“Any missile that gets past Ekatya will be neutralized by our ground pounders or fighters. We prepared for this, tyrina. Let the warriors do their jobs. You do yours.”
“They’re coming.” Salomen hovered in a nothingness of time and space, sensing the tangle of minds racing toward her. “I can feel them.”
There were two glowing concentrations of emotions. One pulsed with fear, arrogance, and foreign hatred. The other also held fear, but largely of a protective flavor. The minds there were more determined than hateful.
One shone above them all.
Just as she leaped for the ship of foreign hatred, the other shot through space, curving directly in front of her. She fell into it, helplessly tumbling until she landed in a heap—on the bridge of the Phoenix.
Ekatya was there, staring at the upper display with horror coming off her in waves. She spoke in Common, her words rushed with urgency, then caught herself and added what sounded like instructions in a clear, deliberate manner. Despite the circumstances, Salomen was fascinated by the way her words affected the emotions of every officer on the bridge. They had been fearful, but now settled into a fierce resolve.
Ekatya spun her chair to face Salomen and stopped in shock. Her lips moved, forming a single word that she did not speak aloud.
Salomen?
Though stunned, Salomen managed to think herself across the bridge and up to the command chair. “You can see me?”
Andira’s astonishment vibrated through their link. “Is that Ekatya?”
Salomen nodded her physical head in answer, just as Ekatya did the same in front of her.
“You have to do this quickly,” Ekatya whispered. “Stop them, now. Whatever it takes, stop them.”
Her emotional signature was warm and welcoming, despite the fear on its surface. Deep in its core was a spark Salomen recognized: a piece of Andira, embedded within. She had never seen it before, but now it glowed like a beacon, calling to her.
In her physical ear, Colonel Razine urgently reported something on their reserved channel. It wasn’t important. What mattered was right in front of her.
“Salomen! They’re firing bioforce missiles. Do you understand? They’re planning to wipe out your civilization, down to the last child. We’re doing what we can, but you have to go. Now!”
Reality rushed in, disintegrating the shock-induced bubble of calm. Salomen gathered herself, felt for the Voloth ship, made her leap—
And fell onto the bridge of the Phoenix.
Scrambling up, she tried again.
Finding herself once more at the side of Ekatya’s chair, she lost hope. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she gasped. “I cannot make the jump. It’s as if—” She reached out, drawn to that piece of Andira. “I’m being held here. I need more power.”
Ekatya watched her hand, then looked up with an electric shock of realization. “From me?”
“It’s Ekatya,” Andira said at the same time. “You’re anchored to her for a reason. Use her strength.”
“From you,” Salomen agreed.
Without hesitation, Ekatya snapped out a crisp sentence that had Commander Lokomorra turning to stare up at her in disbelief. She said something else, then made an impatient gesture. The commander swiveled back to his console and began calling out to the bridge.
“I’ve turned command over to Lokomorra. He’s a little startled, but all we’re doing now is defense. He’ll be fine. Do you need me to open my shirt?”
“I don’t think so.” Her hand passed through clothing and connected with the life force beneath. It settled her, a burst of power that brought Ekatya’s confidence into her blood. She envisioned it flowing through her, carrying away her toxic panic and replacing it with the strength of a trained warrior.
She focused, jumped—
And wept when she landed in the same place.
“It’s not working!”
Ekatya closed her eyes, forcing down the frustration and fear. Her emotional control was riveting, a skill Salomen wished she could absorb as easily as the power.
In the space of one breath, her eyes opened and her signature flared with revelation.
“We need the seventh star.”
10
Shelter
Lhyn paled when Micah told her and Lanaril why they had to move.
“Orbital bombardment?” she said as they hurried away from the quad. “It’s a war crime!”
Her disbelief struck Micah as darkly amusing. It was interesting how the Protectorate didn’t consider unprovoked invasion, slaughter, and enslavement a war crime. But shooting missiles from orbit? That crossed some sort of line.
