by Stella Cassy
But the Wyvern wasn't under assault. The Moset and Vence ships were – by a squadron of our modified flying Digger modules, as well as several hover-skiffs that had been converted for combat in the upper atmosphere. They unleashed a barrage of laser beams at the enemy vessels, blowing two of them to debris instantly and crippling three more.
The voice of Gordon, the human slave I'd disciplined weeks ago, came in over our comm systems: “That's for five years of hell in your mines, you ugly, flea-bitten motherfuckers!”
“They got it!” the helmsman cried out happily. “They got our transmission on the surface!”
“That, or they saw the fireworks overhead and figured it was time to join in,” Dashel said with a smile. “Either way, it's a good thing they showed up.”
“I hope they'll be enough,” Lehar grumbled. “We're still outnumbered at least five to one, not to mention utterly outgunned.”
Dashel shot him a wry glance. “Lehar, if we live long enough for me to throw a party, remind me not to invite you.”
The next ten cleks felt like an hour. Lehar was right – our victory looked like it would be extremely short-lived. The Diggers, skiffs, drop-shuttles, and pods kept buzzing around the Alliance ships with hit-and-run tactics, but their weapons weren't strong or sophisticated enough to do real damage to the cruisers' shields. The Alliance's short-range fighters refused to engage them in ship-to-ship dogfights, choosing to go after the remains of Lehar's fleet instead. We kept hoping they'd trade dance partners to make it a fair fight, but the Pax weren't falling for it.
In the end, it was clear that for all our attempts to make the Pax work for it, we were ultimately doomed.
18
Dashel
As death closed in on us in the form of at least two dozen hulking Alliance ships, I thought about the escape pods we'd recommissioned as fighters.
I didn't regret that order – in fact, I intended to go to my grave proud to have come up with that idea and executed it, if only because it had cost the Pax a handful of their precious attack ships. I didn't even regret that my crew and I were now forced to sit and wait for our own inevitable demise, instead of being able to abandon ship and live to fight another day.
But there was some small part of me that wished I had covertly set aside one pod for Natalie.
She didn't deserve to die here with the rest of us. She was a brave, fierce, resourceful warrior – her actions had proved that many times over. And even now, despite the fear in her eyes as we watched the Pax ships descend on us like frightful carrion birds, her jaw was still squared and her eyes were clear. She was prepared to meet death head-on, instead of spending her last few moments alive cowering and whimpering.
It just wasn't fair, though. She'd been living her life on Earth one day, and the next, she'd been snatched up like a worm in the beak of a raptor – sent to labor in mines, the victim of starvation and abuse, deprived even of the man she'd loved. I knew that loss deeply from when my own sweet Qumarah was taken from me, and I wouldn't have wished it on anyone, especially not Natalie.
She should have had a chance at life, at freedom, instead of this—dying for a planet she despised, one where she'd been a slave.
The massive barrels of the Pax's laser cannons lit up one last time, the lights flickering deep within the long, dark tubes like the dancing flames of hell. I kept my eyes open, and to her credit, so did Natalie. The helmsman muttered an ancient prayer to a deity that had been almost entirely forgotten for the past two centuries, worshipped only by a few obscure sects on Thirren.
Well, whatever brings him comfort in these last cleks, I thought, I certainly can't begrudge him that.
The light in the blasters blazed more brightly, preparing to fire – then suddenly snuffed out. The Pax cruiser began to tremble.
A familiar voice cut in on our comm frequency. “If I were you, I'd seriously consider moving out of the way,” Tarion said, sounding almost cheerful.
I turned to the helmsman. “Evasive action! Hard starboard! Now!”
The Wyvern plunged to one side, and not a moment too soon. A huge blue antimatter beam sliced through the Pax cruiser like a sharp knife through a Debnyan tuberoot, bisecting it cleanly in a shower of sparks. The two sections drifted apart; one exploded, while the other tumbled through space, trailing flames and shrapnel.
The spacecraft that heaved forward into the area where the cruiser had just stood was like nothing I'd ever seen before. I rubbed my eyes slowly, unable to believe what I was seeing.
It was the size of a small moon, with overlapping layers of gleaming armor plating that mimicked the patterns of Drakon scales. It had three times as many engine nacelles as standard ships in the fleet, which made sense, given its mass. They were ridged and spiky like half-folded bat wings. It had a veritable forest of weapon systems protruding from its sides and undercarriage, and a pair of streamlined command decks jutting forward proudly, each one fashioned into a long snout with glowing eyes and fangs.
It had been constructed to resemble Gyygnar, the unstoppable, two-headed, six-winged draconic beast featured in some of Thirren's oldest and darkest legends.
If I hadn't been so relieved by its arrival, I'd have been deeply intimidated by its appearance, to say the least. Like all other hatchlings on Thirren, I'd had frequent nightmares about Gyygnar, and in them, that was exactly how he'd looked.
Tarion appeared on our vidscreen, smiling. “Beautiful, isn't she? When we realized we couldn't avoid the Alliance blockade to get here, we figured we'd better bring something that could just smash through it instead. The fleet's been working on the Gyygnar prototype for two years. This seemed like the perfect excuse to give her a test run.”
