"I was just nervous, JOH. I'm new here. I don't know everyone. I don't know how to gauge people."
"You are afraid of Salvan." It was a statement.
"No. No. Of course not." She started walking again.
"There are others who fear him."
Aimee stopped.
"There are?" She grabbed JOH and held him steady before her. "Why?"
"I have not been able to determine that. But I have seen others react like you just did. It makes me curious. I need to investigate."
Somehow that admission made her feel better. As if JOH represented the authorities and he believed in her anxiety.
"If you ever learn anything, can you tell me, JOH?"
"All you have to do is ask."
JOH thrived on questions nearly as much as he thrived on answers.
"I like you, JOH. You are alright."
"I like you, Aimee. You are completely right too."
Aimee laughed and stalled at the next intersection. She studied the symbols up high on the corner. The familiar X with the line through it pointed towards the left. A new icon pointed to the right. It was a diagonal line with a straight line intersecting across the top. It looked like a gun.
"What is that, JOH?"
"That's the launch bay."
The launch bay. Zak.
"Okay." She nodded. "I know my way now."
JOH’s crystal eyebrow descended. "I sense you are about to leave me."
"You sense correctly," she grinned. "But no worries, I’m sure I’ll run into you again in a few feet.” Her smile faded. “Thank you for—" For saving me, "—for helping me."
"I'm just doing my job, Aimee." His familiar smirk returned. "I am going to do some investigating now."
She would be curious to see what his research yielded, but right now there were more pressing matters to address. Like a hieroglyph that resembled a gun.
"Bye, JOH." Aimee tapped his blue face on the cheek and he faded away.
Spinning around, she looked up at the gun and started down that corridor with reserved enthusiasm.
* * *
If the launch bay seemed active yesterday, today it was teeming with personnel as if in preparation for the arrival of a dignitary. A raucous noise filled the air and Aimee clamped her hands over her ears. Only a hundred yards away, a craft similar to Zak's now hovered about three feet off the ground. The massive cylinders which looked like tympani drums were aglow with blue flames. Not really flames, per se, but a blue charge similar to the ripple of air visible atop a jet engine. Inside, the low-slung cockpit of this terra angel was a seated man. He wore an egg-shaped helmet that bobbed around as he checked the interior. With a final nod his head jerked back a split second before the craft roared through the bay, its radiant tail nearly blinding Aimee. She squinted at the vehicle as it slipped through the partition at the end of the bay and was swept away into the endless night.
In the very next slot another craft ignited and the sound rumbled up her legs, making them unstable. She pried her hands away from her ears and began paralleling the wall at the rear of the deck. If people noticed, they were too preoccupied to acknowledge her.
Terra angels. She liked that. These were not harbingers of death. These were chaperones meant to explore and protect. Of course, they were commandeered by Warriors. That didn’t play into the whole angel concept.
Along the back wall she passed by groups of Warriors—tall, strong and resplendent in their silver uniforms. Personnel with lesser physical attributes executed visual examinations of the uniforms, typing in notes on hovering JOHs. One Warrior possessed a tinge of yellow across his abdomen and seemed to be arguing its innocence. From what Raja had explained, a trace of yellow could be anything from hunger pangs to a bout of diarrhea.
Aimee slipped unseen behind their debate. Yesterday this bay had been quiet and she and Zak were able to cross over the deck without incident. If she were to attempt that same path today, a host of vibrating space crafts with nuclear reactors strapped to their backs would treat her like an inconvenient gnat in their haste to take flight.
She located Zak's ship. Zari. It was idle. No throbbing engines. There was also no sign of the man himself. A sea of silver uniforms blanketed the rear end of the deck, but nowhere could she locate the familiar stunning figure in black. She reached his terra angel and ducked down under the frame between the engines and cockpit. She peeked around to see if anyone was approaching, but the closest group of men were busy examining the adjacent craft. One man barked off an order in a language she could not interpret.
