Chapter 2: Heads

A soft breeze drifted across the rooftop and tousled Diah Nollak's hair. As she sighed and began to smooth it back out, she thought about how much she hated living on Vensha. The humidity always made her sensitive purple hair frizz, the tourists never stopped coming and the crimson moon that hung in the sky bothered her immensely.

As she ran her hair behind a pointed ear, Diah leaned on the roof's edge and looked out across the ornate gleaming architecture of Liotik. The Chyl's capital city was a wonder to all those who visited its golden-capped roofs and pearlescent enclosures, but Diah couldn't help but see it as a gaudy reminder of their aristocratic roots.

Her hand moved from the hair behind her ear to the glistening specks that adorned her bubblegum skin. Chyl based everything they had on appearances. As a species, they were always complimented for the marks that embellished their colorful skin and twinkled like stars on a bright summer's eve. In Diah's eyes, they were all beautiful. To the rest of her people, however, they were a means of control.

At some point in the Chyl's long history, someone decided that the intricacies of one's pattern correlated directly to how pure they were. This gave rise to the High Marks and the Low Marks, a system of social stratification that drove everything the Chyl did from housing to job opportunities to marriage. The idea of it all made Diah sick to her stomach.

She shook her head to clear her mind then stared out at the ships passing by. She thought about the many times she tried to stow away only to be caught. No matter where she hid or how far she ran, her mother always found her.

"You know better than to come up here," the quiet, honeyed voice stated from behind her, as if on cue. "It isn't becoming for a Nollak to daydream aimlessly."

"Yes, Mother," Diah responded coldly as she stood straight and turned to face the bane of her existence.

Wyrna stood on the other end of the rooftop, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Her tangerine robe complimented the dandelion yellow of her skin and her gaze was enough to chill even the strongest of wills. Though smaller in frame, something about Wyrna exhumed a toxic and dominant air.

"Counselor Gallard will be arriving at the capitol soon and I expect us both to be standing on the docking pad when he does," Wyrna stated. Her left hand creased the flowing sleeve draping from her right. "You will remain absolutely silent this time, understood?"

Diah nodded slightly, her spirits lifted at the sound of Gallard's name. They had been friends since she was barely able to walk but he was a busy politician. His rare visits were always a dose of sun in her otherwise stormy life.

#

The chrome transport bulleted through the Venshan atmosphere before slowing into a full-turn maneuver. Flecks of light danced across its surface as the shuttle's landing gears clanked out from the sides.

Diah stood silently behind Wyrna, eyes locked on to the transport. The door lowered with a whir as Gallard and his associates made their exit, his light green skin and warm gray eyes invoking a sense of relief in her. Diah allowed herself to breathe a little in her mother's presence and tried her hardest to fight a smile from creeping across her face.

Gallard approached them, his white robes flowing in the gust of three more transports landing.

"My friends," He exclaimed with arms outstretched. "What an absolute delight to be back in your company!"

Wyrna cocked a crooked smirk.

"You've been dearly missed, as always, Gallard. The more time you spend with the High Prime, the less time you spend with us."

Diah ignored the sweetened venom of her mother's words and leapt to give Gallard a hug. It was the only time she felt she could be truly defiant under Wyrna's watching eye. He returned it wholeheartedly before taking a step back.

"Every time I return you're a few inches taller, Diah. Either you're growing up or my travels are shrinking me down."

"Probably both if you want an honest answer," Diah replied before Wyrna coughed loudly from the side. She quickly took advantage of the ensuing silence.

"Counselor, we must talk about a sudden shift in relations with the Low Marks."

Gallard nodded and the two began a walking conversation into the capital, Diah trailing closely behind. She hated politics and everything that accompanied it. It was constant threats and backstabbing and broken promises. Diah never understood why people would be so intent on keeping each other from accomplishing anything. Her mind drifted in and out of the conversation ahead.

"We have no choice, Gallard," She heard Wyrna say in a hushed tone. "The Low Marks are starting to riot and the Alis are refusing to accept your proposal. To meet with a group actively devoted to violence against their own kind is absurd."

"Solstice is a group dedicated to equal rights for all Chyl. They would not have to stoop to such means if we just listened to them. Besides, what good is a governing body that doesn't want to govern?" Gallard asked, unafraid of being heard.

