CHAPTER
12
Five weeks before the mission to Colossus, Riyst sat in Chez Bruno’s Brown Earth Cuisine. At one end of the table sat the black man, Jeed Stastny, Civilian Chief with the Miners' Union. Stabbing tiny bits of grilled veal with the backside of his fork, he chewed, as if he was on his way out the door.
Directly across from Riyst was Michael Strode. Strode was a liaison between the Miners’ Union and the Interplanetary Peace Coalition, and special assistant to Stastny. He ate slowly, carefully. His artificially blonded eyes were constantly shifting. Riyst never knew exactly whose interests Strode was working for at any point in time. Frankly, Riyst didn’t much care for either man. Both were too self-important to get dirty, though Stastny used to be IPC.
At the other end of the table sat General Grollier, watching Stastny with an amused grin. Riyst spoke to Strode. “What did you think of Firone?”
Still chewing, Stastny broke in. “Horrid little place.” He pierced a new bit of veal and put it in his mouth, scraping fork between his teeth. The sound of suction and clacking teeth followed.
Staring across the table at Riyst, Strode nodded his agreement. He asked, “You?”
Riyst shrugged, in a sudden state of perverse antagonism. “It wasn’t so bad,” he lied. He leaned back in his chair and pushed his plate of stuffed ptarmigan away. Who could eat with Stastny making so much noise?
The general, who knew the truth of Riyst’s feelings about the Firone mission, chuckled softly and turned to Stastny. “You got the contract signed.”
Stastny bobbed his head emphatically. He swallowed loudly and dropped his fork. “Funny thing about that. After the rebellion, the Emperor sent for us. He was furious about the way his people had treated him. Apparently, one of the high priestesses started a war, just to gain position with the IPC. I understand that someone knocked her unconscious. So, she's his prisoner now.” He finished speaking as he put a partially full glass of ale to his mouth, so the words came out hollow.
“Now that we have Firone on board, we need to secure Colossus.” General Grollier turned his steely gaze toward Riyst.
Pale gaze piercing, Strode leaned across the table, drawing Riyst's attention. “Do you think the Isberg clan will play?”
Riyst nodded. “He already is.”
Strode leaned back in his seat. “He’s in charge, right? What about de la Croix? Will she follow orders?”
“No problem there. They’re breaking up. She’ll be putting in for a transfer from that unit any day now.”
Strode and Stastny exchanged glances. Stastny nodded. They stood, Riyst and General Grollier following to their feet. Shaking hands all around, Stastny said, “See that she does.” He and Strode headed for the back door, weaving through the overcrowded tables and around heavily laden waiters.
CHAPTER
13
Shortly after dawn, while Bardef still slept, Pala woke Makel. He rolled over to retch loudly. The sound echoed through the drying tents, amplifying until it tumbled into the clearing. She waited until he’d gathered himself and wiped his mouth. Then she cleared her throat. He stared at her, red-eyed and waiting.
She pointed north, where Cabot’s body and the burn-out lay. For a second her throat constricted, but then she set her jaw. “Quade's approaching. He's just on the other side of those trees, now. We will find out what’s going on, no matter what it takes. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather talk to me now, instead of waiting for him?”
Makel’s eyes widened, and he turned his head to follow her point. When he turned back, his jaw was clenched and his lips were spread thin and tight. She lifted her hands, claiming no responsibility for his choice. “Okay. If that’s the way you want it. But it’s going to get ugly.” As if on cue, the shuttle broke over the tops of trees. It swooped to skim close to the ground like a giant falcon searching for prey. It circled around the clearing once and then lighted gently in a bare patch on the edge of camp.
Before it even finished settling, Quade jumped out, followed by Physe. Pala unlocked the cage as Quade approached. She looked in at Makel. “Last chance.”
His eyes were wild, looking in every direction. At last he faced her directly and cleared his throat, but he still said nothing.
