Using his HUD’s phase-shift menu, Jason located and locked on to those still on board the ship and in a flash, Mollie, Rizzo, and Hanna appeared beside them.
“Where’s Teardrop?!” Mollie yelled, looking among those around them.
“And Prince Aqeel?!” Hanna added.
“Damn!” Jason watched in horror as his personal, multi-billion dollar yacht continued to be flung, from one set of hairy arms to the next. “Ricket … I need some help here,” he shouted. He wasn’t getting a lock on Prince Aqeel’s location.
“The prince is within the MediPod. We are not able to phase-shift him here while it’s in mid-operation.” Ricket sounded desperate.
“Can you get Teardrop?” Mollie yelled, when suddenly the droid appeared in a flash by her side. She looked instantly relieved.
Jason watched in shock as the Stellar dropped toward the ground—only to be snatched up at the last moment by a huge female swine.
Orion caught Jason’s eye. “I’ll go. I can get the prince out of the MediPod, then phase-shift us both out.”
“No … I’ll go,” Jason said, already adjusting his HUD settings.
Mollie yelled, “Oh my God!”
Jason looked up, seeing the Stellar fly through the air in a high, wide arc. The beasts were done playing catch. The vessel was about to crash to the ground, some fifty feet away, and there was not a thing he, or anyone else, could do about it. Not only would the prince be killed—their only ticket off this planet would be gone—destroyed.
Ten feet above the ground, the Stellar disintegrated.
No one said anything—even the swine-like beasts went quiet—all eyes focused on the spot where the ship had last been.
“I thought the Stellar couldn’t phase-shift, Cap,” Billy said.
Jason looked around and found Ricket.
“That was not a phase-shift, Captain.”
The beasts began angrily clamoring again. A shadow passed overhead—the original swine was back with one of its legs held high in the air. Jason phase-shifted away just as a stomping hoof impacted the ground where he’d been standing.
“They’re angry about their lost toy!” Hanna said, running for cover. The others scurried into the thick foliage too, as stomping hooves crashed down all around them.
“Time to go,” Jason said, readying to phase-shift the lot of them away—to anywhere but where they were standing. Before he could do that, two of the giant swine-like beasts erupted into magnificent hot fireballs.
Multiple plasma bolts rained down from above. One by one, the rest of the huge beasts scurried off in a frantic chorus of squeals.
Jason had to smile when he heard the familiar, squeaky voice over his comms: “What the fuck were those things?” He watched as the one-of-a-kind Rogue Class warship appeared in the sky above. It was the Parcical.
“Bristol! You have impeccable timing … and I think you’ve just earned yourself a promotion.”
Chapter 20
“I’m not wearing this … this god-awful thing,” Boomer said, staring down at the garment Drom had tossed over to her.
“It’s called a Tammy Wrap. What’s wrong with it?” he asked.
With an incredulous expression, she answered back. “Have you looked at your own reflection? Don’t they have mirrors on this old barge?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. Who cares? Look around you, it’s what all the Bassilion traders are wearing.”
“Fine.” Boomer stooped over, picking up what looked like a pile of rags off the deck, and disappeared behind a nearby bulkhead. She slipped out of her tournament clothes and let them fall to the deck. Suddenly conscious of her total nakedness, she hurried—holding up the fabric and spinning it around until she found both armhole openings. She next realized there were thin ventilation slats in what she’d thought was a solid bulkhead. In the dim light, she saw Drom’s form, standing where she’d left him only seconds before. He caught her staring back at him and looked away, self-conscious.
Embarrassed also, Boomer hurried, throwing the garment over her body and letting it fall in place. She wrapped it tightly around her, then tied the belt snug. The truth was, it was similar to her Shadick, while Drom’s garment, it just so happened, looked ridiculously short, and dress-like, on his oversized frame. She grabbed up her tournament clothes and retrieved her SuitPac device. Stashing the clothes into her rucksack, she came back around to where Drom waited.
