Deimos leaned against the side of his ship, watching the ships speed across the sky above him. It was just past sunset on Crioclite, an outpost on an asteroid that he had stopped at to refill his ship's empty fuel tank.
Though he hadn't made much progress since the beginning of his journey, he didn't regret his choice to leave Iscarmilas. It felt very freeing to be out on his own and exploring wherever he wished, with his very own ship to take him there.
He heard the thrill of beeps from the fuel machine, informing the human that his ship was once again fueled. He waved his hand and let a red glow surround the heavy fuel pump so he could gently pry it out of the ship. He lowered it back into its slot on the large machine, and retrieved his money card from the slot by his ship.
From across the machine, he heard the station's attendant whistle. The purple alien walked over to the now stationary fuel pump, and trailed a hand across it. "Stars above, I wish I had a power like that! Would make working at this station a lot easier!" She joked.
Deimos smirked at her, only to quickly wince at the amount of money left on his money card. "Well if you guys are hiring…" He teased, motioning to his ship. "After all, it takes a lot of Nova to fuel this ship."
She shook her head. "Sorry, don't think the boss would like the idea of me hiring a Drifter." Narrowing her yellow eyes and scrunching up her face, she imitated her boss in a scratchy, mocking tone. "She'd say 'You can't trust someone who doesn't have anything tying 'em down!'"
Drifters… It was a word he had become quite familiar with since leaving Iscarmilas. It was the word used on most planets to describe people who traveled from planet to planet, who often lived on their ships and didn't have any real planet to go back to. It was someone who wandered with no real purpose, someone like him.
He didn't mind being called a drifter, it wasn't as bad as other things he had been called. Most people didn't have a problem with Drifters, it was just another way some people lived their life. It wasn't the most lucrative, but that wasn't why they chose that life anyway.
Deimos glanced back at his ship with a wince. Still, it would be nice to get a little more Nova… Maybe I should see about staying somewhere for a bit and saving up... He frowned at that, the idea of staying anywhere too long reminded him of Iscarmilas and made him antsy to get back into the stars. Maybe not… Maybe I should see what I can do from my ship, maybe sell things I find or find shipwrecks to scavenge from…
He quickly shook away those thoughts, he landed her to get fuel and explore, he didn't want to be an anxious mess the whole time. He turned to the mechanic and motioned back towards his ship. "So, did you have those ship parts I asked for?"
The purple alien tapped at the communicator on her wrist, the blue screen displaying a wealth of information. "We have them in stock, but it may take a day or two to get them here. Is that okay with you? I could throw in a discount installation if you want."
Deimos waved his hand. "It's fine, I can install it myself when it gets here. Until then…" He glanced behind her, at the cosmopolitan city in the distance. "Is it okay to keep my ship here?"
"We're a shipyard, aren't we?" She gave him a good natured smirk. "It's a small charge per day you stay, but it's fine. If you're not here when the parts show up, I'll call your communicator and let you know."
Satisfied with her answer, and confident that his ship was in good hands, Deimos decided to venture away from the shipyard and head towards the bustling city that stretched across most of the asteroid.
Crioclite was one of many outposts that were scattered across space, but one of the more well known ones. It was built up from an unpopulated asteroid when the Galactic System was still just an idea. It had a dome covering the city, which provided oxygen and an artificial grassland environment.
Since it was unpopulated before being converted to an outpost, the people who lived on the asteroid and visited were aliens from a variety of planets. Nearly every building was different, designed with a different planet's architecture in mind, with signs written in a variety of languages.
The streets zigzagged in an unplanned manner, sometimes interrupted by the river that ran across the artificial environment, which had many different types of bridges to walk over. It all clashed in a chaotic, but harmonious way that fit the asteroid perfectly.
Deimos slipped his hands into his jacket pockets as he slipped into the bustling shopping district. It was a long street in the middle of the city with many stands and tents set up from one end of the street to the other. Over the noises of the crowd, the many vendors of shops were loudly trying to garner attention to their products.
