by Dan Allen
She brushed her hand against her forehead, but the gash had already been closed by the sayathi in the pool. They had formed some kind of thin, hard layer, like the secretions which built up the coral and the sayathenite nodules.
Dana climbed to her feet, and in the light glancing through a gap in the rock, spied something she could hardly believe.
Wood!
Some adventurous kids from Shoul Falls had apparently used the cavern for a hideout the previous summer.
And food!
Dana lifted a bag hanging from an outcropping. Inside was a mix of dried fruit, marmar jerky, and nuts.
Dana shoved a handful of nuts into her mouth and chewed ferociously. Then she knelt, and with shivering hands, struck sparks from the flint onto a nest of tinder, all the while blessing the adventurous kids who had dared trespass on the sacred mountain.
Flames licked up the tinder into the kindling. The sticks burned brightly, but the dry hardwood gave off little smoke. In moments, the shelter of the cavern was host to a raging fire. The air was smoky but breathable. Dana pressed close to the warmth of the fire, driving heat into her shivering body.
Dana hung her shirt and socks over the flickering flames, taking care to make sure they didn’t catch fire. When they were dry and warm, she put them back on.
When the kazen realized they couldn’t find her and that she had the stone, they would return to the sanctum. They had to defend the heated exalting chamber, in case Dana tried to use it.
She smiled.
But I’m not going back to the sanctum.
Not yet.
She needed clothes. She needed warmth. She needed privacy.
She knew just the place.
Chapter 30
Monique’s voice sounded in Jet’s earpiece. “Shadow to Speaker for the Dead, corridor is clear. Confirm status. Over.”
Approaching the Xahnan atmosphere, with his hands encased in several centimeters of ablative carbon hull sealant along with the rest of his body, Jet activated his transmitter with a coded thought pattern and replied, “Roger, Shadow. This is Speaker for the Dead. Status is three green lights. Mission is go. Over.”
With Jet in the jump cocoon and glued to the back of Shuttle 23, the orbital maneuvering thrusters were on remote control. Waiting for the go-ahead from Monique felt like the longest thirty minutes of his life.
All the while the ASP dropship from Torsica was jetting over the Sayathi Sea, getting closer to Aesica.
The space jump kit used the shuttle’s entire supply of hull breach patch material to weave a carbon-fiber cocoon around Jet. Ships never carried premade cocoons for lack of space and in case they needed the materials to make a repair.
One spinner was fast enough to shroud a dozen marines on a covert mission, as long as the first few to get their shrouds weren’t claustrophobic.
The hard-ablative shell could hardly contain his excitement as adrenaline ran a steady stream of exhilaration into his veins.
“Hey, Jet,” Monique said. “That satellite that we burned up left a gap in our communications relay, so the Nautilus has given me a few personal messages to relay—they’re already over the horizon now.”
“Alright. Let’s get this over with.”
“Dormit says, ‘Ride ‘em cowboy.’”
“I am not a cowboy.”
“Also, the Caprian legal counsel wishes to express his sincere desire that you do not combust on entry. And that if you do, that it happens quickly and you do not suffer for long.”
“Great.”
“Teea says, ‘I’ll bet your nose itches.’”
Jet wrinkled his nose in vain. “That is so not funny. I’m not laughing. Nobody’s laughing.”
Monique giggled. “I’m laughing.”
“Again, thank you for the obvious. Push the go button already.”
“Shadow to Speaker,” called Monique’s voice. “Launch window is open. Commencing remote pre-ignition. Be careful.”
“I don’t have a choice,” Jet said. “I’m stuck in a—”
The launch boosters took the air from Jet’s lungs. Strapped to the back of the shuttle, he would be shielded from at least some of the heat of air braking.
Until he broke loose.
Minutes of regulated silence passed with only brief status updates sounding in his earpiece as Xahna grew larger and larger.
Jet considered booting Angel to listen to her commentary, but thought silence suited the moment. Then the press of his back against the jump cocoon signaled contact with the upper atmosphere.
