The Fated Stars

by Veronica Scott

  He heard shrieks the likes of which could never come from a human throat, but he stood unbowed. This was his battle, here and now, and he couldn’t move even an inch or he might lose. The colors moved less aggressively in his targets now, more sluggish. Less colorful, fewer of the puzzling alien tones in the palette. He pressed again, hurling the pure green of Thuun at them, and the blue fire of his beloved warrior—all her strength and resolve pouring into him through their clasped hands, and blasting out in his flow of energy to harry and hurt the enemy.

  Slimy extrusions touched his physical body, winding around his waist, and he heard Larissa swearing and the sound of weapons firing. As the creature came close enough in their last ditch physical assault, he used his mind to thrust a spear of green energy edged with the blue into the center of the Mawreg’s aura. Bolts of energy flew like lightning from the tip, crackling through the Mawreg’s sheets of color, which melted as the purity of Thuun-given power touched them.

  The second creature tried to flee to its ship, but Samell had a firm grip on its innermost being, on its self. Tired though he was, he rallied one final time and repeated the bolt of green and blue fire, not caring if he lived or died, as long as his beloved and his people would be safe as a result of his sacrifice. He took a step forward, Larissa holding his hand with a grip stronger than iron, and he reached out with the core of his own soul. He summoned all the power Moratiu had granted him and exploded the Mawreg’s being from the inside out.

  “Larissa Channer, I love you,” he said, hoping he had enough voice left for Larissa to hear him.

  The reverberations of the Mawreg’s death caught him in a mad whirlpool of colors, and he swirled with it, too weakened to fight. He was going to drown in the backlash of power.

  So be it.

  “No, Goddamn it, you don’t get to die.” Larissa’s voice, screaming at him, fear and love mixed, not that he could see her aura, for his power was fled. She held him in her arms, and he realized he’d fallen at some point.

  “Stay with me, don’t you dare leave me.” Her voice was impossible to resist, the blue of her flames warming his chilled body, the red of her love seeping into the nooks and crannies of his depleted stores of power.

  Samell took a deep breath, heard his heart begin to beat again and laughed with pure joy. “When you announce your desire with such force, how can I refuse?”

  He realized he was lying on the deck, his head pillowed against her, while she held him in a grip of steel, as if to physically prevent him from slipping into death.

  “Can you stand?”

  Could he? Moratiu’s energy was sparking in every inch of his body, but its work wasn’t done yet. “Perhaps with help.”

  She kept her grip on his arm while she clambered to her feet. Pete came forward to help Larissa brace him while he stood and got his balance. He straightened. “Why are you all staring at me?”

  “Man, I watched what you did with my own eyes, and I can’t believe it,” Peter said. “You killed two Mawreg. I have no idea how you did it, but it’s a feat no one else has ever accomplished to my knowledge. Or at least not by anyone other than a Mellurean Mind.”

  “You’re one spooky dude.” Donnie D’s voice and his colors held awe, with a tinge of fear. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”

  Samell craned his neck to stare at the blasted door to the landing bay. Dead aliens of a species unknown to him, but which he assumed must be Chimmer, littered the deck. Blasted battle robos were burned and exploded throughout the corridor, showing how fierce the battle must have been around him while he was locked in combat of a different sort. A large mass lay under a hastily thrown sheet of camo net. Unpleasantly colored fluids leaked around the edges. A similar mass lay inside the landing bay door. The corpse must be the second one he’d killed, which he dimly recalled had attempted to escape.

  “Apparently your people can look at them,” Larissa said. “Bartell and Kliderr had to throw the camo over the bodies because even dead the Mawreg unnerve me and my guys.”

  “Command is going to want those bodies,” Pete said.

  “And be welcome to them.” Samell waved his hand under his nose. “Stinks.”

  Larissa leaned closer, speaking for his ears alone. “Now we have even more bargaining chips because you can kill humanity’s deadliest enemies barehanded.”

