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

by Jean Kilczer

  “We might be underestimating them,” Sophia said.

  “In what way?” Joe asked her as they continued their trek south.

  “The aliens on New Lithnia, where I was born…” she smiled, “actually we human settlers were the aliens, well, they had skills and customs we never understood.”

  “Maybe so,” Joe said, “but if the Cleoceans could've gotten rid of the Cultists on their own, they wouldn't have needed to hire mercs.”

  “It's possible,” Sophia offered, “that their laws, perhaps their religious principles, don't allow them to kill. I know they're pacifists.”

  “Yeah,” Chancey agreed, “it's like the tag who's so pure of heart, he never killed an animal. But he gets his meat packaged and frozen in a super chain.”

  “We got us a Chain Saw down home,” Bat said.

  “That where you buy your hog jowls, Southern boy?” Chancey asked.

  “Best hog jowls in the Parish.” Bat chuckled. “Store was started by Andrew Chain.”

  “Good thing it wasn't started by his brother,” Chancey commented, “Rusty Chain.”

  Sophia paused and looked back at the empty landscape. Joe put a hand on her shoulder. She turned and he saw the pain in her eyes. “What if he needs us, Joe, and we're just walking away?”

  “I don't have an answer for that, Sophia. I make the best decisions I can to keep the team safe.” He stared north. “Jules wouldn't want it any other way.”

  Sophia sobbed and hugged him. “I know. Can I call you dad?”

  “Why not?” He patted her back. The mob of Cleoceans had scared away any animal life. The dust new cloud of dust rising along the road? “There's a vehicle approaching from the northwest,” Joe announced.

  “Uh oh.” Chancey cupped his hands over his eyes to cut the afternoon glare as he stared. “Ain't nothing north of us 'cept Aburra's Southern headquarters, an' maybe a few old Cleoceans who couldn't keep up with the flock.”

  “Wish we had graphs,” Bat said.

  “I'm sure they do.” Joe gestured toward a close hill. “Take cover there, behind those boulders. We'll have a look at them as they pass by.”

  “Boss,” Chancey said, “suppose I go lay down in the road, an' when they get out to see the dead Terran–”

  “What if they decide,” Joe said as they headed for the hill, “it would be more fun to run over the dead Terran?”

  “I'm quick, boss, an' tell me you wouldn't like that vehicle. Did you happen to notice the laser cannon mounted on the roof?”

  “Your call, Chancey,” Joe said. “If you want to do it, we'll cover you.”

  “The quick and the dead,” Bat remarked. “Be careful, Chance.”

  The military truck, with an open bed for passengers, moved closer, following the road as it curved around the hill.

  “If it looks like they're not going to swerve to miss you,” Joe told Chancey, “we'll burn their left front tires. That should send them tacking like a sailboat, and let's hope they carry some spare tires for us to replace.”

  “Why,” Sophia asked, “would a Cultist truck be driving toward Sarge and Ara Saun's camps?”

  “I'll bet my stash it's reconnaissance.” Chancey slid down the flank of the hill. “Wish me luck!” he called back.

  “Luck,” they said as he trotted to the road and laid down with his drawn weapon hidden under his chest.

  Bat raised up on elbows and peered over the crest of the hill. “They're Cultists all right, Joe. Blue armbands. This could be the vanguard of a big push. Wonder where the lord gets his creds to import such expensive machinery like that?”

  Joe watched the truck follow the curve of the road around the hill. “He probably milks his followers to contribute to his holy crusade. Or else.”

  “Or else?” Sophia asked.

  “Or else. There's a vast territory of Cleoceans, Druids, and Slatties in and around the continent. Their homes and their lives are at stake if Aburra wins this war. It will be a bloodbath.” He glanced from Sophia to Bat. “Jules and Huff were right. In the end, we can't let that happen.”

  “But Joe,” Sophia said, “you wanted to go home, back to Earth!”

  “Maybe some of Jules' sense of honor has rubbed off on me.” He studied the approaching truck. “Now I don't think I could sleep nights if we abandoned the Rebels and Ara Saun on the eve of a big battle.”

  “Dammit, Joe,” Sophia said, “One idealist is enough!”

  “Set your weapons on hot,” Joe said evenly.

