Moonstruck (20 page)

“Assim…?” he heard one of the space-hands ask another in a whisper.

“
‘Assimilate,’
you grains-for-brains bore-head. Integrate, blend in.” Didn’t they realize the danger of being Hordish in a Coalition world? When those like Yarew were spring-loaded to wipe the Horde from the face of the galaxy? All they needed was an excuse. Being so outwardly Drakken would make it easy. Their survival depended on adapting to their new culture, not fighting it.

“You act like the animals the Coalition thinks you are. And maybe you are barbaric beasts, because all attempts to civilize you have freepin’ failed! You’re no better than the rogues we got down in the brig.” He rubbed his fist, pacing a few steps then turning back to them. He knew what he had to do. “We’re starting over.”

He snatched a bottle of sweef off the floor and pulled out the cork, upending it into the sink. The pungent odor filled the stuffy room, adding another element to the mix of sweat and blood. “I want it all gone by morning. And, no, not by drinkin’ it.”

A surge of groans and “but, Captain”s erupted.

He sliced a hand through the air, silencing them. “Until you show me I can trust you as working, contributing members of this crew, no sweef. If I hear of any violations, if I hear of a single one, you’ll be confined to quarters. All of you.” He glared at each space-hand in turn. “We’ll start by teaching you a taste of that tonight. Zurykk.”

“Aye, Warleader.”

“Get the word around. No one leaves their quarters but for work and orders until I say otherwise.”

“Aye, Warleader.”

Finn felt let down by his former crew in so many different ways that for once he didn’t know what to say. Leaving them with only his disappointed silence to ponder, he exited the room.

“Captain.” Zurykk jogged after him. “Warleader, I mean,” he corrected as Finn turned around to frown at him.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to take everything away like that?”

“Everything?” He waved a hand at the ship, the sparkling fittings and the top-notch materials. “Compared to our last ship, this is paradise. This is the best life they’ve ever had. They don’t seem to care too much, going at each other like animals, marinating what’s left of their pea-ball brains with sweef.”

“When I say everything, sir, I mean what makes them Horde. They’ve got no skins, no sweef, no grabble, and they’re living on a Coalition ship.”

“A Triad ship.”

“But, sir, even you said we shouldn’t take away too much too soon. You said they’re still Drakken in Triad clothing. You told the admiral that. You told her to give them time. If I may say so, they’re still needin’ that time, sir.”

“Zurykk, man, you’ve lost the thread here. They disobeyed me.”

“I know they shouldn’t have been doing the grabble.”

His former second-in-command said it in a way that had Finn wondering how much he’d known about. It got him thinking, too, how out of touch he’d been with all of them. He knew where his focus had been, and it wasn’t on them. Aye, he’d been wrapped up in his relationship with Brit, wrapped up in his new duties, but, gods, he ought to be able to turn his back; he ought to be able to trust them!

“They’re worried what they’re going to lose next,” Zurykk continued. “The tattoos, their beads.”

“Humph.” Finn thought of how close he’d come to cutting his hair short in the past few days. His aim was to look more Triad.
He don’t look Drakken
—the rogues had treated him as if he were an aberration, not an example.

Was it the truth?

Finn scrubbed a hand over his face. Regardless, he had his crew to deal with. “I gave them an order, Zurykk. They chose to disobey. That’s mutiny. They’ll stay confined to quarters until I say otherwise.”

“Aye, sir.”

Finn left his friend standing in the corridor. The words
coalition pet
taunting him.

E
ERIE SILENCE ENVELOPED
the cloud-shrouded world of Goddess Reach. In the shuttle headed planetside with Warleader Rorkken, the rest of the Cupezikan team and three extra hands, Hadley gripped her holstered pistol. If need be, she was ready to use it. At the academy, she’d been trained for combat operations. Since graduating, she’d never used any of her combat training. She hoped it came back fast. She was well aware that the admiral had sent her planet-side on Cupezikan because it was supposed to have been a routine mission. Goddess Reach clearly wasn’t. She’d make doubly sure she didn’t screw up.

The descent was bumpy. Rain lashed the windows. “When we land, we’ll break up into pairs and spread out looking for survivors. Note anything of interest and report back to me. Barrientes, you’re with Odin. I’ll be with Rothberg. And, Bolivarr, you go with Lieutenant Keyren.” The warleader went on to pair up the rest of the team.

