by Kathryn Hoff
I stomped out, leaving both Danto and Archer gaping in surprise.
That evening, I found a few minutes to speak to Kojo in the wheelhouse. The view through the canopy was bleak—black punctuated by dark gray. The scanner showed the blip of the distant jump gate and flashed warnings about the beginning of the Gloom.
After making sure all the com nodes were off, I said, “I’m worried.”
“You’re worried? I’m goddamn petrified.”
“What were you thinking? You knew Balan would insist on seeing the tablet.”
Kojo waved a hand tiredly. “I thought Rachel would keep him tranqed until we got to Kriti. Once we got near enough, I was going to engineer a fire in the hold and pretend to dump the case along with some of the cargo. The mission would be over, we’d go to Kriti, get rid of all these burzing passengers, and finally take care of our other business.”
“And go back later to pick up the relic for Jamila?”
He flashed his you-caught-me grin. “Well, maybe. If the price was good.”
“Looks like Ordalo will have to wait.”
“It can’t wait long. We’ve only got thirty-one days left to deliver.” Kojo ran a hand through his hair. “Zub’s beard! I don’t know whether to hope we find Nakana quick, or that we don’t find it at all. Either way, we need to get moving and end this burzing mission. At this point, I’d shake hands with Zub himself if it would get us back to our old life.”
That night, I had trouble falling asleep. Maybe the relic had been a whining annoyance, but now it was gone, I missed it.
Lying mongrel spawn of a heretic slave and a Terran outlaw. I’d been an idiot for letting myself dream of Danto. My mother was braver than any Star Clan warrior, and Papa was cannier.
Once, when I was small, the landlord’s daughter had called me a big, ugly half-breed. Papa had taken me on his lap and soothed my anger and told me I had a strength and beauty different from any other. He’d promised we would go together to faraway worlds to meet all the different peoples of the universe—a promise he’d kept.
I got up and took out my mother’s old scarf. Thank you, Mother, for my life and my freedom. Thank you, Papa, for raising me to be strong and proud.
CHAPTER 23
Hunger and obsession
We did well out of the harrier. We left enough power mods in the crippled ship to run her environmental system until the Patrol could take custody of the four prisoners; otherwise, we scavenged everything we could detach. We took a very nice military-grade scanner to replace our damaged one, and Archer used the harrier’s spare parts to bring the water recycler back into operation. Her stores replenished our power modules and ammunition, and the food from her pantry even lent some variety to our meals—although with Balan’s seat glaringly vacant, no one had much appetite. Medical supplies were still low—there had been a lot of injuries to the survivors of both ships, and we had to leave a med kit with the harrier’s crew.
I hoped the Patrol wouldn’t delay in picking them up.
Rachel wasted no time in moving her things into Balan’s cabin. When I let Kojo know, he brightened at the thought that Jamila had a private cabin again.
Finally, after a brief memorial service for Balan and some much-needed rest, Sparrow’s engines roared back to life and the harrier’s hulk faded into the ether.
A day later, we were back in the dim, swirling ether of the radiation field.
Kojo peered at the scanner. “Zub’s pitchfork. It should be here.”
The atmosphere in the wheelhouse was tense with Kojo, Danto, and me crowded into it. I’d been trying to avoid Danto, but as we neared the radiation field, I’d begun to hear the voice of the relic.
This time, the bloodstone’s call was more urgent, more insistent.
Hunger.
I stood behind Kojo and rested my hands on his shoulders.
At the watch station, Danto tapped his fingers against the console. “If you really hoped to recover the relic,” he said, “sending it into a radiation field was a poor plan.”
Kojo made tiny adjustments to our heading. “I didn’t care about the relic. Still don’t. It’s Jamila who wanted to retrieve it, I just wanted to get it off the ship.”
I squeezed Kojo’s left shoulder.
He shook his head at the scanner. “Not in this area. Let’s move a little to port.” He adjusted the position of Sparrowhawk. I squeezed his shoulder again, and he moved farther to port.
Ping.
“Ah,” Danto said, “there’s the drone’s signal.”
