Prompt from "The Ultimate Science Fiction Smack Down", Round 5, April, 2022. Write a story based on the following prompts: (1) subgenre: TrashPunk; (2) H2CO3; (3) an artist; (4) a love triangle; and (5) the picture below.

Story word count = 4995

[Zeke]

Sometimes, life forced choice.

Athena, my ex-girlfriend, appeared in the grainy video, pleading, "Zeke, I need your help. Please--" My breath halted as she swung her head around to shouting out of camera view. Then it abruptly ended.

Athena was an artist and an idealist, surrealistic on both counts. She took a piece of my heart when she deserted me on a starry-eyed quest to save Delphi, a dystopian cesspool of a world even worse than Epris and Corinth. If only people would discuss their differences in a spirit of love, she thought. They didn't.

The guilt of not stopping Athena shadowed me these intervening years. I heard nothing of her until the message two days ago.

Looking over my shoulder, Mech drew her amber eyes into thin slits and firmed her lips, her go-to expression when upset with me. She wore her normal form-fitting gray work overalls smeared by her latest repair project. A functional headband held back thick, curly cinnamon-brown hair. While not glamorous by any definition, she projected a wholesome allure that radiated out from a good heart.

But not right now. "When were you going to tell me about this?" she fumed.

Makennia, who I called Mech, was my business partner and co-owner of our spaceship. We hauled contract cargos and traded within the Oracle system, which included the three habitable terraformed planets, numerous space stations, and a scattering of remote outposts. Because so few operable haulers remained, it was a profitable venture.

An ace mechanic, she was a fabricator wizard and a plasma welder prima artist. Those skills, along with upfront capital, were the primary reason we cobbled together several derelicts into one functioning spaceship. This whole venture was a long shot, I one time remarked, and that became the ship's name. I knew little about her past, other than she grew up on Delphi and wanted to escape.

I shifted in the chair, clutching a half-full mug of ale on the scratched galley table, while she stared down at me. Shuddering like a child confronted about a broken lamp, I stammered, "I... I was going to tell you--"

Balling hands into fists, her knuckles whitened. "Is that why you accepted the haul to Delphi without telling me? To be with your ex-girlfriend?" The words held an unexpected venom, even considering the situation. "We are supposed to work together! And what about the painting you hid? Is it hers?"

Shit. She found it.

Originally, we promised each other no romantic complications with our business relationship. But then it got complicated. Drunk after our first haul celebration, we fell into bed together, and have shared a cabin ever since. Truly attracted, we revised our partnership to be more a 'business partners with benefits' thing. But now, something was different.

"Umm, I bought it from a junk dealer at the Meridian Space Port. He said it came in recently from Delphi. Athena must still be there."

When I found the painting, tucked on a dingy shelf beside pump parts and power couplings, I immediately recognized it as Athena's work, especially since it carried her face. Deep blue eyes, full lips, perfect nose, and goddess-like jaw-line mesmerized me, awaking a deep yearning. It featured Athena's classic surreal style, with color fading to gray, meant to represent humanity's struggles within a bleak world. And on the back, her artist signature, dated within the last year.

It meant Athena survived the wars.

What was that saying? If Mech's look could kill, I would be dead on the floor? Yeah...

I took a swig of ale, then wiped a bit of foam from my upper lip. "This is my latest batch. I think I got the carbonic acid balance right this time."

Good ale was scarce, so I started making my own, perfecting the recipe over time.

Mech creased her forehead. "Huh?"

"You know, H2CO3? It's a complicated equilibrium, but you get it when carbon dioxide dissolves in water, although mostly it exists in ionic form as a weak acid." The creases on her forehead deepened as I continued, but so did the intensity of her glare. "It is an important parameter in the taste of beer--"

"What does that have to do with anything!" she steamed, apparently wise to my diversion tactic.

"Umm, nothing. Would you like a pint?" I said, lifting an eyebrow, hoping...

Sighing, she sat across from me. "No. I shouldn't."

My eyes widened. She usually enjoyed a good ale. And when upset with me, typically I get a cold-burn response, not such direct anger. "What's going on Mech? Why are you so angry?"

She huffed. "You're running off to your old girlfriend. Why wouldn't I be angry?"

