Zora's Stone: The Last Queen of Qorlec, #7

Chapter 1

Quinn had been gone for three days. Today was the fourth day, and Varzo was on edge, waiting to hear news that Quinn had been executed by her daughter, waiting for the horrible moment when she and Mercy would have to comfort Thalcu, who wouldn’t show it but would fall to pieces at the news.

Varzo sometimes couldn’t believe there had been a time when she’d envied Quinn and Thalcu. Initially, her feelings of envy had stemmed from her crush on Thalcu. Eventually, however, she began to envy Thalcu's relationship with Quinn as well. They were always so close, so open, so ready to support and love each other, while Varzo could barely exchange a sentence with Mercy without arguing, let alone achieving some sort of emotional intimacy. It had taken years, but Varzo was finally in a committed relationship with Mercy and was the happiest she’d ever been in her life.

Now Thalcu was the one who was envious, Varzo could tell. Now Varzo and Mercy had the close, loving relationship. Mercy cooked. Varzo cleaned. They shared a bed. They laughed. They whispered. They each had their jobs and supported each other financially, each contributing credits to an online savings account that had become their nest egg. They had taken a room at the inn and were discussing their plans to eventually get an apartment together. They were building a boring, happy little life for themselves, while Thalcu, whose relationship with Quinn was always in dramatic turmoil, went to Zora’s Stone every day and waited in tears for Quinn’s return.  It didn’t seem fair.

But Varzo knew everything wasn’t solely flowers and sunshine between her and Mercy. Mercy had no desire to stay on Rig 9 and wanted to leave as soon as Quinn returned, while Varzo would have been happy to have lived there the rest of her life. And of course, Mercy still refused to marry Varzo and would not say why. Varzo could only assume it had something to do with the entirian Mercy had lived with on Rig 9, who she also refused to speak of at any satisfying length.

Tired of fighting with Mercy, Varzo decided to stop trying to force Mercy to do what she wanted and just take what she could get. So she was pleasant every morning as she kissed Mercy goodbye and went to feed the chickens and milk the cows and pick up litter for the innkeeper.

Mercy likewise had a job serving drinks to the patrons. Her uniform was a white tunic-dress and leather sandals, which she hated wearing and complained about it so often, Varzo realized she had never seen Mercy in a dress before. Varzo thought Mercy looked great, though. Her muscular body had hourglass curves, and her breasts had never been so prominent. A lot of the patrons stared at her, torn between fear and lust, for even when she was wearing a dress, Mercy’s muscles and reptilian eyes were intimidating. 

By working for the innkeeper, Varzo and Mercy were able to pay for the room they shared with Thalcu. Their jobs were temporary, of course, and eventually, they would have to get real jobs and start saving. Varzo was thrilled by the prospect: she was saving for her life with Mercy! She had wanted nothing else for years, and it was hard to believe it was happening now. She kept waiting for the other boot to fall, for Mercy to say the relationship was a mistake, to wake up and find Mercy no longer there. But Mercy kept being there every single day.

How you doin’, wifey?  Mercy teased, voice muffled around a cigarette.

Varzo was in the fenced backyard of the inn where the two-headed chickens roosted, sweeping up the litter that had been left by tourists passing through: paper cups, empty food cartons, wrappers. She looked up to find Mercy had come out the back door and was lighting up an organic cigarette. The cigarettes on Rig 9 were herbal and always smelled sweet. Varzo thought it was an improvement over the foul-smelling organic cigarettes Mercy used to smoke in the past.

Could be better, said Varzo, shrugging. Could be worse. This is a step up from scrubbin’ floors onna prison ship, I’ll tell you that. Varzo paused, broom in hand, and gazed off at the dusky pink sky. Yanno, I’m glad the Midnight War is over ‘cause now I can be with you. But I really wanted to see Zycun Zel get what he deserved.

Mercy grunted around her cigarette, as if she wasn’t surprised by Varzo’s thirst for vengeance.

Varzo shook her head and went back to sweeping. When I think of what all those Zeverec did to my farm, and then bein’ sent to that prison ship, and all the terrible crap I seen during the war . . . Little kids blown up and entirian heads on spikes . . . And Quinn. I watched Quinn suffer for years before I even knew her ass! I still remember her on zivi-vision, bein’ led along naked on that chain, just ah little kid! If anyone should have killed Zycun, it should have been Quinn. Calorra doin’ it was so... anti-climatic. Varzo shook her head again.

Mercy caught the cigarette in two fingers and exhaled a stream of smoke. Zycun hurt Calorra, too, Varzo. He chopped off her mother’s head in front of her. Why do you think she’s so fuckin’ crazy?

I . . .I know. But she coulda made it bad for him, you know? She blew up civilians and tortured them with moon fire but gave Zycun a quick, clean death? What bullshit is that?

When someone’s a shitty person, their punishment is bein’ a shitty person.

Varzo rolled her eyes, aggressively sweeping a plastic water bottle into her dustbin. Yeah, all right, she said, as if she didn’t agree.

Zycun never knew love, went on Mercy, gazing off, eyes narrowed in thought. He never experienced true intimacy or companionship.  Somehow, I think he was the loneliest person in the galaxy, and there’s no hell like loneliness.

