Through a small porthole, they could see the base that Hubard and Seneca had set up. Ice had built up along the exterior, making the surface of the main ship, parked at the base, gleam in the light of the Verbashan sun. The wind had polished it smooth. Irane struggled to guide the ship towards the docking bay. The small craft groaned from the effort. They could hear the engines sputtering. Such a small ship wasn’t built to endure so much strain. They had already pushed it more than a typical pilot would have risked.
“We’re not going to make it.” Cherish held her breath. Her sensors were still having issues, but even she could tell that the angle was wrong. If the wind kept up, they would be bashed against the side of the larger ship.
“Wait!” Cierra pressed herself against the side of the ship. She made sure that as much of her body was touching the craft as possible.
Cherish looked at her as if the time in the monastery dungeon had left her addled. “What are you doing?”
“My gift!” Cierra closed her eyes. She willed herself to feel the ship, to share her gift with the craft around her.
“You’re trying to teleport out of here? Why? So you can save yourself?” Cherish narrowed her eyes at Cierra.
“What? No! My gift isn’t teleporting. It’s deflection!”
The ship careened towards the docking bay doors. Whether it was due to Cierra’s gift of deflection, or something else, the wind seemed to stop its howling for a moment. The craft managed to slide inside, unharmed. The bay doors closed behind them with a hiss.
“That was lucky!” came Irane’s voice over the intercom. He had been so focused on not crashing that he hadn’t seen Cierra move from her seat.
Cherish looked at Cierra askew. “You… think… you actually deflected the wind?”
Cierra opened her mouth, but for a long moment no words came out. “I don’t know. I mean, I think so. The biggest thing I’ve deflected so far’s a blade…”
“Pressure’s equalized. Hatch opening,” said Irane.
Hubard toddled out to meet the shaken crew. “We weren’t sure whether you were going to be able to bring it in safely or not.”
“Neither were we.” Cierra cast an aggravated glance at Irane.
“I thought you were supposed to be on Durga,” Cherish spoke up uncertainly. Her voice seemed to waver slightly.
Seneca peered at her over a tablet. “The council changed our destination after the teams were deployed. It was decided that changing the base location would be an extra measure of security in case there were any other traitors in our midst.”
“Why did they choose Idagia? It’s a frozen wasteland here.” Cierra’s arms were crossed over her chest, and her lips were in a twisted pout.
Hubard started to answer her question, but Seneca piped up before he had the chance. “That’s exactly why they chose it. This planet is mostly uninhabitable. It only passes close to the Verbashan sun twice a year. We should be crossing the tipping point tomorrow, actually.”
“Thank Batumah for that!” Hubard rubbed his swollen knuckles. “The cold does a number on my joints, and the life support has almost been fully exhausted. We’ve had to reduce the interior heat some to extend the usage. Things should start to melt as soon as next week.”
“The Verbash system is where Naia was from, wasn’t it?” Cherish’s voice cracked this time. Her system errors were beginning to be more obvious. She lowered her eyes, self-consciously.
Hubard looked older, and more strained. “Yes. Sirsette was located here.” He glanced around the group. He pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “Where’s Makram? Did he die in the attack?”
“Worse than that.” It was the first time Theo had spoken in hours. He was standing apart from the group, slightly.
“What’s worse than death?” Seneca snorted. As a medical attendant, he couldn’t think of anything being much worse than dying.
Theo and Cherish shared a grave expression. With a shuddering breath, she told the group what had happened. “Makram was fighting beside Karl. He tried to kill me.”
“What?” Hubard balked at the information.
“It’s true. I wouldn’t have believed it, if I hadn’t seen it myself. To be honest, I’m still having trouble believing it.” She looked at the floor. Makram’s actions and words still clung to her like a bad smell. Of all the people, she never would have thought he would have betrayed her trust. The memory of him calling her a cyborg, with the look of hatred in his eyes, made her stomach twist into knots.
