by Richard Fox
Jin’al went to the opposite side of the sick girl’s bed and hovered his palm over her forehead. He panned his hand slowly over her body as he and Lo’thar spoke to each other in Dotari.
“He’s…you found him in the Golden Fleet?” Acorso asked.
“We did. Along with a lot more like him,” Hoffman said.
“Admiral Valdar comes through again,” Acorso said. “You know I served on that ship.”
“The mission went about as easy as you’d expect,” Hoffman said with a frown.
Jin’al reached over his patient and picked up the cluster of vials. He plucked one out and snapped it onto his antique device. One hand tapped at holo keys Acorso couldn’t see.
“Lo’thar?” came from the doorway. A Dotari woman peeked around the frame. She was panting as if she’d just finished a sprint.
“My love.” Lo’thar pulled away slightly from his daughter as his wife rushed into the room and Lo’thar put an arm around her shoulder.
Jin’al spoke to the parents quickly. Acorso tapped the translation bead in his ear.
“Of all the times for this thing to go on the fritz,” Acorso said.
“Classical Dotari,” Hoffman said. “All the ones we woke up speak it. The Dotari we know can understand it well enough, but our software can’t figure it out. I’d guess that Grand Surgeon Jin’al’s telling them about the bone-marrow transplant.”
“‘Grand Surgeon,’” Acorso said. “They explain their cure beyond the transplant?”
“I’m a Strike Marine, not a biologist,” Hoffman said. “Though they mentioned you and your gene-mapping work several times on the way over here.”
“Nice to be appreciated.” Acorso crossed his arms. “But I want to see her smile again more than I want credit.”
Jin’al held his hand over Trin’a’s neck and said something to her parents. They put their hands atop his and a small tube snaked out from the doctor’s device and pressed against the girl’s skin. Dark fluid flowed into her.
The doctor laid the parents’ hands on their daughter and went back to the door.
“Prognosis?” Acorso asked him.
“Poor, but it should improve,” Jin’al said. “Will you accompany me on my rounds?”
“Certainly.” Acorso heard Hoffman sniff and saw him wipe beneath an eye. “Lieutenant, are you…”
“Just go,” Hoffman said. “I’ll stand watch.”
Acorso took one last look at Lo’thar and his wife huddled next to their daughter, and left.
****
Lo’thar woke up as dawn’s light cut through the windows. He picked his face up from Trin’a’s bed and worked his beak from side to side. His wife clung to him, still sleeping. Lo’thar shrugged his shoulders, wishing the engineers could design armor that wouldn’t itch so much. He gave his daughter’s hand a quick squeeze…and her tiny fingers squeezed back.
He looked at the head of the bed and found her looking at him, her eyes open and clear.
“I knew you’d be here when I woke up,” she said.
Lo’thar nudged his wife and she woke up with a snort.
“Trin’a?” she asked.
“Who’s the big hummie?” Trin’a asked. “He’s been watching us for so long.”
Lo’thar looked back at Hoffman, who nodded with a smile.
Trin’a’s skin was still the wrong color and there were bags around her eyes, but she was awake, and Lo’thar couldn’t believe it. Lo’thar hugged his daughter gently and she giggled, a sound that almost broke his heart.
He held her for what felt like forever. When he turned back to thank Hoffman, the Marine was gone.
****
Hoffman made his way through the Dotari spaceport. The facility was alive with energy, video screens full of images of the first small ship from the Golden Fleet. Two more ships had arrived since Hoffman and his team made the jump and the Dotari in the city seemed like they were on the verge of a holiday.
He found his Marines on a landing pad, lounging around a medical transport Mule, the gurneys inside empty of any patients. They’d dropped out of their armor in the hours since he’d left them to take Lo’thar to the hospital. Adams and Booker were wearing sleeveless undershirts with combat fatigues and boots that were untied. Garrison didn’t even have a shirt. Duke wore a faded combat uniform, but it was clean if not well pressed. Max relaxed in an improvised hammock.
Opal saw him first and stood from a supply crate he had taken to carrying around for a stool. “Dotty better?”
“She’s not out of the woods yet, but she—and the others with the phage—are doing better,” Hoffman said.
Duke spat a wad of dip spit into a plastic bottle. “At least this whole thing wasn’t for nothing.”
Max sat up from the hammock. “We’ll be going home soon?”
“Hope so,” Hoffman said. “Not that this isn’t a nice planet, but I wouldn’t mind getting back to Earth.”
“Good, the Dotari don’t have shit for booze on this planet,” Duke said.
Garrison lifted what looked like a milk container. “Is that what this is? I didn’t…” he looked around sheepishly, “…I didn’t know that.”
Booker and Adams laughed at him, moving in unison to bump him and cause him to stagger.
“You want me to draw blood? I suspect Lance Corporal Garrison is in violation,” Booker said.
“Who’s ready to go home?” Hoffman asked and got a cheer from his Marines.
King, in pressed fatigues, came down the Mule ramp. “Got a priority message from Fleet Command. We’re on the next transport back home. And we’re still on commo blackout.”