“Does Ekatya know, or is she assuming the worst?”
“If she waited until she knew for sure, we’d have no time to get you to shelter,” Micah said shortly. He possessed neither the time nor the patience for questions, even from Lhyn. Thank Fahla he only had two civilians on his hands.
The warriors streaming down the paths moved with purpose but no panic. They would shelter in the bunkers beneath the barracks, chipped out of the mesa in the earliest days of the base. The rocks from those excavations now paved Aerial Way.
He led Lhyn and Lanaril down a different, smaller path.
“We’re going to the war room,” he said, cutting off the question Lhyn was drawing breath to ask. It was deeper and far more hardened than the bunkers. That room and others on its level were currently housing some of the most important people on Alsea.
“I’ve been to the war room. It’s over there.” She pointed toward the towering administration building.
“That’s not the only entrance.”
“Escape tunnel. It wouldn’t have just one entrance.” Lanaril dredged up a smile. “Don’t look so surprised, Colonel. Blacksun Temple has secret underground entrances, too. You could have included us in your shelter plans.”
“The temple is a primary target,” he reminded her.
Her smile fell, revealing the fear it had masked. Kicking himself as a dokker’s ass, he tried to make amends.
“Fahla has a special love for her temples. I believe she’ll protect them today, as she did in the Battle of Alsea. But we couldn’t base our plans on faith.”
“We just left our Lancer, Bondlancer, and the entire population of divine tyrees to face orbital bombardment with nothing more than combat vests. Faith is all we have.”
That shut him down. His guilt at leaving Tal and Salomen behind could not be assuaged by any rational argument. Yes, Tal had made it an order. Yes, he was a coordinator of the shelter plan, and yes, he had been designated—over his objections—as a senior leader of what they euphemistically called Alsea Ascendant. It was absurd, the idea that he could be a founder of the second civilization after abandoning the leader of the first.
Faith was indeed all they had.
He wondered if Alejandra knew. How quickly did battle data get to the chief surgeon? There were so many things he hadn’t asked her, so many conversations yet to be shared. And one in particular she was adamantly unwilling to have.
She had returned to her suite a hantick after walking out and said she couldn’t speak of it then. She understood why he brought it up, appreciated his motives, but asked him to respect her need for time.
Time. He could almost laugh. Time was the one thing they did not possess. If Alsea Ascendant was put into motion, his desire to have a child would no longer be a choice. It would become an imperative, with or without Alejandra’s participation.
His earcuff activated with the voice of Colonel Razine.
“Orbital bombardment has commenced. The Phoenix is defending and has recalled all fighters. We’re sending most of our fighters as well, including those guarding Blacksun.”
Before he could recover from the surprise of leaving Blacksun undefended, she added, “The missiles are not nuclear. They are genetic disruptors, designed to exterminate Gaians on a planetary scale. Prime Scholar Yaserka confirms Captain Serrado’s assessment: given our ge
netic similarities, they will exterminate Alsean life as well. This is an extinction-level threat. No missile can be allowed to explode in our lower atmosphere.”
Micah stopped in the middle of the path.
“What is it?” Lhyn asked.
He seized her arm and dragged her with him. The hidden entrance was at the end of this wall. “No time. Move! Ekatya was right, but they’re firing a different kind of missile.”
“A different—what other—oh, no.” Lhyn’s horror roared through their skin contact, weakening his knees. “Not bioforce.”
Reaching the boulder that served as an anchor for the wall, he tapped a four-point pattern into a patch of what appeared to be lichen. The patch rotated in place, exposing the smooth scanner hidden on its back side. He pressed his palm to it and spoke rapidly. “Corozen Lintale Micah, Colonel, Alsean Defense Force.”
A tiny light blinked blue before the boulder slid back, silent as a ghost despite its size. Beneath it, stone steps descended into a lit passageway.
“I don’t know the name,” he said, nudging her forward. “Some kind of genetic disruptor—”
“And you’re leaving them out there?” she shouted, spinning on her heel.