The trio turned down an empty hall and stopped short of the lift to Gallard's office. Wyrna looked up to the Counselor with intense eyes.

"We have a job to preserve our culture and protect our people, Counselor. We cannot do so if you go stoking the coals. If you keep trying to appease the Low Marks and Solstice, the rest of the Chyl will cut you down where you stand."

Diah watched as anger began to crack through Wyrna's calm facade.

"You are about to incite a war, Counselor," Wyrna continued, pressing a nail into Gallard's chest. "I will not watch our cities burn."

"Unless you're the one holding the torch, Wyrna," Gallard retorted.

"I am a peacekeeper, not a warmonger. I leave the war talk to better suited and more vicious heads. If I must stake the legacy these marks," Gallard said, waving his hand towards his face, "have granted me and all those in my family who came before, then so be it."

Wyrna took a step back and closed her eyes.

"Open a line of communication with Solstice," Gallard commanded as he stepped into the lift. "By any means necessary."

The silver disk rose with a dull hum. Wyrna stood in silence for a moment, an intense energy burning off of her. She turned her attention to Diah, as she always did in her anger, and closed the gap between them.

"I said for you to remain silent. Absolutely. Silent."

Her hushed tone sent a familiar chill down Diah's spine. The young Chyl shuffled back slightly and adjusted her stance. She was scared of her mother, of the things she could do and had done, but she was tired of living in her fear. If there was a time to stand, it was now.

"Your undying loyalty to the High Marks and their sick idea of a society have made the situation worse," She said vehemently, building herself up with every word. "We're on the cusp of a civil war and Gallard is right: you would rather watch us all burn!"

Wyrna's hand moved quickly across Diah's face, the force of her slap sending Diah to the floor. The pins in her hair clattered against the bright orange flooring. As she tried to stand, tears welling in her eyes, an acidic feeling began to creep across her left cheek.

"You would use your Kanushin against your own daughter?" Diah huffed, attempting to mask her pain.

The yellow glow around Wyrna's hand dissipated into particles. She took a step toward her daughter and slid her hands into the sleeves of her robe.

"I hope as that acid burns into your marks, you will always be reminded of where you come from," Wyrna hissed. Her cold eyes locked onto Diah's. "Everything that I've sacrificed for you and for what? You've always been my biggest mistake."

Diah's eyes turned to the ground and her hair fell in her face. Wyrna brushed by, moving down the hall and into her office. A loud click echoed as the door locked behind her.

Diah took a deep hiccuping breath. Her body shook in fear, pain and anger. Another day, another nightmare.

She picked her pins up from the ground and held them in her hands. They represented everything she resented about her life. The ornate decoration. The clips that held onto her hair just a little too tightly. The memory of her mother gifting them to her three months after her sixth birthday had passed. Diah's grip tightened and she let out a frustrated yelp as she snapped them in two.

Diah was done being her mother's puppet; her precious little punching bag. She threw the broken pieces at the door to Wyrna's office and made her way towards the front of the capitol, hoping to get as far as she could.

Diah ripped the sleeves of her rope off, using one piece to wipe her tear-smudged makeup off and the other to tie her hair up into a bun. As she made her way down the capitol steps to the attention of curious passersby, she went over the plan she had formulated in her head.

If she cut through Liotik's business district and managed to get to the slums, she could send off a message to Solstice. They could get her on a cruiser and off-world to somewhere like the Draviti system where Wyrna would never be able to find her.

_________________________________________________________________________

The sounds of crackling fire and burning screams jolted Kirrik Ishlan from his sleep. Time was a loss in the vast black sea, but nightmares never changed. Perspiration sprinkled Kirrik's face, collecting on the edges of his square jaw. He let out a tense breath as he ran a hand through his oily blonde hair.

"That's the third time in sixty-four hours. Maybe you should get some help," a calm but stern voice drifted from the corner.

Imi Li sat tilted against the wall, legs propped up on the hovering table nearby. Her neon green eyes shone brightly in the shadows. Thin hands rested on the holo-tablet she had been studying diligently when Kirrik last saw her.

"Anyone ever told you you're like a cat? Just kind of creepily watching in the corner all the time?" Kirrik snarked.

