The Champion (18 page)

Hulsey nodded. “We’re on the third and fourth generation of the original crew’s descendants. They’ve never known anything but this ship, the Stretch and their training. Trainees keep their own cultures and traditions, and are free to pursue any religion they like.”

That explained the infinity tattoo. It made sense: so many Purist ships had been lost here that the crews could have formed a good-sized colony.

Quentin stared out at the stunning display. Trees, sunlight, water, sentients relaxing and playing ... the place buzzed with life.

Ju pointed off to the left, off and
up
.

“Jiminy,” he said, “They even got birds.”

A flock of two dozen, maybe, moving as one, all angling left or right at exactly the same moment.

“Not
birds
,” Doc Patah said, his synthetic voice thick with disgust. “Those are Creterakians.”

The flying creatures came closer, and Quentin could make out tadpole-shaped bodies driven forward by membranous wings. They were bats, all right, wearing suits of the same red material that made up Hulsey’s robes.

“The Takeover,” Kimberlin said. “Back in 2640, the Creterakians sent nine hundred ships into the Cloud to try and conquer it, just as they had conquered the League, the Union, the Nation and the others. Those nine hundred were never heard from again.”

Quentin remembered the first time he’d met Manny Sayed, on the liner that had carried Quentin from Micovi to the
Combine
. Manny had talked about the Takeover, when the bats had invaded the Purist Nation. The Creterakians packed their soldiers in tight, a million to each ship — nine hundred ships entering the Portath Cloud meant an invasion force of
nine hundred million
. How many had died? How many had the Portath captured? Had those captured individuals flourished, bred far more of their kind?

Leekee, Creterakians, Humans from Tower and the Purist Nation ... just how many “trainees” did the Portath have?

“There are more ships like this one,” he said. “Aren’t there.”

“There are,” Hulsey said. “Although none as big as this. This is one of the three original ships that came from the home system. The other two were lost after the Portath first arrived in this galaxy.”

John crossed his arms. “I don’t get it. There’s a whole planet out there, nice lady. Looks like the booger-bags haven’t touched it. Why don’t you live on it?”

“For the very reason you will be the first to leave here — the Abernessia,” Hulsey said. “We harvest renewable resources from that planet, but are careful to leave no trace of any kind. We prepare for war, but always knew that if the Abernessia came to the Cloud and didn’t detect us, we could slip away, find another place to hide. If they found evidence of our culture on the planet, they would know they were on the right path and continue their hunt. Our fleet is always ready to evacuate.”

For the first time, Quentin felt bad for the Portath, even for the trainees. An entire race of sentient beings with no planet, no orbital station, no fixed point in the universe to call their own. Their ships were their homes. Food, manufacturing, family, culture — all mobile, ready to go anywhere on a moment’s notice. A nomadic people, forever wandering the Portath Cloud and wherever else their travels might take them.

“But now you want to fight,” Quentin said. “Thousands of years of hiding, and now you want to fight. Why?”

Hulsey smiled. “We hid because if the Abernessia know the Portath are here, they will come for us first. That’s why we couldn’t contact other races, why no other races could be allowed to see us. We always
wanted
to fight; we just never thought we could win. If Petra can bring the races together, maybe we can.”

Quentin had to stifle a dark, biting laugh — like Petra could bring anyone together, anyone other than her own kind. A few Prawatt playing football wasn’t going to change the fact that the rest of the galaxy hated and feared her species.

He pointed over the rail to the valley below. “Is my sister down there?”

Hulsey nodded. “She is. I’ll take you to her now.”

• • •

JEANINE AND FRED WERE WAITING
for them in the thin strip of woods. When she saw Quentin, she ran to him and launched herself into his arms. He squeezed her tight, smelled her hair and felt her squeeze him back.

“Quentin, I can’t believe this,” she said. “
How
? How did you find us?”

He gripped her shoulders, looked her up and down. She’d cut her hair short, but there was no mistaking that caramel skin, those eyes that were so similar to the ones that looked back at him from the mirror.

“Are you okay? Have they hurt you?”

Jeanine shook her head, but reached up and touched the thin golden collar wrapped tightly around her neck.

