“Do you see them?”
“The red one isn’t in there. The black one is setting up a heavy weapon.”
Ogidar supported himself with a hand on the side of the tyrant that had wounded him. He lowered his coil rifle and steadied himself with its muzzle against the floor.
“What kind of weapon?”
“I don’t recognize it.”
“Damn.” Ogidar grimaced. “If this is what they do without shooting.”
Yajain’s hand fell to grasp her vare blade, leaving the med kit on the floor behind her.
“Where’d the other one go?”
“Probably fled.” Adya changed the magazine of her pistol. “He’s definitely the leader.”
Boskem’s voice echoed in Yajain’s already ringing ears.
“I’m taking the shot.” In the same instant, a crack of ballistics and crash of falling rubble sounded. Adya checked around the corner.
“Got the black one.”
Yajain sighed, the strength of adrenaline still raged in her muscles. All dead then, not taking one alive today. A deafening roar filled her ears. The red tyrant surged around the corner of the hall they’d taken to the access chamber. A beam of energy slashed toward Yajain. Ogidar hit her from behind and she sprawled to the floor. Blood sizzled on the back of Yajain’s uniform. Ogidar’s armored frame hit the floor behind her. Yajain looked back. The Ditari cabler’s armor had been reduced to a blackened crater from shoulder to shoulder.
Her eyes ran with tears.
“Damn it, Ogidar. Why did you do that?”
He didn’t reply. Eyes stared down the hall without sight.
She scrambled to her feet, seething. Her hand clenched on her vare blade.
Adya’s bullet hit the beam projector the tyrant held. The weapon sparked and burst in the center of its bulky cylindrical barrel. The red tyrant tossed the lethal instrument to the side. The sparks expanded into a searing blast of heat. Red armor blackened, armored tentacles fusing to its side.
Yajain’s vare blade flew from the sheath. Her lifts activated. She kicked off just as Boskem’s shot sliced through the red tyrant’s side. The wounded alien staggered one of its hind legs collapsing from the bullet. Yajain landed before the beast that had killed Ogidar. A tentacle lashed toward her. Her vare blade slashed it from the body. She drew the sword back to drive it into the tyrant’s face place.
A hand fell on her arm. Adya.
“Doctor, we can take this one alive.”
Yajain’s bloodied and burned skin broke as she tightened her grip on the vare blade. Blood flowed from her palm, mingling with that of the tyrants. She held the blade to the tyrant’s luminous yellow eyes.
“Damn you,” she said and dropped the blade.
The bombardment of Sifar settlement ended with the defense force’s surrender after less than four hours. Evidently, the tyrants did not have complete control over the chain of command, Yajain thought dully as she rode the tumbler back to Solnakite.
Ogidar’s body lay contained in a capsule barely tall enough for him on the floor of the tumbler by the front of the cabin. Near there, Cava Sogun was belted in across from Adya who sat with hands bound by a plastic tie. Sonetta and Banedd leaned against each other in their seats. Boskem hunched in silence, Adya’s rifle at his feet. The captured tyrant was already on its way to a sealed chamber on DiKandar Hall.
At the moment, Yajain didn’t care about that. Her eyes must be rimmed with red, a different red from the stains on her hands. The vare blade sat in its sheath across her knees. Her bandaged hand rested on its hilt. This hand had been trained to scribe poetry, to help newborn animals crawl. Less than an hour ago, this hand had killed. And she had tried to kill again, in anger. Yajain shuddered and pressed her palm to her forehead.
They docked with Solnakite. The meeting with Captain Ettasil happened in a blur for Yajain. Banedd and Boskem kept Adya aboard the tumbler to take her to Castenlock. According to a few hushed words between Sonetta and Sogun civilian casualties had been high. The team might return to the settlement to assist in a few hours, but for now, they could rest. Numb of mind, Yajain trudged through the corridors of Solnakite to the cabins.
Her uniform and heatsuit were damp with sweat, and bloody down her right side. When she showered the blood ran down her body, almost none of it hers, almost all of it thick and alien. She dressed in another set of underclothes and uniform and went back to her room.
