by L. E. Horn
Drake nodded. “Take the rest of our blokes too and check them over. I need them healed and good to go.” He looked at Michael, but the big man just stared pointedly back. I take it there’s not much point in asking him to go with them.
The men and their Gryphon mounts followed the Healers toward the tents. When Andrea moved to follow, Drake called to her. “Stay with us, Andrea. If I know Karn, I doubt he has taken the time to visit the Healer tents.”
By the time they approached Karn, Drake noticed that Michael’s young Gryph labored under the big man’s weight. He heard Michael offer to dismount, but the Gryph would not quit. Torso erect and neck arched, he persevered, carrying Michael to where Karn stood.
“Ahoy,” Karn said as Drake and Michael slid off their mounts. His pleasure at seeing them alive and well was obvious.
Drake grinned. I knew he filed that greeting away for future reference.
The Gryphon standing around Karn bowed their heads in respect to the humans. All showed signs of recent battle, including Karn. By the number of wounds Drake could see, he recognized the young Gryphon commander refused to sit back and let his soldiers take the risks for him. His respect for Karn—already high—grew even more.
Andrea slid off her Gryphon and asked Karn’s permission to work on his untended injuries. The big Gryph nodded, and as she healed, he informed Drake’s group in his unique monosyllabic manner. The captain’s ability to speak some Gryphonese helped him to put the pieces together.
Just before dawn, while still under the cover of darkness, Karn’s Gryphon made their move on the laser cannons along the canyon’s rim. They captured all the weapons overlooking the canyon, but the cost had been high. The cannons were of little value to the Gryphon for using them on the Tlok’mk army would decimate the slave ranks. Their capture merely insured the Tlok’mk couldn’t use the weapons against them.
Drake finished describing Karn’s activities to Michael and the others when the horizon lit up orange with the latest plasma blast. This time, when the earth shook, the rocky soil cracked beneath their feet. All fell silent for a moment, and someone pointed to the sky. A column of thick black smoke billowed in the distance and five faint contrails appeared against the sunrise.
The group froze as the echoes of a smaller explosion shook the ground. Their eyes followed the thin white lines of the ships’ progress upward until they disappeared into the clouds. Drake swallowed and heard a small sound of pain from Andrea. He glanced at Michael. The big man blinked as he squinted toward the sky, the muscles in his jaw bulging.
Gryphon and humans alike stood in silence, scanning for some further sign of the ships. Another distant explosion rumbled and more black smoke appeared against the red sky. Then the plasma cannon boomed again. For an instant, Drake thought the shield came down, but with a crazy shrieking noise it deflected the plasma beam. Forks of red lightning radiated across the horizon.
Karn moved to stand closer to the humans. Every feather and spike stood on end.
“I believe,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “we are running out of time.”
WITH A WAVE OF A clawed hand, Tark’tosk sent her tech off to gather more data, turning to study the canyon map on the wall. The latest intel on the ground battle scrolled across her console screen.
As a battle to finish the Gryphon, things are going poorly. As a trap, they are going rather well, she thought.
The entire Gryphon army, along with the human rebels, had committed themselves to protecting the mountain pass beyond the canyon.
I admit I am impressed with their strategy to date. Disabling the Farr commanders was a bold move, considering their placement within the army. But the Gryphon reluctance to rack up the slave casualties will prove a fatal flaw in their plan.
Tark’tosk counted on this. There were two objectives for the canyon battle: to buy the Tlok’mk time to destroy the planetary shield, and to lure the Gryphon army into the canyon. They would be easy to wipe out with a few plasma cannon bursts once the Tlok’mk destroyed the shield.
Within the strategic headquarters on Tarin, the ground beneath Tark’tosk shook. The tremor wasn’t unusual, but the timing seemed out of the normal cannon firing pattern. Another tremor soon after it caused further concern. She strode to her console and called the surveillance techs on the nearest Mothership to make inquiries.
