The Stars Like Ice (The Star Sojourner Series Book 8)

by Jean Kilczer

  “You sure know how to pick your friends,” Chancey told me.

  “Well,” I said, “I picked you.”

  “One of your luckier days,” he remarked.

  I sipped brew to give myself time to think.

  “Suppose you put down the cup,” Joe said, “and answer the question. Do you intend to stay and help the Rebellion with a stingler and a prayer?”

  “Huff is part of the Rebellion,” I said. “What if he opts to stay and fight?”

  “Jesus and Mary!” Joe slammed down his cup. We all jumped. “Here we go again.”

  Chancey suddenly found a hangnail to work at. Bat scratched under his military cap and saw something interesting in the rain that ran down a window. Sophia drew fingers through her hair and found a stubborn knot to comb out.

  Joe stared at me with his mouth set.

  “Well,” I said, and looked at Sophia for help. She lowered her gaze and worked harder at the knot.

  “Well what?” Joe leaned forward.

  “Well, suppose I try to contact Huff first, and if I succeed…” I shrugged, “we'll take it from there. You know, these religious nutcases are really dangerous. They're killers.”

  “All the more reason…” Joe said too softly.

  “Hey,” Bat exclaimed, “what's that?” He pointed to a window and stood up. “Is that a boat?”

  We went to the window and wiped fog from the glass.

  A fifty-foot inflatable drifted silently, without lights, across our bow.

  * * *

  After hailing the boat and getting no response, we piled into the skiff, drove it to the boat, and climbed aboard. Chancey threw the boat's anchor overboard.

  “Hello!” Bat called into the silence.

  The deck was strewn with empty crates and long plastic boxes. Joe opened a box. It was also empty, but the foam interior was molded to the shape of a beam rifle. I opened another box. It showed the shape of two hand stinglers.

  “I'd say the cult nuts are well armed,” I told Joe as we pushed aside crates and boxes to get to a broad platform on the port side. Dried hamburgers, spoiled buns, and rolled tissue papers were stuck in corners of the platform. Above it a wide window with a sliding door was framed with amateur paintings of hamburgers, French fries, ice cream cones, and chocolate candy bars. No prices were shown. I guess the rate was whatever traffic could bear.

  “Yummies for the natives,” Chancey commented.

  “In exchange for animal hides,” Sophia added, “and bone Druid statues. I'd say the cult is well-armed.”

  “Hey, tags,” Bat called from the cabin. “Come in here.”

  Sophia gasped as we filed inside. A heavy-set dark-haired human lay dead in a corner.

  “Well armed,” Chancey said, “and infidels get a quick ticket to what you call geth, Superstar, an' I call just plain dead.”

  “Not a quick ticket, Chance.” I nodded toward the body. “He's probably luckier than his brother from the tel send I got on the tag's death.”

  “Armed and ruthless.” Sophia shivered. I put my arm around her.

  “How long do you figure he's been dead?” Joe asked Bat.

  Bat stood up from checking the body and shook his head. “Poor bastard. I'd say about a day, give or take.”

  “I'd say we find Huff,” Sophia said, “and make a crow's fly for Star Sojourner and Earth.”

  “Crow's fly?” I asked her.

  “In a hurry,” Joe said.

  Sophia took my arm. “Jules, we're no match for what's going on between the two Slattie factions.”

  “Or the dire Druids,” Bat added. “They could've killed you, Bubba,” he told me, “anytime they wanted to.”

  “Or overturn our boat,” Joe said, “if they decide we're not cooperating.”

  I looked around. “What if Huff won't go?”

  “If Huff called us here to help in his war against the cult,” Joe said, “instead of a rescue mission, he was dead wrong in asking for our help.” He gestured toward the body. “Let's give this poor bastard a burial at sea and get back to our boat.”

  “How are we going to do that?” Bat asked. “We don't even have a coffin.”

  “You think he's going to mind,” Joe said, “if we tie a lead weight around his neck and dump him overboard?”

  I probed for the man's kwaii. It was already gone from his body. “He won't care, Joe, but I gave the Druids my word that I would help if I could.”

