Василиса Чмелева – Parasomnia (страница 6)

"Second opinion," I corrected wearily.

"Bingo! So here’s the play—" The guy flexed imaginary biceps, punching the air. "We pull some shit that’s outrageous by local standards, but still kinda debatable. That’ll trigger a trial, the Sisters show up, and boom—we shove our letter at ’em to translate." He grinned. "Who’s a fucking genius now?"

"Brilliant. Would’ve never crossed my mind," I deadpanned, playing dumb. "Maybe you’ll recruit me?"

"You?" He squinted. "Thought you were a lone wolf. Crew says solo thieves are the most backstabbing bastards in the Galaxy."

"Who said I work alone?" I grunted. "Only difference is, my crew ditches me at better locations. While they strip neighboring planets clean."

"Damn, that’s cold," the guy breathed, half-admiring, before sneezing violently.

"Take me to your team," I demanded. "Together, we’ve got better odds."

Together, the odds only favor me.

"Who the hell is this, Tevin? Who’d you drag back here? I’m talking to you!"

A grizzled Kallinkorian with a thick, long beard circled me, shooting irritated glares at the kid through his half-open helmet.

He was short—even by human standards—and looked downright puny next to the towering Coldborn moving in the distance. His curly dark hair was thinning in patches, but his beard remained enviably full.

Though facial hair had long fallen out of fashion in space, this Kallinkorian clearly clung to old habits—where a thick mane signaled wealth and status.

Tevin—now identified by name—dropped his gaze guiltily. "Rovan, don’t freak out! He’s one of us."

"There’s no ‘us’ among Kallinkorians, idiot," Rovan snarled.

"Told him the same thing," I smirked. "But the kid’s as naive as a sea sponge. Might wanna train him better—next time, someone meaner might take my place."

"And why the hell are you here?" The bald Kallinkorian with an earring turned on me.

His elongated head was wrapped in a latex warming cap, thin as a chair slipcover.

"Looks like this one’s reached enlightenment even without hair. Sleeping follicles—nature’s indicator of a dormant brain," flickered a sarcastic thought, and I bit back a laugh.

"I want to help you decode the letter."

"You moron, you already blabbed about the letter?" The bald man cuffed Tevin upside the head.

He stood taller than Rovan and was lean to the point of gauntness. His eyes glinted unnaturally, as if the bartender at the ‘Ice Cradle’ had been heavy-handed with the cocktails.

“I just—I thought it’d be better, guys, come on,” Tevin squeaked. “Maybe he’ll be useful.”

“And what’s with the sudden generosity, Kallinkorian?” Rovan shot me a disgusted green-eyed glare. “A thief never shares his loot—shouldn’t you know that?”

“I don’t steal, I just… redistribute. Admit it, it’s simpler.” I answered lazily, noting Tevin’s approving nod. “If the letter’s really what you think it is, there’ll be enough for everyone. I’ll take a small cut for my help, and then we scatter like strangers.”

“And what if we don’t give a damn about you?” The bald one waved his middle finger in my face, and the other three rumbled in agreement.

I let my gaze drift over the crew of thieves—five in total. Three Kallinkorians and two creatures from… hell if I knew what planet those freaks came from.

I studied them thoughtfully, these men who’d made their living the same way I had for years. Castoffs from our homeworlds, sons of destructive choices—that’s what we were. And since I was stuck dealing with them, I had to outplay the competition.

“Tevin mentioned,” I began, deliberately slow, “that your whole crew landed on the planet. Which means you left your ship sitting on the surface… unattended.”

The crowd shifted nervously, and I knew I’d hit the Kallinkorian bullseye.

"Unlike you dumbasses, I don’t leave my ship unattended," I shot back, waving my middle finger in the now-silent bald guy’s face. "So the second I press this little button here, my crew takes yours and flies it straight out of Blokays. Enjoy freezing your balls off and chewing on snot for the rest of your days." I hovered my finger over the button—which, in reality, just adjusted the heating in my suit—and prayed these meatheads didn’t have a similar model in their arsenal. Tech specs weren’t exactly their strong suit.

And it worked. After a beat of tense silence, Rovan cracked.

