MotherShip (30 page)

For the first time since his childhood, he felt utterly alone.

Kyle had stayed near Rok these last tempestuous days as they journeyed to meet the Chieftains and Rok had seemed to understand. A close bond had already formed between the two. Kyle now felt as though he had more in common with the Kraaqi than he did with his own kind—Jaric and Becky. He felt so awkward now when he was alone with them.

Rawlon's voice penetrated his troubled thoughts and he forced himself to concentrate. There were more important things at hand than his personal feelings.

“The Chieftains and their personal guards are heavily armed,” Curja added.

“Most prudent,” Rawlon said. “If I were in their place, I would act no differently.” He turned and spoke to the First Commander, Band of the Stars. “What say you, Rok?”

Rok shrugged and readjusted the shoulder belt which held his assault blaster tight against his back. “It was I who led my small Band to your world. We also broke protocol. But, the circumstances demand such bold action. We do right.” Rok looked at the three humans. “The T'kaan are an enemy to be feared.”

“Yes, you did well.” Rawlon said. “I apologize again for your wound.”

Rok rubbed his arm with the recent, painful memory of their brief battle.

Smiles of mutual respect flashed between the First Captain and Rok.

“Well, your arm was nothing to what happened to me,” Jaric said, half-shouting.

Kyle chuckled, remembering the adventures of the previous week as they had sought out Rawlon, leader of the greatest Band.

Jaric's eyes widened. “How was I to know that there were carnivorous plants! Rok had warned us about the myriads of carnivores that might kill us on your jungle planet. I guess this little thing escaped his memory.”

Rok and Kyle began laughing. Now that it was over, the humor of Jaric's near-death experience had become a running joke between Rok and Kyle. In fact, the last two days it had been their prime source of entertainment as they continued to torment Jaric with their witty remarks.

Becky stood closer to Jaric, unconsciously putting her arm around his waist. “I know the Kraaqi are One with their worlds, and you like to keep your planets in a state of natural beauty, but when half the denizens can devour you, well, that's a little too natural.”

Rawlon smiled, a glint in his warrior eyes. “If you learn the ways of my world, you can easily walk its surface without being eaten. Even by the Xaktius.”

Kyle and Rok howled with laughter.

“Remember Becky, we spend most of our days in our underground cities. That is where we live and work. The surface is for recreation. Relaxation.”

“What recreation? Not getting yourself eaten?” Becky shook her head.

“Tell me again, Jaric,” Rok said with mischief in his eyes. “Few have survived being eaten by a Xaktius. What was it like?”

Kyle smiled.

A vein began throbbing in Jaric's forehead as he took a deep breath. “It all happened so fast.” Jaric paused, a serious look on his face.

Rok and Kyle waited, their eyes sparkling.

“I know it's taken me two days to wash that stench off.”

“We know!”

Their shared mirth became contagious. Rawlon and Curja joined with their own. Even Becky had to turn her head as she stifled her own rising giggles.

Jaric finally smiled as Kyle thumped him playfully on the back.

But the seriousness of the moment finally returned.

The three Kraaqi warriors and Kyle stepped away in order to discuss the imminent meeting and the dire message they had to convey.

Jaric turned to Becky and looked longingly into her eyes. “There is one thing I'll never forget about being eaten by that Xaktius, though.”

Becky smiled. “What?”

“That was the first time you told me, ‘I love you,'” Jaric said.

She brushed his face tenderly. “I thought you were gone. It was... such a shock. One minute you're walking with us through the dense brush...” her hand paused, resting against his cheek. “The next, this giant
thing
has eaten you whole!”

“It's a dangerous universe,” Jaric whispered with warmth. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he held Becky like he had always dreamed.

They kissed tenderly.

When the kiss finished, they held each other, wishing the moment would never end.

“Warriors should not hug each other,” Curja said as he stared at them indignantly.

Becky smiled at Curja's glare of disapproval. “Maybe warriors wouldn't be so grouchy if they got more hugs.”

Curja's face changed to puzzlement.

Rawlon burst out in laughter. “Perhaps we should allow our females to become warriors, Curja. Those long journeys to the stars would not be so long.”

Curja's eyes opened wide. “But, the females do not have horns.”