“Air braking now,” Jet reported as the pressure mounted to a level he hadn’t felt since the oxygen-rich atmosphere of Rodor.
“Plasma cone expanding—going to lose you, Shadow. See you on the other side.”
Buffeting shook Jet’s teeth in his clenched jaw as the radio chatter gave way to static. The heat was building to a dangerous level but not something he couldn’t endure. He had trained in the thermal chamber, building himself up for reentry.
Not reentry.
First entry.
I’m the first alien this close to Xahna.
As the heat mounted, the epoxy holding Jet to the shuttle would melt, and he would slip free.
The buffeting of the shuttle stopped for one brief moment, then hit Jet like an industrial hammer drill. “Re-re-re-leased,” Jet reported. The carbon-fiber capsule oriented in the air friction so that he was feet first.
Jet grunted to keep the blood in his head. “Don’t pass out. Come on!”
Somewhere behind him, the shuttle would be breaking up in a stream of debris over the shallow sea between Torsica and Aesica.
Finally, the pressure against his feet began to slacken, but the temperature was extreme. He felt as though he were being cooked alive. “Shadow, this is Speaker. Reaching terminal velocity.”
“Roger, Speaker. Your trajectory is off. Landing zone is now fifty klicks beyond target. You’re headed for the mountains.”
Fifty klicks! It would take him a day and a half to get back to Shoul Falls. It was time he couldn’t spare. That renegade with the bloodstone needed him.
Gotta lose altitude . . . or some mass.
“Requesting permission to alter flight trajectory.”
“Speaker, you are not approved for high altitude wing suit operation.”
“Jettisoning ablation armor,” Jet said. He punched the early release button and held it for three seconds.
“Acknowledged,” Monique said. “You’re going rogue. How long did it take—fifteen minutes?”
Electrical pulses shimmered along the edges of the jump cocoon, triggering micro explosives that shredded the remaining armor into thin filaments of carbon fiber. Light flooded his eyes with an expansive view of tall, white clouds.
Jet paced his breathing. He only had the air in his suit, now. His altimeter ticked off distance from the ocean as he shot through the upper atmosphere toward the coast.
Jet activated his tactical AI. “Angel, help me!”
“Loading ballistics. Running sims.” Angel’s voice sounded in his earpiece. “Jet are you nuts! Humans are not missiles.”
“Water under the bridge, Angel. I need data!”
The clouds thinned. Ocean and land appeared below.
Falling was a lot less scary when you couldn’t see what you were going to hit.
“Deploy drag chute in five, four, three, two—that was one second early, you idiot human.”
“Acknowledged.” The drag chute jerked Jet backward just as the green coast of Aesica flashed past. He ripped through a layer of clouds and continued his free fall.
“Jet, the winds are too strong. They’ll take you beyond the landing zone. You have to release your chute.”
Jet yanked on the chute release.
“I believe that was your main chute.”
“Crap.” So there was a point to getting certified for this sort of thing. “Oh well. I’ll wing it down. Deploying wing suit.” Jet extended his arms, s
tretching thin fabric wings between his arms and body, and between his legs.
“Enjoy your high speed landing,” Angel shouted over the roar in his ears. “Just don’t lead with your head. I want to survive this.”
Free fall turned to a glide as Jet used his hands and feet like rudders to guide his trajectory.
As he soared more than forty thousand feet over the coastal jungle, Jet arched his back, attempting to eek more distance out of the glide.
“You do realize that if you hit one of those rhynoid vines, it will kill me as well?” Angel said.
“Well, now that you mention it,” Jet toned sarcastically. He grunted as he held his arms against the force of the wind. With Jet falling quickly and the terrain rising into rolling hills and finally sharp mountains, he rapidly ran out of altitude. “Hey, that’s the falls. Looks like we’re going to make it.”
Jet angled his trajectory to track north of the city. The alpine forest was all but untouched save the occasional clearing or trail.
“This place is pristine.”
