The Men of Anderas I: Jardan, the King

by C. J. Johnson

  JarDan regretted the words when he said them, but it was too late to call them back. He watched in sickening horror as Melodie crumpled against the door, her eyes unfocused and staring. The sound she made was less than a scream and more than a moan. It was a sound he would carry with him to his grave.

  Rushing over to her, he lifted her limp body against his chest. What had he done? By the Prophets! He was trained to mediate – to be the calm voice amid dissention. Was his training for nothing? Had his anger destroyed the woman destiny determined would be his?

  Laying her on the bed, he punched the communication panel near his head. “This is Tor. Send Captain Beldon and Doctor Sladal to my quarters immediately.”

  Sightless eyes, shadowed with terror stared out from her pale, drawn face; her arms lay across her breasts in an age-old gesture of protection. JarDan covered her with the blanket, hoping the soft warmth would help. Nothing changed. She just lay there trembling and moaning that strange whimpering sound. He smoothed the tangled mass of hair off her face. Afraid to touch her. Afraid not to touch her.

  “Melodie,” he whispered, “can you hear me? If I could take back what I said I would. Come back to me, Melodie.” There was no indication she heard his plea. He continued to stroke the soft curls, offering whatever belated comfort he could -- cursing himself for a fool with every breath.

  “JarDan! JarDan! Open the door!”

  Dak’s anxious demands and pounding fists drew JarDan away from Melodie’s side.

  “JarDan! Answer me!”

  “At ease, Captain,” barked JarDan as he stood and slipped the white caftan over his head. “The locking mechanism is jammed. It will take a minute for me to clear it.”

  JarDan continued programming the panel, patiently repairing the damage Melodie inflicted in her attempt at escape. With a soft whisper the door opened to admit Dak, laser-gun drawn, ready for any danger, and Doctor Sladal, carrying his bag.

  “Put your weapon away, Dak. There’s no danger here. Sladal, come quickly.”

  “What happened to her, Commander? She’s in deep trauma.”

  JarDan watched the doctor’s careful examination, debating what to tell him. Melodie was not a paid companion. She was special and everything in him that lay claim to her rebelled at discussing their activities of the night.

  “Commander,” Sladal stated calmly. “I cannot help her if I do not know what happened.”

  “I want your vow that nothing I say will leave this room.” He waited until both men assured him of their silence before continuing.

  “She was awake when Kreisak brought my morning meal and his appearance can be startling. I sent him away as quickly as I could, but Melodie was already becoming hysterical.”

  “What in the name of all the planets was she doing here in the first place?” Dak asked.

  JarDan shot him a warning look. “Do not question my actions, Dak. I am fully responsible but I’ll not justify one hour of my time to you or anyone else.”

  “You’re a fool, JarDan. You’ve let this woman … or your lust for her … cloud your judgment.”

  “Excuse me, Commander, Captain Beldon? Could we please get on to the important information? I really must insist on answers to my questions. You may continue your argument later.”

  “Ask your questions, Sladal, I’ll answer them all.” Concern and resignation echoed in JarDan’s sharp retort.

  “There is just one, your Highness. What happened to cause this?”

  “How in blazes do I know? One minute we were sleeping -- the next minute she’s screaming about aliens and mind control and …” JarDan took a deep breath, moving closer to Melodie’s semi-conscious body.

  “She doesn’t believe I’m human,” he whispered in harsh bitterness.

  “Women are curious creatures,” replied Sladal. “It’s often difficult to decide how they will react to a given situation. Now, I don’t believe the damage is serious.” He removed a syringe and needle from the medical pack at his feet and quickly injected Melodie.

  “Melodie? Can you hear me?” Doctor Sladal’s voice was low and soothing. “You’ve had a minor … uh … accident and I need to examine you. Do you understand, my dear?”

  Melodie blinked several times, her eyes following the sound of Sladal’s voice. JarDan wanted to shout with relief when she focused on the doctor’s face, recognition replacing the blank stare of minutes before.