Imi threw her legs down with a solid thud and leaned forward. "Use all the country euphemisms you want, but someone has to keep an eye on you."

She reached over and grabbed a battered shirt from the table, flinging it at her partner's head. Kirrik snatched it from the air as Imi stood and dusted herself off. The zippers of her jacket jangled lightly.

"Time to go, Flyboy," Imi said. "The target's going to be at his usual haunt in thirty."

Kirrik sighed and flung himself off the bed. He stretched and yawned loudly.

"No staring," He said with a wink to a waiting Imi as he pulled the shirt over his head.

"Never in your wildest dreams," Imi huffed.

Kirrik could feel the sting of the eye roll hidden behind her bright red bangs. She turned and walked out as the hatch door slid open.

Kirrik grabbed his boots, throwing them on with a quick hop. As he gathered the rest of his things and pulled his hair into a ponytail, a sense of calm began to emanate. Another day, another bounty.

"I have some pretty wild dreams," He muttered under his breath as he slipped out the door after her.

Imi strode quickly down the corridor and into the cockpit of the Aurora Nova. Flashes of light and words passed across the windowpane as she checked its diagnostics. Kirrik ducked in behind her and took his seat at the helm.

"Is she looking okay?" Kirrik asked routinely.

"The Nova could use a touchup or two," Imi responded, swiping at panels, "but it'll get us to the mark."

"She'll get us there," Kirrik corrected.

Imi stopped and gave him a hard stare. "You know I don't like that."

Kirrik swiveled around towards the Nova's control panel and let out a laugh. It was easy to push Imi's buttons but rarely did he do so out of spite. The two went through a lot and were all the other had. For better or worse, they needed to stick together.

Imi pulled up the Nova's targeting map and zoomed in on their mark. As the ship hovered above the planet of Tentiav, giant storm cells brewed and swirled. It would take a lot of intense focus, perfect timing and deft piloting to make it to the surface.

For Kirrik and Imi, this was just another normal landing.

_________________________________________________________________________

Diah slipped through the alleyways of the business district, careful not to draw attention to herself. She moved quietly across every walkway and peered around every corner, paranoid that she had somehow been followed. Ships whirred overhead and the Venshan moon rose into the middle of the sky as night slowly arrived, shades of red creeping behind it like an ill-fated omen.

A wet feeling washed over Diah's leg and she looked down, unaware that she had been standing in a large puddle of some unknown cerulean fluid. She pulled her leg out and watched her distorted reflection ripple. She didn't recognize the girl staring back with worn eyes, frizzy hair and look of defeat.

Diah let out a deep sigh and slumped against a nearby wall.

'Would all this running even help?' She thought with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her mind ran through a hundred different possibilities, pathways and outcomes.

The chances of Solstice helping her were already slim, but she questioned what the cost would be if they did. Diah would do anything to bring Wryna down from her pedestal but didn't want it to come back around on Gallard. He had already dealt with and sacrificed so much to get to his position.

As she surveyed the area around her, she noticed a broken walkway protruding from the back of a building close by. A fan of a bird's eye view, Diah decided to climb up the walkway and onto the building's roof. She looked across the rest of the district in an attempt to gauge her position.

She was closer than she thought, just a few buildings away from the outskirts of the district. Smog drifted from the factories of the slums and the scent of chemical fires hung thick in the air.

Diah dropped back onto the patinated walkway as it creaked and whined under her weight. She moved swiftly across and slid down a dilapidated ladder into a series of storm drains, careful to avoid the jutting rusted rungs.

Solstice headquarters was hidden down a handful of secret tunnels accessed only through the drains. No one would ever be able to find them if they didn't already know where to go. As she navigated the city's depths - two lefts, a ladder, two rights, across a platform - shadowed figures crept behind her.

Diah, closer to her goal, tapped the small chip in her palm and brought up her holo-call. She typed a quick message and sent it off, leaving her fate in the hands of her Solstice friends. The clutter and construction debris of the area around her offered plenty of protection and resting space in the meantime.

The crimson moon hung directly above her, casting its glow across the city. Diah stared into it deeply as her mind replayed the events of the last few hours. There was a pain that filled her heart, one she knew would never go away until she was as far from Vensha as she could be.