Hearing her assignment, Hadley tried not to ponder the little flare-up of nerves mixed with relief at being matched up with Bolivarr. The distress call had delayed her visit to Tango’s quarters. Out of sheer awkwardness, she preferred to avoid the Earthling until that moment when they’d be able to be together. On the other hand, the wraith was proving increasingly distracting.

Stupid mood ring,
she thought.
It means nothing.

After landing, as soon as it was determined safe to exit, they tromped down the gangway and set off slogging through the mud in heavy boots as the team fanned out in all directions.

Rain came down hard. It was a miserable day. The settlement looked as deserted as Cupezikan had been. At first she’d had hopes of finding everyone alive. Now those hopes began to fade in the gloom of the day.

She and Bolivarr followed a winding, narrow, muddy trail into the hills. The data-vis showed nothing around except the heat-sigs of small indigenous creatures. Off to the left, some shrubbery caught her eye. She slowed to take a look. The wraith’s quiet voice vibrated in her PCD. “What do you see, Hadley?”

“Broken twigs. Torn leaves.”

The toe of his boot pushed at some of the leaves on the ground. “They’re too new to have fallen on their own. They were knocked off when people passed this way. Days,” he said. “Not weeks ago.”

“Agreed.”

“And this,” he said, pointing off into the soaked woods with his rifle, “isn’t the usual footpath.”

“You’re right.” Hadley’s pulse kicked up a notch. She considered herself a good observer, but the wraith’s ability to see signs she couldn’t was amazing. She tried not to think about how he got that way—hunting…assassinating—and shook off the visions of a darker, scarier Bolivarr from years past. “It may be where the settlers were forced on a death march to be skulled. Or, it may be an evacuation route to a shelter.”

Bolivarr fingered a leaf then threw it down. “They are hiding in a shelter.”

“You sound so sure.”

“My hunches are always right.” His dark gaze held hers until she trembled, something the expedition suit didn’t allow him to see, thank the gods, before his focus veered back to the trail. Silent, he took off walking, and she followed.

What about her hunches? Her gut instincts? They were good, she knew, but she wished she could be as confident about them as Bolivarr was. And Admiral Bandar, too. The admiral attributed her successes in battle to listening to her gut. Hadley had best do the same if she ever hoped to be as good a commander as her hero.

The muddy track ended at a mass of discarded brush piled up next to a hillside. “It’s hiding something. An entrance?” She let high hopes buoy her along. Bolivarr grabbed her arm before she could kick away the brush.

“No, Hadley.” He stalked around the immediate area, scrutinizing high and low.

“What are you looking for?”

“It’s not widely known, but after skulling, landing parties were ordered by the battle-lords to leave behind booby traps to kill as many of the search-and-rescue people as possible.”

She stood in place, drenched and holding her breath, wondering what she’d stepped on or was about to step on. “That’s lower than low.”

“It is what it is. I don’t agree with the method.”

“I know….” Somehow she did know. Underneath his intensity was an inexplicable gentleness that she was just beginning to notice.

She stood impatiently as rain poured down. It was dribbling along the seams of her suit as if looking for a way inside. Bolivarr’s inspection of the area was quick. Eerie as it was, he seemed to know exactly what he was looking for. When he didn’t find it, he let her assist him in clearing away the brush. A metal door had been dug into the hillside and shut tight against invaders.

She and the wraith exchanged a triumphant glance.

“You talk to them,” he said and attached an aural amplifier to the door. “They’ll hear my accent.”

His Hordish accent.

“This is Lieutenant Hadley Keyren from the Triad Alliance Ship
Unity.
We answered your distress call. I sure hope you’re alive in there, because, goddess, it’s wet out here.”

From behind the door, the sound of muffled, surprised shouts and weeping told her that her fervent wish had come true. Then, the door cracked open an inch, letting out the odor of warm bodies, sweat and a smell she’d not encountered in a very long time: the odor of foul, soiled diapers. A nano-layer could keep the waste lining clean only so long. “It’s going to be all right,” she soothed them as Bolivarr turned to speak into his PCD: “Warleader, they’re alive.”