He caught her as she tried to run past. “Lhyn!”
“Let me go, you shekking—you’re leaving them to die!”
The fury blasting off her skin loosened his grip. She was enraged enough to strike, raising her fist in an untrained attempt that he easily caught.
“Lhyn, stop! I don’t want to hurt you.” Pulling her back to the stairs was like trying to carry a frantic winden. She fought him every step of the way.
“You’re killing them!” Rage shattered into icy shards of terror and grief, breaking her voice. “Micah, please!”
Lanaril’s eyes were red as she watched. He could only imagine the beating her senses were taking, but she would not raise her blocks. Sensing Lhyn’s pain was the only way they could honor it.
“Go,” he grunted, wrapping an arm around Lhyn’s twisting body. “I’ll bring her. I have to close the door.”
She hurried down the steps, leaving him to wrestle Lhyn through the doorway. The boulder slid into place above him, cutting off the sunlight, breeze, and every scent and sound of a living Alsea.
They were safe. He had done the worst of his duty.
Lhyn went limp, her fight vanishing the instant the door sealed. The sudden dead weight nearly overbalanced him, but he managed to get one arm under her knees and lift her while taking a step down, saving them both from a headlong tumble.
At the bottom of the steps, he crouched and set her on the flagstone floor. She slumped in place, her face turned away.
“How could you?” she croaked.
“It’s my duty. Do you think I wanted to?”
He had meant to speak gently, but the accusation bit deep. She looked up, calm despite the streaming tears, and shook her head.
She needed to live. Not just for Ekatya’s sake, but also to keep alive the memories of Tal and Salomen should their plan fail. Lhyn was the storyteller, the scholar of traditions and histories that shaped their culture. She would be the repository of stories that were not yet written.
If his burden was to lead, hers was to remember.
He was gathering the words to tell her when she stirred to life, scooting back to rest against the rough wall.
“Bioforce.” Her voice echoed hollowly in the narrow space. “They’re called bioforce missiles. They’re supposed to be a deterrent between the Protectorate and the Voloth Empire. Neither side has ever used them against a population. I don’t—why would they do it?”
Lanaril knelt in front of her, resting a hand on her leg. “Why were you tortured? Because they fear us.”
“This can’t happen. It can’t!”
“Trust in Fahla. Trust in Ekatya. You know she will do her best, and her best is very, very good.”
She let her head thud back against the wall hard enough to make Micah wince. “Ekatya will do whatever it takes. She’ll ram that shekking ship if she has to. If my choice is to lose her or watch Alsea die . . .”
Micah’s blood froze. If Ekatya rammed the flagship, Alejandra would die with her. There would be no time to eject escape pods. Even if there were time, the pods would be defenseless against four still-active Voloth destroyers with angry captains looking for revenge.
Would Fahla be so cruel as to give him a second chance and then take it away?
“Micah.”
He twitched at the voice he hadn’t expected to hear again.
“Bring Lhyn back. We need her in the link. Hurry.”
Tal was still giving instructions as he seized a startled Lhyn, pulled her upright, and pushed her toward the stairs. Despite his rough handling and the lack of information, she ran up ahead of him.
“We’re coming,” he told Tal, and slapped his hand against the biolock. Light and fresh air poured in as the boulder slid aside.
Lhyn bounded out and faced him. “What’s happening?”
“Salomen is with Ekatya. But she cannot reach the Voloth ship. Ekatya said to tell you they need the seventh star.”
Her eyes widened before she turned and took off at a dead run.
Micah followed as quickly as he could, but her legs were longer and younger. She vanished around a corner in the path.
“Beauty precedes age,” Lanaril said.
He nearly fell over his feet, shocked by her presence beside him. “What are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be safe!”
“Safe is relative. I agreed to be on the shelter list because you were right, the survivors would need their Lead Templar. But the seventh star? This is Fahla, acting before our very eyes. I won’t miss the chance to bear witness.” She increased her pace, leading him by half a step. “Keep up, Colonel.”
