Trapped On Talonque: (A Sectors SF romance)

by Veronica Scott

  “Fine, glorious, ecstatic!” She threw her arms wide and did a graceful spin in the sand, braids twirling, then stopped and tipped her head, staring at the heavens. “Do you realize this is the first time I’ve been able to see the stars in thousands of years? Just deciding to stand and go for a walk—even under Thom’s watchful eyes—was such a luxury.”

  Nate assessed the sky, now partially obscured by the clouds of the coming storm, and then her face, set in a more serious expression than her cheerful words implied. “But?” he prompted reluctantly.

  “I don’t recognize any of those constellations. The realization of how long I’ve been locked in stasis, asleep, and how much the universe must have changed terrifies me. When we were still within the confines of my father’s research station, I pretended it hadn’t been so long, hoped my own people might come back for me, you know? Or—be there, somewhere, waiting for me.” Rubbing her arms, she said, “Do I sound crazy?”

  “Not at all.” Her meaning was clear to him, and he considered her attitude a normal response to the extreme situation. The human mind—and her people seemed to be another humanoid race like those unaccountably found throughout the Sectors—was tenacious about insulating itself from shock or trauma. At harboring hope against hope to keep people going. “Regrets?”

  She looked him full in the face then, shaking her head emphatically. “None. I knew what I was doing. I made the right choice—I chose you and life.” Reaching out with one hand, she drew him closer. “Being here, free to think and to be by myself without constraint, reinforces that knowledge. The old life is gone. I’ll have a new life and I’ll be fine. As long as you’re there.”

  He heard the implied question in her tone. Squeezing her hand, he leaned over to give her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Always.”

  A genuine, confident smile was his reward. Bithia’s eyes glowed with her happiness. “Which is why I decided the way I did.”

  “I think you have to expect to go through a mourning process,” he said. “I’m no expert—when we get home to the Sectors, I know some people who might be able to help, good people we can trust, who won’t raise an eyebrow over who you are or your story. You’ve lost so much, not only your father, but your whole civilization. How can you avoid suffering an emotional impact?”

  She knelt in the sand for a moment, prying a colorful shell loose from a clump of drifted seaweed. “It actually happened long ago, while I slept.” Rising with the delicate shell resting on her palm, she tilted her head, studying his face in the moonlight.

  “Doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “You told me yourself while you were in the healing device that you could avoid dealing with the realities. And for all practical purposes, it’s only been a few days for you since you last were with your father and friends, no matter the real time elapsed. I get it.”

  “Being awakened as I was confuses things,” she said. “The machine tried to suppress my emotions and fear each time I was summoned to prophesy and realized yet again how much time must be passing. But I have those memories. You can’t imagine how it feels to wake, thinking you’ve only been asleep a few moments, and be confronted with people generations removed from the last person you spoke with.” Bithia rubbed her temple. “It’s disorienting, terrifying. And now I have to deal with all of it.” She gestured at the starry sky. “I can’t deny the truth.”

  “Don’t try. I’ll be more worried if you don’t let yourself process your emotions and grieve your losses. Just know I’m here for you, anything you need, always available to listen. I’ll do my damnedest to help.”

  He stood arm in arm with her for a few more moments, watching the waves roll gently in and wash the sand in retreat a moment later. The tide was ebbing. Miniature night birds ran along the edge of the foamy seawater, dipping their beaks gracefully in search of tiny, luminescent prey. The avian hunters ignored Nate and Bithia, pattering between their feet and going on, untroubled.

  He came to a decision.

  “Remember when you and I were debating, before you let me turn the device off, you asked me what I was keeping from you?”

  She sighed heavily, not lifting her attention from the tiny birds darting in and out of the surf. “I knew there was something. Do I want to hear this?”

