Prosperine: The Adventures of the Space Heroine Hickory Lace: Books 1, 2 & 3 (The Prosperine Trilogy)

by PJ McDermott

  Hickory’s SIM implant responded by creating a magnetic field. It surrounded and penetrated her skull. Synapses were severed at that moment and new networks created.

  Hickory felt the pain abruptly metamorphose into a fierce malleable force.

  Like a moth inside a cocoon, it battered and struggled to grow, to be free. And the moth inside her absorbed all the desolation she’d ever experienced from her mother’s death, Gareth’s death, her father’s rejection, her failed loves, the manipulation of Prefect Cortherien, and drowned them all in layers of reassurance and love from the Teacher, from Jess and Gareth. And it was enough. The moth emerged fully formed, magnificent in its power, able to compel and persuade and encourage and coax so that her will would be done. “Go away!” she roared.

  The nearest flying reptiles stopped in mid-air, those swarming above the yarrak fluttered for a few seconds as though disoriented, and then all flew back in the direction from which they had come. Hickory’s mind was afire. Her focus remained on the creatures, aware of her control over them. Come here. She projected her thoughts at the departing cloud and saw them change direction towards her. Settle. The reptiles landed on the ground in front of her. She knew their minds, thoughts of hunger and the joy of flight, and for a second she was one with them.

  We are Charakai.

  They were silent now, watching her, awaiting her next command. Home. As one, the flock rose and headed off into the distance, shrieking as they went.

  Hickory fell to the ground. Her mouth tasted the sourness of bile and her head buzzed with residual images and sounds both real and imagined. She couldn’t comprehend what had just happened, but she knew she had changed and it frightened her. She needed the medical supplies that had disappeared with the yarrak. Titus, she thought, more in despair than expectation, and then she collapsed and fell into a deep sleep.

  Hickory, help me!

  The nuzzling of the beast’s proboscis roused her from the bizarre dream. She’d been lost in a fog so thick she’s been able to part it with her hands, but the faster she shoveled it aside, the denser the fog seemed to become. A distant voice called to her, and she recognized it as Gareth’s. She’d tried desperately to find him, but as soon as she thought she was getting nearer, the voice would cry out from another direction.

  Titus’s tongue rasped at her cheek and brought her to the surface. It was pitch black. How long have I been asleep? Images of the Charakai surfaced in her mind, and she knew these were not memories, but a remote connection she still had with the reptiles. Hickory shivered, then struggled to her feet. She found the carry bags and rummaged through them for the analgesic tablets, a clean cloth, and the jar of antiseptic ointment. She dabbed at the cut on her head and applied the cream, then swallowed three tablets with some of her remaining water. Before she fell asleep, she brought to mind the mantra she learned as a child. I am calm and peaceful like the boundless ocean. I am open-hearted and free as the wind.

  When she awoke in the morning, the yarrak was grazing on the leaves of the nearby trees. She stretched her arms and legs and rotated her head slowly checking for residual pain. The wound on her skull still throbbed, but her head was clear. She lit a fire to brew some coffee and considered the events of the previous evening. She’d never before experienced an outpouring of psychic suggestion like that, not even before she’d learned how to moderate the intensity of her empathic responses as a sixteen-year-old. It had happened without her thinking about it, in a moment of sheer terror. It was strange the pterosaurs had responded like they did, though. They weren’t frightened by her outburst; rather they’d behaved more like soldiers obeying the commands of their officer.

  And the way they had gathered around her, silent and waiting was uncanny. And Titus? Had he responded to her call too? She didn’t think so. His brain was more developed than the others and would be less susceptible. More likely he had merely come back to her for the company once the danger had passed. Come, she tested her theory, but the yarrak stayed where he was. Titus, she tried again. The brute cast an intelligent eye at her but otherwise remained unmoved.

  She wished Jess were here, or Gareth. Poor Gareth, he would have had the answers. He’d always had the answer to every problem. She smiled at the memory, then mounted Titus and set off.

