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A Ship Soothes the Soul - Part 1

Dim light flickered over a largely vacant bar, only the most desperate, addicted customers still drinking their lives away at the late hour. Sounds of a brawl outside were left unattended, the sharp-eyed barman leaning over his hefty stomach to swipe a towel across the sticky countertops. Trash-littered floors and a musty scent made it clear that cleanliness was not quite the priority at this particular hole in the wall.

Sat at a table in the farthest corner of the room, cloaked by shadows and cradling a pint of beer, was the kind of man that it would feel natural to avoid. Worn travelling clothes had been ripped at some point to reveal thick, muscled arms marked with more than enough scars to ward off anyone considering a fight. Scruffy brunet hair that looked as if it hadn’t been washed in much too long accented his face—a face complete with bushy brows, a crooked nose, and a sour expression. His light brown eyes tracked a four-eyed, two-tailed rat across the floor, then flicked to the thoroughly cobwebbed rafters as if to inspect the place.

The barman watched the mysterious man with caution, perhaps worried that he would call an inspector on his unwell-kept establishment, or perhaps afraid that the burly man would put his obvious strength to use. But Doryen Thalose had no intention of either such thing.

At least, not at that moment.

The current object of Doryen’s interest was the woman who moved to sit at the same table as him, her own beer in hand. A bit worse for wear, her silky black hair had formed nearly into dreads of oil and dirt, her dark, rustic skin shiny with sweat. The deep, ocean blue of her eyes was rudely interrupted by red-rimmed, unappealing exhaustion, a split, bleeding lip topping her grungy look off. The turmoil of the last week showed on them, but neither could bring themselves wash that week away just yet.

“What kind of stunt was that?” Voice gruff and a bit slurred, Doryen cast his accusatory gaze at the woman.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Response just as sharp, she took a gulp of beer. She irked him to no end sometimes, but until now she had been quite the trustworthy partner.

“Don’t play stupid.” Doryen growled, his irritation building. If she was going to make mistakes, she should at least own up to them. “If you hadn’t’ve given our position away, you’d be spared a split lip and me a black eye.” As he spoke, he gestured to the welt forming over his right eye, a decoration that arguably made him even more intimidating than he already was.

“Quiet down, we don’t need people talking.” The woman’s concerned eyes flicked over to the barman, who had graduated from glancing at the couple to watching them intently.

“I’m not an idiot, Sanyah.” Though he said that, he took her warning into account and lowered his voice considerably. She was often right, not as if he’d give her the satisfaction of hearing that sentiment come from his mouth.

“Of course not, Doryen.” Pursing her lips, Sanyah Harmon set her pint of beer back down on the table, tone patronizing. The last thing he wanted from her was an argument, so he chose to drop it. She made a mistake; it’s not like he never made them too. But the last couple days had taken a lot from him. What they both needed was sleep and showers.

“Another Rosemary Phantom for the lady!” A boisterous voice cut into Doryen’s thoughts.

There at the bar was one of those ostentatious Deltans, perched on a barstool next to an Epsilonian woman. His pastel, purple hair had been pulled back into a long ponytail besieged with fancy braids, and a fluffy foxtail of the same color protruded from underneath his clothing, wrapping around the woman’s ankle. Multiple hoops of gold hung from the fox ears atop his head, pale blue eyes narrowing as the woman gave a silent laugh (Epsilonians were born without voices).

Doryen resented Deltans, largely because of how often they seemed to go around parading their wealth and charm. Further, they looked like such strange creatures to him, with their human faces and animal appendages…it just didn’t seem right, though he supposed he couldn’t be one to judge.

“We should go back to our rooms, take showers…Deltans have superb hearing, and we need to be more discreet.” Sanyah’s voice the barest whisper, Doryen had to lean in to hear her, but then he gave a nod of agreement. Whatever the case, he didn’t trust a Deltan as far as he could throw him.

The rooms they had rented were located above the bar, possibly more decrepit than the drinking area itself. But it was the only thing they had been able to get on the cheap that could hide them at least to an extent. It wasn’t ideal, but the pair had seen worse.

Doryen disappeared into his room first; he had made certain to get one that would lead into Sanyah’s, the connecting door left unlocked in case either of them needed a quick escape. They tried to plan for every scenario, but something could always go wrong. In his experience, it was more likely things would go wrong than right.

After as quick a shower as he could make it while still being thorough, Doryen checked through his luggage, ensuring each and every weapon was safe and operational. Even in a dump like this, the barman had offered to carry up their packs, but Doryen insisted they carry it themselves on the excuse that he didn’t want the man’s filthy hands all over their things. The threat had been enough for the barman to back down from his attempt at hospitality, which Sanyah chastised him for later.

A loud rap on the connecting door was followed by Sanyah saying, “Okay to come in? We need to discuss a few things.”

“Not as if it’s locked.” His low grumble brought with it the click of his door opening, the dark-skinned woman not bothering to comment on his surliness. Pulling a questionable, dusty chair from the corner, Sanyah took a seat across from where Doryen stood. Her dark hair, cropped at the shoulders, hung in limp, wet strands about her face, one of which she reached to tuck behind an ear.

