Mourner

by Irene Radford

  “Hey, stop! You aren’t allowed down there,” he yelled.

  The rearmost Maril turned his birdlike head, cocking it sideways. His beak clacked once in defiance—or derision, Jake couldn’t tell which—then faced round again. He held up a palm-sized round device and cocked his arm back in a throwing pose as he increased his speed.

  “Damn it!” He chased after the trio at the same time he lifted his wrist to activate the link. “Security to core, wings 25-27. ASAP. Bomb squad and universal translator required. STAT!”

  The Maril stopped in front of the blast door covering the lift and its controls, whistling and chirping as they poked at the panel, trying to override the hazmat locks.

  “Get away from there,” Jake ordered. He dove toward the control box.

  A Maril arm, made strong beyond human normal from endless hours of flight, whipped out and caught Jake in the neck.

  He choked, trying to force air around a paralyzed larynx as he flew backward.

  A loud thud. He’d landed against the bulkhead across the tracks. Fighting enclosing blackness, he lifted his link once more. “Pammy, get to 15A and keep Sissy from leaving her ship.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I don’t want your life, Maril. I want the knowledge in your brain,” Pamela said through gritted teeth. She pressed harder with her heel against the warrior’s throat. The spike dented his skin over his voice box.

  He gasped and choked.

  She released the pressure but kept her foot in place to renew her interrogation technique if he refused.

  “I know nothing. I am simple battle person.” His high-pitched voice came through the portable translation device. It never worked quite as well as the original embedded in Jake’s desk.

  “Battle person implies warrior.”

  The Maril nodded as well as he could lying flat on the deck, hands cuffed behind him, and Pamela’s foot on his throat.

  “I think you are more. Maril warriors do not think, they obey. You, my boy, were observing, watching, spying. That requires thinking.”

  “Watch only. Report. Not think. Not act on what see.”

  “So what did you see?”

  “The enemy. Your general makes friends with the desecrators of the goddess.”

  “Now that is interesting. You revere the symbol on the tram. The Dragons fear it.”

  “Yes.” His body relaxed a little against her restraints. But his eyes remained wary, flicking back and forth, still observing and assessing.

  “Why?”

  “Long before memory. Do not know. Dragons remove image of goddess wherever they find.”

  “Are the Dragons your enemy because they remove her image or do they remove the image because they are your enemy?” Pamela checked the chrono function on her link. Damn, she needed to get to 15A asap. Having Jake in Medbay didn’t help. For once she didn’t relish the thought of his absence so she could take over the station.

  “Do not know,” the Maril admitted. “Kill me now. I die with honor.”

  “Like I said before, I do not want your life, honor or no.” She looked over her shoulder toward the armed guards wearing CSS blue with their backs turned toward her so they couldn’t report on how she got her information.

  “Take him back to his boss,” she ordered, removing her foot from his throat. “You can remove the cuffs. He has nowhere to run.”

  “Kill me now. Please!” The warrior rolled and struggled to his knees. His head hung until his beak touched his chest. He continued to clack it long after the translator ceased interpreting his noises as language.

  “Maybe I will kill you.”

  He looked up, hope gleaming in his eyes.

  “Later. I want the ambassador to know that you failed.”

  She stalked off, finally ready to deal with Laudae Sissy.

  “Where is he?” Sissy demanded as she bullied her way through a phalanx of medical workers in their lab coats and scrubs.

  “Laudae, please wait for Dr. Halliday,” said a young man wearing a dark gray FCC military uniform under his stark white and crisply pressed lab coat. But he also possessed a yellow star caste mark of a spacer, outlined by a green triangle of a professional—as was proper for any physician no matter which cast he was born into—and a third layer of a purple circle around the whole. He’d been lauded, qualified and trusted to treat the Temple Caste as well.

