Ailim leaned against a curved corridor wall, her face pallid. He set his hands on her shoulders and gave them a little squeeze as he kissed her brow. “Go home, dear one.”
She snapped upright, raising her chin. In the indistinct light her eyes were more gray than blue. Her lips firmed, the SupremeJudge demeanor trickling back into her. “No.” Simple and soft, it was still irrevocable.
He leaned his forehead against hers. “Please?”
Her shoulders quivered under his hands, but remained straight. “I would like to do what you want me to, Ruis, but I couldn’t forgive myself if I could have helped you and didn’t.”
There was nothing more to say.
Samba had circled around them in laps, then her ears rotated and she whizzed off down the hallway ahead of them. Ruis heard muttering voices and a clank or two as if the Holly brothers kicked decrepit ’bots or other debris out of their way.
“Yow! What was that?” a lighter male voice called, getting closer with every step—Tinne Holly.
“It’s that damned cat from the Opera House. Silver collar, calico, daughter of Zanth, just like T’Ash said. Yes, I’d wager she’s Ruis Elder’s Fam.” Holm sounded as if he was cheerfully anticipating a fight.
“Ah, the outcast. We’ll get him,” Tinne said with rising excitement. “Wait, that looks like Samba.”
“Samba?” asked Holm.
“I didn’t see her well before. She’s the daughter of one of our estate cats,” said Tinne.
“Huh,” said Holm. “We’ll get her too.”
Adrenalin flooded Ruis’s veins.
The Hollys loved a fight. Ruis looked around for a weapon, but nothing looked usable. He firmed his jaw. Maybe he had a chance to convince them of his use in rehabilitating the Ship.
Samba’s saucer tilted as she took the corner.
ZZZZZZssssssst! A blaser sizzled.
Samba growled.
Ruis and Ailim broke into a run.
Boom! Ruis recognized the sound of an antique airlock opening, then a low, powerful hum followed by the thin clicks of a robot. The sound of the belt-tracks of a fighting robot. He inhaled sharply and choked, doubled over coughing from the stirred up dust.
“What’s that?” Tinne asked.
“Behind us!” Holm said.
“Lord and Lady!” Tinne swore.
Ailim looked at Ruis in concern, but her eyes narrowed. She darted around him.
Ruis didn’t have the breath to curse, he couldn’t stop coughing.
“It’s big and it’s a little clumsy, but pretty heavily armored,” Holm said. “It moves on tracks—more stable than wheels. It’s reach is long and those weapons in its claws look nasty. That cowardly bastard Ruis Elder set it on us.”
Anger kindled in Ruis’s gut.
“Do you hear something else?” asked Tinne.
“Coughing and running. There’s two ahead of us, one’s smaller,” said Holm.
Ruis heard the slide of a sword being drawn from its sheath. His anger chilled and his brain cleared when he thought of Ailim running toward the Hollys. He sped flat out.
Ailim rounded the curve in the corridor.
“Judge D’SilverFir!” Tinne shouted.
The resonance told Ruis that the men were farther away than he’d thought.
“Greetings, GrandLady. We heard there was trouble on your estate last night and you’d gone missing,” Holm said politely.
“D’SilverFir had ground tremors, an earthquake was barely averted. Ruis Elder saved my life.”
“Ah. Tell me, can you do anything about that war behemoth behind us?” asked Holm.
“Ship!” Ailim called out.
No answer.
Finally Ruis slid around the corner. A few meters away, Ailim walked with the grace of a GrandLady toward the men. The Hollys were about halfway down the long corridor, and Ruis was outside blaser range.
As soon as the fighting ’bot scanned Ruis, it rumbled quicker after the brothers.
“Hollys, sheath your weapons and I’ll stop the robot,” Ruis called.
He received a flashing smile from Holm. “Sorry, but I can’t really trust you, outcast.”
Ruis let the hurtful word pierce him, then pushed it aside. The dire circumstances demanded he keep control of his temper.
“Ship, slow the robot,” Ruis commanded.
“Captain, we disagree. You are in danger. We postulate these native Celtans can kill you summarily.”
