Star Angel: Rising (Star Angel Book 4)

by David G. McDaniel

  he tried to infuse her with a confidence he himself only barely maintained. With each passing hour it slipped. He was afraid for her. Her urge to transition could be felt, an energy in the very air around her; this girl, this being, wanted out, and if the body would not—could not—handle the strain of her great aching, then she would go. Off to wherever she would. To start again.

  Galfar did not want that. Desperately not. He wanted this girl to remain. Though he’d only just met her his conviction continued to build. She must remain.

 

  For the world was at a crux. A terrible turning point. And Galfar could not shake the idea that if she went, if this girl left now, that turn might be for the worse. Down a deeper path of darkness. One from which it would be that much harder to find the way. He did not yet understand his own intuition in the matter, did not yet know why he felt as he did, more so each moment in her presence, but at his advanced age and with his understanding of the world and the ways of the past and what was foretold to come, he’d learned to believe in this instinct. Here, laying on the cot before him, in his humble hut, on this world so far from the real dangers of the universe, was someone important. Instinct told him he must speak with her. She did not arrive by chance. She was there at the end of a long and treacherous journey, also likely following personal instinct, not likely out of any understanding of her own. Nevertheless she was there, and he was there, and the opportunity of this union must not—could not—be missed.

  he said, touching the damp rag to her angelic, agonized face.
  he told her.

  He didn’t expect an answer. He got none. She continued to mumble.

  Though he had the encouraging thought that she understood.

  **

  Another howl. This one closer. The wolves were circling.

  Zac barely heard.

  Snow coated him from the steady fall last night. During the day it hadn’t warmed enough to melt and so remained as it was, no wind strong enough to brush it away, no sun in the cloudy sky to help it dissolve. No effort on his part to do anything about it. He’d not moved. Night fell and it accumulated more, dusting him in a fresh coat, powdering his crossed legs where he sat against the tree. He knew it was also on his shoulders and in his hair. Covered in a layer of white.

  The dark was deep on that high peak, no lights to be found, stars hidden behind the thick overcast and only an occasional sliver of moon when the clouds parted enough to let it shine through. Which wasn’t often. Mostly the world up on that mountain was unrelenting black. Cold and dark.

  Despite the darkness Zac’s vision pierced the night. He saw everything. There were definitely wolves out there. Loping between the trees. A pack of them, like big dogs, long snouts and fangs, working their way carefully toward him. He imagined he must present a tempting opportunity. The mountain was barren of large animals, at least as far as his heightened senses told him, and these wolves were hungry.

  Even with this change in the monotony, however, he could not bring himself into focus. Sitting in that one spot through day and night and day and … staring at nothing, watching the weather change, seeing nothing, finding no will to press on. He could muster no movement. Could rouse himself to no action. He knew he should do something.

  He felt he could just sit forever.

  Then one of the wolves was beside him. Somehow he missed its final approach as his mind meandered. Now there it was, the others gathering behind. It was the biggest, probably the leader, and Zac found himself impressed with the size of the animal. It wasn’t quite as big as a man, but for a dog it was huge. Black and gray, eyes sparkling in the blackness, fangs glinting.

  He wished it would just go away. Perhaps if he moved he could startle them. Yet his apathy was so deep he couldn’t even lift a hand. Couldn’t leap up, couldn’t yell … nothing. His will was gone. And so he just sat there, exactly as he had been, moving only his eyes to follow where they paced, side to side, sizing him up. He could tell they were greatly confused by his behavior. Or lack of. Here was their prey, quite alive, and yet it just sat there. Not reacting in any way. Was it alive? they seemed to be thinking.

  Cautiously the leader moved in.

  Zac watched as it closed, head level with his own, the animal on all fours, Zac sitting against the tree, face to face with the beast. It snarled, lips peeling back to show an impressive set of teeth. It did this for a while, gauging what it intended, then lunged. Zac’s neck was its target, and he found himself distantly impressed with its ability to pick the most vulnerable spot on the human form.

  Of course he was vulnerable nowhere, and so that first clamp was met with a yelp—and an immediate withdrawal as the fangs failed to gain purchase. The wolf might as well have bitten the tree—and in fact for an instant it looked like that’s what its mind told it. After the initial shock a look crossed its eyes, almost like a human reaction; a look of surprise like a human might’ve had if they thought they’d just made a mistake. Confusion.

  The wolf shook its head and lunged again. This time for an arm, head sideways and biting onto Zac’s bicep. The other wolves had closed and now dove in too, following the leader on his second attack. In an instant Zac was swarmed by five of the big, hairy beasts. They bit and thrashed, latching on and twisting, moving him violently beneath their mass, shoving this way and that—yelping in frustration and, finally, fear, as each attack yielded no result. Swarming, snarling, barking loudly, biting again and again as if to confirm what they could not at first process:

  This food could not be eaten.

  One jumped back and that time stayed away. Another joined it, threw back its head and howled. Then the leader leapt away and the rest followed. They barked at Zac, snapping their teeth. Frustrated and afraid. Then, all at once, it was as if the whole thing became too much for their limited courage and …

  They withdrew. Barking and looking back, stopping now and again to yowl in anger and stare, turning and running, barking and snapping, white teeth ferocious in the no-light.

