In Space, No One Can Hear You Scream

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The punch knocked out the world. Vision blackened, but Lily was perfectly conscious when interference scrambled her HAF. The loss of air compounded the shock of the Verakian woman's blow. Face tightened like a busted zit swabbed with alcohol. Wet warmth ran from Lily's nose. She snorted and swallowed liquid copper. When her resnance chip recalibrated, she moaned in both pain and relief.


After shocks in Lily's atmosphere bubble shuffled the scenery. She couldn't see anything as she struggled to get up.


The Verakian woman snarled. "Hold the Pashmi. I want his hands."


Feet pounded wood planks. Doctor Puu shouted. Lily lurched in the direction of his voice. The Verakian woman's voice rang out again.


"Deal with her. I've had enough."


One cezin Lily fumbled for the loudest sounds in the intersection and the next wind rushed from her in a violent wheeze. A flat hand had struck her chest and flattened her on the ground. Planks bashed her already pounding head. Pressure crushed her pelvis. Hands grasped her wrists. They crossed her arms over her chest, pinning them there.


After shocks finally cleared. Her atmosphere bubble fully stabilized and her vision clarified. The pressuresuited Verakian sat atop her. Scowling, she bucked beneath him. The man hardly wobbled. He grinned at her through his helmet's visor.


None of this had gone to plan. Vortrand was supposed to get to them before anything bad happened! Where was he?


Mucus and blood clogged Lily's nose and oozed down her throat. Her face was hot and achey and felt five times too big. Air wouldn't come through her swollen nose, so she panted as she wriggled under her captor. Starcollide made her body slippery. The Verakian's grasp slid a couple of times. If she kept at it maybe—


Wet ripping and a shrill yowl from doctor Puu stilled Lily. A cold sensation spread over her stomach.


"That's how you do it," the Verakian woman said. "Why are you being so careful? Give that to me. I don't give a shit about his arms."


The creak of bending metal plucked something dreadful in Lily's gut. Doctor Puu's strangled shouts sent her whole body tingling with an adrenaline rush; a chemical boost of strength. Hinging up, she butted her head against the Verakian's chest. Green and white lightning bolts of pain zig-zagged over the backs of her eyelids.


"Get off," Lily snarled through clenched teeth. Flecks of white spittle dotted the Verakian's pressuresuit.


Lily was up, but she couldn't free her hands. She yanked back and slammed forwards. The Verakian's gloved fingers slipped. One arm almost came free. Then her captor changed tactics.


On one of Lily's backward yanks, the Verakian released her arms. She slammed onto the ground, knocking herself stupid. A single hand secured her wrists again. Clawed fingers tangled in her bangs. The Verakian man dragged her up by the hair. Pressure at her scalp stretched her skin taut. He held her that way half off the ground as she thrashed and kicked.


"Get off me!" Lily shouted. "Get. Off. Me!"


"Get off her," said a familiar voice. The click and rising whine of a primed L-Striker punctuated the order.


Back up arrived.


The Verakian man straddling Lily jolted at the blast end of an L-Striker shoved in his face. His grip on her slackened. Tearing away, she scooted back then kicked at his legs, sending him into a fetal heap. She leapt up and cocked back her foot. A vicious kick to the gut had a patch of moisture blooming on the inside of the Verakian's visor.


Vortrand swung out his L-Striker, retraining the weapon on the Verakian woman. He prowled into the clearing and stood beside Lily.


"Release my Pashmi."


If someone pointed an L-Striker at Lily, she would have peed herself, but the Verakian woman rolled her eyes. She rested a hand on a thrust out hip. Backing away from the other two in her pack, she revealed doctor Puu. Lily's hands went to her mouth.


Blood dripped from the doctor's lowered head. His mangled left ear wilted. The Verakian woman had torn away one of his heavy cuffs, leaving a ragged tear of flesh behind. The Titian held one of the doctor's hands.


A dark patch stained the doctor's sleeve. They'd pried up a piece of his golden hand where the mechanism knitted to his arm. Fur and flesh had come up with the metal. The doctor's chest heaved. Nostrils flared. The other Verakian man, the one with the fierce ventilator mask, released the Pashmi's uninjured arm. He went for the L-Striker holstered at his side.


"Don't." The Verakian woman raised her hand. Her command stilled her comrade. She dipped her head in deference to Vortrand. "Wasn't aware these two had a patron. My apologies."


The captain grunted his acknowledgement then addressed the Verakian man. "Put your weapon on the deck." Then to all of them: "I want to see everyone's hands."


The Titian obeyed. The Verakian with the mask hesitated. His hand flinched towards his weapon. Their leader's voice cut through the silence.


"Put your Striker down."


The Verakian man complied. Dark eyes didn't waver from the captain as he plied the gun from its holster and eased down to the deck.


"Now," the Verakian woman continued, "get those arms up, brother." The loaded glance she shot her partner set Lily's hackles on end.


As the mask-wearing Verakian slowly raised his crooked arms, Vortrand motioned doctor Puu to them with a jerk of his head. The doctor crossed to them. He cradled his damaged hand to his chest. When he passed them, he briefly obscured the others. Lily didn't see the glittering ends of the mask-wearing Verakian's elbow barbs until he aimed them at their party.


Lily's brows pressed together. Barbs hooked from the ends of Vortrand's elbows too, but their tips didn't glitter. Or drip. Or expand.


Lily touched Vortrand's arm, pointed, said, "hey" and heard his soft exhalation when he saw what she meant.


