by Candace Sams
“I was just testing that vial. The label is gone, but it looks like the stock that was in the ship’s dispensary before D’uhr took it,” Myranda stated. “The men need it badly, Lyra. They were hit hard with shrapnel.”
“I’ve been down that road a couple of times,” Lyra commiserated. “I know the pain.”
“Dirt and metal fragments did their job. We have a lot who’re suffering. The important thing is the most injured here have a chance … thanks to you. The contents of that vial were concentrated so I think there’ll be enough to go around. How did you get your hands on it, anyway?” Myranda asked. “I assumed someone stole it from D’uhr. But that’s not likely, is it?”
“No.” Lyra quickly explained her and Soldar’s sex duo charade. “D’uhr was so impressed by our act that he invited us to his quarters. He’s absolutely besotted with my partner and didn’t even take much notice of me.”
“I know he didn’t give that vial out of the kindness of his heart,” Myranda quipped.
Lyra winced and made a face. “I … implied … I had a nasty case of VD that was causing me discomfort. I hoped he’d tell his men and they’d stay clear of me.” She lifted one hand in resignation. “It’s not as though a Condorian would care, but it was the only thing I could think of at the time.”
“Talk about luck,” Myranda muttered as her eyes grew wide in shock.
“Not really. D’uhr did it as a favor to my partner. Like I said, the admiral took one look at the guy and drooled all over himself. That vial was a sort of a bribe to leave the two of them alone.”
Myranda stood there with a stupefied look on her face, then blinked and finally closed her gaping mouth. “You need to warn your friend, Lyra. Haven’t either of you seen the unusual markings on the Condorians? I understand you haven’t been here long, but surely you’ve seen what I’m talking about.”
“Markings?”
“There’s some kind of disease spreading through the Condorian ranks. So far, it hasn’t affected the prostitutes but that doesn’t mean it won’t, sooner or later.”
“And the good news just keeps coming,” Lyra uttered as she put her hands on her hips in disgust.
“Some weeks ago, several of D’uhr’s officers came to me, begging me to help them. And then D’uhr got a case of this strange disease, or so I’ve been told by Aigean’s staff.” Myranda snorted in derision.
“I couldn’t wish whatever it on a more deserving race,” Lyra shot back.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. The stuff seems to have been brought aboard by new officers who’re sleeping with one another. Aigean provides protection but the damned Condorians won’t use it.”
Lyra snapped her fingers. “Wait a minute. I did see something. The light in D’uhr’s quarters was frickin’ low, but there was this kind of red spot on the back of his hand. It had dark rings around it. Is that what you’re talking about?”
Myranda nodded. “What you’ve described are the same symptoms all the Condorians are displaying. I hear D’uhr won’t be seen outside the ship or his quarters because it’s spreading.”
“I hate to bring this up but … the Condorians haven’t tried anything with you, have they?” Lyra carefully asked.
“Not yet. I’m the only med-tech they’ve got since D’uhr’s was killed in battle. And though I’ve made it clear that they won’t get help if I’m molested, that small threat won’t last if they really want to kick in the hatch and do what they please. I think Aigean keeps feeding the Condorians booze and pills so they’ll be inclined to just lie around a lot and leave at least some of her people alone. So far, it’s working.” Myranda paused. “I won’t ever admit it to D’uhr, but I know very little about Condorian physiology. It may be that this crud is making him and his men intolerant to light. Other symptoms include fever and loss of mental acuity. But then that’s hard to quantify since they’re drinking, taking hallucinogens, and were never that sharp to begin with.”
“But it’s still not circulating among Aigean’s people … right?” Lyra asked.
“No,” Myranda reiterated. “But D’uhr can confiscate all the antibiotics he can get his thieving hands on. Though he’s convinced himself otherwise, it’s not going to do him any good.”
Lyra couldn’t help the sinister smile that spread across her face. “It’s that bad? Could the bastard die?”
Myranda snickered. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s possible for it to disappear as quickly as it appeared. I only mentioned it in case you guys wanted to be careful. Assuming being careful is even possible when talking about Condorians.”
Lyra was torn between going back to warn Sol, or let the situation stand. If she showed up in D’uhr’s quarters again, the admiral would have her head cut off.
It didn’t make her final decision easier knowing she’d be required to have sex with a man who was sleeping with an infected Condorian. But she had to acknowledge that her concerns over any such issue really were moot. She figured their survival came down to a matter of hours or even minutes. D’uhr would soon discover what they’d done, if he hadn’t already.
After sending that message and having the surviving allied fighters smuggled aboard, everyone would be butchered. D’uhr would be so enraged that the Venus would be expendable. Aigean’s manipulating wouldn’t change anything.
For that reason, and because Soldar had made up his mind long before she’d run into that canyon, Lyra decided she couldn’t help him. But she might be able to comfort the injured before they were discovered and slaughtered. For the time they had left, the hidden wounded could at least have fresh water and food.
“Would it be possible to see the survivors?” she asked. “Maybe I could help. I’m sure you’ve been run off your feet.”
“And your partner? Won’t he worry about you?”
“He was prepared to die to get information.” She shook her head. “My partner made his bed, no pun intended. All we can do is act in the moment.”
