The Russian, Antonov. He hadn’t taken a liking to the older, taciturn man. Something was off about that one. True, his bearing radiated command background, but he didn’t have the air of salt sea about him. Reyes would be watching him.
“How long,” muttered Halloran from the rear of the bridge.
“Answer the Captain,” prompted Reyes under his voice to the mate.
The man glanced at his own Captain before answering. “The ship is set to leave jumpspace momentarily.”
“Good,” Reyes answered. “Keep the update coming. Unless you want my boot up your—.”
The man looked over his shoulder, alarmed. “What is this you say?”
“Just keep us appraised of the ship and the sensor readings, er, out there.” He gestured with a hand.
The small chuckle from behind him gave him hope. At least he’s tuned in.
A slight lurch signaled the change in space. Also, the screen lit up with stars as they should look. Reyes suddenly realized that he was probably the first twenty-first century human to see this exact star pattern. They weren’t anywhere near home now.
The ship’s Captain half-turned. “Sensors do not detect a foreign vessel in our path. Proceeding as planned to the Agra Colony spaceport.” He sounded smugly vindicated.
“Can they scan the colony yet? Are we in range?” Halloran asked.
Reyes could almost read the Skipper’s mind; I wish we had weapons aboard. “Gentlemen?”
“Not in range yet,” answered the mate.
“They might be there ahead of us.” Halloran muttered.
The Captain answered. “The station would have alerted us immediately upon leaving jumpspace.”
Halloran straightened. “Let’s just get there.” He turned and marched off of the bridge.
Reyes caught the two’s lingering stares. “Just keep her moving, gentlemen. I’m staying right here until we dock.” He enjoyed the frowns that came back at him.
“Agra Colony, sir.” Hummel was looking out a nearby port.
Halloran joined him. The view was spectacular, to be sure. A gas giant star glowed a dull orange in the distance. The colony was a speck on a massive rock-like planetoid that bore a passing resemblance to Earth’s moon, only several times its size. Unlike Charon’s ghost-town feel, here dozens of ships were visible passing to and from row upon row of busy docking modules. Several large structures floated above the planetoid in orbit.
“Mining,” Halloran guessed aloud.
“This system looks huge, sir. Do you see how small that star appears?”
Halloran felt Hummel watching him. He knew that the officers were concerned about his state of mind; but the fact was, he hadn’t fully processed it yet.
He didn’t hate Axxa, for some reason. It felt more like betrayal, something unplanned but unnecessary. Axxa hadn’t confessed until pressed by Antonov after Halloran had stalked off. He claimed that the Prime had forced him to commit the murder of John Buston, but Halloran remembered the scene and wasn’t sure that this was the whole truth.
It was the Prax. They were at their core murderers, warlike. Dishonorable. Even Axxa wasn’t immune to this genetic predisposition. For all his talk about wanting to help the humans, what had he actually done to date? Not much. Instead, humans continued to die to protect him. But who had protected John when it mattered?
No, he would keep Axxa at a distance. It wasn’t safe. Worse yet, he’d almost started to like the red alien with his dry sense of humor. It made him feel dirty, a traitor to John and his family. He’d allowed himself the time on this trip to be alone and try to put his emotions in order. It hadn’t been an easy few days, but he felt like he was ready to turn some corner. Need to move on. It just hadn’t happened yet. He needed something…but he couldn’t put his finger on it yet.
He missed Cindy.
Halloran pulled back quickly from the window. “Get the crew up and ready. We disembark first. Tell Yaram we’ll need his gun, as well as his partner’s. Don’t make it optional.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Hummel watched him still.
“And make sure the Prax is safely under guard.”
Hummel nodded as he turned away.
When the ship docked shortly afterward, Antonov led the way down the tube and into the bustling concourse. Once the thirty crew and Deacon, Djembe and Axxa had joined him the whole assembly moved to one side of the crowd. Halloran was mildly surprised; he’d been bracing for an alarm to go up once the Prax had made his appearance, but the passing throngs seemed oblivious to him.
