Something nagged at the back of his mind. He’d forgotten something. It nagged at him, just as if he’d left the oven on at home or forgot to lock the front door. It would be a problem if he couldn’t remember, but the images danced just out of his reach.
The captain was on the bridge when he arrived, talking to Helm about their ship’s course. He waited by the captain’s chair with his hands clasped behind his back. The viewscreen at the front of the bridge showed an image of Cavey, spinning on its axis. He stepped closer to the screen. His right hand stretched toward it unbidden. He yanked it back and squeezed his hands together again, hoping no one had noticed.
The motion got Captain Ronasuli’s attention. She wrapped up her talk with Helm and joined him by her station.
“How did it go, Mike? You were in there a long time.”
“Fine. I had to use more caution, being solo,” he said. The words dripped from his tongue without thinking. “It went well enough.”
No, that didn’t seem right. He was intact and conscious, but the mission hadn’t gone smoothly. He’d forgotten most of it. He examined that idea, trying to decide how to break that to the captain. He’d have to try again or send for backup. Both options would be major disappointments.
“Did you find anything?”
His memory blipped. For a moment, he pictured a magnificent dragon, terrible and beautiful, like none he’d ever seen. It had been incredible and terrifying…
And it was inside him.
The memory returned like a slap. The attack, his capture, the way the dragon had somehow melded itself to his mind. He felt it like an itch he couldn’t quite reach.
“It’s complicated,” he said, putting it mildly.
She frowned. “Complicated how?”
“I wasn’t able to get a clear reading. There was something down there, I do know that,” he said, then his stomach shriveled a little. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. He’d wanted to tell her about the dragon, to warn her, but the words wouldn’t come.
He was impossibly compromised. He’d never heard of this happening before, but then, how would he? If a dragon had done this before, he was certain it wouldn’t let anyone find out. There was a new itch in the back of his mind, though it was hard to say if it was real or his imagination. Maybe there was no difference, when he had a dragon in his head.
The captain waited. He felt another urge to speak and realized the urges had been there all along. The need to smooth things over, to convince the captain everything was under control…when he knew nothing was.
“So, what do you need? Do we move closer?” Captain Ronasuli scrutinized his face. “Not that I know your business, but you look like you could use some sleep.”
“I’ll sleep when we’re done. I don’t just need the ship to get closer. I need to be on the planet itself,” he said. Deep down, he felt the thrumming approval of the dragon. Dante wanted to be sick; instead, he gave the captain a half-bow then returned to his cabin to wait.
***
By the time they reached Cavey’s surface, Dante had tried everything. He’d gone through all the novice exercises to clear his mind of everything that wasn’t essentially him. He’d tried talking to the dragon and ordering it to leave. He’d even begged. No matter what he said or did, the dragon only repeated its demand.
Through it all, Dante attempted to find a weak point in the dragon’s control, to find a way to slip free even if it meant leaving his body to the dragon. His astral body stayed firmly in place no matter what he tried. He was trapped in his body with only a dragon for company.
The shuttle landed and, after a moment, the ground crew disembarked. Dante stood, slower to follow. Captain Ronasuli emerged from the cockpit.
“Everything okay, Mike?” she asked for what seemed like the tenth time.
“Fine.”
“Are you close enough yet?”
She was joking, but he shook his head. “No, captain. There’s something different here. I’ll need to do some hiking, I’m afraid.”
“Then we’ll all go with you.”
The dragon didn’t like that. It made him try to argue, but the captain wouldn’t be moved. A Mystic was a valuable asset. He didn’t get to wander a strange planet on his own. To a casual observer, Dante fumed and walked away to cool off after the disagreement. Internally, he was rejoicing. He didn’t want to be alone with the dragon. Perhaps this way he could get a message to the captain, let her know that something had gone wrong.
They had landed at the edge of a forest—or this planet’s version of one. The trees had great green trunks that resembled rose stems, with long stringy fronds that passed for leaves. Spring was in full force in this hemisphere, and it was pleasantly warm. He would have enjoyed the hike if he’d been given any choice about it.
Dante took the lead, choosing a path that seemed random but wasn’t. The dragon had come from this place, and it knew precisely where it was taking them.
***
The cave was wide and low, with stalactites that dribbled all the way to the floor. The stone was like limestone yet in a wider cascade of hues. It looked like a place to mine for rainbows. A fanciful thought, and one that kept him occupied while he walked on puppet strings, casually inspecting the area.
“This will do,” he announced, and the team visibly relaxed.
“Great, Mike. Now what?” the captain asked.
“I can’t be interrupted,” he said. “I didn’t pick up any intelligent life here, but I might have missed something. There are wild animals. Keep them away. That’s all I need.”
“Sounds good.” The captain gathered her team and issued orders, reminding the scouts not to distract themselves by taking pictures. There would be no prizes for First Selfie on Cavey, she told them with humor in her voice, but just enough steel to keep them in line.
“One more thing,” Dante said.
“Oh?” The captain turned back. She had relaxed since they reached the surface. Odd, that a spaceship captain would be happier on a strange planet than on her own ship. “What can I do for you, Mike?”
