Blood of Denebria (Star Sojourner Book 4)

by Jean Kilczer

  Fifteen aliens manned the maze of controls in a circle. I saw no insignias nor any other signs to distinguish officers from crew. Perhaps, as with ant colonies, it was the queen who ran the show. If we ever managed to contact Alpha, the seat of the Worlds Government, I would relay that information. Kill the queens and you might abort the attacks on Denebria and other worlds.

  I chose an alien who sat at a central console within the circle. Usually a power tag is in the center, surrounded by his officers. I conjured a red coil of telepathic power within my mind and spun it like a spider forming a silk thread. I forced it to spin and grow. A tel probe is no fun. It burns out brain cells and I always end up with a headache. At the least. When it swelled into a small tornado, I threw it at him and probed.

  And was beaten back by a swarm of tel links. This was a communal mind! They descended like bees to sting my mind. I threw up mental shields as they tried to shred the coherence of my thoughts in a tsunami of deep probes.

  Uh oh. I backed toward the hull. Time to leave this tangled web. But my shields were forced down in a synchronized attack.

  Mind thief, one sent. What are you doing here?

  Intruder, another shouted within my mind. Intruder! Intruder!

  Invader of the homeship!

  I'm leaving, OK? I sent. I'm going now. Bug off.

  They conjured a mental curtain that blocked out the control room and the ship's hull, leaving me lost in a void without reference points. I tried to squeeze out of the spider web by moving toward an image I projected of the lifeboat. A tel force came through, stronger than the others. A thought in their native tongue plowed across my mind and left erratic furrows like spaces in my thoughts.

  Was that the queen?

  The curtain dropped. I was suddenly released, as though the web was ripped aside. I willed myself out of the ship and fled back to Sojourner, followed by a swarm of tel links that struck at me like bee stings until I entered our boat and my body.

  The sensations of living flesh grew around me in layers. A murmur of voices. “I think he's back,” Chancey said. I felt the pressure of the seat and my BioSuit and helmet against my body. The taste of air was stale as I drew in a long, shuddering breath. I opened my eyes. They ached from the sudden glare of light and I tried to rub them, but my fingers hit the helmet. Huff and Joe and Chancey were gathered around me.

  “Jules Terran,” Huff said, “is your mind with your body again?”

  I nodded.

  “You were out there a long time, Chancey said. “What happened, tag?”

  “Did you find out anything?” Joe asked.

  “They're BEMs, Joe,” I told him. “The Denebrian invaders are BEMs!”

  Joe straightened. “Are you certain of that? Nobody's heard from them for over a hundred years.”

  “They're back,” I said. “I've seen the photos of them on old cubes.”

  “How come the Denebrians never told Alpha that they're BEMs?” Chancey asked.

  “The Denebrians were never in contact with them,” Joe said. “They wouldn't know a BEM from an Altairian guzzler. They're a clannish race. They weren't interested in history beyond their own planet and the BEMs didn't attack Denebria in the Twelve-Year-War.

  “I'll bet Denebria was on their short list,” I said, “before the BEMs' defeat.”

  Huff drew back his lips and shook his head, a sign of fear among Vegans. “Is my homeworld Kresthaven also on their list of shorts? We are also clannish about our clans.”

  “I hope not, Huff,” I said.

  Chancey sat and stared out a viewport. “I thought they got kicked down the technological ladder after their defeat, Joe.”

  “They climbed back up,” I said. “Great Mind! I might have led them to us. Let's get the hell out of here!”

  Chancey swiveled his chair to face the instrument panel. “That's why they didn't destroy Sojourner.” He started the engines. “They know we're from Alpha.” He glanced at Joe. “They'd like to know why an Alpha military scout ship was heading for Denebria.”

  The clunk of metal clamping to the hull vibrated throughout the boat.

  “That's a tow line.” Joe stood up and stared at a monitor. “They've got us.”

  “Damn,” I said softly.

  “Listen to me,” Joe said. “All of you. Remember your cover. We came as consultants at the request of the Denebrians. We're not taking sides in this conflict. We're the avant garde of a peacekeeping force. You got that, Huff?”

