Rystani Warrior 02 - The Dare (16 page)
Read Rystani Warrior 02 - The Dare Online
Authors: Susan Kearney
Ranth
.
Are you here
?
Icy silence.
Dora forced onward past wiring and hardware, plunging into the area of Ranth’s self-awareness deep in the core. Steering by pure instinct, she veered toward the bio-matter, praying for a spark of sentience.
Inky darkness shadowed her last glimmer of hope. Ranth was gone. Dead. His personality had had nowhere else to retreat. Although the living organism of his brain remained alive at a cellular level, she couldn’t find one particle of intellectual activity.
Dora began to withdraw, then spied a vault that jiggled a memory. Stopping her retreat, she circled the void, wondering if Ranth could have hidden here. She saw no way in. No way to communicate. Had he locked himself down tight?
If he opened for her, would the dampening field destroy what was left of him?
Once she would have known exactly what to do. But she’d been unable to keep all her knowledge. She needed data but couldn’t access the correct area. Yet the vault tantalized and frustrated her with its presence.
Think
.
The field was disabling their electromagnetic drive and their suits, but the inner core was the oldest part of the computer, which had originated on Scartar and had once been powered by radioactive fuel rods that wouldn’t cool for thousands of years. Technically, there was enough power in the core to preserve Ranth, but if he remained alive, how could she contact him?
On Scartar the builders had created this vault to protect the computer records in case a starship crashed. The records needed to be preserved in order to discern if a ship went down due to an attack or from human or mechanical error. Obviously, the original engineers had a way to recover those records, and Dora needed to discover their method.
The key could be anything—DNA, a password, a retinal scan. Reluctant to give up, but stumped, Dora circled the vault again, but she saw nothing that would permit her to enter.
Determined to figure out the puzzle, Dora considered mechanical and physical means to open the vault, but every one of them put Ranth at risk—if he was still alive. Her loops began to repeat, but she didn’t mind. Perhaps she’d missed something the first go round.
Ranth
?
Talk to me
.
A strange sensation, like a breeze blowing through her hair summoned Dora. At first she ignored the whisper of a breeze, but the wind plucked and pulled, strengthening to a hearty gale. Then gusting at tornado strength, the maelstrom forced her back. Back. Back.
Tumbling, mind spinning, buffeted, she retreated from the sucking core, stumbled amidst a mind-blowing torrent of windy confusion. Lost in the storm, she had no anchor.
“Dora. Open your eyes. Damn it, Dora.” The voice pricked and poked and prodded.
Dora opened her eyes to find herself back in her body. Zical was running his hands up and down her arms, over her shoulders, skimming down her back, creating a sizzling sensation of pure desire. Oh, my. His hands on her skin, the tingling, was oh so lovely. After the coldness of her mental journey, she ached to throw herself against his chest and revel in the warmth of life.
Eyes full of concern, he glared at her. “Are you all right?”
“I … think so.”
He stopped caressing her skin, but with her every cell stimulated to the max, she surmised he must have been touching her for quite some time. Her breasts swelled and her nipples had pebbled to hard little points. Everyone else on the bridge deliberately looked away, a sure sign they saw and pretended not to notice. She supposed she should be embarrassed but she simply couldn’t summon that human trait. Instead, she was glad her body reacted properly. The stimuli excited her with a nervous energy that made her want to kiss Zical again, but she reminded herself that his concern was friendly, not passionate.
He locked gazes with her, assessing her frankly. “You’ve been gone for hours. I tried shouting at you, but you didn’t even flinch.”
“I couldn’t hear you.”
“So I started rubbing your skin.”
“So that was the breeze I felt.”
“Breeze?”
“Never mind.” She didn’t want to tell him that breeze had grown into a whirlwind of need. That if not for his touch, she might still be inside, trying to figure a way into the vault. Even as she recognized her own physical desires, she understood now was not a good time or the right place to pursue her need. “If Ranth is there, he’s hidden himself so deep I couldn’t reach him. But the good news is that if we stop the dampening effect, he may be alive. Has our situation changed?”
Zical handed her a glass of water, avoiding a direct answer. “We’re rationing water. Life support continues to function. Without the computer we’re flying blind.”
She sipped the water, appreciating the cool liquid on her parched throat, satisfied that she’d spied a telltale glimmer of intensity that revealed he’d been more concerned about her than he cared to let on. “Sorry, if Ranth’s there, I couldn’t find a way to reach him.”
