VACATE YOUR VEHICLE AND STEP INTO THE OPEN
‘Looks like we had better do what it says.’ Astral-La took the lead.
They stepped out into the cold. The air was like ice and everywhere was lit by powerful lights. The ship was partially camouflaged and blended into the night air and the surrounding terrain.
They raised their hands in the air and waited.
The Voice boomed into the night again.
MOVE AWAY FROM EACH OTHER AND GET ON YOUR KNEES. THE CHILDREN REMAIN STANDING.
‘At least they seem civilized,’ Venetia said.
SILENCE.
To the amazement of Astral-La and Flower-of-Sands the invaders had delivered the last instruction in Standard Galactic. They stayed silent, not even daring to look at one another.
A capsule detached from the lander and descended to a few metres from Flower-of-Sands and her crew. Giant individuals, heavily armed, covered in black semi-camouflaged combat suits, emerged.
‘Identify yourselves.’ One of the individuals spoke in Standard Galactic.
Flower-of-Sands had a feeling of Deja-vu. Her legs began to tremble with excitement and apprehension. ‘We are from another galaxy known as the Throne of Ramold.’ She spoke in Standard. ‘Two are from the Milky Way and from Earth. The children are from this planet.’
One of the individuals removed its face plate and Flower-of-Sands nearly collapsed.
‘Rann! How?’
‘You have no rights that allow you to ask questions. Follow.’
Flower-of-sands turned to her friends, her face ecstatic. ‘How? Rann? Here? I don’t understand.’
‘Silence! There will be a time for questions later. And we will be asking the questions.’
Flower-of-Sands was laughing and crying with confusion, disbelief, and relief. ‘Folks, we are going home. We are going home!’
‘This is my home,’ Wanda said. ‘I don’t wish to go anywhere else. I want to go to my homeland.’
Flower-of-Sands leant towards her. ‘You must come with us now. We can sort everything out later.’
‘No! I want to stay here. This is my world. I don’t want another world.’
‘Wanda, you must come with us now. There is nothing for you here!’
It was the wrong thing to say, and Flower-of-Sands knew that even as she said it.
‘Yes, there is!’ Wanda shouted defiantly, turned, and ran into the surrounding shadows.
‘Wanda, come back.’ Flower-of-Sands felt frustration and despair flood through her.
One of the Rann officers leapt after her, but returned shortly empty handed, shaking his massive head in bemusement.
‘She’s sharp, she’s very clever at hiding.’ Daff said. ‘Let me go after her.’
Flower-of-Sands felt her world collapsing. They were so close to salvation, yet Wanda and Daff were suddenly pitted in a precarious conflict with fate.
‘Go if you must Daff. I will follow.’
‘We have no time for this,’ a Rann officer boomed. ‘We have a war to fight. Find her quickly or we shall leave you here, and return later – if you are lucky.’
‘No, no. no, please give us a chance.’ Flower-of-Sands ran after Daff expecting the Rann to stop her and was surprised when they did not. She crashed through the darkness, panic mounting in her like a herd of wild horses.
Daff and Wanda stood in front of her. Wanda’s head was bowed and Daff was holding onto her. Somehow, he had found her and persuaded her to come back.
Flower-of-Sands knelt and took Wanda in her arms. ‘You can stay here on this planet, but please, please come with us now or we shall all be stranded here.’
‘Good,’ Wanda said, still defiant, but she followed Flower-of-Sands back to the Rann.
Soon they were on the shuttle, everything happening as if in a dream. Rann marines surrounded them. A female Blue appeared, equally warlike, but with a softer manner. The Blue ushered them to seats and helped Wanda and Daff strap in. The shuttle began to move, almost imperceptible, gee-tech protection obviously activated. Lift off was the sweetest feeling Flower-of-Sands had felt since landing on this planet. Soon, they were in space. Astral-La, Venetia, Jalaal, and Flower-of-Sands embraced and laughed, which gradually gave way to hysterics.
One way or another, they were going home.