  Huff nodded. “I am here to keep peace from becoming war.”

  “Joe,” I said, “there's just one problem with that.”

  “And that would be?” he asked grimly.

  “The BEMs possess a communal mind, and it's telepathic.”

  He sat down hard beside Chancey. “Then we'd damn well better all believe the same lie.”

  Chapter Two

  “Which one of you is the telepath?” a BEM asked us in stelspeak. His voice had a metallic ring. His sable pelt was streaked with gray, perhaps from age. A white scar ran along the right side of his mantle.

  Joe, Chancey, Huff and I stood before a curved platform in a BEM military outpost built of stones, somewhere in a Denebrian desert. It was a world as close to Earth in climate, grav, and air as I'd ever seen. During planetfall I'd watched lush green fields, forests, and the blue eye of an ocean swing past as we landed.

  “That would be me,” I said in the thick silence and bit my lip.

  He turned to his five companions and clucked. “Then you were the intruder aboard our ship?”

  I nodded.

  “What does that up and down gesture mean?” he asked.

  “It means yes,” I said.

  “State your reason for the intrusion into our home uninvited.”

  “You pretended to be from an Alpha outpost,” I told him. “We knew you weren't. We were curious. That's all.”

  “Are you curious as to your futures?”

  I nodded, then added, “Yes.”

  He slid across the platform and left a yellow slime trail. “So am I.” He said something to one of the five in BEMese.

  The other rose to two tentacles, wrapped the rest of them around his charcoal pelt, and stalked out of the chamber, his claws clicking on the stone floor.

  “What is the nature of your mission on this world?” the scarred BEM asked me.

  I glanced at Joe. “We're here at the request of the Denebrian government to act as consultants,” I said. “The Alliance is not taking sides in this conflict. It's out of their jurisdiction. Suppose you allow us to negotiate a peace treaty between your people and the Denebrians?”

  He scraped some crust from the rim of his left eye with the claw end of a tentacle. “The Denebrians will know peace and prosperity when we have consolidated their villages and cities under our benign rule. They will be better fed than they are now with their primitive farming methods, and they will experience the contentment of working for a higher good.”

  I tried a subliminal tel link and got an image of thousands of chained Denebrian slaves working under BEM overlords. I held down my thoughts, but one slipped through. You're good!

  He stared at me. Good is good, Terran, he sent. It is an absolute, like the speed of light.

  My friends don't know about your plans to conquer all of Denebria, I sent. Suppose you let them go?

  Why?

  A show of good faith to planet Alpha. Would your political leaders consider trade agreements with the Denebrians? They could use your high-tech products to—

  “Enough! He rose to his full seven-foot height and towered over me on the platform. “You must think we are fools,” he said aloud. “Why trade for that which you can take?”

  “I was hoping for honor,” I said. “And compassion.”

  We have both, he sent. That is why if Bountiful the Profuse decides to dine on you, we will kill you first, and quickly, with compassion, and a ritual to honor your passing.

  Through her gut! I sent the thought.
<
br />   He clucked and his rounded shoulders shook. Maintain your sense of humor, Terran. It will serve you well, and eventually serve Bountiful the Profuse well. With your high-quality protein, she will produce many more young.

  For your war machine? I sent.

  For The Good! He said something to a BEM who waited behind him, turned and stalked out of the room.

  We were taken to a small room, a food storage shed, I thought, abandoned and turned into a cell as the BEMs advanced into Denebrian territory.

  “Joe!” I grabbed his arm when the BEM guards closed and locked the door. My throat ached from tightness. “I've got to tell you something!”

  He put a finger to his lips to quiet me. “You're shaking like a leaf,” he said. “Sit down.” He walked into the bathroom. The BEMs must have added the closed bathroom with a sink, a toilet, and a shower. I couldn't help thinking that Bountiful the Profuse liked her meat clean.

  “Bugs.” Chancey mouthed the word. He turned and peered out the high, barred window.

  Huff sat down next to me on a blanket laid out on the stone floor. His thick warm fur was a comfort. I leaned against him and patted his shoulder. “You're always there for me, Huff.”