Myranda lifted one hand and gestured for Lyra to follow. “Come with me. If you ever want to slip in and check on the wounded, I’ll find some excuse for you to be in this part of the ship. Just in case D’uhr’s men see you wandering. But pick times very late at night. When they’ve been partying and are in beds with their sex toys.”
“I’ll be careful,” Lyra promised. “The man I came in here with can do his thing. I’ll do mine.”
She followed Myranda into the recesses of the large space. Several men lay on pillow beds. Though they were a breath away from being discovered, it still felt good to know those soft mattresses were occupied by soldiers who deserved them.
As she walked behind Myranda and listened to her recite lists of their injuries, she noted that all of the fighters looked like they were from Earth. They’d probably been in her same division, now whittled down to almost nothing.
The injured here seemed very well cared for. Their bedclothes and bandages were clean even if they were remnants of sheets or old clothing. At least their bodies were free of the incessant red dust from outside.
When they got to the very back of the room, Myranda’s posture stiffened. She passed her hand over the illuminating wall unit and the lights came up if only just a little. She turned and concern was etched into her features. “I hid this man as far as I could from the hatch. Come closer and look at his face,” Myranda instructed.
When the med-tech moved aside, Lyra scooted closer to the bed. That’s when she saw what concerned her new friend so much.
As she looked down at this large, unconscious fighter, she saw the elongated, black lightning-like mark of a Craetorian warrior. It trailed down this man’s left cheek, just as Soldar’s did. His long, golden mane spread out over the bedding like a fan.
“The mark can be removed with a laser scalpel,” Myranda whispered, “but not until he’s better and I have t
ime to do the job. It’s a precision-intensive process because it goes deep into his tissue.” Myranda bent to arrange the sheets around her patient’s shoulders.
“What about makeup?”
“Gentis tried it but it just didn’t look right. He’d have to walk around with it on all day, and have someone help him put it on. And then there’s his size, his bronze-colored skin, and musculature to consider. So you see … the mark is only part of the problem. I don’t know what race we could call him and still hide where he’s really from.”
Lyra stood there staring down at the injured man. Suspicion cemented her to the spot.
Something was wrong. She could feel it down to the soles of her feet. She recalled Soldar saying something about not having had the time to have his cheek mark removed. He’d said he’d been picked for the mission on very short notice, insisting the Condorians would accept him as is. But why would anyone at HQ choose an undercover operative whose facial markings, size, and coloring would put the mission at risk? As low as the allies were on fighters and if the mission could be deemed worthy at all, then Allied Command should have made time to bring in a covert agent who could pass himself off as a neutral citizen — exactly as she and Myranda were pretending to be.
Even Myranda realized this injured man’s appearance would get him killed. That was why the med-tech was considering options to disguise him.
Lyra fully believed the rumors she’d heard. The same ones she’d never mentioned to Soldar.
Craetorian neutrals don’t exist.
For years, Earth citizens had heard about Craetorians being the first to charge the enemy. In fact, it was widely known that Soldar’s people demanded key positions in every attack. There’d been verified instances of their warriors throwing themselves on compound grenades to save fighters not even in their ranks. The more she thought about all the stories that even her own officers corroborated, the more suspicious she became.
Soldar had argued so convincingly. Surely, there must be neutrals among his people. But Myranda’s confirmation of the entire allied opinion was enough to cause great disquiet.
For starters, how could the Condorians know with such certainty Soldar was among those neutral ranks? She and Sol had walked onto the Venus with such ease. The guards let them pass with almost no concern. Even Aigean’s plotting should not have gained them such informal access. They should have been hauled before D’uhr in an instant. And when they’d finally met the enemy admiral, D’uhr only vaguely questioned their backgrounds.
Lyra shook her head and raised one brow in anger. She’d been so grateful for her safety that she hadn’t fully questioned the details. Now, however, things were beginning to sink in. Somebody was lying about something. Where were these so-called neutral Craetorians that no one but the enemy had ever heard of?
“I think it’s best to laser the mark off whether he likes it or not,” Myranda confirmed with a nod of her head.
“He still looks exactly like what he is. Aigean won’t be able to explain another Craetorian aboard,” Lyra softly muttered.
“Another one?”
“I’m speaking of the man who’s undercover with me … the Colonel!” Lyra said.
Myranda blinked. “I-I don’t understand.”
Lyra faced the other woman squarely. “The man who’s undercover with me is a Craetorian. He didn’t hide his race at all.”
“Lyra, that can’t be.”
“Don’t tell me … no one told you about it, right?”
“I was just told there were two agents aboard. I assumed they were Earth special ops, posing as neutrals from worlds the Condorians haven’t enslaved.” Myranda shrugged. “Nobody told me differently.”
“So you and I both agree that a neutral Craetorian is about as likely as ocean-front property in Olde Arizona?”
“Honey … there’s no such thing as a neutral Craetorian.”
“According to the man who picked me up in the desert and recruited me for this mission, there are. In fact, that’s his cover.”
“Or so he says!” Myranda shot back as she gripped Lyra’s shoulders. “Lyra … you need to be very, very careful. Whoever this man is, he may have some connection to the Condorians you don’t know about. I’m not saying he’s with them. But something’s not kosher.”
