The Fated Stars

by Veronica Scott

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Can you see what my emotions are right now?”

  Bartell checked with a glance at Samell, who nodded his permission, a thoughtful frown on his face.

  Closing his eyes, Bartell shook his head. “No, you’re blocking me.” Staring at her, he blinked owlishly. “How is this possible? You humans don’t possess our powers.”

  “Guess I have power of my own,” she said with a grin.

  Samell bit his lip but didn’t contradict her. Leaning closer, he said for her ears alone, “The energy Moratiu gave me has an extra element of power my native Tulavarran gifts don’t. And you and I are bonded, so I figured out a way to make extending a shield to you work. Of course, I miss seeing your beautiful blue flames.” He brushed a kiss on her cheek and moved away.

  When the leaders he’d asked for were assembled, Samell led them through a crisp recitation of events since he’d been abducted over four years ago.

  “Most of us were sold to a large criminal operation known as the Combine,” said a man in one of the plain gray uniforms, standing in front of the seated Samell. He rubbed his neck. “We were forced to wear explosive necklaces and, if those of us with power failed to comply with orders, one or more of the lesser-gifted were executed in front of us. If one of us failed in a mission or refused an order, we would be killed.”

  “What happened to the necklaces?” Larissa asked.

  “When we were returned to the Shemdylann a month ago, the aliens insisted the collars be removed,” the man answered, flicking his gaze to her with surprise.

  She kept her regretful thought to herself. It was absolutely abhorrent the way these people had been treated at the hands of the Combine, but she could have removed explosive collars, even here in the slave hold without proper tools. She knew the tricks for popping them off safely, after several deployments in sketchy areas of the Sectors. The explosives would have come in handy right now. She guessed the Tulavarrans would find her lack of sensitivity a bit jarring. Classic story of the military versus the civilians they were sworn to protect. Just as well Samell is shielding my colors. She wondered if he’d be repulsed by the direction her thoughts had gone. Although he understood and valued her warrior nature, so maybe not.

  “Is the experience of survivors taken in the great raid generally the same?” Samell asked. Receiving nods for answer, he continued. “Any idea why you were sent to the Shemdylann so suddenly?”

  “I heard a rumor the Sectors authorities took down a large portion of the Combine leadership,” Zimeer said from her spot seated on the desk. “My handler told me there was a rumor one or more of our people were involved, and might have been used by the Sectors to destroy the syndicate from within. I don’t know the truth of it. Gossip and supposition. My handler was confused, but he thought the remaining Combine leaders had decided they no longer wanted us around and sold us back to the Shemdylann.”

  “I heard the opposite—the Shemdylann declared they must have all survivors back.” Another woman put in. “The ring master in charge of the base where I was kept tried to hide me from the sweep but was executed, and her successor couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.” She shivered. “I think we were lucky not to have been killed.”

  Samell had a few more questions about how his people had been used by the Combine then he changed his focus to the survivors of the later raid.

  “And perhaps you can tell me, Lady Fidaya, about the happenings on Tulavarra after we were taken? And how you came to be here now?”

  She was obviously pleased to be called upon, preening as she walked into the clear space in front of Samell’s chair.

  Bartell leaned closer to Larissa. “She’s the most highly ranking, non-temple staff person here,” he said in a low voice. “Before Samell was kidnapped by the aliens, it was said Fidaya was making efforts to capture his interest. The two of them were considered to be equally matched by rank and family distinction.”

  Larissa frowned. Why does he think I need to know this? Whatever Samell did before we met is none of my business. And I’ve already figured out on my own she doesn’t approve of me.

  Fidaya embarked on a tedious discussion of what had been done to rebuild the city of Melgadarr four years ago, as well as explaining who had married who or formed other alliances, or filled positions left vacant by death or kidnapping.

  Larissa maintained her parade rest posture and blank expression with difficulty as the woman blathered on and on about what was basically old gossip, irrelevant to the life and death situation facing them all currently.