"The most advanced communicators this side of the Andromeda!"
"Star maps! Need to go somewhere? I can show you how to get there!"
"Roasted haulce meat! Buy three, get the spice free!"
"Try some fresh-baked Rintile bread, the best on the asteroid!"
"His bread is disgusting, try my Tavinax bread instead!"
The human snickered as the two shopkeepers glared at each other from across the marketplace. He covered his smirk with his hand as he passed by their stalls, and internally decided that it might be better to avoid buying from either of them, unless he wanted to further motivate their feud.
He browsed the shops for a little while to see the various products being sold. He admired the clothing from Luerus, handmade weapons from Zadus, shiny jewelry from Mesides, and fresh cooked food from many more planets.
Deimos spoiled himself a little and bought some new knives and hid them with the others on his person. He thought about buying a ring or two but decided it was better to save his money. Maybe some other time…
There was still plenty of the city to explore, but the sun was starting to set. He decided it was probably time to head back to his ship. His ordered ship would likely take a few days to reach the outpost, so he had plenty of time to see all the shops.
He was a few streets away from the shipyard when, over the outpouring of voices, something specific caught his attention. Someone said No-Contact Planets… A shopkeeper? Why would a shopkeeper be talking about that? He wasn't sure if he had heard correctly, so he stopped and waited to see if he would hear it again.
After a few seconds of focusing through the noise, he heard it again.
"Genuine items from No-Contact Planets! Want to see that which has never been seen? Come check out my wares!"
His red eyes scanned the crowd, and landed on a yellow scaled alien sitting cross-legged on a tattered rug. There were a plethora of items piled haphazardly around him on the edges of the fabric. Other patrons would glance at the man and roll their eyes, their disbelief at his claim obvious.
Deimos knew he should doubt it as well, he had always been an expert at sniffing out suspicious things and it already sounded like a shoddy scam, but he found that he couldn't help his curiosity this time.
His legs led him over to the scaled man, who gave him a sharp-toothed grin. "Good evening to you. Anything catches your interest?"
The human didn't respond right away. He scanned the items piled up on the tattered rug. He narrowed his eyes at the sight of a dress-like article of clothing, and pointed towards it. "Isn't this from Padlantis?"
"Oh yes, unfortunately." The man sighed, the orange ruffs on the side of his face drooping. "It is always a celeration when a new planet joins the Galactic System, but also bad for my business."
Deimos lowered his hand, still suspicious. He could be lying, maybe he just stopped by and bought this. He scrutinized the other items. The rest of this stuff isn't, though, but that doesn't mean that any of it is from a no contact-
His red eyes suddenly froze on something nestled in the middle of the mess, and a strange feeling overcame him. He carefully picked up the small item, and brought it closer to examine it. It was carved out of wood and colored white, with a thin middle and a plus-like symbol on top.
Slowly, his other hand traced across the small piece, he felt mesmerized by it. It was so… Familiar. As he stared, he felt the dull throbbing of a headache forming.
"Oh now that, that is a very special item! It comes from Earth, a non-contacted planet in a nearby galaxy! My sources tell me that this is a piece of their currency, one of the highest you can get in fact-"
"That's not what this is." Deimos interrupted as his headache grew worse. "I-It's a chess piece, for the game of chess. I remember…. It's a chess piece, a King."
The scaled man gave him a surprised look. "Oh? Are you from Earth, then?"
"I was… But my memories were taken from me. I-I've never remembered anything until now." He stared at the chess piece desperately. "Why? Why is this what makes me remember something?"
The yellow alien stared at him, a glimmer of pity in his eyes. "Well, if it really is from your planet, and it helped your memory, I could sell it to you for a discounted price. What do you think about twenty percent off?"
He didn't answer right away, still staring at the chess piece as his mind began to work again. His red eyes met sharp black pupils as he decided what to do. "I'll do you one better, I'll pay you extra if you tell me who those sources of yours are."