Reyes stood close. “It’s as if they’ve seen their share of aliens, sir.”
“Hmm. Keep those guns out of sight. We need to find someone who can point us to a ship heading back.”
“The transport Skipper wasn’t interested in getting involved.”
The passengers were filing off of the ship now; Halloran locked eyes with that female Fleet officer across the crowd. They hadn’t seen each other during the past few days.
He sensed a new presence at his side. Looking down he noticed a short, shabbily-dressed man with a bald head covered with tattoos.
“You looking for passage?” The head spoke. Then he raised his eyes to meet Halloran’s.
“Who are you?”
“Name’s Bregor. I have access to a fast ship to Sol. You interested?”
Frankly, it seemed too good to be true. “Tell me more.”
The man looked around, taking in the green-uniformed people around him. “Not here. You come. Alone.”
Deacon was there. “He’s a Hauler.”
Halloran crossed his arms. “I’ve heard this reference. It wasn’t a flattering one.”
Bregor looked annoyed, staring at Deacon. “Hauling is an honest trade.”
Deacon poked Halloran. “Everyone knows Haulers are bad news.”
Halloran felt Reyes back at his side as he shook his head. “We go together, as a group.”
The man shot Reyes an appraising stare. “Together then. This way.” He moved quickly down a passageway that Halloran hadn’t even noticed.
“Sir?” Reyes questioned.
Antonov came over, pushing through the crew. “What’s happening?”
Deacon complained. “He wants to go with Haulers.”
Now Djembe arrived in the clump of people. “Haulers? They’re bad news.”
Deacon poked Djembe, who swatted the hand away. “That’s what I just said.”
Halloran stopped a moment, seeing Antonov’s new clothes.. “A US uniform?”
Antonov shrugged. “The Russian Navy is no more.”
“Well, in my power as ship’s captain I hereby appoint you to the United States Navy.”
Reyes shook the man’s hand. “Took me half a decade just to get noticed. Congratulations.”
“Somehow I doubt that, Chief. So who are Haulers exactly?”
Bregor reappeared in the passage entry, waving impatiently. Halloran pointed him out to Antonov. “This guy is a Hauler and says he has a ship.”
“How’d he know we’re in the market?”
Djembe guffawed. “They’ll just as likely capture us and sell Axxa to to the highest bidder. It’s a suicide mission. We should stay with the crowd and find our own way out.”
Halloran considered. This could be the ‘next thing’ he was looking for. “Maybe, but the authorities haven’t been much nicer to us. Maybe we need to go underground. Let’s see where this thread takes us.” He took a step after the Hauler and motioned. “Shall we?”
Within a minute, the entire company—including a grumbling Deacon and Djembe—had filed down the side passage, leaving the crowds behind.
“Where’d they go?” Kendra pointed over at the far spot in the docking concourse where the group of green-patterned uniforms had been gathered last time she;d glanced.
Travers was studying a message board above their heads. “I don’t know. I do know that I want to get a big shoreside dinner before reboarding the ship. They have great f
ood on Agra.”
Kendra stared at him. “Aren’t you going to help me alert the authorities about these renegades?” Travers clearly didn’t consider those people his problem. He was already moving on. Kendra was appalled. “Well, I’m following them.”
Now Travers looked. “What? Why, Captain? The security people will capture them soon enough. I’m sure the transport Captain was alerting authorities the moment they stepped off the tube.”
Kendra saw Xilas waving at her from across the crowd. “Either way, it’s our duty to ensure that they be apprehended. They held Fleet personnel against their will.”
“It wasn’t that bad. We’re still on our way. Coloran, remember? Your adoring fans?”
Kendra stared at Travers, hesitated, and then began pushing through the throng toward where the renegades had been last seen. “Come on.”
Bregor was fascinated with Axxa, and kept looking over his shoulder at the alien. When they paused at an intersection of passages and Halloran wondered how many empty corridors there could be in a colony this busy, Bregor drifted over to the Prax. “So, you’re Prax military, aren’t ‘cha.” He fingered the uniform-like top Axxa wore.
