by Reiter
Born to be a planter, Neesara had put down the tools of the field and picked up the weapons of the warrior. That had been fifty-two seasons ago, the moon after Lauryll had been born. F’Karoon had never questioned her and now she was, in every way, the Shield Maiden of the Defender. Watching over the Spirit-Walker of the tribe was F’Karoon’s current short-stride… she would assist him.
“Name yourselves,” Neesara demanded as she ran back to her twin brother. “You have my blood in your grasp. I will lay low a spirit to keep his warmth on this side of the Misty Moon!”
“Rest you blade hand, Shield Maiden,” Black Tongue said, speaking in his Spirit Voice though she had never heard so many in the chorus. Feeling the presence of so many who had come before her, Neesara dropped to her knees. “Two of the false stride have taken from their guise, and now the light shines through the way it must. Your blood is strong with the spirits… your dream’s blood even stronger… surely you knew this day would come.
“The blood season has come for her and the spirits now make their claim on her as they do upon all the L’Konno who possess the strength to answer the call.”
“But what call would bring down the fire of the storm?” Neesara thought.
Willow Cha was already prepared to call unto the Great Mother for guidance and she did not look up when the towering figure entered the hut, quickly dropping to his knee. She spoke before he had the opportunity.
“Do not apologize for showing love, F’Karoon,” the old one said as she chuckled. “Step with her into the fire and know the strength of the spirits.” It was not a common request to receive, but the Defender had seen too much, done too much, to start questioning the one who had put him to his path and guided him when he was lost or afraid. He stood up and walked into the fire in the middle of the hut. The fire quickly turned blue and burned into his yellow skin. He closed his eyes as he felt the power of his body increase as it did whenever he expected an attack.
“The tribe?” F’Karoon asked, opening his eyes to see flame coming out of his mouth.
“The tribe is well and safe… for the moment. You sense the attack that is not yet here, and you sense it because your gifts now mix with your child’s. Step back, Defender, and know that your child is a Seer!”
“But she declared for hunter!” F’Karoon replied, walking out of the fire. “She chose and you put her to the path. Already she is a better archer than her father when he was her age.”
“A fact you have failed to tell her, too,” Willow Cha said, lifting a glaring eye at the warrior. “And being a Seer does not mean she cannot also be a hunter. It only means she has a fourth eye, one that reads the Night-Eyes. Already she sees the future of the tribe, and that is why you brace for war.”
“Who comes to attack us?!” F’Karoon asked.
“Ask the one who sees them, Defender.”
“And what of the skyfire?” he pressed. “What does vision have to do with her screams and calling down the storm?”
“I told you when she began her path she would be a hunter like no other,” Willow Cha reminded the powerful man. “Teach her of the bow, but be not slighted when she will no longer need arrows to strike her quarry. That too has begun to grow inside her as she takes her first stride as a woman!”
“Father?” Lauryll called as she looked up into his face.
“Come, little one… I mean, Lauryll,” he quickly corrected to the smiling nod of Willow Cha. “You have much to tell us.”
“I do father,” Lauryll admitted. “Such dreams I had.”
“No, not dreams, Lauryll,” he corrected. “Visions. Sights of those who stride beyond these grounds. You see through the light of the Night-Eyes. Whatever they can see, you can watch. When you are ready, tell us what you saw.”
“I will,” Lauryll promised as she put her hand on her father’s chest. “But I am still your little one, am I not?”
“That would be my wish,” F’Karoon said with a bright smile.
“Mine as well, father.”
It took some time for the L’Konno to gather themselves. The morning would be greeting them soon and there had to be a significant change made to the daily chores. A lodge had been destroyed, and it would have to be rebuilt. The family of that lodge secured where they would sleep once the Telling was done, and everyone gathered at the lightning-struck fire to hear what Lauryll had to say. Once she stepped out of the fire, the young girl looked into the eyes of her people and smiled.
“He is not L’Konno,” Lauryll started, “this one I saw.”
“Is he Terran?” a tribesman asked, hoping for a ‘no’ response.
“He is not of any stride of Terran,” Lauryll explained. “He must be a Sky-Strider. His skin is blue like the sky just before a soft rain and his hair is white like the clouds. He is a great warrior, strong and wise. His heart is heavy with the sorrow of countless lives passed, but it burns with the intent of a hunter.”
“Countless, daughter?” F’Karoon asked, concerned about anyone who had seen so much death.
“Countless, Defender and father,” she confirmed. “He has caused more passings than my loving father, and he has witnessed even more passings than that! But he is not a destroyer, he calls himself a Traveler, a Star Chaser!” The tribe murmured as they all looked up into the glorious night sky; so vast, so wonderful and beautiful. They knew what the word ‘star’ meant, and they pondered what it would be to call oneself an entity that would race after the Night-Eyes.
“When my eyes first came to him, he stood in a chamber of a vessel of the black sky.”
“And he is not a Terran?!” the same tribesman inquired.
“He swims the black sky like the Terrans, but his boat swims faster and stronger than any of these lands. His boat has come through harsh waters and it is wounded. Unfamiliar waters surround him, and the Terrans that claim those waters approach. They are of the green-hued warriors.”