TWO DAYS LATER the dire situation aboard the
Verazen
hadn’t changed. One of the scientists had found gold cloth for trading, and they’d used glue and ingenuity to cover their nudity, the men wearing loin cloths, the women togas. Dora had taken to wearing her link to Ranth over her shoulders like a necklace in case she had occasion to plug in fast.
A chemist had found a way to mix the nutrients for the food materializers into the water, so no one was starving, and he’d created primitive batteries to power water recyclers so they could use as much as they needed for drinking and washing. But the inability to escape the tractor beam and their captors wore down everyone’s nerves. Zical and Cyn had worked with a team of engineers and Dr. Laduna’s scientists to come up with a scheme to break the tractor beam. Nothing worked. Although the crew reported to their stations, there was nothing for them to do.
Zical had everyone training to resist an attack, but Dora suspected that his orders were more to keep people occupied than to fight off their captors. Any entities with enough technological superiority to neutralize their ship and their weapons were unlikely to lose a battle of hand-to-hand combat.
With Zical busy analyzing, assessing, and keeping up morale, Dora spent much of her free time with Kirek. Since Ranth was no longer present to help with the boy’s studies, she tutored him in computer science because that was the one subject she knew much more about than he did. Kirek proved to be an excellent pupil, his interests eccentric and far ranging. When his lessons ended, they passed many enjoyable hours discussing philosophy, religion, politics, and ethics. Most of all, Dora liked being needed.
Kirek might have the intellectual capacity of a genius, but he was also a small boy, far from home and without the people who loved him most—his parents. With the hyperlink down, he missed communication with them, and she tried to keep him busy. They played cards, chess, and Kirek’s favorite,
Famat
. The child loved to gamble, and between his love of numbers, luck, and Dora’s preoccupation with freeing Ranth from the vault, the child often won, showing an aptitude for complex and skillful playmaking.
Dora had thought he’d prefer his own quarters, but she soothed Kirek’s sudden awakenings in the middle of the night due to nightmares by cuddling the little boy until he fell back into sleep. Taking care of him, spending so much time with him over just a few days, brought them closer together than she’d have thought possible.
Until Kirek, she’d thought only in the abstract about someday having children. But she was just beginning to understand the many ways that people loved and how much this kind of bond enriched her life, and despite their captivity, Dora was content on several levels.
Although impatient to continue their mission, although impatient to form a different kind of deeper bond of friendship with Zical, she appreciated this time with the child more than she’d believed possible. His sweet innocence combined with his extraordinary abilities made him a compatible roommate.
The ship had been in tow for five days when a solar system appeared on their vidscreens. Seven planets, four of them with cities large enough to be visible from space. A class-four sun. Busy space traffic between the three inner worlds.
Zical interrupted a story Dora was telling Kirek, rapping on the door. “Can I come in?”
“What’s up?” Dora’s pulse sped at the sight of him, but she kept her glance composed. Zical looked as if he hadn’t slept since they’d dropped out of hyperspace. Shadows haunted his eyes, and dark circles revealed his stress and the burden and responsibility he had as commander. Yet, his shoulders remained squared due to the tension in his muscles. She wished she could work the knots out of his shoulders, touch him, as he’d touched her to pull her out of the computer.
“We’re coming into port.” Zical hesitated and turned to Kirek. “How’re you holding up?”
“I miss my folks,” he admitted. “But Dora’s been good to me.”
Zical spoke to the boy as if he were a crew member. “Kirek, we have no idea what’s in store for us, but we must assume that the beings that have us in tow are not friendly.”
“What do you want me to do?” Kirek looked up at Zical with his wide blue eyes, and it seemed incongruous to Dora that this little boy should be offering to help such a strong warrior. But Zical’s leadership abilities pulled the best out of people, old and young alike.
“You know how you cloaked yourself from Ranth’s sensors to sneak on board?”
“You want me to do so again when we dock?” Kirek guessed.
Zical nodded. “Yes. I realize their machines may be different, and you may be unable to hide, but if you can, you may be safer on your own than with us.”
How like Zical to think about the role every member of the Federation should play, down to Kirek. Although she appreciated Zical’s concern for Kirek’s welfare, she wished Zical had consulted her before making such a suggestion. “If he escapes, you’re asking this child to live on a strange world all alone.”
