Nothing happened.
"Now!"
"Complying."
But certainly not very efficiently. Had Gornt's last moments been the sight of poisonous haze? "Verify that the fire is out, then clear the storage room."
She stayed as quiet as possible and listened for any sound, which could indicate movement.
"Countermeasures were successful. Evacuating air, now."
"Is there an ambush in the closet?" Even as she asked the question, Raine berated herself for asking the computer to do the impossible and predict the unknown. Particularly a computer who could barely clean air.
"Command does not compute."
"Nambaba, scan the closet and report your findings."
"Diminished life signs detected."
"And the android?"
"Command does not compute."
"Nambaba, what do you detect in the closet?"
"All sensors are off line." A glance at the blank monitor confirmed the bad news. What if the explosion and fire were a deception? Raine closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart. If it had been a trap, they would have attacked when she threw in the grenade.
Now or never. Raine squared her shoulders and tightened her fingers against the trigger. She took a step forward and whipped the door open.
Something stirred. She flattened herself against the floor, blaster ready. It took a moment to realize that wisps of smoke and chemical cloud being sucked up by the air handlers caused the movement.
She waited.
Even after everything had finally been sucked clear, she continued to wait. The hum of the vac-system shut off. She counted to one hundred, then heard the soft purr of the returning air. She moved her head slowly left, right, up and down, but could only see the android's humped back.
The face-mask provided much needed air, but made it impossible to see decent detail. She whipped it off then peered into every corner.
Nothing.
She inhaled the stench of smoke and gagged on its putrid taste. Her stomach rolled in protest at the mingled scents of burned flesh and charred electronics; tears filled her eyes and despite the absence of smoke, everything seemed to swim in mist.
Still, nothing happened and though the locker’s outer wall glowed an odd orange-red, the expected attack didn't come. Cautiously, she switched on the storage locker's light.
The Shadow Warrior lay on his back, still as death. The android, which appeared to have self-destructed at it's mid-point, sprawled across his chest, in an oddly affectionate position. Tingles rushed over her skin. They reminded Raine of a couple her brother, Preston, had told her about. They had been in a love-match between a noblewoman and a sanitation slave, the relationship had ended in a murder-suicide.
How could an enemy as unemotional as a Guerreterran Shadow Warrior possibly program feelings into a machine?
They couldn’t; this was probably part of the trap.
"I've got you covered. Get up slowly."
Neither moved. Were they pretending or not? The rank smell of death and fried circuits made her suspect that her newfound riches might have caused the explosion.
Raine kept the blaster leveled at the warrior's head. When no attack came, she relaxed enough to hear his thin, rasping breathing over her own hammering heart. How had he survived the explosion and fire? But thank The Spirit he had, in case the other ship was staying back because they didn't want to harm him. The labored tone of his breathing sounded like he could expire at any moment.
Reaching over, from her crouch position, she rolled the robot aside. The warrior's gapping flight-suit revealed what had once been a well-muscled chest, but now looked like minced fish entrails. Raine gagged. "Oh, murder!" It didn’t matter if he was her enemy or not; no one should suffer such injuries.
"Command does not compute," Nambaba said.
"Continue on a safe course homeward." Despite all her other problems, getting the mooncalf safely back to the nursery moon remained her priority.
The expensive circuitry in the android’s mid-section had fused into a jumbled lump. What if the watcher valued the android and not the warrior? Raine covered her face and moaned.
The warrior made a faint sound. Raine looked at him. Despite his unfashionably long dark hair and battered body, he appeared to be the embodiment of manhood. How could someone, who did such cruel things, have such a kind mouth? She leaned toward him, as if drawn by some unseen power.
She lost her balance and threw her weight backward, dropping her blaster in the process. Raine froze, waiting for an attack, but none came. Carefully, she moved back to the warrior, this time, she focused on the shredded flesh revealed by the open pressure suit. She moved the sturdy fabric aside. A tiny rosy arc spurted to his ashen face. Bad sign. She winced as she leaned closer. The torn filaments from the android's mid-section had simultaneously ripped and cauterized most of the damage to his belly when it had fallen across him.
