by GARY DARBY
“Well,” she replied, “then we’ll just have to hope together that you and the elder are right and that our teammates are still alive.”
She gestured toward the three Sha’anay who sat clustered against the wall, muttering angrily among themselves. “In the meantime, I guess it’s time that we sat down with them, but after all you’ve told me, I suspect it’s not going to be pleasant conversation.”
Her mouth turned down in a slight scowl. “Though I can’t half blame them for being angry. I suspect we’d be a little upset too if someone came along and kidnapped one of our political leaders.”
She stopped and a smile slowly spread across her face. “On second thought, there are quite a few politicos that I’d gladly help the Faction kidnap and good riddance, too.”
With a little shrug, she said, “Not that that’s going to happen so let’s get this over.”
Dason held out a hand to stop her. “May I offer a suggestion before you go over and talk?”
“Certainly. What’s on your mind?”
“Well, from what I understand, A’kan is like a novice elder in training and the Sha’anay hold leaders in high respect. If I were you, I’d introduce myself as Ki’mi Ruz. It’ll give you status in their eyes.”
Bianca looked at Dason with a bemused expression while saying uneasily, “I don’t know. Ki’mi Som’al was in charge of a ship of the line with hundreds of Sha’anay under her.”
She swept her hand toward her team of scouts and said, “While I wouldn’t trade my scouts for a brigade command, they don’t quite match Ki’mi Som’al’s level.”
Dason shook his head at her. “Ma’am, it doesn’t matter. Trust me; I’ve spent several days with El’am learning Sha’anay customs. You’re our leader; our ‘Ki’mi’ and that will be good enough for them.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, Ki’mi Ruz,” Dason answered in Sha’anay while giving her a little head bow.
She wrinkled her nose at him as he muttered low, “The one on the left is A’kan, next to him is Mo’sar, and the smaller one on your far right is El’am.
“Address your initial comments to A’kan. That will show that you understand status, and it puts you on an equal footing with him right from the start.”
Bianca hesitated before saying with a small sigh, “All right. Let’s you and Ki’mi Ruz go see if we can calm things down a bit.”
She gave Dason a little smile. “Or, as Sami would say, let’s go see if we can pluck some ruffled feathers.”
Bianca and Dason strode over to the Sha’anay and gave the traditional Sha’anay greeting. The three rose and returned the salutation. Dason motioned toward Bianca and said, “A’kan, Mo’sar, El’am, honored Sha’anay warriors, this is Ki’mi Ruz, a respected and noble leader of my clan.”
Bianca stepped forward and addressed A’kan. “A’kan, I greet you and your clan mates, we have much to discuss, but little time, would you hear what I have to say?”
A’kan bowed his head slightly before saying, “We will listen, Ki’mi Ruz, but I fear that your words will bring us little comfort. Before we speak, though, I would have speech with this one.”
He turned to Dason with a hard stare. “The cub has said that you bear a message from Elder Tor’al. I would hear it for myself.”
Dason shot Bianca a quick, questioning glance before she nodded for him to answer.
He straightened and said, “Elder Tor’al instructed me that when I met a Sha’anay, I was to say; I am the human Dason, friend of Tor’al of the Seventh Sword. Our blades have sung the victory song; we have fought together.
“Henceforth, until the stars grow cold, he is under my House, to him give the choicest cut of the Kor’ar meat, may his cup never be empty of the Mir’al berry, and may his pallet be the softest and closest to the clan fire.”
A’kan’s eyes grew wide, and his intake of breath was a soft whistle through clenched teeth.
“See? It is as I—” El’am began before A’kan thrust a hand upward to stop the novice warrior.
“I have ears, cub,” A’kan retorted in a sharp tone. “Though I admit, I didn’t believe until now.”
He bowed his head in a respectful fashion toward Dason and said, “I greet the human Dason, of the House of Tor’al.”
“Thank you, A’kan,” Dason returned. “And I greet you and your clansmen.”
