by Diane Rapp
*****
Chella discarded her nun’s robe for the comfortable tunic and pants of a Samurai. She eased herself into the pilot’s seat and scrutinized the controls. Her long black fingers hovered over the controls.
“Wish I could use my healer’s skills to meld my mind with the system. I’ll command my body to remember.” She got attuned to the touch of the keyboard and delved into her memory. Soon her fingers moved over the buttons in a sequence she remembered, and the shuttle came to life.
Power surged through the system and the engine hummed. A worried guard peered into the open door and Chella flashed him a dazzling smile. She shouted, “Tell Bryant I’m going to get Donovan and Trenton. They’ll be back soon.”
She closed the door, motioned the guard to step back, and activated thrust. The shuttle lurched from the ground with a jolt, whipping Chella’s head against the seat. “Easy girl,” she said and eased back on the controls until the jets whined.
Chella’s hands trembled. She remembered the soft Georgian drawl of her first flight instructor. “Now let her rise, smooth as a kitten’s purr. That’s it, honey. You’re a regular bronco buster.” The memory flooded her mind and she grinned.
“Now, where should I go?” Chella gazed at the dark horizon and shuddered. She hated night flying, especially over uncharted terrain, but she touched a button and the screen switched. “I’ll use night vision, why didn’t I think of that before? I guess my fingers thought about it. Let’s take this crate to Donovan and let him take command.”
The shuttle banked into a wide turn as Chella visualized a path to Kriegen’s cavern. She stared at white jagged peeks silhouetted against a sooty gray. “I guess I’ll take a short hop over the Crags and land on his mountain.”
As she got closer to the Crags the shuttle climbed, rocking as it cut across shifting air currents. Night vision illuminated wispy clouds that swirled fiendishly above the icy peaks. “Watch the clouds, Chella.” The old instructor reminded her, “You’ll see a down draft when a cloud gets sucked over the face of a cliff.”
Chella spied the telltale signs. She pulled back on the throttle but the sky dropped out from under the aircraft. Warning buzzers screamed. She ground her teeth and banked, barely in time to avoid a rock wall that jutted in front of her window.
“Lord, please help me!” she cried.
Jagged granite threatened to grind the shuttle into sophisticated refuse until a hole opened. Chella eased the shuttle through a narrow a chasm of frozen waterfalls. Gigantic icicles hung in suspended animation, sheathed in a mystical aura. The spectacular sight might thrill a tourist but Chella had no time to enjoy it. The shuttle lurched against a gust of wind whipping through the narrow ravine.
Engine heat and turbulence shook icy daggers loose, and Chella winced as they crashed against the hull. “I’ll never fly at night again!” she promised. “Just let me survive this trip.”
Light drew her attention. “Sunrise!” she cried and cut off the night vision screen. Inching her way through the crevasse, the metal hull scraped against narrowing ice walls. Finally it stopped, wedged in the icy jaws of a snow monster. Sunlight glowed through ancient blue ice as Chella set the shuttle controls into hover position. She sat sweating under monstrous dripping fangs and heard the ice crack and groan.
“You can’t keep me here.”
She jammed the throttle forward and blasted heat against the ice. Steam hissed into billowing clouds and droplets coated her windows. The shuttle vibrated until it hurt her teeth. Abruptly the shuttle blasted free in an explosion of steam and ice.
Wind whistled through a jagged hole in the side of the aircraft and Chella fought for control. The shuttle bucked and rolled but she forced it to obey her will. Climbing into the deep blue sky over the summit, the shuttle soared above the valley where Kriegen’s pack lived. The ship was no longer a space-tight craft, but it flew!
Grateful to survive, Chella shouted, “Thank you, Lord!” The shuttle swooped down on dented silver wings, like a frosty bird escaping the jaws of a snowy basilisk.
*****
Donovan woke to the sounds of an aircraft outside the cave. Instantly awake, he ran outside and watched a shuttle bank over the valley. Gripping his sword, he ran to the landing site.
Chella landed in a meadow and wiped her face with trembling fingers.
