He’s trying to show me he isn’t afraid, but he is. He doesn’t know I can feel his emotions.
Erynn didn’t respond. A chill prickled her skin even though the temperature on the ship was uncomfortably warm.
Newell glanced at her over his shoulder and then back out the clear panels. “Take her to her quarters.”
With a contingent of four armed guards, Faylen led Erynn down murky, narrow corridors, turning right and then left at intersecting halls, and down steep stairs. Their boots rang out on each metal tread.
“I take it my quarters are a well-guarded cell?” Erynn whispered.
“I’m taking you to my quarters.” He glanced at her, smiled, and shrugged. “They’re not much.”
“What about Newell?”
“He’ll think…” Faylen sighed. “We need him to think that you and I are—”
“I get it.” She glanced at the soldiers surrounding her. “What then?”
“I’ll think of something.”
***
His room was small—a single bed, an attached computer station, and a tiny washroom/closet. All gray, the lighting dim, dismal.
When they were behind the closed door, Erynn asked, “How does this work? What is supposed to happen next? I mean after Newell believes he controls Arranon.”
Faylen sat on the bunk and gestured for Erynn to sit with him.
She joined him, realizing she liked Faylen. No, more than just liking. She had developed a fondness toward him, despite the cruelties he committed. He had been an integral part of the murder of innocent people. She knew this was true on Arranon. No doubt, his brutal acts toward others on different worlds were accurate as well. But his nature—his soul—was good. Pushed to discharge his duties by extraordinarily harsh means, he did what was necessary to get his job done, rising to an elevated status. They forced this behavior on him from a young age, and yet, he hadn’t broken. His heart retained the hope, the possibility, of something better.
“The Andor is a battle ship. When Newell is sure of his control over Arranon, he’ll call for specialized personnel and equipment. That’s when the stripping of your worlds begins.”
“What if Korin and Arranon attack? Will another battle ship come to Newell’s aid?”
“No. He’s on his own. Weakened by war, our depleted fleet can’t send help. That’s why your system is so important. Newell’s plan to undermine your civilization before striking is new. If he fails, we go back to the old way of open attacks, which will most likely be the end of us.” He stared at her hands resting in her lap. “But you need to know—an attack from Korin and Arranon against the Andor is pointless. We have a well-established hold with deeply embedded personnel in every aspect of the government and economy of your worlds. The resources, the technology of this ship—its more than your people could withstand.” He glanced at her, his lips curved in a sad smile. “You’d never win.”
“I understand.” She frowned. “Why doesn’t Newell just use the technology he possesses? He could easily accomplish his goal. Why does he need me?”
“He could wipe out every living thing on Arranon. But a strike of that magnitude would also destroy much of what he needs and wants—not to mention the heavy expenditure of energy required from the Andor, the loss of equipment, and men. Newell’s plan involves using the people of Korin and Arranon to continue in their jobs of acquiring and manufacturing what he plans to take. He’ll promise wealth, technology, and position, and then abandon your people when he has no further use for them.” He shook his head and barked out a bitter laugh. “Willing labor.”
She chose her words carefully. “The Andor, the ship’s weapons, could they be made… ineffective?” She put her hand on his arm. “Listen, you’re all dying. Your way of life is destroying you. You have to change this and stop the inevitable.”
He pulled away from her touch, stood up, and ran his hand over his scalp. “You’re asking me to… to…” He shook his head. “I’m not sure that what you’re suggesting is even possible.”
“All I’m asking is that you—we—try and save what is left of the living in this stagnant oppressive environment.”
Faylen stared at the stark metal floor. “We couldn’t just disable the weapons, or the ship. They would eventually fix the damage. The outcome for your worlds would be much worse. The only way to do what you’re proposing is to destroy the Andor. Blow the ship up.” His gaze drifted to her. “There are women and children here.”
His children?
“There must be others—those who are sympathetic, who could be enlisted to help.”
“Maybe, but how would we know who? How do we contact them? How do we arrange evacuation?” He shook his head again, arms hanging limp as his sides. “Then there’s the logistics, the coordinated operation of destroying the Andor.” A long sigh escaped between his pursed lips.
Erynn faced him. “Yes, this is a huge undertaking, but if we don’t try…”
In a low voice full of doubt he asked, “What do you suggest we do?”
“Can we walk about freely? Can you show me the ship?”
“Yes. Newell would presume I was demonstrating our strengths—turning you.”
“Good.” She paused. “There are some things you should know about me, abilities I have.”
His eyes narrowed. “Beyond the electricity, the wind, and the connection with the animals?”
She grimaced and nodded. “I can feel the emotions of people around me.”
He frowned, studying her, and then smiled. His eyes widened as the significance hit him. “When we talk to others on the ship, you can tell if we should trust them or not.”
She nodded, grinned, and glanced at the door. “When can we get started?”
He was silent for a long moment. His smile grew. “Better stay in here a little longer.”
