Shalia's Diary Book 12

by Tracy St. John

  In our undercover getaway vehicle, we flew to the major spaceport. More clandestine sneaking ensued, with the five of us taken within a hover carrier loaded with supplies to the ship destined for a prison colony. The whole thing was so cloak-and-dagger, I began to feel ridiculous. If Nang was keeping up, he deserved an award.

  At last, we boarded the prisoner transport. As Breft had promised, we shared it with six stasis chambers, in which convicts had been placed. Besides us were two pilots and four armed guards. I guess the guards were required in case the chambers failed for some reason, allowing the prisoners to get loose. It wasn’t the most reassuring notion to have, but as I eyed the stacked stasis pods uncomfortably, one of the guards told me there hadn’t been such an incident in over a dozen years.

  With that matter explained to my satisfaction, I joined my clan in watching the window vids. The guys might have been doing what I was; scanning the launchways for any sign of Nang. Surveillance was supposed to be tight throughout the facility, in case he’d managed to follow us this far.

  At Global Security headquarters, Breft had told us, “There will be no record of the prison transport diverting to Lobam to drop you off. No mention of the plan has been noted anywhere. Logs will show the prison ship going straight to the camp, landing on schedule, and returning to Kalquor on schedule. Nang will have no means of knowing anything different occurred.”

  I have to say, Breft did quite the job of covering our escape. So why was I still expecting Nang to charge across the launching area?

  He didn’t. The shuttle lifted off, and we were on our way for our overnight flight to Lobam without any sign of my stalker. We were free. Safe.

  The weight of the last few days fell off my clanmates. I was as abruptly relaxed and happy as they were. I felt younger, giddy like a schoolgirl. It was wonderful. Wonderful!

  The guard in charge, Nobek Vuko, showed us one of two cabins for the use of the pilot, co-pilot, and guards when they weren’t on duty. “I’m afraid it’s not luxury accommodations, Dramok Seot,” he said, his gruff voice apologetic.

  It was cramped with three bunks attached to the wall, open shelving for belongings, a small shower, small table and two chairs. Plus a cooler with pre-packaged food and water for our comfort, and a miniscule cooker. The attached lavatory had the tiniest, most basic toilet facility and sink imaginable. But my delighted mood saw only the good. I crowed with delight to spy the crib in the corner, complete with a soft mattress, clean linens, and several stuffed animals. “Look, Anrel! A nice bed all for you, sweetie!”

  She shrieked with delight and held out her chubby hands for the blue kestarsh plushie. She yelled her version of the word mine. “My, my, my, my!” I laughed and sat her in the crib to let her claim her prizes.

  I beamed at Officer Vuko, whose rough face was in danger of being taken over by a grin. He waved off my thanks. “It was Supervisor Breft’s doing, Matara. He has children himself, so I expect he knew this would be helpful.”

  “I will be certain to thank him,” I said.

  Vuko told us to let him know if we required anything else and wished us a goodnight. The door shut behind him, leaving our family alone in our quarters.

  Cifa laughed. “We’re going to be knocking into each other with every step. Our smallest closet is bigger than this!”

  “I’m grateful all the same,” I asserted. “We got away from Nang. You could have packed me in a seed carrier from Haven, and I would have taken it.”

  “No kidding.” Larten was more his old self than ever. “I can live with this. But the sleeping accommodations are tight.”

  “I can sleep in the chair,” Seot decided.

  “You can snuggle in with me,” I said, testing out the lowest bunk. The others could climb the ladder to the other two bunks. I patted the mat. “My Dramok, you’re the smallest of my mates. We’ll be crowded, but I can’t get close enough to you anyway.”

  Seot grinned and slid onto the mat with me. We snickered as we tangled legs and crushed hard against each other, trying to be comfortable. “Ancestors, what do they do with guards the size of Nobek Raxstad? My ass is sticking out into the air.”

