“My time is done but so is yours,” Pavmiraia said to Tlazomiccuhtli, her voice mocking. “I’ve waited these many centuries for you to step into the world, show yourself to me, not merely work through avatars and servants. I hoped the arrival of this girl, this last of my true believers, in your stronghold would be the tipping point.”
“You knew I was going to end up here?” Shalira was dismayed, angry.
Pavmiraia shrugged. “There were multiple possibilities for your fate, paths to be taken. The coming of the offworlders tipped the odds in my favor and yours. You were the last hope I had. If you’d failed, or chosen otherwise, the world of humans on this planet would have suffered a dire fate and I would not have been able to intervene.”
As the purple wall continued to crack and disappear into nothingness, Shalira felt a strong hand on her shoulder. Face drawn and grim, racked with pain, Mike stood on her other side, with Johnny flanking him. “I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t know how to help,” he said in her ear, “but we’re guarding your six.”
Tlazomiccuhtli grabbed one of his depleted serpents, which regenerated as he held it, becoming a massive spear in his hand, the tip a glowing ruby, its pointed end gleaming like the point of a dagger. “Much as I admire your foolish courage, outworld warrior, I’ll start by taking your heart because I need it more than you do.” He took aim.
As he hurled the uncanny weapon at Mike through the remnants of the scepter-generated purple shield, the goddess Pavmiraia stepped aside.
Furious, Shalira threw herself in front of her beloved, scepter raised above her head. Exerting all her willpower, the princess channeled the dregs of power she felt remaining in the gemstone, demanding that the cherindors help her.
Purple haze drifted from the surface of the gemstone, swirling around her, Mike and Johnny, coating them in reflected, glistening amethyst light, as if she were becoming a gemstone herself. Having difficulty keeping her eyes open against the glare, she hoped this was leading to something useful. In the next second growling laughter rang through her head and a wave of freezing cold shot through her like knives, gone between one breath and the next. The spear’s flight was halted in midair and it fell harmlessly to the rocky ground, encased in glittering purple crystals that shattered, breaking Tlazomiccuhtli’s weapon.
Pavmiraia strolled forward, a beautiful young woman, with lustrous black hair streaming down her back all the way to the ground. Her dress was shades of green, accented with precious gems and intricate designs in gold thread. She glanced back at Shalira and nodded and the princess was awestruck at how lovely and serene the face of the goddess was, even at this extreme moment. “No need for all this violence, Tlazomiccuhtli, my beloved. Take comfort in my arms as you used to do before the chaos was dispelled and the world of humans was created. Time enough to decide your next move after we’ve renewed our affair.” Growing taller with each step, she held out her arms as she walked steadily toward the other god.
Tlazomiccuhtli’s eyes narrowed and he retreated a step. Pavmiraia embraced the god and pulled his hideous head down for a kiss. As his multiple arms wrapped around her, there was an explosion, red, purple and green flares blending together, flying in a visible circle outward from the embracing lovers.
Mike yanked Shalira out of the path of the light, pulling her behind a stalagmite. Johnny came right behind them.
Folded in Mike’s arms, Johnny trying to shield both of them, Shalira heard the three note song of the myrdima. She fought free of the men and stepped away from the stalagmite just in time to see thousands of the creatures fly from the spot where Tlazomiccuhtli and Pavmiraia had been standing. Of the two gods there was no sign. The stone idol at the rear of the cave was cracked into three pieces, crumbling into dust as she watched. The myrdima poured through the cavern, flashing past her, exiting in a solid wave of colors and shooting into the sky. The song was glorious, triumphant, deafening in the enclosed space.
One small green myrdima fluttered behind the masses of its fellows, landing on Shalira’s shoulder for a moment. Its feathery antennae brushed her cheek and she heard the goddess’s voice for the final time.
“Your dreams have been granted, my daughter, as have mine. I’ve rid Mahjundar of the ancient evil, with your help, and now I too am free.” The crystalline three note song trilled as the creature lifted into the air and shot after the flock, wings blurring with the effort.