Chapter 40
She looked across the table at the group of Rann officers, each of whom wore an expression of annoyance mixed with distaste. The traditional attitude of Rann males to women of the Confederacy was that such women were tiresome and far too liberated for their own good, prone to promiscuity, infidelity, and, if taken seriously, highly distracting. That such a one should have turned up here in the middle of a top-secret op, in another galaxy, was inopportune and presented an unprecedented security issue. Grim hardly described the central Rann whose face was moulded in distain and mistrust.
‘Have we met before?’ Flower-of-Sands asked in a small voice, knowing immediately that she had said the wrong thing.
The Rann voice was like a rusty iron gate closing slowly. ‘We have not had the pleasure.’ Was this irony? Surely not. The Rann did not do irony. The rusty gate continued. ‘I am, in your terminology, Admiral Trae, and we are the ones asking questions.’
This was patronising, but she bowed her head.
The admiral regarded the Confederacy woman. In conference, his chain of command had agreed to sound her out and run neuro-scans during her interrogation. He must be firm and frighten her; not so easy as the woman was flexible in a manner that was most irritating.
‘You realize that your presence here is highly inconvenient and has blown open a clandestine operation that has been in effect for at least a hundred years. Blown open, exposed, endangered, threatened, uncovered, sabotaged, disrupted, incapacitated.’ A mounting crescendo of fury.
She was surprised by the Rann’s liberal outburst of synonyms – usually the Rann were austere in their use of language; she must have seriously pissed them off.
‘I …’
‘Silence! Your insolent, Confederacy attitude is not appreciated here.’
‘But …’
‘Silence!’ The Rann officer’s countenance was like a remote asteroid passing behind a cloud of debris, extinguishing all hope of exposure to even the faintest sunlight. ‘The Rann have a strict code of caring for and not harming non-combatants …’
‘Yes, of course, I …’
‘In your case, however, we find that we could regard you as a combatant. You are dressed for fighting, your escape pod had weapons in it, and by your own admittance you were engaged on this planet in warlike gladiatorial activities …’
‘Yes, but I was forced …’
‘Silence!’ The Rann’s face took on an even bleaker aspect – she was astonished that that was possible. ‘Some of us are proposing that you be regarded as a combatant and tried by a Rann military court with the recommendation of a capital sentence.’
Flower-of-Sands felt faint. ‘What is happening?’ she uttered to herself. She was here to negotiate something of immense importance, and instead she was being threatened with the death penalty.
A Blue sitting on the far right of the group leant forward and engaged the admiral in quiet conversation. There were five Rann in total, three males and two Blue females. The Blue speaking to the interrogator and engaging the others in the group was a person of authority, despite her seating position. She leaned back and addressed Flower-of-Sands, her voice clear and melodious.
‘Fear not, young lady, you will not be executed, and we will not try you as a combatant, despite your apparent prowess at unarmed combat, which, we realize you never intended to use in direct warfare. Secrecy must be observed, however, and we will discuss that with you later.’
Flower-of-Sands felt relieved and then began to cry. It was all too much. Thinking back to her attempts, a lifetime away, to gain access to the intergalactic drives and the problems she had with that, it was difficult to understand why she had not suspect
ed a conspiracy.
The female Blue began speaking. ‘Flower-of-Sands, the neuro-scans and clandestine test we have run to ascertain that you are who you say you are and not a spy for the enemy have proved negative and we are pleased to welcome you as a refugee and rescued victim of the regime on planet X. Nevertheless, we still hold you responsible for a breach in the security of our operation against the Pulse, a situation we will deal with later. We do have some ideas, put forward by the more ‘blue sky’ thinkers in our ranks, but we will put those to you when you have settled down. Meanwhile, let us deal with your request regarding the two children Daff and Wanda.’
Admiral Trae stirred. ‘State your case.’
She cleared her throat, reeling from the sudden change in dynamic. ‘I wish to apply for guardianship of Daff and Wanda. Both are orphans, even though Wanda has only just come to terms with that. Although planet X has been liberated there is nothing for them there. Daff and I have bonded as have Daff and Wanda, and Wanda and I are in the process of bonding. I care for them both, and wish to offer them a home and everything that goes with that – education, a caring environment, friendship, and stimulating projects, including the Confederacy mind training programme that all children undertake from the age of twelve until they leave school.’
