Being of the Field

by Traci Harding

Aurora gave a steady nod, affirming that she realised the urgency, and Lucian joined Zeven for a joyride that he suspected would be anything but.

  ‘Sorry I had to drop your name,’ Zeven apologised as Lucian slid into the passenger seat alongside his pilot. ‘I couldn’t find anywhere else in this entire arena where we could have a private chat.’

  ‘Sure,’ Lucian said, even though he thought it more likely that Starman just wanted a test drive, ‘but we’d best make this snappy, as I believe I have Valoureans after me.’

  Zeven looked to the captain with a grin of envy. ‘Aren’t you the lucky one…’ He hit the ignition switch and their craft roared into life. ‘I’ve got the Sermetican Secret Service on my arse.’

  ‘They’re here?’ Lucian’s jaw dropped, as the DS-700 rose into the air.

  ‘And we’re outta here.’ Zeven hit the gas and shot them into orbit, through an open section in the stadium roof.

  It was difficult to hold a serious discussion while Starman was at the helm of the newest sportscraft—as dire as their situation was, he was having the ride of his life! Still, he did manage to recount Kalayna’s activities and encounters to the captain.

  ‘So it’s true then. Anselm believes Taren is his daughter.’ Lucian had hoped that the rumour was just that.

  ‘And it sounds as though he’ll go to great lengths to get her back,’ Starman confirmed.

  ‘So why is the Phemorian queen so eager to meet with Taren? Do you think she knows she’s Anselm’s daughter? Perhaps they intend to use Taren for political blackmail,’ Lucian mused, his imagination in overdrive. ‘What have I got myself into with this woman?’

  ‘I’m happy to take her off your hands,’ Starman offered.

  ‘It seems everyone is,’ Lucian chided. ‘How could I have allowed her to walk into such an obvious trap!’

  ‘Yeah, right, like you could have stopped her!’ Starman gave the captain a wake-up call. ‘Not even I have a hope of stopping Taren Lennox once she’s set her mind on something. I mean…shit…the woman can change the future. How the hell are you going to control that?’

  ‘What hope do we mere physical beings have?’ Lucian had never felt so powerless and insignificant before, and he didn’t like it very much.

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ Zeven assured the captain, who he had the utmost respect for. ‘I was just trying to make you feel better about giving Taren over to the Phemorians.’

  ‘Well, you failed miserably,’ Lucian retorted, knowing that Zeven wasn’t being insulting on purpose. The pilot just had a knack for putting his foot in his mouth.

  ‘I vote we grab the crew, get back to AMIE, I zap myself over to Taren, and bring her back into our fold. Then I zap the whole ship back to the Oceane system, where no motherfucker is looking for us!’

  ‘That’s a lot of zapping, Zeven,’ the captain said, thinking it was a fine plan. ‘Are you sure you’re up to it?’

  ‘I’m fuelled,’ Zeven assured him, as he aimed their speeding vessel towards the arena they’d started from.

  ‘Good,’ Lucian was glad to hear it, ‘as we need to break Swithin out of prison too.’

  Zeven considered what motive the captain might have for such a move. ‘I guess he did prove right about the Phemorians. Maybe he is on our side after all.’

  ‘Make no mistake…’ Lucian warned. ‘Swithin is on Swithin’s side, which is why it pays to have him with you. He has miraculous survival instincts.’

  ‘What about Kalayna?’ Zeven broached the subject of their latest double agent. Despite Kalayna’s past shortcomings he still cared for her deeply, as did Aurora.

  Lucian could tell by Zeven’s sheepish tone that he still wanted her on the crew. ‘I didn’t dismiss Taren for her unknowing involvement with the secret service. I shall hardly abandon Kalayna for the same.’

  ‘And she’s a damn fine tech,’ Zeven added, happy with the captain’s decision, as he hit the brakes and brought the DS-700 down to a perfect landing. ‘Sounds like we have a plan.’

  They both nodded in agreement.

  No sooner had they disembarked, than their plan fell apart. Kalayna and Aurora were not where they had left them.

  Lucian queried the salesman about the girls.

  ‘They left with a tall cloaked fellow,’ he advised, ‘just after you took off.’

  ‘This is not good.’ Zeven headed out into the crowd, with Lucian hot on his heels.