“Like Avalon before ASP,” Angel said. “Jet, I’m highlighting your landing zone in your reticle.”
“That’s tiny. Is that the best you can do—a patch of snow?”
“Look, I’m not the one who dropped his landing chute over the sea.”
“Keep it up, and I’m going to dial down your snark setting.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Angel paused. “You’re coming in too low. Have you been snacking on transuranic elements?”
“Brought a little extra ammo—just in case.” Jet arched his back and spread his arms as wide as he could, but the more he slowed, the steeper his glide became.
“Jet, watch out!”
Not the trees again.
“Impact!”
* * *
In the dim light of early morning, Dana left the cave at a desperate sprint. The sun was not yet up, and chill winter air nipped her skin. In bare socks, she charged down the slope, unable to hide the much larger bloodstone she held in her fist. She quickly reached the cover of the pine forest, heedless of the damage she was doing to her feet.
Running like her life depended on it was the only way to keep from freezing to death. It was her will against the chill.
Run. Harder.
Her target was the infirmary. Dana had visited it with Kaia on her way to the ranger’s stables, where Kaia had picked up some ingredients for treating injuries. Two nurses were there and had changed into drab hospital garments to begin their shifts.
Their spare clothes would be in the changing room.
Warm clothes. The thought spurred Dana’s racing heart as she headed for the infirmary in the early morning light.
But she had to be careful. She had the stone now—stolen right in front of the kazen. As far as they knew, she was a blood traitor. And they would treat her like it unless she could prove that somebody else—like Korren—was trying to get it for themselves.
If she was captured, they would take no chances. She would be iced on angel’s kiss and then executed.
I can’t let that happen, Dana thought. Shoul Falls needed her as ka. All of Aesica needed her.
Dana followed the route she had used the first time she snuck into the city, racing past the lake below the falls and climbing over the wall.
Again the streets were empty and silent. Lamps flickered in the windows of warm houses. When Dana reached the infirmary, she opened the unlocked door and crept inside.
The duty nurse was still asleep on her cot.
Dana shut the door softly and stepped carefully into the main room. She headed to the prep room in the back and carefully shut the door behind her. The room had a small window through which dawn light trickled in. In the center of the room was a wash basin. The water from the previous night was cold. But Dana braved it in the name of survival, scrubbing herself with soap. She scrubbed her hair especially, attempting to rid herself of the smell of smoke, then toweled off and dumped her dirty shirt in the laundry bin.
She pulled on the duty nurse’s trousers, shirt, and shoes, and snuck back into the main room and hid under an empty bed with used sheets piled on either side of it.
She forced herself to lie still.
It’s going to work.
Soon, exhaustion took her. Dana woke with a start at the sound of the city siren.
Dana opened her eyes. From the light she could see from the bed, it seemed it was at least mid-morning.
There was the sound of scuffling as the duty nurse walked into the patient room. “We’ve been quarantined by the civic guard,” the nurse announced, probably to the few elders in the infirmary who were roused by the siren. “We’ll just wait inside until the all-clear.”
They’ll search every building in town, Dana thought. One by one.
A door knock sounded, followed approaching boots.
“Your roster of patients, please. Four is all?”
“Yes, the three you see. But we had one pass away yesterday, in that bed over there.”
So that was why the used sheets were on the floor.
Perfect. They wouldn’t want to look too closely at a bed where someone had just died.
“I see. We’ll just check the back room.”
As the boots passed, stepping well clear of her hiding place, Dana gave the slightest smirk.
“No one in here. Mark it clear. Check the back alley. Good day, nurse. Sorry to bother you and your patients.”
“I do hope you find the—who are you looking for?”
“The Norrian. She’s wanted for stealing the bloodstone. Capital offense. She took it right in front of the kazen. There were three witnesses.”
“Dear me, do you mean Dana?”
“Of course.”
