Legend Beyond The Stars (33 page)

She pushed her way past the warriors until she was standing behind the Commander and Magar. They were busy with the locking mechanism of a metal hatch. The locks disengaged and Magar heaved on the heavy bar, hauling the door open.

What wafted first through the opening was a ripe and pungent smell. Alana pinched her nostrils together and breathed through her mouth. She tried not to gag. The smell reminded her of the stench of a slaughter house. Unfortunately it also brought back memories she would far rather have forgotten. An image flashed through her mind. One of swirling smoke, the flickering of flames, the screams of the wounded piercing through the screech of rending metal, the nauseating roil of diesel and blood and charred flesh.

Her stomach fell away.
Oh crap!
She dry heaved.

Ahead she noticed the grim exchange of glances between Tarak and his second-in-command. Her heart stuttered while her soul turned to ice.

She stepped over the raised threshold and found herself inside another chamber. Opposite her she could see a short tunnel which appeared to lead into another room. She shuddered. There were brown, rusty stains splashed over the walls and underfoot. Alana shuffled her boots as she tried not to step on this evidence of carnage. She pressed her hand more firmly against her mouth so no one would hear her whimper.

Tarak turned and before she could move out of his reach, he ran a soothing hand over her head. The warmth of his fingers seeped through the tendrils of her hair as they massaged her scalp. His fierce eyes scanned her face. Heat rose under his regard and she dropped her hand. In mute challenge, she lifted her chin and energy tingled under her skin at the light in
his dark eyes. Her gaze fell to his mouth and she watched his mobile lips quirk into a small smile.

Then she was looking at his broad back as he marched off.

Alana’s hands curled into fists and she hastened after him. One look from him and she was a bubbling cauldron of confused heat, lust, love and pain. Worse, she had the mortifying feeling, he knew it.

They emerged into a huge room. Whereas the other areas she had seen were carved out of the ice, this room had metal walls. Her gaze travelled upwards; metal ceiling and metal floor. The room resembled a giant metal box rammed into the frozen landscape. There would be little hope of escape from such a place, Alana mused, her mind refusing at first to accept what she saw was hanging from the ceiling supported by thick chains.

Metal cages.

Metal cages in which huddled what used to be living life forms.

Were they human? It was so hard to tell from this angle. Alana stared, her eyes riveted to this fresh atrocity. Did it matter what they were? Were they alive?

There were so many of them. The cages hung motionless and stretched row upon row through the large room. She dragged her stare away. She would not look up again. Unable to help herself, her gaze turned to Tarak. He stood as if bolted in place. Alana could have sworn she could feel his horror as if it was hers. The surging storm of longing to ease his anguish shook her to her core. She wanted to reach out and wrap her arms around him. Hold him close and never let anything hurt him again.

Never let him go.

Her lips twisted with empathy. She could only imagine the depth of outrage with his family’s actions in not only organising but actively participating in such cruel acts.

He spun around, his voice rough with suppressed feeling he snarled, “Cut them down. Cut all of them down.”

Shaken, Alana tottered over to the wall and placed one trembling hand against the metal for support. Jessamine joined her and sank to the floor holding her head between her knees. Alana could hear her weeping but was unable to offer any comfort.

She should be doing something to help, but she was incapable of movement. Instead she watched, emotionally drained, while the Darkon warriors worked on the heavy chains in grim silence, manoeuvring the cages to the ground.

None worked harder or faster than Tarak.

Alana’s eyes remained fixed on his powerful figure. She flinched each time a cage clanked onto the floor as it was released. She tried not to look when they checked the contents for signs of life. The Darkons moved quickly and efficiently from one cage to the next.

Someone was coming towards her.

It was Tarak. He carried a limp form in his arms, his muscular thighs making short work of the distance between them. With care he laid his burden onto the floor at her feet and met her dazed eyes.

”Alana,” he commanded. The power of his voice reached deep inside and tugged at her heart. His fingers trailed a lazy path over her face. He pinched her chin. “Alana, look at me.”