Kirek squeezed her hand. “It’s all right. I understand.”
But did Zical? Desperation made her blink back tears. “We’re asking too much of you. Where will you find food and shelter?” Dora directed her question at the boy, but her query was really meant for Zical.
“If I can hide from their sensors, stealing food shouldn’t be so hard,” Kirek tried to reassure her, and Dora’s heart spasmed.
“You’re assuming they eat the same kind of food we do.” Dora’s throat tightened. She wanted them to stay together so she could attempt to protect Kirek, but she understood Zical’s thinking. The boy might have a better chance of surviving without them. “Besides, what if these beings aren’t hostile?”
“You think they dragged us out of hyperspace to invite us to dinner?” Zical countered, his tone light as if spitting in the face of danger.
“Maybe they tried to communicate and we didn’t respond. Maybe they are curious. Maybe we trespassed in their territory. There could be any number of peaceful reasons for their actions.”
“If I can escape, I’ll follow,” Kirek promised, his eyes solemn above his chubby cheeks.
Dora ached to pull the boy into her arms. Already her heart was heavy with loss, but she raised her eyes to meet Zical’s, and his were hard, the decision made.
ZICAL’S PLAN WERE made. All any of them could do was watch and prepare for the unknown as the aliens kept their tractor beam on the
Verazen
during the journey to the second planet of the solar system. From low orbit the world appeared to have a combination of enormous well-planned cities built of graceful golden reflective materials and pink stone, plus rural areas in between, seemingly without much population or organized agriculture. One giant red-hued ocean gazed back at them like the eye of doom from the polar region. About the size of Mystique, larger than Rystan and Earth, the planet’s size should provide a gravity familiar enough for the crew and scientists on the
Verazen
to easily adapt. Dora wished she could say for certain the same about the air.
She stood on the silent and tense bridge between Kirek and Zical.
Zical calmly gave his orders. “Although I expect to be boarded, resistance will probably be ineffectual.”
“We’re surrendering?” Vax asked.
“We’re going to assess them and look for opportunities to escape,” Zical countered. “The aliens have already displayed their superior technology by yanking us out of hyperspace and bringing us here.”
“Our hand weapons won’t fire through the tractor beam’s dampening field so I suppose we have no choice,” Vax agreed. “Still, I’ve directed two crewmen to stand by the armory ready to distribute the weapons in the unlikely case that the aliens released the tractor beam upon landing.” “So people, the plan is simple,” Zical continued. “Appear peaceful and calm. That will give us time to assess, analyze, and think of a way to escape and continue our mission.”
Dora was proud of Zical. Another skilled warrior wouldn’t have adapted so quickly. Many Rystani men would have fought to the their death against superior technology, but Zical preferred to use his mind, showing commendable restraint. Dora had no doubt if any man could lead them through the dangers they were about to face, it would be Zical.
Zical’s gaze locked on Kirek. “I’d like everyone to hide Kirek by keeping him in the middle of the adults.”
Dora’s hand rested lightly on the boy’s shoulder. Of all the restless people on the bridge, he seemed the most excited. Trembling under her hand, he leaned excitedly forward, peering at the viewscreen, his blue eyes wide with anticipation.
She wished she possessed his enthusiasm. Her stomach flip-flopped in dread at the prospect of almost certain captivity and hostility, possibly torture. She shuddered, knowing that barbaric behavior could be found among savages as well as civilizations much more technologically advanced, and a muscle in her back spasmed. Yet, despite the seeming helplessness of their situation, despite the impossible odds, hope and the approval in Zical’s gaze gave her the courage to hold up her head with an irrational faith that they might yet find a way to escape and continue their mission. Her hope might contradict every fact and realistic assessment of their situation, but perhaps that paradox was also part of being human.
As if to mock their somber mood during their forced descent, the sun shined brightly in a cloudless blue sky. The tractor beam brought them in fast and hard, but they landed with a feather-light precision and a damning clang as metal echoed on metal like a death knell.
“Dregan hell.” Zical spoke loudly so not only the crew on the bridge could hear him but also those congregated on the deck below. “People stay together. Stay calm. Remember to keep Kirek hidden with our bodies. When we depart this ship, I want us to appear as if we are invited dignitaries, not a ragtag group of prisoners. First and foremost, we are representatives of the Federation and this is a First Contact with another race. Be adaptable, slow to take insult, and show them that we are a civilized people. Understood?”