  Knowing she’d let him keep silent if he so chose, he wasn’t comfortable building mental blocks, having secrets from her. Their mind-to-mind link was a rare and precious aspect of the relationship he hoped he was building with her, so he felt compelled to be as open as possible. He spied a large, gnarly tree trunk washed up by a long-ago storm and smoothed by the successive pounding of waves until it resembled a fantastic architect’s version of a bench. Taking Bithia by the hand, carrying the blanket across his other arm, Nate led her down the beach a few yards. He settled her on the broad tree trunk, wrapped the soft fabric more closely at her shoulders and sat beside her.

  “Thank you.” Bithia adjusted the blanket a bit and pulled her feet under her on the smooth surface of the driftwood bench. She gazed peacefully at the ocean again, content to wait to see if he decided to continue the conversation.

  Hating to intrude on the serenity of the moment, but having decided to be honest with her, Nate launched into his revelation. “I believe there was at least one previous attempt to rescue you, but the effort met with disaster.”

  Waiting for the whole story, she maintained her silence.

  “When Thom and I explored the storehouse, searching for the red box, we found it underneath a corpse. He’d been shot in the back—by one of the weapons we’re using now, in fact. The person died shielding the all-important box.”

  She gasped, hand to her mouth, eyes widening in shock.

  Nate continued the tale. “There were at least three people in the warehouse, because the apparent murderer of the first man was also killed with the same kind of weapon. Ambushed by someone else. And however many people there were, they had to be from offplanet, because no local can stay conscious in the warehouse. We found no sign of the third person, so he and his companions, if any, apparently got away.”

  “How long?”

  He shook his head. “There was no way to know when these people made their incursion. I believe the group was from your home planet, because the weapons are inscribed with symbols matching ones I found in your father’s warehouse.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Her tone was less upset than he had feared, calmer and more detached.

  “I was afraid if I told you in the healing chamber, you wouldn’t want to deal with it. I was afraid you’d use their deaths as your final excuse to take the easy way out and choose death yourself.” Nate kept his focus on her lavender-blue eyes, trying to make her understand. “I couldn’t risk that, you know? Maybe the choice to withhold the information was selfish, but I wanted you to live. I—I was desperate for you to choose life over death, to stay with me. I couldn’t see any compelling reason to discuss it with you then. Their visit and subsequent murders happened a long time ago.”

  “I know.” She rubbed his arm reassuringly but asked in a steady voice, “Is there more?”

  “Thom and I found what we think are identification bracelets on the corpses.” He fished awkwardly, searching for the pocket sewn into his cloak. Biting off an oath as the two gem-encrusted bracelets stubbornly tangled themselves together in the folds of the pocket, Nate worked the bulky strands loose, ripping the seam in the process.

  She studied his face for a moment before glancing at the bands clutched in his hand. “Was one of them my father?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t read these symbols, remember?”

  She took the chains from him and ran first one, then the other through her fingers, squinting to see them closely in the moonlight. “I don’t recognize either of these names. These people weren’t on our expedition, not anyone I ever met.”

  Except for the quiet hiss of the waves on the beach, there was silence for a long moment.

  “The mystery deepe
ns, and we may never know what happened,” Nate said. He was tempted to shout out his relief that he hadn’t just given Bithia proof of her father’s death on Talonque. Obviously the man had passed away in some fashion and gone to dust millennia ago but to Bithia everything was just taking place now, as she heard about it for the first time. He didn’t think she was ready to deal with specifics. “At least it wasn’t your father.”

  “Which one was the man holding the red box?”

  Nate took the two chains and eyed them for a moment. “This one, with the red and purple stones leading off.” He handed them both to her again.

  “I’ll keep it and wear the links in honor of he who tried to rescue me, whatever his motives were and whoever he was. I choose to believe the intentions were good because it’s a comforting thought.” Setting the other bracelet on the flat tree trunk between them for a moment, she fastened the red and purple one around her right wrist with a quick motion of her graceful fingers, settling it right above her own. Then she took the second jeweled bracelet and extended her hand to Nate, the chain dangling and glinting in the moonlight. “Let Atletl use this in his bargaining tomorrow. Perhaps he can get us kemat to ride with such a treasure to offer in trade.”