  Chancey slapped my shoulder. “Superstar here is gonna bring peace and prosperity to the whole galaxy, even if he gets us all killed doing it!”

  “I'm going on deck,” I said. “I want some time alone to try to get in touch with Huff.”

  “Good luck, hon,” Sophia told me.

  “Yeah.” I walked on deck and into frigid arctic air. Huff, I sent out to the frozen wasteland of the continent. Huff!

  Chapter Four

  The family of Druids plowed through water thick with ice and slush, and dived.

  Slattie hunters in six inflatable skiffs, blue armbands announcing that they were Cultists, cut their motors and waited silently, their beam weapons charged and ready.

  “How long can they stay under?” a young Slattie whispered to the captain of his skiff.

  “About thirty minutes.”

  The sea was calm, with only a cold breeze to ruffle the Slatties' white fur, undisturbed to her depths by the ancient struggle of predator and prey that beat at her abyssal heart.

  A school of small yellow fish darted through the surface and were scooped up by waiting sea birds with sharp, narrow beaks.

  “There!” The young Slattie stood to point as more fish were driven to leap into waiting beaks.

  The first Druid breached and spouted water through her blowhole. Skiff motors whirred to life as Druids broke the surface around her. Beam rifles snapped blue flashes as the great males, with giant hooked tusks, crashed through the surface.

  A stricken male screamed and spouted blood, then rolled, his white belly showing, and floated motionless. Another male was diving when a laser sweep burned off most of his tail fins. Blood smeared the water as he thrashed out his life.

  The family of Druids dived, missing two of its older members now, determined not to lose more as they bored into the deep, dark water of the open sea. Silently they mourned, not daring to use precious breath in the misery of their loss.

  A speck on the horizon brought the Slatties to alert as they hooked lines into the two dead Druids.

  “Is that a ship?” the young Slattie asked his captain.

  The captain lifted graphoculars. “She's flying the heathen red flag.” He lowered the graphs and stared at the approaching ship. “Better to haul our catch to shore and kill the infidels from there if they attack.”

  Six skiffs dragged the two dead Druids to the shore. By the time they set anchors deep into the sand and ran to take cover behind dunes, the Rebel ship was close.

  “Let them come,” the captain said. “We'll slay them as they launch their boats, or dive into the water, if they've a mind to attack.”

  Chapter Five

  Huff? I sent again and got a response like a distant echo off glaciers.

  My Terran cub…

  Where are you?

  A boat. A battle.

  Oh no! I lowered my mental shields for the strongest possible probe and felt pressure against my left temple. Huff's send came from the west, where land and sea met and blended at the horizon. Dark storm clouds raked the ocean. Huff, I'm coming.

  No, my liver is in joy to know you are close. But stay away. Danger here.

  "I'm coming, my friend.

  No!

  I cut the link and lifted my shields for protection against random thoughts from sentients and lower lifeforms.

  “Jules?” Sophia came to my side. “Am I interrupting?”

  I put my arm around her and kissed her cheek. “You knew I was finished, didn't you?”

  She smiled. “Are you afraid I'm getting to k
now you too well?”

  “I'm an open book for you to read, Soph. I don't hide anything…well, almost anything, from you.” I gazed west.

  “Then tell me why you keep looking in that direction?”

  “It's Huff. He's in a battle with the Cult Slatties.”

  “Oh my God. He's not a fighter. He's too gentle.”

  I thought of the time Huff killed the BEM All Mother, a ferocious creature many times his size, with his teeth and claws. “I've seen another side of him. But I'm still worried.”

  “Jules, please don't tell me you intend to go there and help him.”

  He would help me, I thought. "Let's go inside and see if they need us for the dead tag's sea burial.

  She pulled away from me. “And then?”

  “Looks like a storm's brewing.” I nodded west. “We'll bring the boats back to the safe harbor where we were anchored,” I lied. “This boat's got charged batteries. Chancey checked them.”

  * * *

  I touched Huff's mind again as we buried the man at sea, which is to say, we gave the fishes an unexpected dinner. Bat, who was the only Christian on the team, said some words over him. I mentally commended the man's kwaii to Great Mind, who had probably already embraced him.