Pala stepped out of Quade’s way, holding the door wide open. If the scientist thought she was going to interfere, he had another thing coming. Quade was a big guy, especially for seventeen. He stood taller than most of the adults and carried at least twice their mass. This wouldn't be pleasant for Makel. But, too many people had died and the attack had been too well orchestrated. If it meant bloodying some chemist to get answers, then so be it.
Quade thrust his visor into her hands, reached into the cage, clamped onto Makel’s lean forearm and jerked him toward the privacy of the jungle. To his credit, the chemist didn’t utter a single plea, though he panted heavily through his wide-open mouth.
As Quade dragged the limping Makel away, Pala turned her attention to the shuttle. Physe now sat in the pilot’s seat, watching her for orders. Behind him sat Doctors Denten and Laramie with four injured men. She circled her hand over her head and then pointed at the other side of the base.
Physe said something to the shuttle passengers and the shuttle lifted into the air again. Pala turned and followed Quade and Makel into the dense isolation of the woods.
Once they’d gone in far enough, Quade pulled the rapidly-breathing Makel to a stop. “Let me explain to you how this will happen. We,” he pointed first to Pala and then himself, “ask questions. You answer. If you choose to not answer, I’ll hurt you. It’s that simple. Do you understand?”
A tremor passed through Makel. He focused on Quade. Pala shook her head. She could see it already, and by the sour look on Quade’s face, he could too: Makel wasn’t ready to talk. But, sooner or later, he would tell them what they wanted to know. This time it would just be an exercise in pain. Next time, he might think twice before refusing her request.
Quade began. “First question. Why did the spheres attack?”
Makel stared at Quade, but remained tight-lipped. The whole forest went silent, amplifying the echo of Makel’s panting.
After a long minute, Quade said, “I’m not askin’ again.”
Makel shifted his attention to her, eyes wide. She looked away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Quade’s fist flash out, catching the chemist in the jaw, snapping his head back. The blow sent Makel sprawling into the saplings behind him. Quade lunged and grabbed Makel by the shoulder, standing him up again. “That was just a little taste of things to come. Are you gonna start talkin’ now?”
Pala started to lean against a squat, thick tree with giant blackish-green leaves, but then thought better of it. It had an odd smell, like the peppermint antiseptic spray her grandmother had given her as a child. She moved instead to a squat, thick-trunked gopher tree and settled there.
Makel rubbed his jaw. “This is illegal.” His lower lip trembled.
She shrugged. “So, go tell the law … Oh, that’s right. It’s me.”
“When we get back to Earth, you won’t be. I’ll have you court-martialed.”
Before she could answer, Quade cocked his fist and said, “Some of us will never get back to Earth. If you don’t start talkin’, you might be one of them.”
Suddenly, Makel laughed. The bitter sound echoed harshly from the canopy of leaves overhead. He turned to Pala. “You’re blaming me, when your own boyfriend was in the thick of it. You should have asked him. He knew. He said he tried to tell you, but you're too much of a military maggot to listen.”
Makel was wrong. Cabot hadn’t really tried to talk to her. It was always more of his prattle about the job and future marriage. It was all connected in his mind somehow. He was dating the daughter of the great Brigadier General Harcourt de la Croix. The relationship was part of the job.
She took a deep breath. Now that Makel had confirmed Cabot’s involvement, it meant her boyfriend most probably k
new about the transmitter chip in the canteen. Someone had been afraid she’d survive the initial spheres and would discover the plot behind it, so Cabot had given her that canteen as a further measure to ensure her death. The question still remained: did he take her canteen intentionally, in a change of heart, or was it accidental? Did it really matter? Not to the mission, it didn’t. But to her?
She was beginning to think that death had been too good for Cabot.
Makel turned to Quade. “I’m not talking. There's more at stake here than you know.” He squared his shoulders and stared in defiance.
Pala pushed off the tree, suddenly very tired. Whatever this secret was, it was big enough to turn Cabot against her and to dummy up the chemist. "Quade, I’ll send Physe with the stretcher. Just don’t break his jaw or injure his throat. I want him vocal.”
“Gotcha.” A vengeful grin crossed Quade’s face, and for a moment, Pala felt sorry for Makel. Then it passed.