Ogidar had died instantly. She’d checked his vitals after, but it had been obvious. No heart, no lungs, no life left to save.
Yajain hunched forward, avoiding the hammock in favor of her cold footlocker. Her order terminal beeped with a message. She ignored it. Ten minutes later it beeped again.
Someone wants to talk to me.
She ignored it, head in her hands. Until a knock came at her door. Even over the hum of Solnakite’s flight systems, Yajain couldn’t mistake the voice that followed it, feminine, with the hint of a sob.
“Doctor Aksari. Yajain! It’s Sonetta. Please, let me in!”
She rose from her footlocker and approached the door. Her hand hovered over the pressure pad that would open the door. She pressed it mechanically with the heel of her injured hand. The door opened. Sonetta stood before her, tears still clinging to her cheeks.
Yajain glowered at her.
“What is it?”
“It’s—” Sonetta paused. “Finder Boskem told me what happened. You…and that doctor of harvest, and Ogi—” She sighed. “I’m sorry I doubted you. You really weren’t a traitor.”
Why did it have to take death for her to realize that? Yajain sighed.
“I don’t know why you’re apologizing to me now.”
“Because. Because you could have died down there. Like…if you had I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for how I treated you.”
“We’ve been in danger all along.” Yajain’s voice sounded lifeless. “But thank you for the apology.”
Sonetta bowed her head.
“I’ll leave you alone now.”
“Thanks.”
Sonetta turned away and the door closed. Yajain checked the terminal messages. Both were from Captain Ettasil, wanting to see her in the ready room about the tyrant.
She sighed and then put on a poncho over her uniform for additional warmth. Nothing seemed to stop this cold. When Sonetta’s small footsteps receded from the door, Yajain opened the door and headed for the upper decks.
Yajain braced herself in the doorway of the small ready room as Solnakite banked. Captain Ettasil took the motion easily, though the reading pad on his desk shifted a few centimeters down its length. When the ship leveled out a moment later, he motioned to the chair across from him.
“Doctor, I know this is a bad time, but I need answers about what happened down there.”
“Finder Boskem probably has a report for you.”
Kebrim folded his hands.
“He didn’t see everything that happened in that chamber.”
Yajain took a deep breath and explained how they’d foiled tyrant plan. She described the scanner Boskem had killed.
“It was unusual, very small for a scanner, but Adya seemed to know it.”
“Interesting.” Kebrim’s hands unfolded and set down on the desk. His gaze appeared distant.
“I’m sure Adya will confirm what I’ve said.”
The reading pad on the desk beeped and Kebrim picked it up.
“It seems one Castenlock’s APVs has recovered the remains.” He set down the pad. “Get some rest, doctor.”
“Captain.”
“Cabler DiSayul wasn’t the only one who we lost in the battle. Captain Gattri is arranging a memorial service for tomorrow.”
Yajain bowed her head, dry-eyed.
“I will be there.”
“Of course.” His eyes closed for a moment and his pale face fell still. “Take care, doctor.”
The few local e
lements of Governor Sovilan’s fleet vacated the vicinity of Sifar Pillar quickly following the Ditari Fleet’s arrival. Even so, the memorial for fleet personnel was held aboard Castenlock, in the central hall just behind the bridge.
Captain Firio Gattri stood before the assembled crew on the tall back of a parked arc mover. Before him the six coffins that held the bodies of the dead lay in a row, heavy white capsules with arc lifts on their bases.
Yajain stood beside Sonetta and Banedd and the rest of the crew of Solnakite to one side of the assembly. Firio greeted the assembly with a few solemn words. He raised his head and gazed along the rows of men and women, not even a reading pad in his hand to help him. He spoke the names of the dead, complete with each rank. Overall, for such a dangerous mission they had been lucky, Yajain realized.
He knows that as well as I do. Firio must feel guilty because he’s relieved at the majority’s survival. When Firio said Ogidar’s name, guilt stabbed at Yajain too.