F
INN CIRCLED
the perimeter of the chaotic scene as settlers poured out of the shelter none too happy about his presence or Bolivarr’s. A quick call to Brit and another shuttle was dispatched. They’d brought only one, never dreaming they’d find survivors. It was good to see there was still a reason for hope in the galaxy; not everyone died. The downside was the survivors gave verbal proof that Drakken had attacked this settlement. It was exactly the kind of arrogant act to incite old enemies to retaliate. He doubted the Drakken had the ability to fight back in a real way—the warlord, Lord-General Rakkuu, and his son were dead, and most of the battle-lords dead or imprisoned—but a bloodbath was a real possibility. Drakken innocents could find themselves cast in the light of suspicion and killed, all in the name of security.

“Get them formed up in two groups, one for each shuttle,” he told Barrientes.

“Yes, sir.” The Earthling moved through the crowd.

Drakken!
The settlers’ frightened gazes screamed.
Horde!
Only Keyren and the non-Drakken amongst the expedition team and their forceful reassurances kept panic at bay. The Triad may have been widely announced, changing the face of the galaxy’s ruling governments, but to the average Coalition citizen the idea of playing nice with Drakken was viewed with suspicion—suspicion that this latest round of attacks would amplify. What happened here and on Cupezikan would undermine the peace process, if this was in fact still peace. It was looking an awful lot like war.

Ensign Odin helped an injured woman hobble past Finn. She clutched a tiny babe to her breast. “Oh, heavens help us,” she muttered, trembling as they walked by him. The stares she cast his way were wild and tear-filled. As soon as they were safely away, the settler broke down into wrenching sobs. Odin consoled her, awkwardly patting the woman’s back.

Finn scowled. So he was a “monster” to their people and a “pet” to his own. Damn it all, which was it? Would he ever belong anywhere, or was he doomed to be an outcast forever, always on his own in the world, the war orphan nobody had wanted? The Drakken who aspired to things well above his station?
And women above your station, too?

He’d begun to consider himself a Triad officer, worthy of Brit’s company. He was proud of his rank and position. A few terror-filled glances from the settlers dropped him right back where he used to be.

Finn kept his stream of dark thoughts hidden, watching over the team as they herded the bedraggled group to safety. Lieutenant Keyren joined him, typing on her data-vis.

A second shuttle appeared through the rain clouds, screeching to a soft landing in the field. “Tango,” he called. “Get your shuttle ready to go. One up, and one down, until everyone is off this planet.”

“Aye, sir.” The Earthling had responded with “aye” as a pirate would. Finn sensed it was a way of showing him respect, regard that he’d seen growing in the pilot as the days had passed. Tango even threw in a Drakken salute before he walked away to get the shuttle ready for launch.

“
This
is the proper salute, Tango,” Finn told him, bringing a fist to his chest.

“If that’s the way they want us to do it. But we U.S. Air Force types used to do it this way.” He returned a snappy hand slice to the forehead before giving in and pounding a fist to his chest in the Triad salute, which was no different from the Coalition salute.

Finn acknowledged the Earthling’s attempt to bridge the gap between them with a grin. At this point, he’d take allies wherever he could get them.

He went in search of Rothberg, whom he’d put to the task of an accurate head count. A group of settlers was headed his way, led by Keyren. The group parted like a brothel’s velvet drapes, allowing him a wide swath through. He shook his head. At least they didn’t scream.

Rothberg stood with the settlement leader. The man appeared unruffled by Finn’s presence. He was all business. Little wonder this group survived, Finn thought. They had a capable leader.

“How many do we have, Commander Rothberg?”

“Sixty-six, Warleader. That’s a final.”

“Our records show you at fifty-six,” Finn told the leader. “That’s ten more than we thought.”

“Three are newborns,” the leader said with a happy smile. The settlers would keep multiplying, too, Finn thought, having noticed several pregnant women. “The other seven adults are strangers—or were before all that time we spent holed up together. They were on the way to their settlement when they were attacked. They crash-landed here and begged sanctuary.”

Finn was instantly alert. “Where’s the ship?”

“Under about ten slogs of mud out in the fields. All this rain, we haven’t had the chance to get out to see it. They warned us that Drakken were raiding. Good thing, too. As it was, we had precious little time to pack up and hide. We barely got a distress signal out before they blasted apart our comm. We don’t know how many came a’raiding. We were underground by then and didn’t dare take a peek.”