Halcyon Nights (Star Sojourner Book 2)

by Kilczer, Jean

  The ambulance shuddered as a beam burned the tip of its right wing.

  “The crotefuckers are shooting at me,” I mumbled. “At an ambulance!”

  Engage the thrusters, I thought. You've done this a thousand times! I lifted the craft and threw the thrusters into horizontal. I banked, flew low over the wall and settled to the ground close to a gate.

  A RECOIL manta was on its side in the blackroots. I taxied there. The craft was empty. Some of the roots were still sucking nourishment from a still form that lay beneath a tail wing.

  “Christ and Vishnu.” Maybe if I had gotten here sooner…

  Strange flowers with red veins lined branches that surrounded the body. I think this ground tree needed protein to reproduce. A flexible purple twig wiggled up from a branch, delicately rubbed itself against a flower's stamens and tapped the pollen it gathered there onto the pistil of another flower. Sex among the plants. The twig moved on to the next flower. My God. Was there intelligence behind the blackroot? It wasn't nectar the twig was after, the way an Earth bee would, to make honey. This twig was purposely pollinating the flowers without visible reward. Perhaps the aroma of the flowers guided it. I shook my head. Its goal was continuance.

  Your work, Spirit?

  No answer. He wasn't into small talk. But I could spend my life studying this one species of flora…or fauna? Except that right now there was a battle raging.

  Out of the night sky, the second Laurel ambulance descended, circled the compound and landed near me. I opened the window of my craft as Paul emerged with four paramedics. “Is Lisa all right?” he called.

  “She's OK. She's with a friend.”

  He nodded. “Thanks for bringing back the ambulance.”

  “Thanks for letting me use it.”

  He threw me a look. “We're going to need it now.”

  I taxied past the blackroot, shut down the motor, and jumped out. Fire trucks emerged from the north and attacked the blaze outside the compound with chemical suppressants. The black root system slithered as though disturbed by the fire, the caustic odor of the chemical, the explosions of missiles and the heat of laser beams.

  They weren't the only ones. The gate flew open and a short, stocky RECOIL soldier emerged with a wounded comrade over his shoulder.

  “Over here!” Doc Hawkes shouted.

  The soldier trotted to Hawkes' ambulance. Hawkes and the paramedics helped get the wounded man inside and closed the door.

  The soldier checked his flash rifle as he trotted back toward the gate.

  I ran after him. “What's happening? Is RECOIL winning?”

  He paused. He was round-faced, with a shock of sandy hair over his forehead. He couldn't have been as young as he looked. His friend's blood had soaked the shoulder of his uniform. “We've got them on the run, and there's no place for the scuks to run. Unless they prefer blackroot to standing trial for war crimes.”

  “What about the czar? Did you get him?”

  He sucked his tooth. “Got away.”

  “Oh, shit! How? You just said there's no place – “

  “We discovered a tunnel from their bomb shelter. Goes under the blackroot.” He waved toward the field. “Looks like the czar, his mistress, and an officer made it to a hidden manta. All except his mistress.”

  “Red-haired woman in a robe?”

  “The same. Seems there was no room for her in the manta.”

  “She probably knows a lot about the czar's operations,” I told him. “Maybe even where he's headed.”

  The young soldier slung the rifle over his dry shoulder. “That's probably why they threw her into the blackroots. We found shreds of her robe and bones.”

  “They threw her in?”

  “I don't think she walked there, tag.”

  We weren't just dealing with an egomaniac, but a brutal murderer without a conscience.

  “Gotta go,” the soldier said and checked his rifle. “Mopping up operations.”

  “Yeah. I hope your friend makes it.”

  'He's not my friend.” He opened the gate. “He's my brother.”

  Spirit! Do you know where the czar is headed?

  I will know when he arrives at his destination. I think it will be what Terrans call a mine.

  The sound of missiles and the blaze of beam rifles finally died down. The crackle of the wildfire grew faint as firefighters swooped over it in hovairs and suffocated the flames around the compound with chemicals.