Axxa, always careful to keep his huge arms at his sides in a nonthreatening manner, nodded. “You speak Prax.”
“A little. A friend has been teaching me.”
Axxa looked surprised. “You have a Prax for a…friend?”
Bregor sneered up at him. “Out here things get complicated, ya’ know?”
“No, I do not know.”
“You’ll see soon.”
Halloran had been listening nearby. Now he called to Bregor. “Come up here. Where are we going?”
Bregor stepped forward. “Just a little bit more. My associate is waiting for you.”
The group jogged down several more passageways, and Halloran took note of the degrading structural points: rusted support beams, damp gratings beneath their boots, moisture dripping on the walls. Ancient-looking numerals painted periodically on the streaked bulkheads. The lack of doorways or openings. And no people. Perfect for an ambush.
Finally, Bregor held up a hand for the group to halt. Around a corner stepped a large form, partially hidden by an overhang of metal that cast a shadow. An odd voice called out. “Bregor! Bring their leader to me.”
Bregor towed Halloran by an elbow into the shadow. “This is him.”
The face that looked down at Halloran was half-covered by a hood made of some sort of burlap, but the shape of the head and size of the shoulders rang true for him. “You…you’re a Prax?”
“Yes, and I see that it is true that you have a Prax in your own party.”
“Who told you this?”
The hooded alien nodded. “I have a bargain for you, renegade.”
“Why do you call me a ‘renegade’ and who are you?” Halloran glanced over his shoulder. Reyes was inching forward, away from the massed crew.
“We received a beacon transmission from the ship you arrived in. Are you the renegades who commandeered that vessel?”
Halloran was confused. “We sent no transmission…unless…” He had a vision of the Captain surreptitiously sending a signal from his bridge. Or perhaps the mate. “What’s a ‘beacon’ transmission?”
Bregor answered. “It’s when you reprogram the ship’s transponder to send a distress call—or any other type of transmission you want everyone to hear.”
“Well, we definitely didn’t send that sort of message.” Halloran shook his head. “We were being pursued by a Xu team—I think that’s what they were called—and we jumped on the passenger ship before they could get to us. Then…”
The hooded Prax stopped him. “Did you say a Xu team?”
Halloran frowned. “Yes, I think that’s what Axxa called them.”
The Prax stepped forward from the darkest shadow. “Axxa? You have Axxa with you?” Even Halloran could sense the incredulity in the alien’s voice.
Time to see where this went. He turned and motioned to Antonov. “Bring Axxa here.”
The two approached, followed by Deacon at a distance. As Axxa came near, the new Prax extended an arm in some sort of salute or greeting.
“My honor is yours, Lord.”
Axxa looked him over. “You I do not know. How are you called?”
“Mygdarian, Lord.” The new alien pulled back the hood to reveal a face not unlike Axxa’s, but different. The cheekbones were lower, his face rounder somehow. Plus, he had black tattoos festooned across them and up over his eyebrows and bald head. Apparently a Hauler thing…
Axxa nodded. “Your family?”
“Lost to the Conquest, Lord.” He spat that word out, eyes hard—even for a Prax. “I would not speak of them here.” Mygdarian changed the subject. “Our band received the transmission from your vessel and I was sent to capture the Prax along with the humans.” He bowed toward Halloran.
Antonov leaned close. “Fill me in later?”
Halloran nodded, closely watching the two aliens interact.
“And you now feel differently?” Axxa stepped forward.
“I did not realize it was you in company with these, Lord.”
Deacon spoke up. “He’s in company with me.”
Mygdarian looked down at the shorter smuggler. “This one has courage.”
Axxa nodded. “It is true. But what of your mission? You are to capture me?”
“May it never be, Lord. I am a Hauler, yes, but I know who you—your family—are. It would be treasonous and my death. Even as a Hauler I act with loyalty to the Premier.”