  “The better for me to kick, my dear,” Larten said in a growl. I’d taught him the story of Little Red Riding Hood so he could tell it to Anrel. He does the wolf voice so perfectly, and that was how he spoke then, much to my loud amusement.

  It was a testament to how relieved we were that the next two hours was filled with such laughter. We kept Anrel up late too, playing and enjoying our new lease on life. We finally let her rest when she became cranky with us.

  I slept with no nightmares to haunt me, my Dramok holding me tight. I didn’t wake until hours later, when Nobek Vuko called at the door to tell us we were in orbit around Lobam.

  March 31

  I had the opportunity to freshen up and change the clothes I’d slept in before we landed in one of the spaceports on Lobam. Located in the Besyu District of the colonized moon, it was far from the urbane setting of Kalquor’s capital city.

  I already had an idea of what to expect from Larten. A lot of the Besyu District is arid desert. With temperatures that can literally boil a person’s blood, nobody inhabits the center of this harsh land.

  However, the outskirts of the desert are more temperate and livable, even at noon. The arid landscape gives way to plains, then woodlands at the verge of an ocean. Larten’s parents lived in the woodlands, about ten miles from the sea.

  The spaceport was where the plains started to turn into desert. It was hot as the blazes when we got out of the prisoner transport. So much for my change of clothes. They hung damp on me.

  Anrel scrunched up her face despite the large, floppy hat I’d put on her. She squawked a displeased sound, so I guess the heat didn’t agree with her either.

  “I remember now why we never visit in the spring or summer,” Cifa said. “Let’s get inside the terminal before we melt.”

  A yell grabbed our attention. We glanced at two men by a large, older shuttle. I wouldn’t have called the vessel dilapidated, but it had logged its share of miles.

  One of our greeters was waving. “I recognize the shuttle,” Larten said. “It belongs to my parent clan. Those must be the bodyguards Breft assigned us.”

  Nobek Vuko had disembarked with us, as did a couple of the other guards. I guess they wanted to be positive Nang hadn’t landed on Lobam ahead of us, though every precaution had been taken to keep him from discovering we’d left, much less where we’d gone. “I know that man. He used to work with my father, years ago. Hatzeg, what are you doing out here?”

  We met with our new best buddies halfway between the shuttles, the heat making their features shimmer. The Nobeks were old warhorses, all right, powerful despite their graying heads and creased visages. Their bared arms and legs were more scars than skin. Though neither appeared similar to my former lover Oses, they had his demeanor—stoic and self-assured. I liked them on sight.

  The bigger was Hatzeg, and he gave Vuko a checkerboard grin, three of his teeth having absented themselves at some point in his life. “Look at this young pup. almost as pretty as a boy in his first year of training camp.”

  “Ha! You can’t see the best of my scars hiding under my formsuit. But wait—let me show you this. It’s my least impressive mark of honor.” Vuko raised his arm to display a long, jagged disfigurement from his armpit to his elbow.

  “Not bad, not bad. How’s your father Jel?”

  The other Nobek waiting with Hatzeg snorted and bowed to my clan. He possessed all his teeth. “Excuse the delay, Dramok Seot. I am Nobek Tiron. Let’s get you boarded and out of this heat.”

  Seot chuckled as Hatzeg and Vuko muttered apologies for letting camaraderie interrupt duty. They had another couple of minutes to trade quick stories as my clan and our belongings were loaded into the shuttle.

  At first glance, the interior, like the outside of the craft, wasn’t much to look at. My initial impression became more generous
when I noted the typical seating had been replaced by durable but softer seating cushions. They had been constructed from patchwork pieces of strong fabric, and I appreciated the colorful charm. The shuttle was sizable, and I later found out it had started life as a moon-bound ground troop transport. Larten’s parents had scored it at a surplus auction decades ago.

