by Patty Jansen
Options: ask him to land somewhere else, or make sure the fire fight was over by the time he arrived. But there were by now at least ten soldiers in the courtyard and more still streaming in. Dashu made short work of a couple more soldiers, but that group inside the building was at least twenty strong. The windows of the building were glass-stone and charge gun proof.
She'd ask Wairin to blow it up, but if there was an explosion, Rehan could definitely not land the shuttle here.
In rapid succession, she picked off all soldiers that showed up in her infrared sensor. But there was movement behind the windows.
The roar of aircraft engines was getting louder. Those soldiers in that building probably knew of the approaching craft and had been ordered to hide.
The Rhion came into view.
The door opened on the porch. At least twenty soldiers streamed into the courtyard. Dashu was firing, Wairin was firing. Braedon was hopefully smart enough to keep low.
The men had left the door open. Izramith aimed and fired into the room. The flash lit up part of the building, showing the corridor and stacked old furniture in skeleton vision.
Something chinked into the roof tiles next to her. Damn, they had a sniper somewhere. She scanned the surrounding roofs with her infrared scanner. Didn't see anything.
But this person would possibly shoot at the craft.
Damn. She needed to stop this guy. Several times, she swept the gun from side to side. A small light spot showed up over the highest point of the roof opposite her, but it could be a chimney outlet. The screen quality was utter rubbish.
The Rhion approached, bright lights shining down and messing with her infrared setting. Damn it. That guy up there was still shooting.
"Let me deal with this." Daya had come out of his hiding place. He was going to shoot this guy with a fucking crossbow?
But the moment he pressed the release and the bolt shot free with a metallic zhiiing, the air turned cold. Charge gun discharges were invisible until they hit something. The bolt crackled with blue light as it streaked through the air. As it hit the roof opposite. It was a crap shot, hitting much lower than where the guy was sitting. Damn, if only Braedon—
Blue light crackled over the roof.
A flash.
An entire section of roof caved in.
Izramith turned to Daya. "What the hell is that thing?"
"Fighting with their own weapons, slightly modified." His face showed amusement. Did this have something to do with that thing called avya that he'd used in the valley behind the airport at Hedron?
Men shouted and ran into the courtyard, into Braedon and Dashu's fire. The wall of the collapsing building crashed outwards, sending an avalanche of bricks into the courtyard.
Izramith shot at anyone she could see, but now she had given away her position, she came under fire.
Wind from the landing craft tore at her hair. Its lights were so bright that she couldn't see anything else.
Time to get out of this spot. Izramith let go. She slid down the roof, over the gutter, into the air, shooting at the other side of the courtyard as she fell. Something whizzed past her and grazed her side.
She landed hard on the courtyard's pavement. Ouch, her side hurt.
A blinding glow from the shuttle's downlights turned everything in the courtyard white. She sensed Daya coming down next to her. There were at least ten people waiting in the alcove where she had entered the building. Her vision was too blurry to tell her who they were.
Clouds of dust blew into her face. The ramp was down.
Oh shit, her side.
People were now running across the courtyard to the craft, which hovered over the ground.
"Izramith." A figure ran towards her.
Braedon.
She struggled to get to her feet. Pain shot through her side. "I think… I've been hit."
He looped an arm under her shoulders. They were barely at the bottom of the ramp when soldiers burst out of a couple of doors.
"Duck! Stand back!" Daya was already at the entrance of the craft with his crossbow. He coolly fired bolts into the buildings. The spot glowed blue and then the building would collapse. No ordinary crossbow indeed.
Inside the craft. Braedon helped Izramith into a seat. There were people around her, but she didn't register faces. She ran her hand over her side. It came away wet with blood. Something had managed to get in between the two sections of her armour.
"Retract the ramp!" Braedon yelled.
"Hold on everyone." That was Rehan's voice.
The floor lurched. The pressure increased. Black spots encroached on Izramith's vision.
Izramith must have fainted, because the next thing she knew, her armour was off and she lay uncomfortably stretched out over a couple of adjacent seats. Braedon sat next to her, sticking a bandage to her side.
"That was a nasty hit." He was packing away his supplies. "I fixed it up temporarily, but you'll have get it properly treated when we get home."
"Did… did everyone make it in?" She tried to lift her head. There were many people in the seats around her. "Are we still in Mirani airspace?"
"We are, but Rehan managed to apply for protected status while we were gone. There are a couple of Mirani craft escorting us, but they shouldn't do anything."
"Should is a word to never associate with war."
He smiled, and suddenly looked very tired. "At least you've lost none of your proverbs."
Chapter 31
A good number of guards were waiting for them when the craft arrived in Barresh. They escorted the group of rescued prisoners to the hospital, where the council had set up a light and airy room for them. A lot of people were already there, including medical carers and officials to record their stories. Anmi was there, too, with all four of her boys.
A couple of nervous keihu and Pengali relatives waited and family reunions came with tears and shouts of joy from the relatives, and bewilderment from the captives.
A girl hugged her mother, but looked over her shoulder at another keihu girl, a friend amongst the captives, who held her hand out.