Many of them didn’t understand. Although Dora spoke Rystani and Terran, she was no better off than the others. Without their suits to translate, they’d worked out a complicated system of communication to ensure that no one on board was left out. Cyn and Shannon both understood some Rystani. Cyn also spoke Federation and Zenonite, and she repeated Zical’s orders to Dr. Laduna, who in turn passed them on to his group of scientists. The system wasn’t perfect, but it worked.
When Zical spoke, his officers stood straighter. Even the scientists’ nerves steadied. It was a measure of their respect for the captain that everyone obeyed his orders without question in the face of danger.
The tractor beam deposited them on a landing pad. Heavy, armored alien vehicles on large tracks surrounded their ship, and guns pointed in their direction. Zical popped the emergency manual hatch, and a landing ramp unfurled.
Dora breathed in the first tropical scent of balmy air. So far, so good. It was hot and sultry, scented with spice; she waited to keel over from poisonous gases or lack of oxygen, but her lungs pumped in a normal rhythm.
Dora straightened the gold toga at her shoulder and peered through the hatch. Sweat trickled down her brow, and she wiped off the perspiration with the back of her hand. If she’d been wearing her suit, she’d have turned up the cooling, but she had no choice but to stand in the stifling ship as ordered. Her muscles might be flinching, her throat might be tight from tension, her mouth might be dry as a Drahanian desert, and she might be much more frightened than anyone else here, but she was damned if she’d show it. Knowing that she was taking a risk with her life, she’d chosen to be human. She’d arranged to come on this mission, and she was determined to be one of them, even if her stomach churned as if she’d swallowed rocks.
Expecting soldiers with weapons to advance, Dora tensed. But the door of the armored vehicle opened, and a woman stepped out, wearing so little that she had no room to hide a weapon on her person. Even from a distance, Dora could see her beauty. She was short compared to Rystani women, and her spiked pink hair framed a sensual face that was quite humanoid. She stared at them with aggressive curry-colored eyes that gave away nothing. Bare breasted, she wore a beaded necklace of multi-faceted royal pink stones, a muted coffee sarong, and brown sandals with straps that extended up her calves. She sported the muscular body of an athlete, but walked with a seductive sensuality that Dora would like to be able to copy.
Striding up to the ramp without fear, she stopped at the bottom and spoke in a voice bold, husky, and authoritative. “I am Avanti and this world is Kwadii.”
Dora had no difficulty understanding her words. She heard murmurs on the bridge as the crew realized that they could once again speak to one another in their home tongue.
His expression serious but calm, Zical strode down the ramp and stopped several feet before Avanti. The rest of them remained where they were in order to appear non-threatening. Dora held her breath, proud of Zical’s bearing. He appeared every inch the ship’s captain. Shoulders squared, chin high, he projected confidence, not arrogance, a perfect combination for first contact.
As the sun glistened off his powerful bronzed chest, Dora wondered if Avanti appreciated not only his masculine lines but his control over his emotions. Although Zical appeared calm, she knew he seethed with rage that the Kwadii had captured his ship, detained his people, and stopped his mission. Even if he could convince the Kwadii to release them immediately, the unscheduled stop that had yanked them out of hyperspace would add untold years to their journey.
“I am Zical.” He gave no other information, remaining silent, waiting—a measure of control that again made Dora proud to be with him.
“I, Avanti, am your appointed protector of life. I will do my best to defend you.” The woman spoke with a measure of frustration and belief that her words were nothing but the truth.
“Defend us? I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t, but all will be explained soon.” Avanti gazed past Zical to the others inside the ship. “Gather your people. I’ll take you to … where you will stay until your trial. Lack of cooperation will be dealt with by immediate execution.”
Zical motioned for them to join him. As much as Dora wanted to be by his side, she held back, waiting until others surged forward so she could remain next to Kirek, hiding the boy as best she could. Out here, with vehicles surrounding them, Kirek couldn’t possibly sneak away. So she kept him close.
Avanti had said she was their protector of life. The fact that their lives required protection didn›t sound good. However, they hadn’t been summarily executed, so Dora tried not to think past helping Kirek escape.
