Star Trek - NF - 07 - The Quiet Place

by The Quiet Place(Lit)

  The doors swung inward, and Fr'Col entered. He muttered to himself as he walked to his chair, eased himself into it, then rapped authoritatively with the triangular stone as he called out, "Meeting come to order! This meeting of the ruling council of Montos is now called to order." Then he lay the stone down, interlaced his fingers and stared at Si Cwan. Cwan waited for his pronouncement or decision.

  Fr'Col stared at Si Cwan, his entire face a dark scowl, and then he said,

  "And... you are?"

  "I'm going to go wait in the ship," said Zak Kebron.

  VI.

  THE HOUSE LOOKED UNASSUMING, which naturally prompted Xyon to assume the worst.

  It stood on the edge of a dirt road with walls made of some sort of bricklike material.

  The hairs on the back of his neck rose. That alone would have been more than enough to alert him, for he generally tended to trust his hunches. But standing around outside with concerns and raised hairs wasn't going to accomplish a damned thing. He considered the possibility of sneaking around the back, climbing up through a window, rooting about. All of those were possibilities. On the other hand, he wasn't sure just how necessary any of that would be. It would have been one thing if he were trying to infiltrate a fort or some sort of outpost, but this was simply a house, a house where there was definitely someone in residence, for he had caught fleeting glimpses of her through the windows. It was an older woman, a pale-skinned sample of the type on this world. She definitely had something on her mind. Xyon could discern that even from the furtive glances he'd caught of her, particularly because she kept glancing toward the second story of the house. On the second story, there was a room with shuttered windows. There was only one room like that, and Xyon had the feeling that whatever was causing the older woman concern, it was in that room.

  In all likelihood, it was the mysterious Riella.

  Montos was not a particularly populous world: There were a couple of outlying tribes that were somewhat nomadic in nature, and the rest of the small populace resided within the proximity of the central city. It had taken Xyon no time at all to check out the more remote areas before determining that Riella wasn't to be found there; instead he turned his attention to the more populated regions.

  During his search, he had been guided naturally by what people he questioned told him, but also by his gut instinct. He had a knack for detecting duplicity, and lying to him was generally something of a waste of time. Nevertheless, despite his natural gifts, he had anticipated it being an extremely arduous, time-consuming, and even boring process. He could not have been more wrong; it didn't take long at all. Apparently, the girl had something of a reputation, both in her manner and in her preference for seclusion. Of course, Xyon was no fool. He knew the male mentality well enough to know that all manner of attitudes could be ascribed to a young woman who, quite simply, didn't provide the local males with the kind of entertainment they'd prefer. The fault might very well lie with them rather than her.

  In any event, the young men to whom he spoke had no trouble at all steering Xyon to the woman he sought. They had initially regarded him with some suspicion, for he was clearly of alien origin and Montos was not accustomed to having many visitors. Xyon had managed to allay their concerns somewhat adroitly, however, by the simple expedient of giving them their first taste of Romulan ale (several bottles of which he kept securely tucked away on his ship). He hadn't wanted the boys talking about his presence to the wrong people until he had time to accomplish what he needed to. That wasn't going to be a problem, considering that they were sitting around in a large circle, sporting rather goofy grins and giggling incessantly at one another under the impression that they were actually having a conversation. By the time they sobered up, with any luck, Xyon would be long gone.

  With Riella? Xyon still wasn't sure. To a certain degree, he was improvising.

  His disgustingly annoying streak of sentimentalism was prompting him to take a hand in the matter, but he wasn't entirely certain as to how strong a hand he should take.

  There were two things that were certain, however. The first was that nothing was going to be accomplished by skulking around outside the house. And the second was that the passage of time was only going to bring the Dogs of War closer, not place them farther away.

  Opting to go for the direct approach, Xyon walked up to the front door and knocked on it with authority. He figured he had nothing to lose. If the woman inside (the mother, he suspected) proved intransigent, he could always gain entry to the structure via other means.

  There was a stirring from within, and Xyon thought he detected two sets of footsteps. Then the door creaked open and a woman's face appeared. It was the same woman he had spied through the windows earlier. Her face was careworn, and when she looked at Xyon her eyes went wide in surprise. Very likely she was no more accustomed to seeing offworlders than anyone else on this backwater planet was.

  "What do you want?" she demanded. Straight, to the point, suspicious. He could appreciate that attitude. It was probably the same way that he'd react.

  "My name is Xyon," he said. "I admit, you don't know me and have no reason to trust me. But I'm here to tell you that you and Riella are in danger."

  "How do you know Riella?" she said.

  That, of course, was precisely the reply he'd been hoping for. He'd figured that if he'd asked whether Riella resided there, he might be met with obfuscation. By presenting it as a given, he'd gotten her to admit that Riella was there.