  She remembered him now, John da Samuel du FCC Spacer Battalion. A man of great curiosity and dedication that stretched far beyond his caste prejudice. At some point in the past few months he’d traded his Spacer caste dark blue uniform for one of Jake’s newly issued gray, reserved for those of no allegiance to any government or planet. Refugees who signed on to serve the space station and Jake.

  Sissy drew herself up as tall and authoritative, looking down her nose at the man even though he topped her by half a head in height. “You will let me pass. Now!”

  “When are you going to learn some patience, Laudae?” Dr. Mariah Halliday said, matching Sissy in tone and attitude. She emerged from a long corridor that led to patient rooms in the Medbay.

  “Dr. Halliday, I demand to see General Jake. I have been told he is injured direly. I must see him now.” Sissy tried to keep the desperation out of her voice. How could she? She had to see Jake one more time before he died. Hold his hand. Give him whatever peace Harmony offered.

  But how would she go on without him? He’d been her anchor, her protector, her mentor for so long she didn’t know how to function without his quiet words and strong presence. Even when separated by weeks of hyperspace travel, she always felt him near her, looked to his memory for advice.

  “Don’t go getting you knickers in a twist, Laudae. He’s not about to die, even if he is reluctant to wake up. Frankly I think he’s succumbed to exhaustion and is using the excuse of a concussion to catch up on his sleep.” Doc Halliday shook her head and flashed a wry grin.

  “We both know that is entirely unlike the Jake we know and love,” Sissy replied. “My Jake would be fighting his condition tooth and nail because his duty called him back.”

  “Duty be damned. It’s you he’s missing. He’s been running himself into the deck ever since you left, keeping busy just so he won’t think about you day and night. You can see him, he’s stable but unconscious. But I warn you, if you disturb him, do more than sit and hold his hand, I’ll throw you onto your ship and give orders to send you back to Harmony with or without a window to the jump point. It’s what he wants—to keep you out of danger as long as the Dragons and their toxic atmosphere are aboard.”

  Even though she paused for breath, Sissy didn’t quite know what to say.

  “Which reminds me, how long since you had the charcoal filter in your lungs changed? Your breathing sounds a bit ragged.”

  “You changed it right after we returned from Sanctuary.”

  “And you’ve been breathing pollen and dust laden atmosphere since then.”

  “Only for two days.”

  Doc Halliday nodded abruptly. “You should be okay for a while longer. Let me know if anything changes. Now go kiss Jake’s brow and sit quietly by his side. I have real patients to tend to.” Doc Halliday hustled back down the corridor.

  Sissy looked up at Dr. John. “Real patients? Is someone in need of pastoral care?”

  “Not yet, but soon, I think. Doc Halliday has worked some miracles before. I don’t think she’ll manage this time.” He hung his head and turned to leave.

  “What do I need to know?”

  “Only that we’ve a slew of Dragon slaves who are all suffering severely from having lived in a mercury-tainted atmosphere all their lives and become severely inbred for generations.”

  “Dragons?” She dredged through her memory for a reference and came up empty. But then, her education had been limited by her Worker caste upbringing. Jake had taught her to read, and read with understanding. Jake answered her questions and had taught her to search books and data bases when he didn’t know th
e answers.

  She’d seen a parade of . . . of monstrous lizards that might be called dragons, in hyperspace. She shuddered.

  “These Dragons style themselves the bankers of the galaxy. Think they own everyone and everything. This station included.” Dr. John stalked off, leaving Sissy to find her own way to Jake’s room.

  Harmony knew Sissy didn’t like hospitals of any kind. She’d spent a fair amount of time in them herself, both here and back home on Harmony. Her family didn’t believe in hospitals. More often than not if a Worker sought serious medical help, they were shunted off to the side to wait while the physicians were obligated to care for higher castes first.

  Hospitals were places for people to die alone when they had no one left to care for them.

  Dr. Mariah Halliday had made the Medbay a place for healing and comfort.

  That didn’t keep Sissy from wincing at the odors of fear and pain with only a little masking by disinfectant and other chemicals.