The orange ruffs raised in surprise, then quickly lowered again. "W-Well I- I- I don't know if I should be doing that"
Deimos remembered the pity that he had seen in the man's eyes earlier, and decided to use that to his advantage. "Please?" He asked, barely needing to fake the desperate tone. "If there's a chance they know anything about Earth… I need to try, this may be the only chance I get."
His sad pleading broke past the alien's weak defense. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed. "Alright, alright. Twenty percent above my original price, and I'll tell you where to find them."
It was a steep price, but he knew he was treading on eggshells as it was. He handed over his money card, and the transaction quickly took place. As soon as his card was back in his hand, he looked at the man expectantly.
"I don't know much about them, but they come here every few weeks to sell me what they found. Don't know where they got it, never asked, didn't want them to raise their prices on me." He pointed to a nearby street. "They were here this morning, parked at the eastern shipyard. It's a black ship with a weird white squiggle near the hull. They might still be there, if you're quick."
Urgency flew through his veins and he quickly stood up. "Thank you very much!" He raised a hand. "I'll be going now then."
"Oh, wait!" The yellow alien picked up the Padlantian dress, and tossed it to him. "Here, take this too. Nobody will pay for it anyways."
Deimos caught it easily, and gave a thankful nod. He stuffed the clothing in his bag, and held the chess piece tightly in his hand as he headed towards the direction that the scaled alien had pointed to. Maybe I'll actually get some answers.
The shipyard wasn't as crowded as the one that he had landed at, but there were still enough spacecrafts that it was difficult to track down. Thankfully, the other ships were not completely black, often painted with personal touches by their owners. Some written phrases on some, childish drawings on others, and sometimes just symbol stripes. It made it easier to track down a pure black ship.
At the very edge of the shipyard, nearly invisible in the darkening night sky, he found a ship similar to the description he was given. He could see white, but it was being blocked by figures standing in front of it
It was two aliens near the front of the ship, huddled close together. One was a moss green alien with sharp claws on his hands and feet, pointed ears, and tusks. The other was a lavender alien with curled horns, hooves, and spikes along her back. The horned one was smoking something from a twisted pipe, while the green one tapped his claws impatiently on the ground.
"We should have left already, we need to get back to the base. If anyone realizes we're missing-"
The lavender one let out a frustrated sigh, blue smoke billowing out of her mouth. "Bah, you're so annoying." She spread her hands out in an exaggerated surrender. "Fine, we can warp back there tonight. Just let me finish my pipe first."
"Fine." The green alien groused back as he turned and stomped around the ship to the other side.
In the empty space left behind by the man, the white symbol stood proudly against the black ship. Deimos's breath halted as his mind reeled, before being assaulted by a sudden burst of pain. He clawed at his temples and stumbled backwards in shock.
He knew that symbol…
Before he could register this realization fully, the pain returned with extra force, like his mind was trying to split in half. A memory forced its way forward.
He was on the ground, wheezing for air. The pristine white floors were stained with his blood, and there was more dripping down his face. He growled and tried once more to thrash, but the strong boot on his back held him against the floor.
Normally, he knew he would have taunted them or tried to get under their skin, but all he felt now was anger. He had failed to escape, he had one chance and he blew it. He wanted to scream and curse at the unfairness of it all, he just wanted to go home.
At the sound of footsteps, both he and the one holding him down froze. Three pairs of gray boots stopped in front of him, just a few inches away from where the floor was stained red. He heard a chuckle, and then they snapped an order in a language he couldn't understand.
The boot was gone, but before he could even consider running he was roughly grabbed and pulled onto his knees. One large hand held his arms in a crushing grip, while the other snatched at his hair and forced him to look up at his captors.
They wore a black lab outfit, with a white symbol standing proudly on the side of the chest. It started in a swirl, then turned into two spikes, one on the right and one that went down. The one in front stared down at him with an amused smile.
