Dragon Defense (Heirs to the Throne Book 3)

by Diane Rapp

  “I’d love to see them squirm.” Jordan grinned. “It might be worth Donovan’s reprimand.”

  “This might not be the best time to test Donovan’s temper.” Dr. Alexander sounded somber. “He’s got real problems. Come inside and listen to our news.”

  Large vats of grey sludge were scattered through the inner courtyard. Samurai women solemnly stirred the lumpy liquid and Felesia noticed grey splattered over skin and garments. Everyone took a turn stirring the vats.

  They devoured food and listened to news about the imminent attack from space. Jordan absorbed the story and looked toward the vats, manned by a new crew. Felesia explained how they rescued Shariel and her siblings, careful to keep their voices low.

  Jordan said, “Brandon stayed at the spaceport to help Shariel. I’ll make contact with her and tell them to hide in the caverns during the attack.”

  “How long do we have?” asked Felesia.

  “Less than twenty-four hours,” Dr. Alexander said.

  Jordan nodded. “How can we help?”

  Maggie said, “We mixed the concrete with sand and gravel. It’s nearly ready, so we can use strong muscles to get it into place. It must set for twelve hours before our test run.”

  “That’s cutting it close.” Jordan frowned. “We’d best get started.”

  Salizar approached the group. “Change into these suits.” He held up the silvery garments. “They protect you from the wasting disease—radiation sickness.” He glanced at Dr. Alexander and grinned. “Even a desert rider can learn new words.”

  “Everyone may learn new words and perform new tasks if we survive.” Dr. Alexander looked grim. “The world’s changing and we must change with it.”

  “Desert dwellers shift with the sand. You’ll find us more suited than most to change in a harsh land.”

  Jordan and Felesia zipped up the suits and flexed their arms and legs. “It feels strange but comfortable.”

  Krystal pointed to a large tube connected to a valve. “Follow Maggie and carry that tube. When we open this valve, we’ll pump concrete through until you signal us to stop.” Krystal explained.

  Maggie slipped on her helmet and tested the communicator. “Can you hear me?” Krystal nodded and so did the young people. “Good, let’s begin.”

  Salizar solemnly led the group through the doors to the reactor. Jordan and Felesia felt awed by the size of the machine but had no time for gawking. The crack in the surface oozed water.

  “Haul the tube over there, Jordan. Salizar, help Felesia hold the mouth steady over the crack. It’s important to maintain an even flow. Lord Dartmouth will help me down here.” Maggie shouted orders, and Jordan hauled the tube into position.

  “Begin pumping, we’re in position.” Maggie noted the slow expansion of the tube. It seemed to come alive, whipping across the floor as pressure built up.

  Dar gripped the tube with all his strength as concrete slipped through the silver skin. Salizar and Felesia were nearly flung into the wall as a burst of pressure shot concrete out the opening. Sludge covered their suits as they gained control over the nozzle. It felt like they fought a giant snake, writhing and twisting to free itself.

  “Keep the flow steady,” Maggie said. “You’re doing fine.”

  Jordan’s muscles trembled as he held the hose over the crack. Minutes seemed like hours as muck oozed into the hole. Droplets formed on the surface, seeking an escape along the sea tunnel. Concrete oozed over the wall and hardened.

  “It’s working! Hold on, just a little while longer,” Maggie shouted. The tube continued to fight for its freedom as their hands cramped.

  “Cut the flow, Krystal. Everyone hold steady until the pressure drops. It’s almost there, just a few more minutes.”

  As the tube flattened, Salizar sank to his knees and Jordan slumped against the wall. Felesia rested on a pipe fitting. Their suits and masks were covered with slippery muck but no one cared. Maggie held the radiation detector over the wet slime and scrutinized the repair. Would it hold when the reactor started?

  “What I wouldn’t give for a ton of plasteel,” she muttered. “It’ll have to do.”

  20 ~ PREPARATIONS FOR ATTACK

  Fremont smirked. “We won’t negotiate for good crystals because you’ll give them to us after bombs explode.”

  Donovan clenched his fist. “We called your ship but it doesn’t respond. Call them off!”