“Standard recovery, Patch,” Kojo said.
“Right.” I headed for the cargo hold.
Hunger. Give me your blood.
In the cargo hold, I concentrated on maneuvering the drone into the hold, matching the drone’s movement to the ship’s and painstakingly working it into the airlock. Rachel stayed at my side, checking my neural scans. The Gavs, even Danto, had wanted to crowd into the hold while I brought the relic back, but Rachel had locked them out, saying she needed to concentrate on monitoring the readouts.
Blood.
“You hear it, don’t you?” Rachel asked softly.
I nodded. “It’s hungry.”
My hands shook on the drone controls. The drone was in position, but I hesitated to lock it down. “Once we got close to the radiation field, I heard it calling. I even knew where it was. Was that what Balan and Deprata felt, at the dig site?”
“Probably.”
“Am I going loony, like they did? Will all of us get that way? Maybe we should just attach a couple of grenades to it and blast it to pieces.”
Rachel put a hand on my shoulder. “Terrans aren’t affected, and I promise, I’ll watch out for you. As long as you don’t touch it, I think you’ll be all right. Remember, Balan and Deprata were religious scholars, already primed to believe they were receiving messages from their gods. If you’ll keep your Terran skepticism in mind, it will help you resist whatever you hear from the relic.”
I nodded. Terran skepticism. Remember, it lies. “And what if Lyden’s right? Suppose the bloodstone really is the voice of the Sages calling?”
“If it is, I’ll gladly hand the relic over to the Gavoran priesthood,” she said. “Otherwise, it’s going to the Settlement Authority for study.”
A couple of clicks and the recovery was complete, the drone locked in. I opened the airlock inner doors and dragged the drone into the launch bay.
“Don’t open it yet,” Rachel said. “First, sit quietly and let me monitor you. What is it telling you?”
Suriel called to me, Give me a taste of your blood.
“It’s asking for blood. I feel an…an urge to touch the relic.” I pictured a slit in my skin, the blood welling up.
Rachel opened the drone’s payload hatch and used clamps to retrieve the tablet. The relic seemed to pulse in frustration, as if willing the tools to slip.
“Be careful,” I said. “It wants blood.”
“Mmm.” Rachel carefully placed the tablet in the metal case.
I let out a breath as the case muted the relic’s call.
Rachel said, “Done. Let’s go join the others. By the way, I’ve changed the combination. As of now, I’m the only one who can open the vault.”
Lyden paced the salon. “This interference by Terran atheists must not continue. The relic is a gift of the Sages. Suriel calls to me. You must give me access to the relic now.”
Danto nodded. “Dr. Fiori, there is little point in delay. The goal of the mission is to find Nakana. We can only do so if one of us communes with the relic.”
“I should like to make some further observations first,” Rachel said.
“Observations?” Lyden’s voice rose in pitch and decibels. “What use are your observations when your science blinds you to the deeper truths of the spirit? I pity you Terrans. You seem to have no souls at all.”
“Lyden, I understand your wanting to make a connection with Suriel,” Rachel said carefully, “howe
ver, I’m not convinced you are the best person. We all saw the strain the relic put on Balan. Mya is younger and stronger…”
Lyden looked pinched, as if she hadn’t been eating well. Even Mya’s pretty face was beginning to look hollow-eyed.
Blood.
For the first time, I felt sorry for Lyden and Mya. Everywhere I went on the ship, whatever I was doing, I heard the voice of the relic asking to be fed. It was more than an annoyance now—it was a desire, a deep longing. The full-bloods must be hearing its demands far more clearly.
Mya clasped her hands together. “Please, Mzee Lyden. Do not risk yourself. Allow me to carry this burden.”
“Nonsense,” Lyden replied. “I am perfectly well. As the leader of the religious delegation on this mission, it is my duty to link with Suriel.”
Mya laid a hand on Lyden’s thin shoulder. “Then you should prepare yourself, Mzee Lyden. Perhaps we could spend some time in prayer and meditation.”