“Thanks for saving our tails, Tarion,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I owe you one.”
“Yeah, well, you'll have plenty of time to polish my scales later. For now, let's deal with the rest of the Alliance scum. Then our fighter craft and shock troops can comb the planet for any hidden Alliance threats, and we can finally plant our flag on this mudball once and for all.”
Tarion's image left the screen, and the Gyygnar heaved through space toward the other enemy ships. The Pax's sensors must have been working just fine – one quick scan of the Hielsrane dreadnought and they scattered, turning to flee.
The booming voice filled our comm array ominously one last time: “You may have won today with your shiny new toy, you diseased reptiles, but know this – we'll be back to take what's ours, and soon.”
Then their engine nacelles flared briefly, and they were gone.
19
Natalie
“I don't care about their weapons systems, I don't care about their armor, and I don't care how many damn shock troops and fighter craft they're carrying,” Stal snapped at Dashel. “I don't even care if they can transform into a fully automated orchestra of sexbots and toot a rousing chorus of The Dragon's Merry March in E Flat Minor. After weeks of working nonstop to patch up injured slaves and crew members, all I want to know is, do they have medical facilities and personnel to take over so I can finally get a few hours of sleep?”
“Yes, yes, we're sending all of your patients over there now!” Dashel laughed. “Do you have any tranquilizers left in your med kit?”
Stal balked. “A ship that size, and you're telling me they didn't even bother to bring their own tranquilizers?”
“Not for them, Stal, for you. You should inject yourself with one. Hell, you should probably inject yourself with three or four. Now go get some rest.”
Stal went to leave – then hesitated, hovering in the doorway. “These healers of theirs...you're sure they know what they're doing?”
“They're supposed to be some of the best in the fleet.”
The doctor scoffed. “Well, that's setting a fairly low bar. Perhaps I should go over there with the patients, just to inspect their equipment and make sure they—”
“Go to your quarters, Stal! That's an order!”
As
Stal stomped off, I tried not to giggle. We were all feeling a little punchy after coming within a hair's breadth of being blown to bits – not just once, but twice. Based on the reports from Tarion's fighters on Nort's surface, the Pax insurgency was being routed. Every mining colony had been firmly secured, and the Alliance members who were previously at large had all either surrendered or been killed. Nort, with all of its mines, precious ore, and equipment, finally belonged to the Hielsrane.
About two-thirds of the slaves had died during the Alliance assault. That made me sad, but at least they'd perished fighting for their freedom instead of down in the mines.
Which made me think of Daniel. Which made me think of Earth.
“Dashel?” I asked. “Would it be possible for us to have a moment alone?”
“Of course!” he said happily, leading me to his cabin. “I realize we haven't had a lot of time to enjoy each other's company over the past week or so, with all the training and rebuilding and fighting down on the surface. But now that the war is won, we can finally take a few deep breaths, relax, and celebrate!”
When the door shut behind us, he went to a cabinet, removing a vivid green bottle and two glasses. “Have you ever had Andaluusican nectar wine? No, sorry, of course you haven't. I doubt the Pax gave that out to the slaves in the mines at mealtime. Well, suffice it to say, you're in for a treat. Try not to drink it too quickly, though. It's powerful stuff.” He poured some out, handing it to me.
I took a sip, then tried to keep from coughing and spitting it out. To me, it tasted like moldy oranges fermented in battery acid, but Dashel had already drained his glass and was pouring another for himself.
“Thank you,” I wheezed, setting the glass down.
“So, what's on your mind?”
“Our deal.” I sat down in a floating pillow-chair which instantly molded to the contours of my body – it had become my favorite piece of furniture in his cabin over the past week. “Now that the battle is over and Nort's in the clutches of your dragon friends, we should let the slaves who survived know that they're finally free, and arrange off-world transport for them as soon as possible. God knows they've earned it.”
Dashel shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, well...we can see to that at some point soon, certainly. Once I've had a chance to make that request to Tarion and he's granted his approval...”
I raised my eyebrows. “You never mentioned that would be a factor when we made our deal. I said the slaves needed to be freed if I was going to help you, and you agreed to those terms.”
He sighed. “I know that. And I will do everything in my power to make that happen, I promise. But you have to understand that things are a bit more complicated than that now.”
“And why is that?” I was fairly certain I already knew the answer, but I wanted to make him say it.
“Because when we made the deal, I had no intention of honoring it. You were just a prisoner back then, and I had been charged with an important mission—my first for the Hielsrane fleet. I was willing to say and do anything to make sure I didn't fail, and that included telling you what you wanted to hear in order to gain your cooperation. But things are much different between us now, obviously,” he added quickly. “I'll make a very strong case for the slaves' release.”
“And if that doesn't work?” I prodded. “What then?”
He shrugged helplessly. “I'm not sure what else you'd expect me to do under those circumstances.”
“Free them anyway.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I've just proved my worth to the Hielsrane fleet by capturing Nort. You can't possibly expect me to turn around and jeopardize that by freeing slaves they consider their newfound property.”
“And what about me?” I asked hotly. “I was a slave. Am I to be considered the Hielsranes' 'newfound property' as well?”