“Neither does the wo-man. Nor the hoo-mans. But they are warriors,” Rok said.

Rawlon raised his eyebrows knowingly at Curja.

Curja waved his arms in disgust. “I give up. First we are going to be allies with the Hrono and now we are letting our females become warriors. The world is changing too fast for me.”

“There comes a time when all things must change. That is life,” Rok said.

“Well spoken,” Rawlon returned.

“And those willing to change—to adapt—are the survivors,” Kyle added.

The three Kraaqi eyed him with respect.

“The warriors of Kraaqi will prove to be so,” Rawlon mused. “I have convinced the leaders of all the Bands to assemble. They will see the need, the wisdom, behind the alliance.” He looked from one to the other. “Even the old Chieftains will see this.”

Curja's eyes narrowed with doubt. “I hope you are right.”

“If they don't, I'll break all of their horns.
Personally
.” Rawlon spoke the last word with deadly earnestness.

Rok and Curja nodded agreement.

The golden curtains moved as another Kraaqi warrior stepped out.

“The High Chieftains will see you now,” the Kraaqi guard said.

Rawlon stepped forward and led them all through the golden curtains. Boldly, the party entered behind him.

The Great Hall lived up to its name.

Kyle guessed that there were at least ten thousand Kraaqi leaders gathered in the seats around them. The room itself was well over ten times the size of the main room in Minstrel's Circle Ship.

Everywhere the glint of precious gold sparkled from the massive, beautifully decorated tapestries that hung from the high ceilings—reflections of gold even twinkled from the delicate designs woven into the carpet they walked upon. The wood panels of the walls were also inlaid with a multitude of gold figures depicting legendary deeds of old—great Kraaqi heroes and their enemies in battle. The central section of the ceiling over the main stage contained a massive painting with heroic Kraaqi figures in full battle regalia—its background color depicting the sky also gleamed with gold-flecked paint.

“I think they like gold,” Jaric whispered to Kyle.

“I would've never guessed,” Kyle shot back playfully.

As the gathered throngs watched them enter with a rising murmuring, the three Kraaqi and three humans walked confidently toward the central platform. Upon the stage before them, seven ceremonially glad figures glared at them with suspicious eyes from their golden thrones—the High Chieftains.

Each step seemed an eternity to Kyle. But he managed to ignore the thousands of eyes that were burning into him. Instead, he focused on the seven pairs of suspicious eyes watching him draw nearer to them with each step. “I see that most Leaders of the Bands are already here,” Rawlon said to Curja as they marched. “It will make this easier.”

“The old ones will not so easily agree to an alliance with the Hrono. We have been enemies for too long.” Several long steps were taken in silence before Curja spoke again. “The Mewiis also concern me. Can they fight? Will they hold their own in a pitched battle?”

Kyle's eyes narrowed as he marched beside Curja with Rawlon in the lead. “They can fight. I have already seen them in action with the T'kaan.”

“The Mewiis allow their females to lead,” Curja sneered. “And their males put up with it!”

“We will put our concerns before the Mewiis when the time comes, Curja.” Rawlon stared forward as their journey drew to its end. “Now, we must convince the Chieftains that the greatest crisis in the history of our people is upon us.”

Curja growled under his breath as the six stopped before the raised platform of solid gold.

Rawlon raised his head defiantly to the seven faces above them.

Around the Great Hall the murmuring died away into a tense, electric silence. Ten thousand pairs of eyes focused on Rawlon and those standing with him at the feet of the Chieftains.

One of the seven Chieftains rose, grasping the side of his robe and draping it around his aged body like a cloak. At first he peered at the seated throng, ignoring Rawlon and those with him. Finally, his weathered eyes fell upon the six figures that stood before him.

He nodded, his gray feather-hair and dark stained horns glinting from the bright lights of the Great Hall. When he spoke, his stentorian voice echoed throughout the hall.

“Rawlon, First Leader, Band of Thunder.” The old Chieftain began pacing before his seated peers. “The greatest Band of the Kraaqi. Their First Leader, also First Captain of all the Bands, has led his flagship the Thunderer to this place. In fact, all the warships of his Band are now in orbit around us.”

He looked over the throngs once again, his words directed to them.

