Destiny's Blood (32 page)

And how that strength would help them carry through.

C
HAPTER
30

A
vienne watched the great purple cloud swallow
Destiny,
the ship’s starboard hull crushing as though a giant fist had slammed into it. One of its engines had twisted sideways and was slowly being pulled off its hinges by the odd strength of Mirial’s shields. When the engine vanished into the purple clouds, she realized it was probably the last she would ever see of her home. Home. She had wanted to leave it, yes, but she had also wanted to be able to come back when her heart chose to.

The numbness of her body spread to her soul. Beside her, Zortan said nothing, looking down at the panel read-outs from time to time to make sure they were still headed in the right direction.

Avienne wanted to scream and part of her wished that Zortan would, to help free her pain, trapped within her unresponsive body.

As though feeling her need, Zortan softly began singing. His voice was strong and hit more notes than it missed. The sound filled the shuttle and Avienne closed her eyes and let it fill her, too. She knew this song. It was a song she had sung since she was little, a song to welcome sailors home after a long journey.

A song she had heard nowhere else but on the
Destiny
, and she now understood that it must have been a song from Mirial. Now Zortan was singing it for the
Destiny
.

She wished she could join him.

“Avienne?” The voice flared from the communications panel and Zortan turned it on to reply. Nothing happened.

Blood and bones!
Travan had been scheduled to repair this shuttle, but had never gotten around to it.

She swallowed hard, feeling the lump in her throat. It felt good to regain some sensation, even if that sensation happened to be discomfort.

“Avienne,” Ardin continued, “I’m reading an explosion on the
Destiny
. Something’s wrong. I’m heading back to check it out.” He paused. “Stay on course. We’ll meet you on Mirial, with Cailan in tow.”

Avienne managed to moan. It was low and guttural and all she could do, but the moan carried from deep within her throat into the shuttle. Zortan tensed beside her, and Avienne knew he feared for Layela, the girl he had sworn a lifetime ago to protect.

“I’m going to try to follow,” Zortan said. He grabbed the controls firmly and pulled them back toward him to stop forward thrust.

“Hold your course,
Destiny 3
,” another voice boomed over the communication link, and Avienne recognized it as Gobran Kipso’s. Before them, out of a swirl, emerged the
Victory
and a number of smaller ships, all the survivors of Mirial’s once-proud fleet.

“Hold course or we will have to fire on you,” Kipso paused. “I would rather not do that.”

The communications clicked off and around them, vanishing and re-emerging through the thick clouds, the Mirial fleet closed in. They were surrounded. If Avienne could have moved, she would have tried to lose them in the clouds. She would have escaped them and gotten Ardin away from the
Destiny
.

“Avienne,” Ardin’s voice came up again. “Avienne, the
Destiny’s
in bad shape.” She heard him take in a breath of stale shuttle air. “Her starboard engine is completely gone, and she’s without lights and power. I can’t hail Cailan, but we’re boarding her now to get him out, if he’s still in there.” He paused. “Blood and bones, Avienne, you’d better be all right, yourself.”

Zortan sat up, his spine straight and his hand dropping down to the pommel of the sword resting beside his chair. As Avienne wondered if he could somehow sense that Layela was in danger, an explosion rang across the communications system from Ardin’s shuttle. Avienne held her breath.

They had been in the shuttle bay when the Destiny exploded!

“Ar..” Her body had started to regain feeling and she might have been able to whisper his name, but her mind and soul were captured in the clutches of loss and her voice failed her.

Tears coursed down her face, but she couldn’t bring her hand up to wipe them away. She couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or the shock that caused her continued paralysis.

Zortan sat still beside her, silent and unmoving as their shuttle glided along with Mirial’s fleet. Gobran spoke softly.

“My sincerest condolences. The
Destiny
and her crew will not be forgotten.” And the system went quiet, Gobran Kipso probably already planning his next step and leaving the
Destiny’s
carcass behind.

