Shield of Drani (World of Drani Book 1)

by Melonie Purcell

  Taymar turned her mind to the man, but he was no longer stooped over the woman. To her dismay, she felt him searching the lab for an injector. His mind screamed out the fact that it was for her.

  Because of her restraints, Taymar could no longer see him. She could still feel him, though, so she waited. Her telekinesis required sight, and after a series of bangs and what sounded like a dropped tray, he obliged her need. Injector in hand, the pointy little man popped up just to her left and took aim at her arm. He never made it that far. Taymar wrapped her mind around the cylinder and pushed it toward the man’s leg.

  His expression was sheer panic as he met Taymar’s eyes and grabbed his fist with his other hand. Even with both hands, he only managed to slow her progress as Taymar shoved the instrument forward. While she pushed against his straining efforts, she searched his mind for information on how to activate the device once she had it close enough to his skin. Her concentration was riveted on the injector. All of the normal places for a release button gave her nothing, and the man’s mind was a jumbled mess of desperation. He yelled something across the room, but she didn’t try to translate it. The cylinder jabbed into the man’s pasty skin. All she needed to do was find the activation button and release the drug. But how?

  He hopped backward, still struggling to pull the injector away from his leg. Taymar twisted her body in the restraints barely managing to keep him in her sights. But her focus was at its limit. Pinning the device against his leg and searching for the release at the same time had her thoughts stretched. Only the cold metal of another injector pressing against her neck made her realize someone new had joined the fray.

  Taymar released the pointed man instantly and threw her efforts against the new threat, but it was too late. The icy fingers of the drug wormed through her system. Already feeling the pull of darkness, she glared into the face of her newest enemy. His short hair sprouted up in a curly orange halo around his head. He even had orange hair growing from the rough pink blur of his face. As the drug stole her world, the man’s eyes faded into darkness. They were the same clear green as the seawater that pooled in the rocks of Newete’s shores. The eyes that looked back from the haze were at once troubled and calm. Then, they disappeared.

  ###

  “Prime Tanku Targer,” Sean began, staring at the Drani head of state on his viewer. Sean made no effort to hide his irritation. “We have your lass.”

  The man’s mouth smiled, but his eyes never twitched. “Excellent. Is she all right?”

  Sean sat back in his chair and laced his fingers together to keep them from making fists. “Well now, to the best of our knowledge, she’s fine. A bit stiff, maybe, but she’ll probably survive. My people, on the other hand, didn’t fare quite so well, now did they? My tactical officer is still recovering from three laser hits he took right to the belly and two more from a distance while your Arlele saw fit to use him as a shield. My personnel officer returned to us with a mild concussion. But now, after some sort of altercation with your runaway, Ranealla is in a bloody coma for no apparent reason. And your girl tried to give my doctor what for him would have been a lethal injection. While she was still under full restraints in medical. It seems there were a few details about this Arlele you neglected to mention, Mr. Targer.”

  The man’s beady brown eyes remained expressionless behind his drooping lids, but his fake smile, at least, had vanished. “You were warned, Captain McCauffer.”

  “No. The tiny bit of data you saw fit to send us said she was exceptionally smart. Exceptionally talented. In my world, that translates to smart and talented. Maybe with a fast and strong added in for good measure. It certainly doesn’t equate to she can do anything humanly possible and several things that aren’t, now does it?”

  The Tanku raised his brow. A new fold appeared on his forehead. “Saying she can exceed human standards isn’t exactly making your point, Mr. McCauffer, but she does have limitations.”

  Sean leaned into the viewer, but the Drani head of state didn’t pause long enough to allow comment. “I understand you recently acquired a new crew member who is Asheerian,” he continued, his tone hinting at boredom. “Consult her. I am certain she can explain those limitations to you.”

  “I wish I could, Tanku Targer, but as I just explained, my ship’s telepath is lying in my medbay, completely unconscious for reasons we cannot explain. I am quite certain she has all the answers. Probably an untapped trove of information. But since she is not up to sharing at the moment, how about if you fill in for her? Or if I am keeping you from more exciting work, perhaps you could transfer me to someone who can actually help before your runaway tears my ship apart.”