Firio spoke of heroism, and of sacrifice, but the military side of the memorial quickly gave way to his older monastic training based on the architecture of the universe.
“Yes, humans live. Yes, humans die. But all life is born from pillars. All life returns to them eventually.”
Scientifically speaking, the Architectural Universalists have a point, Yajain thought. It’s all based on the theory that energy flowed through the pillars at the beginning and then transformed into matter as the universe began to cool. Better ideas than Solna worship, but still far from our understanding.
Yajain bowed her head in prayer nonetheless.
Eventually, human life arose on the primal reef. Eventually, humanity returned to the pillars. And many millennia later, they were so different they fought a war along the lines of racial alliances.
Ten cycles later, a warrior named Ogidar pushed Yajain out of the path of an attack and died for it. He fought on behalf of his people’s enemy. He died to save a half-breed. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Damn it, Ogidar, why did you do it?
Firio’s speech ended and the arc coffins activated, rising from the floor. The assembly proceeded to the nearest docking hangar. They walked in silence. Light from the core leading along the length of the ship began to dim as the ship began to cycle from light to dark.
The hangar doors opened, revealing the gray wall of Sifar pillar close by. Castenlock hung in the arc field in the lee of the pillar, but still, raindrops blew in with the wind. Yajain did nothing to shield her face from the blast of frigid air.
The six arc coffins flew out the doors and drifted into the arc field close to the pillar’s side. Firio said a few more words. Yajain gulped and wiped away her tears as the service came to an end.
The crowd began to break up. Banedd turned to Yajain.
“I had no idea Captain Gattri was so good at speaking.”
“He was a chaplain years ago,” Yajain said. “This isn’t his first memorial service.”
Sonetta nodded, soberly. Banedd put an arm around the young medic’s shoulders.
“How do you know him so well?”
“I went to the academy with his daughter.” Yajain stared out at the coffins bobbing in the arc of Sifar. “Seems like that was ages ago.”
“Yeah,” Sonetta said. “I believe that.”
The doors closed and the three of them turned away.
Over the course of the next five changes the fleet deployed for relief around Sifar while meetings went on between Helle DiKandar, Captain Gattri, and the officials left behind by the governor. Transmissions went back to Habandra, rumored to be unreliable due to the curtains of clouds in between. Storms surrounded Sifar and Yajain’s spirits sank further.
On their first trip to the settlement since the battle, Senior Cabler Visho, a replacement for Ogidar joined Yajain’s team for security. Visho was a thickly built woman, at least fifty years old judging by her gray crew cut and lined face. She took charge without Boskem or Sogun aboard the tumbler.
“Keep this ship tight, people,” she barked. “Shouldn’t be any trouble, but stay on guard.”
They disembarked at one of the few intact terraces left attached to the settlement. Yajain and Sonetta trudged down the ramp with Banedd just behind them. Visho brought up the rear as they made their way to the overflow buildings designated by the local hospital.
Six from the fleet had died in the battle, and the bombardment had done far more damage to the locals. Yajain hadn’t heard any numbers, but stepping into the wide atrium where the wounded had been laid out on cots, she saw dozens.
The team made their way through a large chamber lit through transplastic domes by the bright glow of the core. The medics and doctors from the fleet were assigned to different wards to assist the local hospital staff. Yajain didn’t see Dara anywhere, but Sonetta said she had made it through the battle alright. Ruane’s Blade had been on the far side of the pillar during the bombardment and had suffered no losses. Still, Yajain worried somewhat at her absence.
Yajain worked a makeshift trauma ward with Sonetta and a few others for a shift. After six hours they headed toward the terrace, hungry, worn, and weary. Visho led the way down the street, and Banedd brought up the rear. This part of the settlement had not been breached, and many people were walking and arc-swimming all down the darkening street as the core dimmed. They reached the terrace exit and the tumbler descended into view, thrusters ablaze and hull gleaming with the red light of the solna beaming up from below.
