Epilogue

Outer Reaches. Geonate New Time, Year 2402

Walking between the two inseparable friends Ivan and Gregory, Ritter was downright jealous. He’d been stuck with them since they’d hauled the limping shuttle in, revived Ritter, and bundled the human woman, Treena, off somewhere. The captain had made it out, somehow.

As soon as the Firewalker had word of the captain’s return, the Stealth and all of the mimics had withdrawn, disappearing within moments.

Since then, for the past few hours, they’d left him to his own honor to behave himself. He’d never known he had honor before today, but he’d held to his end of the bargain and waited aboard the small shuttle, waiting for an escort. He’d face their leader’s judgement and sentence. One man would decide his fate with no recourse. It was a better fate than he’d ever hoped to have.

When two of the phoenix returned for him, they were surprised to see him right where they had left him, and it galled him a little that once he’d sworn, they’d just assumed he’d renege. But then, they still didn’t understand the difference between himself and a mimic. Perhaps they never would.

After only a few minutes, the easy camaraderie between the two made him clench his teeth. He’d never had a friend—or a lover for that matter, only mutually agreed upon rutting. The only constant in his life had been his mother—but sometime over the last hour her hold on her consciousness had faded to nothing. Perhaps it was best she passed on, because there was no way for her to heal. If his eyes stung when he thought of her, it was only a temporary weakness. It’d fade, too.

“So, Ritter, can I call you Ritt?”

“Ivan likes to shorten names, but I have no idea why. Maybe because he’s too dumb to remember longer names?”

“Greg here is too uptight.”

“Ritt is fine.” He couldn’t help but smile because they seemed younger than he’d ever been.

The entire ship was excited, full of victory, the women of the Venture abuzz with wonder and relief at all of the excitement. The undercurrents of concern were there as well. For good reason.

They were still in the cargo bay, ready to go back to their ship, the Firewalker, but they seemed to be delaying. He didn’t feel he was in a position to ask their plans for him, but he was impatient to get on with it.

The door slid open, and he understood. The voluptuous women he knew to be First Officer Tarasova walked in, and he could feel the currents in the room shifting, two were red hot, blistering. The other, open admiration and friendship. The blush along the cheekbones of Ivan was no surprise.

So. Interesting development. They weren’t mated, but unless he missed his guess, they’d shared a bed.

“You boys heading out?” Her voice shook, and the lights in the room flickered. Even more interesting. It seemed that Ivan-boy had some residual emotion, and it surged enough to impact the electrical systems.

“Yeah,” Gregory was the one to respond, as Ivan’s lips pressed together in a thin line, mute. “We need to take Ritter to the Firewalker for further questioning.”

She glanced at Ivan, then down at her feet. Ritter couldn’t guess what she saw in the cargo bay, the lights were dim. Dimmer than they had been, and the cages gave it a sterile feel. Everything was clean, shiny with a metallic scent. When he had arrived, the ship had been cold, the air damp, but now it was suddenly hot, no doubt due to Ivan’s currents that were nearly scorching Ritter.

This will be quite a change, from emotionless drones with an overwhelming stench, to the sweet upheavals of life. He could smell Len’s desire from across the room where she had halted at the door.

“Well, I suppose we’ll see you at dock, then, huh?” Len’s eyes began to mist and all three men tensed. Ivan’s current was trembling, and his fists clenched at his side. Gregory jumped forward and covered the distance to the door in a heartbeat, enveloping the small woman in a large hug. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, but of course, Ritter could hear it, and he assumed Ivan could as well.

“We’ll see you soon.”

Len ripped away from him and ran out the door.

Throughout his entire life, he’d seen his mother’s constant grieving, and his own constant anger, but never had he seen such devotion, friendship, and sadness. His entire body was rigid, his stomach hollow, and he’d broken into a cold sweat. He was going to have to get a handle on this, or be bombarded.

Ivan still hadn’t spoken, but Gregory walked back and gave his friend a small smile. Gregory began to disrobe.

“Let’s go. They’ll have a uniform or something for you when we get there.”

The three of them shifted and flowed through the shell of the ship.

In no time, they were in an office on the Firewalker, Ritter dressed in civilian clothes of soft material, much like the utilitarian jumpers humans wore on station. He was surrounded by phoenix in human form holding disruptors.

“I’m Leader Torrin.”

The man was imposing. Seven feet tall, if an inch, towering over him. His dark features matched his dark coloring, jet black hair, bushy eyebrows meeting together over his sharp nose and determined mouth. His eyes were almost black with the faintest of red on the outline. Mated.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Mimics don’t usually cooperate, so it’s usually the hard way, but we’ve never had one surrender before.”

“I’m not a mimic.”

Torrin snorted. “So I’ve heard.”

“I’ll take the easy way.”

“Thought as much. I’ve decided to give you quarters and some amount of freedom, but you’ll be on curfew. You’ll be confined to certain decks, and you’ll report for debriefing every day.”

Snapping his fingers, one of his men put a bracelet in his hand. “This is a confinement device. You’ll be unable to attain energy form, it’ll track your movements, and limit you to approved areas.”

Ritter took it from him, slipping the cool yellow band around his left wrist as it shrank to fit snuggly against his skin. All currents around him abruptly stopped, the energy he had monitored his entire life going completely silent. Feeling panic, he gripped the band and tugged, but it remained. Swallowing hard, he felt as if he were in a tunnel, everything muffled and silent.

“Nasty, isn’t it?” Torrin looked at him with amusement. No sympathy from that quarter, but the man’s reaction grounded Ritter, reminding him of his place, that he had killed their kind all his life. He could take this as punishment for his crimes, but he hoped it didn’t last long. He had to gain their trust, if only to get this bracelet off.

Torrin looked at Ivan and Gregory, raising his eyebrows at whatever he saw in their expressions. “Gregory, take Ritter to his quarters, show him where to get grub, all that. Ivan, you’re with me.”

Used to large ships, Ritter was nevertheless lost in the maze of the Firewalker. Even confined to certain areas, he still had many levels at his disposal, and Gregory had shown him many. His life was upside down, and it was disorienting, having his energy confined, but none of it mattered as much as escaping the hell of the Stealth.

With the Stealth gone, and his mother no longer a part of his consciousness, he looked around his assigned quarters. Where before, he had shades of grey everywhere: his pallet, the walls, the narrow chest for his uniform—this room was peppered with little bits of color from the soft pillows on the bunk, the swirly seat cover on his chair, and the large dresser, each drawer a different primary color. In the short amount of time onboard, he’d already learned the phoenix appreciated differences.

He’d be okay here.

*

Next in The Phoenix Cycle

The Poisoned Alien

featuring Nick of the Scoriah and Vivian of the Talons

on a voyage to find answers

Coming Soon

Dont miss--

Dragons in Space: The Pilot

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