“The lights are supposed to be automatic. As you can see, there are still a few…glitches,” he said. “I’ve never used this room.”
Roan was mentally elsewhere, still on the balcony, still focused on seeing the Kotaran with Jasper. The image replayed in a loop in his mind, a horror show that he couldn’t turn off. These Kotarans were unstoppable. Since Tokyo they’d been following him, and had only left a trail of death in their wake. First Aaron. Then the crew. When did it end?
Wind left his stomach and traveled up his chest, pounding his ribs. He believed this was what a heart attack felt like.
Kel appeared beside him. “You OK?” she asked. She was matching his expression with her azure eyes. Eyes of sympathy. The eyes he would look into after a long voyage, or after a night of lovemaking. Looking into them, he felt a small tinge of calm.
“I’ve been better,” Roan said. He could tell that Kel knew what he meant, and she let out a long sigh. The stress was catching up to all of them. For a month they’d been running and hiding. A lot of adrenaline was flowing through their veins. If anything, it was more exhausting than terrifying, but only because they’d always been one step ahead of the Kotarans. Now they were trapped.
“That Kotaran down there,” Roan said. “That commander. I think he was the one that killed Aaron on Earth.”
She couldn’t say much to that. Instead, she bit her lip and looked down. Out of the corner of his eye, Roan saw David was watching the exchange, but for some reason his head wasn’t glowing.
“I knew the Kotarans were bad,” Roan continued, mostly to himself. “But that kanga down there had a look in his eyes. A look I could read even from up on the balcony.”
“What look?” Kel said.
“Pure hatred.”
“Here is the situation,” Duvurn declared, as if he were suddenly firmly in control. He was oblivious to the wear on Roan’s face. “I can assure you your vessel is in good hands. My men took it out of the port this morning—I know I did not tell you this, but it is the case—and sent it to a smaller repair facility outside of the city. As far as I know, it has not been compromised. Perhaps it is not as fully stocked as you might like, but my men do have the means to defend themselves. I can have them fly over here within the half-hour.”
“We will not survive that long,” David said, and the Nyden had reverted to a panicked and pessimistic mood. But he was right: there was pounding outside the thick-double doors of the panic room, noises that sounded like wood being chopped away.
“Half an hour is better than nothing, no?”
“Tell me, Prince, is there anything you can tell us with certainty?” Kel’s last ounce of patience had melted away. “Just how safe is this room, for instance?”
“Perfectly safe,” Duvurn snapped. “I supervised its construction myself—all the main bedrooms have safe rooms, of course. Do you think I’d build a secure location knowing that it wouldn’t stand up to attack?” The gods were toying with them, because as soon as Duvurn said that a series of a short pangs hammered away at the steel door. Duvurn yelped. It sounded like several rifle bolts had just struck the door from the other side.
The head bodyguard said something in his native tongue. The words were throaty but solid; it didn’t seem like the guy was panicking.
Kel turned to David. “Translate, please.”
“He said this room has an automatic alarm. The authorities in the Port of Siy should be alerted to what is happening to us the minute the door is locked.”
“Can you trust them?” Kel asked. Duvurn started to laugh, then stopped. No answer readily burst forth, and that didn’t bode well for them. “Just what I thought. The authorities probably let the Kotarans just waltz right in here.”
“Waltz?” Duvurn asked. “As in dance?”
“Never mind, Your Excellency. You might as well get on the com right now and call anyone you know, see if they can take on these Kotarans. And call the Colobus. Tell them to get over here. We need all the help we can get.”
Duvurn waved and shouted something in Bauxen to his bodyguard, who picked up a bulky-looking com from the wall and began dialing. Presumably, it was an encrypted line to someone Duvurn trusted, but for all anyone knew the line hadn’t been connected. Kel turned back to Roan and knelt to his level, the pilot having sunk to the floor.
“Keep it together, Nick,” Kel said.