She took a step onto the terrace where just a few people remained out in the open. Yajain’s gaze moved between sullen faces but looked away when she realized they were staring at her.
She pulled her hood up halfway across the terrace. The wind howled and carried ashes from the vertical fields above to the terrace. A high, desperate scream echoed from one side of the terrace.
Yajain whirled, facing toward the sound. A lightly built woman raced from between two buildings, a small knife in one hand. She closed the gap quickly. The blade stabbed toward Yajain’s chest. She stepped back and her arm flew to grab the woman’s wrist. She got a grip. The screaming woman hit her in the midsection and bowled her onto her back with the force of her charge. The knife sliced into Yajain’s uniform fabric.
A sliver of pain flared a few centimeters below Yajain’s collarbone where the knife nicked her. Her grip held, keeping the weapon from piercing any deeper. She stared into the face of the woman as the air returned to her lungs.
The woman’s face contorted with rage.
“Ditari bitch! How dare you come here!”
Yajain stared into the woman’s face.
“What happened here was wrong but it wasn’t my doing.”
“Don’t you blame us for what you did!”
Yajain twisted the woman’s wrist, a father’s defense training from years ago. The knife rolled to the terrace floor. Tears flew from the woman’s face. She looked young, not much more than a girl really.
Banedd and Sonetta rushed to Yajain and pulled the young woman away from her. Visho stood over them, rifle in her grip. The beginnings of a crowd had gathered around the tumbler. Yajain climbed to her feet, hand to her chest where the knife had cut her. Fingers came away with a trickle of blood. She winced.
“Damn it, I’m not one of them.” Yajain’s voice grew firm. “I tried to stop this battle.”
The woman on the floor shook, head in hands, tears flowing.
“Don’t lie. Don’t lie.”
Visho motioned to the tumbler.
“Get on board. Security forces are on their way. I’ll stay here for now.”
Yajain nodded. She and Banedd and Sonetta climbed the ramp into the tumbler. Sonetta opened her medkit and approached Yajain with a pad of gauze.
“For your cut.”
“Thanks,” Yajain said and took the pad from Sonetta. The tumbler lifted off.
Gellen Chakal called Yajain a few hours after she returned to Solnakite. Over
the static hum of the engines, Gellen told her command wanted to pull Yajain from medical duty temporarily.
It makes sense.
“What should I do then?”
“Captain Gattri has another job in mind for you. Your training is in animal biology, is it not?”
“It is, but I don’t see—”
“The captured tyrants are going to need examination…”
Yajain hadn’t been to Castenlock’s lab since the fleet had been re-purposed over sixty changes ago. A sense of her old excitement for research returned when she went to meet Dara there at the beginning of the next shift. The door slid open and Yajain found Dara standing at the center of the domed room. Holographic images of tyrants surrounded her, some still, some moving, some roaring with silent voices.
In one hologram box in midair slithered the tyrant Boskem had killed with the robotic soldier on the bridge of Gellen’s former ship. Another image looked to have been captured from Mosam’s boarding action that same day, with a tyrant standing over the bodies of the fallen crew, bellowing as beams and coil shot slashed through it. That faded quickly and another image, this one of Yajain flying into the head of the black-armored tyrant less than a week ago. Blood splashed up the chemically honed edge of the vare blade and covered Yajain’s holographic arm.
Nauseated, Yajain put a hand to her forehead. The door closed behind her. Bolts clunked into place. Dara turned, her black-suited form sliced through the images. She hit a button on a control panel and the images faded.
“Yajain,” she said. “Are you alright?”
Yajain removed the hand from her temple and tried to force the image of her killing the tyrant from her mind. Though the thought didn’t leave, she nodded.
“It’s nothing. Some of them just look too, too real.”
“They’re not pleasant. Contact with these creatures could have gone better.”
“You think so?” Yajain walked to the central viewing disk formed by the hard plastic cap of a core processor four meters in diameter and raised her eyebrows at Dara. “They seem to be the aggressors so far.”
Flame Wind Page 9