  He was distracted as he realized a few faces were missing. “Did we suffer casualties?”

  “Neeman, the freighter crew chief. Hildianne, one of your priestesses.” Larissa’s face was set in sad lines. “A few others suffered blaster burns but, once the military arrives, we can get medics in here. Your people’s healing powers appear to be understandably depleted.” She reached to touch his head gingerly. “Did you know a section of your hair turned white?”

  “What?” His heart stuttered again. “Show me.”

  “I don’t exactly carry a mirror around with me.” Her smile was lop-sided.

  “I have to see it now.”

  “There’s a shiny plate on this wall, covering fragile tech gear,” Donnie said. “Sounds like a hair emergency.” He guffawed and the other humans followed suit.

  The Tulavarrans exchanged glances as he tugged Larissa past them to the panel the sergeant indicated.

  “Are you ok? Is this something I should worry about?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  He stood regarding his reflection, then blinked and peered again. One section of his hair was indeed changed. “Silver,” he said, “Not white.”

  “A miracle,” Bartell murmured.

  Samell touched his hand to the slender strand, maybe an inch wide. Concentrating only on Larissa, he stared into her eyes as if the two of them were alone in the corridor. As far as he was concerned they could have been. “When a priestess truly loves a warrior of Thuun, she grows the violamikri in her hair—tiny purple flowers, visible for only a few moments and never seen again. In our history there have been very few priests who were blessed to find true love with a warrior of Thuun, male or female, but when one did, their gift from the god was said to be a strand of silver, to present to his warrior as a symbol of their love.”

  “You can keep your hair,” she said with a laugh, but next instant pointed at his wrist with a frown. “What’s this? When did you get it?”

  Surprised, he found a thin, braided bracelet of silver around his wrist, glowing with a faint blue energy fading even as he rotated his arm to examine the gift from the god. “The strand of silver, from the hand of Thuun, as the ancient tales said, forged from our combined power as we fought the enemy. Will you accept this gift from me, Larissa Channer?”

  Eyes wide, she licked her lips in a rare show of nerves and nodded.

  He knelt in front of her. “Give me your left wrist.”

  When she extended her arm, rolling up her sleeve to bare her wrist for him, he took the bracelet, which had a simple loop clasp, from his own arm, and kissed her pulse point before sliding the delicate band over her hand to rest on her wrist. He rose, taking her into his arms for a long and passionate kiss.

  The Tulavarrans cheered. Pete clapped them both on the backs with a loud, “Congratulations.”

  “I wanna kiss the bride next,” Donnie D said, ducking as Larissa took a mock swing at him.

  “This wasn’t a wedding, dope.”

  “Looked like one to me.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Sectors battle group arrived several hours later, the huge battleship Persephone and her attendant destroyers coming out of hyperdrive neatly surrounding the Sword of Thuun.

  Larissa, Samell and their top advisors waited on the bridge of their captured ship, anxiously waiting to see what the Sectors’ attitude was going to be. She wished there was room to pace but the chamber was crowded. Samell squeezed her hand gently in reassurance and she drew a steadying breath. Whatever the Sectors wanted or demanded, they’d deal with it. Seven hells, they’d defeated the Shemdylann and the Mawreg – she and Samell could certainly maneuver her
own people into a good outcome, couldn’t they?

  The voice of the Persephone’s comtech crackled over the speakers on the bridge. “Compliments from Admiral Murphy, he says you’ve obviously been busy. He requests permission to come aboard.”

  Standing right behind Donnie D as he worked the coms board, Larissa said, “High Priest Samell, leader of the Tulavarra and commander of this ship will welcome a small party to discuss next steps. You’ll have to dock in the cargo bay on the starboard side since, as you can see, the Mawreg made their unsuccessful assault on the regular landing bay.”