  ‘But what did you think of my spacecraft?’ the salesman yelled after them, unhappy at witnessing his most promising sale rushing away from him.

  ‘We’ll get back to you,’ Lucian assured him, watching Starman spin around in circles as he looked for the girls.

  ‘Anselm has them,’ Zeven quietly uttered in an aside to Lucian and they stopped dead as they each felt a weapon head boring into their neck. Although they did not turn, they felt themselves surrounded by several large persons.

  ‘Just keep walking towards the exit up ahead. And if you,’ one of the agents pressed the weapon into Zeven’s back, ‘try any heroic stunts you’ll never see any of AMIE’s crew again.’

  Outside, Lucian and Zeven were shoved into a transporter, blindfolded, bound and sped to an unknown destination.

  They were soon guided into a building—which sounded like a dance club—were led down several flights of stairs, taken further down in a lift, and led through a complex abuzz with technology and the reserved chatter of people working.

  When they passed into a quiet corridor Lucian noticed that it sounded like their party had shrunk.

  Finally, the captain was cast into a room, but only his body hit the floor; Starman had been taken elsewhere.

  ‘Captain!’ Aurora rushed to unbind him and remove his blindfold.

  ‘Where is Zeven?’ Kalayna asked as she gave a helping hand.

  ‘He’s here somewhere.’ Lucian pulled himself up to sitting, frustrated by this whole mess.

  ‘They’ll brainwash him, just like they did me!’ Kalayna was fretting because of what she had told Anselm about the pilot having PK.

  ‘Yeah, good luck with that. Zeven can hold his own. It’s us I’m worried about.’ Lucian had never before wished he wielded a Power, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that to survive in Taren’s world it was a prerequisite.

  Ayliscia was glad Ringbalin had returned to the ship to tend his greenhouse, because she had been summoned to report to Jalila Lamus, who could not tolerate men at any price. The viceroy would not be pleased if she discovered how deeply Ayliscia had fallen in love with AMIE’s botanist. She must do her utmost to put him from her mind, for Jalila was an excellent telepath, if not the best Phemoria had to offer. As long as Ayliscia did not think of her love for Ringbalin in Jalila’s presence, Jalila would not detect it.

  Ayliscia was led into the viceroy’s office by several Valoureans, who departed at Jalila’s word. ‘Congratulations, Dr Portus. Her majesty is very pleased with your work. Mission accomplished.’

  ‘So Dr Lennox was the person her majesty was seeking?’

  ‘That is no longer your affair,’ Jalila said, putting the doctor back in her place very abruptly.

  ‘Is my work with AMIE to continue?’ Ayliscia stuck to the pertinent questions.

  ‘That depends…’ Jalila motioned for Ayliscia to take a seat, and she did so. ‘Our majesty will fund AMIE’s research provided you can convince Captain Gervaise to leave this planet without Dr Lennox and never again attempt to contact her.’

  Ayliscia felt a dagger plunge into her own heart at the very thought of being given the option herself. ‘But they are—’

  ‘If you say “in love” I will shoot you myself!’ Jalila snarled. ‘You are beautiful, you are an agent of Phemoria. Our majesty demands that you persuade the captain to this course.’

  ‘And if I fail?’ Ayliscia questioned, needing to learn what options were on the table.

  ‘AMIE and her crew will cease to exist,’ Jalila informed her with a sly smile. ‘Lucian Ge
rvaise will be severed from Dr Lennox’s life for good, one way or another.’

  ‘I understand.’ Ayliscia rose to leave, hoping the meeting was at an end.

  ‘You are dismissed,’ Jalila said with a shooing gesture. As Ayliscia exited the office, the viceroy waved in several of her Valoureans and the door again closed.

  ‘Follow her, kill her,’ Jalila instructed her task force quietly. ‘The Phemoray have foretold that she will betray us for her lover, the botanist. They command his death also.’

  The guards nodded and left to complete their mission, closing the door behind them.

  The uncaring smile fell from Jalila’s face. She despised her position at times. She needed to feel some semblance of real emotion to dispel the chill in her heart; she needed satisfaction right away. Her lover had made a rare visit to Phemoria and was awaiting her in their secret meeting place, the door to which was hidden by an ornate screen behind her desk.