***
“We’ll need to establish a link between those willing to abandon Newell’s practice of conquest and destruction,” Faylen whispered, taking her to the communication unit. Four security officers shadowed their progress along the murky passageways. Faylen glanced at her, and tipped his head, eyebrows bunching. “Is it necessary for you to touch…” He stiffened and rolled his shoulders.
Erynn frowned. “No, I just need to be around people. If I can see them, I can feel their emotions.”
This bothers him. Is it disgust at what I can do, or is he just uneasy about the whole plan?
Erynn opened up to his concerns. The tunnel of light expanded. Emotions pulled at her like strong currents surging in the waters of a swift river.
He doesn’t want anyone else touching me.
“I’ll tell the guards to remain in the corridor. That way, we can talk—if there’s anyone to talk with.”
“Do you think we’ll find others here?”
He stopped and shrugged. “It’s possible.” His fingers tapped across a panel and a door glided open.
The communication unit appeared before her. The lower level of the wide, long space was well lighted and cooler than the rest of the ship. Her eyes scanned the large, busy room. Technicians sat at stacked consoles extending into a second story. Open skywalks ringed an additional three levels, giving access to generators, power units, and what appeared to be data storage. Erynn stared above her into the upper tiers of this massive department. Dark gathered there, broken only by the steady burn of small operation lights, eyes that glowed in the gloom. Deeper shadows perched among the catwalks and cloaked recesses, black shapes waiting to swoop down on wings the color of night, sinking talons into the light to carry the radiance up and away.
A man stood observing the activity from the front of the room and turned when Faylen entered. His eyes narrowed briefly before his attention settled on Erynn. His expression softened.
He’s curious.
In a soft, acquiescent voice, he asked. “Sir, how can I assist you?” Not as tall and less muscled than Faylen, his body had not been fashioned into that of a battle ready soldier. His
gray-blue eyes were set symmetrically in a heart-shaped face topped with short light-brown hair.
He looks so young.
“I’m taking Erynn around the Andor. Would you show her communications, Lieutenant Parin?”
Erynn felt the flutter of Parin’s fear, a soft brush of iridescent centinent wings against her cheek. “I won’t hurt you.” She smiled, stepped forward, and took his hand. The familiar blue currents swirled. She heard him gasp.
Faylen stiffened behind her. “You said you didn’t need to touch, to make close contact for this to work.” His voice had an edge.
She glanced back at Faylen and put a finger to his lips. “Shhhh.” She let go of Parin’s hand. “We need your help. Do you know if there are others, like you, willing to risk their lives for the chance of freedom?”
Parin glanced cautiously over his shoulder and then back to Erynn. “Yes, there are others,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Are there any in transportation?” Faylen asked, stepping next to Erynn. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “If we can’t get off the Andor, any plans we make are useless.”
“Yes.” Parin nodded. “Transportation, the armory, and the medical unit.” He frowned. “No one in security, though.”
Faylen smiled. “We just may be able to do this.” He glanced out at the technicians busy at their duties. “I need to talk with a representative from each departmental division. Can you arrange for me to meet with them?”
Parin’s forehead crinkled. He gazed glassily at the wall behind Erynn. “If I configure the main matrix board with a…” His attention snapped back to Faylen. A wide grin eased the lines over his brow. “Yes. I can link anyone directly to the com-unit in your quarters, Major, and no one will know. Will that be good enough?”
Faylen glanced at Erynn. “You won’t be in their presence—won’t be able to read their emotions.”
She surveyed the consoles a moment and then quietly stepped over to stand behind a technician speaking to an individual over a similar com-unit. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Bright points of red and orange swirled from the technician. She visualized a line from him, passing through the unit, to the man at the other end. More red and orange flashes raced up this imaginary link from the speaker.
Erynn opened her eyes and backed up to stand with Faylen. Once again, the needs of the moment revealed the expanding scope of her abilities.
Just how far will these abilities continue to increase until they stop? If they stop.
The thought frightened as much as intrigued her. She shoved her shaking hands into her pockets. “No, it’s all right. This will work. I can do this.” She fought to keep the tremor out of her voice.
***
Erynn lost track of time in the dim shadows of the Andor. There was no clear demarcation between night and day. The busy schedule of meeting others in sympathy with destroying the Andor added to this sensation. She believed six days had passed since her flight that evening from Cale’s base on Arranon.
Personnel from the armory in agreement with a rebellion from Newell’s regime prepared detonation devices and began placing them in strategic locations around the ship. A united band from transportation worked on evacuation strategies while readying the necessary ships.
The final step—connecting with each imprisoned being on this massive ship, turned out to be enormous. Faylen had just given her an approximate count. The majority would come from the medical unit, which included the sector where the children lived. They numbered in the thousands.
She lay on her back in an obscure half-light falling over Faylen’s bunk, grasping for a quick snooze before they were once again called upon for some logistical problem. But sleep wouldn’t come. Her insides froze. The hot air became difficult to breathe. She felt the enormity of this task.
How can we do this? There are so many. What if we, I, fail them?
She twisted onto her left side and pulled her right knee up.