“Are you okay?” A visibly shaken Johnny was trying to get her to stand and Shalira realized she must have blacked out for a moment or two. “I don’t know what magic you worked just then, but you sure saved our butts.”
She stood and took two swift steps to where Mike had fallen, kneeling to check that he’d come through the event unscathed, even if he’d relapsed into an unconscious state.
“The scepter. Where is it?” Hand to her aching head, Shalira looked around for the stone and staff.
“I see it.” Johnny picked it up for her before she could stop him or utter a warning. The great stone was cracked in half, clouded. The golden cherindors were melted, unrecognizable lumps of blackened metal. Speculating if the power had been depleted forever, if she’d ever be brave enough to try channeling the cherindor again, Shalira accepted the staff, tucking it in her belt.
“All dead out there,” Everett reported, striding through the boulders. “I don’t know what the hell that was but why didn’t we pull that trick sooner?”
“I didn’t know it was possible,” Shalira said, glaring at Everett. “Don’t you think I would have used it to save Saium’s life, if I could have?”
Off in the distance, outside the cave, she heard the faint call of the shell horns. Exchanging glances with Johnny, heart sinking, she said, “And I can’t repeat the miracle.”
“You won’t have to—I hear the drone,” the sergeant said a moment later.
She could hear the noise herself now, a metallic whine, coming closer, growing to a deafening scream. “Thank the gods.”
“Can you walk?” Johnny shouted in her ear.
“Yes, I’m fine. Please, take care of Mike.”
The two soldiers lifted the unconscious major carefully, trying not to further jostle his injuries, and Shalira followed them from the shelter of the boulders as a trim silver and black ship settled onto the sandy soil, blocking the stream. Water diverted around the drone, forcing them to slosh through the redirected stream.
“How do we get inside?” she asked, glancing downriver as the horns sounded again.
Adjusting his hold on Mike, Johnny set his fingers in a shallow depression on the drone’s hull she hadn’t noticed. A virtual keypad revealed itself and he tapped something in. “Special Forces code,” he said.
Silently a door slid open, and a short ramp extended to the ground. Needing no invitation, adrenaline high, Shalira scrambled into the drone, not knowing what to expect but desperate to be somewhere the Nathlemeru couldn’t reach her ever again. The drone’s plain interior was equipped with a set of thinly padded seats along both sides. Gleaming, complicated equipment occupied the stern, and this was where the soldiers carried Mike, placing him gently on a table bolted to the deck. Johnny immediately went to work, pulling medical supplies from drawers and hooking Mike to strange devices. “Stay in your seat till we’re safely airborne,” he called over his shoulder to Shalira.
Everett sprinted back past her and did something she couldn’t see, causing the door to close. Sinking into the nearest uncomfortable seat, she realized she’d been holding her breath. The Special Forces soldier jogged forward, taking one of the empty chairs in the nose. Through the vidscreens above Everett’s head and along the sides, she could tell the drone was already rising along the canyon wall without anyone taking any further action. As they cleared the top and the drone took a steep tangent into the sky, Everett raised his fists, threw back his head and yelled in triumph, a long whoop overriding even the sound of the engines.
Rising, keeping her balance with difficulty, S
halira joined Johnny in the back. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Keep me company,” he said. “The drone got here in the nick of time all right. Mike’s in a bad way, especially with the skirmish with your gods back in the cave, but I can keep him ticking till we reach the roboship.”
“Hey, some good news for a change,” Everett said from his position in the bow. “The Andy’s going to be on station by the time we get there. They’re ordering us to board directly.”
Keeping his eyes on the readouts, Johnny said to Shalira, “You don’t need to worry, I’ll stay close. No one is going to send Mike’s fiancée back to the surface, okay?”
“I didn’t realize that was even a possibility,” she said. “Is he going to be in trouble for rescuing me?”
Now Johnny did glance at her. “Well, the fact you helped us achieve our mission objective is a big point in your favor. And the Andy’s captain is one of Mike’s best friends in the service. So you coming home with us is unusual, but we’ll get through it. He’d never forgive me if I let you get away now.” Raising his voice, Johnny said, “Tell the Andy we need the med team to meet us on the deck.”