"She needs my help! I'm not going to hook up with her. Besides, you and I have a no-commitment arrangement."

"Well, things have changed."

Here it is. "How so?" I lifted the mug to take a deep drink.

Mech paused, eyes cast down, while the question hung in the air like smoke. "I'm pregnant."

Ale spewed from my mouth in a frothy spray. My mind swirled toward darkness, caught in the black hole of potential fatherhood. I opened my mouth to say something, but all that came out was, "Uhh... How did that happen?"

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "Do I need to explain the biology?"

"But I thought you took precautions to prevent that."

"Well, it didn't work."

I grasped the table to still a dizzy feeling. "Oh, my God. This is really inconvenient."

Anger shot from Mech's narrowed eyes as she jumped to her feet. "Inconvenient! Is that all you have to say?"

"Look, I know you are upset--"

"Damn right I'm upset!" she yelled. "When I will need you the most, you decided to look up your old girlfriend!" She stomped out of the galley, nearly bowling over Elio at the hatchway.

The nine-year-old boy dropped his jaw as his eyes tracked Mech down the hallway. He turned to me with a blank facial expression, running a hand through disheveled dark-brown hair. "Is Mech mad?"

I nodded. "Yep. Definitely pissed. But at me, not you, Elio."

When we hired his destitute parents as crew, Elio and his older sister came along as part of the deal. He helps with janitorial duties and assists his dad with the cargo.

Archer, the boy's father, was our loadmaster, a massive man with a full black beard who could pass as an old-time pirate. The boy's mother, Selena, a redhead whose petite size contrasted with her husband's, was our ship engineer. Nova rounded out the family, a fifteen-year-old girl with long auburn hair. Smart and resourceful, I have been grooming her as a backup pilot.

"Maybe you should talk to her and make her feel better," Elio said with all innocence.

I opened my mouth and nearly launched into an explanation about the emotional complications, but he had a way of simplifying things. "You're right, Elio." On the way out, I ruffled his hair. "Thanks for the advice, buddy."

Mech laid on our bed, facing away from me in the dark bedroom. Through the window above the bed, countless stars circled around like a carnival carousal. Each unimaginably far, these glimpses of infinity never failed to fill me with awe. Actually, it was not the stars that circled, but us. The habitat ring, a series of interconnected chambers, spun around a central core, thus providing artificial gravity.

I sat on the bed and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, whispering, "Hey. I'm sorry. This all came as quite a shock. And I can be kinda emotionally clueless sometimes."

She snorted out a laugh. "You think?"

Never before had I seen tears on this resolute woman. Drawing her up into my arms, I wiped moisture from her coppery cheeks. "What should we do?"

Shifting around in my arms, she snuggled into me, whispering, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For saying we."

*****

Delphi loomed in the distance as we approached. I could just make out the contours of greens and browns surrounded by deep blues, all overlaid with swirling wisps of white. From up here, it looked like paradise, but on the surface, it was more of a hell. The whole Oracle system suffered from the Red Plague two generations ago, but it was especially unkind to Delphi. The plague devolved further into countless wars. Anyone with enough money or prestige fled the system, taking everything of value they could fit into their starships. The lower classes remained behind, fending for themselves among the ruins and rubbish. Warlords emerged from the chaos, providing some stability, but also perpetuating the violence.

No message came back from those who evacuated, not even an errant radio signal. For all I knew, they spread the plague and other colonized worlds suffered the same fate. Because they took all the star-drives, those of us left behind could not follow. Without faster-than-light propulsion, interstellar travel would take decades or centuries. Thus, we were on our own.

Our destination, the spaceport, appeared in the distance as a dot above the planet. It still had a functioning space elevator that rode up and down a super-strong tether, connecting port with planet surface. The most powerful warlord of Delphi, Vesh LaCroix, controlled it and much of the land below.

"Go ahead." I nodded to Nova, who sat in the pilot seat next to me.

After a gasp and widening of eyes, she keyed the com, announcing, "Delphi Port, this is Long Shot. Request permission to dock."

A response came immediately. "Long Shot, this is Delphi Port. You are cleared to dock number one."

Actually, there was only one functional dock at the station.

Nova's squeal of excitement brought a grin to my face. This will be her first time as pilot during docking maneuvers. Under my supervision, of course.