Faylen sat at a small computer station. His gaze drifted from the monitor to her restless stirring. “Still optimistic?”
She sat up and swung her boots to the floor. “I didn’t realize how many.” She shook her head and took in a deep breath. Icy air slipped between her lips.
The small space inside Faylen’s quarters swirled in a twisting wind. The stifling atmosphere cooled, fragrant with the spicy scent of the Anim Blath.
Erynn calmed and smiled. “Yes. Yes, I’m still sure this will work.”
He glanced at the enviro-processor unit humming quietly above the bunk and then to Erynn. “How did you…” He didn’t finish the question. “I thought you would need to be on Arranon or Korin.”
“I thought so, too.”
Her father’s words came to her. “Show him the magic, the storm. It’s in you, Erynn.”
***
Standing in a shadowed recess overlooking the large docking bay, Faylen and Erynn waited for a liaison chosen by members of the splinter group. Faylen received word of the need for an urgent meeting only moments ago, rousting Erynn from an uneasy sleep.
She surveyed the area. Three immense open portals lined this side of the ship. The view of space beyond shimmered, distorted by the force field holding in the atmosphere.
Erynn wheeled on Faylen and frowned. “Why would they want to meet with me and you, and so suddenly? Could security know? Maybe this is a trap.”
“I doubt this is a trap.” He glanced at her and grinned. “You would have sensed something was off.”
She dropped her gaze. “You’re right. We haven’t been discovered, but…” Erynn’s stomach churned with the unsettling perception that she’d missed something.
He went back to watching his surroundings. “The reason must be important, though. Information they didn’t feel secure passing to us other than in person.”
Soft footsteps and a rustling of fabric came from the dark behind them.
Their contact had arrived. A man? Yes, a male presence, but not human.
His strong need crashed in around her from behind, overpowering. At the same time, a strong hatred slammed against her from the direction of the bay. She felt as if she were moving and trying to draw breath in a weightless vacuum. The gravity holding her together, along with the air she needed, seemed to be gone.
A young man with short blond hair and sharp blue eyes strode toward them through the bay, glaring at Erynn. “Major Faylen. How may I assist you?” His words cut through the stagnant air.
She took a step back and reduced her exposure to his emotion. The tunnel in her mind spiraled into a faint point of light.
I expected the fear, but there’s loathing. Not good.
“Captain Wieran, go on with your duties. If I need you, I’ll tell you.” Faylen’s tone rose, his words harsh.
“Of course, sir.” He started to turn away and stopped. He stared past them into the dark and stepped forward.
“Is there something else, Captain Wieran?” Faylen’s voice boomed and echoed in the cavernous space.
Wieran pulled his attention from the shadows. “If you don’t mind, sir, I’m curious why you would bring her here.” His gaze swung to Erynn, eyes narrowed, upper lip curled.
“When my business with Admiral Newell involves second-grade officers, I’ll be sure to include you. Until that time, go on with your duties, Captain.”
Wieran scowled and gave Faylen a slight bow. He turned to the open bay. His eyes smoldered with rage when he glanced back at Erynn. She didn’t need to open herself to sense his emotions. She could see them. Wieran grabbed a crewman’s collar and slammed the man’s face against the hull of one of the small ships. The man bounced back, his hands covering his nose. Blood smeared the pale, smooth surface of the craft.
Men making repairs or doing maintenance on the smaller ships stopped and stared before returning, with added fervor to their tasks. Their lives were fear—a constant anguish full of despair. They had no expectations of a better existence.
“Erynn,” Faylen whispered hoarsely. “What’s wrong? You’re… shimmering.”
Orange and red points of light danced about her. “Sorry, I don’t like him. He’s trouble.”
“I can handle Wieran. Newell won’t question me as long as I’m keeping you under control. He believes I can help him get what he wants from you.”
Wieran glanced back at Erynn. He stared at her a moment, eyes still narrowed.
She straightened and returned his glare, matching his burning resentment.
An alarm sounded at the far end of the bay. Wieran gave her one last leer and hurried off in the direction of the problem. The space before them emptied of personnel.
“What is that?”
Faylen shrugged. “Probably an air leak.”
“An air leak?” Erynn’s eyes widened and she stared at Faylen.
“He’s gone. You can come out,” Faylen whispered over his shoulder.
A figure stepped out of concealment but stayed in the shadows. “I don’t have much time, so listen.” His voice was high and soft, with a slight warble.
Erynn turned to face their contact.
“No. Don’t look at him.” Faylen grabbed her, pulled her into an awkward embrace, and kissed her—kept kissing her—hard and long.
She started to pull away, stopped, and put her arms around his neck.
We can’t appear to be talking with anyone. This pretense is to protect our contact.
With her senses open, she knew the sentiment coming from Faylen regarding this kiss was neither ruse nor act. For him, this was an opportunity, clumsy and unyielding as his attempt was.
He’s falling in love with me.
A dull ache settled in around her heart.
I can’t respond to him in the way he wants.
Storm of Arranon Page 26