  Useless.

  Finally, as if making a collective decision, they fled. A full sprint away from him, not stopping. Running in pent-up terror as if he were a ghost.

  He watched them go.

  Maybe I am.

  Some short while later he heard them howling in the distance. That long, mournful sound they’d been making all night. The moon slipped through a thin patch of clouds, bringing everything under its dim, baleful glow.

  It brought him a little more alert. He gathered his focus; pushed back and straightened himself against the tree. Moved for what felt like the first time in days, situating himself like he’d been before the wolves shoved him around. Settled back into his spot.

  He looked down.

  At least they’d shaken off the snow.

  **

  “I can’t take much more of this.” Satori kicked a boot against the console and leaned back in her seat. She scrunched further down, trying to find a comfortable position. There was none. The Kel fighter had never been designed for anyone to spend that much time aboard.

  “Should we pop up a little and see if we can make contact?” Willet was getting antsy too. Patient as he was, as easy going, Satori could tell he was just as edgy. The confines of the Kel fighter had been closing in, wearing them both down, and while it had food and water and all the things they needed to stay there safely on the bottom of the ocean, they were slowly losing their minds.

  “Not yet,” she slid roughly to the left, shifting her weight. It didn’t help. “Nani said she would contact us once she had something figured out. I assume she’s still hiding.”

  “What if she isn’t?”

  Satori looked over at him. Willet sat across from her in the other chair, twisted round with his legs up at a slouch that looke
d even less comfortable than hers. She stared at him.

  Having the same thoughts, of course. Resisting with great difficulty the urge to move, to find out. There’d been no more communication forthcoming. A few heartfelt conversations once they established their respective positions, but nothing after that. Only Nani could initiate that connection, and on their last call she’d been worried over compromise and said she would reconnect once she figured out a solution. Since then Satori and Willet assumed the Reaver was still in hiding and Nani was waiting for the right moment. Likely that was the case. Why wouldn’t it be? Yet …

  What if the Reaver was gone.

  How long should they wait to find out?

  That was the burning question.

  She turned her attention back to the viewscreen, out to their watery grave. The fighter was “landed”, sitting at the bottom of the deepest trench in this ocean, so far below the surface there was absolutely no natural light. The landing gear were out and they were parked on the ground, just as if they’d come to an alien world, one with water for an atmosphere. The life forms and formations outside certainly helped paint that picture. It was a very strange place.

  There would be nothing they could do anyway, she told herself. If the Reaver had been destroyed or if it left, what options did that leave?

  Of a sudden the thought of that gave her a terrible sense of dread. The reality of that possibility, little more than a mental exercise until then, hit her. Right in the pit of her stomach. They had no way back. This world was likely being invaded even as they sat there in their undersea coffin. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere left to run. If the Reaver was gone …

  It was over.

  In reaction to the sudden panic gripping her she twisted her head back around toward Willet. Desperation was in her eyes and she knew it but he was, thankfully, staring into the abyss. He didn’t witness her fear. Mentally she calmed herself. The cabin lights were off, just a few instruments lighting them with their soft glow. Most of the light illuminating their faces came from the screen itself.

  She didn’t want to be afraid. Not like she was suddenly feeling.

  “How do you think we should play it?” she asked, forcing an indifference into her words.

  “You’re the commander,” he said, not bothering to look in her direction. Not getting the subtlety of emotion in her voice. It was a standard Willet response. He was so used to her being in charge, so used to her toughness he failed completely at times to sense when she needed him. Right then she needed him to be more than her junior officer.

  Willet had a certain, insouciant approach to things, which was a big part of what drew her to him. Nothing ever got him down. No matter the difficulty, no matter if it were life and death, he always managed to find a way to look at things not so seriously. She fed on that. Tried to emulate it. Many times it had gotten her through a difficult situation.

  Right then she needed that Willet.

  “So I command you to give me your thoughts,” she said. Her fear was only getting stronger, a rising terror, in truth, and she cursed herself for letting it take hold.

  Willet turned. Handsome. Strong. Forever confident.

  “We should give them a little more time,” he said. “I think, if anything, we’ve all proven we’re a pretty resourceful bunch. Nani is probably up to something. I’m sure we’ll hear from her soon.”

  But it wasn’t simple reassurance she was after.

  “Probably,” she said, hoping he saw deeper. He looked at her, face not far away at the co-pilot’s station and … his eyes flickered in the low light.

  Understanding what she could never say.

  And as he saw it he slid forward, twisting completely to face her. Leaned toward her and took her hand. She remained scrunched in her seat, legs up, trying not to let the tears come.

  “Though,” he said, somewhat conspiratorially, “it could be fun to go out guns blazing. If it comes to that, that will be Plan B. What do you say?”

  She smiled thinly. He returned it with a grin of his own, teeth white in the dim light.

  “How many times have we been right here, just like this?” he asked. “Facing certain doom?”