The control center sat within the center column of the ship at the bow, with panoramic windows looking out on all sides. An eclectic mix of monitoring panels, switches, and gauges, taken from multiple abandoned ships, surrounded six swivel chairs. There was no artificial gravity here, which only existed in the rotating habitat ring that surrounded us just astern. Behind metal hatches were the fusion reactors. Electrically accelerated super-heated plasma sped along a magnetically shielded pipe to the exhaust cones, thus generating thrust. Forty-two shipping pods attached to the support girders between the reactors and cones contained most of our cargo.

Mech and Selena floated by and took their seats. Archer and Elio followed, having completed final inspection of the cargo.

Selena seemed more excited about Mech's pregnancy than anyone. As for me, a million butterflies took flight in my gut every time I thought about it. Over the last month, the women spent hours discussing aspects of motherhood. At least it helped put Mech's mind more at ease.

"Easy on the aft thrusters," I cautioned Nova, who gripped the control stick tighter than needed. "We don't want to come in too fast. Fully loaded, the Long Shot has a lot of momentum. All we have to do is get close and match velocity, then we let their robotic tugs take over."

After a long journey, so easy was it to become impatient during docking. The interplanetary journeys took two to nine months, depending on orbital alignment.

I turned back to Mech. "You said you have some contacts to help us find Athena?"

"Yes, but you won't like it," she replied. "There are things about my past--" her voice trailed off.

In our dystopian existence, everyone had a shady past. "Well, it can't be more shocking than the pregnancy thing." Her tightened lips and bowed head made me gulp. "Could it?" I asked, holding back a breath.

"Umm, well..."

The beep of an incoming com interrupted her response. Selena touched a button on the engineering panel, then announced, "Secure transmission for you, Mech. Want to take it?"

"Put it through."

I swiveled around to watch as a tan-faced man with brown eyes and dark hair appeared on a display panel at Mech's station. He seemed vaguely familiar. The man's jaw line and high cheek bones were similar to her features.

"Makennia, it has been a long time," the man said with a blank facial expression.

"Yes, it has, Seth. I hope you are well," she replied with an equally blank expression.

"Your arrival is fortuitous. Father is dying. I know you had your differences, but he wants to see you one more time."

Mech gasped. Apparently, she did not know. "Of course. Can you ensure my safety?"

"I have men waiting at the port to escort you down. Besides, the Trade Covenants protect you."

Even the most ruthless warlords recognized the importance of inter-planet trade, so regulations were created to protect the traders and to ensure honest transactions. The Covenants saved my life more than once.

"I have a favor to ask, Seth," Mech said. "We are looking for a particular woman. Her name is Athena DeVries."

Seth curled a lip and narrowed his eyes. "What do you want of her?" he hissed.

"It's a personal matter."

"I know exactly where she is. That bitch was Father's mistress, and she poisoned him!"

My mind swirled. Athena, a murderess? And Seth. I remember now, he was... Oh, my god!

"Holy shit, Mech!" I blurted out. "Vesh LaCroix is your father?"

"Language, Zeke." Selena mumbled, chastising me while casting sideway glances to her son and daughter.

Mech dipped her head. "I wanted nothing to do with his legacy. So when the chance came, I left."

I choked back another expletive. "Don't you think you could have mentioned that Daddy was the most powerful warlord on Delphi?"

She wrapped her arms around herself. "We don't get to pick our parents."

As promised, three armed men, who looked like they wrestled bears for fun, met us in the port. The space-elevator ride took six hours, the air thick with silent apprehension. Mech turned to me, eyes moist and lip trembling, and I offered her my arms. I could do that for her.

Memories of Athena flickered across my mind. Good times of passion and laughter. Then she abandoned me on a foolish quest, yet my heart still yearned for her. My eyes drifted to the woman snuggled against my shoulder. What was wrong with me? Everything I should need for happiness slept in my arms.

Delphi grew larger below us, and the haphazard outlines of cities and roads came into view between the clouds. What was beautiful from orbit resolved into visions of man-made cataclysm. Fractured shells and debris piles had replaced much of a once thriving civilization. But nature did not so much mind, allowing vines and crowded trees to take over broken structures. From some buildings, laminar wisps of smoke rose where people eked out an existence among the trash left behind.