  “Why? I enjoy watching you sweat. It’ll be more fun when we capture Dr. Alexander.”

  Donovan paced the full length of the cell. “The doctor’s not at Havenshire. This isn’t a sophisticated planet with mass transit available everywhere.”

  “No matter, we’ll get him before this is over.”

  Donovan wanted to smash Fremont’s face. “What if Dr. Alexander gets killed by one of your missiles?”

  Fremont’s mouth twitched. “You won’t let him die. He’s too important.”

  Donovan snarled, “How can we prevent his death if we don’t know where your missiles might hit?”

  Fremont’s eyes narrowed. “Tell him to take cover.”

  Donovan swung his fist and felt the satisfying crunch of bone. Fremont howled, grabbing his bloody nose. “Tell the Institute to give you a new one, if you make it out of here alive.” He stormed out of the cell.

  Trenton waited outside, a wicked grin on his face. “You can’t reason with his type, but I see you enjoyed negotiating.” He pointed at the blood on Donovan’s knuckles. “We’d better shoot down a few missiles before we negotiate again.”

  “How are the kids doing with target practice?” Donovan marched down the corridor rubbing his hand.

  “Frankly Catherine and Ryan are already better than me. I rigged another toggle and they’re competing with each other for the best score. We don’t have much time. I tried reprogramming the auto destruct sensors so nothing larger than a pea gets through.”

  “Well?”

  “I’m still working on it. Given enough time I can make it work…but we don’t have enough time.” Trenton jogged to keep up with Donovan.

  “The captain on that ship must realize that firing on us is murder. How do we get through to the man?” Donovan muttered.

  “Appeal to his better instincts.”

  “How? He won’t respond to our messages?”

  “While stationed onboard ship we listened to everything. I remember long hours of filibuster we taped during the Gastron crisis, riveting.”

  “You’re a genius, Trenton! Of course they’re listening! What else can they do? Set up a broadcast schedule. Rondall can sing ballads about Drako and get others to tell stories the spacers won’t forget.” Donovan slipped into speed time and ran down the hall, vanishing in front of Trenton’s grinning face.

  “I’ll get back to programming, Donovan!” he shouted to the vacant corridor.

  The radio station in the king’s hall broadcast its first program within the hour. Rondall sang sentimental love stories while lords told emotional stories from their history. After each performance a plea was broadcast to the ship. The program tried to influence one audience, a bored crew waiting to blow Drako apart.

  *****

  Captain Ishtarek scowled as he entered the control room and found his crew listening to Drako with rapt concentration. Ishtarek noticed harsh stares as he marched to his private chamber. His scales rippled and his skin turned dark green, but he maintained composure before the crew.

  What can I do? Orders must be obeyed and Fremont ordered strict radio silence. We must listen but we can’t answer. Frustrated, he rubbed his tongue against his fangs. That idiot will cause a mutiny. Why did he insist on going to the planet?

  Ishtarek heard delightful music float from the control room and strained to hear the tune. The talented musician touched his heart. He let the music carry him to a pleasant mindscape until his sensitive ears heard disgruntled voices.

  “His nibs will push the button himself!”

  “Aye. Gronks are filled
to their gills with duty. Nothin’ will keep him from following orders.”

  “A crime, it is. Fremont has him under his thumb, and it doesn’t set well. Have you seen how green his skin turns?”

  “Yeah, it looks plain eerie. Do you think he’s running short on copper tablets?”

  “Nah, nerves do that to Gronks. I doubt he’s inclined to commit murder any more than us.”

  “Think so? Turn up the sound and let him hear more.”

  “No. A Gronk dies before he violates orders, so they’re sunk.”

  Ishtarek flexed his claws and activated the planetary display on his screen. He studied the trajectory patterns Fremont ordered, hoping to discover a flaw. Must he follow orders to maintain honor or should he save lives? His scales turned emerald as he scratched to the tempo of the music.

  An hour later, Captain Ishtarek glowered at the crewman who knocked at his door. The man swallowed but held his ground. “Sir, the crew requests permission to contact the Institute. The murder of citizens is the crazy idea of one man. We can’t believe the Institute condones mass slaughter.”

