Colony - Blood Kin (Colony Series Book 3)

by Gene Stiles

  “Come stand before Cronus,” Iapetus boomed, pointing to the very spot the Harbormaster occupied before the giant snake had attempted to kill him.

  Pleistos strove to move his uncompliant feet, salty beads of trepidation flowing in rivers along his pallid face. His quavering muscles sought to keep him rooted where he stood, back against the safety of the solid rock wall. He pushed away, each step forced like laboring through a thick, wet, muddy bog, each movement racking him with dread-filled panic. Gone was the stride of confidence the Harbormaster used entering this dark dungeon. In quivering, foreboding hours, Pleistos made his way across the wraith-wrapped room, ghosts of those gone before whispering in his ears.

  Cronus sat where he had, sitting on the front edge of the dark desk, fingers drumming nameless rhythms on the wooden surface, head bowed. His murderous visage, hidden in gloom and ringlets of red curls, betrayed nothing. His chest rose and fell in a calm, measured time, as if nothing of consequence had happened. Iapetus, as motionless as the One Tree, looked only at Cronus, his back turned to Pleistos in scornful contempt.

  “Tell me all of it,” Cronus command quietly, his head still lowered. “What was their plan?”

  “Lord Father,” the Harbormaster stammered, his voice rasping and shivering, “I do not understand.” Pleistos knew to the pit of his terrified soul that only denial would save his life. A mammoth vice clamped the back of his neck, digging into his powerful muscles as if they were saplings and raised him up onto the balls of his feet like he would a young boy.

  “One last time,” Cronus breathed, raising his head, green eyes burning like the brightest sun, “before the bleeding skin is slowly, torturously ripped from your body, bathing you in the most excruciating pain you have ever experienced.” Was there a barest hint of a smile on those demon-bred lips, a cruel desire for Pleistos to continue lying?

  The Harbormaster shattered into a million pieces, spilling the contents of his soul in a growing, putrid pool, all hidden secrets dripping down his pale lips and overflowing at his feet. Shoved into a chair, over the next hour Pleistos told of the meeting, the plan, the true manifests, the Captains and all others he knew to be involved. When there was nothing left to give, the Harbormaster hung his head in shame and fear, his sweaty palms tightly clasped between his knees.

  “That is all you know?” Cronus towered above him, a gigantic, black thundercloud about to unleash furious lightening upon him. Iapetus stood by his side, face as grim as a turbulent storm. “Is that it?” Cronus demanded in a voice so filled with poisonous malice that Pleistos felt the serpent opening its fiery jaws.

  “Yes, Lord Father,” he whimpered, his voice rough and sore. He waited for a crushing blow to end his worthless life, but it did not come. For a brief moment, he wondered if he might be spared. He timidly raised his head to witness Cronus moving away toward the chamber doors. Hope rose in his breast, his eyes filled with questions.

  Cronus parted the doors, ushering in the two Black Guard posted outside. “Take him to the cells below. Strip the flesh from his bones, careful to make the agony last for endless hours. Do not let him die. If he does, you both will replace him. I will be down to kill him myself. Only me.”

  “Creator, no!” Pleistos screamed as the two men gripped his arms and dragged him to his feet. His knees buckled beneath his terror-stricken body, forcing his captors to drag him out of the open doors and to the horrors beyond. “Have mercy, Lord Father! I swear! I told you everything! There is nothing more!”

  “I believe you,” Cronus spat at him. “Traitor!”

  “Iapetus, order the Midnight Death powered up and ready.” Cronus was already stomping out of the tall, open doors, a deadly, black, furious wind following in his wake. “We shall burn those hideous beasts and those that dared that aid them, sending them to the bottom of the sea!”

  Cronus stomped up the gangway under the glow of the bright lights inside the massive hanger, cruelly shoving aside any crewman unlucky enough to be in his path. The ship was alive with the scurrying of ants rushing to their stations. Systems were brought quickly online, tethers released and the mighty engines fired into rumbling life.

  “Whom would you desire to Captain her, Lord Father?”

  “I will, you idiot!” Cronus bellowed, shoving Uthureous off the bridge. “Get her underway!”

  Uthureous picked his aching and bleeding body off the deck, shouted orders then scurried down the gangplank. He stared up at the two silver-suited behemoths, wrapped in blood-red cloaks on the bridge, intensely gratified he would not be aboard this cursed vessel.

