by dark wind
Loure swung his lamp that way. There were two women lying face down on the cave floor. Clothed in deep green robes, they gripped some kind of staff-like weapon in their hands. Obviously they had been guarding the entrance when they died.
“Run a diagnostic,” Caitlin told Dixon.
Dixon walked to the bodies, grimacing at the intense odor. He thumped the scanner, tried again then looked around. “It’s not registering.”
“Matheny?” Caitlin called up to the Orion.
“Aye, Ma’am?”
“Do you have a fix on the bodies we’re viewing?” She turned so her Com-Link could pan the corpses.
“Aye,” was the reply, then a short silence until the tech had his sensors locked on the bodies.
“Cause of death?” Caitlin asked, impatiently.
She could almost hear Matheny’s mental shrug. “Poisoning of some kind.”
“Race?” she queried. “They’re humanoid females, but extremely large specimens.”
“Don’t have a clue what race they are, Ma’am,” Matheny reported. “Not in our data banks.”
“Oh, hell,” Caitlin sighed. “I was afraid he’d say that.”
“I see light,” Dixon said.
“You see life?” Wellmeyer barked and the surgically implanted receivers behind the left ears of the away team vibrated painfully, causing each of them to put a hand up to cover that ear.
“Light,” Caitlin corrected, annoyed with the interruption. “He sees light!”
“You’d better hurry or there won’t be any life,” Wellmeyer reminded them, equally loud. “The readings are dismally low.”
“Don’t shout when you are speaking to us, Sir,” Caitlin snapped. “We can hear you perfectly well!”
“Then hurry up!” Wellmeyer groused.
“Butt wipe,” Caitlin murmured under her breath and motioned for the men to advance.
The away team moved further back inside the cave toward a faint source of light about a hundred yards away.
Her scent wasstronger now: a hint of lavender; a touch of citrus. He inhaled as best he could for the pain was terrible and the very movement of his chest nearly caused him to blackout again. Ashamed, he heard himself whimper with the agony exploding inside him and strove with iron-hard control to keep awake.
“Just a moment longer, Khiershon,” he told himself. “Just hold on a moment longer. She will hear you.
She will come for you.”
There were ninefemale bodies lying side by side-hands clasped-at the entrance to a large, circular chamber. Their faces were bloated and blotched with a crimson rash that had spread down their necks.
Their lips were blue; their eyes wide and staring. Ranged in a semi-circle, the women were clad in identical black robes with bright blue sashes.
“These women are giants!” Dixon whispered. “Look at their hands! Them hands are bigger than yours, Loure.”
“Big mamas, huh?” Loure knelt by the closest woman and ran a diagnostic. He looked up, surprise on his beefy face. “Conium maculatum poisoning.”
“Speak Alliance, will you?” Dixon grumbled.
“Hemlock,” Caitlin translated. “They ingested hemlock.”
“From the looks of these gals, they are some kind of religious order. Maybe they use in it their rituals.”
“Rituals,” Caitlin repeated. “You think they were performing a ceremony?”
“Maybe they’re celebrating National Socrates Day,” Dixon observed. He pointed to a large goblet sitting atop a flat stone that could have been used as an altar of some kind. “I bet if you run a scan, you’ll find hemlock in there.”
Loure moved over to the goblet, passed the scanner over it and nodded. “That’s exactly what it is and in high concentrations at that.”
“We got two alive somewhere in here,” Dixon said. “We’d better be finding them fast then.” Caitlin nodded and they moved into the circular chamber. She opened and closed her left fist to keep from screaming as the walls around her began to close in. She was having difficulty drawing air into her lungs and could hear her heart pounding dangerously fast in her ears.
It was becomingharder and harder to breathe. The pain had all but taken control of what mind he had left. He could hear her voice now: it was soft yet strangely hollow. And she was not that far away. His mind shut down for a second or two and he panicked, thinking she would never find him if he lost consciousness again. He had to stay alive just a bit longer.
“Here I am,” he whispered, his cracked lips bleeding. “Find me.”
