Page 1 of Stalker

CHAPTER 1

BRUTICUS

The star-speckled void stretches before me, each point of light a reminder of the vastness between me and my goal. A child two rows ahead peeks through the gap between seats, her eyes wide at my bone spurs.

"Mommy, why does that man have spikes?" The child's innocent tone does little to belay my sour mood.

"Don't stare, honey. Just... don't look at him." The mother has the right of it. But asking a child not to be curious is like asking an ocean not to be deep.

The mother yanks her daughter back into her seat. My jaw clenches, bone grinding against bone.

A Zentaurian businessman across the aisle clutches his briefcase closer. The irony of a six-armed alien finding me threatening would be amusing if I weren't so tired of it all.

"Did you hear about the Reaper attack on Proxima II?" A whisper from behind, not quite quiet enough.

"Terrible business. They say the whole colony...even the women and children."

I press my forehead against the cool glass. Alpha Centauri Station grows larger in the viewport, its glassteel domes glinting like dewdrops in the starlight. Somewhere in those sprawlingcities, Daniels sits in his office, probably sipping brandy and counting his credits.

The passenger beside me shifts away when my knuckles crack. Twenty years I've hunted him. Twenty years since I watched him execute my mother with that grandfatherly smile on his face.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're beginning our final approach to Silver Gateway. Please secure all belongings..."

A young couple hurries past my seat toward the lavatory, giving me a wide berth. The woman's perfume carries notes of fear. My bone spurs itch with the tension in the cabin, but I force myself to remain still. Let them stare. Let them whisper.

Soon none of it will matter.

The massive station dominates the viewport now, dwarfing even my expectations. Hundreds of ships dart around its perimeter like fireflies, their running lights creating rivers of motion against the backdrop of space. The glassteel domes stretch for kilometers, housing entire cities beneath their crystalline surfaces.

"Approach vector gamma-seven cleared. Estimated docking time: eight minutes."

The cabin erupts in a flutter of activity. Passengers reach for overhead compartments, chattering about dinner reservations and shopping plans.

"I heard the Crystal Gardens are spectacular this time of year."

"The restaurants in Dome Five? To die for."

A guide ship zips past our viewport, its warning lights pulsing red and blue. Red and blue. Just like that day. The memories surge forward, unbidden.

Red emergency lights had bathed the corridor in blood. Mother's face, determined even as she pushed me into the maintenance shaft. "Stay quiet, my brave boy."

"Final approach. Please remain seated."

Blue security lights strobing through the grate as boots thundered past my hiding spot. Mother's voice, steady and defiant.

"It's okay, baby. The Reapers just want food and medical supplies, not slaves, they'll let us go once the Helios Combine pays the ransom."

"The dome architecture is amazing. Look at those support struts!" Shouts a Fratvoyan engineer with glee.

The guide ship's lights continue their rhythm. Red. Blue. Red. Blue.

A Reaper raiding captain, thin and weak from parastiic infection, limping toward a bulkhead door, expecting to find medicine. Expecting to find life.

Instead, there was only death.

Thunder and screams pierce the air as power-armored marines storm through the bulkhead. Their heavy boots shake the deck plates. Plasma bolts streak across the corridor in deadly arcs of blue-white fire.

"No! Stop! We're hostages!" Mother's voice cuts through the chaos.

---