  Ishtarek’s unblinking eyes focused on the crewman. “And if I don’t agree?”

  The crewman’s fingers twitched but his hands hung loose. “No one will fire on the planet.” His voice trembled.

  “You speak of mutiny?” Ishtarek leaned forward and his fangs glinted.

  The crewman’s body leaned away from the menace. “Not mutiny, sir, it’s conscience. We cannot follow orders to murder civilians.”

  “Murder?” Ishtarek jerked to his full height and the crewman took an involuntary step backward. “Who calls it murder?”

  The crewman’s forehead beaded with sweat in a room kept very cool. “Captain Donovan calls the action murder. Would you like to hear his latest?” Trembling hands held out the data stylus.

  Ishtarek flicked out a claw and snatched the stylus. “You credit the word of a fugitive?”

  “Sir, men on this ship once served under Captain Donovan during the war. We know him to be an honorable man.” The crewman’s voice regained its resolve.

  Ishtarek’s crest trembled but he avoided the man’s accusing gaze. “I won’t require anyone to violate their conscience.” He turned a harsh stare toward the crewman. “I will not disobey my orders! When the hour arrives, I will fire the missiles if no one is willing.”

  The crewman slumped. “Yes, sir. May I be excused, sir?”

  Ishtarek flicked a claw and the crewman fled. He slipped the stylus into a slot and sat back. He’d known Donovan was down there, but he hadn’t allowed himself to listen to Donovan’s voice. Ishtarek’s scales rippled up his backbone as Donovan’s plea filled the room. His claws dug into the plasteel chair, remembering his fellow officer. Ishtarek cursed the day he accepted duty under Fremont.

  21 ~ JARRACK’S ESCAPE

  Trenton stood with his hands stretched before the hearth. Donovan examined his friend, noting the gray hairs that streaked Trenton’s hair and beard and the deep lines around the eyes. Trenton never stayed silent, always ready to crack a joke to ease tension, until today.

  “You miss Maggie,” Donovan said. Trenton turned, startled by his friend’s voice.

  “Aye, I miss her.” Trenton’s voice lacked enthusiasm.

  “But it’s more than that,” Donovan said. “Want to talk?”

  Bright flames danced like fairies, heedless of mortal desires. Trenton gazed at the fire and frowned. “I failed.” His voice sounded somber.

  Donovan’s large hand touched his friend’s shoulder gently, hoping to soothe the man’s turmoil.

  “The automatic tracking system cannot be changed.”

  Donovan sighed.

  Trenton nodded and stared at his king. “It’s an archaic system, Donovan. We need to modify the programming in space, but the shuttle isn’t space tight and we don’t have the time.”

  Donovan sank into a chair. “We have the manual system. With luck we can shoot the missiles down.”

  “Catherine and Ryan play a good game when it’s only points on a scoreboard. What will they do after people die from a miss?”

  “They’ll do what we did during the war; they’ll work until they succeed. Those youngsters must believe they can work miracles. It’s your task to convince them because it’s all we have left.” Donovan’s harsh tone issued a challenge.

  Trenton groaned. “You’ve got lots of faith in my acting ability.”

  Donovan laughed. “Yes, I have faith in you, my friend. Make those kids believe they can shoot down missiles and soon you’ll believe it yourself.” Donovan watched Trenton’s face.

  Trenton’s eyes narrowed and a muscle twitched in his jaw. His fists tightened as though he wanted to throw a punch but kept his control. “All right, I’ll do it! I pray that it works.”

  “Chella would be happy to hear you’re converted.”

  Trenton’s shoulders relaxed and he scratched his beard. “Maybe I’ll con the soldiers guarding Fremont into a bet. He’s got them convinced we’re done for.”

  “Well, if it comes to winning a bet, I know you’ll make it happen.”

  “I take incentive from gold, that’s certain.” Trenton grinned and his eyes glinted.

  “Get down there, Trenton, before word spreads and the odds change against your bet.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Trenton performed an exaggerated salute and marched out.