He cursed all stubborn scholars and called Gehrain. Lhyn would need to be equipped with an earcuff, enabling her to join the quantum com call that Ekatya had established with Tal and Salomen. “Since she’s going to beat me there by half a length,” he finished.
“I’ll take care of it, Colonel.”
By the time he and Lanaril came within sight of the quad, Lhyn was already sprinting between the lines of divine tyrees toward the brilliant glow enveloping Tal and Salomen.
“Great Mother,” Lanaril panted. “It’s brighter than a molwyn tree.”
“It’s thirty-two divine tyrees.” Micah took some comfort in the fact that he might be slower, but she was breathing harder.
“Thirty-three,” she corrected. “Soon to be thirty-four.”
Gehrain met Lhyn halfway. Even at this distance, Micah could see her fidgeting while being fitted with the earcuff and wristcom. As soon as it was done, she shot away like a rail gun projectile.
Only in the last strides did she slow down. It was difficult to distinguish anything when she stepped into the shifting light, but he thought he saw her lift her hands.
Then he was falling, pushed backward by the energy pulse that blew across the quad. A flare of white light left him blinking away spots as he stared into the faultless blue sky.
“Fahla, my Goddess,” came a murmur from beside him. “I kept your faith.” Lanaril picked herself up and let out an incredulous laugh. “Did you see it? Like a bolt to the stars!”
He rolled to his knees. “I saw a flash,” he began, and stopped.
In the center of the quad, Lhyn stood motionless with Tal and Salomen.
But there was no light at all.
11
Flagship
No sooner did Lhyn’s hand touch the back of her neck than Salomen’s shackles fell away. Power sparked at her fingertips, a surfeit of unquenchable strength.
She did not hesitate nor pause for a word of greeting before making her leap. Empty space flashed by at the speed of thought, and she splashed into a new river of emotions.
Look for the highest concentration of arrogance, Alejandra had said. The minds that don’t care how muc
h harm they do.
There was a great deal of arrogance on this ship, but relatively little was accompanied by entitlement. In fact, considering the high levels of hatred, she sensed a surprising amount of unease. It seemed that not every member of this crew agreed with genocide, even of a species they had been taught to abhor.
She opened her senses, letting the currents drift past while she sifted through emotions. The misery and fear were heartbreaking, but she had to set them aside. Those were surely the slaves. She couldn’t help them, and they were not where she needed to go.
There. A pocket of . . . not hatred, but dislike, distaste, and callous indifference. Here were the minds that didn’t care. They brimmed with the arrogance and entitlement she expected while adding a heaping dose of ambition.
She leaped, landed—
And stared openmouthed at the three figures who had landed with her.
“Well, this is a surprise,” Lhyn said.
Andira blinked rapidly, then shook off her shock and began looking around their new environment.
Ekatya was already moving to the back of the busy room. Unlike her bridge, with its expansive space and central dais of three concentric rings, this bridge was smaller, more crowded, and divided into five levels that ran the width of the room. Each level held several workstations staffed by Voloth officers, all facing the display on the front wall. Though large, it offered little of the immersive sense conveyed by the hemispheric displays of the Phoenix.
Still, the split view of Alsea and the Phoenix was compelling enough. It was clear that both were viewed as enemies. While Salomen could understand that for an opposing ship, she had no comprehension of minds that saw a living planet and its entire population as hostile adversaries deserving death.
She watched Ekatya glide up the levels and noted that the higher the officers sat, the more ornate their uniforms became. The fifth and highest level was also the most spacious, housing two chairs side by side. Both resembled thrones more than command chairs, with intricately cast metal legs, backs that towered over the heads of their occupants, and cushions of deep blue. Behind them, matching blue banners draped across the wall.
Alsea Rising: The Seventh Star (Chronicles of Alsea Book 10) Page 5