  “And looking before and after you. We are friends, Jules Terran.”

  “Yes.” But for how long more? I wondered. I shivered, not only from the cold, and zippered my jacket. The room held dampness in its wet, crumbling walls. I watched a diminutive native bug scurry across the floor and disappear into a crack in the stained cement wall. Too bad we couldn't leave as easily.

  Joe came out of the bathroom with his hands empty.

  “No translator, boss?” Chancey said.

  Joe shook his head. “Guess they weren't expecting Terrans. Do you see anything interesting out there?”

  “There's a couple of BEM military land vehicles,” Chancey told him. “They're parked next to an installation that could be an ammo dump.”

  “Joe!” I said.

  “OK, Jules. Now what is it?”

  “We're on the menu.” I studied his face for some reaction. There was no change in expression, but the lines around his mouth seemed to deepen as I watched.

  “I was afraid of that.” He sat down stiffly, his legs stretched out, his hands clasped in his lap. “During the Twelve-Year-War, the BEMs were known to drag away the bodies of dead enemies. There was a rumor.” He looked up. “A rumor that they ate the dead.”

  Chancey came and squatted beside us.

  “Christ and Buddha,” I said, “didn't they ever hear of mock meat? They can get all the prime cuts they want by just cloning an animal's choice parts without even hurting the animal. Why the hell would they –”

  “For them choice is the whole animal,” Joe said. “Eyes, brains, bones.”

  I attempted a laugh that came out a croak. “I feel like Hansel.” I tried to stop shaking, but I just shook worse as I stared at the locked iron door. “The BEM I linked with said they'd kill us quickly. I wonder when?”

  “Are you telling me they're cannibals?” Chancey asked.

  “Not exactly,” I said. “Cannibals eat their own kind.”

  Huff sat back on his haunches. “It is against the Laws of the Ten Gods to eat people. The civilized being should fear his own gods.”

  “I don't think they have any, Huff,” I said.

  Joe exhaled a breath and leaned back against the wall. “Don't think about it. Priority one is an escape plan.”

  “I'm all for that,” I said. “ASAP! You have any ideas?”

  “Can you isolate the guards' minds from the rest of the hive,” Joe asked, “and influence them without alerting the others?”

  “I can try. But to tell you the truth, they're like one mind. I think that's why their own lives mean nothing to them.” I bit my lip. “I think they believe they'll live on in the others.”

  The iron door clanged open. I jumped and caught my breath. Two BEMs entered with covered trays. Supper or killing weapons? I stood up.

  “Here's something you Terrans like,” one said and uncovered a tray with a flourish. A birthday cake with pink cream flowers sat on a platter.

  “Is that our supper?” I asked.

  Chancey smirked. “Where's the saying?”

  “Our brother chef was challenged to concoct this Terran delight. Do you also need a saying to eat?”

  “Forget it. Chancey went back to the window.

  The BEM uncovered the second tray. Chunks of pure fat with eyeballs and bones protruding. I saw Huff lick his lips.

  “My compliments to the chef,” I muttered as the BEM unwrapped four forks and knives. “What's for dessert?”

  “You desire dessert?” one asked.

  “No. Just curious about what's on the menu.”

  “We are also curious.” He spread out the utensils and walked over to me on two tentacles. I backed a step. Huff came to stand between us. The BEM walked around him. “Take off your…” he waved a tentacle at my jacket. “Whatever that is.”

  I glanced at Joe and took it off.

  “Now the loose black covering,” he ordered.

  I took off my turtleneck sweater. “Checking the livestock?” I asked.

  “A cursory inspection.”

  I shivered as he unraveled a tentacle and slid it across my bare chest and stomach. The sharp claws scraped. He turned to the other BEM and said something in BEMese, but I caught the mental image. Gristle.

  “Return them to your body.” He walked to the door. “After you have all consumed the food, our Older Brother wants us to bring him the tall skinny Terran with the yellow top, the pink flesh, and the blue irises.”

