Blood Gamble

Haven't done one of these in a while. A short(ish) Flash Fiction story with some lore and worldbuilding. Hope you enjoy!

"You are so fa'rahkked! My mother will come for me, and you'll regret the day you laid hands–"

The slap was wet and without warning. It stung against Hughro's tender cheek, turning his surprised anger into entitled rage.

"I'll have your hand for that! I'll have it cut off and fed to–"

Another wet slap, this time on his left cheek.

"Boyh, your mother has no power heah. Youh have no power heah. Your threats and promises carry less value than the breath youh used to make them."

Hughro glared at the freakishly tall and thin blonde man who spoke before shifting his attention to the dark-skinned woman with green eyes, snarling as he opened his mouth.

"I'll–"

The woman moved like lightning, kicking her slender stiletto high-heeled foot upward and against the bottom of Hughro's chin with exact precision, slamming his teeth into each other with a sickening crunch.

"Enough, or I'll pull your tongue from your mouth and elastrate it with a used rubber until it rots off in your mouth."

Hughro's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell unconscious, collapsing forward onto the rusted metal tiles of the livestock freighter.

"I could've handled the boyh."

"Could have and would have are two separate beasts Mickael."

"I would've handled the boyh, Miss Aaliyah."

"And yet I had to."

Mickael's blue eyes flashed with fiery resentment.

"Oh? My admonishment angers you?"

"No, Miss Aaliyah. I– Old habits, is all."

"I'd kill those old habits if I were you, or they may land you on a spacewalk without a suit."

"Yes– Miss Aaliyah."

Mickael hated Aaliyah right now. He had volunteered for this position, thinking if he could impress her, the big boss, it would open doors to a promotion within the syndicate.

"Mickael, you joined this operation– my operation out of your own accord. You chose to be my right-hand man for this. Do you regret your choice?"

"My place is heah."

Mickael's accent was full of breath, a common tell that he grew up on the outer belts where the air was intentionally made thinner to stretch oxygen reserves. No matter how hard he or others like him tried adjusting to a regular atmosphere, they all tended to gulp down the abundance of air like drowning koi.

"Good."

Mickael kicked at Hughro's ribs– something Hughro would feel when he came to again.

"What do weh do with the boyh. He's right about his mother, she'll cohme for him."

"If the senator is smart, she'll will pay the ransom."

"And if she isn't? If she doesn't?"

"Then we'll release her precious boy to her, piece by piece."

Mickael nodded.

"Now tie him before he wakes. Make sure it's nice and tight so it causes the maximum discomfort to remind him who is in charge."

"Yes, Miss Aaliyah."

...

Eight hours later, there was an alarm.

"The senator found us. The boyh must have a tracker."

"I knew she would, but I was hoping she would make better choices."

"Can weh run?"

Aaliyah studied the flashing information on the screen.

"I'm impressed. She pulled out all the stops and called in every favour she had. It's a black ops squad."

"So weh take them out?"

"Mickael, have you ever seen a mah'matahri squad in action?"

"Mah'matarhi?"

"Yes, Mah'abeu matahri specializing in zero-g infiltrations."

"I– no?"

"They don't fight like marines. They don't wear power armour, and they only use blades."

"They have knives, but weh have guns. Weh can take them."

Aaliyah smiled and ignored Mickael's comment.

"A mah'matahr commando is fearless, no sane person would allow themselves to be shot into the vast void of space at 200 meters per second with only a skinsuit, a blade, two grappling whips and 40 minutes of air."

"All I'm hearing is they are fast and easy to squish. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal? They're fast, they use momentum and grappling whips to move silently and undetected. They're probably twice as intelligent as the smartest person you know, and they fight like possessed Martian tunnel rats high on M-53."

"Oh. So, no guns then?"

"Guns only work when you can aim them fast enough at what you're trying to shoot, and mah'matahri are faster. It's quite an honour– It means they are finally starting to take us seriously."

"What do weh do?"

"Get the boy, tell him what's happening and bring him here."

...

"They're about to breach! There's nothing else weh can do!"

Hughro was on his knees with his arms tied behind his back, laughing, spittle flying from his bloodstained teeth while he shouted.

"I told you my mother would come for me! I knew she wouldn't give a single credit to the Abbadi Syndicate. You're all animals, and you'll be put on trial as animals. I'll pour out a drink and piss on it in your remembrance when you're executed on the live holostreams."

Aaliyah dropped to her knees beside Hughro, removing her stiletto heels from her feet.

"Ha! You can beg all you want; it's too late now to–"

Hughro's eyes widened as he looked down to his stomach where Aaliyah had stabbed him with the magnetic stiletto heel of her shoe, puncturing his navel and dragging the heel upward towards his lungs, tearing skin and flesh alike while grinning at him.

"–Why? You– you lost. Why would you–?"

Aaliyah licked her lips before she leaned in to whisper in Hughro's ear.

"Because I could. And because your mother needs to learn that I keep my promises. All she had to do was pay the ransom. It wasn't even that large. It was a token amount really, less than what she earns in a month, but now you know how little your mother valued your life."

Hughro coughed up blood, splattering some of it on Aaliyah's brows and nose, but she was unphased. She leaned in even closer, moving her lips to hover over his as she watched the life drain from his eyes, inhaling deeply as Hughro exhaled his dying breath.

"See Mickael, this is why you should never gamble without rigging the game. The senator rolled the dice, and she paid the price."

Mickael twitched uncomfortably. His old crew used to call him crazy. They told each other that Mickael's mind wasn't all there, that's why he wasn't afraid of anything, but this woman– this slender and easily underestimated woman scared the alku'ahf out of him.

"What– What do weh do now?"

"Are you ready to die for the cause? Will you welcome being a martyr for what you believe in?"

Mickael stood dumbstruck, staring at Aaliya.

"I– It's not like weh have options."

"There are always options, but I want to know, are you ready to die?"

Mickael closed his eyes and nodded as he made peace with himself. He was born into a life of misery, and this wasn't the worst way to go.

"I'm ready, yes."

"Good, that's all I needed to know. You won't be dying today."

"Miss?"

"The freighter is rigged with explosives that will arm the moment we launch our getaway capsule."

"Wait– there's a getaway capsule?"

Aaliyah smirked.

"I hope you don't vomit easily. It's a livestock re-entry capsule strapped with as many rockets as we could fit onto it. It's going to be one hell of a ride out of here."

"Youh– Youh knew the senator wouldn't payh?"

"I suspected, but I didn't know."

"That's why you– did all this."

"Like I said, I don't gamble unless I rigged the game, and now the solar system will know that the Abaddi Syndicate isn't playing games. The next time we make a move, they'll watch, and the next time we make a demand, they'll listen. This is just the beginning."