  The Tanku’s expression suddenly switched from boredom to legitimate concern. “The Asheerian is the one who is unconscious? The telepath?”

  “I believe we’ve covered this ground. Yes.”

  “When she was attacked…knocked unconscious, what happened exactly?”

  “I don’t know,” Sean snapped. “That is why I am talking to you! Your Arlele woke up in the medbay. She took one look at Ranealla, and without moving a bleedin’ finger, dropped her to the floor. Ranealla has been unconscious since. Her brain activity is normal—a little more active than normal, apparently—but she’s not waking up.” Sean noted the Tanku’s flash of fear and pressed on. “I’m wanting some answers. I want to know what this woman can and can’t do and how to contain her. I also want to know how to help my personnel officer. And while we are at it, how about telling me exactly why I was sent to track your missing person across space in the first place?”

  Targer didn’t quite manage to hide the crack in his voice when he finally responded. “Nevvis is already on his way to your ship. I expect him to arrive anytime. Just continue to hold your current position. I had intended to have him on the ship before you acquired Taymar, but his arrival was delayed. We had trouble obtaining secure transport. I cannot help your telepath from here. I am sure she will be fine. Nevvis can resolve the situation once he arrives. In the interim, you need to confine Taymar. What type of containment field does the Alliance use?”

  Sean wanted answers, not questions, and Targer was already assuming his pasted-on expressionless expression. “A standard tribidian spread. What exactly happened to Ranealla? I know you recognize the symptoms. You’ve seen this before, haven’t you?”

  “The explanation will be beyond your ability to understand. Can you mix a dinisolate ratio of four to one into your field?”

  “Yes. But try me on your explanation. We lowly non-telepathic types can grasp amazing amounts of information just by using our wee little ears.”

  A deafening silence filled the screen. Sean wasn’t sure Targer would answer. Maybe he had pushed the Dran too far. He seemed to have a knack for doing that.

  Finally, Targer opened his mouth to respond. Nothing came out. Something offscreen caught the Dran’s attention. He gave a silent instruction, then turned back to Sean, impatience etched on his face. “Captain McCauffer, Nevvis will be able to answer your questions when he arrives. Please, just hold your position, put Taymar in a confinement cell, and mix the field ratios as I have directed. She will be secure until Nevvis takes over.” The Tanku reached forward to end the transmission.

  “Wait just a bloody damned minute!”

  The Dran paused.

  “What’s stopping her from telepathically turning off the confinement field?”

  Targer sighed, visibly disgusted. “Captain, first of all, telepathy is a form of mental communication. A person cannot communicate mentally with a machine. There must be a mind on both sides of that process, which explains why communication with some people can be impossible. I believe telekinesis is the word you are looking for. The reason she cannot use telekinesis to turn off the field is that she doesn’t know how. Even if she does, psychic energy cannot travel through a dinisolate field.”

  The man’s arrogance crawled under Sean’s skin and twisted in his gut. He felt his face flush red, but
before he could respond, the Tanku gave a curt dismissal and was gone.

  “Thank the creator that was on a holo and not in person,” Sean grumbled. “I’d like to throttle him. I’d like to bloody well wipe that condescending sliver-eyed sneer off his bleedin’ face. With my bleedin’ boot.” He waved off his own viewer, then pushed himself back from his desk and jerked to his feet. Diplomacy was one thing, but Targer went far beyond that! Sean paced the wall behind his desk. And what had he gained? A containment field recipe? At least it was something.

  Still seething, Sean paused in front of the viewer and made an inner-ship call to Lieutenant Commander Jalla Savenat in the power-bay without the benefit of full holo vid. No point in broadcasting his irritation, and there was no hiding his red complexion when he was mad.

  “Yes, sir,” came her curt military reply. She was a woman who did everything in exact accordance with regulations, and she did it with such enthusiasm at times, it was annoying.