Amazing that he lived.
With each labored breath, more red blood trickled over the exposed flesh to pool in an ever-increasing puddle over his belly button.
Red blood!
She and Preston were some of the cursed few that had blood the color of Vilecom, while Shay's was the purple of royalty. Of course, Gornt and Dalf's blood oozed the honorable white of slaves.
How could a Shadow Warrior have the same color blood as she?
Raine stared at expanding red pool, shocked to discover she and the warrior shared the same color life force and wondered how to minimize the mess to her ship once the blood filled his navel.
Navel!
He had a navel?
That could only mean a mother had given birth to him.
She blinked at the shocking thought.
Somewhere out there in the stars, another mother waited for her warrior-son to return. Would the unknown woman miss her son, as she had Dalf, when he'd stowed away with Gornt? Would she have been better off not knowing what happened to Dalf or would she want him back no matter what?
Tears blurred Raine's already misty sight. She had wanted Dalf, no matter what, even when she barely recognized him because of his injuries. It hadn't mattered that she hadn't given birth to him, she had chosen him as her son. And the bond was strong, almost as strong as a biological mother's would be.
She gulped. Did that mean this warrior’s mother would want him, as well? The air inside the storage locker smelled of burned flesh; the stench of the most awful day of her life, when she had identified Gornt and Dalf's bodies.
Raine took the warrior’s hand and pressed it against the puncture-wound. Immediately, the injury stopped spurting, but without proper medical supplies and skill, he would surely die. She chewed her lower lip. The warrior’s partner could be spying on her at this very moment, waiting to see what she would do. “If you’re watching and want him saved, help me.”
She stared at the warrior’s mangled belly. Tears blurred her sight. The air had smelled of death and burned flesh the day she'd been ordered to appear at Defense Command Headquarters and identify Gornt and Dalf. Until then, she hadn't realized Dalf had stowed away on her partner's warship. If it hadn't been for Gornt's tattoo, she would never have believed the mangled mess they showed her used to be her beloved friend.
She stared at the seeping red blood, remembering her elation when she discovered Dalf still lived… and moments later her horror when the attendants demanded her signature on the euthanasia form. Even deaf and blind, she'd wanted her chosen son kept alive. No matter all the hardships she’d endured by hiding him, she would never believe planetary law should be allowed to dictate the definition of ‘useful citizen’ and have the right to exterminate all the elderly and infirm. Particularly when the definition changed with the color of the life force.
In her heart, she knew that this warrior’s mother would want him saved, too. But what could she do? Saving the barbarian’s life wasn’t as simple as saving Dalf from the reclamation tanks. This situation required medical knowledge and
skill, which meant that she needed her brother’s help. Again. But would he help her save the enemy or throw him into the reclamation tanks?
The blood loss seemed as if it was slowing, but did that mean he was healing or running out of his life force?
Raine swallowed and looked away from the warrior. The android's empty eye-socket stared back at her. The parallel to poor deaf, blind Dalf nearly brought her to her knees. She closed her eyes and took a ragged breath. It wasn't easy to look at the monstrosity her son had become and it wasn't easy to love the demented shell he had turned into. But she did love him.
And out there, somewhere, there might be another mother that felt the same way about this warrior. She had to try and find a way to keep the warrior alive until she could get him real help.
She touched the golden dragon emblem on her wave-band neckpiece. Could she keep him alive until she reached Preston?
Raine squinted at the stenciled name on the silver flight-suit. Colonel Larwin Atano. Her gaze narrowed on the warrior's chiseled face. "I won't let you die." Not yet. Not until she knew if he had a mother or partner waiting for him. “I hope whoever is out there spying on us knows that.” Was the woman his mother or wife?
Raine’s jaw tightened. Her life had been ruined by this warrior’s mercenary race. But to act as they had would make her as bad as a common killer and she was better than that. Grabbing his limp hand, she pulled off the glove, then rolled it and pressed it against the flow. Her solution seemed to work better than the finger, but she needed to find a way to continue the pressure.