  Once the Foreman was gone, Iapetus place his hand on the shoulder of Cronus. “Do you think it is wise to Captain this vessel yourself? Mayhap some with more sea experience would be best.”

  Cronus glared his way, his eyes so red with malice and barely controlled fury that Iapetus dropped his hand from the man’s shoulder, almost taking a step back. He could not help but hear a maddened, shrieking beast hammering at hard granite walls. It send a cold, cold shiver down his spine. Yet, Cronus also burned with that same sense of purpose, the same drive to save the People, that Iapetus so greatly admired and was so grateful for. Come what may, he would always be loyal to Cronus.

  Cronus took only a few moments to study the ship’s controls, so close to those of his starship that they seemed simple enough. ‘I shall have no problem catching those animals! Then they will pay…pay dearly!’

  There was a problem, though, and it would come back to haunt him dearly.

  Chapter XII

  Captain Thalassa had just cleared the headwaters into the open sea when the Black Death left port. Not aware of the demon that raced toward her, the Captain happily turned over the helm to Shuk. The First Mate looked up and gave her a wide, toothy smile, his brown eyes shining like a star. Thalassa returned his smile with her own, draped her leather-clad arm over his shoulder and pulled him into a tight hug.

  “We have done it, my friend. Now, let us find our people.”

  “Yes, Sir!” Shuk beamed. “On our way! Now you go catch a little rest,” he ordered, his eyes twinkling.

  “I will be in my quarters. Inform me when we arrive.”

  Thalassa climbed down from the bridge making her customary rounds on the main deck, congratulating happy crewmen on jobs well done. Her exhaustion so overwhelming, the Captain restricted herself to only the main deck before making her way to her austere quarters to aft. She slipped out of her wet, knee-high, black leather boots, removed her ruby leather headband and plopped down on her bed, a heavy sigh escaping from her full, pink lips. Thalassa loosened the snaps from her vest, sunk into the soft richness of her bed, luxuriating in her warm, comforting beddings. Her body still vibrated from the tense vigilance of their escape from Atlantis, her mind racing with all that could have gone horribly wrong. The troubling thoughts were eventually pushed back by the joy that it was all over. Her beautiful features relaxed with inner contentment, the lids slipping over her sparkling blue eyes as bone-weariness drained from her and embraced her with dreamless sleep.

  A gentle, insistent knocking touched the edge of her consciousness, snapping her out of her slumber, bringing her to the full alertness for which she was so well known. Thalassa sat up, swung off the bed and pulled her boots on even before she heard a voice at her bedchambers. “What is it?”

  “Captain, the other ships are within sight, Sir,” a male voice responded quietly.

  “Thank you, Midshipman,” she replied, sliding her drapery aside, a golden smile upon her lips. Thalassa placed a hand upon the young man’s shoulder as he beamed up at her. “Shall we go meet our friends?”

  “At once, Captain,” he nodded, spinning sharply on his heel and following Thalassa to the main deck.

  A crisp, beautiful sunrise greeted her as she strode upon the main deck, thin bands of wispy, white clouds, drifting in a light blue sky. All three sails were raised, hanging limply in an almost nonexistent breeze. The damp, wooden planks underfoot barely s
wayed in the calm, blue ocean. Thalassa took time to lean against the port bulwarks before taking her place at the helm. To the north, a thick, white fog bank lay like an overstuffed blanket between the coastline and the group of small islands that traveled north for miles and edged the coast like ragged teeth. The greatest beauty, by far, was her three lovely sisters anchored beyond, just waiting to bring the Midnight Star into their welcoming arms. With a peaceful, contented sigh, Captain Thalassa turned away from her contemplation, striding slowly up to the bridge.

  “Thank you, Shuk, for a job well done,” smiled, a sweet sparkle lighting her face.

  “You are more than welcome, my Captain,” the Izon replied, a face-splitting grin warming his dark, but rosy, cheeks. “Yet, it is not only me, but all of the Izon who are thanking you and your comrades this day. You have set us free. We shall always be in your debt,” the First Mate responded, slipping back from the helm. “She’s all yours, Captain.”