Hoffman raised an eyebrow. News of the mission’s success and the Golden Fleet’s recovery was no secret on Dotari. That they had to remain on blackout struck him as odd.
“Guess I can surprise the kids,” Max said with a shrug.
“Pilots are on their way back now,” King said. “Get into a full uniform and look pretty. I bet there’s a dog-and-pony show waiting for us soon as we get home.”
Hoffman thought of the mission debriefings he’d have to give. As the ranking officer that returned from the mission, he had a feeling just about everyone on Earth would want to know why the Breitenfeld hadn’t retuned yet. At least his team could enjoy some time off.
He ran the back of his knuckles against the stubble on his cheek.
“Anyone got a razor?”
Chapter 22
Moz’in walked through the capital city of Dotari. When he came to a plaza, he stopped in the center, turning in a slow circle to admire the mosaic work that depicted a harvest scene from long ago. The setting sun cast orange rays across the highest of the buildings and backlit an urban skyline he’d never hoped to see again. Flashing lights to warn aircraft blinked on the tallest spires as dusk settled across the city.
The sound of civilization was all around him, a low murmur of people going about their lives. He heard the steady rhythm of vehicles and people talking. Not far away was a Dotari food vendor hawking his wares and the image reminded him of his childhood. He thought about sampling the food but decided against it.
He remembered the annual festival in the square. His imagination overlaid ancient times on top of this peaceful place. The horrors of his fight against the banshees seemed distant. What was he doing here? All his adult life had been spent training for the great voyage and now he was back where he started.
Nothing could be better. The Xaros drones were a thing of the past, defeated by the Terran Alliance and the Dotari. He was home, but it would take a while for him to really feel like it.
He walked the streets of the city, exchanging pleasant greetings with street vendors as they packed up their wares and headed home. There would be other food carts at night, and restaurants, but the Dotari people were not notorious for late-night revelry. During the voyage back from the Crucible, he’d spoken often with the humans. Duke and Garrison told him stories of human behavior he still did not believe. Why would a soldier fill
another soldier’s boots with shaving cream? What was shaving cream? Booker cautioned him not to trust their revisionist narratives of their past adventures.
He stopped near a bridge crossing the river bisecting the city and leaned on the railing. Looking up, he remembered watching the sky and trying to see the flagship of the Golden Fleet being built in orbital space docks. All his friends had trained diligently to escape the Xaros invasion and find a new home. Ancient Pa’lon had told him it was the only way.
Now there was a Crucible that could take ships across great distances.
Several families walked along the street, heading for the park, where there was to be an evening concert. He wondered if Duke and Garrison would consider this “nightlife.” From what Booker and Adams had told him, he doubted it. All he really knew was that he never thought he would see such a sight again.
As a couple holding the hands of the two young girls passed by him, Moz’in stepped aside and tried not to draw their attention. He was a thousand years old and not sure how they would receive him. The accents of their speech were complicated and interesting.
He sat on a bench and listened to the passing conversations, content to wonder at all the mysteries his home now held for him.
Chapter 23
The Mule circled the Phoenix spaceport three times before it headed for a landing pad. Hoffman was nervous for reasons unknown, but he soaked in the excitement of his team. Max was so happy and anxious, it was giving Hoffman butterflies.
“Hell, yeah,” Garrison said. “There’s no way they can keep us from our leave time now. Party party.” He wore a shockingly floral shirt in all the colors of the rainbow. It stretched across his chest, revealing the muscular build that his armor concealed. Most people looked more buff in their pseudo-armor gear, but not Garrison. He was lean to the point of absurdity despite his extraordinary strength. His pants were slightly baggy and he wore open-toed shoes. On orders from Fleet Command they received the moment after their transport made the jump back to Earth, the entire team wore civilian clothes. His team was officially on leave…but still on commo blackout.
Exactly why his team had to be in civvies perplexed Hoffman, but wearing something other than combat armor was a nice change of pace.
“First order of business is to get you clothing that fits,” Booker said to Garrison. Adams laughed hysterically. Since the ordeal on the Kid’ran’s Gift, the two women had bonded more than they had prior to the mission, even though they remained opposites in almost any dimension of human behavior that could be measured.
Whereas Garrison and Duke appeared ready to drink cheap margaritas at a tacky bar, Max looked like he was dressed for church. He bounced his feet in front of his chair, where he sat against the wall of the Mule.
“Can you stop doing that?” King said.
Max immediately stopped moving his feet but started chewing his fingernails.
Opal wore fatigues and remained seated toward the fore of the small civilian ship that had carried them from Dotari. An addendum to their orders was that Opal remain out of sight. Opal didn’t complain, but Hoffman would figure out what was behind all this.
The Mule touched down. The pilot and crew went through several checks before the ramp could be opened to allow them out. As homecomings went, it was underwhelming. There were no marching bands or lines of waiting families. In fact, the entire spaceport seemed almost abandoned, like it was on lockdown.