“Here’s one more,” Dixon said and knelt down. “She must be a guard, too. She’s got the same kind of staff we found with the two other women.”
“Matheny? How much farther?” Caitlin asked, wiping a hand over her sweaty face. They had found eleven bodies yet there was still a reading telling them there were two faint blips of life somewhere inside the cave.
“Looks like about twenty feet, Ma’am,” Matheny responded from the Orion.
Caitlin looking about them. “Which way? A dozen passageways lead off this central chamber!”
“The scanner can’t be any more specific, Ma’am, I’m sorry. We are getting some odd interference up here, Dr. Kelly.”
Caitlin let out a discouraged breath. They were four corridors straight ahead.
“I am here, Lady .”
As soon as the words registered, Caitlin turned, facing aft. “Back there,” she said. “He’s back there.”
“He?” Loure questioned, exchanging a look with Dixon.
But Caitlin was already moving down one of the dark stone corridors, Loure’s light casting a wavering glow on the sharp walls as he bumbled along in her wake.
They found a twelfth woman sitting on the ground, her head against a closed iron doorway built into the rock wall. In the woman’s lap was a long rod with a bulbous projection at one end that flared out like the points of a star. She watched them coming toward her with a look of incredulous dismay. “How did you get in here?” she said.
Caitlin reached the woman first and saw that her lips were already turning blue from the poison. She knelt beside her. “I have an antidote.” The woman shook her head.
“Too late,” the woman told her. “Far too late.”
“Why?” Caitlin asked. “Why did you...?”
“You must not let him out,” the red-robed woman said and with her last bit of strength grabbed Caitlin’s arm and held it with unbelievable power. “Just let him die. When his earthly body is drained of life, you must remove his head.”
Caitlin looked past the woman to the locked hatchway. “I am a Healer. I am sworn to save lives. Let me help you.”
“We have done all we can do.” She tugged painfully at Caitlin’s arm. “If you release him, you will live to regret doing so!”
With the last word, the woman’s hand dropped from Caitlin’s arm and fell into her lap. Her head tilted to one side as though she was contemplating, then her eyes closed.
Caitlin looked past the dead woman and saw there was a heavy wooden plank barring the door. She stood. “Dixon, pick her up. Thommy, get that door opened, now!” He heard thedoor of his cell opening, but he could not lift his head. He could not see the face of his savioress but her scent was strong in his nostrils. He could feel the heat her body radiated and longed to touch her, to draw her to him.
“Sweet Maryand Joseph!” Loure exclaimed as he held his light up so the room into which they had ventured could be illuminated.
Caitlin felt her knees grow weak at the sight she and her men beheld and she recoiled for a moment, unable to believe her eyes.
He was hanging spread eagle from thick chains embedded in the cave walls, his feet barely touching the ground, his manacled wrists flung wide to either side of his sagging head. His bare chest was a riot of cuts and welts and star-shaped burns that glistened with each shallow breath he took. The black leather britches he wore were torn at one thigh, ripped along one cuff.
“Is he..
.?” Caitlin swallowed, bile rising in her throat. “Is he alive?” Dixon moved past her and ran the scanner. “Aye,” he said. “Barely.”
“Move aside,” Caitlin ordered.
When her fragilehands touched him, he whispered a sigh of relief that his prayers to Alel had been answered. He forced his eyes open and found himself looking at her slender legs then his vision was moving up her shapely body as his head was tipped away from his chest.
“Oh, dear God,” Caitlin groaned as she saw his face. She was staring into dark amber eyes filled with unspeakable agony. She reached out her free hand to stroke back the limp black hair which fell across his face: a face scored with savage bruises and vicious cuts, but a face of such striking male beauty, it took her breath away.
“I knew you would find me, milady,” she heard him whisper and his sad amber eyes closed.
Caitlin knew enough about torture to know this man had been hanging like this-crucified against the stone wall-long enough to restrict his breathing. He could barely draw air into his collapsing lungs.