  “Jalla, I need you to add dinisolate to the cell B containment field at a ratio of four to one.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jalla returned. “I will take care of that right now.”

  “No, wait,” Sean added before Jalla could terminate the call. “I’m t’inking to play this safe. Drop a second containment field around the entire brig with the same ratios.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Jalla assured him again.

  Sean smiled. He had no doubt she would. He glanced back at the dark viewer. The memory of Targer’s squinty eyes stared back at him. The man was hiding something. More was at stake here than the Tanku was telling him, and Sean wanted to know what. Targer may not be talking, but someone else just might. It was time to visit the cargo he held secured, he hoped, in a containment cell.

  ###

  Half expecting to find her still drugged, Sean paused in front of the containment field and took a hard look at his very much awake detainee. Refraction from the dinisolate mix caused a slight ripple in the normally transparent barrier, but he could still see Taymar clearly enough. She sat on the bench directly across from him, with her back against the far wall and her knees pulled tightly against her chest. The odd leather-colored band that covered half her left forearm swirled in creams and reds where it pressed against her knees, but her complete disregard for the thing suggested the swirling was normal. Based on the reports from his two top engineers, the band was a technological wonder with no seams, no circuits, and no power source. Its purpose was anybody’s guess.

  Perched on the bench with the stillness of a predator, she tracked his every move with cold gray eyes that reminded him of the storms from his Irish childhood—beautiful and dangerous. The longer he watched, the more like a wild animal she seemed.

  Her skin was beige. Chocolate brown spots the size of his thumbnail started behind her ears and ran down both sides of her neck in a long diamond pattern, eventually disappearing into her torn shirt. Although he couldn’t see them at the moment, he knew from the medbay that she had a similar pattern on her inner wrists and ankles. They were an exact match of her hair, which was a tangled mess of twigs and leaves. Errant clumps broke loose from the band that held them, and hung in defiance across her face. She didn’t move them aside. She didn’t move at all. She just sat and watched him, her lean muscles tensed as if ready to pounce, her eyes piercing his soul.

  Before he reached over and enabled the audio, Sean decided one thing for certain. If the Dran were built like Targer and the Arleles were built like Taymar, he would take the Arleles any day.

  Sean tapped the panel engaging the audio, and waited for a reaction. Nothing. “Good morning,” he said finally. “I am Captain Sean McCauffer. You’re on the Alliance starship Regal, and I’m afraid, for the moment at least, you’re here as a prisoner.”

  Still nothing. Not even a shift in her breathing. He continued. “I’d like to thank you on behalf of the Alliance for sending us that Shreet destroyer. I’m to understand that was quite the feat on your part.”

  Cocking her head, Taymar gave Sean a scrutinizing stare. “Does the Alliance usually shoot people to show their appreciation?” Her voice sounded slightly hoarse, probably from dehydration, and she had a mild accent, but nothing distracting.

  “Do Arlele residents of Drani typically try killing the people who come asking them questions?” he returned, mirroring her sarcastic innocence.

  Taymar rolled her eyes—the universal language for disgust—and cleared her throat. “We are on our way back to Drani, I assume?”

  Sean shook his head. “No.”

  “Then where are we going?”

  Before Sean could answer, the door across the room slid open and Lieutenant Darnealiate Lats walked into the retaining room, lugging a bag stuffed with medical equipment. The man was so short, chest high if he stood on his toes, that the bag barely cleared the floor. His expression of concentration didn’t help his cause, and as usual, Sean saw the doctor as a bloody leprechaun sans the green skin. Dar’s pointed chin, pointed nose, and disproportionately large head made it impossible to take him seriously. All he needed was a pipe and a beard. Sean looked away, thankful the Karn wasn’t also a telepath.

  “Morning, Captain,” said the doctor, stopping next to Sean. “I was coming to check on my somewhat unenthusiastic patient. I just left the other two casualties of this adventure.”

  “And how are they?”

  “Well, Kellin is coming along. He took several shots that would have been lethal for you or me. He’s so mean, though. I’ll have to send him to his quarters tonight just to protect my medbay.”