“Company. Someone to stand over me while I do this. I don’t know exactly what to expect.”
“Understood. You want someone to call in the cavalry if need be. Ensign Song…”
The young ensign stepped forward. She’d seemed the most lost in the strange, not-quite-forest. The captain had apparently noticed, just like Dante had.
“Yes, captain?” she asked, standing straighter.
“I’m leaving you with our Mike. Watch over him. Help him do whatever he needs so we can go home.”
“Aye, sir.” Song snapped a salute, and the captain returned it. She and the others disappeared into the forest, leaving the ensign alone with Dante.
He made a few markings in the stone, his body working on autopilot as his mind argued with the dragon pulling the strings. The monster was telling him what to do and how—all he could do was obey.
It instructed him to go into the cave and bring Ensign Song with him. She followed, trusting and innocent, while Dante hurled his will against the chains that held him. When he ordered her to lay on her back in the center of the cave, she was powerless to resist. She turned pink as a rose when he put one hand on her crown, the other over her solar plexus.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and a surge of power rose up from her chest and head, cascading over her body. The energy settled into a glowing barrier around her body. Her breathing became shallow, and the trickle of energy he’d gotten from her so far became a flood.
Side Liner’s crew would be suffering the same fate. Song was connected to the crew through her loyalty, duty, and emotional bonds. He exploited that connection to put the rest of the crew in stasis. Soon their energy was flowing into him along with hers.
Dante walked out of the cave and stood on its threshold, balancing a sphere of crimson power between the palms of his hands. He’d never felt power like this; not on the Astral Plane, not anywhere. He nearly vibrated with ener
gy as he lifted his hands overhead, intoning words that had never been spoken aloud before.
White strands of light spun out of the ball of energy, twining together in random patterns until a brilliant web covered the mouth of the cavern. Dante backed away as energy arced from one strand to the next, creating a thousand panes of light.
The web tore down the middle. An alien landscape was visible between the ragged edges. The sky was a chaotic mix of color, the thorned trees the inverse of the physical world all around him. He recognized what he was seeing at once, but didn’t want to believe it.
He stared in disbelief at the visible scrap of the Astral Plane, a knot in his stomach as he realized what he’d done. The knot was joined by another as the web rippled and then stretched. An orb bigger than the shuttle pressed against the hole. Dante recognized it as an eye moments before the dragon’s head thrust through the rift between worlds, bugling its challenge to the sapphire sky.
CHAPTER TWO
Captain Julia Ronasuli came to in the dark. Her head pounded, and it took a moment to sort out where she was. The smell of fresh air told her she wasn’t in her cabin. The pain in her head was shared by the rest of her body—she was probably one big bruise.
The twin moons were nearly full, casting the world in a silver twilight. The stars shone brightly where patches of sky were visible through the treetops, although that could have been her headache.
Once oriented to where she was, she tried to remember how she’d ended up unconscious on the forest floor. It came back in a flood. The dragon. It had dropped out of the sky and attacked. The dragon shrugged off their shots and had no trouble taking them out.
They’d retreated but had no chance of outrunning it. Julia had gathered them to make a last stand. She didn’t remember much after that. The dragon’s tail came at her.
Then nothing.
She sat up, gingerly checking for anything worse than bruises. Fortunately, all her parts moved the way they were supposed to. She had a knot on the back of her head the size of Pluto, but she left it alone, and it seemed content to remain a distant throb.
She found her team on the forest floor. None of them were moving. She went to the first one, checked for a pulse, and lowered her head as she removed his dog tags. She could bring that much of him home, at least.
She checked everyone she could find, hoping for signs of life, but each time she was disappointed. Every tag she collected seemed to weigh as much as the sailor it belonged to. She promised she’d get word to their families and, if possible, see them avenged.
First, she had a long hike ahead through an alien forest.
It had to be a dragon, she thought. It matched every description she’d read, right down to the fire breath. It was impossible! Dragons existed only in the Astral Plane—or so the Mystics told them. She’d only half-believed in dragons before today. They’d only had the Mystics’ word to go by. Now she knew better, to her sorrow.
She grabbed a discarded rifle and started hiking. She’d backtrack, try to find the cave that would tell her which way to go to find the shuttle. She could collect Song and Dante—assuming they hadn’t been attacked—and get off this planet.
She studied the sky—the place that she made her home—and found a unique cluster of stars near what she thought was True North. She connected the dots in her mind and decided it looked like a Saint Bernard.
“Your name is George,” she said. “Be a good boy, now. Stay.”
George stayed, like a good dog. She put him above her right shoulder, double-checked her direction, and began to move with more confidence. Even if she got off track, she could use the stars to get back on course.
The cluster didn’t let her down. Even when the forest canopy thickened, she kept going by picking out tree trunks along her path and reorienting whenever the stars came into view. George made for a welcome sight in a forest filled with strange and haunting sounds.
She stopped. There had been noise a moment ago. The local analogs of insects and nocturnal birds had been singing into the night. They didn’t know humans, so she didn’t register as a threat.
But those sounds had ceased.