“I guess it’s not so bad,” Boomer said, hoping to avoid discussing what had just transpired. “You, on the other hand, still look ridiculous.”
Drom shrugged, not bothering to reply. Standing in the bow of the little ship, he gazed out toward open space. Boomer joined him there, but instead rested her backside against the railing behind her to take in the odd little craft. At first impression, the ancient, dilapidated-appearing trader vessel reminded her of something back on Earth. Where did I see it? She’d visited the place with her father years earlier. Was it Bangkok? Yes, that was it! This vessel reminded her of an old Bangkok canal barge. It even had sails. She looked up and took in the immense, dark orange, solar sails that spanned thousands of feet out; like a giant fan, they encircled the entirety of the craft. She noticed the craft’s dim running lights reflecting, shimmering, off the sails above. Someone back toward the stern was plucking strings on a small ukulele-type instrument. Why didn’t I notice it before? It was all breathtakingly beautiful—a different world. Is this what others consider a romantic atmosphere? she wondered. Several distant sparkles of light flashed and just as quickly dissipated. The open-decked vessel was completely encased in an invisible atmospheric field. She knew that what she’d observed above were simply several tiny meteors, igniting when they hit the energy field, but beautiful just the same. She glanced over to Drom, and breathed in his pleasant, musky scent. He looked unsettled—creases bunched together on his brow.
“Hey. Can I see that map again?” she asked. Her question pulled him back to the moment. “Um … sure.” He withdrew the rolled scroll from inside his Tammy Wrap, untied the leather thong, and spread the scroll wide before them.
“Explain what it is I’m looking at. It looks more like gibberish than a real map … to me.”
“This scroll was copied from a tablet which was made when ancient Dacci had little resemblance to today’s modern language. As you can see, it’s mostly symbols. But first …” He flipped the whole thing the opposite way around and laughed: “I had it upside down. See how the map is actually broken down into four quadrants?”
Boomer now saw them too. Wavy lines separated the four areas from each other. “And a won is hidden within each—”
He cut her off. “Remember, we already have one—the Goldwon. And Elder Pauli said there’s a good chance Lord Zintar Shakrim possesses one, too.”
“And we don’t know which one is hidden where, or on what planet?” Boomer asked, staring at the scroll.
Drom shook his head. “We’ll start here.” He tapped the top right quadrant. “That’s the symbol for the Dacci system constellation—called Pratta’s Mate.” As if anticipating her next question, he continued, “In that group of heavenly bodies, there’s only one planet with a friendly enough atmosphere. We’ve had to make some assumptions along the way; one was that the won effigies were each hidden where there was enough oxygen to breathe.”
“How old did you say those wons are?”
“Two thousand years … plus change,” he said.
“So how did a bunch of ancient Daccis, or whatever they called themselves back then, travel to distant constellations? I know as a fact that space travel only became commonplace here within the last few hundred years.”
“I have no idea.”
“This … expedition of ours doesn’t seem very scientific. A lot of guesswork.”
“Maybe, but guesswork that’s been going on for thousands of years. It’s the best we’ve got. The potential cost to my people … and yours, if we do nothing, is not an option.”
/> Boomer let it go and brought her attention back to the scroll. “What’s that symbol there?” she asked, pointing to a geometric shape that resembled a box, with two angled lines right above it.
“That’s one of the easier ones,” he said. “It represents a dwelling. See … those are its walls and that’s the roofline.”
“Oh … okay. I kinda see it. And this one here?”
Startled, both Boomer and Drom looked up as a slightly hunched, elderly Bassilion trader scurried past them. Similar to humanoids, Boomer was initially taken aback by their appearance, as they all had long, snake-like tails. What’s more, their tails were exposed, hanging out the back of their Tammy Wraps. That explained the small hole she’d noticed on the lower back of her own garment when first getting dressed. The Bassilion smiled warmly—his tail wagging back and forth as he moved past them—descending down a flight of stairs and out of sight. She briefly wondered what that would be like—having one’s emotional response so readily apparent to others by possessing an uncontrollable wagging tail.