“Our scrape with SERAF was too close this time. We need to be better at keeping under the radar.” Even in the privacy of their own rooms, Sanyah kept her voice low. She was always the one to be conscious of their surroundings, while he chose to save observing for later.

“What more can we do? We’ve taken every precaution we can, but without a way to travel how safe can we be?” They’d had this conversation before, and it always ended the same way.

“Steal a ship. Things would be easier.” She gave the exact reply he expected.

“Haven’t we gone through this? Neither of us have the slightest idea how to take care of one, besides disabling the tracker.” It’s not as if her idea was bad, but both of them knew it wasn’t plausible. If she could finally drop it and help him look for a different solution, they would both be happier. But, much to his chagrin, she wouldn’t let it go.

“Yeah, but what if we—”

“Catch the Deltan! He’s a thief!” Clattering bottles along with the barman’s thunderous voice came muffled through the floorboards. Vaguely Doryen thought that he knew something was up with that fox-eared weirdo, but he had other things to focus on. Thievery meant authorities, and authorities meant he and Sanyah had to get out.

“On it.” Sanyah beat him to the cut, disappearing into her own room and tossing her minimal things back into a bag. Following suit, he pulled on some protective gear, zipping his pack then making for the door. But the moment it opened, it slammed shut again with a flash of gold rings and purple hair.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Maybe the Deltan was fast, but Doryen was faster, grabbing the man’s throat as he tried to escape across the room. Not enough to cut his airway, but if push came to shove, he wouldn’t hesitate.

“You won’t hurt me.” That cocky sort of confidence was the kind of thing Doryen hated, the kind of thing that really would endanger the Deltan’s life.

“Don’t be certain.” Doryen growled, backing the man into a wall. His and Sanyah’s own safety came first; they didn’t need any witnesses or disturbances. And dead bodies don’t talk.

“It’s not worth it, let’s go.” Sanyah insisted, already at the door. She was right and he knew it, but he didn’t like loose ends. There was a reason the Deltan chose their room to hide in, and there was no chance of leaving until he found out why.

“I know you’re running from SERAF, and I have a ship for you. If you’ll help me.” Calm, collected, not a hint of fear in his light, blue eyes. Doryen’s muscles stiffened, hand tightening around the Deltan’s neck. Even if there were a ship, he knew too much.

“Good try—”

“Wait!” Sanyah’s hand on his shoulder ripped him back to reality. It wasn’t okay to kill people like this; he couldn’t keep being so reckless. But something had to be done, and his hand didn’t release just yet. “You said you have a ship?” Directed at the Deltan, her question almost carried hope.

“Yes, but I need more than one person to run it. You help me out, I let you on my ship.” He craned his neck over Doryen’s shoulder as he spoke, the golden hoops adorning his tall, furry ears clinking together at the motion.

“We should consider it.” She turned back to Doryen, giving him an almost pleading look. Taking half a second that he didn’t have to spare to think, he considered every angle. It could be beneficial, assuming the guy didn’t turn right back around and play them as seemed his habit.

“Hide, then.” Relinquishing his grip on the Deltan’s throat, he watched as the guy scurried into the bathroom, door closing after his purple tail. Not moments later, they had the barman banging on their door, demanding to be let inside.

“I know you’re hiding him…!” Upon Doryen’s opening of the door, the heavyset barman began to throw accusations.

“The Deltan rat? He’s not here.” Quite a bit taller and intimidating in demeanor, Doryen’s calm response caused the barman to back up a few paces, the anger in his face replaced by a hint of fear.

“It seems we may need to go about this a different way.” He relented. “You sift out the Deltan for me and I give you half the money he stole.” It was a good offer, Doryen had to admit, but he already knew what Sanyah would say. Access to a ship was immensely more beneficial, a sentiment he happened to agree with.

“It seems you didn’t hear me properly. He’s not here.”

“A search of your room should be no problem then…!” Anger returning in full force, the barman tried to push into the room, but Doryen pushed him back with ease. A little too hard apparently, because the barman stumbled all the way back into the opposite wall.

“The rat isn’t here!” The aura around Doryen grew cold, all his pent-up frustration over the past week along with constant exhaustion and this problem with the Deltan melding into one. Maybe the barman saw in his eyes that he was on the verge of snapping, that the slightest inconvenience would cut the cord that governed his self-control. In any case, he backed down.

“Do as you please, then. But dealing with that Deltan will get you nowhere.” Still a bit hesitant to give up on his money, as anybody would be, the barman waited a moment before backing down and slinking off to the comfort of his bar.

“He’d better be worth this.” Slamming the door, Doryen stalked over to the bathroom in search of the purple-haired rat. His expectation was exactly what he got, the man halfway out the open window of the small area. Acting quickly, Doryen grabbed his tail, dragging the Deltan back inside and eliciting a loud yelp.