“Not permanently,” she said. “But every day Fred and I go to the
Hypatia
for training. If we don’t do what they ask, or we do it incorrectly, the pain is ... I’ll call it
severe
”

Quentin’s lip curled. His hands started to squeeze, an automatic reaction to blinding anger, but he caught himself before he hurt his sister. He let go, let his hands drop to his sides. At that moment, if he could have handed the entire Portath race over to their extinction-hungry pursuers, he would have done it without a second thought.

He glared at Hulsey.

“Not a slave, huh? You torture my sister into doing what you want?”

“Combat is pain,” Hulsey snapped. “Your sister has superior reaction time. She’s being trained as a cannon operator. If we go into battle and she hesitates, if she
misses
, she could die, as could others on the ship. Pain helps her understand the ramifications, that every shot is critical. You call that
torture
? Don’t be so weak. Our collars make sure we execute orders that will keep the fleet safe.”

Hulsey was so far gone there was no reaching her. Logic wasn’t a part of her nature, it seemed. Earlier, Kimberlin had said,
with religion, all manner of behavior is possible
. All manner of behavior, and also all manner of justification.

Quentin put his arm around his sister and held her close. He turned to Fred, who was wincing from John’s overzealous hugging and back thumping.

“John, take it easy,” Fred said. “Won’t do me any good to live through this if you just kill me with kindness.”

“I was worried about you, my mind-reading buddy,” John said. “We had to come and save your ass.”

John had been friends with Fred before Quentin had even arrived on Ionath. Had John actually come for Fred, and not to help Quentin find Jeanine? If so, did that even matter now?

“Hello, Fred,” Quentin said. “Are you okay?”

Fred winced at another overzealous back-thump, then pushed John away.

“I will be okay if your linebacker doesn’t kill me,” he said. “Other than the occasional pain in my neck when I make a mistake with the
Hypatia
, I’m fine.”

“The
Hypatia
isn’t a warship,” Quentin said. He looked at his sister. “It doesn’t have cannons.”

“Does now,” Fred said. “She’s been refitted with weaponry and armor. Some next-level stealth in there as well, apparently — the engineers really liked your yacht’s design. The Portath tech, Q — it’s amazing.”

Quentin thought about the Ki freighter anchored next to Rosalind; maybe it was much more than just a freighter.

“Did the Portath do that with all the ships up there?”

“So it seems,” Fred said. “I’m supposed to be the
Hypatia’s
captain, since it’s the only ship Jeanine and I know how to fly.”

Fred gave an exaggerated wink. Jeanine reached for him, hugged him.

“That’s right,” she said. “Since we came as a team, they kept us together.”

She sounded grateful, and Quentin understood why. Fred knew how to fly just about anything. He’d commanded a Purist Nation warship once, although he refused to give up details about that experience. He’d also captained the
Touchback
when Quentin and John had stolen it. If Fred had revealed his skills, the Portath might have assigned him to a bigger ship — and not assigned Jeanine to go with him. Even when facing the rest of his life stranded in the Cloud, Fred had stayed by Jeanine’s side. Quentin would not forget that.

Jeanine simply beamed at the Krakens, seemed to be in disbelief that so many people would come for her and Fred.

“Thank you all,” she said. “Thank you so much.”

Ju, Kimberlin and Starcher smiled back, all three of them giddy at the dangerous mission’s final success. Becca smiled, too, but she looked away, uncomfortable with Jeanine’s gratitude.

John stepped up and offered his hand to Jeanine.

“Hello there,” he said. “My name is Jonathan.”

Quentin looked at him quizzically.
Jonathan
?

Jeanine grinned and shook John’s hand. She wasn’t a small woman — she shared Quentin’s genes, after all — but she looked like a toy next to the 310-pounder.

“I know who you are,” she said. “I’ve watched my brother’s games.”

John smiled wide, delighted. “You’re a football fan? That’s awesome.”

“John, not now,” Quentin said.

There would be plenty of time for thanks and small talk later, after they were aboard Rosalind and back in civilized space. He had his sister, his friend, and the information that had made a living god set up this dangerous charade. The adventure was over: it was time to go home.

He turned back to Hulsey.

