by Leslie Chase
Stepping up to the airlock door she tentatively reached out with a gloved hand to touch the smooth metal surface. Zardan joined her a second later, reaching past her to the controls. He seemed as surprised as she was when they responded to his touch and the door slowly ground open. Nervously, Gillian shone her light inside.
It wasn't like a human airlock, a small space with another door at the far side. Instead, it opened into a large room, dark and foreboding. Gillian took a step forward, planning to explore, but Zardan was having none of that. Grabbing her, he turned and put her down on the ice behind him. This time, Gillian didn't bother trying to struggle. There wasn't really any point, not when he was strong enough to casually carry her around.
Fuming silently as he went ahead of her, she watched him step carefully through the doorway. A second later he turned to her and beckoned her to follow him. Why does he have to be so infuriating? she asked herself as she followed him inside. Perhaps he was only trying to keep her safe, but still it irked her that he had to be the first one inside.
She forgot about her irritation when she saw what her suit's environmental scanner was registering. Her suit was picking up pressure outside, despite the wide-open door behind her. That ought to be impossible.
Low pressure, not enough to breathe, but it was there. And growing. She watched the needle creep up the dial for a moment, and looked back to make sure that the door hadn't shut behind them. No, it was still open to the near-vacuum outside, but whatever was filling the room with air didn't seem to care about that. Some kind of forcefield held the air inside.
She'd heard that the dragons had technology like that, the same thing that they'd used to give Mars an atmosphere but on a smaller scale. Knowing the technology existed and seeing it in action were two different things, though. This ought to be impossible, and she shivered.
Zardan didn't seem to find that wonder out of the ordinary, though. His focus was on the ship itself, looking around as though he'd seen a ghost. Gillian felt the pain washing through him as his face tightened. Whatever this place was, it clearly woke memories for him. Memories that, from the look of him, he'd rather leave buried. Going to his side, Gillian put her arm around his waist — no matter how angry she might be with him for manhandling her, she didn't want to see him suffer.
He hugged her back fiercely, as though she was an anchor that could keep him from drifting off into the darkness. Gillian gasped as his embrace squeezed the air from her lungs, but she didn't pull away. Instead she took comfort from the contact too, leaning into Zardan's perfect body and closing her eyes.
A loud beep filled her helmet as the suit announced the atmosphere outside safe to breathe. Gillian pulled back from Zardan, looking at the readout and wondering if she could trust it. Zardan showed no such worries, though, pulling off his airmask and dropping it. When he didn't show any signs of distress, Gillian followed more carefully, undoing her helmet and clipping it to her belt.
The air wasn't just breathable, it was warm. Warm in a way that the ice farm rarely got, warm like she remembered from summers on Earth. A faint, unpleasant smell, like plastic burning, carried on the soft breeze that flowed through the room, but it was breathable. After a thousand years, that was more than remarkable. It was a miracle.
"What the hell is this?" Gillian asked as she looked around the room. The walls were intricately carved with an abstract pattern that glittered in the beam of her flashlight. It was beautiful but overwhelming. "How can we breathe?"
"An airmaker," Zardan replied, running his fingers over the patterns beside him. The pain in his voice was unmistakable. "It can pump out air as long as there's power. I think it's been in standby mode, and only switched on now that someone's here to breathe the air it makes. No point in wasting it on the dead."
That bitter sentence hung between them for a second before Zardan sniffed and continued, frowning. "It's been damaged since I was last here, though."
"You've been here before?" she asked impatiently. He might be suffering, but she still deserved answers. "Where are we, then?"
Zardan turned to her, looking her in the eyes with his distractingly intense gaze. "Unless I'm mistaken, this is my aunt's yacht, the Grace of Herendar."
Hearing it said aloud made it more real. This was a spaceship. An actual alien spaceship. Gillian felt dizzy at the thought.
It wasn't like the human spaceship that she'd ridden on the journey from Earth. The dragons had been able to travel from star to star, and the secrets of their engines were lost in the fall of the Empire. If this ship had been able to travel faster than light, then it was a jewel beyond price.