‘We are aware of the Confederacy training procedures,’ the other Blue said, demonstrating by her icy tone an unsympathetic attitude towards Flower-of-Sands and the Confederacy. ‘Many of us consider Confederacy people to be too liberal, in many cases to the point of decadence.’
The admiral came in with a voice saturated with disapproval. ‘Our investigations into your background reveal that you are sexually promiscuous and that in addition you have indulged in a relationship with a female android, something that to the Rann mind is preposterous and indicates a superficial, recreational approach to matters that to the Rann are of the utmost seriousness. Is this a fitting example for young people, such as these two refugees from Planet X?’
‘That was a one-off, and Ninthe, the android in question, has had her love for me erased. We are no longer, in fact never were, in a relationship.’ She paused. She needed to be careful of what she said. It was imperative that she was allowed guardianship of Daff and Wanda. The Rann would not understand her relationship with Ninthe, so why try to explain it. ‘It was a silly experiment, which I regret,’ she lied, aware that she was probably still being neuro-scanned. ‘Nothing means more to me than providing Daff and Wanda with a loving home. I fought for and risked my life for Daff on Planet X and agreed to gladiatorial combat to save his life. If you think of me as a combatant, then I was, and would be again if it were to save Daff, whom I love as if he were my own.’
The Rann interrogators were silent and seemed to be impressed. The senior female Blue exchanged a few words in the Rann language with her colleagues before turning once again to Flower-of-Sands.
‘You have also put in a request to take the children to the Marleeseen planet Paradise?’
‘Yes, I feel being there will heal the emotional scars and trauma from their lives on Planet X. Later, maybe, we can move.’
‘The Rann do not approve of the Marleeseen and regard them as irresponsible. Nevertheless, we also recognize that they are incapable of causing harm. Were we to approve of your guardianship of the children, we would welcome such a venture.’ She paused and allowed herself a small smile. ‘We will make a decision shortly. In the meantime, you may have access to the children, who incidentally are anxious to see you.’
‘Thank you,’ Flower-of-Sands said as she rose from her seat. ‘When will I know.’
‘At the proper time. And now we wish to make a small presentation. You will proceed to the marine’s conference hall immediately. Alethea here will escort you.’
The disapproving Blue rose and approached Flower-of-Sands. She was smiling and displaying friendly body language. Interrogation over,’ she said with an amused tone. ‘I am honoured to escort you to the main hall.’
Unnerved by yet another change of dynamic, Flower-of-Sands allowed the Blue to take her arm and lead her to a nearby jump-booth. Within seconds they were walking into a large auditorium, filled with Rann marines and Rann military of all colours. On the front row were Daff, Wanda, Astral-La, Venetia, and, amazingly, Helena and Alois. Her escort showed her to a seat and then moved discreetly away.
After a worrying wait in which she dared not look at her associates, the admiral and Rann officials, dressed in formal costume, with cloaks and ceremonial swords, walked onto the stage. She felt breathless with anticipation and wandered what it was about, as did her friends. Only Daff and Wanda seemed happy and smiling, as if they knew something auspicious was about to occur.
The admiral embarked on a speech in one of the Rann’s ceremonial languages. His voice reverberated throughout the auditorium. Soon the stage was alive with marines, fully armed and enacting a battle, a beautifully choreographed dance, with dramatic and appealing music. Astral-La looked over to Flower-of-Sands and winked. They were going home. What else mattered?’
Various presentations began, including medals to Helena and Alois, all in one of the Rann languages, in recognition of duties performed in the current operation. Finally, it stopped, and the admiral turned to Astral-La, Venetia and Jalaal. Two Blues appeared and escorted them onto the stage. The admiral was now speaking in Standard. ‘Astral-La, Venetia and Jalaal (he spoke these names with difficulty) we award you medals of Honour for Bravery and Endurance in the face of continuous opposition.’ There was much clapping, thumping the floor, and several Rann rose to their feet.
The auditorium fell silent and Flower-of-Sands knew that she was being overlooked as punishment for her actions in exposing the Rann’s op on Planet X. She realized that she must accept her fate. Her only fear was that she would lose the respect of Daff and Wanda, that they would see her as a failure and asked to be parented by someone else. She decided on a brave face. Later, in the privacy of her room, she would cry. She stole a look at Daff and Wanda and was surprised to see that they looked happy. She sighed and struggled against tears. Already, they saw her as dispensable, no doubt some exciting Rann female had stolen their interests, fascinating them with stories of war and adventure.