  Showing a lot more patience than she would have, Samell let her talk in this vein for a minute or two, then cut her off. “We can catch up on details later. Thank you for your thoroughness, but right now I need to know the barest facts. What happened when the Shemdylann attacked again?”

  “I can speak to the events.” A robust man with a scarred cheek stood. “Kliderr of the Melgadarr guard, my lord. I’m glad to see you survived.”

  Samell’s face lit up with a pleased expression. He rose to clasp hands with the soldier. “I remember you well. Tell me about the second raid—there’s been only one other, I assume?”

  Larissa felt relief too. If this person was military, he might know how to deliver a proper, concise report. No more gossip-mongering.

  “Correct.” The man affirmed Samell’s guess and launched into a crisp summary. “After the massive raid where you and the others were snatched, the temples assembled a council of the remaining leaders, along with the civilian leaders. I was assigned as a guard outside the council room, so I overheard quite a bit.” He grinned. “It was acknowledged our powers were useless—many of the survivors had seen you and your comrades hurl the death song at the aliens to no avail. Our weapons were similarly useless against the aliens’ advanced technology and their own physiology. The primary plan was three pronged—watch towers to light a relay of fires to warn if the ships came again. A prohibition against any large gathering, no more festivals, which might attract the enemy.”

  “And the third prong?”

  “Deep tunnels, made too narrow for the aliens to penetrate, through which the remaining population was to flee, dispersing to all points of the compass.” He grimaced. “There were those who tried to maintain more of a normal life, as Lady Fidaya has briefly mentioned but, for the most part, society fell apart. People became afraid to be outdoors, the farmers tried to work at night, believing the cover of darkness provided safety. Although after three years had passed uneventfully, life began returning to normal slowly.”

  “And then the enemy struck again,” Samell said.

  Kliderr’s hands bunched into fists and he clenched his jaw. “I was taken trying to defend the entrance to one of the tunnels.”

  “So, if your people had these tunnels, why are so many of them here as prisoners?” Larissa asked.

  “We had only seen the large Shemdylann before, my lady. This time the cursed aliens brought smaller ones as well, and they swarmed the tunnels.”

  Unsurprised, she offered a quick explanation. “Juvenile worker drones, the mid-stage of a Shemdylann’s life cycle. They only get permission and the right enzymes from the admirals to morph into the adult soldier when they’ve proven themselves.”

  “Your people have made a study of them?” Fidaya said.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then why haven’t you eliminated these pests? Why are you and others of your people here with us today as slaves?” Her tone was contemptuous.

  Larissa refused to take offense. As if it was so easy to eliminate an enemy firmly entrenched in interstellar space, with formidable allies. You’ve got a lot to learn, lady. “Exterminating them is a tall order. We’ve got war going on multiple fronts, against them and their masters.” She shrugged. “Individuals like me, or you, get caught in the conflict. If we’re smart and lucky, we escape, or at least live to fight another day.”

  Redirecting the conversation smoothly, Samell aske
d Kliderr, “How long have you been on this ship?”

  “Our best estimate is six weeks,” Bartell answered. “There was much confusion and panic amongst us at first. Many died. It took a while for our people to get organized. And then the others – the survivors from the first raid – began appearing, thrust in here in small groups.”

  “So we probably have all the Tulavarrans left alive in the Sectors, or the majority of you anyway,” Larissa said. “Interesting. Is there anyone named Vosiriell here?”

  Samell grimaced and struck his forehead lightly with his palm. She guessed he’d temporarily forgotten the other ‘seer’ kept prisoner by Kinterow.

  “She was here,” Bartell said. “She arrived terribly weakened, could hardly stand, and lapsed into a coma. We tried valiantly to save her – the priestesses expended much of their remaining power, especially the ones from her own temple, but in vain. She died a few days ago. The Shemdylann come in the morning to deliver rations for the day and to remove the bodies of any who have died. Fortunately, now the deaths have tapered off.”

  “She probably had stasis wasting syndrome, like Samell did,” Larissa said. “Hard to counteract without the right medtech.”