“They’re honorable men. They won’t do that,” Ailim said, her tone calm. She flicked a glance at Ruis. “Stop where you are.”
“No. I won’t hide behind you,” Ruis said.
Red flared on her cheeks.
“Ship, I gave you an order,” Ruis reminded. The robot slowed fractionally. “Reduce the speed of the fighting robot by half.” The rattling noise of the robot’s track diminished, but didn’t stop.
Samba hovered in front of the Hollys, blocking them. Two friends—Ailim and Samba—were determined to protect him. Welling affection helped Ruis vanquish his anger.
“You have several options, Captain,” said Ship. “We can hold the two native males in the brig five levels below.”
The Hollys stopped smiling.
“Our preferred choice is for a memory wipe of the Celtans,” said Ship.
The horrific concept froze everyone. The Holly brothers went pale.
“What?” asked Ruis.
“With the medical information at our disposal, through a mixture of hypnosis, drugs, and brain-laser we can remove the knowledge of your presence here on the Ship in Druida from the natives.”
“Can you, Ship?” Ailim sounded cutting. “How selective can you be? How delicate is this procedure? What ancillary damage could it do to their minds? How long has it been since you practiced this?”
“Very good questions, Ship,” Ruis said. “Have a report answering them on my desk by this evening.” If he was still here and not in chains in the gaol again, he’d read it.
“We will not allow you to be captured,” Ship said. The robot caught up with the Hollys.
The brief commotion was too quick to see. A black hole opened in the wall, the robot’s silver tentacles flashed, shoving the Hollys into the hole. Then the corridor was empty.
A revving hum started.
“What’s going on?” Ruis barely got the words out before Ailim screamed as the robot scooped her up and barreled toward him. Pounding came from the closed door. Then the fighting robot picked him up and bolted to the omnivator.
“Crew, follow with maximum speed,” Ship said.
Samba did. Within instants they were in the omnivator and hurling away from the hallway that had begun to vibrate with noise and power. “We think you should supervise from the Captain’s Quarters,” Ship said.
“Supervise what?” yelled Ruis.
The doors of the cubicle opened and they were dumped out.
Ailim gasped. Her eyes looked wild. Samba shot from the ’vator and whizzed down the hallway to their quarters. Ruis heard her yowl her cat-passwords.
He grabbed Ailim’s hand. “We can see what’s going on in my quarters. Can you run or should I carry—”
She ran.
As they arrived in the study a holo shimmered into view. It showed the topside of the Ship, in the northwest quadrant where they’d just been. Curls of smoke seeped out, tracing a square metal hatch that faced the Great Platte Ocean.
“Lady and Lord, Ship’s not burning them?” Ailim choked.
Prickles raced up Ruis’s spine. “I don’t think so. Ship, explain!”
A door raised from the curve of the Ship’s hull, and a great cannon-like snout protruded. The Ship shook.
Boom!
He only heard the sound in speakers and not through his ears; he couldn’t feel the shot, but Ruis’s stomach dropped as he saw a round, reflective orb shoot from the Ship arcing away across the ocean.
“Lifepod!” Ruis shouted. “The Hollys are in a lifepod! Ship, ma
ximum lifesupport. Sacrifice anything to ensure safe landing for them.”
The projected trajectory on the screen arced over a quarter of the planet. Ruis winced. “Abort flight immediately, minimum flight and maximum security.”
“We were only protecting you,” Ship sulked.
“You have contact with the pod, correct?” Ruis had never felt more determined.
“Correct,” Ship answered at its lowest audible volume.
“Then you will ensure that the lifepod will land at the soonest possible moment. You will instruct the pod to provide the maximum amount of assistance to the Hollys. This is not negotiable. If my orders are not carried out now, I will leave this Ship within the septhour and never come back.”
“Aborting the pod at this moment would cause it to land in the Arctic Sea. Recommend that the pod finish an orbit.”
“Yes, ensure their safety!” Ruis ordered.
“Commands are being sent to the lifepod with a program for automatic start up and translation of pertinent data for the Celtans. Calculating new landing,” Ship grumbled, adding clanking sound effects.
A bar graph flickered on at the bottom of the holo, showing the progress of the systems Ship was sending to the lifepod.
