by Damon Alan
Who is this man that asks her name in such familiarity?
When she didn’t respond, Peter answered for her. “This is Alarin’s betrothed mate, Emille Sur’batti. A handshake isn’t part of her culture.”
Frowning, the healer dropped his hand to his side.
She didn’t care, she concentrated on Peter’s words instead. It sounded good to hear another say her new surname. She was Alarin’s mate. The soon-to-be wife of the most respected adept on Nula Armana.
And she’d accidentally harmed him. No matter what, from now on she’d make sure her man was safe if it was in her power to do so.
“Try not to ask too many questions. He needs to rest,” the healer was saying to Peter.
All healers everywhere always say that. She wouldn’t need to speak. Once he was alert she would dive into her mate’s mind and join with him. Use her presence there to heal him.
Enough time had passed, and she’d reached the limits of her patience. Emille pushed past the man and through the door. On the other side was a hallway with a gentle upward curve to the floor and doors on both sides every six spans or so.
“Alarin?”
She reached out with her mind, looking for familiar thought patterns.
There. Through that door.
She burst into the room, Peter and the healer were right behind her since she’d paused to locate her beloved.
He lay on the bed, eyes closed, lacerations and burns covered his face. They looked… to be healing somehow. And more than that, it was almost as if the wounds were vanishing.
I’m awake, he thought to her.
This is all my fault, my love. I wanted to show you something and nearly killed you.
I know. I sensed your touch near me before I was wounded. You didn’t do it on purpose. And whatever you did, it is something no adept has ever done before. I can sense that much.
I sent your cup to you. Peter calls it teleporting.
Alarin didn’t answer her immediately, probably thinking about the meaning of her words.
Your mug was with me. I changed the…
Alarin interrupted her. Amazing, Emille. Work with Peter. Get your new skill under control so you can teach it to me. We will pretend you are the master when you do.
She sensed his mirth. That was good, if he was laughing at the situation, he wasn’t hurt as bad as she’d feared.
His mental control blocked his pain, he wasn’t uncomfortable. He would live. Once you heal enough to concentrate, reach out to me, touch my mind. I will share with you then.
It is set in stone, then. The medicine of the newcomers is powerful. I will not be like this for long. Doctor Thea Jannis, another newcomer friend, treated me. I’ve seen her power as a healer, it was she who discovered a way to steal the gift from Merik.
For herself?
Alarin twitched as he laughed, then moaned in pain. “No,” he whispered. “I’ll explain later.”
“Is he okay?” Peter asked.
Emille looked up from Alarin’s wounds toward Peter. “He’s going to be fine. He wants you and I to perfect the ability that harmed him.”
“Huh. Well, good for him. He’s an exceptional man.” Peter nodded at her. “We’ll do that.” Peter gripped Alarin’s limp hand. “For my friend.”
He’s my friend too, Alarin told Emille.
You tell him that when you are better, Master Alarin. Until then I will let him work thinking it is a factor in restoring your health.
Manipulative. Why do men think we stand a chance against the wiles of an ambitious woman?
Because we let you think that.
Chapter 42 - Eastward
Secondday at Sunbreak
They’d crossed the forest line a cycle ago. Now Eislen’s ragtag band of fishermen were hiding in the woods near a trade road halfway to the Eastlands. Things may have changed nearer to the city of Zeffult with Alarin’s rule, but out here, in the depths of the nation’s wilds, the marauding behavior of soldiers and the minor adepts patrolling with them hadn’t changed a bit.
A caravan of eleven wagons sat idle on the road. Their possessions and trade goods lay thrown on the road. A dozen soldiers and an adept wandered among the goods, picking out what they wanted to steal for themselves.
Eislen wouldn’t have it. He outnumbered the soldiers two to one, and was probably more powerful than the adept he faced. Not that he’d use his gift for this.
It was time the men who’d sworn themselves to him were blooded. And, to be fair, it was time he was as well. And this was the cause they needed to fight.
“When I fire, we attack,” he said.
Elvanik grabbed his arm. “You ready for this? It’s no small thing to take a life.”
The only answer necessary was the nocking of an arrow.
The men next to him gripped their weapons. Fear lay on the faces of some, anticipation in others. Both groups would feel differently on the other side of what was about to happen. The men were armed inadequately compared to the soldiers, but that was no matter. The gods favored this. Wood spears with fire-hardened tips, a few stone knives, two iron. A few bows.
Eislen raised his bow and sighted in on his target. Ages ago he’d raised a very similar weapon and struck a machine sent by Sarah Dayson’s people to observe him. Inadvertently he’d taken the device down.
For a moment he was afraid his teeth would chatter, revealing his doubts to Elvanik. But the chain of events following his attack on the newcomer device had led him, under grace of the gods, to this place and this time. That alone was justification for the life he was about to take. The thought calmed him, and the scene dropped into slow motion.
The arrow was loose. The shaft streaked away, the string sounded of ripping air as it zipped past Eislen’s cheek. Time slammed back into normalcy.
He stood ready to back the arrow up with his gift should it not find its mark.
No need.
The handmade missile plunged between the ribs of the adept, smashing her heart. She was dead as she hit the ground.