Traveling by hover-car revealed the poverty in starker detail. Suspicious eyed people in dirty, tattered clothing scattered from the muddy mist spewed by the vehicle lift-fans, crawling into makeshift structures and damaged buildings. A thin woman in a torn dress nursed an emaciated baby under a fluttering tarp. The despair on her face tore at my heart.

A white-washed building with a steeple caught my eye. People lined up behind a faded sign offering free meals. This emergent religion, which taught selfless love and compassion, was perhaps the only good thing here.

A brick bounced off the forward windscreen, leaving a jagged crack in the reinforced glass. "Damned ordures de rue," the driver muttered.

As we sped along, the living conditions got better, fewer broken windows and better repaired buildings. The road wound up a hill toward a walled mansion. Sunglass-wearing armed guards waved us through decorative iron gates. Ornately trimmed shrubbery and baskets of brightly colored flowers lined the stone-paved driveway of a massive estate sprawled across the flattened hilltop, dominated by a tall limestone mansion. Elaborate carvings lined the building, above and below an elevated walkway. From there, Lord LaCroix may gaze upon his subjects in the city below.

Such opulence, while so many people suffered in extreme poverty, turned my stomach. Mech tightened her lips and raised an eyebrow as if in apology.

A formal dressed butler opened massive carved wooden doors, letting us into a white marble floored entryway lit by colored sunlight shining through tall stain-glass windows. There, we separated, arms extending into a lingering hand-hold as we parted. Wide eyes revealed her heart. Never had she appeared so vulnerable, but before I could be what she wanted, there was something I needed to resolve.

They held Athena in a separate and rather plain block-shaped building. As I grasped the bars of the prison cell, my chest tightened around a racing heart. She sat on a thin mattress, head bowed, and knees pulled up to her chest, flowing blonde hair hiding her expression. She wore faded orange prison garb. When she looked up, a smile widened on her perfect face, only somewhat marred by bluish bruises.

God, she is beautiful, even here.

Hinges squealed as the guard swung opened the metal door. He eyed me warily before relocking it behind.

Athena rushed in, wrapping arms around my neck. "Zeke!" She tilted her head up and pressed her full lips against mine, leaning into me for a long kiss.

Old feelings and desires welled up from my core, warming my cheeks. Years ago, Athena ruled my heart and ignited my passions. Did she still?

I separated from her embrace and took a deep breath. The woman I remembered would never become mistress to a warlord, much less attempt murder. "What happened to you, Athena?"

She sat on the bed and shook her head. "You have not seen what I have seen, poverty, hunger, degradation of those LaCroix did not favor." Her eyes blazed. "They call these people Ordures de rue — street garbage! I had to do something."

"By becoming his mistress?"

"Only to get close, to spy on him. I have no love for that bastard." Athena jumped up, coming nose to nose with me, curling a lip. "Do you know what he did? He reintroduced a Red Plague variant in the streets. But it didn't work. These people have some sort of natural immunity."

Interesting. The plague reared its horrifying head every decade or so across the system, usually with devastating results. No cure existed, and re-infection was common, yet they had immunity?

Athena continued. "Now he plans a more conventional form of genocide — famine! Crops failed this year and reserves are low. He only needs to divert the food to starve the people out." She sat back down, lowering her head. "I couldn't allow that, so I took measures into my own hands. But they caught me." Lifting moist eyes, she pleaded, "Can you get me out?"

I turned toward the bars, a kind of helplessness squeezing my heart. "I have no sway here, Athena. It took all my influence just to be allowed to see you. I'm sorry."

A tear of resignation traced her cheek. "At least, could you help the people?"

"I don't know what I can do, but I will try."

"Then go to a tavern in the northern sector called the Jaded Caste. Ask for Lucas. Tell him I sent you. Please."

I nodded and rapped on the bars to catch the guard's attention, then turned back to Athena as sadness overtook me. "I wish it would have turned out different for us."

Embracing me, she said, "I know."

As the cell door slammed shut behind me, Athena called out. "Did you find someone else?"

I turned my head back. "Her name is Makennia."

Athena's eyebrows shot up. "Makennia? Do you mean--"

"Yes."