Sleek bodies flowed toward her, followed by a sprinting human. “Donovan!” she cried, eager to turn control over to him. Tears trickled down her cheeks and Chella opened the aircraft.
Golden eyes peered into the cavity of the metal bird as wolves prepared to challenge the frightening metal creature.
Sky monster, fly to your own den in the sky.
Chella heard their mental voices and climbed out. I’m not a monster. I came to find Donovan.
He arrived, panting. “Chella, what’s the meaning of this?”
She hugged him to keep from collapsing and said, “I can’t operate the space defense system, so I came to get you. My students are learning from the manual but need a higher hit ratio.”
“Hold on! Give it to me slowly.” Donovan gripped her shoulders and Chella rubbed her forehead. She forced herself to breath and explained in detail. When she finished, Donovan scrutinized the long gouges and jagged hole in the shuttle. “How’d you get these?”
“A snow monster grabbed the shuttle but spit me out.” Chella tried to sound jovial but Donovan felt her stress.
He said, “I think it’ll fly. How much time to we have?”
Chella pointed at the clock on the display panel. “Forty-two hours at best.”
Donovan grinned. “Really? I thought you said it was an emergency.”
Chella nodded. “I like to exaggerate.”
“I’ll go fetch Trenton. He’s a wizard on the boards,” Donovan said. “Where do I find him?”
“He’s on the trail from the spaceport to Havenshire, bringing back equipment. Take the shuttle and leave me here. I’d rather ride a horse with Tessa,” Chella said. “This is a two-man shuttle.”
“Ask Tessa to describe Jarrack’s capture and bring his box back to Havenshire.”
Chella’s eyebrows arched. “Give my best to Trenton, and we’ll see you at the castle.” She stepped back, grateful to stand on solid ground.
Kriegen wagged his tail. Chella, we welcome you to the pack’s home.
Thanks, I’m glad I arrived in one piece. Tell me about Jarrack and this box we must transport.
*****
Bryant wasn’t surprised to hear that Chella took the shuttle to get Donovan. He felt grateful for her initiative, but counted on her to help keep the lords calm.
Young people bustled around the secret chamber, trying new buttons and looking dazzled when an aerial display lit the room. Bryant cringed. He understood the value of this equipment but grew up believing technology was worse than witchcraft. Only his oath to King Donovan kept him from smashing everything.
Young minds adapted to change better than an old soldier’s. Caston waved and Bryant entered the room. “Sire, we’re making great progress!” He saw Caston’s enthusiasm reflected in the faces of his companions.
“Good! Keep it up. We’re expecting Donovan back soon.” Bryant forced himself to sound positive.
Caston grinned. “It’s great fun! Catherine’s hit ratio is already three out of six and Ryan can hit four of six.”
Bryant kept silent as he controlled the desire to flee. “Keep practicing until Donovan arrives.” He moved into the hallway and stood shaking.
This was bad! He feared the concept of killing men with beams of light and concussion bombs. War should be more difficult—a man who fought face-to-face with his enemy faced the consequences of killing a man. Bryant hated killing and spent many nights with ghosts haunting his dreams. Long-distance killing felt like fun to these youngsters. Great fun!
Bryant shook himself and decided to keep the lords away from this chamber. They barely constrained their abhorrence of technology, and
if they saw these contraptions, he’d lose all cooperation. Worse yet, if the lords found this kind of battle more palatable, they’d use it without provocation.
*****
Donovan lost valuable time navigating. The visual method felt tedious, but he had no aerial maps of Drako. He flew over terrain he once traveled on horseback until he spotted the spaceport. On the trail to Havenshire, he found a column of soldiers and hoped he could land without panicking the horses.
He picked a spot well ahead of the riders and eased the shuttle onto the ground. Trenton and his companions thundered up to the open door and Donovan shouted, “Easy, Trenton. It’s me.”
Trenton turned to the other soldiers. “Our King captured an alien spacecraft, so keep your distance and don’t spook the horses.” The riders moved back, grateful to steer clear of the eerie machine.