Surveying the shelves revealed a depleted supply of rations, a spare WWT-98B transistor, and a remembrance cube. Raine didn't need to read the cube's inscription to know it contained the last hologram of the three of them swimming in the Wavelet Sea during the idyllic week before Gornt had been ordered to Latawba, where The Zar’s brother’s world was being attacked by bloodthirsty Guerreterran warriors. Raine swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and tears trickled down her cheeks. She yanked her gaze away from the translucent azure cube, but her attention centered on the warrior’s lips. What was wrong with her? Jaws clamped against the confusing emotions, she turned her head away from the handsome warrior and glared at the supplies. At the back of the third shelf, she spotted an old pharmaceutical kit, which had only been singed in the blast. Snatching it, she popped open the lid and grabbed a thick, wide roll of elastic, which must have been sitting in there for the better part of a half century. Surprisingly, the stuff’s adhesive still grabbed. Turning back to the warrior, she realized she'd have to pick him up in order to bind the compress in place.
"Turgamatory!" This situation kept getting worse and worse.
Settling back on her heals Raine studied the pool beneath the wadded glove. Maybe it would be better to let the butcher die, but it simply wasn’t something she could do. "Colonel Atano, mother or not, before you die, you're going to understand how your greedy spirit-forsaken planet ruined my life. All you have to do is look into Dalf's face." Raine's lips compressed into a thin line. “Assuming your partner doesn’t shoot us out of space before I can get you back to Kalamar, of course.”
"Command does not compute," Nambaba said.
Raine glared at the hallway speaker, which was just outside the bent door. "Nambaba, is there any sign of that Guerreterre ship?"
"I have some indistinct energy readings, but no additional broadcasts or visual sightings."
That probably meant a cloaked warship was following her, and everyone knew that one of them carried enough armament to destroy an entire planet, let alone one little old space ship. Not good. "Continue scanning."
Raine bound the warrior's chest. "Can the other ship read your diminished life signs?” she whispered to him. “Will they attack if you die?"
The idea terrified her almost as much as the day she'd saved Dalf, then realized she’d have to nurse him back to some form of health.
Chapter 7
Raine blinked perspiration from her eyes, then glanced nervously at the expanding red-hotspot on the hull. The mooncalf continued to huddle close, as if seeking Nambaba’s protection.
Reclamation Units were designed for being close to the incredibly hot creatures; shepherd ships were not.
Spirit, don’t let me come this far, then take everything away at the last moment. "How soon before Vilecom comes into view?" When the ship did not respond, she wrote the command onto the monitor, but again, the computer ignored her question.
After what seemed like forever, Ishdoo, the frigid moon, came into sight. Would the mooncalf continue to remain docile, as they neared it? She scanned for Vilecom, but the molten moon remained hidden, so Raine stayed on course until Ishdoo’s harsh frozen contours stood out in stark relief against the blackness of space.
Hoping it was not too late for her unwanted passenger, Raine eased Nambaba around Ishdoo's rugged ridges. Predictably, the differences between Kalamar’s two moons made her shake her head. Vilecom radiated heat and Ishdoo emanated cold. Vilecom’s surface teemed with playful dragons and Ishdoo lay barren. Vilecom brought prosperity, while Ishdoo was simply something to be avoided.
Beyond the harsh white crags, the azure arc of Kalamar's stratosphere came into view. Raine’s heart warmed at the welcome site. Had her home waters ever looked so good?
"Proximity alert," Nambaba said, as if reading her thoughts. "Eighty-three cesiums."
Raine looked at the reddening wall of her control hub. “How soon before the hull liquifies?” The mooncalf was alarmingly close to Nambaba’s hull.
“I have no comparative charts.”
“That figures.” Raine hoped 83 cesiums would be soon enough. She stared at the heated fuselage and silently willed the mooncalf to sense Vilecom and return to the nursery moon. Instead, the red tone seemed to intensify. She grabbed her helmet and snapped it in place. “Perhaps we should have chosen a different reentry path.”