  Many, she thought grimly, too many, desperate to capture the sense of camaraderie, the devil-may-care attitude he was trying to project.

  “Why do we keep getting ourselves into these hopeless situations?” he wanted to know. “Is this really what we want our relationship to be? I mean, what about going to dinner? Maybe a day in the park. Why is that such a problem?” He shook his head and at last she laughed. “Oh no,” he said. “Not us. Lives on the line, firefights to the death, hiding under oceans, no way out … that’s our idea of fun. Apparently. We’re great with all that. We’ve had a hundred deadly “dates”. The Date of Doom.” He said this last in a mock booming voice, and she felt a touch of serenity come over her, finally tasting that feeling he always managed to instill.

  “Maybe after this we’ll have a few normal dates,” she offered.

  He nodded. “Definitely after this we have a few normal dates. Maybe even all normal dates. Call it quits altogether with crap like this. Start a family or something.”

  She was about to make a snip about how she wasn’t about to get fat, or have a baby or go through a bunch of crappy pregnancy hormones or any of another handful of smart-ass remarks that came immediately to mind but that Satori just sounded like a bitch right then. And she realized that maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t the real Satori anyway. Maybe that Satori was just a front. That Satori was the one that usually did most of the talking, but that didn’t make her the boss. It didn’t make her who she really was.

  And so, instead, she said softly:

  “I’d like that.”

  Willet watched her a long moment. Such tenderness in his eyes she realized his real self was something deeper as well. She’d always known that, of course, but, like her, his brash other self was the one that spent the most time on display. Gently he reached and put a hand to her cheek. Stroked it slowly, down to her chin and held it there.

  “Damn, those will be some beautiful babies,” he said, the brash Willet coming back to the fore. Then: “Even if they get all my ugly … this beauty will totally overcome it.”

  She smiled. Chin still in hand he leaned and kissed her. It was a tender kiss but she pushed hard into him, desire sweeping over her and she was in his arms. He embraced her as she pulled him to her, then lifted her gently from the seat and carried her to a small section of floor near the rear seating.

  Emotions in that moment ran deep. Fear, uncertainty; the absolute hope for the victory they deserved. The desperate wish they come out the other side whole and alive and with a future to call their own. One where a family might actually be possible.

  And Willet was with her. More completely than anyone ever had been. They would make it. Together.

  Never had she loved him more.

  **

  “So what else do we know about them?” the President asked. Drake was on hand, along with General Peterson and a few other highly qualified smart men, discussing the next best course of action on a path that increasingly had no direction. Bending their minds to something that could not be solved. It had become a simple discussion of how to mitigate losses.

  Drake shook his head. He knew they were all looking to him to answer that question, but everything he’d already told them was everything he knew.

  “Nothing else,” he said. “Anything more we’ll need to gather by direct observation.”

  “Our scans have given us all the specifics they can for now,” one of the officials noted. “We’re piecing together everything we’ve got.”

  “If we only had one of these Kel,” the President was frustrated enough for all of them. “Or one of their ships or a piece of their technology. Anything. A computer or something.”

  Wishful thinking, but the President was just vocalizing what was on all their minds. So far there were few ideas. The aliens were about to b
egin a systematic invasion if the humans didn’t surrender, and there would be no surrender. The President’s efforts to engage the aliens in direct diplomacy had failed. Indeed, the cold reception the human delegation received gave Drake a chill. The effort ended up being almost debasing.

  Now that some of the initial chaos had scaled back and reality set in the voices of the rest of the world had grown louder. An uproar in fact, the major powers—even the minor, trying to exert individual will in the midst of the crisis—unable to let go of the fury they felt that the President took it upon himself to represent the will of them all. In the wake of that others tried to engage the Kel, to speak for the Earth, but nothing stood. Desperate fear by a handful of leaders and the Kel took it only as a sign of disunion and further confirmation of what they were going to do from the outset:

  Invade.

  And so as the prospect of that loomed those same leaders and others all around the world flooded the lines, yelling at the Americans and demanding discussions and plans and all sorts of things that just weren’t going to happen. The President knew, with great conviction, someone had to rise up and take charge and he was doing just that. There was no time for a confab or a vote or a feel-good debate about who was going to hold what position in this global debacle. No time to decide who would steer the sinking ship. America was the biggest and the de facto leader and they were taking a stand. The rest could either lace up their boots or not. Either way America was going to war. A few were falling in line. At least those that hadn’t been paralyzed with their own dysfunction. It was interesting how all the cracks showed during times of stress. America was so far holding strong, mostly, at least throughout its ranks, but in this short span of time there were some countries that had already fragmented. Some entirely.

  “I mean,” Drake wished he had more, “we’ve done some extrapolations from the info we have, but the source material is based on questionable data as it is. We have indications, strong indications, that the Bok knowledge of the Kel was handed down in its original form, but no way to confirm the validity of that origin.” Then: “My team is digesting the info we found at that castle as fast as they can. In the end, though, there may be nothing useful there. Not for this situation, at least.”