  "It's enough that I know," he told her. "May I come in and-"

  She cast a glance over her shoulder. Someone was standing there, probably

  Riella. "I would rather you didn't." And she started to close the door in his face.

  Xyon put a firm hand against the door and stopped it from shutting. "I don't think you quite understand me, Madam. I said there is danger coming. I trust that word is not unclear to you."

  Her voice cold, she said, "You are a stranger, sir. I do not know you, and yet you come here and spout about danger, talking about my daughter. The only danger that has presented itself in recent days is you. Good day to you." She pushed again, this time obviously applying all her strength.

  Xyon, however, didn't budge. His arm was strong and straight and didn't bend in the slightest, despite the effort she was putting into closing the door. Her inability to move him at all registered as clear surprise on her face. Nor did his voice, calm and assured, display any indication of strain. "You are quite right. I am a stranger. I could have left you and your daughter to your fate and not had it impede my life in any way. I chose not to do so, however. Now you can show some appreciation for that and help me to help you save your life. Or you can fight me, wasting time and further jeopardizing yourself. Let me come in and we can work out-"

  The door was suddenly yanked open and Xyon took a step back in surprise, for the person he was staring at was most definitely not a young female named Riella.

  He was tall and powerfully built, and he had fiery red skin. Xyon instantly recognized him as a Thallonian.

  "You have been told to leave," said the Thallonian. "I suggest you do so."

  "Who are you?"

  "Someone who is welcome here. That makes one of us. Now be on your way."

  "You don't care about danger either?"

  "I assure you, child, there is nothing you know that I do not." The Thallonian dripped scorn. "Now be off with you."

  "Perhaps you might want to let me speak to Riella about that," Xyon said. "After all, she is the one who is in danger, red man. Not you. Why don't I-"

  Xyon had never seen anyone move quite as quickly as the Thallonian. Before he knew what was happening, he was on the ground, a pain in his chest from where the Thallonian had punched him. He was gasping, but he was determined not to rub his chest where the pain was. He didn't want to give the Thallonian the satisfaction.

  The Thallonian, for his part, had barely seemed to move. Clearly he was a warrior of some sort. Xyon chided hi
mself mentally; he had been horrifically overconfident. If the Thallonian had had a blade concealed in his hand, Xyon would be dead instead of just sitting in a rather undignified position with a sore rump.

  Obviously, the Thallonian knew that as well, for he said, "You were lucky just now, boy. Do not push your luck. Understood?" Without waiting for a reply, he pushed the door closed and this time Xyon made no effort to stop it.

  "Idiots," he muttered. Then he rose, dusted himself off, and studied the house carefully to see what would be the best means of sneaking in.

  That was when his sharp ears heard something hit the ground from behind the house. Immediately he knew from the way in which it landed that it was heavy enough to be a body. Indeed, it probably was a body. Could it actually be that the Thallonian and the woman had tossed Riella's body out the back window? Were they vaguely under the impression that no one would notice? How stupid could they possibly be?

  Then he heard a low moan. Perhaps the body was not dead after all, but instead only on the brink of death. That would reduce the Thallonian and "mother" to the rank of "attempted killers" rather than murderers. Cold comfort, that.

  Then came a grunt, and he could tell from that grunt-along with the sounds of dirt and random pebbles being scattered-that the body was most definitely not only alive, but kicking. It was getting to its feet and obviously was intending to go somewhere.

  It was then that Xyon ventured in the direction of the back of the house. He moved with the utmost caution, although he was understandably curious about what it was that he was going to find. He already had a sneaking suspicion, however. And once he got within range, he saw that his suspicion was correct.

  He saw, dangling from the back window of the house, a short piece of a makeshift rope, cobbled together from what appeared to be knotted bedclothes. It hung halfway down the back of the house, with the remaining distance to the ground covered by the simple act of allowing herself to fall. It had not been a graceful drop because he could tell from both what he had heard and the evidence of toe-displaced dirt that she had landed quite clumsily. Dirt and debris were scattered everywhere, and he could even see a bit of the imprint from where she had landed and come down hard on her rump.

  He caught the briefest glimpse of her as she ran from the house. She was limping slightly, and he hoped that she hadn't injured herself too badly. The abodes in that area were set relatively close together, so she quickly disappeared down an alley between two other homes, but it was going to take far more than that for her to shake him. With that confidence in mind, he set off after her and hoped that the confidence wasn't misplaced.

  Never before had Riella run so fast.

  She had walked so many times around the relatively small area that had circumscribed her life. She knew the paths, knew every bush. There was the large boulder a short distance from her house that she had clambered upon when she was a little girl. There was that remarkable moss-covered area where she had lain and stared up at the moons and tried to get some sort of sense of what the future held for her.

  Now she viewed all those places as if she were seeing them through other eyes.

  Even the most mundane and familiar elements of her life were alien and frightening to her. It was a natural extension of her present state of mind, for the place that she had called home all this time had been transformed into a strange and unknowable place.