“There has to be more to that.” Hubard shook his head, unwilling to believe it. “It’s Makram we’re talking about.”
Cierra scowled. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but lately everything had been falling apart. “Yes, and that’s how we felt about Hojae, too. It seems like no matter what we do, we don’t know who to trust, and good people die.”
Irane tilted his head pensively. “Perhaps it is your willingness to believe in the good intentions of others that sets you apart from people like Karl. Maybe that is why you were granted a gift, when Karl was not.”
“Gift or not, I don’t know how much more treachery we can take.” She looked away from Irane.
Irane wasn’t typically on field missions with them. He couldn’t comprehend the bond that developed between field operatives from just one mission. There was a lot of trust that went into working with someone undercover. So far, she had lost two commanders: Yareck was killed in action, and Makram was a traitor. Even Hojae had pulled the wool over their eyes. On the last mission alone, they had lost Danthois, Chanta, and Philo. The deaths echoed the loss of her planet, and made her feel empty. That hollowness, along with Theo’s distant behavior, was making her abrasive. She had grown accustomed to having him close by during their time at the monastery. Back on Kinyah mountain, pretending to be his wife had made her depend on the comfort of his presence more than she would like to admit.
Still having trouble grasping the new development, Hubard tried to shift the conversation. “Why don’t we move further inside? My aching joints need more warmth than this docking bay is programmed to provide right now.”
“Could we have some food?” Cherish stuttered again. The cold seemed to be draining her energy reserves more than usual. Seneca narrowed his eyes at Cherish, but he didn’t say anything.
“Of course!” Hubard was glad for the new topic.
The group moved further into the Carbonari base. Inside the main living space, tables with various tools and electronics scattered about cluttered up the interior. Slabs of Relissarium were stacked near the work spaces. It was clear that the two scientists had been conducting experiments on the mineral while the others were in the monasteries.
The smell of food drifted over to them. Rix, one of the robots that never seemed too far from Hubard, was placing a steaming pot of meat on a table with chairs lined up around it. Piles of vegetables and assorted sauces lined the dining table. The crew helped themselves to the meal before them. The two extra Carbonari members that Irane had managed to rescue from another monastery were huddled close to one another while they ate.
Hubard suddenly seemed to see them for the first time. “Oh, hello. I didn’t notice you before. Irane mentioned that he managed to pick up some more operatives.”
The man spoke up. His voice was quieter than expected, and felt like velvet on their ears. “I’m Fabois. My wife, Makka, and I are very thankful for your help. After the attack started, we weren’t sure if anyone would pick up our radioed distress signal.”
Irane smiled, and reached out a comforting hand to touch Fabois on the shoulder. “Batumah must have been looking over you.”
Cierra watched them warily. “How did you end up with the Brotherhood?” The two hadn’t spoken for most of the flight. The little they had said was whispered between them. She had been more concerned with what had happened at the monastery than eavesdropping on the new couple among them.
Makka lowered her eyes, and for a second Cierra thought s
he recognized the heartache on the other woman’s face. Fabois took his wife’s hand, and answered for them both. “Our son was killed in a fight with a militiaman working for the empire. We joined the cause to avenge his death.”
Theo picked at his food without really eating much. His jaw was firmly set, and his eyes were sullen. “There are a lot of deaths that need to be avenged.”
Cierra started to reach out to him, the same way that Fabois had reached out to Makka, but she stopped herself. On the way up the mountain, she had been worried about Theo getting caught up in their cover story. Now she was worried she had done the same thing. So much pretending had done a number on her. Cierra fought to repress the feelings that were beginning to bubble up. If she allowed herself to continue on that path, she would only be opening up to more pain.
Seneca cut his food into precise, equal pieces. “Irane told us about Philo and the others when he radioed us for help. The council was greatly upset by it.”
“The council was upset by it?” Theo stared at the doctor in disgust. “We just witnessed the destruction of hundreds of innocent people, and that’s all you have to say?” He stood up, shoved his chair back under the table, and started to walk off.