Roan closed his eyes and breathed in. He thought of Aaron, thought of Kel, even thought about Masao and their last voyage on the Dunnock. Where was his copilot now, he wondered? Enjoying some Bauxen drinks in the port of Siy? Searching for companionship among the docks? Talking with the Company representative? Wherever that location was, it was preferable to being suffocated in this safe room.
“I think what I need right now is for everyone to shut up,” he said. “There are too many voices.” For a while, everyone was quiet.
***
Five simultaneous rifle shots could not breach the outer door, but they made a dent in the steel, and the holes that resulted were smoking hot. Clearly, however, it was going to take more than lasers to blast through if they wanted to catch these people quickly. For all Grinek knew, there was a secret passage on the other end leading to the Prince’s hangar.
Roh appeared in the room, his face caked in the white of the marble and platinum dust drifting through the air. His chest was heaving, and he no doubt relished his return to combat.
“We have cleared the palace. Most of the Bauxens have fled, and we killed the rest. We found no more Earthmen.”
“They must all be cowering behind this door, Specialist.”
Roh regarded the unbreakable door. “Can we get it open, Commander?”
“Yes, but I think we will have to blow them out. A pity, since we might lose the device with the planet coordinates. And any knowledge in their brains.”
“Commander, I only wish to avenge my imprisonment.”
“You will, Roh. If not with their live bodies, then with their dead ones.”
***
Again, five soldiers fired their rifles at the door, but even at their highest outputs the energy beams could not pierce it. The plaster and wallpaper were well burnt, but beneath them was hardened steel. Obviously this Prince Duvurn had spared no expense in the security of his home. Since time was of the essence, Grinek decided to set a backup plan in motion.
“Specialist Roh, gather as many grenades as you can,” Grinek ordered. “Find the location directly below the safe room and begin assembling a bomb.” Roh bared his teeth in assent and hopped out of the room.
The Earthmen, Grinek thought, could find the floor disappearing beneath them quite rapidly.
***
Duvurn’s bodyguard said something to the Prince in their language and handed his master the com. Duvurn took it and talked into it for a few moments, eventually screaming and yelling to whomever was on the other end. After a minute, he set down the com and closed the connection. Wordlessly, he balled his fists into the air and pumped them, not a sign of jubilation but of indignation.
“That didn’t go so well, huh?” Kel asked, still kneeling at Roan’s side.
“You know what the planetary police did? They laughed at me. Said I was getting what I had coming. Can you believe that? And they call themselves the police! My palace is under their jurisdiction, dammit!”
“I thought you had many contacts,” David said, perhaps realizing his own contact wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. “People you trusted all over Bauxa.”
“I do! Or rather, I did! Those bastards probably resold the Kotaran we arrested back to his own race! He’s probably even out there as we speak.” To emphasize their dire situation, the door and walls again shuddered. From the crumbling metal, it sounded like the outer wall of the safe room had been breached.
The bodyguard and the head servant spontaneously began praying, head down and palms up toward the sky. Their rapid incantations, David whispered, were of the select but influential Henagh sect,
which preached that there was an individual god for every Bauxen, similar to the Earth concept of a guardian angel. At any other time it would have been fascinating to watch. Duvurn, however, showed no sign of prayerful reflection as he paced the tiny room.
“Is the Colobus on its way?” Kel asked him.
“It is. I trust the men in charge of your ship. At least, I did yesterday. My only concern is that they’ll arrive too late and we’ll be raggon manure.”
Nothing that was said spurred Roan to do what he did. Simply put, he was tired of all the talking and wanted some action. He stood and switched off his grief like flicking a switch, storing it on the wayside. At a com panel he pressed some levers, attempting to manipulate them all in hopes that one of them would do what he wanted. Duvurn noticed his consternation and hobbled to the human’s side.
“Can I talk with the Kotarans?” Roan asked.
Duvurn grunted in shock. “What?”
“Can I talk to the house from here? I want to talk to the Kotarans, maybe stall them and buy us some time.”
