS zipping through the tunnels. Most passengers were quiet. They were exhausted from a day's work. Some stared blankly into space with dead eyes; they kept their hands idly folded in their laps. Others snored loudly in their seats or slept standing up, resting their heads on their arms as they steadied themselves with hanging straps.
Thiago loitered close to a door in a back of a congested car, leaning against a ridged wall. He was unprepared when the shuttle made an abrupt turn to the left. He collided with an Azkal next to him, who was already in a foul mood because his face had smashed against the ceiling. Thiago mumbled a quick apology and evaded the alien's six glowering eyes by tugging a hood over his head.
A lifetime of social skills left unpolished had resulted in the enhancement of Thiago's naturally agoraphobic tendencies. He couldn't recall the last time he had been aboard public transportation. With the notorious stigma and unabashed racism that followed half-humans, he had grown accustomed to keeping a low profile. It was impossible to feel safe in a crowd without his cloak, or, at the very least, a prosthetic disguise to conceal his nature.
Today, he opted to leave Hercules and his spaceship parked back at the campsite in case Eden decided to return. If he'd learned anything from their past disagreements, it was that it was best to keep himself at a distance until Eden's anger subsided on its own.
After a long period of contemplation, Thiago had enough sense to realize that even though he might not have been at fault, it appeared otherwise to Eden. Even though Eden exhibited a larger scope of moodiness than most of Thiago's other flings and one-night-stands, at the end of the day, she was the only female he had ever been with who eventually saw reason.
Next stop – the Land of the Fallen Cemetery. If your final destination is the cemetery, please disembark and proceed to Exit A or Exit B. If you wish to transfer to the Runic Territory line, change shuttles here.
Thiago squeezed through the crowds and out the open doorway of the shuttle. He exited the station and stopped at a corner store next to the cemetery. A friendly teenage girl manned the cramped booth in a threadbare coat patterned with illustrated shooting stars. She wore a mask that covered her nose and mouth.
Except for the snow-white scales that covered her body, the girl could almost pass for human. She had black waves of hair that stopped at her shoulders, and wide-set, brown eyes. Born half-Noxx, the orphan had been immediately disowned by society and forced into poverty.
She needed the money she made from the tiny booth to stay afloat. The young girl tended to her shop no matter what the weather conditions were, always displaying a cheerful disposition and a happy-go-lucky attitude that never went stale. Thiago purchased a pair of handmade pillar candles with sparkling moon rocks and blue seashells embedded into the orange wax. He left the girl speechless when he paid for the candles. Thiago was feeling generous and left an enormous tip.
Thiago proceeded through the unmanned gates of the cemetery. The massive graveyard was respectfully silent. Only a handful of visitors wandered through an area that housed over thirty thousand headstones. He headed directly toward a cluster of gravestones situated on the eastern side of the territory.
His solitary footsteps sounded disconcertingly loud against the stone footpath as he passed a sign over an archway. Letters were both missing or hanging on their hinges, but a newcomer could decipher the original words on the sign: Pacem Village Massacre Resting Ground.
Except for a few select graves, most of the burial ground lay in miserable conditions. Shriveled plants, incense stubs, and ashes covered abandoned tombstones. Thiago moved off the footpath and made his way through a grid pattern arrangement of graves. As he drew closer to a particular pair of joined headstones near the center of the fourth row, he slowed to a stop.
The twin tombstones of his parents looked freshly polished. The off-white marble shined like it had been made yesterday. Somebody had carefully swept old leaves to the side. A gem vase filled with a bouquet of cosmic orchids sat on the patch of grass in front of the headstones. The vibrant petals of the quirky purple and blue orchids sniffled with their persistent illness, adding a dynamic touch to the somber graves.
Thiago knelt on the ground and gazed at the miniature screens embedded on the tombstones above the engraved names and lifespan dates. Six-second scenes displayed in a permanent loop on the screens. The one on the left featured the face of a stern Arkadian man in his mid-fifties. An ill-tailored coat hung loosely over his translucent skin. It looked baked from constant exposure to the sun. The man's trimmed lampshade mustache wiggled like a baby caterpillar above his pursed lips. There were wrinkles around his eyes. It looked as if he were trying not to smile while somebody made silly faces in the background.
The screen on the right displayed an attractive human woman in her late forties. The Swedish woman's heavily teased hair ran a little over her defined collarbone. She had the same white-blond locks as her son. Her thick, side-swept bangs bobbed along with her as she laughed soundlessly, tilting her bouncing head back with careless gaiety.
Thiago unpacked his candles and set each one under a headstone. He lit them, using his hand to block out any unwanted drafts. The flames flickered on the wicks as they burned radiantly in contrast to the drearily lit cemetery. Shadows of the night lapped at the sides of Thiago's face. He folded his legs underneath him and sat rigidly still.
In beautiful solitude, the son kept his dead parents company for two hours before he finally left.
Thiago returned to his ship with enough food for two people and a smelly satchel bursting with assorted fish heads for Hercules. He had to juggle everything he was carrying to keep his bag upright in his left hand. At the same time, he balanced the flimsy bags in his right. All the packages were in danger of collapsing under the weight of the stacked seafood and tentacle wonton soup. As he approached the ship, the feeling of relief that should have naturally appeared at the sight of home never arrived. The only emotion he felt was the worry in his heart.
Hercules was going berserk. The creature ran around in erratic circles on the plot of land where Ardela had parked her spaceship. Thiago raced to the animal's side as quickly as possible, sacrificing what he was carrying. Sloshing soup escaped from overturned lids. Fish heads spun around in his satchel. His pet's mewling whimpers only came to a halt when Thiago arrived at the scene.
"Herc! What's the matter?"
Hercules arched his back and stamped his eight legs on the ground in reply. Thiago dumped the treats from his satchel onto the ground. The creature snapped his pincers, ignoring the mound of fish heads in front of him. Thiago frowned, his brows knitting as he tried to figure out what his pet wanted to communicate.
"You're not upset Ardela's gone, are you? You should be the happiest creature around."
Hercules shook his head angrily. He jerked his head to the left twice. He wanted his master to follow him. Thiago set his satchel and the bags of the remaining soup onto the ground. Scratching at the nape of his neck, he trailed after Hercules inquisitively.
"Where are we going, Herc? We can't mess around now. We need to get back to the ship in case Eden comes home."
Thiago's words faded as he saw something in the scorch marks on the gravel floor which indicated Ardela's recent departure. Hercules lowered his head and nudged a small spherical object in Thiago's direction. He crouched close to the ground to pick it up. A lump formed in his throat as he examined the object in his palms.
He was holding one of the trapped starlight earrings he'd given to Eden the night before the Katakee mission. Rubbing off the dirt caked around the clear glass of the globe, he twirled the post of the earring in his hands. Exhaling deeply, he rose from the ground, brushing off the grains of sand clinging to his pants.
"Let's go, Herc. Eden's not coming back. Ardela's taken her, and we need to bring her home."