Lindin was reminded of the “laptop” brought by Jessica. It contained a wealth of information on the Earth agency and the data they gathered on the Icon.
“I would say not much larger than the mass of a Skull Boy to be safe,” Agnet surmised.
Lindin began to formulate an idea.
“Get me all the information from the computer device,” he ordered. “And the interviews with both girls.”
Agnet nodded. Lindin turned and started off toward the exit, heading back to his quarters.
Once word of this got to his superiors there was no telling what hell he would have to pay.
But … he did have one Icon. And that one went where Jessica was almost certainly headed.
Earth.
There had to be a way.
This was not over yet.
CHAPTER 10: HOME
Kang stood at the wide viewscreen boring holes into space, catching himself each time his fists clinched in anger—withholding the force that might so easily crush the Icon. He looked down at it, held tightly in his hands. The aliens had been useless in those final moments, more concerned with him and what he was doing than with stopping the escape of Horus. Now they sat frozen, staring at him with their blank expressions, though he noted a few continued to analyze information in earnest at a console.
He had the vague feeling they were analyzing him.
He could activate the Icon. He turned it over in his grip, wondering how exactly that was done. If he could figure that out he could use it; go back to Anitra and find Horus. He had no doubt that was where the other ship took him. Back on Anitra he, the mighty Kang, could continue his rise to destiny, assuming his place as Emperor of the entire world. Horus might be safe in that other starship, for a spell, but he would have to come out at some point, would have to face Kang, and when he did … this time Kang would forgo the sport of it. He would go right for his neck.
But using the Icon in that way, impulsively, would be foolish. A limited view. There was monumental opportunity right here, aboard this alien craft, in this other star system. If he could but figure out a way to capitalize on it. This ship, and the others no doubt commanded by these aliens—for there had to be others … that was the future. Not a return to Anitra and the path he’d been on. Here was the path to true power, to command of an army that could conquer the stars. Not just one world.
Many worlds.
He exhaled. The starship that came for Horus, whatever and however it was, could not represent a larger force. There was just no way. The Venatres had clearly been hiding it. And it had to be the Venatres. They knew to come for Horus; he was the object of their effort, the purpose for their being there. If they had more than one of those ships then, surely, they would already have unleashed conquest of their own, subjugating the Dominion and bringing the entirety of Anitra to heel.
No, that ship had to be some sort of experiment. A proof of concept that actually worked. Something so advanced would’ve been known of otherwise. Would’ve been impossible to hide. The fact that the Venatres had only used it just now, to rescue Horus, was evidence enough. Before that they must’ve been working on it, waiting for the right moment to test.
There were other, possible explanations. A million possible explanations. It mattered little. Whether the ship was indeed Venatres or something else, the fact was if he went back to Anitra now he would be right back where he started.
But these aliens—and Kang looked around the bridge now, at their curious, expectant faces; elvish warriors each of them, fearsome to behold, nothing more than ants to him—these aliens held real power. As yet he had no confirmation of it, but he had no doubt this ship was not alone. It must be a component of a much greater armada. If he could tap that, control it, unleash it …
He could begin a reign so great, so vast … the Empire of Anitra would pale in comparison.
It was folly not to figure a way to make that happen.
And so using the Icon now, in his rage, was not an option. Could not be. Doing so would end that dream. He rolled it around in his grip. As long as he held it, as long as he remained aboard this alien warcraft, the larger plan held hope.
Perhaps the aliens would be smart enough to understand it. The Icon. Perhaps, if so, they might even be able to divine from it the location of Anitra. Could these ships travel the way the other one just did? Could they pop between locations? If so perhaps he might follow. Aboard a starship of his own. At the head of an entire fleet. Go after Horus and Anitra and go after all worlds.
Yes.
These thoughts began to take shape; to mold the core of new ambition. Such ability to travel, at the helm of such power, to pop in and out of existence, must open up all manner of possibilities.
He must find a way to command.
“This,” he held up the Icon for all to see, drawing their attention, “can do that.” He pointed with his other hand at the screen, to the point in space where the other craft just disappeared. He mimicked using the Icon, then made a sort of “poof” motion, as if to simulate the fact that the device would make the user disappear, just as the other ship had. He made the motions a few more times. When it seemed they had the concept, vaguely, at least, he added: “This,” and he pointed again to the device, then to the floor, the walls—indicating, he hoped, their own ship, “can make your ship disappear. Go where that one went.” And now he undertook an elaborate series of gestures, speaking slowly: “This makes the ship disappear, follows the other ship, reappears where it went.” Most simply stared at him and he began to feel stupid—the concept he tried to communicate was too much, and he wasn’t even sure it was correct—but those same few continued working in earnest at the console, only seeming to grow more interested as he spoke, not less. He wondered what they were so desperately trying to figure out.
And as he made a few more gestures he again had the thought: How much could the Icon transfer? It transferred he and Horus. Would it move the whole ship? Would it take whatever he was in contact with? He was fairly confident it would take only him if he twisted it now. However, what if it were strapped to the bridge? Would it only take the parts it was in contact with? Would it take the whole ship?