“She’s an angel. She would never—”
Dana’s heart leapt. The nurse saw her like no one ever had. An angel—a gift of the Creator. She wasn’t a criminal. She was merely keeping the stone from the hands of whoever Sindar had tried to keep it from. Korren, probably.
“Well, she did. And she’ll die by foreign water. Vetas-ka’s fleet is already on the Sayathi Sea. He’s coming for the stone. If we don’t find the girl and the stone, we risk losing it to him.”
The door shut, and after several minutes attending the other patients with breakfast, the nurse’s footsteps came to Dana’s bed. She bent down and looked at Dana. “You are here.”
Dana drew her finger to her lips.
The nurse choked a surprised cry. Then she whispered, “Do you have the stone?”
Dana slid out from under the bed to see that the other patients were still prone in their beds, before she whispered, “It’s safe. A kazen is trying to get it for himself. I have to keep it from them.”
The nurse nodded, somehow believing every word. “It was bound to happen. We should have chosen a ka. I always told them someone would get greedy.” She checked the door. “Well the civic guard is gone now. What will you do? I can’t keep you in here.”
Dana sighed resignedly, trying to sound sincere. “I’ll have to go work things out with the civic guard. It’s not like they said. The stone was in danger. I saved it.”
“I hope that’s true,” said the nurse. “But why are you wearing my clothes?”
“Sorry. I was wet and cold,” Dana said. “I’ll just go change out of them.” When Dana got to the back room, intending to escape out the back door, she noticed the cubby that held alchemical agents used by the nurses. It must have been where Kaia had gotten her supplies.
What if I’m captured?
Wouldn’t hurt to have a little insurance.
Dana claimed a small vial from a labelled cubby and tucked it into her tie-top between her breasts. She prayed the vial’s lid wouldn’t come loose.
With the nurse waiting outside the door, Dana stowed the bloodstone in a laundry bag with spare sheets, then opened the window, climbed on the wash counter, and wriggled out, keeping the bag close to her chest.
The bac
k alley was empty. The quarantine had not yet been lifted. Dana headed out of the alley, across the street, and back toward the way she had come in over the climbable section of wall.
The last obstacle was the east quarter zone office.
Dana ducked behind a barrel as two civic guards emerged.
“It’s not just that,” said the older of the two men, who bore a handlebar mustache of silver hair that matched his sifa. “The citizen council will destroy the bloodstone the moment they get their hands on it. Twice now they’ve lost it.”
Dana’s heart stung at the words. I can’t let that happen. Not after all I went through to save it.
Yet here she was, running away with the gathered will of an entire city—more than twenty thousand souls. It didn’t belong to her. Yet, she had it in the name of protecting it. But from whom? The citizen committee had ordered that it be destroyed.
But hadn’t things changed since she had returned? Hadn’t they seen that they could fight, that they had to fight? Hadn’t they seen that she could lead them?
Dana’s heart stung so deeply, it was as though a dagger had been thrust into her.
Am I not good enough?
“And what about the girl?” asked the younger soldier.
The older man, probably an officer, if not the head of the civic guard, shook his head. “Even if they spare her—which isn’t likely—the Norrians have demanded her extradition.”
What? Dana’s already strained heart skipped a beat. Norr was demanding she be returned for trial. And that would mean the punishment for not just greeder theft but blood-binding—execution by foreign water.
“The official notice just arrived today,” the man said, clasping his hands behind his back and setting his jaw, as if to suppress some tremor in his fingers or lip. “They sent an official and something like twelve rangers to bring her back.”
“Twelve rangers—what for?”
“To make sure they get what they want.”
“Since when do we do what the Norrians say?” said the younger officer.
“Norr, we can handle. But the situation has changed.” The older man looked the junior officer in the eye. “They claimed they’ll appeal to the Aesican Pantheon if we don’t comply.”
“But,” blustered the younger man, whose goatee was as unimpressive as the whine in his voice, “we don’t have a ka to represent us. They’ll side with the Norrians—they supply most of the large sayathenite for North Aesica. The stuff from the coast is too small for mechanodrons.”