Halloran was processing the repeated use of ‘Lord’ when the new alien talked when Axxa glanced at him meaningfully. As if to say this is my gift to you. “My companions and I need passage back to the Sol System. We have…business there.”
The new Prax was somewhat less physically imposing that Axxa. “Your renegades are not Fleet members, this I can see.”
Halloran acted on a hunch. “We are rebels against the Fleet and seeking revenge.” He left out any details. Antonov beside him suddenly found a reason to stifle a cough.
Mygdarian. “So it was true, that transmission.” He looked at Axxa. “A new thought comes to my mind, Lord.”
“Tell it.”
“I have a new bargain for you. One you would be wise to accept.”
Chapter 47
Prax Homeworld
“What is it, Wife?”
“Pardon the intrusion, my Lord. I must speak with you.”
The Premier waved a hand to admit Sar’yana to the chamber. Several of the gathered clan ministers sat back from their intense conversation to stare in wonder as the female approached. The center if the room was where a single table was circled by seven heavy wooden chairs, the Premier with the largest. He stood as she came close. The others were continually shocked and amazed at his preferential treatment of his consorts. Even one as revered as Sar’yana of the Sight should not approach the center of a room.
Nevertheless, the Premier extended a hand to her and she took it, sharing a small smile with the ministers. None met her glance.
“What can it be? We are in conference here.”
She returned her attention to her husband. “I must share a vision with you. In private.”
The Premier only hesitated for a moment. Then, “Please, let me escort you to a more intimate setting. Excuse my rudeness, ministers. I shall promptly return to our discussion.”
When they reached a smalled antechamber he closed the door behind them. “You distract me from important negotiations.”
Sar’yana nodded. “I wish that it were not so, but I fell I must relate my latest vision to you personally.”
“Proceed.”
She sat on a bench behind her. “It was this human again—.”
“The one from your last Sight?”
“Yes, him. Toe-mas. Thomas. This time, he was fighting darkness, very determined. I believe his body was near death. He fought valiantly against forces c
alling to him to succumb. I saw a Xu there.”
“A Xu? Are you sure?”
“Yes, his garb identified him.”
“He defeated a Xu, then. The assassin’s spirit was calling to him to succumb as well.”
Sar’yana looked up. “Perhaps. Or they were inventions of his swooning near death. There was also a human woman, dressed strangely. She called him by name.” She shivered. “It was truly a death struggle.”
The Premier scratched a red chin, his short beard scratching back. “This Tomas is strong in the Sight? How could a human be such?”
“Again, perhaps. But what happened next was why I wanted to see you.”
“Explain.”
“He saw Axxa. Axxa was calling him loudly to ‘come back’ to wherever he was.”
The Premier staggered against the door. “It cannot be. Axxa…is serving with Prime Talxen in the Sol System…”
“It was him, Lord. I would know my own son.”
“Axxa would have no dealings with humans. I refuse to believe it.”
Sar’yana raised a finger. “May I suggest that you may not have followed his feelings in recent cycles as I have?”
“Are you saying…” The Premier stepped forward, fists clenching. His son was no traitor. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, however.
Sar’yana stood and took the fists in her smaller hands. “All I am saying is that Axxa’s path has taken a new turn. Can you inquire as to his status on Earth?”
“I can and will do so immediately. Talxen will pay for any indiscretions. He’s a sorry excuse for a Prime.” He thought of Talxen’s powerful father, lord of their clan. Not one to be trifled with.
She drew close. “I sense…that he is conflicted, Lord.”
The Premier gently pushed her away. “We shall see. Attend to your Sight and inform me of any fresh visions.”
She dipped her head. “Thank you for seeing me.”
He reached forward and grasped her head, pulling it forward and gently kissing her on her forehead. Then he turned and opened the door, striding out without another word.
Sar’yana closed her eyes. Be safe, my son. I perceive this Thomas to be a strong ally in your journeys. Come home soon.
War Without Honor (Halloran's War Series Book 1) Page 30