“No, your case is completely different!” he assured me. “You're no longer considered a slave, because you're my mate now! Aren't you?”
“I see. So because I fucked you and they didn't, they're screwed and I'm not.”
His frustration and impatience were increasing by the moment. “This is simply the way of our people.”
“Why? When you've already accumulated so much wealth, you have so many slaves to serve you, you have fleets of spacefaring vessels—why are you all so obsessed with more, more, more?”
“It is our way,” he repeated firmly. “We are dragons. We take, and we hoard, and we guard our treasures fiercely from those who would steal them. We expand and we thrive, or we stagnate and die. There is no middle ground.”
“Fine. If owning slaves is the way of your people,” I said, “then logic dictates that buying and selling those slaves is, too. Is that right?”
“Well, yes, of course, but I don't see what that...”
“Then it seems to me, Dashel, that in order to honor your promise to me – and to show me that you really do consider me a mate, instead of a captive or slave – you'll simply have to purchase the remaining slaves yourself and grant them their freedom.”
His expression darkened. “That proposed 'solution' is far too expensive to be realistic.”
“Is it? Okay. Let me ask you something, Dashel. Why was I so useful to you in helping to fight the Pax Alliance?”
“Your inside knowledge of their resources and tactics,” he answered without hesitation.
“Correct. And now I have inside knowledge of the Hielsranes' resources and tactics as well. More than enough to, say, lead a slave revolt and drive your people right back off the planet.”
“Ridiculous,” he scoffed dismissively. “There are far too many of us, and we have ships at our disposal. You could never hope to defeat us.”
“Maybe,” I conceded. “Maybe not. But we could sure do a whole lot of damage before you shut us down, and embarrass you plenty in the process, since after all, you're the one who allowed a female human slave access to sensitive Hielsrane tech and data in the first place. After having sex with me, by the way. How do you think your career prospects would look then?”
He towered over me ominously. “I could always lock you away again.”
I stood up, staring him down even though he was so much taller. “You can try if you like, but it'll be a waste of time. I'll just escape again.”
Dashel threw his head back, laughing heartily. “Natalie, you're no human; you're a Hielsrane who was born on Earth by mistake! Very well. I shall buy the slaves and release them, as you say. I might have to take out a couple of loans – and I'll be looked at askance by Tarion and some of the others, perhaps – but it will be worth it to fulfill my commitment to you.” He kissed me. “Damn, but I admire your courage. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” I said. “Earth.”
“We just took Nort, and now you want to conquer Earth too? Hell, why not?” Dashel joked. “The way I'm feeling right now, I think I could just about manage it.”
“You know I don't mean conquer it,” I replied, elbowing his midsection playfully. “I'd like to go back.”
He looked confused and hurt. “I thought you wanted to stay with me. I was under the impression that we were going to be together.”
“I do, and we will. I don't want to go back there for good. I'd just like to see it again.”
“But...why?” Dashel seemed genuinely mystified. “From what I've heard, it's essentially a backwater planet. Primitive technology, hostile and self-destructive natives, too far from all the wonders of the cosmos to view them with the naked eye...and don't they only have one moon? How ugly the night skies must be there.”
“All of that may be true,” I told him patiently, “but it's my backwater planet. I was born and raised there, I was happy there, I haven't seen it in years, and I miss it.”
He hesitated uncertainly. “We can't go to Earth.”
“You're seriously trying to back out of our deal again, after everything we just—?”
“No, please understand,” Dashel said
earnestly. “I want to take you, and I can try to make it happen, but it's extremely complicated. The intergalactic laws about Earth severely limit travel to the planet. The Pax sneak around those laws to pluck slaves off the surface now and then, and sometimes, we do the same. But even then, only higher-ranking officers in the fleet can grant permission for those activities, and only by charting difficult and complex courses through the various nebulas and other cosmic phenomena to keep from being picked up on the Earthers' equipment for monitoring the stars.”
“Why?” I was genuinely puzzled by this. “If you consider them so primitive...”
“Primitive and dangerous. To most other worlds the humans are, in essence, a pack of simple-minded yet easily-frightened hairless apes who are quick to anger, and who can't even traverse their own solar system yet have somehow managed to arm themselves with atom-splitting weaponry, narcotics that drive them whimsically insane, and brain-softening amusement devices. That's a bizarre set of circumstances that defies all logic and odds, completely unheard of in the rest of the galaxy. That's why the rules about approaching them are so strict. They make good slaves, so poaching them one or two at a time with extreme stealth is sometimes permitted. Even those among them who suspect what we're doing are dismissed by the others as fools or drunkards. But any attempt to engage with them directly – even to conquer the planet in a full-scale assault – could result in them destroying their own world while trying to defend themselves, leaving no people or resources for us to exploit.”
My mind whirled at what he'd told me. Putting aside his tremendously insulting description of my species, it seemed beyond belief that in a galaxy of fierce warriors and conquerors, we'd be seen as such scary and hazardous wild cards.
He took my hand. “You will see Earth again, Natalie. I promise you that. You will simply have to be patient, that's all. Meanwhile, I have an idea. Why don't we take a trip to Nort's surface?”