“Thank you for bringing me to Jeanine,” he said, squeezing his sister tighter. “We’re ready to leave.”

Hulsey frowned, confused. She looked at Jeanine, then back to Quentin, then realization set in.

“Your sister can’t go with you,” she said. “Neither can Fred.”

His rage, the fuel that had driven him through most of his life, that he had worked so hard to keep in check, suddenly crashed over him, a tidal wave that swept him up and carried him along. More games from the Portath? Quentin started to shake, to tremble, and wondered not only how far he could throw Hulsey, but what would happen to her head when it smashed against a tree.

Becca and Kimberlin suddenly rushed between Quentin and Hulsey, Becca facing the red-robed woman, Kimberlin facing Quentin. Kimberlin’s hands rose slightly, as if he thought Quentin might try to rush past at any second.

“Get out of my way, Mike,” Quentin said.

Becca turned sharply. “Q, be quiet.”

A request — a
firm
request, but not a command. Becca knew he had lost it; she was trying to control the situation. Quentin took a step back, focused on reining in his temper.

Becca faced Hulsey.

“Jeanine and Fred are coming with us,” Becca said. “Bloodletter said we could leave, right?”

“Bloodletter isn’t their trainer,” Hulsey said. “The Gouger is.”

“
Trainer
,” Quentin spat, looking around Kimberlin’s wide body at this woman he now hated with everything he had. “You mean
owner
.”

Hulsey leaned to her right, looking around Becca to return Quentin’s glare.

“
Trainer
is what I said, and
trainer
is what I meant. You don’t know anything about our culture, Barnes, anything about our laws. Petra asked that the sentients who arrived on your ship, on Rosalind, could leave unharmed — Bloodletter agreed to that. Jeanine Carbonaro and Frederico Esteban Giuseppe Gonzaga were
not
on Rosalind.”

John crossed his arms, jutted out his chin.

“They’re with us,” he said, his voice a lethal growl. “You don’t want to screw with me, lady.”

Kimberlin turned slightly, his upturned hands seemingly ready to stop John as well as Quentin.

“John, stop it,” Kimberlin said. “Now is not the time for threats.”

“Wrong,” Ju said. “Now is the
perfect
time for threats.”

Quentin couldn’t agree more. Jeanine and Fred stood tall, stood firm, but he sensed their fear. They had thought it was all over, but now their only chance to escape was falling apart before their eyes. Quentin would get them out of this place or he would die trying.

“Hulsey, I don’t give a damn about your culture,” he said. “We came here for Jeanine and Fred, and we’re not leaving without them.”

She rubbed her face, as if the whole ordeal exhausted her.

“I suppose there is one way. You have to make a legal challenge to their trainer. This has never happened before, because every non-Portath who has come here has been a trainee, and trainees aren’t allowed to make challenges. But, since Bloodletter freed you, you aren’t trainees.”

A loophole in the system. That was fine with Quentin, whatever it took to get the job done.

“I’ll challenge,” he said. “Do we have to go to court or something?”

Hulsey shook her head. “You have to challenge the Gouger to combat. If he refuses to fight, you become Fred and Jeanine’s trainer and can take them with you. If the Gouger accepts, then you and he will settle it in the stone pit.”

Curved knives flashing, blood spilling, a sentient life cut short by the slash of a blade. If that was the only solution, then “the Gouger” would soon find out that a professional athlete was a far cry from some random ship crewmember.

Quentin nodded. “I understand.”

“It’s a one-time-only option,” Hulsey said. “If you challenge for Fred and Jeanine and lose, no one else can challenge for them.”

John raised his hand. “In that case, Lady Fun-Times, I officially challenge the multicolored booger-bag that owns Jeanine.”

Quentin wheeled on him.

“Dammit, John,
knock it off
! This isn’t some stupid game, you idiot. Jeanine is my sister and this is
my
fight.”

John’s eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, stood only a foot from Quentin.

“Q, this ain’t a scuffle in the locker room, and this ain’t a gridiron with refs who’ll keep your quarterbacky face all in one pretty piece. You heard the lady ... there’s killin’ involved. No offense, my brother from another mother, but you’re not cut out for this kind of thing.”