“We detected an anomaly in the planetary shield,” the senior tech said. “One explosion followed by another, accompanied by the shield’s split-second failure. We think they lost at least two primary shield generators, although they re-engaged the shield before we could press the advantage. The shield is failing. We estimate its destruction within the hour.”
Tark’tosk’s eyes narrowed. “I want the timing of the second explosion.”
The tech tapped at her console. “There were two explosions: one right after a cannon pulse and another right before the shield went back up.”
“Before the shield went back up?” Tark’tosk examined the blast locations on the map. “Did you notice anything odd on the sensors between the blasts?”
More tapping. “A brief blip appeared on the radar just before the shields went back up, but it vanished. With all the energy emitted by the cannon blasts to the shield, it is not unusual to have radar ghosts.”
Radar ghosts. Tark’tosk was trained to be an expert in strategy, not radar. But if my shield took such a pounding, I would try something—anything—to get the cannon to stop.
This wasn’t her jurisdiction. The elders had final say over what happened on the Motherships, and by extension, the defense of the plasma cannon. She terminated her connection to the tech and messaged the Chamber of Elders.
I will recommend they increase security on the cannon. She couldn’t shake the feeling the Gryphon were scheming. They were intelligent, brave, and partnered with humans. The humans are proving surprisingly insidious for such a primitive race. Together, the two species have made for a worthy adversary. We underestimate them at our peril.
SEAN CAREFULLY LOWERED HIMSELF ONTO an available cot and looked around the triage tent. Most of the injured were Gryphon since the few humans participating in the predawn laser cannon raid had already been healed.
He waved off the Healers’ attentions. My leg isn’t bleeding, I can wait. Others need the attention.
The cot next to him creaked, and he looked to see Tomas rolling into it.
“So, do you need anything from me?” Tomas asked, in an innocent, cheerful tone.
“Definitely not. You can just keep your own cot warm.” Sean’s reply contained more force than necessary.
Tomas pretended to sulk before sitting up to peel off his bloody shirt. “I do not think any of this blood is mine, but you kind of lose track after a while.” Beneath the shirt, his golden-brown skin appeared whole.
“Looks like you gave more than you got,” Sean said. “You are just too squirmy to hit.”
Tomas snorted. “You are simply jealous. After all, this is not the first time you have required the attentions of a Healer.”
“Yeah, well, it’s easier to hit a barn than a clothesline,” Sean said.
“It is not my fault you are built like an ox. Perhaps you could consider dieting.” Tomas threw his shirt on the neighboring cot and grinned at him as he shed his pants. “Mind you, I like the way you are built . . .”
“Just stay where you are. I’m far from delirious,” Sean said.
A small form headed their way. With her long tail, fangs, claws, and dark body hair, she was obviously a Healer.
Sean noticed she avoided eye contact as she approached. Shy? He recognized her. She’s one of the Healers the Gryphon scouts found near the jungle. The two that escaped when the FHR divisions disbanded.
His interest was piqued as he regarded her up close for the first time. She appeared even smaller than Hannah and darkly pretty with huge topaz eyes.
“Do you need healing?” she asked Tomas, her accented voice soft.
B
y this time, Tomas had stripped and held his pants across his lap. It became clear to Sean that once again, his friend managed to emerge unscathed from a battle.
“I am fine,” Tomas said. “But my friend requires your attention. Again.”
Sean shot him a dark look as the Healer refocused on him. The Healers had torn his pant leg away when they removed the metal fragment back at the canyon’s edge. Sean shifted to help the black-haired Healer with his bandage, but she waved his hands away.
Her warmth brushed against the skin of his leg as she unwrapped the bloody cloth. While he leaned back on his elbows, he noticed intricate designs of flowers traced her bare arms with leaves in shades of red and gold.
“Those are beautiful,” he said. “Are they tattoos?”
Her eyes flashed in his direction. “I pull natural pigments into my skin and use them to draw my designs.” Her voice remained so soft he could barely hear her.