  Sophia squinted from behind a boulder as the truck drew closer, skirting the hill. “Six. I think there's a human between them in the back. Joe?” She left the rest of her thought unsaid.

  Six, Joe thought. One more than needed to stop Jules from influencing them. Was Jules the reason for this trip south? Had Aburra coerced him into using his tel powers to spy on Big Sarge and Ara Saun? Aburra would need insurance that Jules would cooperate. Huff's life could well be that insurance.

  Sophia's features were drawn, her brows knitted.

  “If it's him,” Joe said, “and there's a firefight, we'll do our best to keep him out of it.”

  Sophia's voice shuddered in her throat, “I'm so scared for him.”

  “Me too.” Joe's jaw was set as the truck approached Chancey. He couldn't permit Jules, with his powerful tel abilities, to spy on Sarge or Ara Saun. It could swing the tide of battle for a Cultist victory. And that, he couldn't allow. “Me too, kid.” Can't alert Sarge or Ara Saun without comlinks, he thought but didn't say.

  The truck stopped beside Chancey.

  “One of the Slatties in the back…,” Sophia started, “I don't think he's wearing an armband.” She searched Joe's face. “Do you think it's Huff?”

  “I wouldn't be surprised.”

  “You're not telling me everything you're thinking!”

  Joe scratched his bristly chin. “I think Jules and Huff are in that truck.”

  “You think Aburra is using Jules to spy on Big Sarge?”

  “I would, if I were him.”

  “Then we've got to rescue Jules and Huff.”

  “That's the plan, kid.”

  The truck idled beside Chancey, who remained still.

  “And if we can't stop them by blowing out the tires?” Sophia drew in a breath. “You'll fire on them, won't you?”

  Joe checked his stingler again for hot. “We'll fire at the tires. First.”

  Chapter Thirty One

  “Here we go,” I whispered as five guards came to our cell. Five. The magic number.

  A gray-coated guard with knotted fur under his chin unlocked the door and swung it open. I put on my jacket, scarf, woolen hat, and gloves. “Huff, do what they tell you too. Don't fight them, OK, buddy?”

  He nodded.

  “He's coming, too,” the guard said as I walked to the door.

  I paused. “Why do you want him?”

  “I don't ask questions, scud. I do what I'm ordered to do. You could both learn a lesson from that.” He waved a forepaw at Huff. “Come on. We're all going for a ride.”

  “Nice day for it,” I said as I walked past him.

  He pushed my shoulder. “Shut up and walk, heathen.”

  “He is walking,” Huff said. “He does not need to be pushed to walk, even though he balances on his hind legs and never rests on four.”

  “He'll be resting on four,” a short guard told Huff in a squeaky voice, “if you don't shut up and walk, traitor.”

  * * *

  The truck Huff and I rode in with five Cultists followed a dirt road south. Fields of white gave way to frozen ground and patches of lingering snow. I had a pretty good idea why the Cultists had brought Huff and me along on this ride. If I didn't give them the information they wanted on Big Sarge or Ara Saun's military plans, or if I lied and they detected it, it could well mean Huff's life, and probably mine too.

  The four Cultists in the back of the open truck with us wore stinglers. The short one, who sat across from me, read from
a religious scroll that looked like papyrus. “Praise be to our great Lord Aburra, the Prophet, who has shown us the righteous path to the Ten Gods.”

  “Praise Lord Aburra the Prophet,” the others chanted and dipped their heads.

  Guns and Bibles, I thought with a mental smirk.

  Huff opened his mouth to say something.

  “Huff.” I shook my head and he remained silent.

  As the driver followed the road around a hill, I saw what looked like a human prone in the dirt. I stood up for a better view. Oh my God! Oh, Great Mind, it was Chancey.

  “Sit down,” the short Cultist squeaked, got up and pushed me back into the seat.

  I purposely didn't look at the hill. Sophia, Joe, and Bat had to be hiding there, probably behind some boulders. Leave it to Chancey to be the decoy. Huff stared at me, as though waiting to hear our next move. “That's a Terran,” I told the Cultists. “Maybe he's hurt and needs help.”

  “You're going to need help if you don't shut up,” the gray-coated Cultist growled.

