Those Left Behind: An epic first contact space opera (The Waystations Trilogy Book 1) by N. C. Scrimgeour

Author:N. C. Scrimgeour [Scrimgeour, N. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Alcruix Press
Published: 2021-11-15T16:00:00+00:00

The underground usually brought with it a cool relief from Jadera’s fierce sun, but all it did now was send a shiver down Ridley’s spine. She made her way through the rocky chambers of the Queen’s Den with as much composure as she could muster, but the thought of what might be waiting for her was enough to make her legs tremble with every step she took.

By the time she arrived at Skaile’s private chambers, the roof of her mouth was as dry as the desert above her, and her grimy palms were slippery with sweat. She passed through the curtain, clutching the bottle tight to her chest, and braced herself for what was about to come.

Skaile was lounging across a velvet couch. Her long red headtails fell loosely around her shoulders, and when Ridley entered, she barely flicked her a glance. “Trouble above ground?”

Ridley froze. “You heard about that?”

“I hear about everything.” Skaile stretched out, her red legs bare under a thin fabric shift. Everything about her movement was slow and coiled, like a predator ready to pounce. “Nobody breathes, nobody talks, nobody takes a shit in this port without me knowing about it. When the hunter I hired loses my bounty in the middle of my marketplace, you better believe I hear about that.”

She glared and took a crisp bite out the end of a halsi stick. Ridley had tried one before—at Skaile’s insistence—and had choked on the small mouthful she’d braved. The dried fruit was too bitter, the acid too sharp for human tastes. A siolean’s palette was clearly made for stronger flavours. Hell, sioleans were made stronger, period. If she’d been able to absorb radiation into her skin and summon the energy to tear her enemies apart, she’d never have ended up in this mess in the first place.

Obsolete. The word rang through her head as clearly as if Shaw had been there to say it himself. She tried to push it away, but the slur buried its way under her skin, refusing to budge. Wasn’t it truer than ever now? She might have escaped the surface of New Pallas, but that hadn’t made her a topsider. She might have been given cybernetics, but that didn’t make her an Exodan. She might have landed on her feet in this new galaxy, but that didn’t mean she belonged here. Not when she was still stuck at the bottom of the food chain, always looking up.

“Finally.” Skaile swung her legs over the edge of the couch. “What’s the matter, Halressan? You get lost on the way here?”

Ridley hastily moved to the side to allow the hunter and the jarkaath to make their way into the room. The hunter’s stolen armour reflected all the rich colours of Skaile’s treasures, shimmering with deep blues and sparking golds. Down his arm was the crude streak of red paint, a blemish on the beauty of the rest of his glassy shell.

The jarkaath followed, wrists bound. When he saw Skaile, the spines on the back of his neck shuddered.

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