Aimee ran her palm along the sleek underbelly of the terra angel. It was so cold to the touch. She inched closer to the cockpit, and shivered from the pervasive chill. Yesterday she had not been in close enough proximity to realize that this machine was a giant Popsicle. Blowing into her clamped hands to induce warmth, Aimee searched for the secreted lever that Zak had used to open the cockpit. Locating it, she cast a hasty glimpse over her shoulder and then touched the release mechanism. The door lifted with a soft hiss. Again she looked around, but no one paid her any heed. The warmth of the cockpit beckoned, not to mention the allure of the bank of gadgets as beguiling as diamonds to a tech-hungry college student.
Aimee slipped inside and gasped when the door fastened shut behind her. Crouched on the tips of her toes behind the pilot’s chair, she swiveled to see if the culprit was outside. There was no one. It must have closed automatically. She fished near the door for a latch that would release it, but was unsuccessful.
The dashboard distracted her with its mesmerizing complexity. There were not nearly as many buttons and controls as in the cockpit of a jet. Polished black panels sloped beneath the wraparound glass bulwark, but sat latent, awaiting the pilot to bring them to life. The polished surface gleamed like the lacquered hood of a grand piano. She slid her hand along that gleaming panel as screens jumped to life beneath her touch. Half-expecting JOH’s bright face to appear and berate her, Aimee shot a glimpse outside again to see if she had attracted any attention. Aside from the fact that activity had stepped up, no one glanced at her craft.
Returning her focus to the illuminated screens, she realized that they depicted a detailed view of the area in front of the ship. The monitors appeared to be heat-censored because when a man walked across the deck fifty yards away, the figure registered as a moving red licorice stick.
The red form continued by and the screen was vacant again. Aimee glanced up to confirm that there was no one between her and that yawning portal into night. Illogical as the thought might be, she began to consider the likelihood of her mastering this spacecraft and hijacking it back to Earth. The more she thought about it, the more the rogue notion tempted her. She frowned at the panel, trying to make sense of the markings. Taking a deep breath didn't help.
Aimee heard a voice.
She dropped onto her hands and knees, below the window. It was actually two voices, and one she recognized as the rich timbre of Zak. She began to shimmy her way into the tight compartment behind the seat. To her dismay the panel to the ship swung up. Damn, this neon suit. He was going to see her.
Zak's voice was so close she jumped and hit her head on the top of the bin. Her limbs trembled when she caught a glimpse of his black suit climbing the steps into the craft. With the misguided philosophy that if she couldn’t see him, then he couldn’t see her, she clamped her eyes shut.
The hiss of the panel dropping back into place, followed by the vacuum of silence confirmed that the door was sealed tight again. The shuffle of fabric against fabric indicated that Zak was in here with her. Opening her eyes, she expected to be staring down the barrel of some exotic ray gun, but all she saw was the back of the seat in front of her. Zak's elbows were visible on each side as he leaned forward. Lights flipped on and they radiated off her suit like Christmas tinsel. Zak was still facing forward, though.
Beneath her, the floor began to vibrate and she could hear Zak talking to someone over an intercom. H
is words were in English but laced with a local dialect. Understanding one out of every four words, she was able to get the gist that he was obtaining clearance to take off. Fireworks of panic blasted inside her head. She had to reveal herself now while she could still get off the ship.
Aimee fell back on her butt as the terra angel leaped forward. Where was the explosion of rockets? Where was the countdown? Where was the make sure all trays and stowaway items are secured, speech? The force of gravity hauled her flat against the rear of the ship. She noticed a blur of lights fly by in the windows, but it was like tears streaming out of her eyes. She flattened her palms on both sides of the bin for stability and her teeth chattered at the sheer force of speed.
The roar stopped and her stomach felt like it had climbed up out of her mouth and now floated around in front of her. The vibration was gone and there was an unearthly silence.