A pensive sadness followed me, but there was also a kind of liberation as I stepped into the daylight. "Goodbye, Athena," I whispered to the cosmos, releasing her.

*****

[Mech]

Letting Zeke go to Athena was difficult. He had never gotten over their split and she still lured him like a siren. Part of me feared I might lose him.

When I came of age, I fled this place and never wanted to come back. Not to a ruthless father that valued power over charity and pride over compassion, no matter how luxurious the life. Yet here I am.

My heart lodged in my throat as a servant opened the ornate bedroom doors, ushering Seth and me inside. Seth whispered in my ear, "Father barely holds on."

"Makennia, come. Let me see you," a feeble voice called from the bed. "My prayers are answered."

Prayers? He was never one for religion, nor its call for charity, but facing death changes a man.

Father's appearance shocked me. The incurable poison had devastated a once strong man, leaving a paled and trembling shell at the edge of death. Tubes ran under the white sheets that covered him, and multiple monitors drew colored lines above his head.

I took up a frail hand on one side of the bed, while Seth held the other. A cloud of guilt cast shadows over my heart. It had been so long.

"I know we have our differences, but you have done well for yourself, Makennia," Father said with a weak smile.

I nodded. "Thank you, Father. That means much to me."

"And your partner, Ezekiel Quinn, does he treat you well?"

"He does. Zeke is a good man."

Father squeezed our hands. "Both my children together. Now I may die in peace."

He did. Upon closing his eyes, the monitors drew straight lines.

I bent down and kissed his forehead, whispering, "Farewell, Father."

My mind swirled. Should I be relieved that a brutal man died, or mourn a father's passing? But all I felt was a distant numbness.

I took in my brother's eyes. "It falls on you now, Seth. What will you do?"

Seth's face contorted and he bared teeth. "The Ordures de rue shall pay for this, ten-thousand fold! Starting with their murderess."

"Seth, no," I pleaded. "Do not repeat the mistakes of our father. Violence begets violence. They will retaliate and countless will die."

"Peace?" Seth scoffed. "You have been gone too long, little sister! And now you come and tell me what must be done? They would slaughter us if given a chance. Even now, the rebels prepare an attack." He took a long breath and shook his head. "There is something else you do not understand. Food is short and famine comes. Someone must make the hard decisions. Better they starve than us."

"Please, Seth. Then, let me find a way."

He glared at me and blew a puff of air out his nose. "You may try, Makennia. You have until the mourning period ends. But regardless, the murderess dies tomorrow!" Seth stomped out of the bedroom.

I rubbed my not yet swollen belly. In these fallen worlds, so many desperate people waded through the trash of past civilizations. And yet, I dared bring new life? Was hope only the deceiver of virtues?

When we met again in the foyer, I ran into Zeke's arms, letting his familiar warmth flow through me. He whispered in my ear, "I heard. I am sorry, Mech."

"I fear," I said, pulling back in his arms, "that death will consume this world. If not famine, then vengeance."

"I have an idea," he said. "But it will cut into our profit margin."

A smile rose on my face. "I was thinking the same thing."

"Okay. You need to convince your brother and I need to meet with a rebel leader."

"I'm going with you," I said with all the confidence I could muster.

"No." Zeke rubbed my belly. "And you know why."

Pressing in, I gave him a kiss to remember, then whispered, "Come back to me."

After he parted, there was one more person I needed to see.

Athena glanced up as I grasped the cell bars. My heart sunk. She had a physical beauty I could never hope to match. No wonder she attracted Zeke.

"You must be Makennia," she said. "Your father spoke well of you."

"He's dead."

Athena shook her head. "I will not say I am sorry for his death. Why are you here?"

"You will be publicly executed tomorrow, probably something painful, knowing my brother. I've come to offer you another choice. If you want it." I held out a plastic bottle with several pills. "A death painless and private."

Athena took the bottle and narrowed her eyes. "Does this absolve your guilt?"

"I am not my father! I do this to avoid the bloodshed your public killing would bring. And for Zeke."

"You love him," Athena said as a statement, not a question.

"Yes."

She rolled the bottle, letting the pills tumble. "Do one other thing for me. Take care of Zeke."

"I will."