  She hurried down the stairway of the secret passage, her expectation building, and she was pleased to find her lover already naked in the bed.

  ‘Jalila, my goddess. I thought you’d never get here.’

  ‘Khalid,’ she gasped, breathless at the thought of mounting him.

  ‘Look what you left behind this morning.’ He held up the amulet he’d given her with a scolding expression.

  Jalila gasped when she realised she was not wearing it.

  ‘A slip-up like that could expose us to those bloody witches.’

  Khalid slipped the amulet’s chain around her neck as Jalila slithered onto the bed alongside him.

  ‘I’ll never take it off again,’ Jalila assured him, drawing him into a kiss.

  Ayliscia was frantic.

  She had focused her remote sight upon Jalila’s office when she saw the guards enter and perceived the viceroy ordering her death, and then Ringbalin’s. The upset nearly broke her concentration, but Ayliscia continued to observe Jalila as, curiously, the viceroy left her office via a secret door and rushed down a staircase into the arms of her lover. The shock had Ayliscia gasping, ‘She is a traitor!’

  All she could think about was getting to Ringbalin before the Valoureans did and she stole a transport to accomplish her goal. She could call Ringbalin, but she knew her communicator was monitored. As there was no speed limit on the freeway to the spaceport, Ayliscia took advantage and drove like a maniac.

  At best, the Valoureans would only be minutes behind her. Ayliscia considered locking the access door to AMIE, but she feared the queen’s soldiers would destroy the vital exterior entry hatch, and all hope of escape would be lost to AMIE. Her only advantage was that she knew the layout of the ship better than those who pursued her. Ayliscia bolted directly to Module C hoping to hide her lover until she had dealt with the task force sent to kill them.

  ‘This is a pleasant surprise,’ Ringbalin said as Ayliscia entered, but then he saw how distressed she was. ‘What has happened?’

  ‘Come!’ She grabbed his arm and began to run with him.

  Ringbalin heard a blast and Ayliscia hit the ground with a huge bloodied mark on her back.

  ‘No!’ he protested and, not caring to even look to see who’d fired the shot, he dropped to the ground beside her. ‘Ayliscia?’

  ‘Balin, my love…run,’ she uttered weakly.

  ‘Never,’ he declared and breathed a sigh of relief…as long as Ayliscia still drew breath, he had some chance of saving her. ‘Hold still,’ he instructed, laying his hands upon her wound.

  He summoned to him the vital force that was the lifeblood of the natural world, planning to channel this flow through his hands into Ayliscia to repair her damage, just as he might with a wounded plant. But he couldn’t block the sound of the soldiers’ boots stomping towards him and under such duress it was difficult to retain enough goodwill and focus for his intention to have the necessary effect.

  ‘She’s dead, weed boy,’ one of the guards commented, as she and another Valourean dragged him away from Ayliscia and onto his feet.

  ‘No, I can heal her,’ he insisted, resisting their restraint to no avail. The Valoureans held him with only one arm each, and in their free hands were their weapons. The two guards aimed at his lover’s head and fired.

  ‘Heal that,’ one of them scoffed.

  Ringbalin’s world slipped into slow motion as he stared, utterly devastated, at his love bleeding a river all over the floor of his greenhouse. Never before had he witnessed anything that enraged him senseless like this and Ringbalin permitted his horror and anger to fully bombard him. He gripped tightly to the arms of both his captors and let his agony burst forth in a long, all-embracing scream. He screamed and screamed, completely oblivious to anything but the pain coursing through his body, his hate, his want to retaliate—it consumed him to the point that he was unaware of himself at all. His emotion spent, he was aware only of a cold blackness.

  Everywhere black.

  Leal and Kassa had wisely accommodated themselves away from the rest of the crew; it was their intention not to be found easily.

  In a little cabin in the mountains, miles above the city, the couple slumbered, blissfully unaware that their crewmates were in peril.

  Kassa. Kassa Madri!

  Kassa stirred to her name being called, but did not awaken.

  Kassa!

  ‘What?’ she mumbled, in her mind’s eye realising she was speaking with Dr Portus.

  Get back to AMIE. Her crew are in grave danger.

  A vision of Dr Portus and Ringbalin lying in a pool of blood in Module C sent horror coursing through Kassa’s veins.