  Nate set the rejected chain securely into his partially torn cloak pocket. “If you’re sure—”

  “I’m sure. Nate—”

  “What?” He steeled himself to accept whatever reproaches or fury she felt the need to hurl at him. He probably deserved it. He fixed his gaze on a point far out at sea.

  Bithia’s voice was soft and gentle. “Thank you.” Nate raised his head from his contemplation of the waves and met her eyes. She nodded in reassurance. “Thank you for not telling me while we were in Nochen, and thank you for telling me now. It helps to know I wasn’t totally forgotten by my people, even if their rescue attempt went sadly awry. I—I’d like to be alone with my memories for a while. Do you mind if I stay out here by myself? I promise not to wander.”

  “Of course, whatever you want. Come to the hut if the mist turns to rain, or if lightning gets closer to shore, all right?”

  “You’ll worry over me the rest of our lives together, won’t you?” she asked with a small laugh. “I know enough to come in out of the rain.”

  “Sorry,” he apologized tersely.

  Bithia laid a hand on his arm as he rose from their shared bench, preparing to hike to the hut. “I’ll worry over you as well. I suspect a warrior like you will be in far more dangerous situations than I over the years ahead.”

  “We’ll be together.” He kissed her gently on the forehead. “Mutual worry—it’s a deal. See you later, Sleeping Beauty.”

  Bithia did a double take. “What did you call me?”

  “An old legend on my race’s ancestral homeworld. We have our legends and myths too, you know. I’ll tell you about it sometime.” Smiling, he slogged through the sand, ready to accept the handoff of guard duty from Thom as the distant thunder rumbled again and the breeze strengthened.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Rain pattered on the beach and the hut for the rest of the night. Fortunately, the front porch area was sheltered by a roof of woven fronds, so Nate, Thom and Bithia stayed comfortable and dry. It was misting in the morning, but Atletl took off for the village cheerfully, right after breakfast of fish stew and dried fruit. Celixia accompanied him over Nate’s initial protests. The less time spent on this expedition to town the better, and he didn’t intend to create a situation where Atletl’s desire for Celixia’s company impeded the specific errands to be carried out.

  “I’ll raise less suspicion if I walk into town as a married man, bringing my wife to trade for new clothes,” Atletl said.

  “I’ll do a better job at picking clothes and sandals for Bithia than he will.” Giggling, Celixia poked Atletl in the ribs.

  “All right.” Nate threw up his hands in defeat. The two of them obviously wanted to spend the day by themselves and were prepared to go on presenting plausible excuses until he gave in. “Don’t be gone too long and head back if anything doesn’t feel right to you. I want kemat already broken to the saddle, but I don’t want them enough to risk raising suspicions in town. So be discreet.” He shook his finger at Celixia. “I’m counting on you to keep our friend here from talking too much to everyone he meets, okay?” Nate had one final instruction. “Do your best to make sure you’re not followed. Don’t lead anyone to us.”

  Atletl snapped a salute, as he’d seen Thom and Haranda do on occasion during their captivity together. “Yes, Captain. I’m a soldier and a seasoned veteran of assignments behind the lines. I’ve done undercover work in the land of the enemy before.”

  “And got caught,” Celixia said drily.

  “I was captured by overwhelming forces in an ambush situation, while commanding a patrol riding ahead of our main column.” His correction was polite but firm. “I’ve never been close to detection when I was alone and spying behind enemy lines.”

  “Clearly, I’m sending the right man for the job,” Nate said. I don’t have any choice, so it’s a good thing Atletl has prior experience working undercover in enemy territory. I hope there isn’t too much bullshit in this set of his stories. “We’ll be waiting. Good luck.”

  Flanked by Thom and Bithia, Nate watched from the porch until their local allies were lost in the morning mists on the beach.

  “I actually want an armored ground transport or a damn flyer,” Nate said, only partly in jest, as Atletl and Celixia disappeared from view over the horizon. “Or a Special Forces extraction team—forget kemat! But I figure even an intrepid trader like our pal there claims to be can’t find me those items on this planet. So we’re stuck to asking for what we can get.”

  The two men shared a rueful laugh.