Avienne understood him, in a way. For him, there was still Yoma, parading as Layela on the great beast before them. But for Avienne, who only wanted to grab the controls and find her brother or die trying, there was nothing left.

Nothing at all.

i

Captain Kipso stood beside his chair, the tension on his bridge as palpable as the shields of Mirial which nuzzled at the
Victory
. Gobran was not fooled by their appearance, knowing that any ship not built with the correct combination of alloys and ether would crumble at their touch. For the thousandth time he wondered if that was what had doomed the
Destiny
 
—
 
a shabby repair job done quickly and without the right plates. A repair job his crew had completed under his supervision.

For the thousandth time, the same answer haunted him as he clutched the back of his chair. There was no point dwelling on it.
Destiny’s
fate had been sealed long before Gobran had found her again.

The jostling stopped and the ship suddenly glided forward easily. The sky cleared and the screen dimmed to compensate for the great light that now washed over them: Light from the first and purest sun.

Before them lay Mirial. The great sun of Mirial was tired and not nearly as bright as Gobran remembered. Long ago, it had warmed his skin in the summer. He wondered if the sunsets were still riddled with the deepest of blues, reds and oranges. Now, as far as the eye could see around the sun, the universe was purple, proving that the shields were still strong.

Caught in the sun’s gravity, a chunk of planet floated not far from the
Victory
, the giant piece of rock black and charred and desolate. The planet had been small and, like all planets this near to Mirial, Gobran knew it had once borne life. Slowly it rotated, half of it still showing the sphere it had once been, the other half crumbled and destroyed, its exposed core frozen and hard.

“Is that…” Loran began.

“No,” Gobran whispered. “Our home was protected by strong ether.” After years of studying the maps of his home, always thinking of where Mirial was now in her orbit, always prepared for the day when he would find the heir and bring her home, he knew where to look. He wished he felt pride and not simply dread as he pointed to the right. Just at the sun’s edge, a small dark dot crossed against the dimmed ball of light. His voice was hushed as he spoke the words he had waited so long to speak.

“That...is Mirial.”

He could not see the surface of the planet from here, only that it still existed. He forced himself to stay where he was and not take a step forward to try to get a better view. Despite his confident words to Loran, he still wanted to see for himself that Mirial had been protected. A chill caught hold of him and went to his bones, and he wished he could be there now, warmed by her sun, laughing with his wife and children on the great sandy shores of Glass Lake. To be warm again.

“Captain,” Loran’s voice was a welcome distraction. “We’re being contacted. Channel 000.” Gobran sucked in his breath. Channel 000 was the capital’s military frequency. For the first time in almost twenty years, he would be in contact with Mirial.

He took a deep breath and held out his chest just a bit. Not caring that they could not see him, he straightened his jacket.

“Open a channel,” he replied, and Loran nodded. He felt a collective breath being held by all the crew members
 
—
 
the older ones who were still haunted by memories of Mirial, and the younger ones who were spurred on by their hopes and their longing for a true home.

“This is Captain Gobran Kipso of the
Victory
.” His voice was clear, strong, and proud. He flushed. “We are approaching the planet, E.T.A. 47 minutes.” He hesitated, and decided not to mention the heir. There would be time for that yet. “Request permission to land at the capital.”

The pause on the other end lingered just a bit too long. Gobran’s heart skipped a few beats, and then gained a few more as the answer came. “This is Alecya Kipso,” the voice rang high with laughter and relief. “Welcome home, Father.”

Gobran laughed until his sides hurt and his eyes filled with years of unshed tears.

i

“You might want to straighten us out,” Avienne said from her seat, leaning back as she closed and opened her left fist, testing her returning strength. Zortan grunted and the shuttle jostled in the general direction of the
Victory’s
bay. “I meant straighten us towards the bay,” Avienne clarified.

“This is not my area of expertise,” Zortan said through clenched teeth, his tall, strong frame awkward in the small shuttle.

“I would have never guessed,” Avienne said, pleased her words were no longer slurred. “Let me have a try at her.” She pushed herself up, feeling a bit dizzy but stronger by the minute.

