Perdition's Child

Chapter 11

The apartment building was old, the base structure a relic of the original space station construction. It carried the unmistakable scent of all permanent structures well-traveled by lellians, and he see-sawed between the comfort of familiarity and unease at the smell being ever-so-slightly off compared to the familiar crowd scents of Kraylic and the other tiny edge towns he frequented.

The hall he was led through had been painted orange with gold trim, colors that signified that the sihda group inhabiting this place took Skjol as their patron god. Mehk flicked an ear forward then back but said nothing. Skjol was often the more celebrated god in space after all. There was far more room for change here than on Lequin where paths were already worn through solid stone.

Ritcha, the same unfairly beautiful man from the cafe, had been the one to pick him up. Mehk resisted the sudden urge to scratch all over in nervous itchiness, not wanting to come across as having mites or fleas. Shija please let him not have any mites or fleas. Mehk cringed at the thought of infesting this kind strangers' home with parasites and silently vowed to be more strict with his cleaning regime.

Ritcha, either not noticing or used to his effect on others, told him about how two hundred years ago the basement levels where he stayed may have been a base for space pirates. The most famous of which included an infamous human pirate queen and her skithtiri consort who were thought to have been indirectly responsible for Lequins' revolution. "Well, we have no proof, but it adds to the charm of the place anyway. I'd like to think that this place has always been the abode of anarchists, even if they were aliens... And skithtiri are pleasant by alien standards."

Mehks' tail twitched at that. In his experience along the Tihrah, anarchists could be either wonderful, fascinating people with off-beat ideas and ideals, or they could be terrifying conservative anti-government whack jobs, but rarely did they sit in the middle. He was falling asleep on his feet though, so he hoped very much that Ritcha was one of the former.

"Well, here we are. Please make yourself at home." Ritcha unlocked the door to the fourth room in the hall, gesturing for Mehk to step in before he turned on the light. The door clicked shut behind him and he looked into the faces of more than a dozen people, all lellian and all wearing a modified blood-orange version of a Skjollian priests' garments. Ritcha pressed something sharp and cold against his back when he tried to step backwards, and Mehk cursed his luck and any listening gods.

He didn't hesitate for more than a second, risking a stabbing to lunge to the side and past Ritcha towards the door. That second was one too many though, he was grabbed roughly by his mane and dragged yowling back into the center of the apartment by two of Ritcha's lackeys then tied to a chair. He'd reached for his pistol only to discover it missing; the damned bastard before him must have picked his pockets while leading him to his car.

Ritcha held his hands up placatingly, "Stop screaming. We own this whole building and no one will hear you from behind these reinforced walls. We don't want to hurt you, just answer our questions and we'll get you a ride back to Kraylic where you belong in the morning. We have a ship."

He froze, wondering how they knew where he'd come from. He was in much more trouble than he'd first thought. This wasn't some sort of random kidnapping, they knew he'd been involved somehow in the Valarka incident. They knew about the virus. He let his voice tremble and took complete advantage of his youthful appearance. Maybe he could appeal to the rhoha's protective instincts. "What do you want to know? I just got kidnapped by mercs while looking for scrap to sell, I don't think I can help you."