  The driver glanced back through the open rear window. “Do you Terrans generally walk out into the wastelands to die alone?”

  “Not generally,” I said. “He could be hurt.”

  “Wait a minute, Drut,” Squeaky told the driver, “this could be a trick. Keep going.” He unholstered his stingler.

  I tensed.

  “If he isn't already dead,” Squeaky said, “I'll send him to his demon Lord of the Pit.”

  I leaped across the bed and slammed the gun from his paw. “Huff! Get them. Chancey!” I called.

  Slatties are a lot stronger than humans, but not as quick. Chancey was on his feet and firing. I heard a Slattie scream and saw him roll over the side of the truck.

  Hot beams flashed from behind boulders on the hill. Huff threw himself at a Cultist who was raising his gun to fire at me. I ducked, but Huff bit down on his neck and his shot went wild. Blood spurted and Huff pushed the Cultist over the side of the truck.

  I kicked Squeaky in the groin. Sheath or not, that had to hurt.

  Drut hit power. It threw me off balance. The fourth Slattie, gray-coat, aimed at me from the floor. I swung Squeaky in front of me as he fired. Squeaky jerked and howled plaintively as the beam sliced through his left shoulder. His arm dangled. I threw him off the truck as a beam flashed from the boulders, shot past me so close I felt the heat, and burned gray-coat across his neck. He slid to the floor and died silently.

  Drut slammed on the brakes and we were thrown to the bed. He tried to aim his stingler through the rear window.

  I was close to the cab. I dragged myself to the window, holding onto seats as he swerved again. Huff fell over the side.

  “Huff…dammit.” I grabbed Drut's wrist and hung onto a seat as he hit power and swerved. I was thrown across the bed. He aimed at me for a clear shot. I gasped in a breath. He could have fired, but he hesitated.

  A flash from behind a boulder, low, must've hit a front tire. The truck careened out of control. Drut dropped his weapon and made a grab for the wheel with both hands. Too late. The truck lifted to its right side, and hung there for a second. I leaped out and rolled as it went past me and crashed, plowing a furrow of dirt, its wheels spinning in the air.

  I got to my feet, breathing hard, waiting for the pain to reach my brain. But only my right ribs sent messages that this was not conducive to healing.

  Drut had been thrown clear, but he had lost his stingler.

  I saw Chancey administer the Coup de Grâce to Squeaky and gray-coat. The other two Cultists lay unmoving. I had to turn away.

  Drut staggered to his feet and raised his forepaws. A bare, fluid-filled patch above his belly pouch seeped a yellow liquid. Infection, I thought.

  “Mercy, please!” He begged as Chancey and Huff trotted up. “I was only following orders. I think I was mislead.”

  “You OK, Huff?” I asked.

  He nodded. “All well in the liver.”

  Sophia, Joe, and Bat came down the hill. “No, Chance.” I lifted an arm as he aimed at Drut. “He's no longer a combatant.”

  Drut fell to all fours and lowered his head. Chancey stared at him with a coldness in his eyes that startled me.

  “Don't,” I whispered.

  He raised his gun to point at the sky. “Tell your brethren that the Terran demons done spared your worthless hide. Now gimme your comlink, scud.”

  Drut got to his hind legs, reached into his pouch, and withdrew a comlink.

  “Bring it here,” I told him.

  He came forward and dropped it near my feet. “Thank you, brother. May I join your cause?”

  “Are you serious?” I asked him.

  “I am. You are not the demon butchers Lord Aburra told us you were.” He bowed his head. “You have shown me mercy and honor.”

  I glanced at Chancey and shook my head. “I'll tell you what…brother,” I told Drut, “you help us right the truck, then you hike back to your lord's headquarters and tell your brethren what you just told me. While you're at it, tell them to lay down their arms and go back to fishing.”

  “Jules!” Sophia ran up to me and threw her arms around my neck. “Oh, Jules!”

  “Soph.” I hugged her and she sobbed against my chest. I kissed her forehead. “My Soph.”

  Joe came up grinning and hugged us both.

  “Ahhh,” Chancey hooked his thumbs in his pants and turned to Bat, who stood beside Huff with his medkit in one hand, “gimme a kiss, Southern boy.”

  Huff went up on hind legs and licked Chancey's face.