Feeling immeasurably weary, she raised her head. When their eyes met and held, the force of his personality fused life into her body. Her shoulders straightened. She stepped forward away from the wall. The glint of admiration in his eyes was all the motivation she needed.

She snapped back to life.

“I know you are hurt, frightened, confused. I know you are angry with me. But you are needed. This Jurian needs help. See what you can do for him,” Tarak said softly.

“Of course.” Alana reached out a hand but let it fall away before she touched him.

They stared at each other in tense silence. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she didn’t know how to say, but this was not the time or the place. Perhaps there never would be the time or the place. Perhaps the distance between them was too far to bridge. She nodded and he turned away. And just for a second, she thought she saw hurt in his eyes at her lack of response.

She crouched and bent over the alien at her feet. “Jess, do you want to give me a hand here?”

“This is so, like, the worse day of my life.” Jessamine’s voice was thick with tears. She raised her head and crawled over to the fallen Jurian. Heavy dark shadows lay thick beneath
her swollen eyes and she murmured with genuine pity, “Oh Lord, what a mess. What are we gonna do?”

“Something, anything. We’ll do whatever we have to do,” Alana said with grim determination.

Jessamine smile was shaky. “Glad to have you back, Captain.”

“I’m glad to be back.” Alana searched the room. “We need to find water and something we can use as bandages. Antiseptic would be good, but how the hell are we going to know whether they have any in this hell-hole, I have no idea.”

“In books, the heroine always has handy, miles of petticoats.”

Alana emitted a short laugh. “Yeah well, since neither of us is a heroine and I personally wouldn’t be seen dead in a petticoat, that’s not much use.”

“I’m sure I saw a dispenser in the other room near the chute. I’ll be back.” Jessamine staggered to her feet, wobbled, gained her balance and disappeared through the hatch. She returned with a container of liquid. Together they helped the Jurian raise his head and attempted to get him to drink. “It looks like they’ve found more alive.”

“Yeah.” Alana’s upper teeth sank so deeply into her lower lip they drew blood, but she tried to stop as Darkon warriors hastened past them, ducking through the doorway all carrying bodies with varying degrees of abuse.

Later she could not say what made her jump to her feet, ignore her friend’s startled gasp, and run through the room towards Tarak’s side. She’d dodged past the metal cages,
weaved around Darkon warriors, jumped over shrivelled corpses to arrive breathless and panting to where the Commander stood in front of an open cage.

She cast the First Officer a wild-eyed look.

Magar shook his head and indicated the huddled form of the cage’s prisoner. In a hushed tone he muttered, “Lord Dion.”

The shock in his voice caused Alana’s flesh to prickle and shrink back from her bones. Although the name meant nothing to her, she braced herself.

Tarak rattled a long drawn out sound which resonated with a shocked fury. He stooped and brushed aside the lank black hair from the Darkon’s scarred face.

“My brother.”

Chapter Seventeen

The Command Centre was the perfect place to witness the Ark’s destruction of the planet Isla.

Alana, her hands gripped together behind her back, stood with her small group of friends on the observation platform overlooking the control area. Every station was manned, all eyes fixed on the forward viewing screen. The air was rife with a feral anticipation.

Alana doubted there wasn’t one person on that ship who did not harbour a surge of unsated blood lust. She knew the Commander had ordered this final battle to be broadcast to every corner of the ship. An order she approved of wholeheartedly—it would do the victims good to witness the violent end of the place where they had endured such traumatic experiences.

Beneath her feet, the Ark vibrated with a power that boggled her mind. The massive ship gathered itself in preparation for the strike. Alana turned and made eye contact with her friends, her concern rising for their mental health when she saw the pale anxious faces of the women surrounding her.

Jessamine returned her smile. She had been a tower of strength, her right hand while they organised the women who had not been injured into giving first aid and limited nursing to the wounded. Gratitude for her friend’s unstinting friendship warmed her battered heart.

“Do you think there’s anyone left alive down there?”

Shock still resonated through Elise’s anxious whimper. Alana noted how the girl’s eyes remained puffy and red-rimmed from her tears, and she frowned in thought. She had also noticed it had been Magar who had gathered the young girl into his arms and comforted her
when Elise had succumbed to sobs of relief once they had all stumbled weary and worn onto the deck of the Ark.