  They’d converted it to not only have bench-style seating that ran along the sides of the hull, but also a nice dining space, all repurposed, repaired, and re-done from home furnishings. The kitchenette and bathroom had older fixtures and appliances, but everything was perfectly functional. A clan could have made a home out of it.

  Best of all, it was blessedly cool. Whew! I thought Georgia was hot. Besyu was a whole other level of scorching.

  The shuttle had been left idling. The engines were louder than what I was used to. Seot and Larten gave each other significant glances.

  “First order of business,” Seot chuckled.

  “Work on the shuttle’s engines,” our Nobek sighed. “Unless something more pressing is happening with the home itself.”

  Cifa snickered at my curious expression. “Because Larten’s parent clan is determined to use materials until they are beyond redemption—”

  “Even then, they keep using them,” Larten muttered.

  “—repairs to various mechanical items are ongoing,” Cifa finished.

  “Oh. Fun,” was my sarcastic assessment. I worried that our hideout might fall down around our ears as we tried to stay out of sight.

  “Don’t worry. My parents have been living sustainably for so long, there is almost always an alternate to whatever has broken down.” Larten was his most reassuring.

  I stifled a groan. At least my survival skills would be enhanced by the end of this trip.

  We soon took off, racing away from the blistering border between desert and grasslands. Since the shuttle flew smoothly, I adjusted to its blatting.

  We had an hour to watch the plain roll beneath us. Hatzeg and Tiron told us about the protective security barrier they’d set up around Clan Denkar’s homestead. “We take turns patrolling it each day,” Hatzeg laughed through his gap-teeth. “Nobek Larten’s parent clan’s power grid fluctuates enough that we have to reset the sensors on a regular basis.”

  Cifa crooked an eyebrow at Larten. “Property power grid enhancement, then shuttle repair.”

  “The list will only get longer,” Larten snorted.

  Tiron added, “Livestock gets through the inner perimeter at least twice a week too, setting off the barrier’s sensors. We use those instances to drill on response times.”

  If Nang got it in his head to check out parental properties in hopes of catching up with us, he’d scratch Larten’s parent clan’s off immediately. It sounded like we were in for some rough, frontier-type living. He wouldn’t figure on me going to such a location, even to hide from him.

  If Nang ever did catch up to me, I’d punch him in the dicks for putting me through this Wild West nightmare.

  Yet I couldn’t help but appreciate the woodlands when they appeared. I’d been impressed by the multicolored trees on Kalquor, but Besyu’s forests were amazing too. The foliage appeared dipped in precious metals. Bronze, copper, gold… the astounding hues were amazing as they slipped beneath the shuttle. Had our sanctuary been based on looks alone, I’d have been a lot more optimistic about the stay.

  My clanmates had given me cause to fear the worse, however. When the ocean appeared on the horizon and the shuttle dropped towards a large clearing a few minutes later, I can be forgiven for my shock upon spying the beautiful freestanding house and outbuildings that awaited us. More amazing was to find these structures had all the appearance and charm of fairytale buildings when seen up close.

  The roofs were black shimmering mirrors from the solar collecting panels placed there. That was the only detail that robbed the buildings of pure enchantment. Otherwise, they were as magical as any child ever dreamed a make-believe world could be.

  Clan Denkar had built their house, stables, and shuttle storage barn from the surrounding trees. The wood itself was as eye-catching as the leaves that had once adorned the crowns of the timber. Where it hadn’t been painted or stained, it was striped brown, white, and black. The natural pattern was fabulous all on its own, and I wouldn’t have thought of enhancing any plank or log any further.

  Clan Denkar had. Not just master builders, but craftsmen to their very core, they had carved that gorgeous wood into more gorgeous reliefs. Faces of men, women, and animals competed for space with flowers and abstract patterns that never came across as haphazard for all their differences in shapes and styles. I was so enthralled by the sheer artistry that I had little trouble ignoring the three large piles of machine parts and other assorted bits that had been furniture, appliances, and whatnot. Those heaps rose like small mountains behind the shuttle barn, and I made a dim mental note to myself to make sure Anrel didn’t wander that way.