“Get him down,” she ordered, her mind racing. “Get him the hell down!” Dixon flicked open his laser and made quick work of the clasps that banded the prisoner’s wrists. Loure moved into position to catch the unconscious man as Dixon lowered the brutally abused arms. With his powerful physique and well-honed strength, Loure swung the unconscious man into his arms and headed through the cave, Dixon walking ahead to light the way.
“Take us up!” Caitlin ordered as the away team and their patient exited the cave. “Hurry!” Captain Wellmeyerwatched from the doorway as Caitlin and her corpsmen worked on the unconscious man. He was unnerved by the physical condition of his passenger and ill at ease with the twelve dead bodies now residing in his cold storage compartment. When, two hours later, Caitlin stepped away from the gurney and went to her desk to sit down, the captain followed. “Is he gonna make it?” he asked.
Caitlin nodded, so tired she didn’t feel like answering. She leaned back in her chair and put her hands up to rub at her eyes.
“We took a sample of the DNA from the bodies. They aren’t anything like us,” reported Wellmeyer. He shuddered. “Never thought I’d ever see a being from beyond our galaxy.”
“Neither did I,” Caitlin replied. “Our patient is more of an anomaly than the women. His anatomy is acutely different from our own. He’s got organs I can’t even begin to guess the function of.”
“I had them bring up everything we could find in the cave,” Wellmeyer told her. “There wasn’t that much. A few religious-looking things, a scroll, a book that might be someone’s journal, and the four weapons.”
“What was on the scroll or could we decipher it?” asked Jax as he joined them.
Wellmeyer shrugged. “Atherton says it looks similar to ancient Viking runes, but she isn’t sure. She’s gonna work on it later this evening.” He was referring to Cathy Atherton, the Systems Operating Officer who maintained the ship’s computers. “Once she’s finished with the scroll, the computer should have enough data to translate whatever the hell is in the book they found.” Caitlin blinked. “Has she scanned it into the system?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Wellmeyer replied and watched as Caitlin swiveled around in her chair and called her computer online.
“Access scroll scanned in by Lieutenant Atherton,” Caitlin said. She waited until the screen popped up on her computer then sat forward, the better to see the strange characters.
“Well?” Wellmeyer grunted. He leaned over her, peering at the screen.
“It’s definitely runic-based,” Caitlin answered, irritated at his breathing down her neck. She used her mouse to highlight one particular word. “This looks almost Arabic, though.” She frowned deeply, and then told the computer to analyze the scroll with perimeters set to the ancient Arabic language. Almost at once, the computer screen split into two windows: the scroll’s writing on the left, the translation into Arabic in the right.
“Bingo,” Jax said quietly.
“Computer, translate right window to Alliance Speak,” ordered Caitlin.
The screen split again until three windows stood side by side.
“Maximize right window.”
The right window filled the screen and Caitlin leaned farther toward it. She scanned the short document.
“It’s a Death Warrant,” she told the men.
“For him?” Wellmeyer snapped, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
“It appears so,” she replied, staring at the word that was undoubtedly her patient’s name.
“Does it say why it was issued?” Jax asked.
“Crimes against womanhood,” Wellmeyer snorted as he read the document over Caitlin’s shoulder. “His name is Khiershon Cree, son of Kamerone.”
“What does that mean, I wonder? His crimes against womanhood,” Jax questioned. “Rape? Murder?”
“It could mean anything,” Caitlin replied and turned so she could look across the sick bay to the unconscious man. “Whatever he did, they hated him enough to want to hurt him badly before they killed him.”
“The question is,” mumbled Wellmeyer, “what stopped them? Why kill themselves before they carried out his sentence?”
“Maybe they thought he was already dead,” Jax put forth. “I mean, they were obviously involved in some kind of religious cult. Swilling down a cup of hemlock is not something any sane person would do.”
“I think they were questioning him,” Caitlin said and when they asked her why she felt that way, she couldn’t answer. It was a gut feeling and one that had been nagging at her.
“Trying to find an accomplice, maybe?” asked Wellmeyer.