  I walked through the gate. The dead and dying were all around me. It reminded me of my wilderness animal clinic on Syl' Tyrria after Sye Kor had spread his plague to different life forms.

  I spent a the better part of the night helping wherever I could, mostly first aid, of RECOIL soldiers and the czar's wounded warriors. When the insanity of battle is over, we humans seem to recall that we are our brothers and sisters' keepers.

  Hawkes and the paramedics were joined by three more doctors, and nurses, from the medical center. They treated those who could be saved first, and after administering pain killers, left the dying for last.

  A minister landed from Laurel to comfort the wounded and administer last rites. Among the moans and cries, his voice was a quiet drone of compassion.

  Halfway through the night my work was finished. I'd done what I could. I felt weary as a spent day as I slumped down beneath a tree and rested my arms on raised knees. I let my head drop forward and rolled it to loosen the tight neck muscles. A sudden sadness overwhelmed me and I felt tears slide down my face. How cheap was human life that we could kill each other over the possession of things material?

  I ask that myself of your race, Spirit sent.

  I shook my head. I don't have any answers, Spirit. Maybe it's our chimpanzee heritage. The desire for alpha position and power.

  Perhaps your race should evolve past such desires. Only Great Mind has real power.

  Perhaps we should.

  I laid down with a heavy sigh, cradled my head in my arm, curled up and closed my eyes. Perhaps one day we will, Spirit. But not soon.

  I awoke when the sun edged above Wolf Ridge's ramparts, and realized that someone had covered me with a blanket while I slept.

  I brushed myself off and walked to a food manta, compliments of the volunteer owners of a Laurel cafe called Bart and Bertha's Big Buns. The teenage girl behind the counter had spiked golden hair, and blue eyes that could only come out of a contact lens case. She leaned on the counter to show off her budding breasts. “What can I do you for, handsome?”

  I smiled. “Breakfast?”

  “How about dessert? I've got cherry flambé.” She batted her eyes at me.

  I sighed and felt my cheeks burn. Maybe it was something in the air. They grew up fast on Halcyon. But no matter the planet, jail bait was still jail bait. ”Uh,” I began, “how about scrambled eggs and – “

  ”I'll take his order!” A portly older woman came to the service window and nudged aside the teenager with a hip. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel as she peered at me. “What'll it be, buster?”

  “Scrambled eggs, and four slices of – “

  “Hey, Bertha!” a male voice called from inside the manta. “Your buns are burning!”

  “Dammit, Bart!” She flung the dishtowel on the counter and strode into the back. “You were supposed to watch my buns.”

  The teenager slid me a look.

  I bit my lip. “So,” I said, “can I get an order of scrambled eggs and toast? And a cup of coffee?”

  “You can get whatever you want,” she purred and continued to lean on the counter.

  Bertha returned with a plate of hot burned buns surrounded by pats of melting butter, and a bottle of berrybru. “Here's your breakfast, buster.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  I sat under the leafy branches of an avacodo tree and peeled off the blackened edges of the dry buns. I ate two, then dozed off again. Something kicked my boot. It was Rache.

  “We have to talk.”

  I motioned
to the ground. “Mi casa es su casa.”

  He chose to stand. “The czar got away.”

  “Yeah, I heard. What happened?” I asked innocently.

  His jaw tightened. “Did that creature you talk to get in touch?”

  “It did.”

  “Did it tell you the czar's destination?”

  “It won't know that until the czar lands. It's telepathic, not precognitive.”

  “When it contacts you, I want to know the czar's location.”

  “You'll be the second to know.”

  He turned on his heel and strode back to his officers. “Smartass,” I heard him exclaim.

  I smirked. You get your kicks where you can.

  The ravager has landed his craft, Spirit sent.

  I'm on my way!

  I got up, snapped off four ripe avacodos for lunch and stuffed them into my jacket pockets as I walked casually toward an unguarded war manta.

  As I suspected, he is in the branch of a main artery of my being. One of my hearts, as a Terran would define it. I want him destroyed! He is attempting to locate my source for the blood that will allow him to control the minds of your Interstel. That would not be good for my people.

  Nor mine.

