by Leslie Chase
Now it looked like the best we could hope for was a wreck worth scavenging.
“On the bright side,” she said, forcing cheer into her voice, “at least this way we know there’ll be something to find at the end of this mess.”
I nodded, acknowledging her point. If the ship had landed intact, it might well have left before we got to it.
We followed the trail of destruction, and I tried to stay alert. If there were any prytheen survivors waiting for us, they wouldn’t be friendly to us. Humans, on the other hand, would only be hostile to me. That was definitely better, but I didn’t intend to get myself shot.
I needn’t have worried. The path of wrecked trees ended with a Silver Band heavy raider, lying crashed and crumpled in a crater on the forest floor. The impact had shattered the trees around it to splinters, and we were lucky that the fires the crash had started hadn’t spread.
Scavenging birds erupted skyward as we left the trees and approached the wreck. That wasn’t a good sign, and neither was the smell. The stench of death and decay had settled over the crash site.
“Stay here,” I told Tamara. She looked rebellious, but this was no time for her to push me. I gave her a hard stare and after a long moment she relented.
“Fine. I’ll keep watch.”
If Tamara wanted to use that as the reason to stay out of the ship, I’d take it. As long as she didn’t follow me inside to face what was sure to be a scene of horrors — she’d seen enough for a lifetime already, and I would spare her any further harm.
The ship lay tilted at an angle, the windows cracked and broken, and the hatch didn’t respond to my command as I approached. I had to pry the damaged armorglass out of the cockpit window with my spear to climb inside.
Into a charnel house. The remains of the raider’s crew were scattered across the cockpit in a gory mess where their personal forcefields had failed on impact. I glanced back over my shoulder to make sure that Tamara wasn’t following — she’d turned out to be tougher than I’d expected but I doubted that she had the constitution for a sight like this.
I made my search quick. A quick check of the ship itself confirmed my fears: the battery pods were dead. The taveshi weapon had drained them completely, leaving this ship with only emergency power. And that had been used up in the crash, trying to keep the pilots alive.
But some emergency supplies survived, tucked away in a pack under the console. I hauled them to the broken window and threw the bag outside. Anything that had gotten through the crash intact wouldn’t be broken by the drop to the forest floor.
There were two blaster pistols too. That gave me a moment of hope as I wiped the displays clean. If they still functioned Tamara and I would be in a much better position.
No. The displays were as dead as the ship’s systems, the batteries drained completely. Whatever weapon the taveshi had used to disable the Silver Band’s ships hadn’t stopped there. That was a frightening level of technology, and more than that: it meant that we were stuck on this planet.
I reminded myself that Tamara’s hologram still worked. Hopefully that meant that the humans’ spaceship would still function too. If there was any hope for us to escape this world it would be the Wandering Star.
I put that thought out of my mind and discarded the useless pistols. No point in carrying useless weight, not when we had so far to travel.
On the verge of leaving I looked back at the bodies and frowned, wondering if I’d known these warriors. Their corpses were in a bad enough state that I couldn’t tell, and guilt ate at me.
Whoever they were, these warriors had been part of my family until a few cycles ago. Now, they lay dead because of my actions. If I hadn’t warned the humans, if I hadn’t helped them, they would still be alive.
Don’t fall into that trap. My father’s remembered voice was clear and I could almost feel his hand on my shoulder. They chose their path, not you. They thought the humans were defenseless and attacked them — what came of that dishonorable action is on their heads, not yours.
That sounded like what he would say, but that didn’t help me fight off my guilt. But there was nothing to do now. My course was set and turning back would only make things worse. All I could offer the dead were prayers.
“Find peace in the next life, warriors of the Band,” I said formally. Whether I still had the authority to conduct the funerary rites I didn’t know, but they couldn’t hurt. “Go to meet the ancestors and tell them you fell in honorable battle.”
Perhaps it was my imagination, but the cockpit felt a little less oppressive after I’d said the words. Perhaps their spirits had gone on to rest, perhaps it was all in my mind.
“Auric!” Tamara’s shout pulled my attention out of the fallen ship, and without hesitating I dropped out of the broken window. She had her spear leveled at the forest, and I heard movement out there amongst the trees. Something big. Bigger than the beast that had hunted us last night, perhaps. Either that, or more than one animal approached. Neither option was good.
I grabbed up my spear and stepped between her and the danger. Probably it would be a carrion eater drawn by the smell of death, but it might still see us as potential meals.
“We should move,” I said quietly. “The bodies attract scavengers.”
Not words I’d taught her. She looked confused, then down at her wrist. Her pet hologram hissed a translation at her and she paled slightly but nodded. Together we grabbed the supplies I’d found and retreated from the clearing, leaving the ship to whatever animals were prowling the forest.
A low and threatening growl followed us. That was a good sign — a hunting animal would usually be silent. A predator making noise was sending a warning, wanting us to know we were on its territory. Hopefully that meant it just wanted us to leave.
But the sound was echoed by another ahead of us, and then a third to our left.