Zak barked off a few more commands and then, he too, fell silent.
Curiosity ate at her to climb up and peek out the window, but she remained still, calculating her options. After about ten seconds she concluded that there weren’t any. She could hope to hide back here for the duration of Zak's trip, but already her kidneys were reminding her that even in space a lady needed to relieve herself. Where the heck was the bathroom on this thing? Oh right, it was designed for a man.
Zak's arm shot out and she could see his fingers manipulating controls on the left-side panel of circuitry. The black synthetic material of his suit hugged the muscle in his forearm. The limb withdrew and Aimee peeked around both sides of the chair to see what he was doing. He was controlling a panoramic replica of the view outside. If he zipped his fingertip along the right-side panel, the craft banked to the right. His left hand moved in a quick jerk and the terra angel catapulted around a nebulous obstacle. The spacecraft was ultra-sensitive to his command. At the next swipe of his hand, Aimee tumbled onto her side and let loose a muffled cry.
"Gayat!"
Aimee didn't know what the word was, but it had to be one doozy of a curse from Zak’s native tongue.
"Who is back there?" The English translation kicked in.
She hesitated and then cleared her throat. "It's Aimee."
There was another muttered curse, followed by a smack against one of the boards. The craft jumped under each of Zak's jerky motions. Aimee knew he was mad, but she refused to cower. She just wanted to go home.
A deeply drawn breath sounded and then he managed a composed voice. "What are you doing on my ship?"
Yeah, he was not happy. The notion nearly made her smile.
"I didn't intend to stay on it," she defended. "But I climbed in, and then the hatch closed, and then next thing I knew you were on board, and before I even had a chance to say, Zak, I'm here, whooosh, we were off into the cosmos. And then I thought—I thought that maybe I could convince you to fly this thing to Earth."
A heavy silence loomed from the front seat.
Aimee opened her mouth to add more, but snapped it shut when she heard him say, "Stop."
"Stop what?"
"Stop talking."
She opened her mouth again, but snapped it shut as Zak swiped his hand on the side panel and she tumbled onto her side.
"Dammit, you could give me some warning before you do that," she admonished.
"If you were an approved passenger you would be secured in place, and I would not have to give you any warning."
She hated it when people were right.
"I have to concentrate," Zak continued. "We're in the approach to Bordran and it is a tricky one. In this atmosphere, I'm unable to rely on the TA's automatic landing references. I have to do this manually—and I need quiet."
Aimee held her tongue...for a second. "Am I going to go flying through the windshield when you land this thing?"
"Possibly," he grated.
She thought she detected a grin in his response. It aggravated her because it was at her expense. She climbed up onto her knees and spread her hands out, laying her palms flat on each side of the craft for leverage. No longer concerned about being detected, she could now inch her chin up and look out the panoramic window. She gasped, startled to find that the green planet which had appeared so minuscule on the Horus, now dominated the right side of the craft and seemed only miles away.
"It looks peaceful enough." Oh my God, she was about to land on a foreign planet!
"What you are seeing is a thick cloud of gas. The planet is far beneath that ring, and the voyage through that vapor is not an easy one. So yes, you could quite possibly end up going through the windshield. Fortunately, the windshield is made of a composite strong enough to withstand tremendous air and water pressure, as well significant fluctuations in temperature." He hesitated while maneuvering the craft, and then added, "And catapulting young women."
"Is there anything I can do?" she cried, oblivious to his sarcasm.
"In front of you there should be a symbol that looks like a—"
"A circle with a line through it?"
"Yes. That one. Run your finger along the line, and back up a bit."
"Run my finger along the line and then back up?" she asked. "Or back up and reach forward and run my finger along the line?"
The sigh was unmistakable from the front seat.
"Either. If something hits you, then move."
Aimee frowned. "You aren't being very nice."
"I didn't ask for a guest."
"I didn't ask to be taken from my planet."
"I didn't take you from your planet." Zak countered and added a hasty, "do it now, Aimee."