“Roger.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After the small ship floated to a landing inside the battleship's vast hangar space and the hatch opened, Everett bounded out, returning in a moment with a uniformed soldier who eyed Shalira in passing as he went to meet Johnny. Although she couldn’t speak Basic very well, she inferred the sergeant was asking if the doctor was waiting for them.
The soldier’s answer was affirmative. He activated an antigrav litter in some manner Shalira couldn’t see and, working together, Johnny and the newcomer got Mike onto the stretcher. Johnny came to take her elbow.
“Lewis there will bring Mike, and I’m escorting you to the captain of the ship,” he said in Mahjundan.
“I’d rather stay with Michael.”
He shook his head. “Not going to be possible. He needs to go to sick bay pronto. I’ll have to go in for a debrief on our mission, and I need to know I’ve left you in safe hands.” Johnny steered her out of the drone and down the ramp.
Shalira gawked at her surroundings. The hangar was immense, crowded with sleek ships, some similar to the drone she’d ridden in but others clearly of a more lethal nature. Busy crew members shot her curious glances as they went about their duties. A white-clad man who must be the promised doctor waited to the side, clutching some sort of instrument set, tapping his toe with impatience. Everett was already gone.
“Dr. Tyree, let me introduce Her Highness, Princess Shalira,” Johnny said in Mahjundan and then again in Basic.
Doing a double take, murmuring something, the doctor extended his hand.
Shaking hands, Shalira had the sinking realization Johnny and Mike were probably the only two people on board the ship who spoke her language. She knew a smattering of Basic from conversations with Mike on the trail, but not enough to get along on her own in this completely strange environment. She clutched at Johnny’s sleeve in a moment of panic. No wonder he swore not to leave me.
“I told the doc you’re going to need hypnotraining in Basic when he checks you out for injuries,” Johnny said, moving her aside a few steps so the crewman could bring Mike to the deck.
“Thank you. This place is overwhelming.”
Mike was conscious, agitated, swearing at the man directing his antigrav stretcher. He fought the restraining straps, glaring with a clenched jaw at the crew member trying to help him. Instinctively Shalira went to him, taking his hand and pushing him gently to lie back. “It’s all right—I’m here.”
Johnny joined her, as did the doctor. A furious conversation in Basic ensued. Shalira knew enough of the language to realize Mike was refusing medical treatment until he’d personally gotten the captain’s word she was safe and protected on this ship. She clung to his hand, even as she remonstrated with him that Johnny would keep her safe and he had to go with the doctor for treatment. Mike wouldn’t be budged. Johnny translated some of the doctor’s increasingly insistent remarks for Shalira in an undertone.
“What is all this fuss on my hangar deck?” The new arrival’s demeanor left the princess in no doubt he was Captain Nikolai Novikov. All the military personnel around her saluted and relieved expressions replaced the stress and concern.
The captain bent over Mike, eyebrows drawn together in a frown. “When I got the orders to check on a possible Mawreg incursion, I had to go investigate. I can see matters got dicey where you were.” Novikov ran one his hand through his military crop of white-blond hair. “Problems with the roboship extraction?”
Face white and drawn, Mike lay back on the litter. “Orders are orders, Nik. I understood your situation. We're safe now so forget it. I brought back one survivor from the crash, and he’s got the data the Sectors were so hot to retrieve.” Switching to Mahjundan, he said, “Your Highness, may I present Captain Nikolai Novikov? This is his battleship we've come to stay on.”
Shalira extended her hand gracefully. “I’m honored to meet any friend of Michael’s.”
“Nikolai, this is Her Highness Shalira, Imperial Princess of Mahjundar,” Mike announced, switching back to Basic.
Clearly astounded, eyebows raised practically to his hairline, the captain bowed over her hand with as much grace and aplomb as he seemed able to muster. Shalira suppressed a smile.
Another shock was to follow for the poor man.
“I want you to marry us, as soon as possible. Today in fact. After I’ve been in rejuve and debriefed.” Mike laughed at his friend's expression.