In the clearing, Physe leaned against a table, already waiting with a stretcher beside him. Pala jerked her thumb toward Quade and Makel. He kicked the handle of the stretcher, popping it up so he could catch it. Tucking it under his arm, he came her way, whistling as he passed.
Laramie stared at her as she approached the examination tables, black rings of exhaustion under his eyes. Bardef was awake and helping Denten with two of the injured men. He was the first to speak, his forehead wrinkled with concern. “What's going on? What are you doing out there?”
“We’re just trying to get to the bottom of everything that's happened.” Pala tried a reassuring smile, though she didn’t know what to reassure him about. Nothing much was clicking into place yet, except confirmation of her boyfriend's involvement.
“Well, I’m tired of being kept in the dark. If we were back home, this non-communication wouldn't be tolerated, especially when our own chemist is involved. I’m filing a report on all this as soon as we return. So, you people had better start filling us in. And another thing, we’re scientists, not physicians.” He gestured to Laramie and Denten.
Pala stopped and took a deep breath, concentrating on not taking her frustrations and anger out on the scientist. He wasn’t trained to handle this kind of stress. She swept her hand to indicate the camp. “If you want to stay alive, you'll probably want to help me as much as you can. And I don't really think I have to tell you anything. But you're not my prisoner. If you’d like to live outside my rules, then be my guest. You might want to take a weapon with you, though. You’ll probably need it.” She shoved her cannon at him, and he flinched, stumbling backward. Beside him, Denten grinned.
The injured ranger, Harlen, spoke up, his voice thin and winded. “I sure hope you know how to shoot better than I do.” He twisted sideways on the table. A wide orange-black burn ran down the length of his torso. Carefully, he edged off the table. Denten helped him to his feet and they hobbled toward one of the new tents.
“No, I’m just not used to this kind of thing. I'm all right.” Bardef turned his back on the group and busied himself at his lab table.
“Good, because we need you. The other bases are on the way with their injured.” Pala took a deep breath and blew it back out through pursed lips. She felt bad for him, she really did. He’d been through a lot more these last few hours than he probably had his whole life. Catching up with Denten and Harlen, she slid her arm around the ranger’s waist and took on some of his weight.
Denten peered over Harlen's shoulder. “Bardef’s an ass sometimes. I’m sorry. I think you’re doing a great job.” He paused. Then he jutted his chin toward the trees. “So what’s happening out there, where Quade is?”
“Escaped prisoner.”
Harlen snorted, and then groaned, a grimace on his face. Pala readjusted her arm around him for more support as they wove through the tents, trying to find an empty one.
“Who?” Denten frowned.
“Makel.”
Denten looked surprised. “Makel? What's going on?” His step stuttered, and Harlen cringed again.
“Do you know what he was working on?”
“No, but you can bet I’ll read through his notes carefully.”
Pala nodded. “Try talking to him, too. I don’t think anybody military will get a word out of him.”
They hobbled slowly into one of the newest tents on the edge of the clearing. Through its still semi-transparent walls, she saw Quade and Physe carrying Makel on the stretcher back into camp. She and Denten let Harlen slide to the bedroll on the floor. He lay on his side, the gnarl of burn facing up. That sphere should have gutted him. Just a few inches more in any direction, he would be dead. The scar spoke volumes of information to her about Harlen’s allegiances. Was it an intentional near-miss? Or, had the sphere been distracted at just the right time. She motioned to the injury. “You’re lucky. Do you need anything before I leave?”
Harlen tried to chuckle, but it came out more of a cackle. “Just about twenty hours of sleep.” He grimaced again and lay back on a blanket. “And lots and lots of pain killers.”
“I can take care of that,” Denten said. He dug in his pockets.
As she left the tent, Denten was filling his power syringe. Harlen called softly out to her, “I’m sorry about Cabot.”
Pala didn’t say anything. He would find out the truth soon enough, if he didn’t know it already. The bars of the animal holding cage clanged as Quade locked Makel away. Obviously, by the chemist’s silence, others within the camp were involved. Perhaps even those closest to her.