The lights dimmed and a fanfare sounded. It was raucous and loud and a fitting tribute to Flower-of-Sands’ humiliation.
The admiral roared, ‘Finally, for valour, sacrifice and heroism beyond the call of duty, and for bravery in defiance of overwhelming odds, we present the Rann Cross of Valour to one of the Confederacy of Liberated Worlds, ambassador for exploration and discovery, and an honorary member of the Rann race …
There was silence.
‘Flower-of-Sands!’
It felt like an electric current had severed her in half. Hardly able to stand, she slowly rose from her seat – looking about disbelieving, astonished, struck dumb. She looked over to Daff who was preening himself with pride. Then she knew it was true. The place was deadly quiet as she stumbled up onto the stage, her face lit as if in a dream, her eyes on stalks as if surprise had claimed them forever.
The admiral placed around her neck a gold chain from which hung a large diamond shaped medal. Numerous incantations and procedures followed, which she could hardly register. Then the auditorium erupted and every Rann stood and saluted her. She was a hero, even if she didn’t feel like one.
She slowly went back and collapsed as gracefully as possible into her seat, smiling blankly at those around her, in shock, and barely registering the admiral’s final speech.
When it was all over, she looked over to her friends, hoping that finally they could socialize, but before she could approach them, two Rann guards appeared.
One of them, a tall willowy female Blue, addressed her politely, but with a tone that made it clear that disobedience was not an option.
‘The admiral’s security officer wishes to speak with you. You must come now. Later, you may see the children and your friends.’
&n
bsp; Mouthing apologies to Daff and Wanda and the others, she followed the Rann guards through a maze of towering Rann bodies to a shuttle bay. Why a shuttle bay? This surprised her. Was she to leave the ship?
‘Are we leaving the ship?’
‘The secretary wishes to speak with you. He is stationed on a ship nearby.’ The Rann Blue paused and displayed what could have been an expression of humour, or perhaps humour in embryonic stage, waiting to flower. Who knows, Flower-of-Sands thought. Rann did not do humour. They were aliens with a different mind-set. They seemed the same, and in many respects, they were, but there were vast differences – differences that could cause incredible misunderstandings – as she knew from experience.
‘The secretary is permanently busy and requires us to visit him,’ the Blue flashed brilliant white teeth. ‘And there are other reasons.’
‘Oh?’ Flower-of-Sands waited for a clarification, but none came.
After an uneventful and short journey, she emerged through an airlock into a hi-tech spaceship of a different design to the one she had previously been on – smaller, compact, with staff in violet and gold uniforms. Everything seemed hushed. There was no bustle or urgency, yet she had an underlying feeling that her slightest move, even slightest thought, was being scrutinized.
They boarded a sled that smoothly sped across ceilings, walls, and down passages, and soon she was walking into an open plan area where the Rann equivalent of nerds and tech guys calmly worked at hologram and AI stations. No one looked up, although she could feel them watching her – probably through some form of surveillance.
Her guide showed her into a spacious but unostentatious office. Before her was a table on which were placed computer and hologram installations. Simplicity seemed to be the main thrust. She liked it, although she was nervous and bemused by the whole thing. The surroundings belied the procedure, which seemed elaborate and circumspect – but then, she guessed, it was military, and Rann; she had no real idea how the Rann mind worked, despite her experiences with Jet.
Three individuals faced her. Two were Rann – one a female Green, the other a high ranking Rann officer, who looked disturbingly like Captain Siliceous who had interviewed her a lifetime ago in the Large Magellanic Cloud. It was a discouraging sign. He had disapproved of her then. Now, it seemed his disapproval was renewing itself with unrelenting fury. The female Green seemed amiable enough and waved her to an austere seat facing the three inquisitors – at least, ‘inquisitors’ was how it felt.
Flower-of-Sands: The Extraordinary Adventures of a Female Astronaut (Seriously Intergalactic Book 1) Page 35
