“They’re overriding the door controls,” Lovey said. “Ashby, I—”
“It’s okay, Lovey,” Ashby said. “We’ll take care of it.” He had no idea what that would entail.
“Oh fuck,” Kizzy said, tugging at her hair. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Stay calm,” Dr. Chef said. He put his arm around Kizzy’s shoulders. “Everyone stay calm.”
Ashby took a few steps toward the bay doors, dumbfounded. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. A whirring sound on the other side argued otherwise. The doors clanked open. Sissix stood beside him, shoulders back, feathers on end. “I don’t know what to do,” she said.
“Me neither,” Ashby said. Think, dammit! His brain cycled through a jumble of options—find a weapon, run away, hide, hit them with… with something—but there was no time. Four sapients in hulking mech-suits came through the bay doors, all carrying battered pulse rifles. Their suits were large, bigger than a Human, but the creatures housed within were small, spindly, bird-like.
Akaraks.
Ashby had seen Akaraks before, on Port Coriol. Everyone knew how the Harmagians had treated them, back in the colonial days. Their planet was left barren, their water sources polluted, their forests stripped. Their homeworld had nothing for them, but neither did anywhere else. They were a rare sight out in the galaxy, but they could be found here and there, working in scrapyards or begging on corners.
Or, if they had run out of options, boarding ships and taking what they pleased.
Ashby put up his palms. The Akaraks’ voices came from tiny voxes inlaid below their helmets, shrieking and shrill. They weren’t speaking Klip.
“Don’t shoot,” Ashby said. “Please, I can’t understand you. Klip? Do you speak Klip?”
There was no discernible response, only shrieks and clicks and angry waves of their weapons. The words meant nothing to him, but the guns did.
Ashby felt a bead of sweat trickle down his brow. He brushed his hand across his face. “Okay, listen, we’ll cooperate, just—”
The world exploded in pain as an Akarak swung the butt of its rifle up to meet Ashby’s jaw. The Akaraks, the cargo bay, Sissix shouting, Kizzy screaming, Jenks cursing, all of it disappeared behind a curtain of red light. His knees buckled. The floor rushed up to meet his face. Then, nothing.
Rosemary wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to see when she ran down to the cargo bay, but there was too much going on for her to think clearly. The bay doors had been wrenched open. Four armed Akaraks—Akaraks?—wearing mech-suits were yelling at everyone in some weird Harmagian-inspired dialect she couldn’t make sense of. Ashby was unconscious (she hoped) on the floor, cradled by Kizzy, who was crying. The rest of the crew were on their knees with their hands in the air. Rosemary barely had time to process any of it before the Akaraks, startled by her sudden appearance, pointed their weapons at her, croaking strange words in a tone that would’ve sounded angry in any language.
“I—” Rosemary stammered, raising her palms in the air. “What—”
The Akarak closest to her—xyr mech-suit was trimmed with blue—ran at her, croaking the whole way. Xe shoved a gun in her face. Jenks started yelling back at the other Akaraks: “She’s unarmed, you fucking animals, leave her alone…” The biggest Akarak, xyr suit nearly three times Jenks’ size, shook xyr weapon at the comp tech and pointed toward Ashby. The threat was unmistakable. Be quiet, or the same will happen to you. Jenks’ hands balled into fists. There was a hum as the Akaraks’ weapons began to charge.
Am I about to die? Rosemary wondered. The thought was bewildering.
“Rosemary,” Sissix said over the din. “Hanto. Try Hanto.”
Rosemary wet her lips, trying to ignore the weapon beneath her nose. She met Sissix’s eyes—scared, but insistent, encouraging. She dug her fingernails into her palms, so that no one could see her hands shaking. She looked down the gun barrel. She spoke. “Kiba vus Hanto em?”
The Akaraks fell silent. Everyone froze.
“Yes,” Blue Suit said. Xe turned xyr head back toward the others and pointed at Rosemary. “Finally.” The gun did not move.
The big Akarak stormed toward her. “We will take your food and all supplies that are of use to us,” xe said. “If you do not comply, we will kill you.”
“We will comply,” Rosemary said. “There is no need for violence. My name is Rosemary. You may call me Ros’ka.” This had been her chosen name in secondary school Harmagian class. “I will speak your needs to my crew.”
Blue Suit pulled the gun back, but kept it pointed at her. The Akaraks croaked among themselves.
The big Akarak gestured acknowledgment to Rosemary. “I am our captain. You will not be able to pronounce my name, and I will not pretend to have another. Are there others elsewhere aboard your ship?”
“Our navigator is in his quarters. He is a peaceful man and is of no danger to anyone.” Rosemary thought it best to not confuse the issue with plural pronouns.
Captain Big huffed. “If this is a trick, I will shoot you.” Xe turned and croaked to one of the others, who ran up the stairs.
“What’s going on?” Sissix asked.
“They’re going to get Ohan,” said Rosemary. “I’ve explained he’s no threat, and that we’re willing to cooperate.” She cleared her throat and switched back to Hanto. “My crew agrees to help. Please tell us what you require.”
“Food,” Blue Suit said. “And tech.”
A thought appeared. Rosemary knew little of Akarak culture, but from what she had read of them, she did know that they greatly valued the concepts of balance and fairness. The idea of taking more than you could make use of hadn’t even occurred to them until the Harmagians showed up. She had heard that those values still lingered; that much was apparent even in the phrasing that Captain Big had chosen: We will take your food and all supplies that are of use to us. In Hanto, the semantics of those words strongly implied “and nothing else.” Her mind raced, wondering if that scrap of knowledge was enough to gamble with. A large part of her argued in favor of self preservation—shut up, just give them everything, you’re going to get shot—but the braver thought won out. “How many are aboard your ship? Are there any children?”
Blue Suit snarled and raised the gun again. “What difference does it make how many we are? You will do as we say!”
Rosemary wiggled her fingers in a calming gesture. “I will. But if there is any way that you can spare us enough food to last us until the next market, we would be humbly grateful. We do not wish to die out here anymore than you do. Furthermore, I have read that Akarak young have very specific nutritional needs. If you have children aboard, we must make sure that our food does not lack for nourishment.”
Captain Big considered this. “We do have children aboard,” xe said at last. Rosemary took this as a good sign. Ashby’s injured face and the pulse rifles aside, these people didn’t seem violent. Just desperate. “And yes, their needs are great. We may not find what we need aboard your ship.”
“Then let me offer this,” Rosemary said, treading carefully. “One of us will show you our food stores. As I understand it, the Kesh To’hem market is less than a tenday from here. We will not be traveling there, as we cannot stray from our flight path. Take from us only what you need to last you the trip to Kesh To’hem, and we will give you credits and trade-worthy supplies so that you may purchase more suitable food. This way your young will get what they need, and we will not starve on our journey.”