  “Doctor?” Melodie wanted to cry in relief when she recognized the bushy-haired doctor. It really was a nightmare but she was awake now. No more aliens with ferocious teeth. No more angels with the soul of the devil.

  “I had a horrible dream. You’ll never believe …”

  “Thank the Ancient Prophets!”

  Melodie jerked when she heard JarDan’s soft prayer. Dear God in Heaven! It was no dream!

  She jumped from the bed, clutching the blanket around her breasts and pulling Doctor Sladal with her toward the door.

  “Run, Doctor! We’ve got to warn the authorities. He’s not human. He’s a …”

  She stopped when she backed into Dak’s solid frame. The reality of her situation crashed around her.

  “You’re all aliens.” Melodie reached out and let her fingertips brush against the bushy blue hair of the physician. “Aren’t you?”

  Her softly whispered question was the last sound she made before Dak carefully pressed his fingers against the base of her ear, rendering her unconscious.

  JarDan turned his back on the woman in Dak’s arms. “Put her in space sleep, Sladal.”

  He didn’t speak to the other men nor did he move from his post at the window port until he heard the faint whoosh of the door closing.

  Chapter Five

  What are you?

  Melodie’s anguished question echoed in JarDan’s head. He knew she would ask questions, he anticipated them, welcomed them. How else were they to learn about each other? But not that one. Never that one. The roiling emotions souring his stomach overwhelmed his feeling of despair. He was the Prince of Tor. Who was she to question his humanity?

  JarDan punched the controls on the weight simulator to a higher setting, ruthlessly increasing the pressure of the butterfly device. He often sought the physical release of a strenuous workout when the demands of being a travel craft commander and ruler threatened to overwhelm the man. Only this time it wasn’t working. The familiar pattern of resist-release-resist-release failed to soothe.

  Blinded by the sweat running down his face and over muscles bulging with the strain of his workout, JarDan refused to quit. Refused to quit even when the creaking of metal against rubber repeated Melodie’s question. What? What? What?

  “A-a-r-r-g-h!” He yelled with a final push against the simulator. “I’m a man, Melodie!” He roared into the empty room. “A man!”

  The volume of his rage did not disguise the pain of her betrayal. JarDan dropped to a bench against the wall, leaning his head against the cool metal. As his labored breathing slowed he relived again the events of the morning. He could think of nothing that he said or did to generate such fear. He had been so arrogantly sure he and Melodie would share a future. What kind of future awaited him when the woman cringed at his touch?

  “By all the Prophets, what am I to do now?” He whispered in resignation. When no answer floated back to him, he headed back to his quarters. Maybe there were answers in a stinging spray of hot water.

  JarDan felt better physically, if not mentally, after his shower. He was still toweling the dampness from his hair when his personal comm-unit beeped.

  “What now,” he mumbled to himself. He and Dak were the only ones with comm-units, and they used them only if the security of the ship’s monitored communication system was suspect.

  “Dak?” JarDan questioned, slipping the heavy gold ring that housed the unit back onto his finger.

  “Come to Sladal’s quarters. Now.”

  The door slid closed behind him before Dak’s voice faded. If this was urgent enough fo
r the comm-unit, he wouldn’t waste time in responding.

  When he entered the doctor’s private quarters minutes later, Dak greeted him with his laser-gun drawn, armed for battle.

  “Twice today you’ve greeted me with your weapon. What’s the reason now?” His steel-edged tone conveyed the urgency of the question.

  “Sladal has something you should see.”

  “Doctor?” JarDan asked eyeing the computer sheets clutched in the man’s hand.

  “You have to understand, Commander. Even had I known of a problem, I would not have ordered a medical scan for this.” The doctor paced around the room, glancing at the printed sheets in his hand, unaware of the gathering storm of frustrated confusion in his prince.

  “When I examined the body this morning …”

  “Body?” JarDan barked. “Whose body? Melodie …”

  “… I thought it was merely a tragic waste of life until Dak found the vial. My initial …”

  “Will someone explain to me what is going on here? Whose body? A vial of what?” JarDan’s voice left no room for misunderstanding. If the order from the commander of the vessel didn’t elicit an immediate response, then a royal command would guarantee swift and immediate retribution.