'Unless,' She considered, 'the thought of leaving home is what's causing this pain to begin with.'

Diah shifted quickly to the left as a hefty armored fist smashed down where she just was. She used the momentum to spin into her attacker, purple energy coalescing into a perfectly-shaped dagger that plunged directly into her assailant's chest. The Reclaiment let out a choked cry of pain before falling on its knees. Two more dropped from above, quickly trapping Diah.

"Back off," She warned, "or there'll be nothing left to bury."

They dashed in regardless. She pulled her dagger out of the body in front of her and threw it towards the Reclaiment flanking her left. It shifted exactly as she predicted, allowing Diah to use its body as a springboard to deliver a hard kick to the other's helmet.

All three bodies hit the ground with a solid thud, but Diah wasted no time in launching herself back up. She pulled all of her Kanushin's energy into forming a glazed purple shield around her body, two smaller crystalline daggers forming in her hands. She launched herself at the Reclaiment on her right, daggers stabbing through armor like a hundred crystal needles. It roared and swung at her but Diah dropped down to sweep its legs and deliver a final blow into its stomach.

A loud thwack rang out as a hot sear splashed across the back of Diah's head. Her vision blurred and she fell into the muck, unable to move. Diah's body stiffened while the pain continued to spread, warm wetness creeping through her hair. The remaining Reclaiment tossed down the metal rod in its hands, staring at her as she faded into black.

_________________________________________________________________________

Kirrik sat with his back against the overturned table, wondering how things always went from simple to unnecessarily complicated.

"It's your curse," Imi joked from across the room.

Kirrik rolled his eyes as laser fire peppered the room around them. The table chipped and sizzled, each shot whittling down their protection. Not at all the simple job he hoped it would be.

Imi had managed to navigate them safely through the storm cells and Kirrik took that as a good omen of things to come. It was a simple job after all: go to the local bar hangout of the Bachi Gang, take out their boss Qerod and cash out the payment.

'What went wrong?' He thought with furrowed brow.

"Your ex keeps finding ways to screw us over," Imi yelled in response.

"How do you keep doing that?" Kirrik yelled back, annoyed.

Imi smiled. "You're super easy to read."

Kirrik growled in frustration and used his Kanushin to whip a chair into a nearby Bachi member. Imi rolled to the side, firing at two more in the corner. Their cover gone, Kirrik and Imi leapt to opposite walls and hunkered down.

"I'll distract them and you take Qerod out," Kirrik shouted across the room.

Imi nodded, sliding over the bar counter and onto the other side. "Got it."

As expected, the eight remaining Bachi members turned their attention to Imi's location and attacked. Kirrik maneuvered across the overturned chairs and tables and popped up in the middle of the group, spinning as he fired his solar pistol into five of them. His hand glowed ruby red, his Kanushin forming a chain that he whipped around the sixth member to launch into the wall.

Kirrik watched as Imi launched off the counter and onto the seventh, smashing him into the ground. She did another roll, pulling her pistol up to Qerod and giving him a small wave.

Qerod immediately dropped his rifle and raised his hands. The disfigured Ixr stared at Imi in panic, his pointed ears twitching.

"Please, let's talk this out," He whined.

Kirrik kicked the body of a nearby Bachi member, ensuring he was gone. "We could've until you started firing," He responded with a hint of country twang.

Imi snickered and Kirrik reddened. His accent always ruined his attempts to be serious.

Qerod laughed nervously in response, his eyes now fixed on Kirrik's pistol.

"Whatever they offered you, I'll give you threefold," He bartered.

Kirrik shook his head as Imi circled around. "I don't want your blood money. Do me a favor instead?"

"Yes, yes! Whatever you ask!" Qerod said, nodding violently.

Kirrik holstered his pistol and stared the orange Ixr in his sole good eye.

"Give Areshia a message for me."

Imi fired her pistol through Qerod's body from behind. As his body slumped forward, Imi leaned in and grabbed his head. "Tell her to watch her back."

She let go and his corpse thunked to the floor. Kirrik stood silent for a moment then started to chuckle.

"Tell her to watch her back," He mimicked between laughs. "Was that supposed to be intimidating?"

Imi gave him a cold look from behind her tousled bangs.

"Shut up and call the job in."