Duvurn caught on and coughed, signaling his acceptance of the plan. “Yes, you can press the uza—oops, I get confused with Earth colors—the red switch and talk to the house. They can find a com panel and respond to what you say.”
“Worth a shot,” Roan said, and then pressed the red switch. The panel lit up. “Attention Kotarans. Attention Kotarans. We want to talk.”
***
Ah, now that you are trapped, you want to negotiate? So typical. Grinek, now in the dining room below the bedroom, located a com panel on the wall and went to it. His men had been piling explosives on the table that they would eventually use to bring down the ceiling and the miscreants above. Grinek took a moment to find the right button on the com, then pressed it to respond to the disembodied voice.
“There will be no talk. Surrender immediately,” Grinek said into the com.
“Whoa, whoa! Let’s not be rude. Please, introduce yourself to me. To whom am I speaking?”
“You surrender immediately.”
“You must tell me your name, you kanga bastard, or you’ll never find the planet you’re looking for.”
In anger, Grinek smashed the com, shattering glass but not breaking it. He recognized the voice.
“I am…Commander Grinek of the Kotaran Imperium. My reputation is very famous. No bargain. I also know your name, Nicholas Roan.”
“Am I supposed to be surprised you know my name? I don’t give a shit. Listen, you let us get off Bauxa and we give you the coordinates. We don’t want to be a part of this chase anymore. It’s that simple.”
Simple? That English word meant stupid, or perhaps not difficult; Grinek couldn’t remember. He chose to ignore the phrase. “You cannot demand. I have many Kotarans here who want to kill you. The one you imprisoned and tortured on your ship. That Kotaran wants to talk with you. Have a…what is the word? A interrogation.”
***
Shit, that guy was outside? He exchanged a glance with Kel, who shook her head. “I enjoy killing your crew member,” this Commander Grinek continued. “His death…stupid. In vain. It would be bad if your other friends died also. Especially the female you have among you.” Roan pounded his foot against the wall, trying to hold in anger. This commander was trying to provoke him. “The only option left to you, I’m afraid…is surrender. Give me the information I want, and I let your friends go. But not you. I need to know what Aaron Vertulfo told you.”
“Don’t you dare mention his name, you kanga shit.”
“Aaron Vertulfo? Ah, he was your friend as well. Just another scientist to me. A selfish one who did not want to share with others. I was the one that killed him, you know…a pity he died for science, though this is admirable in a way.”
If there hadn’t been a wall separating them, Roan might have lunged for Grinek, and died trying. Yet another person invoking the name of Aaron, this time a goddamn murderer. Roan’s muscles grew tense and he felt himself shaking, as if he was about to snap apart, until a hand fell on his shoulder.
It was David. He gestured that he wanted to use the com. Roan relaxed his body and moved away from the panel, curious as to what the Nyden intended. David whispered a “thank you” and then leaned in to the com.
***
The foolish Earthman was silent, and Grinek was pleased that he was angry. An opponent in such situations invariably made a mistake. But it was all a game, a way to toy with his prey before he killed it. Grinek was going to continue insulting Vertulfo when a voice on the other end began speaking to him in his native language.
It wasn’t Roan, but a softer voice…with an accent…
“We are all brothers, sagely Grinek,” said the voice, using an old, pre-Imperial term for a fellow Kotaran. “Why should we kill each other if we all come from the same roots?”
“Who is this?”
“My human friends call me David. Equivalent, perhaps, on Kotara, is Toshtent. He was king of the ancient Woodvine culture, was he not?”
This person was discussing ancient history, and his life was at stake! Ridiculous! “You are as a good a person to tell as any. Surrender yourselves and the information.”
“What use is the information to you, sagely Grinek?” Ah, the Nyden! Grinek remembered him now. Vy Selkek, or some such name. Aaron Vertulfo had one Nyden biologist as his friend and he was renowned to be fluent several languages. Wasn’t he quite the scholar!