CHAPTER
14
The dark yawn of the Ancients' cavern was visible in the distant bluffs when Trgyl and Kryn entered the clearing that marked the beginning of the Ancients’ territory. There, they came upon the first body. From the far end of the clearing, it looked to be nothing but a gray clump of dirt. It was only as they drew near that arms and legs became visible, tucked neatly against the body. It was a young male from the barrio directly to the north of theirs. His face was twisted, even in death. Drool and sweat caked across his once soft skin. Trgyl spotted another body just a short jog away. Another young male from the same barrio. They were in a line with the Ancients' cavern.
Kryn shook his head, staring at the body in front of him. “What has done this?”
“They were sent to the Ancients, as we were.”
“There are rules to be obeyed. It is possible they angered the Ancients.”
Trgyl nodded. It was possible. The Ancients had many rules. When to fly, when not. When to crawl on all fours, when to stand on two. When to sheath claws, and when to bare them in attack stance. And on and on. The young were taught the rules from the moment of birth. They kept learning until that second when they gained their own names. Then, no other was responsible for them and all teaching was done. Many never set foot near the cave. This was Trgyl’s first time, Kryn’s second.
“It is best we appease the Ancients quickly.”
Kryn looked at him, his skin pale. “Let us go, then.”
Starting off again, Trgyl peeled the crust from some tkrk and popped it into his mouth. The bryl liked the soft center of the plant, but it was the outer layer that gave the most strength. That was exactly what his body needed right now. He’d replenished his pouch at every chance he got during the day and a half long journey. Kryn munched on the meat strips he’d had in hand when Rym had given them the order to go.
When they reached the foot of the tall cliff-side where the Ancients made their home, Trgyl and Kryn began to climb side-by-side. The mouth of the primary cave yawned above them in the midday sun. There were no paths, and the way was worn and steep. Claws only worked to loosen rock into crashing slides. The best way would be to fly, but it was strictly forbidden.
Half-way up they crested the top of the first cliff. Kryn’s breath came in deep gasps. He halted. “We will rest and then we will continue.”
Trgyl was silent, waiting impatiently. There was nothing in the rules against resting once the journey u
p the cliff-side had begun. There was nothing for it, either. He only hoped they did no wrong. To go back to Rym in disgrace would be unbearable. He’d have to leave the barrio. Would Dymlr bring Tylg and go with him? Did her love carry that far?
The river below snaked through boulders and trees. In some areas the trees wore leaf robes of a rich green. In other areas, a brown undertone leached into the colors. Few birds circled in the sky.
At last, Kryn said he was ready to go. His breath still cut deep grooves in the air, but he began to climb again. Misgrasping his first hold, he skated down the cliff-side a few feet before he reached a rock that held him. He stood, leaning against the cliff-side and balancing on the rock.
Trgyl scrambled back down after him. “Go back down.”
“I only need to rest a little longer.” Kryn kept his head bent low.
“No. There still is a long climb, and the Ancients may be unhappy already.”
Kryn slowly turned his head to face Trgyl. “I have shamed us, brother.”
“There is no shame in wisdom.” Though there could be, if the Ancients denied or even killed them. "It would be wise to wait for me outside the boundry."
Kryn nodded weakly, and then began the long climb down the cliff. Trgyl started upwards again. Moving alone, it didn’t take long to reach the cave. Trgyl hadn’t realized how he’d slowed to keep pace with his brother. He turned around in the entrance and looked through the dim night for Kryn. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw his brother resting one-third the way down. He didn’t understand what had happened. Kryn had been strong and healthy when they’d left the barrio.
He hoped this conversation with the Ancients went well and quickly. Kryn needed him. Dropping to all four feet, he unsheathed his claws to make noise for an announcement. This was a commandment.
CHAPTER
15
The dawning sun glinted off the smooth metal of the clean examination tables and the sky above was a deep blue-green, with streaks of orange and pale yellow. A gentle cool breeze drifted across the compound. It was the kind of day made for relaxation, fun and laughter. A beautiful day, if the circumstances weren’t so grim.
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