Trenton’s eyes sparkled. “Thought I’d never fly one of these beauties again.”
“Don’t look gleeful; we’ve got a bad situation on our hands. Tell your men to ride like the devil to Havenshire and climb in. I’ll explain on the way.”
Trenton shoved gear into the shuttle, spoke with his men, and settled into the copilot’s seat. “Better call Dr. Alexander on this radio and explain what’s happening. I’ll listen while I fly, so don’t waste time explaining twice.”
Donovan nodded. He turned on the radio and waited for Dr. Alexander to answer, wondering how they’d keep missiles from destroying Drako. The doctor related his own bad news about the nuclear reactor, and Donovan ground his teeth in anger. His family scattered across Drako and danger looming, they must use archaic equipment to fight the Institute.
*****
Bryant felt grateful when Donovan emerged from the shuttle with Trenton at his heels. He gripped Donovan’s hand with the expression of a drowning man. Donovan grimaced. “I’m pleased to see your grisly face, Bryant. Fill me in on developments as we walk. Trenton, get to the control room.”
Bryant felt better as second in command and recounted the events. Donovan absorbed the details and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well done, Bryant, now maintain control over the Council. Trenton and I need uninterrupted time in the control room. Give us that time.”
Bryant looked perplexed, “But sire, you’re back and in better position to calm the lords.”
Donovan face turned grim. “My post is at the controls. As prime minister you must assume command in the political ring while I do important work. Those are your orders!”
“Yes, sire.” Bryant swallowed his objection, remembering how he felt inside that control room. “I’d rather fill a political post right now.”
Donovan scrutinized him but asked no more questions. “Don’t disturb us unless there’s no other choice.” Donovan glanced into the control room with mild surprise. It looked strange to see young people dressed in courtiers’ clothing man computer boards.
“That’ll be all, Bryant,” he muttered and stepped into a hive of activity.
Trenton’s eyes sparkled. “You’ve got a real mess here!” The young faces turned to him in dismay.
“Pardon, milord,” Caston said and stepped forward. “We followed the manual to learn the functions and didn’t intentionally hurt anything.”
Donovan laughed. “When it comes to equipment, Trenton is a-know-it-all.”
“I certainly hope so.” Tension vibrated through Caston’s body. “We’ve got a problem and can’t clear it up.”
Trenton strode forward and gently moved Julian from his chair. “I’d say you have a problem. It’s a good thing we got here when we did or the whole system could’ve crashed.” Trenton manipulated dials and pressed buttons, much to the amazement of young eyes that followed his actions.
“Carry on, Trenton.” Donovan commanded to deaf ears. “Caston, give me a run down on what you’ve learned. This system is antiquated, and we need to adjust our knowledge.” Trenton cast a disgruntled glance but kept working.
“Don’t worry about Trenton. He’s temperamental about his equipment.” Donovan drew Caston aside, keeping one eye on Trenton while the boy spoke.
“We ran through the exercises in the manual. Julian can tell you the facts that we’ve discovered about the spaceship. Catherine and Ryan practiced firing simulations. Ryan can hit four out of five targets. A few more hours and he may get a perfect score.”
“Good, I’ll speak with Julian first and then to Ryan and Catherine. The rest of you watch until Trenton calls the system green.”
“Green?”
“That’s spacer talk.” Donovan smiled. “It means he’ll let you know when it’s working properly.”
18 ~ GODS OF THE MAGIC BOX
Dr. Alexander listened to Donovan describe the attack against Havenshire. He said, “We’ll take the radio to the mullah’s throne room. Call us in half an hour so we can put on a show for the mullah and convince them to evacuate.”
“Good idea. We’ll radio in half an hour with a dire warning. Good luck.”
Alex said, “I’ve been waiting for this to happen.”
Maggie frowned. “The Institute sent Fremont after us, the mullah expects to hear from the gods, and Lauryn may be forced to marry Salizar. What have you been waiting for?”
“I know what the Institute wants, and they won’t risk killing us until they get it. In the meantime try to see Tamarind. We must accomplish all the tasks facing us.”