“You coulda taken it easier.” He winced, obviously still in pain. Doryen had no chance to react as a blur flew past him, Sanyah’s hands gripping the Deltan’s shoulders as she dangled him halfway out the window.

“You said you had a ship.” Her tone was low, and even though Doryen couldn’t see her face, he knew exactly the kind of expression she was making. Best described as a twisted snarl, it was the face that hinted at how truly strong she was, the one that reminded him she wasn’t just a voice of reason.

“A fall from here?” As collected as ever, the Deltan peeked backwards towards the street. “Easy. Agility runs in my species.” With a frustrated growl, Sanyah pushed him out further, still drawing no response.

“Do you have a ship?” The rage in Sanyah’s voice was something even Doryen decided he’d never like to be on the receiving end of. She didn’t often lose her temper, but the Deltan had gotten her hopes up only to seemingly crush them moments later. Doryen had expected nothing less, but Sanyah could be too trusting at times.

“…the ship was true. And I do need more than one person to run it.” The Deltan gave in, more inconvenienced than scared. If he knew Sanyah better, then he would be terrified. “But how do I know I can trust you?”

“Doryen just lied to the barman for you at our own expense, that isn’t enough?” Sanyah’s voice brought a bit of silence, then a heavy sigh. “At this point, you’re the untrustworthy one.” She continued.

“If I had really wanted to escape, I’d have done it by now. Neither of us seem to have a choice other than to go into this blind.” In his head, Doryen noted that the Deltan had a good point. They didn’t have anything to prove they weren’t lying anymore than he did.

“Where is this ship then?” Sanyah grew calmer, finally pulling the fox-eared man back inside. At this rate, the barman might’ve heard them, and time was of the essence.

“I’ll take you, but I obviously can’t leave through the front door.” Cocky as ever, the Deltan pointed a thumb back towards the window. “I say I escape through there and meet you in the back alleyway.”

It was sketchy. That move would separate them, giving the rat a perfect chance to escape. But there seemed no other choice; if Doryen and Sanyah didn’t pass by the barman on their way out, that could raise enough suspicion to be a problem. They had enough people following them and hardly needed any further recognition.

At Doryen’s slight nod of approval, Sanyah spoke. “Alright. What’s your name?”

“Loall’seo.” As to be expected, he labelled himself with a funny, Deltan sort of name.

“Okay, Loall’seo. If you’re not in that alleyway when we are, I swear I will turn the galaxy inside and out until I find you. And when I do, I will skin you alive and turn your tail into a pair of gloves. Understood?” The more Sanyah spoke, the sourer Loall’seo’s face became, until he was downright scowling.

“A bit of an overreaction to be fair, but understood.” Though notably more somber than before, the Deltan’s voice still didn’t lose that playful edge. Then just like that, he slipped out the window and was gone.

“Skin him and turn his tail into a pair of gloves?” Doryen cocked a brow at his partner, aware of the fury still etched across her face. But at his comment, the color of her cheeks deepened to a cherry red.

“I had to come up with something on the spot.” She explained it away, trotting off to her own room in order to grab her pack. “You know I’m bad at thinking of threats.” Sanyah’s voice was distant from the other room, but he could still hear her embarrassment.

Choosing to limit his teasing, Doryen set about pulling on his heavy coat and zipping it up to cover his mouth just as Sanyah did the same with her own gear. He tugged the hood over his head then slung his pack over his shoulder, pulling the hotel door open to head downstairs with Sanyah in tow. Neither of them spoke a word to the bartender, who gave them a brooding glare, instead focusing on adorning protective goggles before braving the outside weather.

Cold air hit Doryen like a blast, but no sand this time, for which he was thankful. That particular area of Theta-7 was known not only for its freezing temperatures, but also for debilitating sandstorms. To Doryen, it seemed a strange combination, but there’s no accounting for the weather on other planets. It certainly wasn’t the worst he had endured.

Few lights shone from the broken-down houses along the street, this particular neighborhood nearly empty of inhabitants. No one came this far south unless they had something hide or some illegal business that needed tending to. High, freezing winds whistled through shattered windows as Sanyah and Doryen trudged along, making their way to the back alley of the bar as discreetly as possible. Between two buildings, the wind was less inhibiting, yet still quite inconvenient.

The alleyway was devoid of life: no people, no animals, and certainly no Deltan. Just as Doryen was beginning to curse himself for trusting someone with a name like Loall’seo for even a second, a figure dropped down from one of the roofs, his pastel, purple hair distinct against the dark sky. So he hadn’t run off.

“How are you surviving without any protection?” Though her voice was muffled by her coat and the wind, Sanyah could just barely be heard, her arms gesturing to the dangerous weather surrounding them.

“The cold doesn’t bother me.” He responded with that cocky grin, his hair blowing everywhere despite the constraints of his ponytail. “Come, I’ll take you to where the ship is docked.” Motioning for them to follow, he turned and began to walk.

As they followed, every terrible possibility ran through Doryen’s mind, knowing that there was absolutely no reason for Loall’seo to be as safe as he seemed to be. But for the moment, he had to take it on faith and hope for the best.

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