Hoffman led his team down the ramp and looked around. He was about to go back to the ship and ask if they’d landed in the wrong spot, when Max’s wife and three children burst from the terminal and sprinted across the tarmac to jump on him. Somehow, he caught all three of them and managed not to fall. The children talked excitedly as Max nodded and tried to listen to everything they were saying. Tears rolled down his wife’s face as Max promised to take them to every amusement park on the planet and buy them about a thousand stuffed animals.
Although Hoffman felt deep satisfaction as he watched each member of his team, the depopulated nature of the spaceport bothered him, so he went on alert without ruining the moment for his Marines. Moments later, a man with a jug head and wispy platinum hair made his way toward them from the same door Max’s family had used. He wore civilian clothes, but his gait and bearing marked him out as a military man.
I’m not gonna like this, Hoffman thought.
“Lieutenant Hoffman, I’m Commander Kutcher,” the man said. “Your team will drop their gear inside the terminal, then you’ll be treated to an all-expense paid trip to the Mauna Loa recreation facility on Hawaii soon as that shuttle arrives. I do need you for a moment. In private.” He gestured back up the ramp.
Hoffman signaled for King to take care of their Marines and noticed the gunnery sergeant kept a watchful eye on Kutcher.
Opal stood up as Kutcher and Hoffman came back into the cargo bay.
“Home now?” Opal asked.
“Good lord, he’s real,” Kutcher said.
“You want a hug from him?” Hoffman asked.
“Sorry,” Kutcher said. “I’m a navy man. Never saw many of…those.”
“There is no R&R facility on Mauna Loa, sir,” Hoffman said.
“Not that we tell people about. I’m with intelligence. We had something of a security incident that we need your team to handle.”
“This have something to do with the Dotari?”
“Not a thing with them.” Kutcher pulled a picture—a physical picture, not an image on a data slate—from a pocket and handed it to Hoffman.
Hoffman looked at it, expecting a long-range shot of an enemy facility or super weapon. Instead, it was a picture of the blond woman from the New Bastion incident. “Her? What about her?”
“She’s been busy since you’ve been gone. We’ve encountered her on three different planets, using a different alias each time. We believe she’s part of a rebellion against Earth, a rebellion that has its roots deep inside our military, which is why you’re not officially back on Earth. If anyone asks, you’re still on the Breitenfeld. Unofficially, your team’s been reassigned to intelligence for covert action. Mauna Loa’s not that bad of a place to cool your heels.”
“Rebellion? That’s impossible,” Hoffman said. “The colonial administration and Terran Union are—”
“Not…all there is. The Ibarras have their claws in everything. I’ll explain more to you on Hawaii.”
“Ibarras?”
Kutcher nodded slowly. “I understand what you and your team went through was a bit unusual…but we need you on point for this mission. The Ibarras are the single-greatest threat to the Union. I’ll explain more once we’re on Mauna Loa. The beaches are fantastic. So’s the food.”
Hoffman looked at Opal. The doughboy grunted.
Hoffman met and held Kutcher’s gaze. “We’re Strike Marines. We’ll be ready when the mission calls.”
THE END
The Story continues in Rage of Winter, coming Spring 2018!
FROM THE AUTHORS
Hello Dear and Gentle Reader,
Thank you for reading The Dotari Salvation. We hope you enjoyed Lieutenant Hoffman and his team’s adventure, much more on the way!
Please leave a review on Amazon and let us know how we’ve done as storytellers, you’re feedback is important to us.
Drop us a line at [email protected] and [email protected].
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Also By Richard Fox:
The Ember War Saga:
1. The Ember War
2. The Ruins of Anthalas
3. Blood of Heroes
4. Earth Defiant
5. The Gardens of Nibiru
6. The Battle of the Void
7. The Siege of Earth
8. The Cruci
ble
9. The Xaros Reckoning
Terran Armor Corps:
1. Iron Dragoons
2. The Ibarra Sanction
3. The True Measure
4. A House Divided (Coming Spring 2018!)
The Exiled Fleet Series:
1. Albion Lost
2. The Long March
3. Their Finest Hour (Coming 2018!)
About Scott Moon
Scott Moon has been writing fantasy and science fiction for over thirty-six years. When not reading, writing, or spending time with his awesome family, he enjoys playing the guitar, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and watching movies. Dog guy. Fan of the military. A career law enforcement officer, he served on the SWAT team, Gang Unit, Exploited Missing Child Unit, and helped catch a serial killer. He is also a co-host of the popular Keystroke Medium show (www.KeyStrokeMedium.com)
More Books and Stories by Scott Moon
The Chronicles of Kin Roland
Enemy of Man
Son of Orlan
Weapons of Earth
Read the entire Chronicles of Kin Roland trilogy on Kindle Unlimited!
SMC Marauders
Bayonet Dawn
Burning Sun
Son of a Dragonslayer
Dragon Badge
Dragon Attack
Dragon Land
The Fall of Promisdale
Death by Werewolf
Grendel Uprising
Proof of Death
Blood Royal
Grendel
Darklanding
Episode 1: Assignment Darklanding
Episode 2: Ike Shot the Sheriff