  “We’ll honor her name when we have the chance to mourn properly,” Samell said. “We’ll pay tribute to all who have perished. Right now I need to know more of how we’re organized here.”

  Larissa leaned over. “Civil admin is your job, not mine. I’m going to check out the place, see what the possibilities are for escape, if any. Talk to the humans in the special cage in the far corner, evaluate any useful intel I can garner.”

  “All wise ideas.” He nodded. “We were probably the last to be brought in—”

  “Right.” She kept her voice low. “Whatever the Shemdylann or their masters have in mind for a few hundred of your people might start happening. I have a feeling time’s running out.”

  “I don’t want to panic them.”

  “Agreed.” She pulled Kliderr aside. “You act like a pretty savvy soldier to my eyes. What escape possibilities have you identified?”

  “None. I went over this entire place myself, checking for obvious things - vents, access doors, floor panels, hiding places.” He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “No offense but I’m going to repeat your recon, see what I see. I don’t doubt the thoroughness of your assessment, but I might see the equipment and fittings differently.”

  “None taken. I only pray to Thuun you do find something I missed, since you’re fully acquainted with the way things work in this insane world we’ve been brought to.” He beckoned to a young soldier nearby, his uniform tattered but his bearing ramrod straight. “Accompany Lady Larissa.” He forestalled her protest with a raised hand. “Even in your military it must be judged a good thing to have a comrade at your back. You don’t know us, we’ve no idea of you, but Lord Samell obviously places a high level of trust in you. His opinion is good enough for me.” He saluted with a fist to his heart and strode away to join the Tulavarran officials clustered around Samell’s chair.

  “Call me Larissa,” she said to the soldier who remained behind. “None of this lady stuff. I’m a soldier, same as you.”

  “I’m Jeffyerl, senior guardsman of the temple at Melgadarr.” He saluted her crisply in the same way Kliderr had.

  “All right, take me on a tour of this place and leave out nothing.” She gestured for him to precede her.

  An hour later, grimy from climbing around in the recesses of the cargo hold, Larissa had to admit Kliderr had been right—there were no possible escape routes or ambush points. She hadn’t expected there to be, since the Shemdylann had been running slaves for centuries. One thing she didn’t like was an exterior door on the outer skin of the ship. She didn’t discuss her concern with Jeffyerl, but it was obvious to her the Shemdylann could blow the sentients in this hold into space at any moment. Just another powerful incentive to think of a solution, an escape plan, some way to extricate ourselves from this mess.

  She saved the cage holding her own human compatriots for last. Now she walked up to the fenced off corner of the hold slowly, eyeing the five special prisoners as the men were likewise assessing her.

  One individual came to the fore. “Wondered when you’d get around to us.” He stuck his hand through the bars. “Peter McQueen, captain in the Special Forces. You can call me Pete. I’m in command here.” He made a grand gesture at the cage surrounding him.

  “Larissa Channer, staff sergeant, Special Forces, retired. I’m currently a merc in the Guild.”

  She shook his hand, reassured by his firm manner, and Pete introduced his companions. One was his teammate, Donnie Durham, captured while on a mission behind enemy lines. Two were crew members from a small freighter the Shemdylann had attacked in free space, making the dangerous run from the Freemarket system back to the Sectors. The fifth was a colonist who’d been a passenger on the freighter.

  Larissa hunkered down by the cage. Eyeing the bulk and fitness of the five, obvious in their tattered clothing, she asked, “The Shemdylann planning to sell you in the hinterlands beyond the rim as gladiators?”

  “We think so, yes.” Pete said. “My partner and I have been here two months. These others arrived a couple of weeks ago. For now, we’re holding on to see what the escape potential may be. Not that there’s any chance right now, but conditions change. Your arrival today, for example.”

  “Always got to be ready.” Larissa approved his attitude. Like her, these men were only supposed to use the checkout code if the situation got hopeless and there was no way out. Special Forces operators fought like demons up till the point of no return, exhausting the remotest possibility for escape or searching for a way to take as many of the enemy with them as possible.