Julia unslung her rifle and switched off the safety. The soft click made her throat tighten, but the silence lay on the forest as heavily as ever. She put her back to the nearest tree, finding a gap she could lean into between the thorns, and slowed her breathing.
She didn’t have to wait long. A sinuous line against the greater darkness of the forest came into view, low to the ground, an odd lump on its back. Its snake-like tail and wedge-shaped head were the same as the dragon from earlier, yet smaller. This one might fit in the shuttle if they took out the seats.
It slunk toward her hiding place, a curl of blue flame escaping its nostrils. It didn’t seem to be in a stalking pose. It wasn’t in a hurry. If it stayed on its current path, it would pass on the other side of the tree. If she was still—and lucky—it wouldn’t see her. And if she wasn’t quite lucky enough, she was ready to go down fighting.
When its path put a pair of trees between them, she stepped around the trunk, putting more of its bulk between her and the beast. This had the benefit of keeping her hidden, although it also hid the dragon from her. She held her rifle firmly, ready to snap into firing position.
She didn’t hear its footsteps until it was nearly on the tree; even then, she had to strain to hear the soft whumps of its footfalls. She held her breath, then her eyes bulged as her tree pushed back at her, shaking like a willow.
Julia crouched, turning so she’d see when the monster came around the tree. A frond fell onto her from above. She flinched but didn’t break position. The tree shook again, and a satisfied grunt came from the other side.
The shaking stopped, and the dragon padded off into the dark. Julia got her breath under control and poked around the side of the tree. She caught sight of the tip of its wavering tail, and then it was gone.
Something strange lay on the ground amid the roots. She picked it up. It was a scale the size of her hand—dark with a hint of gloss that would be more obvious in better light—and a bit sharp around the edges. A dragon scale.
She noticed more on the forest floor, most broken and attached to each other by some tattered material. She ran her hand up the trunk. The bark had been rubbed smooth, and several thorns had broken off.
So, it had been scratching an itch. It was molting. She snorted, thinking what a good story it would make back home. She tucked away the souvenir. She located George in the heavens and silently set off for the cave.
The forest became her ally and her early warning system. If the insects sang, she was likely alone. When they stopped, she found cover. She didn’t have perfect faith in the system; even if the insects warned her of wandering dragons they wouldn’t detect a flyer until it was too late.
The trees thinned out, their thorny outlines clearer than before. She was running out of forest; she must have been getting closer to her first goal, but it was going to be harder to hide. She started to jog, moving from tree to tree to shield herself from anything above. When she made out the gray stone cliff face, she veered south, keeping the last line of forest between her and open ground.
She was making it. The relatively small dragons on the ground weren’t alert and didn’t seem all too bright. If they were the worst thing she had to face, she’d be fine. She just wanted one last look at George before he faded into the morning sky. For luck.
A few steps took her to the tree line. Nature was singing, and in the gray pre-dawn, she could see the open ground was clear of tracks. Clear, she thought, her lips forming the word before she stepped into the open and gazed up.
George hung above the cliff, ready to disappear behind its crown of trees. He was clearly there, steady, waiting for her to join him in space. It felt like a good sign.
Smiling, she turned toward the forest, not registering the gurgling hiss from above until she saw it clinging to a tree trunk, watching her with an insidious f
ire burning behind its eyes. This one was slightly larger than a panther and flashed a mouthful of fangs. The dragon unfurled its wings and snapped the air in an aggressive gesture intended to scare prey into paralysis. In her mind, Julia knew that. Her legs weren’t quite so sure and argued with her brain, telling her standing still was her best and safest option.
To hell with that, she thought and brought her rifle to bear. She squeezed the trigger as the dragon pounced. It screeched, then she was on her back, pinned beneath the monster.
She tried bringing her weapon up, but too much of the dragon’s weight was on her arm. She twisted, yanking and cursing as her free hand felt for the knife at her belt. It drew its head back and coughed at her. She pulled harder when the idea of dragon fire penetrated her mind. It coughed again, yet she was no more on fire than she had been a moment ago.
Then, the thought struck her…it was laughing. At her. Its claws began to penetrate her uniform and dig into her flesh and, somehow, the little dragon found this funny.
Either that, or it had a hairball. Or a scale? Julia didn’t care. What she did care about was the dragon’s eyes narrowed to slits when it laughed, sometimes closing.
“I’m glad you find this funny,” she told it.
It coughed and, this time, a wisp of smoke escaped through its teeth. When its eyes closed, she pulled the knife from its sheath and slashed at the dragon’s neck. The blade’s edge slid under a scale and plunged into the creature’s stringy flesh. It reared, not expecting prey to fight back, and it certainly hadn’t expected to bleed.
Julia surged to her feet, following the dragon’s retreat to press the attack before it remembered who the predator was. She slashed at it, then it lashed out with its talons, and she fell to the ground, her uniform sleeve in shreds, her arm in only slightly better shape.
The dragon screeched and whipped its tail into the ground hard enough Julia felt it. It screamed again; in it, she heard something like a hunting hawk. Her hand came down on her rifle stock, and she rolled onto her back, weapon pointing at the dragon.
Dragon Invasion Page 2