  A monitor on the wall showed her the far end of the curving corridor two levels up in lighter gravity, people bustling to and fro with frantic pace and worried faces. An X of yellow caution tape hung from ceiling to deck. Civilians should know to stay away. Medicos had no trouble moving around or through it, a necessary annoyance to them.

  She sought the monitor that listed patients and their condition. Not hard to find GJD in Mariah’s big, bold handwriting. GJD: General Jeremiah Devlin, Sissy translated. Below the fat red letters, much smaller, in a spidery black scrawl made by a different hand, she found arcane words and abbreviations. Instead of wasting time trying to puzzle them out, she followed the map to Jake’s room, the fifteenth on her right, about as far away from the lift and lobby as he could get. Jake stretched out on a narrow bed, face nearly as white as the sheets, bandages wrapping his head, and tubes running in and out of him, while monitors and gadgets beeped and displayed shifting graphs. She couldn’t interpret the numbers, so she relied on her own senses to listen to him breathe and feel the coolness of his skin.

  “Oh, Jake, what have they done to you this time?” She sighed and pulled up one of the rolling metal stools, jacking up the seat to put her level with him. Her feet swung back and forth, too nervous to rest on the struts.

  “Damned Maril knocked me flat when I tried to keep them from opening the wing with the most poisonous atmosphere I’ve ever known,” he replied without opening his eyes. “They think their curiosity trumps safety and they have the right to explore every nook and cranny onboard. Keep your doors locked at all times. Ask for security to guard the lifts into your wing.” The last came out a mere whisper that faded to inaudible lip movements.

  “You’re awake!” she cried.

  He shushed her with a flip of his hand. “Not so loud. Hurts.” A flutter of fingers toward his head and the wince around his eyes told her more than the machines.

  “Can they give you something for the pain?” she asked, leaning over closer to him and caressing his cheek.

  “You just did.” He captured her hand and turned to kiss her fingers. Another grimace kept his head in place.

  “The poisonous atmosphere, the Dragons. You really did send the text message. That’s why you sent Pammy to stop me from boarding,” she whispered. “I only gave her time to say you were injured, and I came straight here.”

  “I heard you stomped on Pammy’s foot to make her get out of your way?”

  “No. I had Mary and Martha push and crowd her into a corner, then run in two different directions. I ran up the stairs to the next level, faster than the lift could move. Apparently she didn’t have time to assemble her thugs to forcibly put me back aboard.”

  “Classic diversion. You’re learning politics.” Jake chuckled, then winced and closed his eyes.

  Sissy held his hand. “If I was so good at politics, I’d have stayed on Harmony and settled things with the Council. Instead I ran away again.”

  The graphs on the wall changed as Jake’s jaw tightened in pain, but not enough to bring a medical person to check on him.

  “Sometimes turning your back on the situation sends a clearer message than staying and fighting a fruitless battle. I presume you let Harmony know why you left.” The pain became more evident in the deepening lines around his mouth that now stretched down his neck and into his shoulders. One of the monitors began to beep.

  A nurse appeared at the open doorway.

  “I should go, let you rest.” She shifted her feet to the deck. “It’s nearly midnight station time.”

  “No. Stay. Please.” He held onto her hand, squeezing it more firmly. Not with his usual bone-crushing strength.

  “I haven’t even unpacked yet. Nor checked on the Harmony delegation. I came back to find out what happened to Laud Gregor’s body.”

  “It will all wait a few minutes. I missed you terribly.” He sighed. Then he opened one eye a slit and looked into the corner. “Laud Gregor isn’t going anywhere.”

  Sissy followed his glance into the corner. Nothing visible.

  “Sleep, my love.” She leaned over and brushed her lips across his brow. He relaxed. The lines of worry and pain around his eyes and mouth eased. In moments he breathed deeply and regularly. The monitor ceased beeping and the nurse retreated, no longer necessary.

  Sissy slipped away to her duties. Jake knew she left her heart with him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Help me!