  Hickory rode most of that day and the next, passing through pasture after pasture of goldengrass and then crossed the Ctarak River at a point where she felt she wouldn’t be swept away by its wild currents. Following the Teacher’s directions, she turned northwest and that night slept soundly by the banks of the Trasel.

  By noon the next day she had crossed over the river and was nearing a range of distant hills when she saw a twinkle of light reflecting from the crest of a rocky outcrop. Quickly, she dismounted and lay down, pulling the spyglass from her pocket. It was too distant to make out anything. There it was again! Was that a signal, or light reflecting off an object, or naturally from the rock surface? She couldn’t tell from this distance, but better to be cautious. She altered her course so that she would come to the ridge with the sun behind her.

  Leaving Titus at the bottom of the rise, Hickory continued on foot. She worked her way around the side of the hill and climbed towards the peak. She heard them before she saw them—two Avanauri chattering in an unknown dialect. Cautiously, she leaned over a ledge and looked down. The nauris were sitting in a depression in the rocks, ten yards below her. They were absorbed in a game that involved throwing some stones in the air and catching them on the way down. Every now and then, their heads bobbed up to survey the plains in front of them. Hickory’s pulse raced when she saw that one was carrying a laser-guided projectile rifle with a polished brass stock. The reflection from the metal was what had alerted her.

  How had the Pharlaxians acquired the firearm? It was a blow to think that either the Bikashi or the Black Suns were supplying weapons such as this. Avanauri scientists had been experimenting with explosives and pyroclastic liquids, but Hickory knew that projectile weaponry was at least a generation away.

  The rifle being held by the Pharlaxian was obsolete but far superior to the weapons in use by the Ezekan army, who traditionally wore either long swords or knives in their waistband and carried a longbow on their back. A small group with guns would make short work of a more numerous enemy.

  Hickory crept away from the two guards and sat with her back against the bluff. Sequana’s camp must be close by. She crawled on her belly to the top and stifled a gasp. A great tent city had been erected in the crater of the extinct volcano below. This was what she had been sent to find. She scanned the entire area slowly and spied a troop of Ezekani soldiers marching into a cave almost directly beneath her. Some of the city defenders had defected. She estimating the numbers of naurs, yarraks, and types of weaponry in the caldera as the admiral had asked, then attempted to contact Jess. Her failure to answer worried her, but if she and Mack were inside the cave, the rock would prevent any signal from getting through.

  The sun was low on the horizon. Dusk would be here soon so she decided to wait and hope she would be able to slip past unnoticed.

  A sudden commotion broke out amongst the troops below. Naurs were shouting and pointing towards the opposite hillside, where a lone figure scrambled up the rocks.

  “Kar-sѐr-Sephiryth! Quickly! After him—don’t let him get away,” yelled an officer. Many of the soldiers rushed to obey, and those who remained were intent on the chase, shouting instructions to their comrades.

  Hickory slid down the bank of scree to the entrance of the cave and slipped inside. The Teacher had been as good as his word, she thought. She hoped he’d manage to get away.

  She leaned her back against the wall and crept along the corridor, her senses tuned to any sound or movement that might herald discovery. A hundred meters from the entrance she came to an opening on her left. She glanced round the corner. It was an empty antechamber. She stepped inside and stopped, startled, as she came face to face with a Bikashi soldier.
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br />   He had come out of a toilet cubicle and was just as surprised to see her but slower to respond. Hickory brought her arm up and unleashed a karate blow to his neck. The soldier recovered, partly deflected the chop with one arm and sent a right fist into Hickory’s stomach. She doubled over in pain and staggered backward, gasping for air. The Bikashi followed up his advantage. He lunged and threw his powerful arms around her, applying a bear hug. She could feel her spine being forced unnaturally backward. The soldier was intent on crushing her, and she could smell the sourness of his breath as he grunted with the effort. The pressure on her lungs intensified. She couldn’t breathe.

  Hickory felt herself losing consciousness. She jammed her forearms under his and reached for his face. She searched with her fingers for the eyeholes in his mask and squeezed. Her opponent shrieked and let her go. Hickory spun to face her enemy, then drew back her hand and struck, stiff-armed, at his chin. The Bikashi’s head jolted, his eyes closed, and he slumped to the ground.