The human hated that symbol, he hated that all his captors wore it proudly as they tortured and experimented on him, and all the others trapped here. But the one who stood in front of him now had a much different air about him.
He was a white alien with a blinding white exoskeleton, and a mocking, snake-like grin. He crossed his arms, and made a disappointed tutting noise. "Now, now, did you really have to do that, human? You made a mess for nothing."
Too angry to reply, the human settled for a snarl as he struggled against the painful grip.
"But at the same time, I must say that I am impressed. Even after all this time, you are still trying to escape. You are resilient, quick-witted, and stubborn." Their four sharp blue eyes landed on the human and narrowed. "Unfortunately for you, that's exactly the type of person we're looking to use in our project."
A cold chill ran down the human's spine at the predatory look in that alien's gaze. Whatever they were referring to, he knew it couldn't be good. Did it have to do with the alien trapped in the other room? Were they going to do that to him?
His struggles became even more violent, but it was useless. The one holding him quickly slammed him back down against the floor, his face pressed into his own puddle of blood. He winced as stars danced across his vision.
"Struggle all you want, but your fate was sealed the second you escaped your cell." The white alien then spoke to someone else. "Prepare the machine, we need to wipe of those pesky memories now that we're moving this one to the next phase."
"NO!" The human screamed, but it was too late. They held him down so he couldn't thrash, a needle broke through the skin on his neck, and then everything faded away.
Deimos was suddenly wrenched back to the present with a horrified gasp. He slammed his hands over his mouth and stumbled backwards. His chest heaved as he tried to stop himself from fainting, the memory now painfully present in his mind.
No… It's them… He felt his heart speed up as his vision grew fuzzy. Why are they here?! Here for me?! Have they followed me?! Why?! To take me back?! His headache spiked again, but this time all he received was the overwhelming feeling of terror. No! I won't let them use me again! I won't go back, I WON'T!
In a desperate, panic-addled attempt to calm down, he suddenly bit down hard on the side of his hand. Blood trickled from the wound, but the pain was enough to pull him from the suffocating fear that had possessed him.
Stop… Think logically. He told himself firmly. If they had been after you, they wouldn't be relaxing and smoking. If they were after you, surely they could have taken you when you were stationary on Iscarmillas. They said they might get in trouble, the yellow alien said they were his sources, which means…They secretly sell the stuff they take from captors, people from no-contact planets.
The puzzle pieces started to click together as his mind started to settle. Yes, that made sense. He moved on wobbly legs over to the edge of the ship to peer out at the purple alien. She was still smoking from the pipe, but looked close to finished. They would leave soon, to go back where they came from.
Deimos slowly backed up and pressed himself against the ship again. Leave, now. Before they get a chance to see you. He wanted so badly, he wanted to hop in his ship and fly to the furthest galaxy where they couldn't find him, but…
A slight throbbing in his head... He remembered now. The alien in the other room, trapped behind the glass. The others trapped in the cell room with him. The pain and the fear as they sat in the darkness while they wondered what torment they'd receive next. He wasn't the only one they had hurt, but he was one of the lucky ones who managed to be set free.
I can't run away. Deimos realized. I can't be a coward, not when I know exactly what those people are going through. I need to do something.
They were warping, though. Even if he managed to call for someone, they'd be long gone before any Galactic Officers set foot on Crioclite. He couldn't follow them in his ship, he didn't have a warp drive. The second they did, he'd lose them.
That left only one option… He had to stow away. It was dangerous, it was ridiculously stupid. There was an extreme possibility that he'd be found out and killed, or worse, be captured once more, but he had to do it. If there was even the smallest chance that he could free them from that hell, he had to try. Because nobody should have to suffer like that.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the white chess piece. Blood from his bite wound dripped down and stained the wood a sickly red. He imagined the mocking smile of the white alien's face, and clenched his hand into a fist around the piece.
You've had your fun, but now it's time for my move.