The men around her dropped their ill-gotten gains and drew their weapons. Some of them had iron swords, and one had an iron tipped pike.
Eislen’s men charged. As they raced past him, he quickly loosed two more arrows on the enemy. Two of the swordsmen dropped to the road, one clutching his chest, the other his throat. The adept and the two soldiers were the first people he’d ever killed.
He thought it would affect him more, but he felt nothing for them. They had betrayed their humanity, and so killing them was as pruning a tree.
The fight was over long before his adrenalin surge wore off. He walked among the carnage, his body shaking. Twelve soldiers lay dead, two of Eislen’s men lay beside them. Six more were wounded to the point of not being able to travel.
“What have you done?” asked an a voice behind him.
He turned to face an elderly woman, prepared to use the bow as a staff. The sight of her was a shock to his adrenalin-laced body, and when he saw who spoke, he dropped to the ground, sitting cross legged. His body shook a moment, then he answered her. “I brought justice to the deserving.”
“You would take a life for stealing?” she asked.
“Mother,” a man said as he brushed past her. “Do not offend this man. He fought for us.”
Eislen told himself he would consider her words later, but his thought was that these soldiers didn’t die for stealing. They died for abandoning the teachings of the priests.
“Pay no attention to her,” the man said. “I’m master of this caravan. Today you have saved our best wares.”
Eislen bowed his head. “I’m Eislen of Kampana.”
The man knew what happened to Kampana from the look on his face. Eislen hoped to set him at ease. “I am a humble servant of Em’Faroo and Em’Jalai. I seek a return to the old ways, when all followed the priesthoods and their teachings.”
“A cause I can support,” the man said, grinning. “Gone are the days when the adepts served
man. And the soldiers… they are often no more than road bandits.”
Eislen gestured his disagreement, his flattened hand cut parallel to the ground. “There are still some adepts who keep the faith.” At that moment battle rage finally fled him, and he felt like laying back on the packed dirt of the road to rest. But he had duties. “We will burn our dead and be on our way.”
“Nonsense. We will provision you and my family will gather the wood for the funeral pyres.” The man gestured back toward the wagons. “Tell your men to rest in the shade under our wheels. We will prepare food.”
Eislen overcame his weakness in order to retrieve Salla from the forest while his men rested.
The tradesmen gathered wood and as his fallen comrades were set alight, Eislen said the words to send them to Tsungte for the sorting. Hopefully he’d not see them in the sky again as burning souls.
The soldiers and the adept were burned on a common pile, no words for them. The dark god of the abyss would sort them out as he saw fit.
When the funeral was done Eislen planned to leave, but the caravan master would have none of it. The traders fed his men the first plentiful hot food they’d had in days, and provided bedrolls for the men to rest on during the longnight ahead. They expected his party to stay until firstday sunrise.
“Stay the secondday with us, we will feast,” the trademaster said.
His men clearly wanted to do just that.
It had been a long journey to get to this point, one filled with blisters, hunger, and pain.
They would stay. His men needed it. He needed it.
What sealed the deal was when Salla brought forth a young woman to greet him.
“Eislen,” Salla said. “This woman is a devotee of Jalai. A missionary of our Great Mother.”
He groaned as he stood up. Everything ached. “My honor, missionary.”
The woman bowed, but said nothing.
Uncomfortable silence grabbed the moment.
“And?” Eislen asked.
“She can join us,” Salla said in a tone that implied the issue was settled.
He didn’t know missionaries had that power. “Can you?”
The young woman nodded. “I have learned the rite of our Mother’s bonding, and if you wish, I will perform it.”
He stared at the holy woman in hesitation, but then smiled his consent. Salla shrieked hers.
“Then by the last rays of Faroo before longnight and under the gaze of Jalai it will be so,” the missionary said.
And it was.
Chapter 43 - Respite
39 MAI 15329
The spinning of the Hinden’s dead husk was just sufficient to allow the crew to rest against the floors and walls instead of floating weightless in the cold.
Sarah and Seto were taking advantage of that, huddled under a few shared blankets for warmth. Not that a blanket would do much in the long run against the cold of space, but for the moment it provided both comfort and camaraderie.
“I’m so sorry, Halani,” Sarah said, aware that she was sounding whiny. “I know you planned a future with Lieutenant Harmeen. I’ve deprived you of that.”
“Nonsense,” Seto responded. “Nobody blames you.”
“The commander is always ultimately responsible,” Sarah answered.
“With all due respect, Captain, shut up. Navin is going to get that reactor up, and the fleet is going to pick us up. Orson clearly intends to use the Gaia to leave the system. Once he’s gone, we can work on building a future.”
Sarah laughed. A junior officer had just told her to shut up. “Permission to speak freely granted.”
“We’re just two women under a blanket at this point.”
“I guess we are.”
Silence settled on them for several minutes. It was strange, sitting next to this woman who was as much family as junior officer. They pulled and adjusted the blankets to fill any holes in their insulating armor that might let cold in.