  “Why are you here?” Pete asked. “And who’s the bigwig you’re protecting over there?”

  “He’s a high priest on their home world. We were captured trying to investigate an enemy operation in the Sectors. He originally hired me to help him escape imprisonment, which I did, but now here we are, caught in a bigger cage.”

  “These people possess a lot of power.” Pete leaned on the bars. “Not as much as a Mellurean, but a lot. When the first contingent arrived, the priestesses were kind enough to heal a nagging injury Donnie D had. And one lady helped me.”

  Larissa evaluated the hulking sergeant, who seemed fit and ready for battle. “Yeah, I’ve seen them in action but, unfortunately for them, their powers have no effect on the Shemdylann. Are you SSC trained?”

  Surprised, Pete reacted to the military acronym. “Special ship capture? Hell yes, but why? You planning to take over this magnificent vessel? You carrying weapons I’m not seeing?”

  She shook her head. “Never hurts to make plans, and I don’t know how to fly this behemoth.”

  “Not sure I do either.” Pete laughed. “But, you get me to the bridge, and I’ll sure as seven hells make the attempt. I’ve done it in the simulator, about a hundred years ago.”

  “No one’s ever taken over a Shemdylann ship,” one of the freighter crewmen put in.

  “First time for everything.” Larissa gave him a hard stare, even as she tossed off the light hearted answer. “No guts, no glory.”

  “I like the way you think, sergeant. We might be able to—”

  Whatever Pete was going to say was drowned out by the sound of a klaxon so loud and abrasive the noise hurt Larissa’s ears. Wheeling in the direction of the sound, she saw the hold door sliding open and a squad of Shemdylann juveniles marched in, followed by three of the massive soldiers. The Tulavarrans backed away, crowding together.

  “The human Larissa Channer is to present herself immediately,” yelled the largest Shemdylann in passable Basic. “There will be punishment in the case of any delay or attempt to hide.”

  Taking a deep breath, Larissa straightened and walked away from the cell.

  “Good luck,” Pete said. “Give ‘em hell.”

  She m
ade a small hand gesture to acknowledge his encouragement. “No need for threats,” she called out. “I’m coming as ordered.”

  Three of the Shemdylann juveniles closest to her skittered across the floor to surround her, followed by a solider holding a pair of force cuffs. “Turn that I may restrain your arms.”

  Obediently she did so, catching sight of Samell at the edge of the Tulavarran crowd. His face was set in a grimly determined expression as he attempted to come to her side. Bartell and Kilderr were restraining him, the former apparently arguing vehemently against any rash actions. Larissa gave him a smile, as big as she could manage. “See you soon.”

  The Shemdylann hustled her out of the hold, and the door slammed shut behind her.

  Larissa concentrated on memorizing the ship’s layout as she was marched through twisting corridors, the trip terminating eventually in a large chamber where several high ranking Shemdylann lounged on their version of chairs. The officers were denoted by gold jewelry fastened to various parts of their carapaces, and bold stripes of color down their flanks, which indicated status and accomplishment. All of Larissa’s briefings on the enemy back in her service days were filling her head with details. She wondered whether to be relieved or sorry the captain of this ship was evidently a male, not one of the legendarily dreaded female admirals. She might have been able to negotiate with an admiral.

  “The female you requested, sir,” the soldier in charge of Larissa said in Shemdylann.

  The captain regarded her blankly, then waved one pincer carelessly and turned away. “Take her to the side and keep an eye on her. We’re still waiting for our contact, who doesn’t know any better than to keep me clicking my pincers on thin air. If I have to sit here too long, I might eat him and forget to report his death to the masters.” The Shemdylann made the odd sound that was apparently laughter, and his subordinates dutifully chortled.

  Larissa took the spot her guard indicated and leaned against the bulkhead, trying to appear scared and clueless. In reality, she was eavesdropping avidly on the debate between the captain and his officers.