  Chancey shrugged. “I don't think he means me, tag. Sorry.”

  “I'll go in your stead, Jules,” Huff said. “I'll tell him your stomach pains you from the high glucose food.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “Huff, you're speaking in stel. They can understand you.”

  The two BEMs clucked to each other as they went out the door and locked it behind them.

  My stomach didn't ache. It was clenched. I put on the sweater and jacket and thought of the shopping trip in Santa Fe, Earth, with Shannon. It was comforting to recall those easy days back on Earth. She knew my taste in clothes and had picked out the black knitted sweater, the black pants and the blue jacket to replace my torn sweater, jacket, and pants. She'd bundled the old clothes and shoved them into a pail in front of the store as we left.

  “I was thinkin' to send them to your Smithsonian, lad,” she'd said, “but to tell ya the truth, I'm afraid they'd just send them back to ya with a note sayin' t'would be better if ya just burn them.”

  She had put her arms around my waist and smiled. “Ye be lookin' like a Viking god in ye new clothes, with yer blonde tousled hair and them Irish blue eyes.”

  “Irish?” I'd said. “Well, maybe.” I'd been an orphan and didn't know my heritage.

  “The girls canna keep their eyes off ye. But yer mine.” She'd pinched my backside. “An' don't ye forget it!”

  But it wasn't to be.

  Chancey picked up a knife. “I guess they got the ingredients from our lifeboat sous chef.” He scraped off the whipped cream and flowers on the cake, cut a slice and extended it. “Joe?”

  Joe took the crumbly piece.

  “Jules?” Chancey extended a piece to me.

  I shook my head.

  Huff sat on his haunches with his plate between his spread hind legs and ate the fish eyes first.

  I stared at the bathroom door and covered my churning stomach with a hand.

  “The BEM probably just wants to talk to you, kid,” Joe said to me. “Be careful what you project telepathically. He might try to probe for information on Alpha's intentions.”

  “You seem pale.” Huff studied me as he chewed a bone. “Are you right all through?”

  “I guess I'd be righter, Huff, if we were on the other side of these walls.” I thought about Joe's escape plan, then muffled the thought as I felt pressur
e against my right temple. I might be getting paranoid, or they might be tuning in to my mind.

  * * *

  “What is that?” I asked the BEM and nodded at headgear attached by wires to a whirring panel of blinking lights and a large wall screen. This was the BEM who had first interrogated us. I knew him by his gray-streaked pelt and the white scar across his mantle.

  “Simply put,” he said, “it magnetically scans the brain and projects memories onto the screen.”

  “In search of what?” I asked as two BEMs wrapped tentacles around my arms and led me to the chair by the panel. I wanted to slow my breathing, but my body wouldn't oblige.

  “In search of the regions of the brain where memories are encoded,” the scarred BEM told me as the other two pushed me into the metal chair and clamped my wrists and ankles to it. The larger one, with a speckled brown and tan pelt, and rough hands, closed a clamp around my chest. I winced as he lowered the headgear over my head.

  “This will not hurt,” the scarred BEM told me and flipped a switch. Dials blinked on and glowed yellow. The dark screen hummed and turned bright blue. “We're simply going to activate some encoded memories.” He glanced at the screen. “Light them up, so to speak.”

  “Look, I came along on this ride,” I told him, “because of my tel powers. Alpha asked me to collect some data. That's all. If you're searching for information on the government's military plans, you've got the wrong team. None of us was privy to Alliance plans or operations.” Not exactly true, but sometimes outrage can substitute for truth.

  He stood facing the screen. “You are on planet Alpha.” He stroked his blubbery lips with a clawed tentacle, “being briefed by your commander.”

  No, I'm not! I thought and raised mind shields. I'm right here with ruthless BEMs who eat their slain enemy. I gritted my teeth as killer bees rose from their hive and attacked my mind. I forced myself to concentrate through the mental stings and imaged a red coil spinning. Swelling. I grew it to a tsunami force of tel power born out of fear and anger, and threw it at the bees. Sting this, you fuckers! I sent as it ripped apart fragile wings and tore striped bodies.