“I’m beginning to get that picture,” Lyra heatedly remarked. “Though the man I came in here with knows about the injured, I don’t think he needs to find out one of them is Craetorian. How could he or anyone else explain two on this ship?”
They both gazed down at the Craetorian on the bed. A beeping noise sounded in another part of the huge space, making them both jump.
“God … that’ll be the test sample I’m processing,” Myranda breathlessly explained. “If the stuff in your vial is still good, I’ll give the first dose to this Craetorian. The sooner he’s better, the sooner I can get that mark off his face and try to hide his big bronze ass. Assuming that’s possible.”
Lyra watched the other woman leave, but stayed by the bed in this dim area of what was probably old servants’ quarters. Minutes went by and she considered not only the unconscious Craetorian but Soldar and the odd game he and D’uhr were playing.
A low moan prompted her to sit on the side of the downed Craetorian’s bed and lean closer. In that split second, before she could utter a single word, his right arm shot from underneath the covers and clenched around her throat. Both her hands came up in an automatic gesture of defense. She ineffectively pulled at his massive wrist.
Her attacker wrestled himself into a sitting position despite the bandaging covering a laser-sealed, raw wound to his abdomen. Jagged parts of that seal were visible at the edges of the white gauze around his mid-section.
As badly injured as he was, the man’s strong grip kept her from crying out. His silvery gaze wandered over her features, then to the armband on her left bicep. He shook her and snarled.
For some odd reason, she thought of Soldar. This stranger’s long blond hair sifted loose and now lay around his shoulders. Just as her so-called partner’s often did.
“I wasn’t sure if I dreamed Earth English,” he angrily asserted as he used that dialect. “Do you understand me?”
She barely managed a nod as she tried to pull his hands free.
“Where did you get that armband, woman? There’re only two ways its owner would give it up. The first is if you’re a Craetorian’s mate. The second is if the original owner died in battle and had it cut from his corpse.” He leaned closer to her. “If that latter of those options is the case, I promise I’ll kill the Condorian responsible. And I’ll see fit punishment comes to you for accepting looted property, taken from a dead hero. Now … which is it?” He finally let her throat go, but grabbed the front of her garment so she couldn’t run.
Lyra took a moment to catch her breath and rub her injured neck. “What’s it to you?” she countered as she watched him stare back with harsh, suspicious anger in his gaze.
“That armband belongs to the royal house of Ky’Nar. It would not be gifted to a common whore. And while I recognize I’d be dead were you not sympathetic, I know this is a pleasure vessel that must be behind enemy lines.” He glanced around him while his eyes took on a wild, glazed expression. “The look of such places is not beyond my experience, but no injured soldier would be brought to such an abode if there was no emergency.” He grabbed her again by her forearms. “Start talking, or nothing you’ve done to save my life will save yours. Not if you took that band from a Condorian as payment for favors.”
She tossed her head and glanced down at the band. “Do you really think a Condorian would give this away? It would be considered a trophy, wouldn’t it?”
“Tell me, woman!”
At that moment, something Soldar said filtered into Lyra’s heavily tested brain. She gazed at his face
for a long time and understood why everything about him was so familiar. “Christ almighty! You’re his brother … the one who’s supposed to be missing. And what the hell do you mean by ‘the Royal House of Ky’Nar’?”
Silence permeated the space.
Finally, the man spoke quickly, but never stopped to even breathe. “It seems I must trust you. In case I am mistaken, I know nothing you can use to your advantage. Torture would do no good.”
“You’re being hidden from the Condorians who control this vessel. You’d be wise to keep your voice down.”
He considered her for a long moment. She assumed he believed her as he finally responded more calmly.
“My name is Cordis Nar. I was separated from my Craetorian brethren months ago during a fight on Rimbor Alta. I took up fighting with an Earth unit since orders to maintain communication silence stranded me with them,” he explained. “We’ve been fighting on a star-class vessel, deep in enemy territory. Our last orders were to engage the enemy on the surface of an old refueling station.”
“Yeah. That’d be Reisen Four which is where this ship has landed.” Lyra ran her hands through her hair and tried to comprehend this coincidence. “God, he thinks you’re dead!”
Cordis gazed at her armband, then back at her face. “I fear I’ve made a grave mistake. Is the person you speak of my brother? Is he the one who thinks I’m dead?”
She slowly nodded.
“Then he is alive,” Cordis responded as he smiled. “And you are no whore.”
“I’ve probably been called worse,” she somberly joked. “Soldar put this band on me. He’s on this vessel pretending to be a male prostitute. I’m his partner.”
“And you did say the Condorians control this ship?” he asked.
She nodded. “You need to stay hidden. A lot of lives depend upon you not being found. Do you understand?”
“I will cooperate.”
“Good. My name is Lyra Markham, Master Sergeant from Earth … ”
The stress amassed over the last few days was taking its toll. She shut her mouth and tried to gather her thoughts. This mission was one surprise after another. She heartily wished for a battle where she knew who the enemy really was. This subterfuge would kill her long before the enemy did.