  Martha shook her head to clear it of the alien plea. No. It couldn’t be. There couldn’t be another telepath. She was the one who needed help in understanding and controlling her newfound talent.

  “Shouldn’t we get back to the ship and help the little ones offload?” Mary asked Martha from behind a pile of crates in the loading bay.

  Admiral Marella had stomped her booted foot in disgust and left this level seven minutes ago. A lucky seven, she wouldn’t be back.

  Martha shrugged and moved out of their hiding place, cautiously. Something called to her. No. Someone called directly to her.

  Help!

  “Martha! We have duties.” Mary tugged on her arm.

  “We have a duty to help those in need,” Martha replied.

  “The little ones need us.”

  “Then go to them. There is someone else calling me. Most urgently.” Martha pushed her friend’s arm away and strode determinedly toward the lift into lighter gravity, and thus to the tram in the weightless hub. Maybe up there, without the distractions of the bustle around the docking bay, she could concentrate on the “who” and the “where.”

  Pain slashed through all of her joints. She crumpled to the deck, barely able to hold her head up, cradling her arms, but needing to massage her neck free of the bone-grinding stabs.

  Help me.

  Mary rushed to her side, wrapping her in a full hug as she sank to her knees and tried to take Martha’s weight onto her own slighter and shorter frame.

  “He’s in my mind,” Martha gasped.

  Mary dropped her arms as if touching Martha suddenly burned her hands. “Do you mean . . . that thing we have to hide?” she whispered.

  Martha nodded, unable to speak around the mind-numbing pain.

  And then it was gone. Shut down. As if the flood of communication blotted out every other sound and background murmurings of other people invading her thoughts. Then when it departed so abruptly, she was left numb, inside and out.

  The sudden silence felt deafening.

  “Let me help you up,” Mary said, urging Martha to her feet with gentle tugs and quiet murmurings.

  “You need to go to the little ones, it’s past their bedtime. Unpacking will wait until morning. Leave me. I’ll find the person in desperate straits.” Slowly the buzz in the back of her head resumed. At first, she detected only quiet thoughts about food available no matter what hour, how heavy this bag was, how sweat trickled down someone’s back.

  Then a colder voice, plotting . . .

  “Admiral Marella is behind the lift, waiting for us,�
� Martha whispered.

  “Okay. What’s she going to do to us?”

  “Petty revenge for keeping her from putting Laudae Sissy back aboard the ship. I think you should go back and help the little ones. Surround yourself with witnesses.”

  “Maybe if we don’t, Sharan will step up and take responsibility,” Mary said. “We need to find Laudae Sissy and make sure she’s all right.”

  “You find Laudae Sissy and make sure she sleeps,” Martha said decisively. “I need to seek out the one in pain. He spoke to me directly. He needs me.” With that she strode purposefully toward the lift.

  Admiral Marella stepped out from her shadowy concealment and stood in Martha’s path. “You aren’t going anywhere, missy. Not until you tell me what’s going on with Laud Gregor’s body.”

  I’m coming.

  “Who?” Ianus awoke from the sound of his own voice croaking a response. He didn’t recognize the mental “voice” behind the words. He knew each and every one of the twenty-four humans, including children, aboard Diamond. He remembered the voices of others of his kind making long distance transmissions from aboard other Dragon ships.

  But this one…? During his brief interview with General Devlin and the human physician, they had led him to believe that telepaths among humans were rare to the point they did not believe them to exist.

  This voice was definitely human, and distinctly feminine.

  His monitors began to beep and chime in a hopeful conversation.

  The puzzle distracted him from the normal joint pain that had suddenly turned excruciating. He moaned, audibly as well as telepathically. Immediately his shipmates all sent him sympathy. Pain had become a way of life for them as well.

  Then that one voice chimed in, stronger than all the others.

  Delayed. Coming soon. Not so much those exact words, more an image of a barrier and sideways movement to get around it.