Cierra was already on her feet, following him, before she even realized it. “Theo! Theo, where are you going?” She managed to catch up to him in a hallway.
“Don’t follow me, Cierra.”
“Theo, we don’t even know where anything—”
She was cut off as he pinned her against the wall. His hands held her shoulders firmly, and his face was only inches from hers. “Don’t follow me. Everything I get involved with turns to ash around me. I can’t be responsible for that happening to…” Theo let his words trail off. Her green eyes were staring up at him. It was a mixture of hope and pain. For the smallest second, the darkness inside of him lessened. He reached up to brush a stray strand of hair away from her face, but stopped himself. Theo pulled away from her, and continued storming off in the direction he had been going.
Rix appeared in front of Cierra. Hubard must have sent him after them. “Don’t worry. I will show him to his chambers.” The little robot zoomed after Theo.
Cierra pressed her hand over her chest. The way he had looked at her made her heart race. It was unsettling to feel those emotions stirring inside of her. She struggled to press them down, and turned to walk back to the dining room. So that was what was wrong with him? He felt like everything was his fault. Cierra resisted the urge to track him down and make him talk to her. Right now, he wanted to be alone. She could give him that, at least. Maybe once he had a chance to process things, he would be more willing to open up to her.
The discussion at the table had heated up in the short time she had been away. Seneca was talking over Hubard in a loud, quarrelsome way. “The council has not condoned any future missions at this time. It would be arrogant to assume that matters should be taken into our own hands.”
“If the council knew their heads from their hind ends, then they would have figured out about the imperials before we lost most of our remaining resources!” Hubard’s face was red. Cierra had never seen him talk badly about the council before. If Hubard was that upset, things must have really been dire.
Cherish was trying to keep the peace, while still supporting Hubard. “What if we just reach out to them? Maybe they don’t even know that there are still people willing to act. After what happened at the monasteries, they may not think anyone is up for the risk.”
Seneca took a deep breath, and straightened the silverware in front of him. “No, no, no. We were instructed not to contact them again, until they got in touch with us first. There are far too many holes in our information right now. The council doesn’t want to act until we have better intel. There are rules in place for a reason.”
Irane raised his eyebrow. “Isn’t it possible that the rules were put in place when the situation was different, and now that the circumstances have changed, the rules must change, as well?” Seneca’s cheeks filled with air, but he said nothing. Without a retort, to Irane’s question, he went about refolding his napkin in precisely even segments.
“Then it’s settled.” Hubard shoved his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.
“What’s settled?” Cierra took her seat, back at the table.
Hubard looked around the table, at everyone that was gathered. “We’re going to do a retaliation mission.”
She nodded, with her lips in a thin line. “I’m in. How are we going to do it?”
Cherish took a swig from her cup. “Could we maybe build a bomb? I think some Relissarium shrapnel would do those imperials some good.”
Hubard waved his hand in the air. “That won’t work. Relissarium is a very stable molecule. That’s why it is hard enough to cut through almost everything. The only reason I can even shape the material into weapons, or smaller pieces is because I use a thin beam of energy created by colliding dark matter particles. Dark matter is its own antiparticle. Theoretically, the reaction results in a yield of one-hundred percent energy conversion, but naturally the actual yield isn’t that efficient. It is almost impossible to create a perfect laboratory environment. However, used correctly, the little bit of energy I can create from it, is powerful enough to cut, and shape Relissarium.” He paused for a moment. “The only way to even possibly consider a bomb using Relissarium would involve a massive amount of dark matter, and the danger to those involved would be more than you could imagine right now.”
“What do you have in mind then?” Cierra picked at her food. The last time she had eaten, she had ended up being poisoned. Food was still a bit unappetizing.
“I’ve had a few breakthroughs.” Hubard stood up from the dinner table and walked over to one of the other work tables he had obviously taken over during his stay on the base.