  “No problem. Admiral Murphy and his party will arrive in forty-five minutes.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  The link clicked as contact was severed, and Larissa stared at her companions. “I have a pretty fair idea of the standard military protocol, but I think in this case we forego all the ceremonial bullshit and just meet them. I’m not expecting any problems—the Sectors wants the ship and the Mawreg, and we have a few key demands, so I’m hoping we can meet in the middle.”

  “How trustworthy are these new players as allies—are they likely to try to take us over by force?” Samell asked.

  Larissa shook her head, as did Pete. “The Sectors are honorable in their dealings. I’ve heard of this admiral, and he’s a straight shooter. I’m merely saying let’s dispense with pomp and circumstance.”

  Laughing, Samell examined his bedraggled utilities, which had seen better days. There’d been no human clothing in the cargo hold, so he and his people remained in their rags. “It would be a challenge to enact my role as a pompous, overbearing high priest right now. But I’d make the effort if it was required.”

  “The military’ll have to deal with us as they find us,” Larissa said.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Pete said, “There’s something I have to do before the admiral arrives.” He headed for the corridor to the lower decks.

  “What’s gotten into him all of a sudden?” Hands on her hips, Larissa stared after him, a frown on her face.

  Donnie shuffled his feet. “There’s, uh, a certain priestess he probably wants to, um, thank for healing his injuries when we were brought aboard.”

  “Really? Who?”

  “I’d rather not say, ma’am, as it’s the captain’s personal business. Thing is, once the brass comes aboard, McQueen and I’ll have to report to the Persephone for debriefing without delay. Doubt we’ll see you again, or not for a long time anyway.”

  “I remember those after action reporting sessions.” She slapped him on the back, one soldier to another. “The analysts’ll turn you guys inside out for details of what you’ve been though here with us. You’ll be lucky to be cut loose in a month most likely. No one you want to say a special goodbye to, sergeant?”

  He blushed to the tips of his ears. “Doubt she even knows I’m on the ship, ma’am.”

  Patting his arm, she gave him a tiny push. “Go find out. Big tough Special Forces operator like you, afraid to take a risk?”

  When the military shuttle docked and the portal slid aside to allow their guests to enter the Sword, Samell admired the crisp salutes McQueen and his sergeant snapped off. Larissa stood at his shoulder, Kliderr on the other side, Bartell and Zimeer one step behind.

  The admiral was predictable, ramrod straight, a tall man with a weather-beaten face and sharp hazel eyes. The woman who walked at his side was unexpected, and Samell had to work hard to contain his astonishment. She was tall and gorgeous, with ebony black hair and violet eyes framed by lush black eyelashes. She wore a richly embroidered long blue gown and rings with huge gemstones gleamed on her hands. What was truly astonishing, however, was that all Samell could read from her aura was the purple of absolute power, threaded with the golden hues of one accustomed to rule. A sensation of unthinkable age, much like Moratiu but vastly more primordial. He could read nothing else regarding her. He couldn’t read the admiral’s colors, nor those of the other officers with him.

  “May I introduce the Lady Glennit, a Mellurean Mind of the first Council?” the admiral said.

  The woman inclined her head. “A pleasure to meet all of you.” Her voice was beautiful. Both out loud in Basic and in the words she inserted into his head, spoken in fluent Tulavarran.

  I decided it would be ideal to shield my companions from your powers this trip, priest-brother, rather than to blanket the powers of all aboard this ship. Make no mistake, I can take such action if required. Best not to provoke me.

  “I’ve met a few of your people before,” Glennit said out loud as she shook his hand in the gesture the humans invariably performed as a welcome.

  “In the Sectors?” he asked, still shaken by the sheer power of this being.

  “Yes, but we can—and will—discuss the circumstances later. First, I wish to see the dead Mawreg.” She raised one elegant eyebrow. “I was told you’d killed two.” Well done, brother.

  “Yes, I did, but many of us here played a role in the final battle.” He indicated the members of his party. “Captain McQueen and Sergeant Durham made critical contributions to our success as well.”