“Or accomplices,” Caitlin corrected. “Maybe he’s a warrior and his people are at war with those women.” She drew in a long, tired breath. “Who the hell knows?” She covered her face with her hands.
“Until he wakes up and we can question him, we won’t know.”
“If he doesn’t speak Alliance, how will you communicate?” asked Wellmeyer.
Caitlin pulled her hands away from her face and stared up at Wellmeyer. That idiotic question was just one more reason she detested Herbert Wellmeyer, and another reason the bureaucrat had no business being in command of a Medivac ship.
Jax hid his amusement by ducking his head and when it became apparent Caitlin wasn’t going to answer, he replied, “He spoke to her when he was found, Sir.”
“Oh,” Wellmeyer grunted. He realized he should have known that, but hid his embarrassment by maintaining a bored look. “Then perhaps she’ll be able to understand him.” Jax rolled his eyes and turned away. He wished-not for the first time-that Caitlin had been assigned CO
of the Orion.
Wellmeyer looked around, found no one paying any attention to him and turned to go. “Report to me as soon as you learn anything concrete.”
“You’ll be the first to know, you sanctimonious bastard,” Caitlin muttered. She watched him leave then turned to catch Jax’s eye. “That man couldn’t pour piss out of a gravity boot with the instructions stamped on it.”
“Now, now,” Jax said, wagging a finger at her. “That isn’t nice.” Caitlin smiled. “And could probably be classified as insubordination.” She couldn’t stop the yawn that came and gave in to it.
“Why don’t you go lie down and try to sleep, Doc?” Jax suggested. “I’ll let you know if there’s any change.”
Caitlin was dead tired. Her weeks of sleeplessness were beginning to take its toll. She knew she wouldn’t be any good to anyone if she didn’t get some rest. Getting wearily to her feet, she put her hands to the small of her back and stretched, rolling her head from side to side. She looked at her patient, knew he’d sleep on for a while yet, and told Jax she was going to her quarters. “Call me the moment he even bats an eyelash,” she ordered.
“And a thick, luscious eyelash at that,” Lisa Mahon, one of the med techs, sighed wistfully, then gasped at her indiscretion. She blushed. “I’m sorry,
Doc. I don’t know why the heck I said that!” Caitlin grinned. “You’ve been on the Orion far too long, Lisa,” she replied. “I think you need to take a much-needed shore leave, lady!”
“We all do,” Lida, one of the other med techs, agreed.
As she took the elevator to her quarters, Caitlin could not stop thinking about her patient. It was more than the brutal physical abuse the man had suffered making her unable to get him out of her mind. Or the unstable condition he was in that could go either way: back to health or into cold storage alongside the women who had tortured him. She just could not seem to force her thoughts away from him.
Or get his face from her mind’s eye.
Or his voice from some deep responsive part of her.
“I knew you would find me,” he’d said.
“How did you know?” she asked, unaware she had spoken aloud until the elevator Com-Link asked if she needed anything.
“No,” Caitlin replied. “Just a good night’s sleep.”
“May I suggest a Temparest, Dr. Kelly?” the Com-Link asked. “I could have Counselor Rema-”
“No, thank you,” Caitlin said forcefully. “I don’t need any sedatives.” There was a slight, irritated pause, then: “As you wish, Doctor.” The Com-Link cut off with a click.
Her quarters felt confined and Caitlin asked Conar to spray the room with a mist of lavender. “And I’d like to hear a gentle rain with thunder in the distance,” she added.
“I shall do as you ask, Dearling,” her Com-Link acknowledged.
Caitlin opened her mouth to instruct her AI unit to cease with its affectionate-and to her ear, intimate-sobriquets, but she closed her lips again. The Com-Link’s soft words and sensual voice was as close as Caitlin had been in several months to a lover’s voice.
She stripped, put on her old flannel gown, frowning at the rent under the left arm and the threadbare condition of the bodice. She made a mental note to order another gown when she got to Fealst. It would be months before it was brought up from Terra, but at least she’d know it was on its way to her. There was nothing as comforting as sleeping in a warm, flannel gown two sizes too large.