“Inadequate fuel for any other orbit.”
Raine winced at that reminder. “Well, at least you and I should survive the worst in some way.” She couldn’t say the same thing for her unwanted passenger. With no time to go below and get Colonel Atano back into his space suit, she started muttering a countdown. At nineteen, she thought that the heated section looked like it might be melting.
If she hadn't fired so much hydro, the beast wouldn't get so close.
Of course, if she hadn't fired it, she might still be chasing the mooncalf.
Even when the fiery red glow of Vilecom became visible, the maddening adolescent stayed close to Nambaba. Worse, a small herd of mooncalves, which were leaping through the moon's plumes of erupting lava, headed toward her. She opened a transmission channel and hailed the team of dragon shepherds.
"Otami here," the blue team leader said. "Shift change was-"
"I know," she interrupted, well aware that she was more than nine hours overdue. "We had a runaway, and I just returned."
"Shepherd Blue-Six here, I have you on visual. Are you carrying the calf home?"
Raine sighed. “It’d be a more clever joke if I wasn’t half convinced that I am. I’ve got a spot over my starboard rebuffer that looks like it’s going to start dripping all over my panner. A little help would be appreciated.”
Despite the proximity to Vilecom’s comforting heat, it took three of Otami’s team working in conjunction to force the stubborn beast back to the nursery moon. "Thanks Blue Team," she said.
“Any time, Gold Leader.”
“Your hull looks okay, but I’d have it checked for heat fractures.”
“Thanks,” Raine said. “I will.”
“You can stay and watch how my team handles the CRU’s,” Otami said.
Raine gritted her teeth at the snobbish invitation and held back reminding him that she’d trained him to handle the Reclamation Units. “Thanks, but my ship is operating on vapor.”
“Your loss,” Otami said.
She ignored him and altered Nambaba's trajectory to beg
in a landing orbit. Then, she worked the kinks out of her spine and waited for The Pinnacle to come within range. When it was close enough, she locked in a classified code and keyed in her brother's private frequency. "Preston, I need your help."
"I'm in the middle of an experiment.” His tone sounded annoyed. Raine shrugged. As long as she could remember, her brother had never liked receiving calls. “Can't it wait?"
The blip indicating The Pinnacle was already inching across the view screen. "No. I need you. Right now, I'm coming down from duty and will be home by Vilecom’s moonrise. Meet me at my home."
"Last time-"
"Be there and bring your med kit." If he didn't come, the warrior would die... if he hadn’t already... or didn’t during reentry.
Static took over the frequency. Raine clicked off the transmission, wondering if Preston would come or not. Her brother liked to control everything, so her abrupt tone could have alienated him. But then, telling him his medical talents were needed could bring him… unless he believed Dalf needed help. He’d warned her that he’d never help the ‘fish-boy’ again, and she believed him. Raine rubbed her aching temple. Would he help with the warrior or turn her into The Zar in the hope of gaining a promotion at her expense?
She didn't know how the warrior had clung to life this long. The hydro-blast should have killed him, ditto for the android gutting him and oxygen being sucked out to stop the resulting fire. No wonder Guerreterran Shadow warriors won so many conflicts; their bodies were nearly indestructible.
And they had red blood... Did that mean her body could withstand torture, too?
She hoped she’d never have to find out that answer.
She piloted Nambaba over the Sea of Sorrows' dark waters, then reduced speed as she neared the green expanse of the outlying marshes. A precise geometric arrangement of agricultural towers dotted the wetlands and provided navigation coordinates for the reclamation units, freighters and shepherds as they changed shift. Of course, the towers also supplied homes for the bog farmers, a distribution center for necessities, an infirmary for those worth saving from the chronic injuries they continually suffered and storage for produce. Each tower looked identical to the next, except for the position code marked on its circular top. An unseen communications beacon broadcast the code.
Thunder Moon: Book 2 of the Chatterre Trilogy (Chatterre Triology) Page 8