“That’s the sign of death. Or, in this case, a life-threatening element,” Drom said, gesturing to the scroll.
“Like one of the trials or hazards back in the arena?”
“Yeah … exactly. This first one … I believe is where the Nordwon effigy is hidden. The course itself has to do with patience … or maybe it’s balance,” he said, nodding.
“Balance? That doesn’t seem all that perilous.”
“I don’t know … we’ll just have to see.”
He pursed his lips. “How about I redraw this, using symbols you’ll better understand? It shouldn’t take me long.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“It’s for the expedition. Don’t make too much out of it … it’s not that big of a deal. There are four other Tahli warriors on this expedition … they’ll make good use of it.”
I’ve irritated him again, Boomer thought, just when things were going so well.
“I’m tired. I’ll return to my cabin now and get started.” He rolled the scroll back into its long tube, tucking it under his Tammy Wrap, and left her standing at the bow of the barge without another word. She wanted to be mad at him, return his sudden hostility, but—seeing him walk away in the way-too-short garment that looked more like a dress—she smiled instead.
Boomer turned around and faced forward—looking out at the vast space beyond. “How long will we be traveling?” she wondered aloud. Part of her was fully content to stay right there; avoid what she knew would be coming. A high-up grouping of three bright stars looked similar to the Orion’s Belt system she was familiar with seeing from the Sol System. She then noticed that they, ever so slightly, were not stationary, and that anomaly had probably drawn her attention to noticing them in the first place.
Boomer glanced back over her shoulder to see if there was anyone around her, and there didn’t appear to be. She slid one hand inside the folds of her Tammy Wrap and touched the cool metallic device she’d clipped there. Depressing its two spring-tabs, she immediately felt the combat suit expand over her Tammy Wrap-clothed body. Through her helmet’s visor, she again found the same three moving lights above in space. Using her HUD, she increased magnification to its maximum parameters, then took in a quick breath. Definitely spacecrafts. They were also the same type of vessel that attacked Capital City’s arena.
“I see you up there, Shakrim. Soon … very soon, I’ll be coming for you.”
Chapter 21
Boomer suddenly awoke from what had been a restless sleep. Startled, she sat straight up and tried to make sense of where she was. She looked about the small, dimly lit, compartment, and remembered she was in her cabin, aboard a small trading vessel, on a mission to retrieve the three hidden wons.
There was angry shouting coming from the outside deck. Boomer’s eyes searched the dark recesses around her until she found her rucksack. Among other things, her enhancement shield was tucked inside it. More shouting emanated above her, followed by a loud crash. A hatchway, more like a flimsy doorway, had been kicked in. Obviously, someone was searching the ship. Beyond any doubt, she knew they were searching for both Drom and herself. She leapt out of bed, needing to look out the single porthole in her cabin—positioned nearly even with the deck itself. A military gunship, equally small to their own ship, was stationed alongside the barge—small, yet lethal looking. Several sets of legs hurried by her porthole window—once past her, she needed to crane her neck to follow them: three Sahhrain warriors—all wearing, characteristically, metallic breastplates and capes.
A whimper came from the opposite direction and Boomer turned her head, looking toward the stern. A Sahhrain warrior had a Bassilion trader down on the deck, his head held firmly under the boot of his captor. Oh my God! It was the same sweet Bassilion who’d shuffled by her and Drom last night on deck. Their eyes even met. No! She couldn’t allow something to happen to him.
Boomer spun toward her rucksack and was immediately encircled in two strong arms. A hand came over her mouth, holding her tight. She strained to see who had grabbed her and found Drom’s eyes glaring back at her. He moved his lips next to her ear: “Don’t … say … a … word,” he whispered, and released her mouth.
Boomer felt his grip on her relax and she shoved him away, furious. They stared at each other for several beats before she mouthed the words, “We can’t let this happen!”
He shook his head, looking equally upset, and whispered back, “The mission … it’s too important!”