  Wake up! Ayliscia’s face filled Kassa’s vision to demand.

  Kassa awoke with a start, gasping in distress and covered in the sweat of her panic. She looked aside and was not surprised to find Leal sitting up with a stunned expression.

  ‘Let’s move,’ he prompted, and they both sped into action, throwing on their clothes, shoving their few essential possessions in their bags as they ran out the door.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Kassa appealed, punching up Balin’s number on her communicator. ‘Why would anyone want to hurt Balin?’

  ‘The love interest of a Phemorian spy?’ Leal felt it was easy enough to figure out.

  Kassa’s mind was racing with questions, but there was no point in airing them to Leal. He was as much in the dark as she was. ‘There’s no answer.’

  ‘Try the captain,’ Leal suggested, but everyone’s communicator returned a ‘service out of order’ message.

  ‘So we’re not just imagining things,’ Kassa stated, more fearful now.

  ‘Something’s definitely not right.’ Leal felt sure that they hadn’t dragged themselves away from their private paradise for some fictitious nightmare they’d shared and mistaken for a psychic vision.

  At the spaceport the atmosphere was almost too serene. There was no one in the terminal to check their pass. They just walked right on in. ‘Where the hell is security?’ Leal mumbled, annoyed. ‘Even at this hour of the night there should be someone here. Any damn pilot could walk straight in here and—’

  Kassa placed a finger to his lips as she heard someone coming down the interior corridor towards the hatch, and they both stood off to the side, pressed flat to their vessel.

  Out of the hatchway stumbled the security guard, who made a beeline to the closest bin to throw up.

  Leal and Kassa quietly snuck in the door and headed quickly to Module C. As they ran, Kassa hoped with all her might that her vision had been a premonition and they would not be too late to save their crewmates. Leal had a small phaser and it had been a long time since he’d found cause to draw it, but the weapon was clenched in his hand now as they paused for a moment outside the module’s door to see if they could telepathically detect anyone close by.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Kassa, and as Leal nodded in agreement, they entered.

  There were four bodies inside the central area of the greenhouse, all spreadeagled where th
ey fell.

  ‘Valoureans,’ Leal commented as they passed by the royal guards warily to get to their crewmates. He turned to keep an eye on the downed soldiers, while Kassa approached the bloodied area to check for vital signs in Ringbalin.

  Ayliscia Portus was quite obviously a lost cause as the back of her head had been blown clean away. Kassa really didn’t expect to feel a pulse as she pressed her fingers against Ringbalin’s neck. ‘He’s alive!’ She pulled out a torch to take a look in his eyes. ‘Completely catatonic.’ She rose, interested to see if the soldiers were still alive.

  ‘Careful,’ Leal warned her. He rolled the first Valourean onto her back with his foot and then jumped back in horror. ‘What in the dark universe happened to her?’

  It appeared as if the woman had imploded; her eyeballs had both burst and blood trickled from her nose, mouth and ears. The other Valourean was in exactly the same state.

  ‘Heavens preserve us!’ Kassa’s eyes darted back to Balin. ‘Could he have done this?’

  Leal was stumped for an answer. ‘Whatever the case, we have two dead Valoureans, one dead Phemorian agent and missing crew.’ Leal considered their options, and there weren’t many. ‘I need to get this vessel into orbit. It will be harder to take in space.’ He headed for the control room. ‘Are you right to move Balin?’

  ‘I’ll move him with a stretcher,’ Kassa said.

  Zeven was unbound and cast into a room. The door locked behind him. He removed his blindfold to perceive a dimly lit black room with no windows and no two-way mirrors or cameras to be seen. He sensed another presence and turned to find a tall hooded figure standing in a dark corner.

  ‘I don’t suppose locks make that much difference to you,’ Anselm commented as he lowered his hood.

  ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way…as Taren would say,’ Zeven retorted.

  ‘You’re never going to see her again,’ Anselm informed him matter-of-factly. ‘The Phemorians will see to that, whether she likes it or not.’

  ‘Are you saying that Taren Lennox has been kidnapped?’ Zeven inquired.

  ‘She has been claimed, so her incarceration will be perfectly legal,’ Anselm clarified. ‘Taren is the daughter of Qusay-Sabah Clarona and the heir to the Phemorian throne.’