“What trouble have you been in?” Giving Mike no time to answer, Nikolai raised a hand. “Never mind, I won't believe it anyhow.” Shaking his head in bemusement, he bowed to the princess. “Welcome to my ship, Your Highness.”
"It is good to be somewhere I don’t have to be afraid of being killed," Shalira said.
"I assure you, anyone who tries to kill you on my ship will be tossed off!" The captain guffawed as soon as Mike translated her remark.
The doctor was still trying to shepherd them toward the edge of the hangar.
Not releasing her hand, Mike persisted. “I’m not done yet, damn it.” Grabbing the captain’s arm, he said, “I want your personal word of honor that Shalira will remain on this ship until she and I get married, you’ll issue her Sectors ID, and then you’ll transport her with me to the nearest commercial spaceport.”
Glancing at her, Nikolai nodded. “Of course. Don’t upset yourself and don’t delay treatment. She’s my guest until she’s your wife and a Sectors citizen. Someone on the planet wants her back, eh?”
“They would if they knew I was alive,” she confirmed as soon as she heard Johnny’s hasty translation.
“And you wish to marry this scoundrel and go off to live with him in the Sectors?” The captain’s question was light hearted in tone, but his expression was stern.
“That’s all I want,” she said, squeezing Mike’s hand. “But first I want him to have his injuries taken care of.”
“Lords of Space, what an uproar this will cause!” The Andromeda’s captain closed his eyes, small smile hovering on his lips, apparently savoring the mental picture. He rested one hand on Mike’s shoulder. “You never could do anything routine, could you? Or by the book?”
“Having been through hell and back together, I can tell you she's a woman in a million. I love her, damn it, and I want you to marry us today.”
“All right, my friend. Then I'll do it and to hell with what Command thinks. On my own ship, I don’t have to ask anyone's permission. You can explain to the authorities later, and I don’t envy you the job. Some regulations somewhere must have been bent a little, if not broken outright, for you to come back engaged to an imperial princess.” Nikolai peered closely at him. “I imagine you’ll be able to explain it. Now get yourself to sick bay and get cleaned up. That’s an order. I’ll personally escort Her Highness to suitable quarters and g
et my staff working on a wedding. See what Stores can create for a wedding dress.”
Shalira bent over to kiss Mike and then stepped closer to the captain as the impatient doctor and his orderlies whisked her lover away for treatment.
The chapel on the Andromeda was nondenominational, per Fleet regulations, suitable for the basic rituals and observances of most of the thirty odd peoples found in the planetary systems making up the Sectors. As captain of the battleship, Nikolai was authorized to perform ceremonies from christenings to weddings to funerals.
Mike stood in his blue dress uniform, grinning from ear to ear, at the far bulkhead, beneath the stunning vista of the galactic star fields projected by the ship’s AI.
Feeling a little foolish, as if he’d stepped from a recruiting holo since he was wearing a dress uniform, he was flanked by his best man, Johnny, who had never—to the best of Mike’s recollection—worn a dress uniform before.
And we’re both as nervous as we were on day one at the Academy and boot camp. Mike took a deep breath, hoping to calm the butterflies in his gut. This is worse than any mission behind enemy lines. At least he could breathe, thanks to the rejuve regenerator treatment. Not even bruises left. And he’d have the strength to give his princess a proper wedding night. A bed on the Andromeda would be much more conducive to what he had in mind than the mat and furs on the cave floor had been. He nudged his best man in the ribs. “You're sure you've got the ring?”
“For the tenth time, I've got the ring,” Johnny whispered. He displayed the jewelry in question for a moment, before stowing it back in his pocket. “I won't drop it.”
Ignoring the small group of wedding guests, Mike gazed at the empty doorway, impatience making his stomach churn. “What could be taking so long? You're sure she was all right?”
“When they threw me out this afternoon so she could try on dresses, she was fine,” Johnny answered. “Calm down before you have an anxiety attack. Got no medkit on me right now.”
Mission To Mahjundar (A Sectors SF Romance) Page 29