She turned and looked out the porthole again. The Bassilion trader and the Sahhrain warrior were no longer in sight. She let out a breath and relaxed a little. Her eyes moved back to Drom and, showing some defiance, she stepped quietly over to her rucksack. Opening it, she withdrew her enhancement shield. As she attached it to her forearm, Drom glared back at her.
She barely whispered, “We don’t look like Bassilions … we don’t have fucking tails!”
His eyes shifted and then he nodded, withdrawing his own small shield from inside his Tammy Wrap, and securing it above his wrist.
Boomer listened to a cacophony of new sounds. The soldiers were moving below onto their deck now, searching the cabins one-by-one. Drom gestured toward the bed and took a position to the left of the hatchway. Understanding his meaning, she jumped back into the bed and brought the bed covers up around her, leaving only her head exposed.
“Try to look more vulnerable … like you’re scared or something,” he whispered. She glowered at him, then did as he asked. The truth was, she was scared.
Boomer’s eyes went wide as saucers when her hatch door was kicked open. She shrieked—only partially acting. A gigantic Sahhrain warrior filled the open hatchway, nearly obscuring the two warriors standing close behind him.
“Get out of bed, you Bassilion whore! Show me your transport papers.”
Boomer furtively glanced toward Drom, hidden behind what was left of the swung open hatch door.
One of the two Sahhrain in the back said, “Ah … she’s young and pretty. We’ll take her back with us … let her make the rounds in the barracks for a while.”
Boomer had heard stories about barracks whores—sexual slaves, passed from one assaulter to another for months—even years, if they survived that long.
“Not much in the way of tits … but she’ll be nice and firm … and the bitch will scream.” All three laughed in unison.
Boomer glanced to the left. Uh oh … she thought. The fury she now saw in Drom’s eyes was nothing short of epic. So much for keeping quiet to save the mission.
Drom, moving swiftly from his hiding place, brought up his enhancement shield. Violet distortion waves pounded the forward Sahhrain in the face—driving him abruptly up and backward—right into the other two Sahhrain. The three crashed backwards, with Drom following after them, continuing his relentless violet barrage until they all lay still upon the deck.
Boomer moved through the hatch to join Drom’s side. Toget
her, they looked down at the fallen warriors. She knew instantly they were dead. Their faces looked misshapen. Drom had shattered their facial bones and turned their brains to mush.
She glanced up at him. “Maybe a little excessive. You think?”
He ignored her comment. Then said, “Crap’s about to hit the fan.”
She rushed down the passageway toward the stairs. If they were going to take on more Sahhrain, best to be in a place where they had more freedom of movement.
By the time Boomer reached the top deck, she was wondering where the other four Tahli warriors were. That thought no sooner entered her mind than she sighted Gain and Tam, rounding the corner on the opposite side of the top deck. Both Blues were shorter than Drom, and close friends of his. In fact, they had grown up together, back in Loma City. The other two Blues she hadn’t seen yet. They’d gone below and into their respective cabins before she’d come on board and they hadn’t reappeared since.
“We’re here …”
Boomer turned to see two Blues females ascending the same stairwell she and Drom had just climbed and froze: The one in the lead looked remarkably like Carmotta.
“I’m her sister. You met me before, Boomer … a year ago,” she said, reading Boomer’s expression.
Boomer nodded, now remembering Carmotta’s pretty younger sibling. She’d actually met her several times. Rogna idolized Carmotta—had followed in her footsteps—even starting her Kahill Callan training when only a toddler. Whereas Carmotta was a natural warrior, Rogna was not. Technically, she knew the moves, the positions—but she was overly empathetic. That translated into hesitancy when she’d come up against an opponent—a characteristic that didn’t bode well for a Tahli warrior. Although they were probably the same age, Boomer considered her to be younger, for some reason.
“I’m very sorry about your sister,” she said, noting Rogna looked as if she was barely keeping her emotions in check. “But Rogna, what are you doing here?”
Boomer (Star Watch Book 3) Page 12