“The greenskins!” a tribesman spoke, looking at the Defender who lifted a single eyebrow.
“The Ardrian Tribe,” F’Karoon said softly. He had dealt with them on several occasions and while he and the tribe had survived, the Ardrians were among the few who could make them leave their seasonal ground before the proper time. “They are strong! How many stand with the Sky-Strider?”
“Not many,” Lauryll said, closing her eyes to recall the images. “At first I saw only two… a Healer and a Light Walker.”
** b *** t *** o *** r **
“Are you sure?” Jovasor asked, holding the small device he had been asked to carry. Dungias secured his cloak and reached for the device. “This whole thing sounds risky to me.”
“Once again, Doctor, the aim is not to remove the risk, but to minimize it,” Dungias stated as he checked the pulse generator. In Jocasta terms, the thing was on its last leg and had been left on the ship some time ago after one of the trips the pair had made. The Traveler had applied a bit of maintenance and some testing. It was not a very powerful unit, but it was something he did not mind discarding.
“But there’s got to be a limit of things you can walk through!” Jovasor continued.
“I am fairly sure that limit exists,” Dungias returned. “That is why I am taking the pulse generator, to increase the strength of the field and allow me to phase through the armoured hull.”
“But it will be outside the ship. What happens if you need to get out?”
“I will open a door,” Dungias answered as he turned to face Rahneece. “How goes the training, Star?”
Rahneece smiled at the name her Teacher had given her. It was not as ethnic as Ephaliun’s and it certainly was not as cute as Teela’s, but there was poetry in its simplicity and she did not mind it in the least.
“The man’s a Star Chaser,” she had thought, “and he wants to call me Star?! Hell yes!!!”
It had been an eventful three weeks. Dungias had managed to steal a freighter, loading the Kulri-Kraythe aboard and making the freighter nothing more than a booster
rocket that was discarded as such the moment they were out of the gravitational pull of the planet. They ate, they slept, they trained, and they worked on the scout ship. It had been slow going in the first ten days, but eventually Satithe was back on line and she was able to assist with the ship’s self-repair features and the two drones. There was a great deal of work to be done and Dungias’ personal stealth field unit was next to worn out trying to cover the ship. The secondary unit he had been able to fashion was intermittent at best, hence their current problem.
“Jordan’s more sure of what we can do than I am, Z,” Rahneece huffed as she shook her head. “But we’re ready to do our best.”
“Tend first to your need to breathe heavily and shake your head,” Dungias advised. “I understand the need to acknowledge a moment. Your extra measures, however, do nothing with the moment.”
“I understand, Teacher.”
“Ulios, are you ready at the controls?”
“Ulios ready, Teacher.”
“Good. Should you receive my order to depart, you will engage engines and make your way to the rendezvous point.
“You’re not going to give that order,” Rahneece argued.
“That is not my intent, but there are many ways this engagement can go. Let us all fare well then.” The Traveler did not wait for a response. He leaned into a sprint for the wall, jumping and passing through the hull. Jovasor turned to look at Rahneece.
“No,” she said softly. “That never gets old!”
“Wait, he wasn’t wearing an environmental suit!”
“Sure wasn’t,” Rahneece said as she turned to walk to the cockpit. “We ready on those false body signatures?”
“Well of course we are,” Jovasor said, running to catch up with Rahneece. “But does the phasing protect him from zero atmosphere?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied, taking a seat at Operations Console. “I’m sure it could, if he held the field that long. That would be a drain on his suit’s reserves though.”
“Well, what other option would he have?” Jovasor pressed.
“You haven’t had a chance to examine him, have you? The Malgovi were built to be explorers of outer space, Doc. They can actually survive in outer space without a suit, for a short period of time.”
“How long is a ‘short period of time’?”
“I think Z said he was up to like… ten hours, or something in that neighborhood,” Rahneece said checking her readouts. “You ready for this stuff, Satithe?”
“Affirmative,” the computer replied. “We have been scanned now for the fifteenth time.”
“Man, that is one paranoid commander!” Jovasor monitored.
“Actually, Doctor, in Ardrian Space, the responsibilities of detection are left to the scores of stations the Ardrians have constructed and scattered over their region. Laying across the sectors like a spider’s web, the satellites feel the slightest vibration on any of their web-strands and can communicate that vibration almost immediately to any ship. It is actually a far superior system than most ship sensors. Z had to make a few changes to his personal stealth field to foil Ardrian sensors.”
“How does he know what changes to make?” Jovasor asked.
“All right, calm the hell down!” Rahneece snapped. “Just because this is your first time seeing him deal with Ardrians, doesn’t mean this is his first time dealing with them!”
Jovasor pressed his lips together as he shrank away from Rahneece. “Sorry.”
“Last person to complain, trust me,” Rahneece said in a calmer tone. “I think to Z, fear should be handled the same way you look at risk: minimize it, because you’re never going to get rid of it. Without fear, we run a greater risk of doing something stupid! Same thing happens when you have too much though.”
“How to find the happy medium though,” Jovasor commented.