"They should not be separated," Braedon said to Daya.
"They won't be. They can all stay together in our accommodation. We'll sort out later where everyone should go."
A council worker asked Izramith to come to a small room.
He explained. "We're having gamra inspectors arriving in the next few days. They will make detailed investigations and interview all the victims, but I understand you will be gone by that time, and we hope your statement will satisfy them so you won't need to be recalled. I understand you were the first person in that upstairs room?"
She recounted the events to the best of her memory, feeling slightly ill.
Time was passing too quickly. Already she had come almost to the end of her contract with still no clue on what she would do next.
When she was finished, she met Wairin in the corridor, and he went into the room to record his statement next.
In the big room, council workers had brought a meal and tea for all. A young man offered Izramith some, but just the look of food made her feel sick, so she leaned against the wall close to the room's entrance, watching the prisoners eat and drink. Reyar sat talking to a couple of other Hedron zhadya-born, all of them gaunt and unhealthy-looking. She would ask him if he could do anything for her nephew, but with the whole Aghyrian group here, that was no longer necessary. Someone would look after him, Anmi had said.
She felt reluctant to approach Reyar. Coming to him only when she needed something would probably justify his hostile position towards Hedron. Things were not all happy and careless, especially with the Hedron group. But just seeing the keihu mothers reunited with their daughters made her certain that she had done the right thing.
Miran had apparently lodged an angry complaint against the violation of its borders, but the gamra outrage over the plight of the prisoners was greater.
What the group had been doing in Miran?
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They'd been subject of experiments, the more vocal prisoners said. They showed scars from having devices inserted in their arms. To attempt to harvest or harness the energy their bodies built up. Except in most of them, the ability was nowhere near as strong as in Daya and experiments didn't seem to be leading anywhere, after which the Mirani started breeding experiments.
Izramith didn't know what made her more angry: the injuries or
"How are you holding up?" Braedon had come to stand next to her.
She shrugged. "All right, I guess. Some of these people look like walking skeletons."
"Don't forget to look after yourself."
"I'm all right."
"You will have that wound properly cleaned and glued."
She turned to him at the insistent tone of his voice.
"I did a temporary job. I'm not even properly qualified to do that work. It's a nasty cut."
"Sure."
"All right then. Am I going to have to drag you to this medico?" He glanced at the door where a Pengali woman stood. She wore a dark blue hospital gown that rippled at the back where her tail pushed up the fabric.
Izramith went with her to a small room further down the hallway. There was a bed in the middle of the room. Shelves packed with medical supplies crammed all the room's walls. Well, Braedon certainly had done his job for this hospital.
The woman gestured for her to undress and lie down.
The place smelled like sickness and death. She was reminded of the hospital at Hedron and how she should go and get Shada to bring him here.
The woman told her to undress and lie down on the bed.
She proceeded to take off the bandage that Braedon had put on by yanking hard at the tape. Ouch. That was really quite uncomfortable.
"Hmmm. Quite nasty." The medico woman took a bottle with clear fluid from a shelf. She splashed some on a towel. "Have to clean this."
She dabbed at the edge of the wound. Pain shot through Izramith's side so stabling that she almost cried out. She tried to lift her head. For fuck's sake, woman, what are you doing there? Sweat broke out on her face. Blackness encroached on the edges of her vision.
Damn.
Why had she gone so soft? She never used to be like this. She had even watched when the guards cut the cross-hatched pattern into her upper arms; she had welcomed the pain. And now she was sweating, and feeling sick.
Fortunately, the gluing of the wound was relatively painless and quick. The medico stuck a large bandage over the top. "Must rest and keep clean."
Izramith nodded. Like that was ever going to happen. Then she thought of something else. "Please, can you give me something to balance my adaptation?"
The woman gave her a sideways look while washing her hands. "I thought you arrive many days ago."
"I did, but it's still upsetting me."
"Hmmm." The tail curled up. She dried her hands. "Need to have tests."
She disappeared, and a keihu nurse arrived to take samples of all kinds of fluids.
"I only wanted some extra medication," Izramith protested, but the man wouldn't comment. He probably didn't speak Coldi.
He left, and she waited while seated on the bed in the room, frustrated. There was a lot of work still to do, and these gamra officials to speak to and she only wanted some damn pills, not tests. There was nothing else wrong with her.
The Pengali medico returned. "Have your tests."
Izramith sprang to her feet. "Great. Can I have my medicine now? I'm very busy—"
"Sit."
Izramith sat. There was a serious tone to the woman's voice that chilled her. "I am all right, aren't I? I mean—I've only been feeling bad with this adaptation since I came here. The first night was really bad, but it never went away—"
"There is no medicine you can take for symptoms."
Wait. "But everyone says—"
"Not adaptation is problem."
"Isn't it?" Something in the water or the food?
"You are pregnant."
What? "That's impossible." Fucking impossible. She spread her hands. "That's ridiculous. I never—"
The only man she'd been with was Braedon, and she'd flushed and not held back, because Mirani Endri didn't breed with any other races and neither did Coldi and if they bred with each other, certainly someone would have discovered that before now?