“How?” came a question from one of the consoles, where the aliens worked, heads down and concentrating.
“I don’t know,” Kang shook his horned head. “That’s the point.” Then: “How what?” and it hit him, in one mind-expanding flash. The voice was artificial. It had come not from the alien crewmen but, rather, from the console itself, and, more than that—so, so much more …
It was in English.
The computer voice expounded. “How can it be as you say?”
Kang’s eyes were wide. Astonished. Suddenly so astonished he couldn’t speak. His own words of a second ago echoed in his head. His answer to their question, spoken on impulse, in that instant between instants before his mind processed the fact that:
They’re speaking my language!
He stood mute. All the elfin warriors had stopped what they were doing and were looking to him. Waiting. Keen, it seemed, to hear what he might say in response. Confident they’d managed to communicate something he understood.
He chuckled. Could not control it. The cackle came and it was some time before he was able to stuff it back down and form a simple sentence:
“With your knowledge,” he said carefully to his waiting audience, absolutely filling with glee, “with your technology we will discover how.”
Blank faces as they listened to what must be a translation of his words, then a response:
“Our technology can make it so?”
Again Kang held back a joyous laugh.
“Yes,” he said. “Your technology can make it so.”
The last barrier was gone.
Already he had the physical strength to subjugate them. Now, with language, he could tell them exactly what would be done. He could relate plans, vision. Learn their secrets.
He could lead an army.
The likes of which Anitra had never seen.
He threw back his head and let the laugh consume him.
* *
“Lay him there,” Nani entered the Kel infirmary, pointing to one of the three beds in the small room. The door hissed aside briskly as they entered—just like the doors in any good sci-fi movie—the room that same glossy black as the rest of the Reaver; slick panels on every surface, purple neon tracing patterns around the edges. Too perfect, too clean. Jess helped Satori and Willet carry Zac to one of the beds. “Beds” that were really just molded ledges protruding from the walls, about the length of normal beds with a perfectly shaped pillow and what appeared to be soft mattresses with no sheets. Stark like the rest of the ship, projecting that same no-frills sterility. At the center of the room was a curved desk with more controls, lit with Kel glyphs and glowing graphics.
Nani helped and together they lifted and positioned the heavy Zac. Jess adjusted his head on the pillow and the others stepped back as Nani went to the central console and began tapping controls. Bianca had remained on the bridge, so it was just the four of them, plus Zac. With a quiet hum another ledge extended overhead, above him, with what appeared to be sensors or other objects that activated and bathed him in colored light. Jess moved away.
“We were never able to learn much about the Kazerai,” Nani said as she worked, reading the information that began flowing in. “But if they’re under enough trauma they can shut down. That seems to be what happened.”
Jess glanced across to Nani.
“The good news is he’s alive,” she studied readings. “Very much so, it appears. Most of these metrics are off the charts.” Then: “This is fascinating. Our medical experts studied Zac when he joined our side. I read some of the reports. Obviously we tried to learn everything we could, since he was the only Kazerai we ever had access to.”
Jess swallowed her emotion. Her feelings were crazy all over the place. Joy that Zac was here—we found you!—to fear he was in a coma from which he might never awake, or that he might never be the same if he did and every other possibility between. What if he had amnesia again? What if he didn’t know who she was? So handsome lying there under the lights, so strong, so perfect and so hers, so safe and out of harm’s way, with a future that could not have been more uncertain. Hers, his … nothing to cling to. Like a terrible freefall, hand-in-hand, she and her true love, together yet …
Totally, utterly apart.
The sudden threat of a meltdown gripped her.
“What did they learn?” she managed. “When they studied him?”
Nani shrugged. “Basically what we already knew. That the Kazerai are impossibly strong. Probably indestructible.”
Only, thought Jess, Kang killed three. She couldn’t believe Kang didn’t kill him too. Was Zac stronger than the others? Had his will just been greater? When she found him in the park it looked like he was done. Like Kang had already killed him. Maybe she’d come right before the killing blow. Prevented it somehow. All she knew was that Zac broke free and came to her, found within him the strength—from whatever source—to rise, to cast off his would-be killer, take the Icon and heave both him and Kang into deep space.
Behind her Nani shut off the scanning device. The overhead ledge slid back into its recess.
Jess turned. “Will he be okay?”
“Everything is what I expect to see. Of course, with this equipment and my limited knowledge of his specific physiology it’s hard to say. Still, it seems he’s just in some sort of coma, like we suspected.”
“When will he wake up?” Though she knew there would be no way to know.
There wasn’t.
“Not sure,” Nani looked to the others, worried, it seemed, she wasn’t giving the right answers. Clearly she didn’t want to upset Jess.
Jess turned her attention to Zac.
“Can I have a moment?”
The small group hesitated only briefly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Willet and Satori turn, heard them go with Nani, heard the door hiss open, hiss closed as they left and they were gone. Leaving the room in silence.