“Are you sure you can handle her?” Zortan asked. She grasped the controls before her and switched main flight to her console.

“No.” She shot him a grin. “But I am sure that we’ll wind up with our noses flat against the
Victory
if you try.”

The controls jostled in her hands, and it felt good to hold them steady and urge the shuttle towards the
Victory’s
open mouth. The numbness still cast a thin veil between her and reality, but she suspected it no longer had much to do with the drugs.

Victory
was an impressive ship, a model Avienne guessed was just a bit younger than the
Destiny
. Her hull was smaller and sleeker, but less care had been taken with her design. Gun towers were pulling back into the hull as they approached, so the more delicate equipment would not detach during atmospheric entry.

Her viewing ports were sparse, but they were all lit, meaning this ship was still at full power. She guessed they had stashed her away and maintained her upkeep
 
—
 
unlike the
Destiny
, which had flown steadily and without pause.

“She’s a beauty,” Avienne said as they entered the shuttle bay, unlocked the wheels and gently landed.

“She was actually considered quite ugly when she was built,” Zortan voiced as the bay pressurized around them. Avienne urged the shuttle forward on its wheels. When it came to a stop, they waited for the doors to open. “But, then again, she was sister to a much greater ship.”

Avienne gave him a slight grin. “She was a great ship, wasn’t she?”

Zortan smiled, his features softening. Avienne suddenly wondered if perhaps he was a father. Another mystery with no answer. “She was the best.”

The doors opened before them and several of the
Victory’s
crew lingered about, weapons strapped to their belts.

“The captain will expect me on the bridge,” Zortan said. “We have…unfinished business. You might be safer here.”

Avienne opened the door of the shuttle and hopped out before Zortan, pleased to find the ground fairly stable. She turned back to face him as he exited, sword in hand. “No way I’m staying out of this one.”

Zortan studied her for a moment and simply nodded, strapping the great sword to his back above the cloak he seemed to favour over a coat. He didn’t seem to mind the tensing of the crew around them as he carefully secured his weapon. Avienne suspected he enjoyed it.

“This should be fun,” she mumbled as she followed his long strides towards the functional elevator, escorted by two nervous crewmembers.

She swore she heard Zortan respond, “Quite.”

i

Flames erupted around them, the blast hurtling the shuttle off the pad seconds before Ardin had fully landed. The shuttle shook in response to the
Destiny’s
final screams.

Cailan!
No time. Ardin knew he couldn’t save the captain and he swallowed hard.

“Hang on!” The shuttle complained as he urged her forward. The bay door was already closed and
Destiny’s
metal was collapsing on itself as the fire sucked out the ship’s remaining oxygen. He pushed on the controls and hurtled forward, toward the second exit, when a second explosion rocked the ship. This time the
Destiny
moaned so deeply it resonated in his chest.

The ship buckled sideways and the shuttle’s top scraped
Destiny’s
hull. Metal separated all around her but no sparks flew; the oxygen had already been eaten by the first fiery explosion.

Behind Ardin, Josmere’s moans echoed
Destiny’s
and Layela reached back from her seat to grab her friend’s hand.

Ardin slowed the shuttle, trying to mimic the movements of the ship, but still they were knocked around. The Berganda’s moans ended.

“She’s just knocked out,” Layela whispered, as though trying to convince herself. Ardin cast her a quick look, and saw features pale and drawn but determined. She didn’t intend to die here and, quite frankly, neither did he.

He brought the shuttle to the last bay, long ago closed and without oxygen or power. The
Destiny
had been badly wounded during her last battle and her starboard engine had been compromised. It meant that the hull was at its weakest here and with fuel no longer running to the engine, the chances of an unplanned explosion were limited.

“I never thought I’d shoot my own ship,” he muttered.
Forgive me.

He fired his two rockets. They impacted near the engine, the ship lurching at the new explosion. The metal ripped and shrieked, and the engine was pulled half out of its joints, revealing a hole big enough for the shuttle to fly through.