"Friend," the man oozed sweetness, shaking his beard as the others leaned in, mirroring their leader's stance, "no need for threats right away. We're not enemies here. Let's work together. Might even be fun. What d'you say, boys?" He turned to his crew.

"That's what I told him from the start!" Tevin babbled, only to earn another irritated smack from Rovan – who was probably cursing the dim-witted kid in his head.

"Oh it'll be fun alright," I smirked at the five of them. "Fun like a five-alarm fire."

…Apathy hung heavy in the air, and my parents… They viewed everything as inevitable, as part of some natural order. Mother would disappear for days in the vegetable garden, struggling in vain to salvage meager crops that could barely feed our family – let alone produce enough to sell. Father, as always, remained in his orbital hangar, doing what he'd always done best – fixing starships.

I was sixteen and convinced the world was ending. My home planet, once the only place I knew, now felt like some forgotten backwater of the universe—doomed to die. I didn’t know what to do. People didn’t want change. They’d grown accustomed. Accustomed to the ignorance, to the slow but certain death creeping across our world. And then it hit me—they wouldn’t fight. This battle wasn’t theirs to wage.

But me… I was young, burning with the need to change everything. I knew if I stayed, I’d become part of the stagnation. I couldn’t let that happen. That fiery Kallinkorian teenage absolutism coursed through my veins, pumping bold, reckless ideas through my fevered mind.

On the eve of my departure from the planet, I went to see the one person I still needed most – my elder brother. Mother had given birth to another child by then, and I knew this new sibling would never truly enter our sacred brotherhood. Not like we had. Not for me.

I was certain Kell would be different – that he'd help us escape, that we'd build a new life. Just the two of us.

At sixteen, I still believed my older brother possessed some deeper understanding of the world. Surely he could see what I saw – our planet gasping its last breaths, everything we knew crumbling to dust. How could anyone just stand by and watch their world disappear?

But Kell had already reached that age—by local standards—when resignation sets in. When the fight drains from your bones. When it's easier to just drift with the current, eyes shut tight against the crumbling bedrock all around.

He was older, more… accepting of our world's slow demise. Unlike me, he saw no point in raging against it. No reason to gamble everything on some hazy, half-formed dream.

When I asked him to fly away with me, he just shook his head.

"You're still young, Itty," my brother smirked, raising a hand-rolled cigar to his lips.

We stood on the creaking porch of his shack while his new Kallinkorian wife clattered pots inside, her grumbling carrying through the thin walls.

"All that Kallinkor talk is overblown, I'm telling you." Kell tapped ash from his cigar and held it out to me. "You just lack the patience to slow down and look around. Believe too much in fairy tales. No wonder Ma calls you galacto-head."

"You really want this?" I knocked his hand away, the offer of cheap oblivion hanging between us. "To just… slow down? Be content like patches on your pants and some Kallinkorian woman warming your bed—that's the dream now?"

It was our people's oldest habit—smothering hardship under cheap thrills. Kallinkor had long since traded its fight for sedation.

"Watch your tone, Itty," Kell sighed, the ember of his cigar pulsing in the dusk. "I get it—the hormones, the fury. I was there too."

"And what happened to you?" I swallowed the tremor in my voice. "Where's the brother who used to dream bigger than the sky?"

"He grew up." A dry, final click of his tongue. "You should try it. Leave the interplanetary fairy tales to fools. Last thing we need is the neighbors whispering about cowardice in the Kendes bloodline."

"Since when do you give a damn about neighbors?"

"Someone's got to think straight. Not everything in life is a battle, Itty. Sometimes you just survive."

"You're right," I replied hollowly, turning toward the hangar beyond the field that once grew thick with wheat. Now it was just a gray stain of parched earth.

"Father's off today," Kell called after me. "Hangar's empty."

"I know," I said softly, without looking back.

But I knew—felt it in my bones—that Kell was already heading to tell Pa. No time left.

I'd prepared for this. Well… as much as any sixteen-year-old could. Studied ship schematics until my eyes burned. Packed a go-bag with just enough supplies to reach the nearest habitable rock. After that? I'd planned to hop from planet to planet like some kind of cosmic grasshopper, gathering skills and a real plan along the way. Genius, right?