“Rawlon has sent a call out to every Band, to all of you gathered this day, and to those still heeding its urgent signal, still en route. This is a call of supreme crisis.” He shook his head slowly. “A call seldom used and only sent due to the most dire of circumstances.”

The aged Chieftain paused directly before Rawlon. He raised his arms, spreading his palms upright. “Speak, Rawlon.” He held the ceremonial pose as he glared at the three humans. “And tell us who these are that violate our solemn assembly.”

A loud murmuring swept the hall.

Rawlon marched forward to the lowest step that led up to the Chieftains. He gazed unwavering at the Chieftains as the cacophonous voices began to fade once again behind him. He waited patiently until the last voice was silent.

“I bring word of a new enemy.” The First Captain's voice was loud and sure. He turned away from the seven Chieftains to address the assembled throngs. “It is a powerful enemy who will annihilate all the Mewiis in the coming weeks. Easily.”

A low murmuring began.

Rawlon looked around at the faces in the Great Hall. “An enemy who will destroy all the Hrono. Easily.”

From every part of the Great Hall cheers went up.

Rawlon waited a moment. After a few moments he raised his right hand, signaling silence.

The throngs obeyed.

“This enemy will then make war with the Kraaqi...” Even as he uttered the last word, shouts and war cries filled the hall. A thousand challenges were issued to the heavens and this new enemy.

Rawlon shook his head and the gathered warriors slowly grew silent again. He turned and stepped up until he was midway to the Chieftains. Rawlon spoke directly to the seven.

“And the Kraaqi will be defeated.”

From their seats, every warrior in the Great Hall rose as one, all of them shouting and waving their fists and rapiers until the sound became a deafening roar. The thousands of combined voices shook the very walls of the building, so great was their cries of rage and indignation.

Rawlon continued upward until he was eye-level with the Chieftains. The other six had also risen at the outrage the First Captain had uttered. Now all seven gathered around him.

The shouts suddenly died away.

“Who is this great enemy, Rawlon? What is their name? Where are their fleets?”

Rawlon looked deep into the First Chieftain's eyes. “T'kaan.”

“Are these the dread of T'kaan?” The Chieftain who had first addressed the throngs pointed at the three humans.

“No,” Rawlon said. “These are hoo-mans. A race the T'kaan has already destroyed. But!” Rawlon shouted the last word as the throngs roared back. His single word silenced them. “But, these three are the only warriors to have ever defeated the T'kaan... and lived!”

Shouts and cheers echoed throughout the Hall now—cries for victory.

The First Chieftain raised his arm for silence, and the shouts subsided. “Then let us hear about these destroyers of life from ones who have fought them in battle. Is that the First Leader of the hoo-mans?” He pointed at Jaric.

Jaric looked over at Kyle and whispered. “We need to show them that we do not judge each other by our skin, just because the Kraaqi do so. They think I am leader merely because I am dark skinned.”

Kyle nodded. He felt Jaric's trust. Still, something pained him deep inside. But with a determined look, he marched to the lowest step, carefully following Rawlon's earlier lead. “Great Chieftain, we humans do not judge merely by the color of our skins. Our leaders are chosen because of their courage, their valor, and their skills. I am the appointed leader.”

Jaric looked over at Becky standing next to him and briefly shared a smile. Becky's eyes sparkled in return as she smiled agreement.

The Chieftain looked uncertainly at Rawlon, who nodded his own agreement that Kyle was leader. Shaking his head with disbelief, he spoke. “Well said. But a most strange thought to us who know our dark warriors as the bravest. But continue, tell us how we can defeat these T'kaan.”

Kyle turned and slowly looked around at the gathered audience. He finished by facing the Chieftains again, a grim look on his face. He spoke, his voice deadly serious. “The T'kaan are not just destroyers of life. They are destroyers of entire races—of entire worlds.”

Kyle now turned and faced opposite the raised dais so he could address the Kraaqi throngs.

“The T'kaan live their life in four cycles. The first cycle is war. But the T'kaan fight an
unholy
war. They make war for two reasons only. First, for the joy of killing. Second, for the propagation of their species. Because, for the T'kaan to reproduce, they must destroy entire worlds.” Kyle paused a moment, staring into the faces of the crowd. “They must destroy entire races.”