  Sucking in deep breaths, she leaned over, with hands on her knees, and retched. Close, very close. I’m lucky this one was alone. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, took a last deep breath and glanced around. A dirty, half-filled cup rested on a wooden table that had half a dozen chairs scattered around. She stooped over the Bikashi and checked for a pulse. Steady. Should be awake in thirty minutes or so. Hickory removed his helmet and studied her adversary. Ugly bastard. No wonder he wears a mask. Good fighter, though. She dragged the soldier over to a corner, removed his over-garment, then took some rope from her backpack and bound his hands and feet. For good measure, she gagged his mouth with his own shirt.

  Those she passed moved out of her way as she walked purposefully down the tunnel wearing the Bikashi helmet and cloak. She emerged on an upper-level balcony that overlooked a large underground chamber. It was like an Aladdin’s cave, she thought—the rock walls were crusted with multi-colored glass that sparkled in the light of hundreds of flaming torches.

  A stir went through the hall, and aliens crowded the balcony, leaning over to see. A column of troops in full battle armor came to a halt and gave a two-handed salute to the naur seated on the raised dais. Hickory drew an involuntary breath as she recognized Sequana. He wore a lustrous golden cloak and carried a ceremonial staff that glittered in the light. His features were benign as he studied the soldiers in front of him. Cheers erupted when he rose from his seat and raised the staff above his head, acknowledging his supporters around the chamber.

  When the Pharlaxian leader turned his face upwards, Hickory instinctively drew back and bumped into a nauri. Bowing low, she murmured an apology and withdrew quickly.

  As she moved further away from the group, she was acutely aware that she was very tall for a Bikashi warrior. Then she realized that the Bikashi troops were standing together in one group, apparently to avoid making physical contact with their Avanauri counterparts. Her camouflage now worked against her. She was no longer invisible. She needed to find Jess and Mack fast and get out of here. Where would they be? Were they prisoners or guests, as Kar-sѐr-Sephiryth had said? She tried her SIM again, more in hope than with any expectation of success. There was only silence.

  Hickory glanced over her shoulder and saw that the nauri she had bumped into was tugging at the arm of a guard and pointing in her direction. She turned on her heels and kept moving despite the guard’s cry of “Halt!” Not knowing where it might lead, she swung into the nearest passageway and broke into a run.

  The bola made a loud whistling sound as the weights at each end of the cord spun through the air and wrapped itself around her legs. She gasped as her momentum carried her forward and she crashed onto the ground, hitting her head against a rock.

  When she woke up, she pushed herself to her knees, but quickly subsided, groaning. Her head, not yet recovered from the Charakai attack, pounded, and she felt sick and disoriented. Where am I? The memory of her capture returned with a rush, and she clutched at her talisman, hoping the transmitter wasn’t damaged. Lucky I had protection on my head, she thought, realizing that both her helmet and cloak had been taken. A familiar scent caused her to lift her head.

  “Ah, the Earth woman—delivered into our hands by Balor, the just.” Sequana laughed mockingly at her through the bars. “This is indeed most fortuitous. Guards! Make sure her cell is secure. I don’t want her leaving prematurely like our previous guests. If she escapes, not only will I have your heads on pikes, but those of your wives and children too.”

  Alone

  Morning and night, they dragged her in front of the Pharlaxian leaders. Always, they asked the same questions. “Who are you working for? Why are you here?” And every day that Hickory remained silent, they made her suffer. Sequana’s lieutenants queried why she was allowed to live. He prodded the charts which outlined Ezekan’s defenses and armament displacement and said, “This is our goal. Conquer the city and all Avanaux will bow to us. We must not allow ourselves to be distracted from this task. Should we kill the Earth-girl? If we do, and her masters discover this, there will be reprisals. We do not know their strength, but I surmise it to be substantial—perhaps enough to delay us, perhaps enough to stop us altogether. No, I will not provide them with an excuse to interfere. We shall keep this one alive. There is no threat to us while she remains captive.”

