Zaven

“I don’t understand why people come to a shady shit-hole like this if they can be anywhere else,” Zaven Adhzivian said, looking down at the winding street below.

As planets went, Chars wasn’t one of the nice ones. And Gyoza was a city that had its own way of existing. If Zaven were inclined to sum it up in one word, that word would be filthy. The phrases, “fuck off”, “your creds or your life” and “scream if you want me to slice your throat” were as good as local slogans.

“You’re one to talk,” Lucan Caeltius’ voice said on the other end of the line.

Zaven hummed, tapping a talon against his half-empty glass.

“Some might even call you a hypocrite.”

“Some?”

“Fine. You’re a hypocrite.”

Zaven chuckled. “Sure.” But that’s fine. 

He looked up at the sky being painted by the setting sun. The beauty of it going from purple to orange to yellow was in such stark contrast to his gritty surroundings that he couldn’t help but admire it. 

The dystopian nature of Gyoza had given him some sleepless nights in his first months here. He’d been jumped several times. But like anyone else here, he just got on with it. Now he schooled his expression into a permanent scowl, making sure anyone trying to jump him got their money’s worth in cuts and bruises rather than hard currency chits.

“It’s like you don’t even think there’s going to be a tomorrow.”

“Maybe I’ll get run over by a car. Maybe I’ll finally get mugged by someone actually quick enough to evade my talons and get stabbed. Maybe I’ll be defenestrated. That’d be kinda cool actually, how many people can say they’ve been defenestrated?”

“That’s morbid.”

A sip of cheap plum sake skimmed Zaven’s tongue on its way to his stomach. He leaned back in his rickety plastic chair, putting a leg up against the railing of the cramped balcony. “I stay out of trouble.” Sometimes. “I can always leave if it gets really ugly.”

“Yeah, I used to believe you.” A deep sigh crawled across the line. “Now I just think you like it here.”

Zaven glanced down at the narrow street below, choked with little shops, carts and people going about their business. “You don’t have to check on me, you know.”

Silence. “I… I know.” More silence. “I just… worry. Sometimes.”

Zaven listened to Lucan’s quiet breathing and couldn’t think of any words to say. He shifted his seat, chair groaning. “I’m hanging up now,” he finally said, worrying his bottom lip.

“Oh… okay.”

The hurt in Lucan’s voice made Zaven wince.

“Make sure you eat something solid. Can’t live on a liquid diet.”

“Yeah.”

Since coming here, Zaven had felt estranged from any davarians he’d come across. They were too eager for gossip. When you came from a highly structured and hierarchical society where questioning a superior wasn’t a thing, the scuttlebutt was always abuzz, and he’d found that the davarians out here were no different than back in the fleet.

Their mandibles were pinched tight about anything that wasn’t general gossip, and though Zaven had done his fair share of flirting to pry information out of them, he wasn’t going to sleep around for every little social clue.

Maybe I’ve been going solo for too long. He scratched under his mandible with a talon tip. The squad that had formed around him here was made up of good men, but it wasn’t the same. Even together, they all seemed to be alone, and he often found himself reminiscing about how life had been once upon a time. It made him feel old, even though he was barely out of his mandatory service.

Zaven returned his attention to the street below, and amused himself by taking a drink every time a passerby cursed at someone else. And the more colourful the curse, the more Zaven drank. This was life in Gyoza, and it was neither here nor there compared to anywhere else. Life was life. It’s not like any of us get out alive.

The sun inched down below the horizon. Darkness blanketed the city, turning the busy street into a dark valley below. The sake flowed out of the bottle and down Zaven’s throat. The buzz of the street became a distant, lulling hum. Shop lights came on, creating little pools of light in the gloom. In the absence of street lights, they were the only illumination available.

Zaven’s spex chimed.

“Shit.” Stirring from a drunken haze, Zaven got onto his hands and knees, knocking over  an untouched sandwich. When did I make that? He’d probably made an attempt at taking Lucan’s suggestion seriously. His spex chimed again. He picked up and croaked, “What?” 