  “Sit down, Sladal,” Dak urged. “Let me explain this before we both spend the rest of our lives on an incarceration asteroid.”

  With hands fisted against his hips, legs spread wide for balance, JarDan faced his life-long friend.

  “Housekeeping discovered the body of MedTech Torak early this morning,” Dak explained as he motioned JarDan to join him at the table covered with data sheets. “He took his own life after leaving this note.”

  JarDan took the small scrap of paper from Dak, quickly scanning the content. “What does he mean I have failed my Master? Death to the House of Tor?” He asked, looking from one man to the other.

  With a quick movement in the doctor’s direction to keep him silent, Dak answered the question.

  “We have no idea. Until I read the note, I viewed his death as nothing more than space fatigue -- a tragic waste as Doctor Sladal has already stated.”

  “Has something changed your view of his suicide?” JarDan asked, watching Dak’s anxious pacing.

  A dull red flush climbed Dak’s neck. Muttering curses in several galactic dialects, he rounded on his liege, his commander, his friend.

  “Sladal ran routine medical scans on each female as he does every day. He found several unexplained variations between Melodie’s readings yesterday and those done today.”

  “I isolated each variation,” interrupted Sladal, “and identified the source. The wine you served for dinner, the boranut spice, even the citrona liquor in your dessert. Everything … except one.”

  “What has this got to do with Melodie?” The last remnants of disillusioned rage vanished in an instant. The heavy thudding of his heart made breathing difficult and JarDan swallowed hard past his fear. “I see no connection between the suicide of a crew member and the females on board.”

  “Not all females, JarDan, just your Melodie,” Dak answered softly. “Torak had an empty TSX vial in his lab coat.”

  “Impossible,” JarDan stated, a sick feeling gathering in his gut. “It’s illegal to possess the drug.” He didn’t want to see a connection between Melodie and Torak and TSX.

  “Murder is illegal, but it still occurs with sickening frequency.” Dak’s sarcastic remark earned him a fierce scowl.

  “Your Highness,” Sladal interrupted softly, “the one variation I could not identify on Melodie Smith’s medical scan was TSX and Torak was on duty the night you brought her aboard.”

  JarDan quickly scanned the handful of papers Sladal offered him, proof of what Dak claimed. He carefully lowered his taut body into a chair. So much of last night made sense to him now. Why her comments had disagreed with the original mind scan and her actions seemed so out of character. Taken separately, each incident could be a quirk. A mind scan was generally accurate, but nothing was infallible, so he’d ignored the differences, brushed them aside like an annoying insect.

  “Why would Torak administer a sex stimulant to Melodie?” JarDan watched with growing aggravation as Dak and Sladal exchanged looks.

  “My first thought,” Dak finally answered, “was that you ordered it.”

  “What?” JarDan yelled, jumping from the chair. “Have you lost your mind? By the Beard of the Prophet,” he cursed, “if any man but you had made such an accusation he would be dead now! Hear me well, Dak! I did not plan her seduction when I brought her aboard!” JarDan pinned his friend with a deadly stare. “But, if that was my goal, I’m fully capable of arousing and satisfying her without such vile assistance. You, who know me better than anyone, know I abhor the thought of drugs. It reduces the user to little more than an animal.”

  His throat tightened against the rising bile in his stomach when he recalled the vivid red scratches that covered his chest and back.

  “It was because of your irrational reaction to this Earthling, JarDan.” Dak defended himself. “As Chief of Security my job is to investigate all possibilities in an unexplained death.”

  “Then do your job, Captain,” JarDan growled, stalking around the small room. “But I warn you -- make no further accusations against me you cannot prove!”

  “I now believe the use of TSX was spontaneous -- not planned,” Dak continued. “No one knew you would bring an adult female aboard, but your attraction to her was common knowledge within minutes of your arrival. Based on this,” Dak handed the note back to JarDan, “I believe the attack on your Melodie was a warning to you.”