"Is this... is it a starship?" Gillian asked, steadying herself against the wall. That would be like striking gold — valuable, crazily valuable, but dangerous too. No wonder people would kill over this find, it was worth far more than an ice farm could ever be.
Zardan nodded, moving to her side. "It was. Who knows if the drive will still function? But it hardly matters, because even if it's broken there are people who will pay a fortune for a chance to learn from it."
His voice was quiet, strained. Gillian turned to look up at him and he shrugged.
"If it does work," he continued, "or if your human scientists can work out how to build their own, then I could go home. Find out what happened to my people, my family."
The aching longing he hid under the gruff tone of his voice stabbed at Gillian's heart. She could hear the pain in his voice, the hope he brutally suppressed. A lump formed in her throat at the thought. Of course he'll go if he has the chance, she thought. It's his home, his family! And it's not as if I want him to stay around forever.
That last thought didn't feel entirely honest, though. Especially not when she saw the hint of vulnerability in his eyes, behind the wall of strength. Zardan felt like part of her life now, even if she hated to admit it to herself.
Cautiously, she put her arm around his waist and hugged him tight, leaning in against his hard muscular body as he held her. For a moment they were still, drawing strength from one another.
Then he withdrew, his face hardening as he pulled back behind his emotional shields. Gillian stepped back too, and for a moment both of them were silent.
"How did the bank know the ship was here, though?" she asked eventually, trying to focus on their situation. The future could wait.
Zardan frowned, and Gillian realized he hadn't thought of that either. He looked out of the room into the ice corridor beyond, and the tension in his muscles gave away the fury that welled up as he thought about it.
"It's got to be Karaos," he and the anger in his voice eclipsed everything else. "That snake was the Dragon Guard liaison with the space defenses, he'd have known if there was a starship in the system. He must have kept it quiet while he tracked it down with his friends. Hidden a chance to rediscover the Empire and see what happened there, so that he could profit from it!"
He strode to the inner door, and gestured at it angrily. The heavy metal slid aside impossibly quietly, revealing a dark corridor that led deeper into the ship. Lights flickered for a second and then went dark again, leaving Gillian oddly relieved. As creepy as she found the dark, long-dead ship, it was nice to know that dragon technology had some limits.
She shone her flashlight into the darkness and gasped as the light flashed across a dark red stain on the floor. A blood trail, long-dry, crossing the corridor at a junction. Shining the light in both directions, Gillian saw that the trail continued out of sight.
Whoever had left it had lost a lot of blood, too much. Gillian knew that dragon shifters were tough, and that their medical technology was incredible, but she had a hard time imagining someone losing that much blood and surviving the experience.
Beside her, Zardan lowered himself into a crouch and examined the stain. Choosing the left fork of the junction he moved forward slowly, carefully, following the trail deeper into the ship. As he stepped into the beam of Gillian's flashlight, his shadow filled the hall.
/> This is silly, whoever's here has been dead for a thousand years. Knowing that didn't make Gillian any more confident, though, and she followed Zardan cautiously. The blood trail ended at a door, and this one didn't open at Zardan's command. He growled, frustrated, repeating the gesture with more emphasis. Nothing happened.
"What's wrong?" Gillian asked quietly. It felt like speaking in a tomb.
"The door isn't responding to my implants," Zardan answered, trying to get a grip on the smooth metal surface. "This ship belonged to my family, the doors should open to me. Unless someone inside told them not to."
His face hardened before he turned away from her and focused on the door. Gillian waited for him to say more but he stayed silent, and she realized that he would be expecting to find someone he knew in here. The death here might have happened a thousand years ago for her, but for him it was practically yesterday.
Carefully, she put her hand on his back, trying not to startle him. His pain had been bad enough before he came face to face with his family's death, and she couldn't imagine what he must be going through now.