"Girls say ridiculous a lot of times, but if you sleep with man, you get pregnant. Simple. You not sleep with man, then, well, is a different matter. Because you need head looked at."
"No, no." Izramith held up her hands. "That's not necessary."
* * *
Izramith went back to the guesthouse in a daze.
Fucking pregnant.
Yet, she should have known. Hot flushes and sweats could be caused by anything, but the failure of her flush to fire when enough time had passed between the previous flush and when she wanted to happen should have been a big flashing sign. Allowing a flush to happen was much easier than stopping it.
Even if she hadn't been with the guards and had slept with a man before leaving for Barresh, there was only one option: this child was Braedon's.
And that was impossible, right?
She sat on the bed and searched all the medical records. Soon enough, she came up with Anara Teren, Anmi's institute, where they did genetics research.
In the section about Aghyrian markers and cross-species breeding, she came across an article that stated, While rumours of Coldi companion girls getting pregnant with Mirani Endri men are rife, there are only two documented and proven cases: Amandra Bisumar twice fell pregnant with Ydana's child, and twice miscarried, once early and once mid-term.
There were pictures, too, of a tiny foetus in the palm of someone's hand, with all the little fingers and toes already formed.
Shit.
So, she'd likely be headed for a miscarriage, and would have to hide that from the guards. Or resign, admit that she was pregnant and then what? Lose the child anyway and be lonely?
Because if Braedon had been serious about her, she'd given him plenty of opportunity to tell her so.
Chapter 32
A warm breeze ruffled Izramith's hair. The light of both suns was low and she had to squint into it to see across Barresh's main square and down Market Street where thousands of people lined up, waiting for the parade.
There were locals in their family colours, guest workers in their native costume, or just any kind of costume. Long robes, colourful frills, gold and silver embroidery, brightly-coloured veils, patterned skirts.
Izramith had not yet seen the wedding party, but they could not possibly outdo the spectator crowd in brilliance.
Already, the sound of the drums echoed over the markets. Behind her, the large guesthouse was a riot of colour, with people leaning out the windows cheering. Wairin was up there somewhere, and Eris sat in a security station opposite her, facing a bank of screens. Their eyes met and he nodded.
Going well.
Yes, it was going well. Dotted throughout the crowd were Barresh council guards in black, looking alert, talking to each other on their comms, continuously scanning the spectators. They were no longer expecting much trouble, since the gamra team had descended on Barresh and was interviewing the freed prisoners and they provided a shield against hostile action. Barresh was, people joked, an expert at using such political shields. Miran could be heard gnashing its teeth across the border. Its council had given the matter the silent wall treatment. There had been no official statement, no comment, no acknowledgement of the incident.
Someone shouted at the first level window of the guesthouse. The Mirani Nikala workers up there cheered.
The party was coming across the markets.
First came the drummers, a combination of Mirani Nikala and local young people, the men with oiled upper bodies glistening in the light. Izramith spotted Jocassa amongst them, his face beaming.
Then the flower bearers, younger girls and boys dressed in white with baskets
and headdresses made from flowers. They scattered small bunches of flowers into the crowd. A young woman next to Izramith caught one and she and her friend or sister went into squeals of excitement.
Then came the happy couple, in traditional Mirani wedding dress: matching long, dark red robes, embroidered with glittering beads in the same colour. Mikandra's hair was spiked up with a couple of longer strands of beads dangling down both sides of her ears. Her slender neck displayed the green tattoo of a string of flowers and leaves. Rehan's hair hung loose over his back, a curtain of silver.
Rehan held Mikandra's right hand with his right hand. The silver wedding arm bands glittered on their wrists, with the chain linking them up still attached.
Whatever else Izramith thought about Rehan and his pompous assumption of power and privilege, they both looked amazing. And the expedition to Miran had initiated a shattering of many of her assumptions. It took a special kind of bravery to stand up to the people you had grown up with and fire a gun at them, because you believed deeply that they were doing bad things. It took bravery to extract your financial interests from the culture that supported you. She had seen Braedon suffer for that decision, but sure the entire business would have suffered.
So, Izramith was no longer sure what to think. Society needed champions, and the Andrahar family had become such champions.
People in the street clapped and cheered
Rehan called out and the parade came to a halt. The drummers formed a wide circle on the corner where Market Street joined the square and the flower bearers lined up inside the circle.
Izramith eyed Eris across the street. It was not in the script that they would stop here. In fact, they weren't scheduled to stop anywhere until they arrived back at the markets, where cooks were setting up a big feast.
Eris shrugged, gesturing with his hands I don't know.
Izramith turned around to the guesthouse's façade. They'd finally been able to do the audit and all was deemed safe, but she didn't want to run unnecessary risks. She tried to find Dashu, who was meant to be walking with the group, but who had become lost in the bunch of the participants in the parade who followed the couple: the brightly-dressed children, the keihu men dressed as marsh eels—they made Izramith shudder—the flag-wavers, musicians, a couple of Pengali on stilts.