  “Damn!” Chancey wiped his cheek on a sleeve. “That evens things up for the ride to the beach, fur ball!”

  The team was together, with comlinks and extra stinglers from the Cultists, and an armed vehicle. A day that had begun darkly ended better than any of us could have hoped for. We sent Drut on his way and headed for Big Sarge's headquarters. Joe contacted Sarge on a comlink and filled him in on Aburra's plans for a sweep of the narrow continent.

  We would touch bases with Big Sarge, hand over the military truck, get a ride to Sun Sprite, our hovair, and fly it to our orbiting ship, Star Sojourner. And then the trip to Earth.

  Or so we thought. But the gods are fickle, and they chuckle at our “best laid plans.”

  * * *

  “Who goes there?” a merc guard called from his forward post among trees.

  It was night. Moonlight showed a lush terrain this far south, with Shingle trees, wild bushes, and long-bladed ground cover.

  “Joe Hatch,” Joe called, “and my team.”

  “Joseph!” Apache John Crossbow trotted into the open, clutching a cocked crossbow. I knew the “arrow” was really a miniaturized missile that would explode on impact. “Good to see your white asses.” Apache pumped Joe's hand.

  “Hey, man, who you calling a white ass?” Chancey said.

  “That you, Chancey Jones?” Apache asked. “I didn't see your black ass in the dark.”

  “That's better, injun.” Chancey laughed.

  “Point that thing somewhere else,” I said as Apache swung his crossbow to hug Chancey.

  “What's the matter, white eyes,” Apache asked me, “you don't trust an injun with a missile?”

  “Only when it's pointed at me and mine,” I told him.

  “Let's get these tags over to the big dick,” Apache told Chancey, then he saw Sophia. “Oh, sorry, ma'am, I forgot there was a woman on Joe's team.”

  “No apology necessary.” Sophia squeezed my hand. “I'm used to the way macho men talk.”

  Sarge was in his tent, conferring with his officers. If ever there was a scruffy-looking militia, with long hair, leathers, tattoos, these tags were it. But I knew from experience that behind the images they liked to project were highly-trained soldiers who were all proven in the forge of battle.

  “That's it, men,”Sarge told his captains inside the tent.

  As they filed out and went past us, some nodded, others stared openly at Sophia. I
didn't like the feeling of jealousy that rose in me.

  “Good to see you tags again,” Sarge said as we entered, “and all in one piece.”

  He folded his hands behind his head. “So cupcake, you still do that thing you do with your mind?”

  “When there's a reason to,” I said.

  “I'd like to hire your brain,” Sarge told me. “You still have those leathers and stick-on tattoos I bought you back on New Lithnia?” He winked. “Sexy as hell.”

  “Get to the point,” Joe told Sarge. “What do you want him for?”

  Sarge unfolded his hands and studied a map on his desk. “How about relaying enemy positions, troop strength, tactical plans. Anything that gives us an edge, boss man.”

  Joe turned to me. “I won't tell you what to do, kid. It's your decision to make.”

  Sophia lowered her head. Bat mumbled something about chaining his medkit to his wrist.

  Chancey walked up and stood at my side. “I'm in, and I work for meals. The Alliance pays my way as long as I'm signed on.”

  “The price is right,” Sarge said. “You got it, tag.”

  “Thanks, Chance,” I told him.

  Huff looked from me to Sarge. “My liver is grateful for the help of humans, especially my Terran cub. I will also go into it for meals. Do you have lard with eyeballs?” He sat beside me and leaned against my hip. I almost fell, but I steadied myself and stroked his shoulder.

  Sarge sucked a tooth, but his expression never changed. “I'll have Sunny the cook look in the larder.”

  * * *

  Sunny's dinner was right out of a five-star restaurant, with a three-course feast.

  “These mercs might spend their days fighting bad guys on primitive planets,” I said as the team sat around the table and ate, “but at night they eat like kings.”

  “Or convicts about to be executed,” Chancey said.

  “Either way.” I speared another crispy coconut cauliflower ball.

  “I think I'm going to burst.” Bat cut off another piece of mock bacon-wrapped marinated filet mignon.

  “That might be the one that does it,” Joe warned him, and sliced into another piece of peach melba cream pie.