The big Sha’anay turned to Bianca. “We will listen to what Ki’mi Ruz has to say.”
“Thank you,” Bianca quickly replied. “There is no doubt that criminals within my people have done much evil to you and to Elder Tor’al.
“I offer my humblest and sincerest apology for what has happened, though warrior to warrior I know that words alone are sometimes insufficient.
“I tell you plainly that what was done to you and the elder is not the way of our people. Those who did this are outside our laws and our customs.
“They hold no place in our society and no voice within our councils. I would ask that you give us a chance to correct this wrong.”
A’kan’s guttural response was a low growl, and his eyes seemed to bore straight through Dason and Bianca.
“There is only one way that this can be undone, and that is the speedy return of Elder Tor’al to his people, alive and unharmed. Nothing else will suffice.”
Bianca took in a deep breath before saying, “My clan mate has explained to me the great importance that Elder Tor’al has for your people, and I assure you that under the same circumstances, my people would want nothing less. I—”
A’kan’s hand made a slicing motion through the air, and he exclaimed, “No! You think that Elder Tor’al is merely a leader among our people? He is more than that.”
Dason and Bianca exchanged knowing glances as El’am had already explained much of that to Dason. Bianca nodded in understanding, “Yes, El’am has described the elder’s importance to us—
“And did he also explain that Ab’nadi,” A’kan sharply grated out, “the St’ort He’scher, the leader of all the Sha’anay, is passing. Even now, he may have made his final journey.”
Bianca and Dason shot each other a startled glance. That was a new and serious development that caught them both off guard.
A’kan continued before either Bianca or Dason could speak. “It is our way that when the St’ort He’scher passes beyond, a Great Gathering of the Houses takes place.
“It is the most solemn event in our culture. It is a time to honor and remember our dead, to rekindle ties of family and kinship, of meditation and fasting, of making new friendships and renewing old.
“It is also the time that we raise up a new leader.”
His lips curled back while saying, “If this treachery becomes known to the people at a Great Gathering, it could only lead to one thing.”
He stared at the two with frosty eyes, and his voice was like a freezing wind that chills the body. “War between us.”
Dason stood frozen in place. A’kan had just confirmed their worst fears. Humankind now confronted two potential civilization-ending threats, the Mongans, and the Sha’anay.
The first, through no fault of their own, the second, of their own making.
Bianca stood mute for several seconds before asking, “A’kan, I must ask, if Elder Tor’al is of such importance to your people, why was he on that planet, and in harm’s way, in the first place?”
A’kan snorted at her statement. “That is because you do not understand the elder and why he is so revered among our people.
“He cares not for high office or the pompous trappings of state; his is a life of one purpose, to vanquish the Mongans and rid this universe of their evil.
“The one and only thing that would stop him from that quest is the people’s unanimous declaration raising him up to be our leader.
“Until that happens, he will be the first into the fray, the first to draw sword and spill Mongan blood. That is why he was there, and why he sought out the Mongan ship to capture or dest
roy.”
His low growl was a deep rumble in his chest. “If we had had but a bit more time to learn the controls, none of this would have happened.”
Bianca interrupted to ask, “Are you referring to the Mongan ship you almost captured?”
“Yes,” A’kan replied. “We were on the bridge when attacked by the hated ones and their dogs. We were able to raise the ship, but did not have enough time to learn the navigational controls entirely.
“When it became apparent that the evil ones would overcome us, Elder Tor’al had Mo’sar dive the ship toward the planet. Better to die than to be a Mongan slave.
“They must have guessed our plan,” A’kan explained, “and ran for their escape pods. We followed and as we passed a nearby compartment, we heard some of your comrades yelling.”
“What?!” Bianca exclaimed. “There were humans on board that craft?”
“Two,” A’kan stated. “One dressed like the human Dason but larger, the other, smaller, but in appearance such as you.”