“I watched my husband and boy die on Korvand. I watched Admiral Jerna Heyden die at Hamor. He was like a second father to me. And then Franklin was killed by Merik. And now I get to watch you die next to me as the heat around us fades away,” Sarah said, back in whining mode. “Screw the universe. Merik’s vision was wrong.”
Seto lay her head on Sarah’s shoulder. “I left my world to come fight with you, Captain. I didn’t know that it would be you I’d fight with at the time, of course. Navin says that it was my destiny to be here, to love him, to serve humanity with everyone in the Seventh Fleet. He’s taught me that there is something greater than us.”
“Your man believes in fate.”
“I used to believe it was all nonsense. But look at what’s unfolded.”
“Coincidence,” Sarah scoffed, adding in an uncomfortable laugh.
“You don’t believe that. Merik changed you. We were thrown from Hamor in a fashion our physicists still don’t understand, only to wind up within jumping distance of the one world in existence that contains the next step of human evolution.”
“Yes. Still, nothing you’ve said is beyond the realm of possibility,” Sarah countered.
“Maybe, but at the same time the locals experienced something that exceeded their previous experiences, and they came in touch with an entity greater than humanity. The structure of the universe itself.”
“Which they still superstitiously refer to as gods.”
“That may be so, but Peter thinks it’s possible the universe is complex enough that it is conscious. That it is planning its own destiny.”
Sarah shook her head. “Heard it all from Merik before.”
“And you’re already starting to doubt it’s real,” Seto said. “Merik showed you something that you want to deny exists. So now you discredit her vision. But I think you know it’s true.”
The lights came on in the bridge, and the air handling system whirred behind them.
Activating her magnetic boots, Sarah stood up and extended a hand to Seto. “Looks like your man did his job.”
“I would like you to marry us, if he’s agreeable. If Orson is still out there…”
“Didn’t you just say we were going to make it?” Sarah asked. “This restarts our clock. But it’s a much longer count, now.”
“I’d still like to marry him,” Seto urged.
“Bring him to me in agreement, and I’ll make it happen.”
Chapter 44 - Volunteers
40 MAI 15329
The Fyurigan, the Yascurra, and a dozen overworked grapplers orbited Refuge in formation. All three were at battle condition two, considering combat imminent. Railgun crews were pulling triple shifts, and all others were on double shifts. In two days Thea had slept maybe as many hours and her crews weren’t faring much better.
None of that mattered at the moment, she was determined to protect Refuge at any cost.
Diminutive in stature, she sat on a small cargo box. She had gathered her female marines together in a dry goods storage hold on the Fyurigan. She’d selected the location due to the presence of artificial gravity on the rotating habitation ring. And, due to its massive size, the combat engineering vessel carried the largest number of marines in the fleet.
She was speaking to sixty-four women. All of whom were at least thirty percent bigger than her, and probably fifty percent stronger.
The marines were all sitting at ease, also on cargo boxes. At the moment they were all looking at her in disbelief. She’d just told them she needed fifty of them to voluntarily step into Orson’s foul hands.
“I know it’s a hard thing to stomach. You all know what Orson is. There probably isn’t a woman in this fleet who wouldn’t end him given the chance.”
Several nods in the crowd. At least as many malicious smiles.
“Two days ago a man on the Michael Stennis disobeyed the orders of the officers appointed over him. He did so to stay on the fleet flagship and try to save it from burning up in the atmosphere of Ember. He doesn’t have much chance, to be hones
t, and will likely die.”
Confusion and curiosity dotted the faces staring at her.
“But I approved his request to stay after speaking to him. He’s going to try to save our most powerful symbol of who we are. Warriors. Fighters. We do not give up.”
Nods and smiles. Marines understood symbology.
“I’m proud of him, as I’m proud of every single person who ever put themselves on the line for this fleet,” she continued. “And I’m proud of you. Whether you volunteer today or not.”
The room was deathly quiet. These women needed to know why she was asking them to make this sacrifice.
“I’m not going to order you volunteer. But, if you take this assignment, you might be the one that gets to knife our greatest threat. I need volunteers. Fifty. You will be dressed as naval personnel, not marines. In uniforms that are not yours. But you will be marines in the ways that count. When you board the Gaia, you will wait your chance to overpower Orson and his men.” Thea paused for effect. “To be quite honest, if you fail to take Orson alive I will shed no tears and ask no questions.”
A rumble of laughter erupted from the women.
“Lieutenant Commander Heinrich will be unharmed, no matter what you have to do to ensure that. She has allied with Orson, and I need to know why.”
“She’s a woman,” one of the marines said. “She’s got to be hypnotized or something.”
“My thoughts too,” Thea replied. “But we just don’t know. And we need to find out.”
A young woman, probably eighteen years old at most, sat in front of Thea. As soon as their eyes met the young lady blurted out a question. “What do we do with the Schein’s crew, Captain?”
Captain still sounded strange. As if it was a hat that didn’t fit.
“You’re going to be on the Gaia, not the Schein, at least at first. Your first task is to subdue Orson, and anyone with him. If Orson has the courage to meet you on the colony ship, that is. Once you have the targets down, you will contact me. I will execute the next part of our plan when you have the traitor and secured the vessel you are on.”
