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The term jump was what Arn and his jumpers had given to the teleportation that the crystals produced. There were many forms of jumping but without proper training and knowledge of the crystals’ properties, the jumper would lose consciousness and develop amnesia upon awaking on the other side.
Graduation to become a person depended on performing such a jump. You were expected to survive wherever you ended up and upon recovering your memory, jump back to the Virulian temple where you would be welcomed as an official member of the spy organization.
When Rafian jumped he ended up in the galaxy of Luca, on a small moon called Talula, with his only memory being his name.
It was midnight, and the clean night smell was welcoming to his nostrils, especially after a long day of running madly through the wilderness where he had appeared after the jump. He had awoken in a wilderness lush with olive-colored foliage, blue flowers, and streams of pinkish water that reflected the tiny sun that illuminated the moon.
Looming like a giant eye above him was a beautiful blue-and-green planet, and though he knew enough to realize that he was an educated man, Rafian was still unsure as to what may have caused such deep memory loss. He walked for a number of days before he saw the lights of a city and made his way towards it.
On his journey out of the wilderness, he found an abandoned camp with some leftover food inside a tent. About a mile or so later, he came across the bodies of the campers, who seemed to have been mauled by a large animal. He rummaged through their clothing and collected the coins and items that they had on their persons.
While he had no memory, he felt as if he knew everything about the people of the city. His deep thoughts were soon interrupted by gunfire, and he dashed to the sidewalk to avoid being hit. Some men were pursuing a darkly-clad man, exchanging shots midstride and endangering anyone unfortunate enough to be in their way.
Ducking behind a bench, Rafian watched the fight continue until the man killed the two pursuers with expert aim and precision. With his heart pounding, Rafian snuck behind the closest building and dashed towards the next intersection. Looking around for any more trouble, he spotted a lively saloon and made his way into its doorway.
The saloon was bustling with activity. It seemed as if the entire city were there. Rafian walked in and checked his pockets as if more credits—other than the two hundred he had already taken—would magically appear. To his dismay, there was no such magic, so he tried to find a private area where he wouldn’t be tempted to spend the few that he had.
He looked around for some time and eventually spotted an empty booth towards the back of the saloon. He started making his way towards it—
“Wa'rcuka su sra koruum, romdkuka!” a short humanoid female said as she stepped in front of him to bar his way.
“Hello,” Rafian said, astonished by how bold this woman was. She wore a very short skirt and a golden top that left nothing to the imagination. Her hair was cropped short and accented by azure fanlike frills. Her skin was a light tan and was complemented by lovely, full lips, tinted blue to complete the ensemble.
Rafian didn’t know what she was as yet another thread of familiarity broke through his amnesia. Apparently, she was a prostitute who smelled the off-worlder on him and had moved to meet him as soon as he came in.
Seeing the surprise in his eyes, the girl introduced herself as Riyah Mist and took his arm as he walked to his table. The fur couch felt like heaven as he sat across from her and he relaxed for the first time in two days. Scanning the saloon, he noticed the walls were made of stone. The bar itself was also made from a rocklike substance, and the glasses all had a dark transparency that made it difficult to tell what fluid was being poured into them.
The clientele was a mix of alien races, and very few resembled him and Riyah. People were staring, but most were caught up in their own conversations and drinking without a care in the world.
“Su, vrara ora aeui kruk?” Riyah asked as she seductively ran her right leg up Rafian’s left. She was smiling with her tongue between her teeth and wiggling to let him know that she was hot.
Rafian shrugged at her. “I have no idea what you’re saying to me, lady.” He stared helplessly at her. Riyah recognized what was happening and then excused herself and left the table. Rafian watched her walk away, thinking he had annoyed her, but she returned and clipped something on his ear and then sat back down and smiled.
He reached up and touched the device, which was clipped in securely, making it hard for him to remove it. When he tried to tear it off she slapped his hand, and then pointed to her mouth, which he found odd. She held his face steady, then the earpiece sent a shock into his head that caused him to jump up out of the seat.
“The hell is going on?” he said to her, wondering if she had drugged him.
“That’s much better. Now we can communicate. You must not travel a lot.”
Rafian reached up and touched his ear, which was now tender to the touch. Whatever had been done to him had allowed him to speak and hear her language, and he found that he could understand the other patrons that were inside the busy saloon, as well. He took his hand from his ear and retook his seat, then stared at the beauty in front of him.
He felt as if he had to keep his cool, as this woman seemed like she was after the few credits he had and nothing else. With much effort, he concentrated on this fact. She wasn’t his friend; she didn’t care about where he was from, and she would gladly rob him and leave him as dead as the men he had witnessed getting shot earlier.
Riyah flashed a toothy smile and asked, “What do you do? Are you an officer or merchant? I can’t imagine anyone else outside of that hopping around the galaxy.”
Looking up at the dance floor with a distance in his eyes, Rafian replied, “I don’t know.”
In a strange, awkward moment, Riyah Mist stared at Rafian as if trying to read the thoughts in his head.
“You do understand what this is, right? Why I’m giving you so much of my time?”