  *****

  When Donovan flew off in the shuttle, Tanya, Tessa and Chella watched Anthony romp with the cubs, tumbling, rolling, leaping and chasing in the meadow.

  Chella sighed. “They’ve got too much energy.”

  Tanya’s eyes filled with tears. “He never played at home. Now I realize Jarrack’s evil kept him from being a child.”

  Tessa gripped Tanya’s hand. “He’ll forget.”

  Tanya shook her head. “He might learn to live with the memory and overcome his fear.”

  “Fear?” Chella asked.

  “Jarrack’s still trying to touch him.”

  Tessa remembered the eerie blue haze. “The experience is too fresh, Tanya. It will go away.” But she didn’t really believe it.

  “We’re going to get far away from that…box.”

  Tessa nodded. “We’re leaving soon. Kriegen says we can haul the clay box behind our horses and I’m anxious to get back to Havenshire.”

  Chella gazed into the sky. “We’d better ride fast. I think Havenshire might be the only safe place soon.”

  “Stop it, Keevee! You’re getting my face all wet.” The cubs charged Anthony. He ran giggling toward Tanya, and she got caught in the middle of wriggling bodies and wet tongues.

  They rolled on the ground, laughing, until a gray female climbed over her face. “Ouch!” Tanya yelped.

  Startled by the human’s cry, the cubs sat down and stared. Anthony sat on his knees “talking” with the cubs for a minute, and then said, “Mommy, Keevee is sorry for stepping onto your face. Can we go play some more?”

  “Sure, just watch out for those sharp puppy teeth.” Tanya smiled as Anthony ran after the cubs. “We’re going to live in Marasuta’s fortress. I hope there’s a pack nearby.”

  “Kriegen makes sure that wolves protect all of Jarrack’s children,” Tessa said.

  *****

  Using pieces of wood as levers, the wolves slid the red clay box onto a wagon “borrowed” from a human settlement. Tessa and Chella hitched their horses to the wagon and climbed aboard.

  Kriegen and Tendra bid them farewell. Kriegen said, A designated host must travel with you from this time forward. She’ll get to know the ancestor minds. We decided a small pack should become your companions, since you’re the Protector of the Humans.

  Tessa noticed the beautiful young she-wolf. What do I call you? she asked.

  Until I host an ancestor line, I take no formal name. As pack leader you may choose a call name for me.

  Tessa scrutinized the dark wolf. Flecks of gray streaked her black coat and
highlighted the sleek contours of her body. Her brownish gold eyes looked intelligent and lively. Tessa said, I’ll call you Shadow, since you’ll follow me. Is that all right?

  The she-wolf’s long pink tongue flicked over her black nose. I’m proud to carry the name. How do you wish the pack to address you?

  Tessa grinned, I host the Amber line but I’m still human. Call me Tessa. When you wish to speak with the ancestors, call them Amber.

  A group of ten wolves completed Tessa’s new pack, and the largest trotted next to the clay box. Tessa saw Konig among those guards. He was obviously assigned to keep Jarrack contained, and Tessa recognized his designated host. She felt comfortable among her pack.

  *****

  Chella insisted they maintain a fast pace, casting worried glances at the sky. When darkness fell they camped in a clearing half way to Havenshire. Tessa woke when she heard a voice and felt compelled to examine the clay box. She lit a candle and approached the wagon. A flickering light danced across the clay. It looked alive. Tessa tried to turn away but walked forward.

  The lid on the box bulged. She clutched the candle with both hands to hold it steady. How can he move inside the clay? Her heart pounded as she heard his voice.

  Set me free.

  The red clay glistened and enticed her to touch the surface. It felt soft and wet. Suddenly her hand sank into the clay and she tried to scream. Hot tallow dripped onto her other hand and she dropped the candle. The light sputtered and died, leaving Tessa alone in the dark.

  Not alone!

  A hand grabbed her wrist and held her trapped. The ancestor minds shouted, Fight him! Don’t allow the evil one to control your body! A growl rumbled deep in her chest and animal rage threatened to overwhelm her mind. She snarled and fought to free her paw.

  Tessa! Another mind called her name. I’m here to help you fight him.