Jordan

by Susan Kearney

  “Yes?”

  “Set course for Pentar.”

  Jordan took her hand. “You’re either very brave or very foolish.”

  “But,” Gray hesitated. “Jordan—”

  “Needs to make a shipwide announcement before we go anywhere,” Jordan interrupted.

  “I’ve got you on the intercom, Captain,” Gray said.

  Jordan’s voice boomed through the speaker system. “I’m willing to drop off anyone on Earth who isn’t ready to fly into enemy territory.”

  “Can we afford to lose those hours?” Tennison asked.

  “There’s no way of knowing,” Jordan replied. “Earth needs us to find the Grail, but it’s a dangerous mission. It could very well be a one-way trip.”

  “I’m staying,” Tennison said.

  “Me, too,” Gray added.

  One by one the others agreed, Knox, Darren, Sean, even Lyle.

  “Then set course for Pentar, and may the Goddess bless us all.” Jordan ended the communication and pulled Vivianne into his arms.

  She lifted her lips to kiss him, and she let the warmth of his heat radiate into her and fill her soul. There had been enough talk of death.

  When he finally broke away, she gave him a thoughtful glance. “So how did you put a memory in my mind?”

  He drew her close once more. “I’m not sure. It’s like I’m developing other senses. I suspect the Staff tried to prepare me by giving me those glimpses into your mind.”

  She eyed him with concern. “Perhaps the data chip that Arthur gave you might prove some of your theories, but why are you so certain you’ll die when the Staff and the Grail unite? Maybe you’ll turn back into an owl.”

  “That’s its own kind of death, but it won’t happen. Although I was separate from the Staff, I could still receive minimal energy, even through light-years. But when the Staff is gone, there will be no energy.”

  And no life.

  Her whole body trembled, teetering between rage and grief and hope that he was wrong. “Maybe that chip has an answer that will save your life.”

  He took the data chip from a pocket and held it up. “For so long I’ve wished for exactly this knowledge, but now that I have it…”

  “You’re reluctant to know the truth?” she guessed, wishing she could ease his pain. Would seeing his world make his memories that much more painful, or would they bring him peace?

  “Knowledge is always better than uncertainty,” she continued, taking the chip from his hand and popping it into the computer. After that, she wasn’t much help. She couldn’t read the Dominus language, and while her translator could have deciphered oral verbiage, Jordan was processing the data so quickly, it blinked by on the screen at a rate she couldn’t process—even if it had been English.

  She placed George on Jordan’s lap, noting his hand immediately falling to pet the dog behind the ears. She kissed Jordan on the cheek and left, praying to return to find a man at peace with himself.

  Vivianne stopped in the galley to find Knox sitting at the counter, typing into her handheld. With a guilty look, Knox clicked off the screen.

  “What’s up?” Vivianne asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Really?” Vivianne opened the fridge. “I was thinking about a tuna sandwich.”

  Knox sighed. “I was making out my will. Can you send it to Earth for me? You don’t think I’m jinxing us, do you?”

  “I think it’s smart.” Vivianne turned to Knox. “But we’re going to make it. We’re going to find the Grail, and Earth’s going to survive.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Knox opened a can, then chopped up some celery and an onion before adding mayo and piling it all onto toasted wheat bread.

  “The Draco’s a sound ship. We have a great crew. And I have faith in Jordan. I have faith in us.” Vivianne squeezed Knox’s hand. “We can do this.”

  “Thanks.” Knox drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I needed a pep talk.”

  Vivianne left the galley and took her meal to the bridge to eat. Gray was at the helm. Sean was at navigation. Lyle was pacing.

  “What do we know about Pentar?” she asked, hoping Devid’s star charts gave more useful information than just a spatial position of the Tribal world.

  “Pentar’s an artificial planet with a core of asteroid-like material,” Gray told her. “It’s smaller than Earth, about a third more distant from its sun, and the climate’s cold. The entire society lives below the surface in a hollow core.”

  Lyle paced faster, his eyes worried. But he remained silent.

  “You said Pentar’s artificial?” Vivianne asked. “Did the Tribes build it?”