  Sophia told the others about Huff's send and his involvement in a battle. Dammit! I shouldn't have told her. She wanted them to be aware that I might go to Huff.

  Predictably, Joe asked me, “What are your intentions?”

  Here we go, I thought. “I'd like to help him,” I said, “but Huff's just a latent telepath, and I don't even know where he is.” I looked around at their skeptical faces and shrugged. “I have to wait for a stronger send to locate him. We'd better head back to the safe harbor where we were anchored.” I gestured west, at black, boiling storm clouds that rose above the horizon. “Something wicked this way comes.” I smiled. No one returned it. “I'll drive this boat, and meet up with you tags in the harbor in case we get separated.”

  Joe gave me one of his more suspicious looks. “I'll come with you, in case you forget the way.”

  “I don't think that's likely,” I said.

  “I'll stay onboard too,” Sophia said.

  “Good idea,” Joe told her.

  “Yeah.” Chancey smirked. “Having the love of his life along keeps Superstar from making suicidal leaps.”

  “I'd better stay, too,” Bat said. “In case one of you finds a way into trouble.”

  “So who the hell's going to drive our boat back?” Joe asked.

  “C'mon, boss,” Chancey took his arm, “I think we covered all bases. Let's you an' me take the skiff back to our boat.”

  I stared at boiling clouds; not the only danger coming from the west. My buddy was in more peril than from a sea storm, and I'd find a way to get to him if I had to beat a path through Hell to do it. “OK,” I said casually, “sounds like a plan.”

  * * *

  I was at the wheel, following Joe and Chancey, who were driving our boat, when the sky turned dark as dusk, the wind kicked up, and the surface rose into seething white caps that slammed our hull and sent spray to swab the decks.

  Every breath I took was sprinkled with sea salt. Cold moisture burned my nostrils as clouds dropped shrouds of rain to the west and swept toward us. I tied the wheel and launched the skiff. Dammit. I had already waited too long.

  Before I went over the side, I knocked on the cabin window. Sophia and Bat were drinking earthbrew at the table. They both leaped up when I motioned toward the wheel and jumped overboard into the skiff.

  By the time they were on deck, I had untied the skiff's line and started the motor.

  By the time they screamed for me to come back, I had turned the skiff west and pulled up my hood against the icy water sloshing over low pontoons.

  Either Joe or Chancey blew the horn and turned our boat in my direction.

  “Sorry, tags,” I whispered, and tucked down behind the low windshield. “I don't like it either, but I don't have a choice.”

  Then I was into the storm. Wind tore the skin off waves and lightning lashed the back of the sea. Drumrolls of thunder played the storm. I held the wheel with one hand and tried to open the floor locker where survival suits were stored, with heat filaments, batteries, flotation devices and a backpack with necessities and a built-in life vest that could be inflated with CO2 cartridges. There were small artificial gill units in the locker, with regulator settings and masks. All the comforts of home for the storm-tossed at sea. If I could only reach them.

  Behind me, the two following boats were bucking in waves that were short and hard to ride.

  Dammit, turn back! I thought. But they were no more inclined to desert me, than I was to abandon Huff. I pictured Joe's stern expression, the set of his jaw, hiding some furious thoughts. If I lived through this battle…man, was I in for it.

  * * *

  I was leading my team, and especially Sophia, into the heart of a conflict. This was not what I'd anticipated. Perhaps I should have. I could turn back and keep them all safe, or I could help a friend who would face Hell's wrath for me. Words I'd recited to Sophia more than once came back: I could not love thee dear so much, I thought, “loved I not honor more,” I whispered.

  She and Bat had made their decision to follow me, as had Joe and Chancey. And while I was sick with fear at the possibility of losing my beloved Sophia, I knew I had to do the right thing. Great Mind, keep her safe, I sent into the void.

  And you as well, you might add, Spirit sent.

  Will you stay and help me if I need it?

  Depends on the sort of help you ask for, Terran.