“Oh, praise the spirits!” The steady thudding of music in the background.

“Lucan? What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” Lucan whined. “This bar is so dry! No one is hitting on me. Come save me?”

Zaven shook his head, trying to clear some of the haze.

“Hellooo-o?”

Zaven blinked. “That’s it? You want me to come drinking?”

“What a great idea!” Lucan crooned, and Zaven opened his mouth to reply. “Texting you the deets. See you soon!” The line cut.

Spirits. Zaven scratched the back of his neck. And here I thought I was drunk. He pulled himself up from the sad heap he’d collapsed into and made his way into the tiny box of an apartment to find a shirt and some pants, because he’d apparently taken those off at some point.

Downstairs, he gave the street a quick scan as he stepped out into it. This part of Gyoza wasn’t the worst, but it wasn’t the best either. Especially not after dark. The air felt arid and smoggy as he hurried down the street, hands shoved into his pockets. Despite the late hour, the streets still bustled with people, but Zaven didn’t see any children around, which he was glad for because he hated seeing—

“Hey!”

Zaven cursed under his breath. “Willa,” he grumbled without turning around or slowing down.

“Where you going?” The anasti girl half sprinted, half hopped along next to him, trying to keep up on her shorter legs.

Her head barely came up to Zaven’s armpit. Her slender frame made her look frail and willowy, but Zaven knew she could scuttle up a vertical wall in a hot second. Like a lizard. It was something to do with the molecules on her fingers and toes being attracted to the molecules on the wall...? She’d explained it to him once, but, truth be told, he’d been too drunk at the time to really retain any of it.

The inward curving horns that seemed to begin from her cheekbones were wrapped in decorative filigree, in the common style of her species. The metal glinted in the sporadic lighting from windows and neon shop signs.

“For a walk,” Zaven grumbled.

“Can I come?” Her large, dark eyes with the slightly metallic tinged irises twinkled.

“No.”

“You should drive. S’not safe at night.”

“What about you? Aren’t you a little young to be out at night? Kids should be in bed at this hour.”

“I’m not a kid. I’m fourteen!” She huffed in irritation.

“Sounds like a kid to me.” Zaven stumbled. “Damn potholes,” he grumbled to himself.

“Are you drunk?” she asked, sounding way too cheerful. “You’re not usually so irritated unless you’re drunk.”

Zaven scowled at her. “Thanks for the info.”

“So, where we going?” 

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Zaven growled and crossed the street, walking around the other cars, carts, and pedestrians that made up the chaotic intersection. He did, however, glance back to make sure Willa made it across. When she caught up with him again, her stomach gave an audible growl.

Zaven sighed and stopped. “Here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hard currency chit. “Go to that ramen place down the street. Then straight home. No detours, Willa.” He gave her a stern look.

“Nice!” Her eyes lit up, large pupils expanding, and she snatched the chit from his talons. “Thanks!” she beamed up at him. “Don’t drink too much. I won’t be around to get you back home if you pass out.”

Zaven gave her a flat look. “Yeah, as if.” There was no way she’d be able to haul his bulk anywhere.

“It was right there, remember?” Willa pointed to a shop stoop as she turned to leave.

Zaven squinted hard at Willa’s receding back, feeling slightly annoyed that she’d left before allowing him to have the last word. She skipped down the street, narrowly missing two drunk mercs who stumbled out of her way.

“You almost hit her,” one of them grumbled.

“Just a girl— hic.” The other one shot back.

“No. No way.” The first one shook his head, looking after Willa.

“Dumbass.” The second one shoved his companion.

“You’re a dumbass. That was Inix’s baby sister, man,” the first merc said, pointing after Willa.

“Oh, shit.” The second merc spun around. “That anasti smullger… smuglerer… that guy?”

Zaven couldn’t imagine what growing up in a place like Gyoza was like. With drunk mercs everywhere, and a smuggler… Oh, shit. With a smuggler for a brother, Willa probably already had enough money for dinner. Wait. Did she just play me? 

Zaven threw his hands up in exasperation. “Spirits dammit, not again!”