There were no beeping monitors. No clicks or steady sounds of respirators or other devices. None of the expected hospital-type noises. In fact the small infirmary was deathly quiet, like a tomb, and as her ears adjusted all she could hear was Zac’s steady breathing. That and the beating of her own heart.
Wake up. She willed him. It seemed more like he was in a trance, not a coma. He looked totally fine. Even the small cuts and bruises were starting to heal, looking like they were already days old. His skin was flush, breathing steady. Everything about him was just like it had been, as perfect as in his most perfect moment.
She began arranging his arms, wanting to do something, anything, then his legs, so they were as straight as possible. Sturdy, heavy limbs. First a little this way, then that way, feeling silly after a while and stopping. She pulled off his boots. Comfort hardly seemed to matter. None of that mattered. For a long moment she looked up and down the length of him. Tentatively she reached a hand and laid it on his bare chest. So warm. The beat of his heart was strong. Everything about him seemed entirely human. He is human, she told herself. Despite any super-human abilities he was, at the core of it, human. He was a man. Had been fully human once, before the transformation to Kazerai.
She shuddered but kept her hand pressed against him. His eyelids seemed barely closed. As if they might flutter open at any instant.
I love you. She thought the words that were, at times, so hard to say. I love you! she imagined more forcefully, letting herself go; feeling that emotion so powerfully it made her buzz. It was complete, and as the power of the moment washed over her she felt the heat of little tears stinging her eyes.
She leaned over his face. At first with the idea to kiss him, maybe on the forehead, like a mother kissing a child, then, as she bent closer … with the fleeting image of a fairytale. Maybe her kiss would break the spell. And with that ridiculous notion floating through her mind, along with a certain giddiness to be kissing him in such a state, she touched her lips to his. Gently, and the sensation was magical. She pressed harder, tasting the salt of a few of her tears as they fell, a sense of despair washing over her as she lingered, imagining she might actually do it, might actually wake him with nothing more than the magic of her love … but as she pulled away, slowly, staying close to his soft lips, expectant …
Nothing.
He remained as he was.
Of course he did. This was no fairytale. It was a fantastic, incredible tale—utterly fantastic—but it was no fairytale.
She watched him. How long she didn’t know, but at length she ran a hand through his hair, gave him one last kiss and left the room.
Back out in the halls she found her way to the bridge. Again she felt that panicked, closed-in sensation; less from the terror of being in a confined space in the middle of the void, or even from being alone in the alien passageway, more from the impossible alienness of the Kel technology itself.
Soon she was entering the bridge and found Satori with Nani looking over screens of information. Bianca and Willet stood at the viewscreen, gazing out. Bianca turned to her, filled with wonder.
“Look,” she enthused.
Unnecessary, as Jessica’s full attention was already locked to the dominant image on the video dome.
Earth.
Curving across the breadth of the screen, bottom edge to bottom edge, blue/white crescent—lots of blue—peppered with brown and green and layered in clouds.
Slowly she moved toward it, drawn to it, the rest of her surroundings fading. Emotions of just moments ago fluttered away, forgotten for the moment in the face of this, her home, spread before her in all its majesty. Only as she felt Bianca squeeze her arm did she realize she’d come closer at all, and that she now stood beside her friend directly up against the screen.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Bianca breathed more than spoke. The hemisphere they looked
at was clouded over and not much could be seen, most of it in daylight, the line of night approaching at the far edge. Was the sun going the right way? For a disorienting moment Jess struggled to gain her bearings.
“Which side are we on?” she asked.
“That’s Madagascar,” Bianca touched the image. The clarity of the screen was such that it appeared to have actual depth, as if they peered out a real window, and only as Bianca touched it did the illusion collapse. “We’re flipped over,” she said. “There’s the south pole.” Jess followed her outstretched finger, to the top of the image, recognizing Antarctica. They were in an inverted orbit.
“We didn’t come out over the house?” she stood transfixed, seeing now the eastern edge of Africa and feeling, so used to looking at the globe with the north side “up”, the strange sensation of hanging upside down. Vertigo tingled.
“I used the location pair for the second Icon,” said Nani, voice at first distant across the small room. “Figuring that’s where Kang would go. It appears over the mountains you call the Rockies, so the QE drive bounced us. It has a non-interference filter that restricts movement near massive objects. It brought us out at a safe distance. I’ve just moved us up to this location. Right now I’m trying to build a passive model of your world.” Jess pulled her eyes from the screen, glancing back at Nani who worked intently as she spoke: “You have a very complex communications backbone. More so than Anitra. Way more.” Nani shook her blonde head. “Lots of active systems looking, listening. It’s like we flew into a web of sensors, some coordinated, most not. Our countermeasures are contending, I think, but so far I’m trying to lay low. At least until I have a better gauge of what we’re up against.”
“You think anyone sees us?”
Nani shrugged, eyes glued to her console. “Maybe.”
Star Angel: Dawn of War (Star Angel Book 3) Page 10