A few things happened at once that likely left Lily concussed.


First, came a noise; air shuttled through a narrow tube. Motion blurred the dilated points of the Verakian man's elbow barbs. Lily blinked then blammo! A great weight slammed into her side. Everything whooshed by in a sickening slide. Teeth rattled when she hit the ground. Large hands cupping her skull spared her serious injury. Her atmosphere bubble wavered then focused. The captain spread atop her, his body forming a shield.


Quills pricked the ground where Lily and Vortrand had stood. The darts were small and slender. They glistened with clear fluid that slid down their lengths. The captain's L-Striker lay next to one of them. When he tackled her he lost it. The Verakian woman beamed towards the weapon. Her companion with the ventilator mask stooped for the gun he'd relinquished to the deck while the solitary Titian backed into one of the splinter alleys behind them.


Sliding her starcollide shrink-wrapped body from Vortrand, Lily scrambled up and dove for the captain's L-Striker. She collided with the Verakian woman. They conked heads and tumbled on top of each other in a knot of limbs.


HAF interference cut off Lily's oxygen supply. She lurched and she and the Verakian woman rolled. They knocked into her masked accomplice who bent for his gun. The man's foot snagged on his leader's leg. He nose dived onto the deck. The impact blasted the women apart. Lily landed on her back and the Verakian woman groaned on her side.


Shouts, a confused mix of Vortrand, doctor Puu, and the Verakian man, threaded through the buzzing zip of discharged liquis rounds. A strangled cry rose over the din. Something heavy struck the deck. Wood planks under Lily's cheek vibrated. Getting her hands under her, she shoved up. HAF interference garbled her view. Who fell? Who got shot?


The captain bellowed over another loud, male voice. Vortrand was ok. Where was doctor Puu? She swallowed back her heart which lodged in her throat. Fingertips investigated the interference-smeared space in front of her. She didn't feel the gun, but she heard the stunned Verakian woman next to her stir.


"Shit," Lily muttered and wobbled to her feet.


Swirling surroundings made her guts roil. Two blurry forms warred near the alley that led onto Market Street. A heap of fabric humped in the intersection. Lily squinted. Everything was too dim and hazy to make out color or detail. Head whipped around. A gleam of bronze caught her eye.


The L-Stiker.


Lily flung herself at the glint of metal. A feral roar at her back had her arms pumping and her feet pounding the deck. Stooping, she grasped for the weapon. Fingers brushed metal then a powerful body rammed her side. The charge tossed Lily sidelong. She slammed into the wall of a residence and collapsed. Plaster chunks and chalky dust rained down on her. Before she could get up, a massive amount of weight at her lower back pinned her to the ground. Rough wood crushed her hip bones. Spindly fingers twined in her hair and yanked up. She wailed. Something cold dug into her temple.


Survival synapses fired in Lily's brain which cut to autopilot. Body reacted. No thought required.


Grabbing two fistfuls of plaster chunks and powder, Lily tossed the debris over her shoulders. The Verakian woman shouted. A coughing-sneezing fit seized the woman. She dropped Lily who flopped onto her back and kicked the woman in the stomach. The Verakian gagged and doubled, but she didn't drop the L-Striker. She recovered before Lily could act and she was over this mutiny.


The L-Striker swung back and cracked against Lily's cheek and sent her onto the deck. Pain, cold and razor edged, spread over her face like a web of busted glass. Hands went to her already aching nose. A foot planted in the center of Lily's chest and forced her flat to the ground. The Verakian woman towered above her. A shake of the woman's head and shoulders sent puffs of chalky dust into the air.


"I've had about enough of you."


Lily stared into the mouth of an L-Striker. Its primed whine pitched high as the woman squeezed the trigger. A scream stretched Lily's mouth wide. Arms crossed uselessly over her face.


Two reports fired.


The Verakian woman's body jerked left. The round that erupted from her L-Striker buzzed wide of Lily's face. Super-heated liquis struck the deck. Splinters and scalding residue pelted Lily's neck and cheek. Above her, the Verakian woman swayed, eyes expressionless and mouth slack. The right side of her face resembled the jagged remnants of a shattered egg. Milky gore caked the ruined edges of where her features used to be. Pale blood gushed from the monstrous wound. It oozed down her neck and ran in white rivulets down her barriersuit. Her right eye, the one that didn't dangle from its socket, blinked. Limbs twitched and her tongue poked between her lips.


Shrieking, Lily scuttled backward as the Verakian woman collapsed. Lily didn't stop until she butted against the body of the pressuresuited Verakian man she'd kicked in the legs. His weight shifted and he rolled. The tacky sound he made came from the puddle of congealed blood beneath him.


Lily shrank from the corpse. Her pinched expression sent a wave of rolling pain through her head. When she started hyperventilating she snorted and grew lightheaded until she swallowed deep breaths through her mouth.


A hand scrubbed the liquis-speckled side of her face. The greasey stuff covered her puffy cheek in an oily film. She belched and held down the meal that threatened to spew out over the deck.


They were dead.


All of them were dead.


"Get. Up." Vortrand's words were quiet and harsh.


The captain stood spread eagled in the mouth of the alley that led to Market Street. The L-Striker he held at hip level whined. The ventilator-masked Verakian lay crumpled at his feet. The captain's eyes, black in the back street's shadows, glittered dangerously as he regarded her.


Lily's bottom lip quivered. "You killed them," she said.

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