  Her mother had spent the morning grilling her about the dreams, first gently and then with greater and greater belligerence. Every so often Malia would seem to realize that her aggressiveness in the matter was odd and drawing attention to things that she would rather not have attention drawn to. In those instances, she would rein herself in, although it was always temporary. Clearly she was running scared, and Riella knew exactly who she was scared of.

  The source of the fear arrived a short time later. Riella had been hiding up in her room when he arrived. Her mother didn't know she was hiding, of course.

  Riella had simply pleaded fatigue and gone up to take a nap. Having done so, she then crouched down by her door and listened carefully. Even so, straining her ears, she had only picked up bits and pieces of the conversation. But what she was hearing, she didn't like. To be in a situation where one's mother is in league with a spectre who haunts one's darkest dreams.

  Well, naturally, the impulse is to extract oneself from such a situation as quickly as possible. She caught the eyes of a few scattered citizens as she ran, but no one said anything or tried to stop her. They seemed, at most, mildly curious as to what had propelled her in this manner, but other than that they didn't give her plight overmuch consideration. Every so often she would glance over her shoulder, wondering whether or not she was being followed. She felt haunted, hunted. She felt as if, at this point, there was no escape in any aspect of her life. In her sleep, her dreams came after her, and in her waking existence, her mother had been transformed from a beloved parent into an ally of those who would harm her.

  How could her mother do that? How was it possible?

  Maybe she's not your mother. The words came unbidden to her mind, but once there, would not leave. Was it possible? Why not? At this point, anything was possible. But all the memories she had, of her mother being there from her earliest days: bouncing her on her knee, wiping away the blood from a cut, loving her, caring about her, and being there for her every day of her life. All of those contradicted the new notion that this woman was, in fact, her worst enemy, a betrayer, a...

  She couldn't think about it anymore. She just had to keep moving, keep running.

  Which was precisely what Riella did.

  The problem was, she had no idea where she was heading or what she was going to do. She had no real friends on Montos. Her entire world was her home and the woman with whom she shared it. With those cut off to her, she felt completely adrift. Still, one does not necessarily have to know where one is running to in order to run away from something else.

  And so Riella had bolted, as quickly as her legs would take her.

  It did not take her long to leave Montos City behind. The land beyond the city was not particularly inviting. There had not been a good deal of rainfall recently, and the ground was hard and cracked. There were, however, some areas with small mountains and (so she had heard) caves. Supposedly there was some danger and local children had been warned to stay away from the area lest mishaps befall them. Indeed, there were stories

  (folktales, she hoped) of children who had gone exploring in the caves and come to unhappy ends, their spirits still wailing away in eternal undead misery.

  That, however, did not bother Riella in the slightest. Her waking life was nightmarish enough. The prospect of facing other peoples' nightmares didn't deter her at all.

  Food, however, was a concern. She had not been able to go down to the kitchen to obtain anything to take with her. She had no food, no water. Her prospects of survival were not plentiful. But she wasn't thinking about any of that. She was running purely on instinct. Unfortunately, her instincts weren't particularly sound. When concerns over practical matters, such as food and water warred for attention in her mind, she automatically pushed them away as a sort of self-defense mechanism.

  At one point the toe of her shoe caught in one of the cracks in the ground, and she fell hard, scraping her right knee. She scrambled to her feet, blood trickling down the front of her right leg. She started to wipe it away, but then just took a deep breath and kept going.

  The sun had reached its zenith, and she felt as if the heat was like fist blows beating her down. She pushed her way through it, determined not to let anything slow her. But her determination quickly crumbled, and she started to sob. She had never been more angry with herself than she was at that moment. She felt so weak, so useless, so utterly helpless. She was faced with a difficult situation, and she wasn't rising to it. She was letting herself be overwhelmed by it.

  She saw some mountainous area ahead of her, sepa-rated from her by perhaps half a mile. S
he licked her lips and found that there was no moisture on her tongue to improve then- chapped condition. They were becoming as hard and cracked as the rest of her face. The elegant antennae on her forehead were sagging under the unrelenting heat. Her mother had always tried to protect her from the effects of the sun, being extremely concerned and cautious about sunstroke or burning. She said there was a tendency in her family towards such mishaps. Riella no longer knew what to believe.

  Her antennae were feeling tight, as if they were shriveling up on her. They were giving her more and more discomfort. Her whole body felt too tight on her. She was having trouble breathing, even thinking.

  Then she heard something behind her. Something with sharp nails. She heard it scrabbling along, and it sounded like a wild animal. She was afraid to turn around, as if-whatever it was-it wouldn't be real if she didn't look at it. It wouldn't present any sort of threat if she just didn't acknowledge its existence by seeing it.

  She heard it drawing closer, closer, and she realized that her plan wasn't exactly fraught with merit. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face whatever it was. No furtive glances here; let whatever was coming after her take her head on.