She reached forward and traced the tip of her pointer finger along the line and then sat back on her heels. A quick whirr sounded and the flat surface before her transformed as a disc slid out and opened into two concave walls. A jumper seat! It looked like a cracked egg shell. She climbed into it and was now seated comfortably with her back against Zak's. As soon as she sat down the curved walls slid further, ensconcing her inside the egg.
"We have a strict schedule to maintain. I can't alter it by taking you back to the Horus. Fortunately, this trip to Bordran is a simple one or else your stunt would not only pose an inconvenience, but it could put you in jeopardy. And another thing—you don't even know how your body is going to react to the air on Bordran. This capsule will fill with their oxygen and gasses shortly before entering their atmosphere to acclimate us. What if you get sick?" Zak paused only a moment, "I'll tell you what. I'm going to leave you on here, sick or not, and finish my job. I have responsibilities. If I am late, I risk missing my rendezvous with the Horus and could spend the next Ren in this star system."
Aimee rolled her eyes at the relentless berating. "Oh please. Like the Horus would just take off without you."
"The Horus is constantly moving, Aimee. It doesn't pull up in a parking space and put the brakes on. It is up to me to execute my mission and get back to the ship all within the cycle it takes to orbit this system."
"Even if you were delayed I think you're being a little dramatic when you say you'd be stuck here forever. One, this little terra angel of yours looks like it moves pretty fast. You could catch up." Aimee leaned forward so that she could see past the frame of the chair and study the planet looming outside. My God, she was going to land on a planet other than Earth! She still couldn't believe it. "And two, if you couldn't catch up to them, don't they go in this big circle around the universe? Won't they be back here again?"
"A Ren," Zak repeated. "It's a long time."
"Five years," she countered. "You all tell me that five years is nothing up here."
"It's a lot when you're alone."
On that somber declaration, Aimee fell silent. She listened to Zak's movement. The swoosh of his arm. The tap of his fingers on the panels before him. The brief communications with the Horus, some of which she could not understand.
She leaned forward again as far as the restrictive seat would allow and watched their approach to Bordran. It was like looking throu
gh lime saran wrap. You couldn't quite focus on the planet itself...or perhaps she was just missing her glasses.
"Are you alright, Aimee?"
The deep-voiced sincerity startled her.
"Yes," she whispered.
"You've never been to another planet, have you?" he asked quietly.
"No." Her head shook. "But I've been to Disney World."
"Disney World? Is that near either of the places I visited?"
"No. You would have remembered it if you had been there." She was getting melancholy. She tried changing the subject. "What is this Bordran like? You've been here before?"
Zak executed a maneuver with the craft that made her stomach tumble, but soon the ship righted itself. "Sorry about that. It's never easy breaching their atmosphere. I have to get the TA in the proper trajectory. Bordran's formula of gasses will start to filter into the cabin soon. Let me know if you feel funny, I'll see if I can tweak it any."
"What happened to, I'll leave you on here whether you're sick or not?" she countered.
"It will be easier if you are not sick. And no, I have not been on this planet, but I've heard that it is—fertile."
"Fertile?"
"Green. Wet."
"Well, dammit, I can see for myself that it's green."
Zak chuckled behind her.
"Green, as in very lush flora," he explained. "Wet, as in very marshy. It is why Bordran is an important stop on our circuit. We missed it on the last Ren. This could be a rich resource for us."
"Why can't you just beam something up from the Horus like you did with me?"
"It would make it easier, wouldn't it?" he quipped. "This atmosphere is tricky. The gasses are so thick, perhaps meant as a deterrent to lock something out, or to lock something in. Anyway, our beam gets diffused inside their clouds."
"Are you the only one who does this sort of thing?"
"No, there are several Warriors that do recon missions. After all, the entire crew of the Horus is united in one goal."
Beyond : Series Bundle (9781311505637) Page 10
