The tree trunks grow blacker. The smell grows worse and then the forest parts.
The buru pauses at the edge of a dark lake. An errant breeze ruffles from across the water to kiss my brow, carrying with it the scent of stagnant salt. Dead trees circle the bank—white, skeletal limbs frozen in the rictus of death. But the black and white landscape pales in comparison to that which lies half-submerged in the lake.
A wreck, ten stories tall.
It’s all that remains of a buru scientific cruiser.
I’ve seen what they do in those transports… and it’s the same type of cruiser I saved Soleil from.
A chill crawls up my spine.
Nothing about this is good.
The visible portion of the ship’s hull towers over water that reflects like a mirror. A rusted metal skin, pitted with corrosion, rolls over the ship’s hollow bones. Ragged holes, bitter eyes of darkness, mar the structure just above the waterline.
“There is no way we are going in there.”
Dinuth turns. His brow furrows. “My workshop is inside. What we need to save her is there.”
“This is a buru science facility.”
“Once perhaps. Not now.”
I rest a hand on the pommel of my xiphos. “I’m not an idiot. Soleil and I go in there, we don’t come out the same.”
The alien’s gaze flicks to my hand then back. He shakes his head. “This facility was destroyed by a storm many years ago. The other buru have since dismissed it. You are safe here.”
“No, we are not. I heard them on the comms. They’re looking for this place.”
Again, Dinuth shakes his head. “No. They seek a different fallen ship. One that malfunctioned two days ago and fell closer to the ocean.”
So, this isn’t the wreck I was chasing.
“Please,” says Dinuth, voice anxious. “This delay may cost your friend her life.”
I glare at him. “She isn’t my friend. She’s my sister—or what your people left of her.”
The lines of Dinuth’s face deepen. His eyes lower a moment, long black lashes brushing his cheek. He clears his throat.
“A sibling, you say? And one with close-matching DNA, I’d hazard.”
“We are—were—twins,” I admit.
“Rare,” says Dinuth. “An important discovery. Interesting, though, that you were kept human and they changed her.”
“They didn’t do it on purpose. I was never captured. Soleil was.”
Dinuth frowns, eyes full of pity I don’t need from the likes of him.
“I see,” he says. “Still, fascinating that your familial connection was enough to keep her tame. Most others…” he glances at the forest “…turn to madness. She is a perfect specimen.”
“Specimen?” I spit. “She was a perfect human being!”
Dinuth’s lips press thin. “And perhaps she can be again. Come. Let me show you.”
I clench my teeth and consider pulling my blade as he presses two fingers to his lips. A long, low whistle echoes across the lake.
“Look,” he whispers, pointing to the wrecked ship.
A small, white face appears at the lower edge of the largest hole in the ship’s hull. The child waves a hand and then disappears.
An undeniably human hand.
An unbound human on a buru ship?
My curiosity is piqued. Humans are never allowed to roam free around buru. I’d raided enough ships in my search to find Soleil to know. I’ve seen terrible things. Humans chained and experimented on; the savageness of the resulting abominations—creatures I have no names for.
“Will you trust me or let your sister die?” asks Dinuth.
Soleil stirs on his shoulder and falls limp again.
I have no choice. “Trust? Never. But for my sister’s sake, I’ll come.”
“Good.”
Dinuth presses a button on the inside of his armored wrist. The edge of the lake boils in response. Black, stinking sediment rises, coiling just beneath the surface of the water. Then a small platform breaks clear. It stops, dripping mud, and hovers just above the lake’s surface. The buru leaps onto it and beckons. Against my better judgement, I follow.
The facility looks even more decrepit up close. The traveling platform halts outside the largest hole. The small, white, human face resolves into that of a young girl—well almost. She looks human except for yellow eyes and a dusting of rainbow-colored feathers where her eyebrows should have been.
“Dinuth!” cries the girl and launches herself to embrace the alien’s leg.
The buru places a large hand on her golden hair. “Well met, Jane. But we have guests who are injured. Run. Tell the others to prepare the vaccine chamber.”
Jane peeks around the alien’s muscled leg. “You’re lucky he found you, you know.” Then she smiles. “Don’t look so afraid. You’re safe here.”
The vaccine chamber is the one place so far on the ship that looks cared for. Rusted gantries and ruined quarters lined the journey to this room, but here the metal surfaces look newly made, gleaming like ice under the glare of acid white lights.
Dinuth places Soleil on a steel bench. He adjusts her wings and legs to rest comfortably and then reaches for a tube tied to a frame above. He inserts its needle end into her foreleg. My sister doesn’t move. I fear she is already dead.
He presses a button on a panel below the bench. Thick purple liquid courses down the clear tube and into my sister’s leg. She takes a deep breath and then settles back. The alien’s shoulders slump and his head bows for a moment.
“We made it. Your sister will live.” He sounds weary.
“What are you putting in her?”
Dinuth looks up. “Viperion vaccine.” He straightens. “I am a chemist. I have developed vaccines for most venoms from reptile-human mutations.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I developed them while trying to perfect the process for my other work.”
Uneasy, I swallow. “What other work?”
“I can show you.”
I glance at Soleil.
“Your sister will remain asleep for a short while. We will return before she wakes.”
I don’t want to leave her, but the need to have questions answered presses more urgently. I nod and Dinuth heads for the door.
Dim light filters down through the ragged holes in the hull to light the gantries. They crisscross the vaulted, cavernous space within the ship like tendons through a body. As we move deeper, the structures seem to be in better repair. But the stink of the lake lingers, a pervasive stench.
Dinuth’s boots clang against the metal grates. The light grows dimmer still as we move down another level. The black, oily looking lake ripples far below. Gently swelling, its surface catches light in places it shouldn’t. I’ll bet death lingers in that water. This ship is as good as a tomb.
The gantry ends at an access hatch. The use of many hands has worn rust off the handle. Dinuth pushes on it and the door creaks open. Inside is a balcony and staircase that looks over a room filled with white electric light and laughter.
Dinuth moves to one side as I step across the threshold. I stare in wonder at the group of human children clustered around a table. They are eating food I haven’t seen in many long years. The scents of garlic and warm bread make my mouth water—roasted mushrooms and lemon juice over warm, steaming fish.
How can there be humans here? I count at least ten in all. I glance back at Dinuth, lost for words. His lip quirks up, his blood-red eyes suddenly don’t seem so terrifying.
He holds a hand out over the scene. “My work,” he says. “A cure for mutation.”
My sister’s face flashes before me.
“You can change mutants back?” I whisper the words, afraid their truth is so fragile as to fade away.
“Well, almost,” says Dinuth. “The process has not been perfected. I am as yet unable to split away all the genetic modifications, but they are as close to human as they can get.”