  The ravager's location is not to be disclosed.

  Should I collapse the mine, Spirit…the artery, on top of them with a missile, providing I can steal a military manta?

  Would you collapse an artery of your own heart?

  Then what can you do to help me stop him?

  It depends on the evolving situation that you create.

  It always does! And in the end, I find myself on my own.

  Would you rather that I destroy all the Terrans and be rid of this scourge once and for all?

  Dammit, Spirit, we've had this discussion before. It never solves anything. Just stay with me.

  Mantas were arriving and departing, still taking the wounded to Laurel, the czar prisoners to wherever, and delivering more food and medical supplies. It wasn't difficult to board the unguarded war manta. If I come out of this alive, I sent to Spirit, I'm going to end up in a Laurel prison as a recitative manta thief!

  He didn't offer an answer.

  I hadn't expected one.

  I sidled through the manta's open door and kept my head below the windows as I made my way to the pilot's seat. It was strange, though, that the RECOIL soldiers, and Rache himself, all seemed to be looking in other directions. I'm no fool. Not always. They wanted me to steal the war manta. They wanted to follow me. All they had to do was ask.

  I lifted the craft into the blazing blue sky and dipped my wings to let them know I was the lead player in their game.

  Lisa, I sent. How are you, baby?

  I'm riding Ginger, Daddy. Willa let me ride her! She's holding the reins.

  I set the craft for full speed. The czar already had a lead on me. That's great, Squiggles.

  Daddy!

  Yeah, Lis'?

  Tikkie came back.

  He did? Is he OK?

  He's dirty. We're going to give him a bath.

  OK, baby. Sounds good.

  He ate the chickens.

  What?

  Tikkie got inside where the chickens live. We found feathers.

  Uh oh. What did Willa say?

  She said Oh, well. You can't blame Tikkie. He was hungry.

  Ah, the poor hens.

  We can't have eggs for breakfast anymore

  No, I guess not.

  The war manta was equipped with light weapons and missiles. I strapped on a holster with a stingler around my waist, and clipped on a small light. I doubted that Spirit's artery was well lit.

  Daddy?

  Yeah, Squiggles?

  I love you.

  My chest suddenly swelled. I love you too, Lisa, with all my heart. I'll stay in touch, baby. I broke the link to allow Spirit to guide me toward the czar's destination. His mental tug indicated it was northwest of the compound.

  The early sun blazed down on an endless desert of ribbed red sand dunes and stark shadows that stretched to the horizons. This must be what Terrans on Halcyon called The Barrens. East of me lay a great expanse of ocean painted with morning strokes of sapphire and emerald and an occasional brush stroke of white frothing waves. I could see the curve of the planet from this height.

  Surf's up.

  I thought of my carefree teenage years before the hornet cub crash with Ginny. We'd been shuffled from one foster home to another, until the rootless life was the norm and we adapted to it. Perhaps that was one reason I stayed on Syl' Tyrria for five years and didn't think it was so unusual to leave Althea and Lisa behind on Earth.

  Was I capable of settling down in one place anymore, or would I grow restless no matter where I was, and want to move on? I thought of Willa. Her large hazel eyes, her light brown glossy hair. Her boyish haircut and walk. She knew her place. It was on the ranch, surrounded by her animals. There was plenty of research for an astrobiologist to do on Halcyon, to say nothing of the Kubraens and Spirit. Blackroot alone could keep me busy studying its roots, so to speak, for years. Or running from them.

  My route took me over Laurel. It was a small community with a pond in the center of town. I had no time for sightseeing but I noticed wide streets. A community shopping center was surrounded by a broad residential area, with horses in fields.

  I soared over a factory, and ranches that produced cloned meat. Beyond, orchards, plantations, and farmlands, were enclosed by a high wall. Not to keep out the local flora and fauna, I surmised, but to prevent Earth imports from invading the indigenous life forms. A good idea, that.

  The residents must have wondered who was this maniac who tore over their town, rattling store windows with the high keen of his engine.