Rafian brushed it off and scanned the room. He was not sure what he was doing or why the words flowed from his mouth so effortlessly, but he kept his mouth shut, partly hoping that the prostitute could read more into who he was and tell him.
“You’re a prostitute, right? You want me to pay you for sex.”
As she answered, Rafian missed it as he spotted what he was looking for. A large brute—who seemed out of place in the saloon—kept glancing in his direction as he and Riyah spoke. Either the brute wanted Riyah badly or he was her “manager.” Rafian suspected the latter, and, turning back to the beauty, he thought about what his next move should be.
“Price sounds fine, where should we go? Do you have a place nearby with a bed?”
Smiling that toothy smile of hers, Riyah replied, “I want to see what YOU have to offer, outsider. I will be right back,; don’t you go anywhere. We can head out once I return.”
She swayed her hips off towards the saloon’s hole and Rafian crossed the room behind her, trying to mask his intentions as best he could. As they stepped into the bathroom lobby area, the brute pursued so Rafian slid a knife into the palm of his hand and held it close to his body. Time crawled by, seeming like eons as he let the calm settle within as he neared the women’s bathroom door.
Why am I doing this, why do I know to do this? He thought. Why don’t I just leave this place and let the prostitutes and pimps get on with their lives?
The lobby emptied conveniently, and he paused outside the bathroom door as the brute approached for the usual robbing and easy money. Rafian drove the knife under his exposed chin, withdrew his blade, and in a matter of seconds slit his throat and buried the knife hilt deep into his solar plexus. The dead man collapsed into him, and Rafian grabbed him and shoved his body into a nearby closet.
Things were really bumping in the saloon, and the band’s loud melody and the fortunate timing made killing the pimp almost symphonic. Rafian’s original plan had been to po
ssibly scare the man, but he knew the empty lobby was a sign. At least he thought it was a sign.
He checked for blood on his person and secured his mood. Then he stepped into the women’s bathroom where Riyah was waiting, smoking a cigarette and looking at herself in the mirror. Apparently this was the usual activity for beauty and the beast. The lobby had not cleared by accident, since she was waiting for the murdering brute to come in and deliver money from Rafian’s corpse.
She played it cool as he entered, but her puzzled expression was an open book.
“What’s the matter? I would think you didn’t expect me,” Rafian mocked, smiling widely as if he were being genuine.
“So, should we go find a room?” she asked coolly and he couldn’t help but respect how quick she was. He knew that she wouldn’t make noise about the pimp and assumed that he’d done her a favor. He took her up on her offer and the pair left the saloon through the back with the brute’s corpse bleeding out inside of the closet.
Memory 15 | Riyah of Talula
The instinct to know a prostitute and her predatory boss, and the ease in which he dispatched him consumed Rafian VCA. These skills bothered him as he lay next to the prostitute, trying to figure out who he was and why he had done those things. It had come so easily to him, those killer moves, and while they made love, Riyah couldn’t stop remarking on how sculpted his body was.
Maybe I’m a soldier who lost his memory, he thought, or some sort of criminal assassin. He hated the darkness that was his memory and hoped that he wasn’t on the run from someone dangerous.
“Okay big guy, let’s have a talk,” Riyah said as she came from the bathroom fully dressed. “Where exactly are you from, and why is it that I have never seen anyone like you before?”
Rafian shrugged and dismissed the question, then stood up in front of her. He tapped his head. “I have no memory—”
“Uh huh, but you had enough memory to wipe the floor with Burdok, as if he was a fifty-pound child. You kill my guy and then lie next to me and sleep without a care in the world. Who does that? I ask myself and I think, a crazy person, but you don’t act crazy and you make no sense to me.”
“No memory,” Rafian repeated, “except my name. It’s Rafian VCA. You don’t have to believe me but what would be the point of everything I did yesterday?”
Riyah seemed to think about it and it made her more confused so she grunted with frustration and sat on the bed. “Well, you killed my bodyguard, so you’re going to have to replace him. Consider it repayment for that translator I clipped you with.”
“I need to remember who I really am. No part of that includes me playing bodyguard to a prostitute. I don’t know what I have to do to regain my memory, but I know I can’t do it by myself. How much do you make a day, doing what you do? I can find a way to pay you for your time, and you can help me get my memory back.”
Riyah almost laughed when he said this, but Rafian was seriously determined. “I make 500 credits a day,” she lied, “but unless you remember that you’re a rich noble from Veece, you won’t be able to afford my rate.”
“So, basically you don’t want to help me,” Rafian quipped.
“You killed my bodyguard!”
“Oh, come on, if that was a bodyguard then I’m a galactic god or something. That thing was an abusive pimp and you have bruises all over your body to prove it.”
Riyah got quiet and collected her clothes, then picked up her bag and walked to the door. “There are 100 credits missing from your pants. I’m letting you know since that’s my rate and I don’t want you coming after me to kill me, too. You’re scary and I’m in over my head, but let me tell you how life works. My ‘pimp’ as you called it was a necessary part of the job; without him I wouldn’t last long in that saloon as a freelancer. So think about it and if you’re really what you say, you’ll come back in to keep an eye on me.”
She left the hotel room and closed the door and Rafian stared after her, wondering what to do.