Something else she would need to deal with.

“No, trust me, honey, the Darkons got every guy off that planet.” Jessamine reached out and pulled the younger girl into her embrace. She hugged her gently and Alana could see her own concern mirrored in her friend’s eyes as Elise clung to her warmth.

Atolo and Rajan had a hell of a lot to answer for. It would take some time for the women to recover from their ordeal. What scared her most was the agonising worry some might never recover fully. As well as the physical there were mental injuries. It would be a long time before Alana would be able to rid herself of those pitiful, tiny images of what had been the frail beginnings of life.

Her gaze swept around her friends; worry beat like a jack hammer drilling through concrete as she considered their condition. Before coming to the Command Centre, she had stolen some moments to confer with Jessamine.

“Linette’s not good,” Jessamine had said her tone abrupt with angst. “She still hasn’t spoken a word to anyone.”

“Yeah, I agree she doesn’t look well. Her eyes are so remote and shuttered, like there’s no one home.” Alana dragged a weary hand over face. She, herself, had spent her time since arriving on the Ark doing what she could for the more seriously wounded aliens. Seeing their horrific injuries had made her grateful they hadn’t been on Isla long enough to endure what the other inmates had suffered. “Any injuries?”

”No significant physical injuries, some bruisin’, lacerations, a sprained wrist. In the Analysis Chamber she refused to respond to any queries. The medic couldn’t obtain any info from her. Nor would she speak to me, but then she never did cotton onto me.”

Alana had chewed her lower lip furiously for a moment before asking, “And the others?”

“Tina is perkin’ up. It took her a while to stop shakin’. And little Elise hasn’t been able to stop talkin’. Rather more than usual.” Jessamine grinned.

“They’ve become our shadows. I’m surprised they haven’t followed us here into the cleansing tube.”

“There is no way in hell anythin’ else could fit in here,” Jessamine muttered with a faint attempt of humour as she bumped against the fittings. She tried to reach up to rub the sore spot but found it impossible.

“Sorry but I couldn’t think of anywhere else which would give us some privacy. Everywhere I look there’s some Darkon warrior dogging us.”

Jessamine managed a small shrug in the tightly enclosed space. “They feel responsible, honey.”

Alana arrowed her stare at her friend. “They
are
responsible!”

Jessamine persevered, “They’re worried. I sure don’t believe they knew exactly what had been happenin’ there. Yeah, they knew there was a research camp, but I think they thought it was a type of medical research centre. You know, doin’ experiments on some poor rat type creature.”

“They knew. He knew!”

“I don’t believe it. You don’t either, not really. You’re just lookin’ for someone to blame. Plus, I bet you’re pissed off he left you behind.”

Alana swore with fluency.

“Don’t get pissy with me. Hey, I’m on your side here. You know they were as shocked as us. Maybe more so.” Wisely she then returned to the matter at hand, running quickly through the names of the women with the more significant hurts. She wound up saying, “We were lucky. Everyone will recover.”

“Physically.”

“Well, what we’ve been through lately is gonna take some time to work through emotionally. But we’ll get there.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

“You do. It’s just buried under that mountain of guilt you’re layin’ on yourself. There is no way you could have prevented any of this from happenin’.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

Jessamine rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t, but don’t forget this has been a democratic partnership. We’ve all been makin’ these decisions with you, too.”

Remembering her friend’s words now, Alana sighed and a wave of despondency crashed over her. Guilt ate like a cancer into her soul.

She had to admit that Tarak had done what he could, his men had been ordered to keep away from the women. Although they still hovered on the fringes of wherever the women were, they obeyed his orders never venturing too close. She didn’t think that would last long though. Their race was too passionate, too stubborn, too driven, too physical.

At the moment the Darkons were busy dealing with the aftermath. It gave all of them a respite. The warriors attended to the wounded and their allotted duties with a fierce emotion which Alana recognised. It was the same feeling burning unchecked in her belly.