  Dar’s playful grin countered his words and Sean nodded his understanding. Lieutenant Kellin Sacondore was anything but agreeable when he wasn’t immersed in his work. His passion made him an impeccable tactical officer, despite his questionable loyalties. “What about Ranealla?” He watched the doctor’s grin fade.

  “The same. I don’t know what’s happening there. According to every test I have, she should be fine, but she’s still unconscious with no signs of coming out of it.”

  Both men looked to Taymar. She had managed to turn so her legs dangled off the bench, but her pinched expression betrayed how much effort that small movement had taken. As she sat rotating her ankles, even her white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bench didn’t stop the shivering.

  “Can you help us out here?” Sean asked, unsure if he should be angry at the young woman or feel bad for her.

  “I probably could help you with whatever you want, if you let me out.”

  “What did you do to Ranealla?”

  “Is she the telepath?”

  Sean nodded, but when Taymar didn’t look up from flexing her ankles, he said, “Yes.”

  One fraction at a time, Taymar crawled off the bench, grunting when her feet took her full weight. “She’s fine.”

  Stepping closer to the containment field, Sean waited until Taymar looked up. “She’s not bloody well fine. You’ve done something to her. Robbed her of her freedom. It may be that you’re killing her. As long as she’s in that bed, subject to whatever you did, she’s not fine then, is she?”

  Taymar raised her eyebrow in mock surprise. “Oh, really.” With obvious effort, she took two hard-earned steps toward the captain and paused just on the other side of the field. “So, she’s not fine because she lost her freedom? Thank you for explaining that, Mr. Captain Sean McCauffer of the starship Regal, who stole me away from my home and locked me in here because I…oh, wait. You don’t actually have a reason, do you? Maybe that whole freedom thing only applies to the Alliance people?” She locked her hands behind her back. “I guess that means your telepath is as fine as I am.”

  For a moment, Sean said nothing. He only watched her, standing boldly before him, pale from the movement and trembling from cold. Finally, in a more compassionate tone, he said, “Your point is taken.” Then he turned to Dar. “Why’s she so cold? It’s not the room climate.”

  “It’s the drug. I’m not complaining, but
you gave her an overdose this morning. That’s why I came to check on her. I kept her in the medbay as long as I dared, but she still has too much of the sedative in her system.”

  “Are you telling me then that there’s no counter drug you can give her?”

  “There is, but who knows how it will react for her. We know almost nothing about either the Dran or the Arleles. I hate to give her anything unless I have to.”

  Sean nodded. “Taymar, the doctor…”

  “I’ll make a trade,” Taymar said, still standing stone still.

  “I don’t usually make trades,” Sean answered, a little surprised by her offer, but not uninterested.

  “It’s not as if I’m asking for a shuttle ship,” she snapped. “I will let your telepath go in exchange for a cup of Daryan larwic tea.”

  Sean said nothing; he simply waited for the catch he knew was coming. He didn’t have to wait long.

  Taymar finally shifted her weight to one leg and jutted her jaw in his direction. “Out there. I promise to be a good little captive and not try to get away. All I want is some tea…and a waste room,” she added with a pained expression.

  Sean rubbed his beard and eyed the Arlele with renewed interest. Whatever she was up to, it wasn’t a cup of tea, but whatever it was, he couldn’t guess. She had to know he wasn’t going to just let her walk out of the brig. So what could she gain? “Will you let Dr. Lats examine you?” he asked, nodding toward the doctor.

  Her answer was clear before she spoke a word. She turned her chilly gaze on Lieutenant Lats. Her brow furled. Her lip curled, and when she spoke, her voice, though still dry and scratchy, dripped with contempt. “I don’t exactly like doctors, Captain Sean. Especially ones who lock me down on tables.”

  “Taymar, you were given an overdose of that drug. That’s why you’re so cold. Dr. Lats here needs to do a wee scan. Just to be sure your body’s managing the overdose. We can do it by force if it comes to it, but I’d rather be getting your cooperation.”