Rachel drummed her fingers on the table thoughtfully. “An excellent idea. The medical monitors are showing increased neural activity among the Gavorans, and I want to observe this for a few hours before anyone interacts with the relic. Get some rest, Lyden, and eat something. In the morning you can connect with the relic.”
Lyden glared at Rachel. “Very well. But tomorrow, I must join with Suriel. Mya, come.”
She swept out, nearly running down Kojo as he was coming into the salon.
Mya paused to speak to us—looking primarily to Danto. “Soon. Soon we will reach Nakana. It will be the beginning of a new age, a new dedication to the will of the Sages. And we will be the ones to bring it to our people.” With great dignity, she followed Lyden, and Danto trailed behind.
Kojo nudged Rachel. “Mya and Lyden are both going around the bend. Maybe you should tranq them.”
Rachel gazed after the Gavs. “The relic is affecting them, but they’re not mad. Gavorans take it for granted that spirits exist and speak to us—their entire religion is based on it. It’s we Terrans who can’t perceive their reality, like being color-blind or deaf to sounds other animals hear clearly.”
Kojo harrumphed and jerked his head toward the command deck. I followed him up the companionway to the wardroom.
When he shut the door behind me, he asked, “Why is Rachel dragging her feet? We need to get this mission over with. I’m tired of being pushed around in our own ship.”
“Rachel’s just being careful. Lyden’s awfully old to be making a blood sacrifice.”
“She’s loopy.”
“The relic is getting to her, Mya too. It’s hungry.”
He darted a look at me. “What about you?”
“I’m fine.” Except for hearing the damn thing every waking hour and in my dreams. “Ouch.”
Tinker jumped down—she’d bit my hand to let me know I’d been holding her too tight. A tiny speck of blood welled up, and I sucked it off.
That night, I tossed and turned in my bunk, kept awake by a hunger that had nothing to do with food.
“Sometimes, Patch, you can’t step aside. Sometimes you need to stand up and fight.”
Papa stood next to my bunk, in his old jacket, his brow furrowed.
“Papa?”
“Be strong,” he said. “Be brave.” Then he was gone.
I got up, too restless to sleep. Be strong, be brave? What help was that? Papa was gone to the afterlife, what did he know about mystical relics and yearning for something out of reach?
Blood.
I dressed and left my cabin.
All was quiet. No sound from the command deck. All the doors to the salon and passenger cabins were closed.
I crept down the aft steps. The cargo hold was empty, the flickering lights of Rachel’s monitors providing a soft glow.
The bulkhead that hid the synthreactor seemed undisturbed, the lube I’d used to cover the screws was still smeared with my thumbprint.
Touch me. Give me blood.
I sat on the deck beside the vault door.
Speak to me, Suriel, I thought. Balan is gone. Tell me, where is Nakana?
Blood.
I relaxed and let the thoughts come in. Swirls of yellow and red filled my mind, and a deep hunger. I yearned to open the vault, unlock the case, and stroke the relic. I ached to hold it to my breast, to open my vein, and bathe the relic in my blood.
“Patch?” A hand touched my shoulder.
Rachel knelt beside me. “Why are you here?”
“I…I want to feed Suriel.” Tears filled my eyes. “Can’t I be the one to feed it?”
“No.” She eased me up and away from the vault. “Go back to bed now. Believe me, you don’t want to be the one to feed it.”
As she walked me toward the passage, I said, “It’s strange, isn’t it? Up until Kojo sent it away, it was just an annoyance, wanting to go home. Now, the relic wants my blood. And I want to, like it’s my duty. Would it be so bad if I did?”
Rachel’s brows drew together. “I think it might be very bad. Get some sleep, Patch. And you mustn’t come to the cargo hold again without me.”
She shut the door behind me, locking herself in the hold with her equipment—and Suriel.
Sometime during the night, Lyden died.
CHAPTER 24
Blood sacrifice
The passengers had been picking at breakfast in the salon, casting baleful looks at the somber vista from the viewscreens. Danto sat next to Mya, his glances and her fleeting touches telling a tale of their growing closeness. Kojo munched stolidly on a rusk, Jamila frowned at her tea, Grim sat at a console with an endless game of solitaire.