  JarDan shook his head at Dak’s summation. “You’re mistaken, Dak. What did he hope to accomplish? A blow to my pride if I failed to satisfy her? That hardly seems reason enough for suicide. No. There must be another explanation.”

  “Your Highness,” interrupted Sladal, “if you had followed proper procedures, Melodie Smith would be dead now.”

  JarDan schooled his features not to reveal the crippling pain that squeezed his chest at Sladal’s statement. It took several seconds before he could force even one word past the knot of fear in his throat. “Explain.”

  “Sladal is right, JarDan,” Dak insisted softly. “She should have gone into space sleep when she regained consciousness. Two hours later her heart would have exploded.”

  The Prince of Tor shuddered as the horror of what might have been washed over him.

  “Torak was off-duty when you arranged your dinner,” Dak continued. “You gave orders for secrecy …”

  “To prevent her from seeing one of our alien crew members before I had a chance to explain, not to hide my interest in her.”

  “Exactly,” Dak agreed. “You know how fast news travels among the crew. Torak must have known his plan had failed before you poured the first glass of wine.”

  “It would explain her irrational behavior this morning.” Sladal offered. “TSX heightens all of the senses to such a degree that simple confusion would become abject fear.”

  “Believe me, Doctor,” JarDan stated flatly. “Her reaction to me went well beyond simple confusion.” The emotional wounds from Melodie’s cruel words of the morning still burned with the acid of her rejection.

  Sliding his fingers through his damp hair, JarDan pushed the dark strands back from his temples. “I saved her from the tornado and put her into the hands of an assassin. When she began to act strangely, I should have returned her to her room.” I ignored my instincts and followed my raging hormones. In the name of destiny I gloried in the taking of her innocence.

  JarDan closed his eyes but couldn’t block out the image of Melodie when she finally realized the truth of her situation.

  “I should have found a way to calm her fears, to reassure her. Instead, I yelled obscenities that would make a whore blush.” The yoke of guilt, resignation and responsibility settled around JarDan’s shoulders, heavy and oppressive. His belief that Melodie was the reason for his restless
ness -- and the end of his driving compulsion to remain in Earth’s orbit -- was still strong. He had no doubt about his commitment to a life with her. Was he strong enough to withstand the pain that was sure to be a part of her acceptance? Would he have the patience to win her affection? Did he really have a choice? Her trust in him was battered and bruised but he refused to believe there was no hope. He just had to find a way to restore it.

  Tossing the suicide note back on the desk, JarDan stood and turned to face Dak. Gone was the disillusioned lover, replaced once again by the Prince of Tor.

  “Have her sleep chamber brought to my quarters. Until we discover who Torak’s master is and why this attack on Melodie, or my family if Dak is correct, we must take precautions. Pick a few of your best men and reassign the duty schedule so that one of them will be with Melodie when I can’t be there. Have you completed a search of Torak’s quarters?”

  At Dak’s negative response JarDan moved rapidly toward the door, stopping just inside the portal.

  “Assemble a security team. We may find answers to our questions there.”

  Before JarDan could exit the doctor’s small chamber, Dak laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Until we discover the extent of this conspiracy we should limit the number of people involved. Torak may have accomplices on board.”

  JarDan nodded at Dak’s wisdom. “So be it. Come, Sladal, it appears you are now on security detail.”

  JarDan’s mind churned with implications as the three men traveled the corridors to the crew’s quarters. If Dak were correct about the threat to his family, then he had to send a message to King Zeth immediately. It was not the first time he and his father had battled for the Throne of Tor. One family could not rule for more than five thousand years without encountering an enemy or two. Not even the specter of extinction from the plague that gripped his world was powerful enough to prevent such violence. Drawing a deep cleansing breath into his lungs, JarDan prepared himself. The time of battle may be unknown but it would come inevitably. Already he could feel the adrenaline surging – heating his blood.