“We’re surrounded,” Tamara said, her voice trembling and quiet. She turned to point her spear towards the underbrush behind us. Edging to the right, away from whatever was in the forest.
I put a hand on her shoulder, gripping gently but firmly and holding her back. She flinched, paused, looked around at me.
“I know this trick,” I told her, hoping she’d understand. “They are herding us.”
Tamara’s eyes widened, and she whipped the spear around to point at the gap she’d been heading to. An invitingly empty-seeming bit of forest which I knew better than to enter. I’d played that trick often, luring the enemy into an ambush with my clan.
The thought of them brought a pang to my heart. I was their alpha and they needed me, but I had left them behind to protect the humans. They would understand, of course — they were honorable warriors, protectors of the Code. I wondered how many had followed to help me, how many were stranded somewhere else on this planet.
I wished they were with me now. Even a handful of prytheen warriors at my side would make this easy. But instead I had to defend my khara from danger alone, and there was only one way I knew to defeat this trap.
Picking the direction of the loudest growl, I lunged. Leaping into the undergrowth, spear darting out, I aimed by sound rather than sight. The growl cut off in a sharp yelp of shock and pain, and then a furious creature raked its claws at me.
“Go,” I commanded Tamara, and to my relief the snap of command worked. She dashed past me, through the space I’d cleared, as the rest of the pack descended on me.
Six-limbed, fast, and dangerous, the creatures stood waist high to me. But they were spindly things, built for speed not for battle. The first one thrashed on my spear, blood spraying as I spun to face its companions.
The next pounced straight at my face, claws slashing. They were wickedly long and sharp, but before they reached me, I smashed a punch into its spindly body. It tumbled back with a howl, others rushing in to replace it.
Pulling the spear free, I stabbed at the next one. The point wasn’t sharp enough to penetrate its hide, but the impact drove it a
way.
The pack was all around me now, but none of them wanted to be first in. I’d killed one, injured another badly — none of the animals wanted to be the first to rush me. But there were too many of them for comfort. I’d certainly take some down, but if they came at me all at once I wouldn’t stand a chance of winning.
Tamara was out of the trap. That was the main thing. The rest was details.
One of them edged closer, claws scrabbling at the dirt as it readied itself to rush me. I didn’t give it the chance. Roaring a challenge, I braced my spear and charged, hoping to frighten them off. If I was too dangerous, they’d look for other prey.
But even as I leaped, I realized my mistake. Those claws weren’t made for combat as much as they were for climbing, and as I lunged at the one who’d put himself in front of me, another dropped from the canopy above me. I turned, twisting and stabbing, and managing to strike the falling animal as it struck me.
Long, sharp claws scored my arms, missed my face by inches, sent blood spraying. The beast’s weight drove it down on the spear, and the impact overbalanced me. Together, we tumbled to the floor, the rest of the pack closing in around me.
The spear fell from my hand, yanked by the weight of the dying creature. The others were too close for it now anyway. This would be a battle of claws and teeth and numbers.
I sliced the first throat to come near, kicked another animal in the face, and felt jaws close on my leg. Too many. At least I die a warrior, saving my khara.
With a yowl of pain, the jaws opened. Tamara shouted something, stabbing with her bloody spear, driving the creatures back. My heart swelled with pride at her warrior spirit even as I tried to tell her to run. What use was my sacrifice if she came back to die alongside me?
That means you can’t die yet, I told myself, rolling to my feet as the pack adjusted to the new threat. Get up, warrior, and save her.
Tamara didn’t know how to use her spear, and only the element of surprise had protected her this far. Her desperate stabs drove back the creatures in front of her, but others were circling and as soon as they had her surrounded, the fight would be over.
Not if I can help it, I thought, throwing myself back into the fray. The nearest of the climbing creatures fell under my claws, and I howled a challenge at the next. They scattered back, buying us time, and spared my khara a glance.
Uninjured, thank whatever gods watch over fools. “You should have run.”
“And then what?” Tamara demanded. “How far would I get without you?”
There was an edge to her words, one I couldn’t quite decode. This wasn’t the time to worry about it, anyway. The creatures were spread out around us now, and I caught the rustle of leaves above us. Soon enough we’d be under attack again, and I didn’t want to waste time arguing.
“When they attack, I will draw them to me,” I said. It was the only plan I could think of if she refused to run. “You pick them off with the spear.”
“That’s a terrible plan,” my khara said. “They’ll kill you even if we win. I’ve got a better idea.”
To my horror, she dropped her spear. I swore, ready for the creatures to take advantage of our sudden vulnerability. But even as they started their rush, Tamara’s hand went to her bracelet, fingers dancing over the controls.
Her little hologram blinked into existence beside her, flickering as its mouth opened in a howl that rapidly rose in pitch until I couldn’t hear it any more.
I might not be able to hear it, but the alien animals could. Screeching in pain and fear they scattered around us, one falling from the branches above as it tried to cover its ears with all of its limbs. I watched, astounded, as they fled into the underbrush.
Tamara slumped back against a tree, sinking down it’s trunk until she was sitting on the mossy ground. The hologram animal nuzzled against her hand as she reached out for it, and she muttered something encouraging to it.