He grimaced and clenched his teeth while she lifted his leg to pull the bandage out from underneath. It had been dark when Hannah and Andrea worked on the wound, and he’d been fading in and out of consciousness. With it revealed in daylight, Sean admitted to himself his life would have been different if the Fang hadn’t invented Healers. Something I already know from experience.
“Nasty,” she said as she laid her hands on him.
Sean expected to feel pain while she healed him. To his surprise, an outpouring of warmth passed from her hands to his leg, which tingled as she worked, but there was no pain. In what seemed like no time, she sealed the skin over the wound.
Sean regarded her with awe. “It didn’t hurt at all.”
She smiled. “Hannah has taught me how to block pain while I heal.”
Thank you, Hannah. “I thank you for your healing. I’m Sean.”
“My name is Ali.” She refused to look directly at him, no matter how hard he tried to capture her gaze.
“Well, thank you, Ali.” His eyes followed her as she moved away. There’s something about her. He finally acknowledged Tomas’s stare. “What?”
“Well, thank you, Ali.” Tomas did an admirable job of mimicking him. “You had no trouble with accepting her help.” He crossed his slim arms.
“Yeah, well, she’s better looking than you are.” Sean swung his feet off the cot. The freshly healed leg seemed a little weak, but he knew from experience the strength would return.
“That is a matter of opinion.” Tomas stood to pull his bloodstained pants back on.
“Exactly my point,” Sean said with a grin. “Hurry up. I want to get back to Drake before anything interesting happens.”
Tomas muttered something unintelligible under his breath but grabbed his torn shirt and followed him.
THE ATMOSPHERE ABOARD EWTK’FISK’S Mothership radiated a tension, most apparent wherever her people gathered. As Ewtk’fisk carried her food tray to an empty table in the leisure area, she felt oddly exposed. Tlok’mk filled the large room, hunched forward in terse, private conversations. The normal vocal hubbub now sounded subdued and conspiratorial. It made her skin crawl.
Xoek’sank joined her friend at the table. The thickset Fara looked as nervous as Ewtk’fisk.
“What news of the shield?” Ewtk’fisk whispered.
They didn’t have to disguise their conversation with a forced casualness. Every Tlok’mk in the room appeared as though they were discussing clandestine plots.
Xoek’sank’s eyes swirled orange with hints of red. “I hear the destruction is imminent, but I have something else to impart.”
Ewtk’fisk leaned so far over the table that her chest almost dipped into her tray of food. “What is it?”
“Our friends are making a fleet-wide broadcast. They will reveal the flaws in the war philosophy to the entire Tlok’mk population.”
Ewtk’fisk sat back, stunned. After so much subterfuge, to come out in the open seemed suicidal. She glanced at the Tlok’mk around her and reconsidered. Perhaps the time has come to expose those responsible for this catastrophe? What other choice does the rebellion have? If the shield comes down, the war is over. We will acquire the species capable of ultimately destroying us. And there will be nothing that can stop it from happening.
The two friends stared at each other. After trying to blend in for so long, it seemed like the ultimate defeat to no longer care.
Chapter Thirty-Two
LIANNDRA ONLY BLACKED OUT FOR a moment when the g-forces exceeded her tolerance level. It was clear that the Gryphon resistance to such surpassed her own. When she came to, the crew’s hands flew over their consoles.
For a moment, the ship hung suspended in space. Then she felt, rather than heard, a deep vibration within the hull. The stars visible on the viewscreen moved as the engines came online.
“Rigging for silence, cloaking shield activated,” the copilot spoke in her native tongue, but the engineer translated from her console near Lianndra.
“The others?” Lianndra whispered to her.
The pilot answered in English. “All five ships are mobile, in stealth mode, and rigged for silence. They are proceeding along their predetermined routes.”
The copilot added, “No signs of detection at this time.”
Lianndra looked over at the Darkon. They silently watched the stars on the viewscreen. When she glanced forward again, Lianndra stifled a gasp.