Dason drew in a breath and leaned toward Bianca to say, “I wonder if he could be talking about Alena and Colonel Romerand?”
“Could be,” she returned in a whisper. “Or maybe some other scouts.”
She turned back to A’kan. “Please, go on, tell us what happened next.”
The Sha’anay shrugged as if what he relayed next was commonplace. “We freed the two humans and made our way to an escape pod.”
His lips curled downward, similar to a human scowl. “We blasted away just before the Mongan warship hit the water. The pod managed to slow somewhat, but unfortunately, not enough, and on impact, sank to the lake’s bottom.
“I do not know how long we were under the water before your foul cousins pulled us up. They brought us and the Mongan device that the elder wrested from the ship to this unholy place.”
“The two humans that were with you,” Dason asked in a worrisome voice, “they’re not here. Do you know what happened to them? Did you ever learn their names?”
“While we lay under the water,” A’kan replied, “Elder Tor’al spoke with them in your tongue. I do not remember both of their names only that the elder referred to the smaller as the ‘human Alena’ and that she knew you.”
Dason sucked in a breath. “It is Alena! She’s alive!”
“And the other human must be her father,” Bianca responded. “Colonel Romerand.”
“And, both in the hands of the Faction,” Dason answered in a bleak tone.
Bianca turned back to the Sha’anay. “You spoke of a Mongan device,” she queried. “Can you describe it?”
Using his hands, A’kan outlined the apparatus, and when he mentioned the silvery-blue orb, Dason gave a little start.
“That sphere could be part of the teleportation device,” he said to Bianca. “It sounds just like what the Mongans carried with them on the planet.”
Bianca was quick to ask, “The ones they took from the cache site?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dason acknowledged.
A’kan interrupted to say, “You speak the same as Elder Tor’al did while we were in the Mongan craft. But, unlike you, he saw the device work while on the Mongan warship.”
In deliberate words, he described Tor’al’s experience in the Mongan craft finishing with, “He had hoped to bring it back to our scientists for study.”
His words were a bitter growl of disappointment. “It would have been a great feat to take it back to the people. Instead, your vile ones now have it in their possession.”
Bianca stood quiet, her eyes on the floor, before saying, “A’kan, it would be a great tragedy if we went to war. Do you have any idea where they might have taken the elder?”
A’kan’s response was a throaty rumble. “No.”
He gestured toward the huddled humans and in particular to the two Faction killers. “Those cur may, but it was not revealed to us.”
Bianca started to reply, but A’kan held up a hand and said, “There is one more thing Ki’mi Ruz that you must know about our ways. Among the Sha’anay, we have those who do not follow laws, of that we understand.
“For what was done to Mo’sar and myself, that can be forgiven by a just penalty, but for what was done to the elder, there is only one way that justice can be served.”
Bianca responded by asking A’kan in a cautious tone, “And what would that be?”
“Those who did this must be turned over to us and face Sha’anay justice,” he declared.
“And what exactly would Sha’anay justice entail?” Bianca asked.
A’kan reached over and drew one of El’am’s swords. “Death,” he stated and raised the sword toward the Faction mercenaries.
“Starting with them.”
Chapter Sixteen
Star date: 2443.081
The Gas Giant Moon
Stunned by the finality of the Sha’anay demands, Dason and Bianca stood mute. After a moment, Bianca shook her head in a firm manner. “A’kan, I can’t agree to that.”
“Even to avert a war between our people?” A’kan snapped. “Is their two vile lives worth the many thousands of innocents that may be lost in such a conflict?
“Think most carefully upon your words Ki’mi Ruz for I do not believe that is what your people would want.”
“No, A’kan,” Bianca solemnly avowed, “that is certainly not what my people want.”
She grew thoughtful for a moment before saying, “Please try and understand my words in this matter. First, I am a Star Scout officer, not a diplomat and my authority does not extend to turning over an Imperium citizen to you.
“And secondly, our justice requires that those two and the others with them get a fair trial.”