“I didn’t think that would work,” she admitted after a moment. “I thought it would probably drive them mad again.”
Around us the forest was in uproar as animals reacted to the ultrasound by fleeing. I looked around in wonder, then back to my khara.
“How did you know what sound to use?” I asked her, crouching next to her and looking down at the hologram that had saved our lives. It looked back almost smugly, and I couldn’t help smiling. The little virtual pet had earned my thanks again.
“I guessed,” Tamara said and grinned shakily and searching for the right words. “Mr. Mews recorded the creature last night.”
That made sense. The predator’s roar would have harmonics that scared the local animals, and if she’d managed to work that into the ultrasound I could see how that would work.
A huge gamble — it could just as easily have driven the predators into a frenzy. But given the danger, it had been a risk worth taking. And it had paid off.
I patted the hologram’s translucent head, the faint force-field effect tingling under my fingers. Mr. Mews wriggled happily, lifelike enough to make me smile again. “We should not wait here though, they might come back. We need to get some distance from their territory before we camp.”
Tamara didn’t look happy about that but she didn’t argue either. Pulling herself to her feet, she picked up her spear and we cautiously made our way away from the ambush site. Let the hunters find other prey.
Once we were well away from the wreck, I found a clearing where we could stop to open the pack I’d salvaged. It held the usual essentials: survival blankets for cold weather, nutrient bars, a simple inertial mapping system, a first aid kit — and most importantly of all, a communicator.
I whispered a prayer as I pressed the power switch. The emergency communicator was shielded, and maybe that would have kept it safe from whatever weapon had drained the power supplies.
No. Of course I couldn’t be that lucky. I pressed the switch again, but there was no response. Whatever the taveshi had done, it was thorough.
“Let me see,” Tamara said, taking the communicator out of my hands and turning it over, frowning. Pulling a tool from her belt she managed to pry open the casing and looked inside. A bright smile spread across her face as she worked.
She muttered something in her own language, taking off her armband and opening it to get at the circuits inside. The hologram cat vanished as she started to work on the internal circuitry that maintained it, and I frowned.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Mews will be back,” she told me, looking up. My frown deepened. It wasn’t as though I was worried about the little virtual pet. Or at least, I wouldn’t admit to it easily.
But I could see what she was doing, and it was a good idea. Her short-range communicator could use the emergency comm as an amplifier, and maybe she could get in touch with other human survivors.
Without satellites in orbit to relay the messages, it wouldn’t be able to reach far. Still, it was much better than nothing — if she could get it to work. Leaving her to do her best, I patched my injuries with the first aid kit. Sprayskin sealed and disinfected the wounds; I would be left with impressive scars but nothing worse.
“Done,” Tamara said eventually, triumph warring with fear in her voice. Not fear of failure, I realized. Fear of what she might find when she powered up the hybrid communicator.
At the moment we didn’t know if there was anyone else broadcasting. Once she switched that on, we’d find out — and what would it mean if there were no signals? If no humans were calling out on the radio?
At the moment she had hope that the other humans had survived the Wandering Star’s crash. As soon as she used that device, it could be ripped from her.
I walked to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Tamara, we saw the colony pods launch,” I reminded her. “Even if there’s no one in range, some of your people will have made it to the surface safely.”
She didn’t look convinced but she nodded anyway. With a quick, decisive motion she pressed the switch and static roared
from the speakers. Tamara winced, dialing down the volume and searching through the frequencies.
On the hybrid system she’d set up that wasn’t easy. Signals faded in and out as she adjusted the set up. Sometimes we heard the steady beeping of an automated call, other times a clear but empty channel. It took forever to find a voice.
When she did tune into one, my heart sank. I recognized that cold, smug voice, and it had no business on a human frequency. I’d hoped that I’d heard the last of it in orbit.
Of course I wouldn’t be that lucky, I thought as Zaren spoke.
“— gather at the human ship,” Zaren’s voice crackled over the communicator. “Follow this signal to find it. Warriors of the Silver Band, rejoice. We have won a great victory. This world is ours!”
I resisted the urge to throw the device against the nearest tree. All of this and he’d still managed to win, to take the humans and their ship captive. Tamara’s people would be enslaved at best, slaughtered at worst.
I hadn’t saved them.
Tamara’s hand touched my arm, startling me. She might not know the prytheen language Zaren spoke, but she could see the effect it was having on me and she offered me comfort without question.
I shrugged off her hand. How could I accept her sympathy when I’d failed her so badly?
“Auric, what’s wrong?” She wasn’t discouraged. Not yet.
“Zaren’s alive,” I told her. I didn’t want to tell her, but she deserved to know. “He has the Wandering Star, and he’s calling the rest of the Silver Band to him.”
I expected her to recoil. But instead her eyes lit up.
“You don’t understand,” I said. “He’s seized your ship, your people.”
“No, you don’t understand,” she replied, grabbing my hand and squeezing. “I was afraid that they were all dead. If he’s captured the ship, that means that there’s a ship left to take. The colonists are still alive.”