Across the screen loomed a massive shape. For the first time, she saw the exterior of the ship that had been, at one time, her home. The Mothership Gikndia appeared as an ugly, tumor-like mass sporting protrusions of every size and shape, with a hull liberally patched with discolored sections. It was as disturbingly sinister as the Gryphon ships were elegant.
It’s the home of thousands of Fang, she thought. The Mothership appeared monstrous and invincible; it oozed intimidation. They’re blobborific. Appearances shouldn’t count for much, but just looking at it makes my heart pound. I can’t believe I ever lived on that brute.
The shape loomed larger until it engulfed their viewscreen. Other than a single nervous chirp from beside her, the Darkon remained silent.
The thing’s so massive we could be quite far from it and it would still seem too close. Lianndra could not suppress a shudder.
As their little ship turned, mysterious bits of the Mothership’s infrastructure slipped by. Lianndra saw shapes resembling external doors and pointy items that could have been weapons. For all I know, they could be the latest in Fang exterior decor, she thought.
Finally, the blackness of space angled once more into view. Close by, a second Mothership hovered against the stars. And partially visible on the screen, yet another. In the blackness between them, a much smaller object hung motionless. The plasma cannon looked insignificant framed by such behemoths.
The scout ship rocked violently as a bright, red-hued beam shot toward the cannon from the nearest Mothership. Four other beams lit up the darkness of space as the sister ships fired. The five beams converged on the plasma cannon. After the briefest of hesitations, the object glowed with superheated gasses and pulsed with a brilliance making Lianndra’s eyes squint and water. A thick multihued beam shot out, blasting toward the planet and ricocheting off the shield in a blaze of spectacular color.
An agitated rustling nearby made her glance at the Darkon. They crouched on their perches with their wings raised and spread over their backs, and all spikes standing on end. Several hissed.
Pilot Berr adjusted the controls. “Advancing into strike position. Ships three and four also moving into place.” Lianndra knew those two ships housed the Healers.
Here we go. She thought again of Michael. Wish me luck. She extended her arms and the Darkon on the perches leaned to touch her, while others balanced on her. Their tiny claws dug into the bare flesh and their emotions were present in her head. She sensed agitation—and anger.
Added to the fierce desire to protect their home.
We are ready. Bring it on!
EWTK’FISK AND XOEK’SANK
REMAINED AT their table in the leisure area when the rebellion’s message came over the giant console.
They’d long since finished their meal. The two friends sat in place, waiting. Xoek’sank’s return to her station was overdue, but she had claimed a temporary constitutional problem. Both Fara wanted to see the announcement’s effect on the general population.
If anything, the leisure area had become even more crowded. The subdued voices within the packed room seemed almost eerie. When the console flickered to life on the wall, there came an immediate startled silence.
Images of the gathering battle on Tarin, as seen from the perspective of orbiting surveillance drones, flashed across the screen. The vocal message, brief but condemning, outlined the reckless draining of resources which brought their species to the point of collapse. It did not go into details on the reason for the war, only that it involved the acquisition of a special species. The message finished with a list of those most responsible for pushing the war forward despite the cost.
The Fara around the two friends stared at the console—shocked—although most would know by now how close they all were to total resource collapse. Then in mid-message, the console went dark.
The Tlok’mk technicians finally terminated the transmission, Ewtk’fisk thought.
After a short pause, it came alive once more with the reassuring visage of a Tlok’mk elder. “We apologize for the previous transmission.” Her voice sounded calm although Ewtk’fisk noticed the elder’s skin flushed with suppressed fury. “We are aware of a small faction within our population who resent our decision to continue the war. We are close to victory, and they have grown desperate enough to try to recruit members to their cause with a public announcement. Rest assured we are taking measures to secure these Fara. Do not trouble yourselves with their baseless remarks. We regret you have borne witness to such a disturbing spectacle. Please go on with your work assignments.”