  The spaceport was a sprawling terminal with private crafts and intergalactic shuttles to the starships that waited at orbiting space-docking stations. Only the czar and his crystal miners marred this ideal Terran community on an ideal planet. Spirit had done a great job of directing the evolution of his world into a balanced ecosystem. And most humans honored the native life forms. There were worse places to live than on Halcyon.

  Spirit. Am I still on course?

  Continue as you are.

  Spirit sounded distressed. I decided not to ask why, but I found that I wanted to help rid the planet of its Terran ravagers. It would also close down Lost Vegas and its dons, which wasn't a bad idea.

  Northwest now, he sent.

  I'm heading northwest.

  Then north by northwest.

  I corrected my heading and realized I was on a course set for Spirit Mountain. The location of the source- mine? God, that was where the Kubraens had established their new village! Had the czar landed among them? His ship was armed.

  I tried to mindlink with Briertrush, but I drew a breath as chaotic links of many Kubraen minds came crashing through. I felt their terror, their pain from searing burns. I got the distinct sense that they were fleeing. I threw up mental shields so I could concentrate.

  I knew that one war manta was capable of destroying an entire native village. But why would the czar take the time to do that? He wanted the powerful pink crystals, not revenge on the natives. Unless the village were an obstacle in his path to the mine.

  I probed for the czar's thoughts and came up empty. He and his officer must already be inside the mine, and whatever encased Spirit's being might act as a tel shield. It didn't matter. I knew the czar's plan well enough. Strip the mine, grab as many pink crystals as his ship could carry, and head off-world. Damn him! Spirit would not allow that kind of desecration. Spirit? I sent. Please, don't do anything rash. He'd told me back in April's room that if he locked onto the czar's nervous system and unleased his incredible tel power, the electrical impulses would kill every Terran on Halcyon the way lightning destroys the human brain and heart. I'm doing my best to stop him!

  If your technology cannot destroy him, then I will. Know that he will never leave my world w
ith my stolen blood.

  I know.

  Below, Spirit's river glistened like a quicksilver snake that meandered through green foliage in the afternoon sun.

  Spirit?

  Follow it north. The ravager cuts into my veins!

  I'm sorry. I felt his anguish. I'm coming for him. I checked the craft's missiles. Armed and ready. My stingler was fully charged. Stay calm, Jules, I told myself as my hands shook on the wheel. Too much rests with you.

  Time, Spirit sent, as you short-lived humans reckon it, is running out, and it may be the survival of your race on Tres Cruash against the continuance of my own.

  I know!

  The new Kubraen village lay below. Abandoned.

  A few of the fibrin huts were burned to the ground and still smoldering. Their religious altar had been blown apart, probably by a missile. It was enough to send Spirit's people fleeing into the wooded mountain. And out of the czar's way.

  The river narrowed and sank into a hollow cave entrance. I banked the manta and slowed. Is that it? Is that the entrance?

  Yes. It is the source from which I nourish my people.

  OK, but are the czar and his officer in there?

  They are, like a knife twisting within my heart.

  I saw the tracks where the czar had landed in melted snow. They looped where he'd turned his craft around and backed it through the cave entrance. But even a compact personal manta would be a tight fit in that three-meter-wide opening. The craft was probably armed with everything he could stuff into it. Still, most personal air vehicles have about a thousand-pound payload, and crystals weigh.

  I landed in mud and taxied under a grove of spiky trees with the scent of honey. I left the craft and had to part tight prickly branches to work my way out of the grove, but it hid the manta well.

  The sickly sweet odor of blood wafted out from the cave entrance. Silver liquid laced with pink poured over my boots and soaked my feet as I sloshed through the thick stream that flowed from the cave. My legs tingled as I unholstered my stingler and headed into the dark, narrow tunnel.

  But this was no tunnel. Walls of transparent tissue furrowed with blue veins glistened in my small light. A throbbing sound, almost below the range of the human ear, pulsed through humid air and vibrated ruby droplets off the layers of wall tissue. My light played on abrasions at about the height of a manta's stubby wings. Pink droplets seeped from the wounds. I touched an abrasion and the wall quivered beneath my hand. The czar had not thread lightly into Spirit's being.