“You Nydens are worse than the Earthmen. At least all they want to do is eat and breed and make money. You can’t fight if your whole race depended on it, which it will, in short order. Nydens want to convert every planet, perhaps make the whole galaxy in the image of your philosophies. Well, there will be no proselytizing here! I will take your godsdamn information, from your information pad or from your mind.”
“And I ask you, sagely Grinek, why do you want it?”
Riddles! These Nydens always used riddles, or turned the question around. Grinek pounded the com. “Surrender!”
“Do you think you will find Bar’Hail, or even Fox’Lo, on this mysterious planet? Will you uncover the galactic Somoresh? Wouldn’t that be exciting?” Somoresh, for those who studied history, was the mythical land on Kotara where life supposedly originated.
“David, you idiotic pushta, I do not care about Fox’Lo or Bar’Hail or any of that erle shit. Do not try and persuade me with your fairy tales, because I am not an ignorant farmer!” Grinek realized that all his men were listening, especially Roh, whose expression had narrowed in concern. Grinek realized he’d lost control of himself, and the ghin among the crew were probably going to resent him for that. No matter. Let them talk to a Nyden.
David continued, “You don’t give your culture the credit it deserves. But very well. If you do not want to be civil, I don’t have to discuss anything with you. What did the prophet Annalek say—write insults in sand, compliments in stone?”
The voice of Roan returned. “Hey asshole, how did your little chat go?”
For once, Grinek did not have a reply, and instead finished the job of smashing the com. Glass shards sank in his knuckles and sparks flew about, but Grinek merely sank his teeth into the shards and pulled them out.
“Don’t just stand around!” Grinek ordered his men, spitting out bits of glass as he did so. “Finish that bomb and kill them all!”
Chapter 26
The room was humid with gloom, everyone sunken with the knowledge that this was the end. David calmly meditated, his eyes closed and his head streaming green. Kel was finding something fascinating on the ceiling, and Duvurn and the Bauxens were now conversing in their language. Were they finally saying what they thought about each other? Were old grudges coming to light? Were they praying?
Roan had his ear pressed against the wall, in a vain attempt to hear what was on the other side. Not even a murmur or a thud came from beyond the wall. He assumed this meant the Kotarans had moved to another section of the house. They probably planned to blow the
safe room up, either from above or below. Either way, there was nothing much Roan could do about it. He unplugged his ear from the wall and sat down in a cushioned bench, putting his hands in his palms and thinking
He was not a praying person. His father was, perhaps a remnant of the faith of his ancestors who crossed the Pacific to get away from a nuke-devastated America. But none of that fervor had been imparted onto him, mainly because his father was so passive. You could believe whatever you wanted, son, he remembered being told. Anyone who tells you they know the truth is lying. From that came nothing. No religiosity, no strain of either Christianity or Buddhism or Judaism or any of the other major religions of his ancestral homeland.
No one had given Roan any proof of a God. Not the Witnesses of the Jehovan moons, or the priests of the Euro camp, or the “guides” of Nydaya who wanted to discuss the state of Roan’s spirit. Roan was a man who liked to see the evidence before making a decision. And if there was no evidence for God, maybe there wasn’t one.
The facts spoke for themselves, Aaron had said all those years ago. Dammit, what did that even mean? Roan wanted nothing more than to fling himself back in time to that stoop behind the Centauri tavern, if only to shake an answer out of Aaron. Stop being so cryptic, man he would have told Aaron. You’re the authority on this subject. What’s the answer to it all?
Funny how he should think of these things now, when he’d faced death before. On Earth and on the Colobus, each time running from Kotarans. Now they had him trapped and he couldn’t keep his hands from trembling. When you’re in the heat of battle or a fight, you don’t think about things like the nothing beyond. Maybe that’s why you can be fearless. Trying to stay alive and deflect a Kotaran dagger will keep your mind off the deep issues. But be in a crashing shuttle or before a firing squad or in a foxhole, and you have lots of time to think.
No one will save us, Roan concluded.
“We’re saved!” Duvurn cried. The Prince’s com beeped steadily, some kind of indicator. “The Colobus is here!”
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