Through the thick glove of her suit she felt him tense and then relax as he accepted her touch. With a frustrated growl he let go of the door, giving up on pulling it open with brute strength.
"I've got a prybar," Gillian offered quietly. "But... if you don't want to look in there, we don't have to look?"
"I need to know whose blood this is," Zardan said. Then he growled again. "If they're even recognizable. It's hard to remember how long they'll have been in this tomb of a ship."
Gillian nodded. Pulling the pry bar from her belt she inserted it between the door and its frame. Zardan moved to take it from her, but she waved him back. If I'm going to be here, I ought to pull my weight, she thought as she threw herself into the work. Slowly, ever so slowly, the door shifted and creaked open a crack.
As soon as there was a handhold for him, Zardan joined her and together they strained against the force holding the door shut. A sharp snap announced the locking mechanism failing completely, and they tumbled to the floor as it slid wide.
Gillian landed against Zardan's hard muscular bulk, catching her breath as she felt him against her. Every time they touched, even through the suit, it took her breath away. For a moment she lay still, and then she pulled herself away from him, blushing as she scrambled to her feet.
He stood more slowly, and together they looked into the room beyond the door. It was a bedroom, large by Gillian's standards but then a dragon shifter would need that space for their wings. And lying against the vast bed was a body.
Gillian gasped and covered her mouth, swallowing. But she made herself step closer. It was a dragon shifter, that much was clear, but the long wait in vacuum had almost mummified the body. Red scales sat on a body that looked as though it had shrunk, and the dead man's wings had shriveled against him.
The cause of death was obvious, despite the time that had passed. His stomach had been open, and the body's hands were folded across it as though to hold in his guts. The trail of blood ended in a dark pool around him, and stained the green-blue robes that still wrapped his corpse. It was hard to tell if the expression on his face was caused by pain or the shrinking of the skin, but it didn't look like a good death either way.
Zardan's hand landed on Gillian's shoulder, pulling her out of her thoughts with a jump. She looked up at him, seeing a new darkness in his eyes.
"Do you know him?" she asked, quietly.
"I don't think so," he answered. "I can't be sure, not when he's in this condition, but it isn't someone I knew well. He's wearing the Herendar house colors, though, so he must be a distant cousin or something."
For a long second they were quiet, and Gillian tried to think of something to say. 'I'm sorry' seemed so inadequate, and anyway whatever happened here happened centuries ago.
But what exactly had happened? What had killed a dragon shifter and left this ship stranded on the land her family would one day claim? Gillian couldn't help wondering if whatever had done this was still loose on the ship somewhere.
Don't be stupid, she told herself. Whoever the killer is, they're long-dead too. But a lifetime of watching horror movies late at night had taught her that the killer would still be aboard somewhere, sleeping and waiting for its prey to wake it.
The fact that it was impossible didn't make it any less frightening, and she shivered, glad of Zardan's presence.
"Why was the ship sealed when we found it?" she asked the question more to be distracted from her fears than anything else. Zardan seemed to understand, turning her away from the corpse as he answered.
"I don't know," he told her. "I've got a guess, though. If whoever killed this man was still alive, he might have ordered the ship to empty itself of air to get his revenge. But then, why did the airmakers start up again as soon as I was inside? Let's see if we can find more clues."
Turning Gillian away from the gruesome sight of the body, he led her back into the hallway and deeper into the ship, following the trail of blood. The dragon had made it a fair distance, Gillian realized — he must have been pretty tough to drag himself so far bleeding that badly. At the far end of the corridor, the blood trail vanished through another door. This time it was a larger door, and Gillian guessed it lead somewhere important. The ship's bridge, maybe? Gillian hesitated with her prybar in hand.
Zardan took it from her, giving her a look that quelled her protest. Though she wanted to fight him, she also didn't want to see another mutilated corpse without warning, so she let him do the work on his own.
The doors gave quickly under Zardan's assault, and he pulled them wide. Beyond them was darkness, but this time Gillian could feel that it was a bigger space. Cautiously, bracing herself for horror, she shone her light inside.