Maggie nodded. “I bought a gift and requested permission to give it to her.”
“Good. While I wait for Donovan to radio, I’ll concoct a story to conform to the situation.”
Twenty minutes later Dr. Alexander’s long stride carried him within a few feet of the mullah’s door before frantic guards stopped him. “I must speak with the mullah! The gods are very angry and his people are in danger.” His loud voice carried through the open door.
“Allow him to pass!” the mullah called out.
“Go speak to Tamarind and wait for my signal,” he said to Maggie.
The doctor’s stride outpaced the guards as he swept into the mullah’s hall with fire in his eyes. The mullah’s eyes clouded as he gazed at the doctor’s grave expression. “What did we do to displease the gods?”
Dr. Alexander’s lips curled into a sarcastic grin. He produced an offworld device from the folds of his robes and watched the mullah’s eyes grow round. “The gods will tell us how to save your people through this magic box.”
The mullah stared at the box. “Do the gods wish to speak with me?” he asked.
Dr. Alexander shook his head. “I am blessed with the responsibility of listening for the message. We wait until they call.”
*****
The Seawitch glided into the port of Asbohar under full sail. Captain Chad breathed a sigh of relief as his men trimmed the sails without grumbling. He greeted the dock inspector on the wharf. “We were forced to rescue the crew of a shipwreck, and request the service of a doctor.”
The inspector’s eyes glinted. “The gods are kind as there’s an infidel doctor inside the palace walls.”
Chad’s surprise pleased the inspector. “Take us to this healer.”
The inspector frowned and shook his head. “He’s the honored guest of the mullah and cannot be disturbed.”
Chad discretely passed a bulging pouch to the man. “Our gratitude may prove worthy of the difficulty you face in fulfilling our request.”
The inspector grinned and slipped the pouch into his robe. “I’ll guide you to the palace, and you may submit the request at your own risk.”
Chad understood. “My party will be ready soon.” He bowed and the mercenary backed away. Chad ran up the gangplank and found Lord Dartmouth and Krystal. He said, “We may be in luck. There’s a white doctor at the palace! The sailors will prefer being treated by one of our own.”
Krystal’s face brightened. “It’s Dr. Alexander. In all the excitement, I forgot about his mission to Asbohar.” She glanced at the domed building and nodded. “Alex is the royal ph
ysician.”
The Captain grinned. “We must request the doctor’s help at the palace, since he’s a guest of the mullah.”
“Is that a problem?” Krystal asked.
Captain Chad shrugged. “The desert tribes are touchy about protocol. It’s risky strolling down the streets, let alone marching up to the palace.”
“I’ll go with you,” Krystal said without a hint of fear in her voice. “The mullah can’t refuse the queen’s request to see her own doctor.”
Chad suggested, “Cover your face, milady. These desert types get a might weird when it comes to women with bare faces. A man got his throat slit for glancing at one of their doxies.”
“I’m the queen, so I’ll keep my face uncovered,” Krystal said. “Lead the way, Captain.”
Captain Chad issued orders to his first mate and departed with Krystal and Lord Dartmouth. They followed the dock inspector through a tangle of streets toward the palace. As they approached the gate, stern guards with jeweled scimitars stood in their way.
Ignoring the threat, Krystal held her head high and glided past the guards as though she expected obeisance. The Captain kept his grin in check although he thought it was great fun to watch Krystal strike fear in desert riders. Krystal’s reputation kept the guards at bay.
Unprepared for the appearance of the infidel queen in his throne room, the mullah looked startled. His servants scurried like frightened squirrels as Queen Krystal swept through the room flashing a wry smile. She halted in front of the mullah.
“What kind of insult is this?” Krystal hissed, and the mullah blanched. “A queen does not walk from the docks through a throng of curious onlookers. I thought desert hospitality was a thing of pride.” She surveyed the faces near the dais and caught Tamarind’s eye. “Your daughter should inform you that visitors are not treated like this at Havenshire.”