  Equally unimportant to me were the long-legged flock of swalla, the fat and wobbly pilchok that perched everywhere that was off the ground, and the five massive ronka that lumbered sleepy-eyed wherever they wished, including the lush garden plots planted haphazardly all over the place. One of the buffalo-sized beasts busied itself by scratching its ass against the corner of the house, concerning me that it might knock the amazing structure over.

  We set down in front of the barn. Tiron was first out the hatch, having a glance around before the rest of us disembarked.

  Seot and I stepped out, with Larten and Cifa carrying Anrel, close behind. Hatzeg brought up the rear and warned off the ronka nearby. “I wouldn’t mind some steak, so back off until I stow this deathtrap.”

  Ronka are as dumb as the day is long, but that furry mountain was smart enough to decipher the Nobek’s tone, if not his words. It lumbered off.

  “Lead on,” Seot invited Larten. I thought he was being nice to let Larten greet his parents first until he added, “Mind the landmines.”

  “Shit mountain, dead ahead,” Tiron reported cheerfully. “As far as the eye can see, piles of shit, shit, and more shit.”

  “Language!” Cifa barked. The next instant, Anrel yelled, “Shit!” Loud and clear. Plain as day.

  Tiron slapped his hand over his mouth, staring horrified at my glaring Imdiko. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—I’m so very sorry.”

  All at once, I was hit by the goofy stick. The stress of the last few days…our secret flight to get away…the idea that we were going to be living as scavengers, scrounging for our food, wearing skins for clothes—boom. At least my emotions swung to the hilarious rather than depression or more of the helpless outrage that had been dogging me.

  Ancestors and prophets, did I laugh at my daughter’s sweet, cheerful voice calling out that profanity. A moment later, Seot, Larten, and Hatzeg joined in. Cifa was last after a short war between anger and surprise. He started to chuckle, then howl. We all did, except for Tiron, who seemed ready to crawl under a rock. Or a pile of dung. He was so embarrassed to have inspired my baby’s descent into potty mouth.

  Fortunately, Anrel had no idea what had us in stitches, so there wasn’t a repeat performance. She laughed along with us, as she always did.

  The sight of four people rounding the house and heading for us stilled my guffaws. I’d met Larten’s parent clan via vid com, so they were familiar to me by sight.

  Dramok Denkar led the group, as was typical for the leader of the clan. He was the eldest, but not really that old. There was no sign of gray in his hair, and the only creases I saw on his face were those that came from smiling and perhaps squinting. He and the rest wore their hair pulled back, though his coarse, wavy tresses had rebelled. Quite a few tendrils had escaped to frame his heavy-jawed features.

  Matara Gilsa was the female version of Larten. She had a tinge of his dangerous aura, a woman with a Nobek attitude. I’d heard she could outdrink her clanmates and was as handy with a blaster as a war veteran. She�
�d been delighted to learn I had trained to fight. At a distance, I could sense her strength and will.

  Imdiko Iramas was the low-key, hippie type I thought someone who lived in touch with nature should be. His whole demeanor was so laid back, even his eyelids drooped sleepily. He approached at the rear of the clan, his slow steps leaving him farther and farther behind. He smiled dreamily, as if the whole world was a pleasant interlude. I couldn’t imagine him ever getting angry. Larten said he witnessed only two occasions when he saw any temper from Iramas, and that it had been shocking. “It’s so out of place for him, that I could never forget it.”

  Nobek Barun was the exact opposite, the reason I half-expected our visit to be a survivalist nightmare. He was in habit of leaving his clan’s almost-zero consumption lifestyle for a month each year to live rough in the wild, eating only what he could hunt or forage and building shelter from whatever he found in his natural habitat. Hardcore, that guy. Larten had stories of Barun returning home half-starved because of poor game or wounded from encounters with fierce predators.