“Now?” Seneca was exasperated. “Didn’t we talk about not bringing work to the dinner table? You’re going to get grease all over everything, again!”
“Pipe down! I’m not bringing it over there! I can show them from here.”
Cherish leaned over to get a better view around the other guests. “What is it?”
“This,” Hubard hefted a thin sheet of Relissarium up, “is a new armor I’ve been working on. It can be used to cover ships, bases, soldiers, and anything else that needs to be protected. If we’d had this before, think of all the lives we could have saved. It takes a lot of time to form interlocking sheets that still allow for movement, but eventually, if the council will invest in the process, we should be able to make it in larger amounts. I’m also going to need more raw materials if we are going to be able make anything better than a chest plate.”
Fabois leaned forward in awe. “That would help so many people! If our son had such technology, he may have survived.”
Nodding, Hubard placed the sheet of Relissarium back on his work table. “I still haven’t been able to find anything that might make the substance turn invisible like you said you saw, Cierra.”
Seneca took a small bite. “I suggested that perhaps if the molecules could be vibrated fast enough, maybe they would shimmer, like a heat mirage in the desert.”
“And I told you,” Hubard rounded on the other scientist crankily, “that the amount of energy required for that is currently beyond our capabilities.”
“Excuse—” Makka’s quiet voice was lost in the squabble.
The doctor scowled. “Just because you haven’t been able to do it, doesn’t mean that it isn’t possible!”
Hubard’s face was getting red again. “That technology would—at best—be years off! We simply haven’t the capacity! I’m trying to find applications to help us now!”
Makka tried again, with no avail. “Excuse me. If I could just—”
Seneca gripped his silverware in a balled-up fist. “A lot of good you’ve done so far! One measly sheet of—”
“QUIET!” Makka yelled across the room.
Everything fell silent. All
eyes were on her. Swallowing hard under the weight of their stares, she slowly became invisible. Gasps filled the silence. Cierra had seen it once before with Aphano, but she hadn’t made the connection until now. Thinking over everything, it began to make more sense.
Cierra looked at Hubard, with wide eyes. “It wasn’t the Relissarium!”
“What?” He looked from Cierra back to Makka, who was slowly becoming visible again.
“It’s a Yasta gift!” Cierra tapped her hands on the table, excitedly. “I saw it back at the monastery! One of the gifts is making yourself invisible.”
Hubard seemed highly intrigued by the new development. He stood up, and walked over to where Makka was sitting. Peering at the new, gifted woman through his spectacles, he continued talking to Cierra. “Do you think all of the ones you saw on Relisse had this gift? Is it common among them?”
Cierra thought back to their landing. “Actually, I have a theory about that, too. What if a gift can be spread to whatever the gifted person is touching? That would explain why her clothes became invisible, too. It wasn’t just her skin. I had a similar experience with the ship when we were trying to land.”
“How so?” Seneca seemed unbelieving, but at least he had stopped bickering with Hubard for a few moments.
“The wind was battering us around.” Cierra remembered the rough ride they had endured. “It looked like we weren’t going to make it. My gift is different than hers. Mine is deflection. I leaned against the side of the ship, and I willed my gift to spread, to envelop the ship. Then, suddenly, it was like the wind had no effect on us, like it was diverted around us. It was as if I had deflected it.”
“Interesting.” Hubard reached out a finger to touch Makka. “May I?” She slowly nodded. Hubard touched her arm, with his pointer finger. Embarrassed, Makka closed her eyes. Her body faded out of sight. Hubard let out a tickled laugh as his body went invisible as well. “Oh! This is delightful!” He pulled his finger away, and reappeared immediately. “I think this could come in quite handy! I’ve been looking at a few schematics for one of the imperial garrisons that attacked the monasteries. With such a gift at our disposal, we could make an attack work to our benefit.”
The Relissarium Wars Omnibus Page 42