As Avanti turned and led them toward one of the pink stone buildings that surrounded the landing field that blended with the cityscape beyond, Dora marveled at the quiet. Most spaceports tended to be noisy. So did cities. But she heard no skimmer engines, although she saw flying machines overhead. She heard no talking, no vehicular movement; so although she was back in the pack, she could clearly hear Avanti’s dire news.
“Your people are charged with treason against the Kwadii. The crime is serious.” She paused for a moment, seeming almost reluctant to say more, then continued. “Even as much as a century ago, you would have been executed in hyperspace. However, my people, the Selgrens, have convinced others that the Kwadii should behave in a more civilized fashion. Since we have become more enlightened, you are entitled to a trial.”
Zical kept his tone as casual as if he were discussing what he would eat for breakfast. “We have never been here before. If we have violated your laws—”
“I’m sorry.” Avanti’s tone remained formal but sympathetic. “Unfortunately, ignorance is no excuse. Our Risorian law does not provide for exceptions. At the trial I will defend you to the best of my ability, and my ability is considerable.”
“You said we are charged with treason.” Zical kept his tone even.
“Yes.”
“What exactly did we do?”
“You traveled through hyperspace. That is not permitted.”
“Why?”
Avanti’s profile softened with sympathy. “According to our laws, it matters not.”
“It matters to me.”
As they left their ship, Dora turned back to see Kwadii men boarding the
Verazen
. Like Avanti, the men wore little more than a loincloth and sandals. Dora spied no weapons, yet she had no doubt these men were warriors, their military bearing and discipline was clear even from a distance.
As they swarmed inside the hull, Dora wondered if they’d examine the
Verazen
or take her apart atom by atom. If Ranth still survived in the vault, would they find him? She hoped that after they examined the ship they might turn off the dampening field, freeing the computer, but she considered that possibility unlikely. These Kwadii struck her as efficient, a people that left no detail unnoticed, and she shivered despite the heat.
“Any journey through hyperspace leaves a trail.”
“So?”
“Your trail through our quadrant might draw our enemy’s attention to Kwadii,” Avanti explained.
“You are at war?” Zical asked.
“Not at the moment, but we must guard against attack from a ruthless enemy that drove us from our homeworld to Kwadii. Our people are determined that our enemy shall not find us again through your hyperspace trail.”
Dora had no idea how long ago the Kwadii had settled this world, but as she recalled the great cities from space, she’d seen little signs of recent building activity. However, the stone buildings gave the planet an ageless feel. The cities could have been erected in the last century or over several thousand years ago.
“I know what it is like to lose a homeworld,” Zical wisely brought up what their peoples had in common. “Rystan was invaded, and my people also resettled.”
Avanti sighed, almost as if she did not agree with her own people’s edicts. “Then you understand why my people have set into law that we must rigorously protect ourselves. For all we know, you are enemy spies, sent here to assess our state of preparedness.”
“If you examine our computer systems, you will see that we are not in league with your enemy.”
“We will examine your ship, but I fear the evidence will not prove much in our court of law. The data in a computer system is only as valid as the computer specialist who enters the data,” Avanti countered without breaking her pace.
“Then how can we prove that we mean Kwadii no harm?”
“You can’t. But I promise I will fight hard for you. This policy was set eons ago out of fear. It is time for change.”
Dora listened to the conversation with growing trepidation. The Kwadii sounded fanatical, and fanatics often believed that any compromise was weakness. Yet, Dora had caught overtones of sympathy in her intonation, but perhaps that was the alien translators and had nothing to do with Avanti’s personal feelings on the matter. However, to Dora it seemed almost as if Avanti was spouting a line of propaganda that she didn’t believe.
Dora was far from giving up hope. Zical could be most persuasive. He’d convinced Tessa to fund this mission and the Federation to go along with the plan, then convinced the scientists to join him. She had confidence that if any man could find a way to extricate them from Kwadii, that man would be Zical.
They entered a large building. Inside the air was cooler and the benches, gates, and booths for flight personnel reminded Dora of many spaceport terminals. Except this site lacked other people. The kiosks were closed, the lights bright, leaving no place for Kirek to hide. Up ahead, Zical continued to speak with Avanti, and Dora was certain that while he spoke he was assessing and analyzing escape routes.
Kirek tugged Dora’s hand, and she leaned down to hear his whisper. “Behind us.”
At his words, she glanced over her shoulder. A man to the rear of their group, one of Dr. Laduna’s scientists, bolted from the group and attempted to duck out a side door.