A’kan’s eyes grew hard at her reply but before he could respond in anger, Bianca said, “Let me ask you this, A’kan. Do you speak for the Korha’pec?”
“Of course not!” A’kan spat out. “I do not sit on the grand council.”
“Nor do I speak for our elders,” Bianca pointed out, “and without consulting with them first, I simply cannot do as you ask. It would go against our fundamental laws.”
She drew in a deep breath and then sighed just as deeply. “Though I admit that whereas my personal feelings are that I’d like nothing better than to turn them over to you, I simply cannot.”
A’kan and Mo’sar’s growls intensified and Dason, who had been following the conversation intently, spied A’kan’s hand tightening on the sword.
Afraid that the Sha’anay might do something rash, Dason stepped forward and said, “A’kan, wait. I have an idea. We might be able to use this to our advantage in finding Tor’al.”
A’kan hesitated before lowering his sword slightly. “How so?” he demanded.
“Will you give me a few minutes to confer with Ki’mi Ruz?” Dason asked quickly, “It would be better if I spoke with her first.”
A’kan drew in a breath through flared nostrils before returning his sword to El’am’s scabbard. “I will wait,” he answered, “but not forever.”
Dason drew Bianca away from the Sha’anay. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to blindside you.”
“It’s okay,” she muttered. “At this point I’m willing to listen to any idea to get us out of this mess.”
While Dason explained his notion, Bianca stared at him with deepening furrowed brows. She cocked her head in the Faction’s direction. “It might work on the one but do you really think that that thug will break?
“Faction assassins are a pretty tough lot and not just physically, you know.”
“All we need is one, right?” Dason replied in low tones.
“Maybe,” Bianca replied. “But you’re assuming that both of them has the information we need. What if it’s only the goon and not the other that knows where they took Tor’al? What then?”
Her eyes flicked over at the two sullen Gadions who sat apart from the other captives. “On top of that, from the way that one’s acting around him, I suspect that our
mutual nemesis may be a leader of some kind in the Faction.
“That’ll make him doubly hard to crack. I’ve heard that they go through a deep regimen of neuro-hypnosis not to reveal what they know.”
“I understand that, ma’am, and I agree that he’s probably not going to divulge anything. It’s the other one that we want to work on if A’kan goes along with it.”
Bianca chewed on her lip, her expression saying she wasn’t convinced of Dason’s idea. “I don’t know. I’m real leery of putting any Sha’anay in proximity to the Faction right now. No telling what they might do considering their state of mind.”
“I know it’s risky,” Dason answered. “But unless that Faction cruiser sitting outside provides us with information on where the first one went, those two Faction might be our only chance of finding out.”
“Speaking of,” Bianca replied and jutted her chin out. “Hanjeh and Brant just walked in; let’s see what they can tell us.” The two had been working in the Faction’s deep-space craft, and now Bianca waved them over.
“What have you found out?” she asked Brant.
He met her look and said, “Which do you want first, the not so good news, the bad news, or the it’s-even-worse-than-I-thought news?”
Bianca pursed her lips and asked, “By any chance is there a fourth choice in there that you forget to mention, like I’ve got really excellent news?”
When Brant didn’t respond, Bianca let out a disconsolate sigh and said, “I didn’t think so. Go ahead, let me hear it.”
“First,” Brant began, “the ship wasn’t preprogrammed, so there’s nothing to tell us where the other craft went.
“Second, we still can’t communicate with anyone. I’ve got Lia working on it, but the big boy overhead is playing havoc with the comms. We can wait and see if it clears up or boost out and call home to ask for help.”
“And the really awful news?” Bianca pressed.
“No med supplies whatsoever,” Brant answered. “Not even a BandAid.”
“That is bad,” Bianca responded. “Doctor Stinneli has three civilians that are critical, thanks to those Faction creeps, and he’s afraid he’s going to lose them if we don’t get them to a suitable medical facility soon.”