Hearing the grim note in Mercy’s voice, Varzo suspected the drasian was talking about herself, not Zycun. Mercy had a way of projecting her feelings onto everyone else, as if everyone shared her experience. But Varzo doubted very much that Zycun had ever cared about experiencing real love. That had been the difference between him and Quinn: Quinn valued love, friendship, and compassion above everything, while Zycun only cared about power.

But wanting to comfort Mercy, Varzo only said, Yeah, Merce, maybe you’re right.

Mercy laughed softly, knowing she was being patronized.

My shift is almost over, said Varzo. Then we can fuck. She grinned.

Mercy laughed softly and exhaled twin flooms of smoke from her nostrils, looking at Varzo from her narrow cat-like pupils, and for the first time, Varzo thought she finally understood what the creature, Qae’okel, had probably really looked like. The dragons who’d apparently invaded ancient Qorlec and destroyed the third sun were not actual dragons or giant lizard creatures, as the entirian myths – and Quinn – had insisted. They were . . . reptilian people. Reptilian people who had likely invaded Qorlec and produced offspring with the entirian, slowly turning them to a reptilian people themselves over time.

Varzo’s theory made her wonder if the drasian homeworld, Ataka, hadn’t actually been destroyed by some bitter and vengeful entirian queen with too much power at her fingertips. Perhaps Ronim Miora had blown up Ataka using the Mahazahee. If that were true, it would make sense why Mercy had been working against the Black Hand on Earth years ago: why would she help the same people who’d destroyed her homeworld? Varzo reflected on what Mercy had said about Calorra only days before: people with too much power doing bad things because they think they’re right things.

If Quinn doesn’t come back today, if we don’t hear from her, said Varzo, I’m goin’ to Coralelle for her. You in?

Of course I am, said Mercy at once. I was gonna suggest it yesterday only . . . Whadda we do with Thalcu? She can’t fight and she can’t stay here alone.

Varzo looked up. She could sense there was something Mercy wasn’t telling her. Why not? she asked carefully. Rig 9 is pretty safe. At least it is during the day, she added somewhat bitterly.

I think Thalcu is sick, Mercy said in a low voice, as if she feared someone might hear her.

Varzo understood Mercy’s fear: someone suspected of carrying a disease would get booted off Rig 9 quick.

Sick how? Varzo pressed.

Sick like throwin’ up green shit and tryin’ to hide it. I didn’t wanna let her go into the forest today, but then she’d suspect that I know, and I wanna observe her some more.

Varzo scowled. "Observe her? She’s fucking throwing up. What else do you need to know?"

Whether it’s serious or just something she ate, Mercy returned. I don’t jump to conclusions like you.

Varzo rolled her eyes and went back to sweeping.

And she hasn’t come back yet, said Mercy heavily. She kissed out smoke, staring anxiously down the dirt road leading from the inn.

Varzo understood why Mercy was worried. It was sundown. Thalcu usually returned from the rainforest long before dark. There weren’t any predatory animals on Rig 9, but there were wandering bands of scavengers and space pirates. Though they were largely restricted to the space stations that orbited the planet, sometimes the pirates and scavengers snuck past the radar and landed on the planet itself to steal, scavenge, and make mischief. And so, while Rig 9 was a beautiful, safe, and peaceful planet, it was not so after dark.

Varzo had learned about the danger one night when she decided to go outside for a smoke. It was one in the morning, and a gang of scavengers noticed her standing outside the inn. They roughed her up thinking she had a credit chit, but all she had was her cigarettes and her phone. They left her the phone and a black eye, but they took her cigarettes. Varzo was still pissed about it and had stopped venturing out after dark. Not without her gun, Daughter Judy, anyway.

Think we should go get her? Varzo said, letting her broom lean against the fence and tossing down the dustpan. I’ll go grab Daughter Judy and we . . . What?

Mercy had held up her hand. She was staring past Varzo at the road still, and her eyes were baffled. She frowned. "Who in the fresh hell is that?"

Varzo turned. Thalcu was coming up the road in the falling dark. She was wearing an anma tunic-dress similar to Mercy’s, except she was wearing boots to make her daily trek through the rainforest easier. Walking at her side was a huge woman. Varzo blinked, and for a second, she thought she was looking at Quinn, except this woman was completely bald. The woman was muscular and fit, standing somewhere at seven feet in height, and she was wearing a leotard that wrapped around her curvy torso and bulging arms like bandages. She was carrying a silver bafflestaff that appeared somewhat similar to the Mahazahee, only it was covered in strange carved symbols and had a long, silver blade on the end rather than a crystal.

Mercy took a last drag on her cigarette, dropped it in the dirt, and crushed it out with her sandal. Come on, she said, launching over the fence and marching toward Thalcu and the stranger.

Varzo thought they should at least run upstairs for their weapons, but she hopped the fence and followed Mercy.

Thalcu and the big woman stopped when they saw Varzo and Mercy approaching. The big woman pointed her weapon at them and held out her arm, as if to shield Thalcu. Varzo and Mercy halted and held up their hands.

Whoa, whoa, said Mercy.

Looking alarmed, Thalcu bounced up on tip-toe and touched the tall woman’s muscly arm. It’s okay! she shrilled. They’re the friends I told you about. Friends!

The tall woman seemed hesitant to believe Thalcu. Her slanted eyes appraised Varzo