  That did not deter them from trying to extract what information they could, short of killing her. Once a day, they provided Hickory with a bowl of porridge, a piece of cornbread and a pint of water. If she was lucky, she would find a small slab of honeycomb or a few nuts hidden in her porridge, and Hickory wondered which of her guards was prepared to risk Sequana’s wrath to do her this small kindness.

  Each evening, after stubbornly refusing to answer the Pharlaxian’s questions, she was bundled off to the dark-eyed torturer, Tѐkan sѐra Sorbanne, a nauri who had a fiendish obsession with terror, and who took a mad pride in her professional skills.

  “Torture is an art form,” she said on their first meeting while walking slowly around Hickory. She drew the tails of her whip across the palm of her hand. “Excruciating pain can be inflicted immediately, of course, if time is short, but there have been instances where the prisoner has died before the knowledge can be extracted.”

  She smiled and caressed Hickory’s shoulder with the lash. “Much better, if time permits, that information is wheedled out one piece at a time, using the instrument perfectly matched to the subject’s persona.” She came up behind Hickory and whispered in her ear. “Sometimes, the anticipation alone can cause a prisoner to tell something of what they know, but I always discover more. This is one of my favorite pieces,” she said, trailing her fingers along a row of implements laid out neatly on a bench, and picking up a metal face mask. The mask was eyeless with a gauze-covered grill for the mouth and leather straps that fastened behind the head. A slow evil smile spread over the torturer’s features, and she forced the mask against Hickory’s face.

  Hickory struggled, but the two guards held her firm. It was black as pitch inside the mask. Hickory’s breath came quickly, hot against her face.

  Tѐkan said, “Yes, I think this is for you. It is a little slower, but it has never failed me.” She removed the mask and laid it to one side then walked to a cage sitting on the bench. She put her hand inside and gently lifted out a tiny creature. “This is my pet, Sasha. Isn’t she pretty?” She stroked the animal’s head and held it close for Hickory to see.

  Hickory’s mind filled with dread. The creature was small, about the size of a field mouse, but it had teeth and claws like needles. It rubbed its ear against Tѐkan’s finger affectionately.

  “Sasha is pregnant. This will be her seventh litter. She will give birth sometime in the next ten days.” She blew gently on the creature then dropped it into the upturned mask and rammed it against Hickory’s face.

  Desperately, Hickory held back the scream that would mean her opening her mouth, and she squeezed her eyes and lips together tightly. Her temple
pounded with her racing pulse, and her breath snorted in quick bursts through her nose. The small creature scuttled between the mask and her face, scampering over her eyes, poking its snout into Hickory’s nose and into an ear, mewling and seeking a way to escape.

  Tѐkan held the mask in place for a few seconds, before taking it away and putting the frightened animal back in its cage.

  “Sasha’s kind are compelled to give birth in the light of day. She will do anything, go to whatever lengths are necessary to make sure this takes place. She cannot eat her way through the mask, but she will burrow her way through your cheeks or neck to escape when her time is near.” She smiled at Hickory. “Sasha is a caring mother.”

  Back in her cell, Hickory couldn’t free her mind from the smile or the glint of madness in Tѐkan’s black eyes. When the horror subsided enough to let her nod off into a nightmare-filled sleep, the guards woke her every hour until it was time to see Sequana again.

  Each day, the mask was strapped to her face, only for a few minutes. Each day, the creature became more agitated, and by the end of the first week, Hickory’s face was bloodied by tiny slashes and punctures.

  By the middle of the second week, her face had become infected, and one eye was now crusted with pus and closed. Tѐkan increased her agony by breaking a finger or removing a fingernail—one per day. When they took her back to her cell, the agony and anticipation of what would soon happen caused Hickory to hallucinate, and she imagined Sasha and her family in the cell, staring at her.

  In her demented state, she tried to convince the creatures to leave as she had with the Charakai, but they refused to go. Starved, mentally and physically exhausted, she realized she could hold out no longer. Tomorrow or the next day the animal would start her birthing sequence and in her panic to reach the light, she would rip through a cheek or an eye socket and gnaw her way to freedom.