“You might try recognizing that the baddest bad-ass you’ve ever known trusts you to help him with his plan!”
Jovasor snickered, quickly covering his mouth. “Is that how you get through it?”
“I’ll let you know once we’re through it, Doc.”
“Roger that,” Jovasor sighed.
“The Ardrians are keeping their distance,” Dungias thought as he glided through the Void. He smiled at their precaution as he used gravity to increase his velocity. The scan field intensity was too strong in the vicinity for him to risk using his goggles to scan the interior of the Hard Charger. Everything was going to come down to precise timing. Dungias monitored his speed.
He activated the three-second countdown for the self-destruct feature and then fired the energy pulse. Tossing the generator aside, Dungias somersaulted to go through the hull feet-first, landing on a support beam just as the field collapsed. His cloak fell around his body as he put one hand down on the beam. Now that he was inside the ship, he signaled for his necklace to change into his mask and helmet. He could see a catwalk beneath him and a female walking by under him. Dungias dropped down and passed through the catwalk to the next deck, going solid and landing on the floor of a storage room.
“What was that?” a female voice came from around the corner of the stacked crates.
“I didn’t hear anything!” a man argued as Dungias could hear a seam-zipper opening. “Come on we only have fifteen minutes!”
“Tell me why it isn’t your turn to go down on me?” the woman asked.
“Because he’s selfish,” Dungias said, pushing the woman’s forehead into the man’s face. He started to deliver an electric shock to her, but she was too quick in her turn. She smacked away his hand and turned around with a strong right cross. Dungias ducked under the punch, lunging by the woman to thrust his fist into the man’s sternum. His back-kick caught the woman in the stomach and she grunted as she doubled over. He turned and delivered a sharp strike to the back of her head. The woman only dropped to one knee. Dungias jumped back, avoiding a powerful uppercut, and his back collided with the man’s face, driving his head into the stack of crates behind him. The woman tried to keep her attack fluid after missing. She put one hand in the other and swung hard. Dungias ducked under the swing, lifting his knee up into her ribs. He then grabbed the back of her head and drove the woman’s face into the floor.
“Ardrians!” he whispered, opening his satchel. Teela and Ephaliun rolled out, ready to fight. “We are in the clear,” Dungias reported. “You each of have a uniform to put on. Bambi, you will need to wear the man’s clothes.”
“This is a seriously big and sexy lady!” Ephaliun whispered as he rolled over the unconscious woman. “They grow ‘em big in Ardrian Space!” The young man started disrobing the woman and he looked up at his teacher. “Have you mulled it over?”
“I have, and I am still not comfortable with your suggestion,” Dungias said.
“But?” Teela asked as she removed the man’s shirt.
“But it is difficult to argue with your reasoning,” Dungias admitted. “The most important thing at this juncture is the control of this ship’s communication systems.”
“If one of us can get to the central ventilation system, we can drop a sleep agent and have the Hard Charger all to ourselves!” Ephaliun said with a smile. “… no matter how many alarms they might hit before they actually fall out.
“And all of that will be helped if we can cause some sort of distraction,” Teela added, “… like a fight between two Marines. Satithe, you got that fake identity entered into their system?”
“With horrifying ease,” Satithe replied. “You are ready to cause a commotion, Specialist Kezzl. Given your current location, you only need to go down one deck. That is where the Commandos congregate to pass the time. You know how you Infantry boys hate those Commandos!”
“Satithe, you are not helping!” Dungias scorned.
“Yes, I am, Master. And if Bambi can begin in the next three minutes, this ship will still be waiting for the results of the latest sensor sweep of the Kulri-Kraythe. To her credit, Star has already star
ted flashing the one working outer light in Morse Code, requesting immediate assistance.”
“Fine,” Dungias relented, “but alert me at once if you come to an impasse.”
“So you can do what?” Ephaliun inquired.
“Amaze you, if need be!” Dungias shot back with a glare in his eyes.
Gulping as he relaxed his face, Ephaliun nodded. “Sounds good to me. Keep your ears on!”
“When will you ever learn?” Teela sighed as she donned her cap and started for the door. Ephaliun was one step behind her and Dungias jumped up through the ceiling.
“So glad my stuff can change how it looks,” Ephaliun whispered. “Hate to go into this fight with Ardrian equipment.”
“Are they that bad?” Teela asked as she reached the door.
“Why do you think Ardrians are so damn tough?” Ephaliun asked rhetorically. “When the guns don’t shoot, they eat the enemy!” Teela giggled as the door opened. She walked out and took a quick turn for the lift. Ephaliun had already verified his best course to reach the ventilation controls and access panels. There was a definite smile on his face; proud that he had been able to suggest something to Dungias and have it received as a better plan. The smile was also there because he knew why Dungias had laid out the plan in the fashion he had: he was protecting them, and it felt good to be worth protecting by their teacher.
“I’m about fifty seconds out people,” Ephaliun reported. “Be ready to put your mas–”
“Warning!” Satithe broadcasted to everyone, “… the Hard Charger just received orders to fire on the Kulri-Kraythe!”