  The storm pounded my small boat with a deluge of icy rain. Wind tried to turn her broadside into the waves, which would've flipped the inflatable. I'd hit the control button that unrolled the canopy overhead, and held the bow into growing waves that pointed the skiff skyward, then plunged her into troughs. The horizons darkened to an arena hemmed by veils of rain, and brought on night while day still reigned in calmer climes.

  Blue laser flashes lit the dark day to the west as I approached the battle out of mist.

  Huff had said he was in a boat. Three of them materialized behind curtains of sleet that were morphing into snow, all anchored close to shore. Two of them flew blue checkered flags. The Cultists, I thought, hiding behind Kresthaven's national flag. The third flew a red flag, the color of challenge and death to Slatties. Huff's Rebel forces, announcing their opposition to Lord Aburra's followers.

  I approached the boats carefully, keeping them between me and the beach. They all appeared to be deserted. The battle was raging behind shoreline dunes. Two dead Druids, one with his tail hanging off, lay half in water on the beach. I thought of the Druids I'd met on the ice floe who asked for our help, and shook my head. “Cultist slimetrolls!” I whispered.

  Our two boats remained offshore, half hidden by mist and falling snow. Joe was being cautious and I was glad.

  I plowed a route parallel to the beach, away from the battle, and drove the skiff onto the shore.

  The hard-packed wet sand told me it was low tide. I anchored my small boat on the beach so it wouldn't float away as the tide came in. My stingler's green light showed that it was fully charged, but I still wished I had the long range of a rifle. Even more, I wished for a way to tell Huff's Rebels from the Cultists. Vegan Slatties pretty much all look alike, or so it seemed.

  Our two boats had followed me, I realized, as their vague shapes hung back in the cover of the snowstorm.

  “Stay there, Joe!” I whispered, and hoped they would not launch skiffs to join me on the beach. Joe had been right. Six of us would make little difference in a battle that probably involved a hundred or more Slatties, by the look of all the firepower that burned sand into glass. What good was I doing here, anyway?

  I stayed low, my stingler in hand, and moved closer to the main action. I ducked as I encountered a group of Slatties with their backs to me, firing over a dune. Blue armbands, the
Slattie uniform, a way to tell friend from enemy. And this was the enemy.

  I had a clear shot, and could've swept a laser beam across their bodies. I aimed, then lowered my weapon. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to fire.

  I turned and rested my back against the dune while snowflakes melted on my face. Helping Huff was one thing, but killing people who never stood a chance with their backs to me, who were conned by a devious tyrant with an agenda of absolute power, was beyond my sense of morality.

  I got up and stayed low as I circled the battle, moving behind dunes, further up the beach toward flat land, searching for Huff's Rebels. Would they be wearing red armbands? I hoped so. I had nothing red to show my side in the skirmish. I would surrender first, then explain, if they'd let me. It was a plan.

  Until the barrel of a gun was thrust into my back. I gasped and threw up my hands. “I give up. Don't shoot!”

  “Then drop the weapon.”

  “Oh, the weapon.” I dropped the stingler. “Can I turn around?”

  “I wish you would, Terran. What are you doing in the midst of this battle? Are you a war correspondent from Earth?”

  I turned. A tall, gray-coated Slattie with a red armband on one forearm, a white one on the other, and a perceptive, focused look, held a rifle to my chest.

  I drew in a shaky breath. “You're a Rebel.”

  “That's not news. Are you a journalist from Earth?”

  “No! I'm a friend of Huff's. I…I came here to help him.”

  “So far you're doing a fine job. Step back.” He motioned with his rifle.

  I did and bit my lip.

  He kept his eyes on me as he picked up my stingler.

  “Tell Huff it's Jules,” I said, “Jules Rammis. He knows me.”

  His eyes narrowed; his lips curled into a smirk. “The Terran cub.” He nodded. “Cute as a baby flapper's pink ass. Now move!”

  “OK. Which way?”

  “You see that red flag stuck in the top of the dune?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Stay low and move toward it like your life depends on it.”

  I did. As we crossed a short dune, a laser beam flashed over our heads. I dropped, and so did the Slattie. He yelled as his paw hit a rock. His rifle rolled down, toward me.