I pushed around some porridge, feeling slow and tetchy after a night with little sleep.
Rachel walked in with her usual briskness. “I’m afraid I have sad news. Lyden has died.”
Mya gasped. Kojo’s head jerked up, his eyes wide.
“I’m sorry,” Rachel said. “Her medical sensor ceased registering during the night. I went just now to check on the reason and found her.”
Danto rose immediately. “Show me. The rest of you, stay here.”
Mya buried her face in her hands. I went to her side. “Oh, Mya. I’m so sorry.”
“So am I.” Jamila joined us and took Mya’s hand. “I had no idea she was ill.”
“Nor did I,” Mya sniffed. “Of course, she is—was—quite elderly. Perhaps the strain of this voyage, of preparing to commune with Suriel…”
Grim snorted. Jamila shot him an angry look.
“What? It is a little fortuitous, isn’t it?” Grim asked. “I mean, my condolences and all that, but maybe now we can do something sensible. Sell the artifact to Rampart Militech or Galactic Conglomerate—let them take the risks of finding Nakana, and the trouble of arguing with the Neanderthals.”
“You are hateful,” Mya spat out. “How can you think of your own selfish interests while our beloved Lyden lies still warm?”
“She may be your beloved Lyden,” Grim muttered, “but she’s certainly not mine.”
“Shut up, Grim,” Kojo said.
Danto strode into the salon frowning ferociously. “Dr. Fiori is attempting to determine the cause of death. In the meantime, each of you will give me a detailed statement of your movements during the night.”
“That’s insulting,” Jamila said. “None of us wished her harm.”
Kojo shrugged. “I slept until midnight, when I went on helm duty.”
“I was in bed, asleep.” Jamila folded her arms and leaned against the bulkhead. “Alone.”
“Crap,” Grim said. “You know where I was—I’m stuck sharing a cabin with you.”
Danto shook his head. “I made a security check during the night. You could have left the cabin during that time.”
Grim scowled. “I didn’t. You can’t pin anything on me.”
“I stayed in the salon, to give Lyden solitude, as she requested.” Mya nodded toward the couch. “It was not comfortable, and I did not sleep well.”
> “I spent most of the night in my cabin,” I said, “but I did get up around midnight to check on things.”
“What things?” Danto asked.
“I often do rounds at night. Last night, I went to the hold to be sure Rachel’s equipment was secure. She was up, too, and I spoke to her.”
Danto looked at us all, clearly unsatisfied.
“Look,” Kojo said. “You’re a Patrol officer. It’s natural that you should suspect something fishy—that’s your job. But most likely the lady just expired naturally. The real question is what we do now.”
“There is no question,” Mya replied. “We must continue. We owe this to Lyden.”
“That’s the third Gavoran death associated with the artifact,” Jamila said. “Surely, Sergeant, you can see the danger. It should be turned over to Terran scientists who can handle it safely.”
“Professor Patil, you are speaking nonsense.” Danto paced the threadbare carpet. “Deprata was a suicide and Balan was a victim of pirates. Lyden had not even touched the bloodstone. Whatever caused her death, it was not the relic.”
“Heart failure,” Rachel said as she walked in. “Lyden suffered a head injury and experienced a heart attack.”
“A head injury?” Mya exclaimed. “How?”
“She fell against the bunk. When I found her, she was on the floor, dressed in nightclothes. She may have experienced chest pain and fell when she tried to rise from bed. Or she may have fallen, and the shock or pain brought on the heart attack. Either alone could have been fatal.” Rachel poured herself some tea.
I sighed in relief. “So it was a natural death, then, or accidental.”
“Maybe she was pushed,” Grim suggested.
Rachel shook her head. “I’ve checked everyone’s sensor readings. She was alone in her stateroom when she suffered the attack, shortly after midnight. Mya, you visited her earlier. Did she complain of pain or dizziness?”
Mya twisted her fingers together. “She seemed as usual. I offered again to take the burden from her, but she became quite sharp with me. I thought it best to leave her alone.”