  “We are all people,” Thalassa gazed down upon him. “We must take care of each other.” She eased slightly on the throttle, almost coasting toward the other ships awaiting her arrival. When she was less than a mile away, Captain Thalassa, pulled back on the lever, bringing the Midnight Star to a stop and ordered only the kedge dropped to keep the ship steady.

  “Welcome, Captain,” the ship-to-ship com sang. “Captain Lianas of the Wind Star at your service. I trust you had no troubles.”

  “None at all, Captain,” Thalassa responded. “All is well, thank you.”

  “Wonderful to hear,” was the warm reply. “I hate to rush you, but are you ready to get underway? We are all anxious to clear the islands before midday.”

  “As you command, Captain Lianas. I will order our ship to unreeve the kedge immediately.” Captain Thalassa gave the orders to Kuk who quickly passed them along. “First Mate, please stay at the wheel.” The Midnight Star crew was fast, the kedge just clearing the freeboard before the vessel was underway.

  No sooner had she turned the bow toward her sisters when something black and ominous exploded out of the river mouth, roaring like a raging beast, tearing across the calm sea directly in Thalassa’ direction.

  Cronus had a great deal of trouble getting control of the Black Death when it hit the raging waters of the Gaia. He had never as much as been aboard a sailing ship outside of the harbor. In space, there was no twisting, churning current to deal with as there was in the river. Cronus had powered the ship out of its hanger broadside into the powerful waters, causing the vessel to list so hard to starboard that, if it had not been for his incredibly fast reflexes, she would have sunk to the very bottom of the murky depths of the Gaia.

  Cronus jerked back on the port lever and slammed the starboard forward. The Black Death uprighted herself with such ferocity that men belowdecks were tossed about like ragdolls, breaking a few bones and bruising everyone else. Cronus smashed both levers all the way forward and the ship tore into the river like a hungry murcat racing after fresh prey. The engines roared into the night, leaving the tumulus current humbled by the speed of their passing. Other vessels on the river were brushed aside, the wake of the Black Death nearly tumbling them against the walls of the canyon.

  His face as dark as the ship, Cronus crouched over the helm, staring into the twilight of dawn’s coming, eyes blazing emerald fire. The muscles in his timber-wide shoulders rippled beneath his blood-red robe covering his sparkling silver Enviro-Suit. His leg-sized forearms as taunt as the shrouds supporting the mast of the Wind Star, Cronus gripped the silver levers as if they wanted to escape his grasp. The only thing blacker than the ship was the rage twisting in his stygian soul like a pit of poisonous vipers. He would kill all those filthy traitors to the People, those who would align themselves with those mindless brutes, the Izon, those who dared oppose his will! He would set those ships ablaze and laugh at the dancing, fire-covered, bodies on deck! Soon, his demons promised. Soon.

  The Black Death blasted out of the canyon in a detonation of murderous thunder. The beast shredded the ocean waves as a razor-edged blade would slice through the thinnest veil. Almost at once, the forward scanners detected the four vessels to the north, one trailing far behind. Cronus did not even raise his fiery eyes, staring down at the forward display as if daring it to displease him.

  “Port gun ports open!” he screamed over the coms, watching the screens as the first ship appeared to race backward into his clawed fingers. His hate-filled countenance twisted into a snarling grin, a guttural growl slipping past his slightly parted, thin lips. Cronus threw his head back and laughed, the sound so evilly primal his entire crew shuttered with terror. “Shift to starboard! Fire! Fire! Cut that ship in half!”

  Captain Thalassa was not looking at her displays, but out over the calm, blue ocean, a slight, happy smile playing across her full, red lips. To port, the channel between the coast and island chain lay in quiet, mist-shrouded slumber. Above the Midnight Star’s lightly bobbing bow, she could see her companion vessels gliding through the waters alongside the thick, white fog bank to port. The Wind Star and the Northern Star took flanking positions around the Ocean Star in standard escort positions. When Thalassa joined them, The Wind Star would move to the fore and the Midnight Star would take the vacated position.

  “Off the stern! Off the stern!” came a frantic yell from behind her. Thalassa spun around in time to witness something straight out of the deepest depths of burning hell roaring toward the Midnight Star. The black specter was almost upon her, moving at fantastical speed, shifting to her starboard side. Captain Thalassa felt more than saw that fiendish apparition had gun ports open.