  “I’ll want to have the full details, in particular how the killing of the Mawreg was accomplished.” Admiral Murphy gave Pete a speculative glance. “I’m sure your report will be most illuminating, captain. Fortunate you were here for the battle.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lady Glennit took charge of the meeting once more. “Before we go any further, allow me to introduce Special Agent Lily Quebasson, of the Sectors Criminal Investigation Agency. She’s in charge of the Amarotu Combine case and is hoping to have a chance to interview your people about what each may have seen or learned during their time as prisoners of the crime syndicate.” Glennit glanced at the agent’s face. “With full immunity for the Tulavarrans of course.”

  “Of course.” Lily bowed her head, studying a personal AI intently, as if to cover her annoyance. Samell didn’t need to read her aura to get a hint of the frustration this woman had for the Mellurean restraints on her ability to grill his compatriots.

  “We can get to the legal issues later, however, as I’m impatient to view the deceased Mawreg. May we go there now, please?” Glennit’s request was polite, but Samell had the mental impression of velvet swathing a sharp sword.

  Since Larissa had warned him the new arrivals would probably want to start their tour by seeing the dead enemy, he was prepared to conduct them to the spot. “Of course. Right this way.”

  The breached landing bay was guarded by his people and the surviving freighter crew member, all armed with scavenged Shemdylann weapons. As he and the group he was conducting arrived, Samell noticed the humans avoided staring directly at the shrouded corpses and fidgeted uncomfortably. Glennit displayed no hesitation and walked right up to the first body, lifting a corner of the covering fabric with a light psychic touch and staring at the dead Mawreg.

  “You’ll want to send your techs over as soon as Lord Samell grants permission,” she said to the admiral. “I’ll place the bodies in stasis for now so there’ll be no further deterioration.”

  No sooner had she spoken than the air around both corpses shimmered and solidified into what looked like blocks of clear ice. The power this woman casually displayed was astounding. Samell could see why the humans spoke of the Mellureans with awe. He wondered why they didn’t just take over the entire galaxy and be done with it.

  Who’s to say we haven’t done that in the long ago past? Her voice was tinged with amusement. But there are few of us now and our interests lie in other pursuits.

  “Let us adjourn to my wardroom,” he said, “Where we can discuss next steps and arrangements.”

  Donnie had found cases of extremely expensive Sectors feelgoods in the cargo hold, as well as real Terran coffee, so a selection of those refreshments were arranged on a side table in the former captain’s conference room. Samell invited his guests to partake, and made a toast to their continued victories against the Mawre
g, Chimmer and Shemdylann as soon as everyone had a glass or mug in hand.

  “As well as other client races you’ve yet to encounter,” Admiral Murphy put in. “Don’t be lulled into thinking you’ve seen all the forces arrayed against us under the Mawreg hegemony.”

  “Please, be seated.” Samell took the center chair on the far side of the table, his back to the wall. Larissa sat next to him on the left and the rest of his people arranged themselves at the other empty chairs on their half of the table.

  Lady Glennit took the center seat on her side of the table, with the Admiral and Special Agent Quebesson on either side.

  Pete and Donnie sat next to the Admiral.

  Almost as if we were no longer allies. With a slight jar, he realized he could no longer read their auras either. Glennit had apparently taken them under her shield. A bit anxious, he couldn’t stop himself from peeking at Larissa’s aura and was relieved to find he could still see her bright warrior blue, threaded with red, and accented with the shiny steel gray of determination.

  Although human and a citizen of the Sectors, as well as a friend of a friend of my people, I see clearly her allegiance – and her heart – are with you. She needs no help from me. Glennit sipped her sweetened cup of coffee, beaming as if this was indeed a social gathering.

  “We’re prepared to transfer all of you to my ship,” the admiral said. “Food, clothing, medical care, access to the hydroponics deck and the crew recreational garden, transport to a suitable destination within the Sectors to be chosen by us—”

  “Contingent of course upon your co-operation with my investigation.” Lily’s interruption was smooth and matter-of-fact.