  “What are our plans for the day after we ransack the place again for hidden treasures?” Bithia asked cheerfully.

  “Take a hike to the freshwater pond I found last night, take a swim. Be nice to thoroughly rinse off the grime from the sapiche game and the tunnel.” Nate grinned, reflecting on everything he and his companions had endured since dawn broke on the day of the games. “I only took a quick dip last night. The water wasn’t too cold,” he said to Bithia, who looked dubious about his suggestion. “Maybe fed by hot springs. Thom and I promise to give you privacy.”

  “Oh, for sure.” The sergeant blushed to the roots of his red hair.

  “There might be fish,” Nate said. “Did you see anything we could use to try and catch a few?”

  “All kinds of junk out there we couldn’t examine in the dark. I’ll go check.” Thom headed for the rear of the hut.

  “Watch for tolokon.” Bithia gave her warning with a serious undertone and a furrowed brow. “The slitherers hide in places such as the pile of discards. We no longer have the healing chamber to save anyone who gets bitten. I’m not special to the wretched species, no matter what these people insist. The creatures wouldn’t hesitate to bite me again, let alone you.”

  “I’ll be extra careful.” Thom drew his Mark One and trudged behind the hut. Nate heard him whistling as he explored the one small outbuilding and the sprawling junk pile next to it.

  Bithia sat on the porch edge and fumbled with her hair, which was escaping in spots from the arrangement of braids Celixia created the day before. Nate stood a few paces away, watching the ocean and the birds, lost in his own thoughts, not paying much attention to what she was doing.

  “Do you think you could help me?” Bithia asked finally, apparently frustrated by the tight weaving the other girl had done.

  Nate was sure he’d heard wrong. “You want me to help with your hair?”

  Blinking at his surprise, Bithia bit her lip, stifling a chuckle. “I need assistance loosening the strands from the braid. If we’re going swimming later, I want to wash my hair, or at least rinse it out. I prefer to wear it loose on my shoulders. It was nice of Celixia to style it, to make things easier when we were escaping the city, as she said,
but I don’t need it braided today. I rarely wore it this way before, and the crown of braids is too much weight on my head.”

  Nate came to the porch and sat behind her. He had started unraveling the one thick braid hanging over Bithia’s spine when Thom came around the end of the cottage, still whistling.

  “Found some good stuff.” He held out a fishing pole in one hand and clutched the rim of an oddly shaped basket in the other. Gesturing with the basket, he said, “I’m guessing this is the local equivalent of a net. If you don’t mind, I’m going ahead to the pond, try my luck at catching a few fish for lunch.”

  “Sure, go on without us,” Nate said. “I can see we’re going to be here awhile, trying to undo Celixia’s handiwork on Bithia’s hair. Walk straight north from the house, through the dunes, and as soon as the sand ends, there’s the pond. You can’t miss it. We’ll join you soon.”

  “Fine by me. No rush. I think we’ll probably have all day by the time Atletl and Celixia hike into town, do the shopping and get back out here. Even if they buy kemat with the bracelet, bargaining takes a long, long time on these pretech worlds. In my experience, all the parties involved enjoy the process too much. See you later.” Shouldering the pole and swinging the basket jauntily, Thom departed. Nate heard his whistling fade in the distance as the sergeant ascended the dunes, heading for the pond and the fish he hoped were waiting.

  Nate concentrated on his unaccustomed task. “Your hair is so soft. I was sure it would be.”

  Stretching like a cat, she turned to give him a flirtatious glance, although her words were prosaic. “It’s so beautiful here and peaceful. I feel as if all the problems and troubles are behind some invisible barrier, kept away from us, by the ocean maybe, you think?”

  “Like the barrier in the healing chamber kept everyone away from you?” Nate said. “Even in my own damn dreams I couldn’t touch you.”

  She was silent, gazing out to sea. He’d worked the thick braid loose and was now unraveling the crown of smaller braids, one at a time. Her lavender-blue hair was lustrous and shining in the morning sun, revealing itself to be composed of many variations on the two basic hues.