  She had no time to shout orders. No time to give warning. No time to glance at her displays. No time to do anything but react. She slammed the throttle forward, grabbed the wheel and spun it so hard to port that the Midnight Star almost careened completely over onto her side. Men and women screamed as they slid across the main deck, desperately searching for something to grasp only to smash with bone-crushing impact against the port bulwarks. More than a few fell into the salty waters, sucked beneath the hull and spit out the other side. Some never resurfaced.

  It was only this frantic maneuver that saved the rest of them. The black ship flashed by at breakneck speed, three plasma-cannons exploding in a blazing white light that dimmed the morning sun. The third in line passed over so close to the Midnight Star’s nearly overturned, wooden hull that its thick, clear finish blistered with the heat. The dark leviathan did not return to its easy prey, but roared out its rage, flying by in an instant, on a straight-line course toward the three vessels beyond.

  Thalassa slipped on the wet deck losing her grip on the wheel. She felt herself begin to fly overboard only to come to a wrenching stop that tore her right arm out of its socket. She screamed as muscles and tendons ripped with torturous agony. The crushing vice on her wrist never let go though she wished only to fall into the open arms of the sea below.

  Shuk planted himself like the One Tree at the helm, leaning so far over that one shoulder kissed the deck. One of his massive hands locked onto the wheel, his other keeping the Captain from hurling into the ocean depths. With inhuman strength, he forced the wheel hard to starboard. With a groan of timbers, the Midnight Star righted herself enough for him to let go of Thalassa and lash his Captain to the podium of the helm where she lay curled around her damaged shoulder, mewing softly. A mist-wrapped island rose out of the fog, so close Shuck could hear the tumbling of breakwaters and taste salt spray on his lips. He jerked back violently on the throttle, spinning the wheel so hard to port, the ship almost capsized once more. Timbers groaned and cracked, grinding against sharp, hidden rocks with crushing force. Shuck could feel the screeching vibration travel up his strain-quivered legs, through his body and into his tightly clenched jaws. Still, he held the fighting wheel, finally feeling the Midnight Star sliding away and into the open water of the channel, quickly cloaked by the dense fog.

  As soon as they cleared the rocks,
Shuk let go of the wheel, watching it spin to level, eased the reversed engine to neutral and let the ship coast to a stop. Even before checking on Captain Thalassa, he barked orders into the com. Those crewmen who were uninjured, scrambled to drop the bow and stern anchors. Others on each deck attended the wounded and eased them to bunks while more rushed to assess and repair damage to the ship. Lastly, Shuk called for a helmsman to take over. Then, and only then, did he reach down with his wide, coarse hands and gently ease his Captain into his muscular arms.

  Captain Lianas heard the roaring of the savage monstrosity to his stern and saw the explosion of light searing toward the Midnight Star. A nameless, horrifying fear knotted his stomach when his stern displays and his own disbelieving eyes witnessed the ship roll over on its side, knowing in his rapidly beating heart that the vessel was lost. His terror did not control him for more than a split second. The Captain bellowed orders to his crew and out over the ship-to-ship airwaves.

  “Into the fog! Into the fog,” he shouted out his command, swinging quickly to port, driving into the blanket of white. “Ocean Star power as fast as you can up the middle! Get as far away as possible! The Northern Star and the Wind Star will cover your escape. You have the most precious cargo, Captain Simoeis. Good luck and fair seas.”

  “Fair well, Captain Lianas,” the Ocean Star responded, “and thank you very much. Best to you, Sir!”

  “Northern Star, swing to starboard in front of her then turn to cover her back.” Lianas ordered. “The Wind Star will track wide to starboard and arc around to aid you.”

  “At your command, Captain,” the Northern Star shouted back.

  Captain Kaikinos raced his ship before the Ocean Star, only able to navigate by the lights of his dimly lit monitors in the mud-thick fog surrounding him. He clenched his teeth together so tightly that his wide lips lost themselves in the dense, long black curls of his beard. The hundred and fifty-foot length of the Northern Star made her turns wide, safe to pass aft of the Ocean Star. The Captain easily straddled the short distance between wheel, throttle and display, his eight-foot plus height and massive, corded-muscle legs gave him an expansive visual range and a wide, unshakable stance. Once clear of the Ocean Star, Kaikinos took his ship into the tightest turn possible without listing too far over, leveling the vessel out and slowing her forward momentum.