As I walked away, a dark guilt shrouded me. Were my motives selfish, to claim Zeke for myself? No, Athena's fate was sealed, and this was best for everyone.

*****

[Zeke]

In the Jaded Caste, a rundown tavern that reeked of body odor and stale beer, I hardly had two swigs of sour ale before someone yanked a dark hood over my head, bound my hands, and roughly dragged me out.

Apparently, I got their attention.

After a bumpy and uncomfortable ride, curled up in a space that stank of aged manure, they reversed the process, except my hands remained bound behind my back. Pushed down roughly into a hard chair, someone snatched off the hood. I blinked against a bright light directly above in an otherwise dark building. My heels dug shallow furrows in the dirt floor while shadowy figures shifted just beyond the light's reach.

"Why should we not kill you?" a deep male voice said.

"That just wouldn't be polite," I responded with a straight face. "Besides, I am protected by the Trade Covenants."

"The Covenants mean nothing here, Ezekiel Quinn. Yes, we know who you are and that you came from the LaCroix place. What do you want?"

"To stop the killing. Athena sent me. You are Lucas, I presume?"

A tall man wearing dark clothes stepped into the light with his arms crossed. Staring down at me, his dark suspicious eyes softened and lips parted. "How does she fare?" His mannerisms suggested he cared for her.

"She is imprisoned within the mansion grounds. They will execute her soon." I glared and spat my words. "Was it you who sent her there to die?"

Lucas turned away. "She was only to spy, to tell us of LaCroix's plans. The assassination attempt was by her own initiative."

"Well, she succeeded. Vesh LaCroix just died. And now his son promises revenge. When will the killing end?"

Spinning around, Lucas grabbed handfuls of my shirt and yanked me up from the chair, shaking. Coming face to face, fire shot from his eyes and he hissed through clenched teeth. "What choice do we have? The elites would starve us out if we did nothing!"

"I cared for Athena too," I responded in a gentle voice. "Her fate is sealed, but we have a chance to honor her by preventing the deaths of those she protected."

Releasing his grip, Lucas dropped me back onto the chair. "How?"

"The first step is an armistice. All hostile activities by both sides must stop."

"What good is that? Famine comes anyway, Ezekiel, and my people would still starve. How could you solve that?"

"A trading agreement, protected under provisions of the Trade Covenants. I will dedicate my next ten hauls, shipping food, medicine, and agricultural supplies to this world. And as a token of good will, two pods of raw grains now waiting at the spaceport above us will be delivered to you. And also, a keg of my own ale. The stuff at the tavern tastes like watered-down horse piss."

For a moment, a half-grin appeared on Lucas' face, then faded. "We are a poor people, and have nothing to trade."

"Vesh LaCroix called your people garbage, but one man's trash is another's treasure. Athena told me they are immune to the Red Plague?" I asked, to which Lucas nodded. "The sickness still rages and there is no cure. Yet. The other worlds would be greatly interested in determining how you became immune. We could leverage that."

Lucas put a hand to his chin. "How can we trust the LaCroix?"

"It is a leap of faith, Lucas, for both sides. And in that vein, I propose that the religious leaders take charge of distribution."

*****

After the grueling day, Mech and I collapsed onto a mansion guest bed. Like me with Lucas, she convinced her brother to give peace a chance. Tomorrow, we would work out the details.

"Do you think it will work?" she asked.

"I don't know," I answered. "A society has momentum like our freighter, and it takes considerable force to change direction. But I am hopeful."

Mech purred as I drew her into my arms, letting her head nestle into my shoulder and triggering a warm bliss within my heart. Everything about us felt right.

I whispered, "I would like to alter our partnership."

"Hmm?"

"Let's make it permanent and binding."

She shifted over me, coming nose to nose. The moist warmth of her breath slid across my cheeks. "Zeke, are you asking me to marry you?"

"I am. I love you Mech and want us to be a family."

At first, her soft lips grazed against mine with the gentlest of touch, teasing, luring me in. Threading fingers into cinnamon curls, I pulled her down, demanding more. She responded, pressing in and inviting my tongue to dance with hers. Heart connected to heart, and my entire body tingled as the kiss lingered on.

Eventually, Mech raised up, breathless. Then she whispered in an airy voice, "I accept your proposal."