A chaotic scene greeted her, a huge chamber easily large enough to hold a shifter in dragon form. And it did. The huge body coiled in a pit at the room's center, surrounded by humanoid corpses. Dozens of bodies were strewn around the room like discarded toys, and Gillian felt sick at the sight. Even mummified by the centuries they were a disturbing sight.
It took her a moment to register that only a few of the bodies were dragon shifters, though none of them were human. The others' skins were a deep blue, unlike the red scales of a dragon, and they lacked wings. Gillian stared as she realized what that meant. These were another alien species. And that meant that she was the first human to see them. The weight of that discovery made her shiver again.
Beside her, Zardan made an angry noise as he stepped forward into the room. The rage that radiated from him was almost palpable.
14
Zardan
Zardan couldn't believe what he was seeing, but the signs were clear. This was the scene of a battle, a mutiny, aboard his family's ship. The dragon in warform had died of her wounds, and whoever had inflicted them had known exactly what they were doing — the fine scales under her jaw had been sliced open, and under them was the main artery leading to her brain.
Rest easy, sister, he thought, and fly home to the halls of our ancestors.
It was a futile prayer, of course. Her soul was long gone, and if the halls of the ancestors were a real place, her soul had either found its way there or not. But it was all he could offer her. He didn't even know her name, only that she must be his kin. Just like the other two shifters on the bridge, who'd died in their humanoid forms,
He became aware of Gillian behind him, her presence all that kept his dragon rage in check. Without her, he knew he'd be tearing the place apart, taking vengeance on the bodies of the long-dead enemies. And that would be both pointless and dishonorable.
"What happened here? Who are those, those aliens?" Gillian's voice sounded half sick, half full of wonder at the sight, and he had to remember that she'd never seen any place like this. No human had, not for a thousand years.
"They are Carnids," he said, voice tight with the rage he fought to keep in check. "They were supposed to be
loyal servitors, huntsmen for our people. Bred to be loyal to the death."
"But they, I mean..." Gillian's voice trailed off as she shone the light over the bodies. One of the Carnids still had his hands wrapped around the neck of a dead dragon, and the dragon held a blade that stabbed into the Carnid's chest. They'd died fighting each other, that much was clear.
Zardan felt an urge to separate the bodies, to lay his kinsman to rest. But he knew that if he tried to move them, they'd fall apart. The bodies had only remained intact so long because of the vacuum and if they were to be moved it would have to be done more carefully than he could manage on his own. He settled for muttering another prayer over his kin before he answered Gillian.
"They must have been turned, somehow. By a rival house, perhaps?" He shook his head. "I don't know. No one on Mars knows what caused the Dragon Empire to fall. It's one of the reasons the Emperor is so keen to get back to the stars, so we can find out what happened."
"So he'll want to have this," Gillian mused. "Not just as a ship, I mean. There might be clues to what happened."
"Yes," Zardan said, turning to look her in the eyes. "And perhaps that's what Karaos wants it for. He could name his price, and the little schemer has always wanted to be a duke. Or maybe he just wants to sell it to a human corporation and live off the fortune that would make him. Either way, that's not the point. This is a tomb to my kin, and I will not let it be sold for a profit."
His voice rose uncontrollably as he said that, and he finished at a roar that made Gillian flinch back. Immediately he was sorry, the anger dampening. His mate didn't deserve that anger, it was for those who wanted to use his dead family as a commodity.
"I'm sorry," he said, stepping back to give her space. "I didn't mean you to frighten you."
Gillian glared up at him, a fiery look of rebellion in her eyes.
"Don't shout at me, then," she told him. "I'm not one of your enemies, Zardan. But the ship's on my family's lands, and that means that I'm involved whether I want to be or not. Danforth and his bank aren't going to give up if they know this is here, and I don't think they'll care about respecting the dead. If you want to keep this place safe, you need to get them off my back."
