Old Frontiers: The Severan Contingency

Chapter 2, Part 2

Quinton heard the scuffle in the corridor but took his time getting up and determining what was going on. All he wanted to do was sleep and didn't have time for whatever fight was happening outside. After a moment the Kith realized this wasn't even his quarters, but rather some abandoned supply closet on engine level. He rubbed his eyes and hoped he could both see and think clearer with whatever amount of rest he had acquired.

Stepping into the hallway, shaky at first until his Castar-twin steadied him. As his eyes found the Keloi on the floor his suit also appeared to drain the intoxication from his body. "Frek," he said, angered by the threat-response. "I worked hard to get that buzz rather and you have to pass out on the floor?"

Two steps were all that was required before he realized what his Castar-twin had already known before his own brain had caught up. Rather hadn't passed out, someone had beat the crap out of him. There was a welt on his face that looked nasty and their fearless Maenar was out cold. Quinton checked him over, finding two more injuries before he knew all he needed to know.

He started back down the corridor in the direction of the airlocks, looked around to ensure no one else was around and went to all fours. Kith could sprint at incredible speeds if they channeled their feral birthright, but few would consider their animalistic poise civilized. Fortunately, there was no one else present to witness beyond an unconscious human.

Quinton knew some shortcuts that likely only an Obsolus could exploit. The vents were about his size, extremely slow and cumbersome for a Keloi to traverse, was also relatively easy for any Kith. He slipped through these, going up two levels to the cargo bay, and skidded into a closed vent. He burst forth, a blur of fur and claws, rolling when he hit the floor and coming up on his feet as if he hadn't spent the evening drinking curdled Fratfa milk.

A clapping noise drew his attention to the hooded intruder. "Bravo! I'm impressed, but I have to wonder how it is I keep running into all of you?"

"Guess you're unlucky," Quinton replied. He walked slowly to put himself between her and the access shaft to the mega-station.

"Really?" The thief lowered her arms to her sides and he saw that they were gloved and slender looking. Not at all those of a fighter even though Rather's bruises spoke of something different. "Is your entire crew a bunch of pugilists or you just in a pissy mood?"

"You break into our ship and beat up our Maenar and ask why we might be angry?"

"I just needed to borrow something. You're loaded—you can afford its loss."

"Theft? I'll add that to the list of charges."

She smiled a thoroughly unwholesome gesture.

Quinton reached for his weapon before realizing his holster was empty. Where was his revolver? He didn't know and so he let his hand casually fall to his side in an attempt to dissuade from the fact that he had lost his weapon.

"Problems?"

"Oh shut up." He charged, picking up speed on all fours and barreled into her. She tried to dodge but wasn't fast enough to get away from a Castar-twin-powered-Kith. He hit her and she buckled under the momentum.

As he skidded to a halt he watched as she rolled with his momentum, coming up on her feet, and fleeing out of the open airlock shaft. Quinton realized his tactical error only a moment after she had fled. "Frek," he said and hurried to the shaft. He switched on ship's coms. "Prinz—she's escaping out of the front. Wherever you are, get out here."

Quinton raced after the thief alone.

--

Had the Kith just spoken to her? She opened one eye and saw that her quarters was still empty and promptly closed it. All she wanted was sleep, but something was nagging at the back of her mind. Last time she had come back here for sleep they had all awakened after both Rather and Grathe had been captured on the streets of Port City.