“Flight being aborted. Landing program engaged. Set down at the northeastern edge of this subcontinent will be in ten Celtan minutes.”
“Maps!” Ailim shouted.
“Transmit maps,” Ruis confirmed.
“Our maps have not been updated in two centuries,” Ship gloated.
Ailim muttered under her breath. Her phrases sounded like real swearing.
“Can you establish a scry—a visual and/or audio link to the pod?” asked Ruis
“The pod is not responding,” Ship said.
“Tell the Hollys to prepare for landing. Broadcast instructions and repeat until the pod sets down.”
More clanking. “Done,” said the Ship.
Ailim licked her lips. “This lifepod, what does it have in it?”
Silence. Ruis rolled his eyes. “Answer GrandLady D’SilverFir’s questions now and in the future.”
A rattle.
“The pod is fully stocked with Earth medical supplies, space and atmosphere suits, emergency rations, and water,” stated the Ship.
The minutes as the orb circled Celta passed in agonizing slowness. Finally the pod’s arc passed Druida again and began to flatten. The little orange icon with two twinkling stars inside plummeted. Ruis held his breath for the final minute of the pod’s dive. Ailim grabbed his biceps and squeezed. “Is it going too fast? Will they be hurt?” Her voice rose in near panic.
“Landing will be acceptable for strong Celtan men,” Ship said. That didn’t reassure Ruis. Ailim’s nails bit into his arm. “Death probability is two percent, major injuries is five percent, minor injuries ten percent, bruising fifteen percent—”
“Enough!” Ruis said
“The Celtans are strapped in and ready for landing,” Ship said.
“Lady and Lord,” Ailim whispered as she wriggled under Ruis’s arm so that he held her. The closeness comforted him.
With fifteen seconds to spare, the orb slowed.
“Final descent initiated,” Ship said.
“Show us where in Celta they are!” Ruis commanded.
The view angled. Ruis blinked, trying to understand the geographic details from a unique viewpoint. When he comprehended the land markers, he wondered if he could hustle Ailim from the room before she deciphered them. The escape pod carrying the Holly brothers streaked down to the most inhospitable part of the continent. He looked at her. Her eyes had widened in horror.
“Oh, no,” Ailim gasped.
“I think it’ll miss the 271 mountain range.” The peaks rose rugged and proud.
“It’s going to land in the Great Washington Boghole! We’re all doomed. They’ll be dead and we’ll be murderers,” Ailim said.
“If the boghole doesn’t get them, the mellyck will,” Ruis said, giving in to momentary pessimism. Ailim shuddered. A fierce and unpredictable screaming wind scoured the landscape on a daily basis.
The orb met the ground.
“Touchdown,” Ship said.
Ailim’s panting rasped. “They’re still there. The little starbursts in the orb.”
“Vital statistics of the Holly brothers, Ship,” Ruis ordered.
“The pod’s transmitter was damaged in the landing,” Ship said. “We cannot send nor receive.”
“But we can see them!” Ailim poked a finger through the hologram at the lifepod icon.
“The holoview is a result of distant satellite transfer.”
Ailim blinked. “What?”
Ruis patted her hand. “A satellite is a large scry orbiting the planet. I believe Ship is linked to three.”
“Oh.”
Two little blinking white lights wobbled from the orange orb.
“They’re all right!”
“For now,” Ruis said, thinking again of the vicious landscape the Hollys faced.
The room doors whooshed open. Samba flew loop-de-loops, glee quivering her whiskers. The Holly brothers on great adventure , she said. No longer in Druida City. They are gone, gone, gone.
Ailim shut her eyes. “And we are doomed.”
“Doomed?” Ruis said. “Not necessarily. If the Holly brothers survive the boghole, they can rest at Lake Meraj. The way to Ragge Town isn’t bad from there.”
“In Ragge Town they should be able to hire guides to help them teleport in stages back to Druida.” She sounded hopeful.
Ruis frowned. “I don’t think they have much gilt. The pod is full of valuable ancient Earth relics, but there’s not much of a market in Ragge Town.”
“They both wear jeweled daggers.”
