Night Rider

Chapter Three

Zenth 'Z' Point of View

I sprung away from Q when Zeke's deep voice boomed from the communicators. The device consisted of a few wires twisted together that clung to a pocket in our tunics. They were what connected us beyond blood.

"Captain, we are ready to transmit."

"Copy, I'll be there in a moment," I replied tapping the transmit button on the communicator.

Qiturah and I strode swiftly to the bridge are of our tiny ship. The Night Rider was tiny, but what she lost in comfort she more than made up with in speed. She was small enough that our four-man crew was more than enough to maintain her.

Although, I did wish the hallways and the pathetic excuse for Jeffrey's Tubes were a little bigger. I guess that the engineers didn't really have beings with several meters in wingspan in mind. The hallways weren't big enough for me and Qiturah to walk side by side without our wings brushing.

Every time that out wings touched I jumped. This caused Q to step behind me, laughing slightly. She had a nice laugh, quiet but musical. I shook my head and tried to throw her out of my mind.

The ship we were approaching, the Exodus, was carrying a fugitive. He was half human and half Anthrea— a demon like race that had abilities that were often mislabeled as 'magic'—a blend of two powerful and dead races. The fugitive was genetically enhanced, so I expected that he would be a little faster and stronger than average, although I didn't really know what 'average' was. Our source claimed that he was telekinetic, so we had to keep him from focusing on one thing for any particular amount of time.

I really wasn't looking forward to begin this battle. However, I threw these thoughts to the back of my mind, this was no time for doubts.

I took my place in the bridge. I did prefer to stand during transmissions instead of sitting. I felt like the abnormally large chair drown my thin frame.

I clasped my hands behind my back, raising my wings and bouncing on the balls of my feet, "Charge weapons, please, Quin, I would prefer if we stayed away from surprises," I said smiling.

My words were greeted by chuckles and a few words of compliance.

"Hailing, connection established," Quin announced.

Another language met my ears, I despised using a translator. I preferred to lose myself within the patterns and tempo of the unknown. I quickly identified the language as Zendi; a language that I had picked up in the lab. Or at least the low, impure form the guards had spoken in.

"I am Captain Ado of the transport Exodus. I apologise, but translators are not available to me, and my interpreter speaks only limited Standard," A balding middle aged man addressed me.

The Exodus clearly wasn't an Alliance ship, if they were they would speak Standard. The Alliance was the handful of races that united to defeat the Empire of the Humans that had expanded to control the galaxy.

Standard was the blend of languages that the dozen or so races in the Alliance originally spoke. The person who named it was incredibly creative. I assume that the language sprouted from the unwillingness to learn somebody else's speech. The Alliance preaches that no race is above another. I guess that officiating one world's language goes against that belief.

"I am known as Captain Z, of the Black Ship," Telling an intended victim (who at the moment I have no plans to kill) the true name of your ship wasn't a good career move, "The unavailability is of no issue to me, Zendi is a language known to me since childhood," I threw myself into the complex patterns of the language, falling into the rhythm.