“Tinne has a smoky quartz in his main gauche, and his scabbard is plain with cloisonné ivy leaves set in black. They both carry plain swords, but—” Ruis sighed in relief. “They both have Celtan silverstones inset in their blasers! And the sheath of Holm’s main gauche alternates silverstones, emeralds, and pearls.”
Ailim raised her brows. Ruis lifted a shoulder and smiled at her. “I’m an ex-thief.”
“If the Hollys make it back, they’ll know you’re living in Druida despite your banishment. They’ll know you’re restoring the Ship.” She stepped back from his arms and grabbed handfuls of his shirt and tugged, as if trying to shake him. Her stark face held eyes dilated in near terror. “You have to go, now. Leave. I’ll give you gilt. You can go to—”
He kissed her. “No.”
“No!” she shrilled.
He winced. “No. You’re here in Druida. Ship’s here. Shade’s here and I can’t give up on him—”
“Take him with you!”
He sent her a sardonic glance. “He’s a man, he doesn’t trail after me when I say ‘come.’ If you think I’m going to leave you at the mercies of your crazy aunt and my uncle Bucus, you’re wrong.” Summoning his gentlest touch, he surrounded her hands in his own and warmed the chill from them.
His brows lowered. Her fine trembling worried him. He lifted her and took a stride to the Captain’s Chair behind the desk, then settled in it with her on his lap.
“Lady and Lord,” Ailim repeated, resting her head against his chest.
Samba amused herself flying through the holo screen where the two silver starbursts had reentered the orb. Probably stripping the pod of anything that might help them on their journey. They’d know immediately where they were. No mistaking the jagged peak of Mount ZWZ or the rest of the 271 Range and the black, sucking boghole.
Ruis smoothed a hand up and down Ailim’s back. The tension marring her suppleness gradually diminished. “Everyone knows the Hollys are tough and smart. Tough enough and smart enough to make it through whatever nature throws at them.” He prayed it was true. “We’ll see if we can help. Ship, listen!”
“We are attending,” Ship grumbled.
“Can we launch another pod or some unit
with supplies?”
“No. Nothing bigger than a peeper can be repaired and sent.”
“A peeper?” Ruis asked.
“You would call it a ‘scry,’ a distant camera that can show the Celtan’s progress. With several man-hours by you, a peeper can be repaired, readied, launched and set into a tracking pattern.”
Ruis let out a breath. “Good.”
“I need to go,” Ailim said.
Ruis kept his face expressionless. “Yes. It’s better if you disassociate yourself from me. You can think up a good reason for being here by the time they return—”
She stopped his mouth with her palm. “I’ll walk to the north end of the Ship. There I’ll try and contact the Hollys telepathically.”
He kissed her palm and kept it. “You can do that?”
Ailim returned the caress of his fingers. “Distance doesn’t matter, whether I can link with them is—doubtful. I’ve only been connected with Holm Holly in a formal ritual and a blending of many minds.” Her mouth turned down. “If I were in their position, I’d have my mindshields up. The mellyck is known for screaming nasty things—undermining confidence and morale.”
He tipped her face up and kissed her. She tasted sweeter than anything ever had. Every single time it was better, just as with their loving. Every time the bond between them strengthened, she reached inside him with her caring and stirred his life into a new shape.
He broke the kiss to speak. “We now have a deadline. It won’t take more than a week for the Hollys to return.”
“No,” she said, her gaze unwavering. “We’ll need to be prepared to demand a new trial for you, and set in motion retrieving your estate, and request a panel of judges—”
“We need to plan the upset of Bucus T’Elder, Captain of the Council. Quick and final. As Ship says, consider several options.”
Her hands curled over his shoulders and squeezed. “Legally and publicly and right.” She searched his face. From the shadow that crossed her own, he guessed she hadn’t found what she’d wanted. She stood. “Samba, you will come with me. I want to talk to you.”
Samba growled and whizzed her saucer a centimeter over Ailim’s head. Ailim didn’t flicker an eyelash at the angry cat, but turned elegantly on her heel and began lecturing. “There are reasons for rules—and laws. . . .” Her voice was cut off by the thick outer doors of his quarters.
Heart Thief Page 29