  “We don’t know. The world is located far out on the rim. Which means it’s one of the older planets in the galaxy.”

  “What else do we know about it?”

  “Their star’s dying,” Gray told her, his tone serious. “Within the next ten thousand years or so, the planet won’t be able to sustain life.”

  “Good,” Lyle said. “Maybe the Tribes will die out with their planet.”

  “Even if Pentar’s their home world, it’s highly unlikely that a race that has spread across the galaxy would die out with the death of one planet.” Vivianne didn’t want anyone to imagine they could outwait the Tribes.

  “The Tribes have usurped over a thousand worlds.” Gray agreed with her.

  “But you think Pentar’s their home world?” Lyle asked.

  She recalled what Jordan had told her and shook her head. “Jordan said that the Tribes would never bring the Grail to their home world, for fear someone hostile might come after it.”

  “So they know we’re coming?” Lyle asked, his voice tight.

  “It’s possible,” Vivianne said.

  “So what’s the plan?” Gray asked.

  “We fly in, find the Grail, steal it back.” Vivianne stared into space, wondering what surprises were waiting out there for them. Earth didn’t have much time. Things were falling apart fast.

  “How do we know that when we come out of hyperspace, their fleet won’t be waiting for us?” Lyle asked.

  “We don’t know,” Vivianne admitted.

  “And how will we set foot on their world without being shot, never mind find the Grail?” he pressed.

  “Jordan is working on a clever scheme,” she lied. “In the meantime, I need to modify our sensors. Perhaps we can infiltrate their computer systems. Sean, bring up our sensor specs on my screen, plus all the data we’ve collected on Pentar. If anyone else has any ideas how to adapt our equipment—”

  “There’s no time for modifications,” Jordan interrupted. He strode onto the bridge, his face a study in contrasts. While light caught his cheekbones, the skin under his eyes was dark. “People, we’re flying in on nothing more than an ancient rumor and a promise of a legend, but the stakes have never been higher. If we fail, Earth doesn’t stand a chance. Luckily for us, Pentar’s the commercial hub of the Tribal grid. The system’s overcrowded and overtaxed, so if we get lucky, we fly in without raising any suspicion.”

  “Is that likely?” Vivianne asked.

  Jordan smiled, his eyes cold. “In the last thousand years, no enemy of the Tribes has dared to fly into the heart of Tribe territory. They won’t be expecting us, and that should allow us the element of surprise.”

  As the Draco jumped into hyperspace, she hoped Jordan was right. She longed to step beside Jordan and lock her fingers through his. But she denied herself his strength. She might want to spend as much time with him as she could, but she refused to give up her independence, and as a captain, she needed to stay strong for her crew as much as for herself.

  It seemed to take mere seconds, as well as an eternity, to slow from hyperspace. But at sub–light speeds they could see hundreds, maybe thousands of Tribe ships.

  Sean leaned over his nav screen. “The traffic pattern’s insane.”

  Sirens blared. “Warning. We’re on a collision course. Collision course.”
>
  At the command console, Gray fought with the helm. “Translators are working. Traffic control’s ordering us to veer seventy degrees to point zero eight five niner.”

  “Do it,” Jordan ordered.

  Gray corrected their flight path, and the engine warnings died. Vivianne slowly let out her breath and stared at the viewscreen. Ships of every size and description swarmed in and out of Pentar’s space. Some space barges looked to be a kilometer long; others, small craft with sleek lines, darted between the heavy cruisers. Military ships, transport vessels, and ferries all intermixed into the grid.

  The chaos reminded her of driving in Tokyo at rush hour—only in three dimensions. But out here, just a fender bender meant instant death.

  Sean put an incoming communication from traffic command over the bridge speakers. “Vessel on path zero point eight five niner, authorized entry is denied.”

  “Why?” Jordan asked.

  “Your registration signal is nonresponsive.”

  Apparently every ship possessed some kind of signal to identify it to the traffic cops. Since the Draco didn’t have a responder, they were attracting official attention.

  Jordan didn’t miss a beat. “Traffic control, this is ship on path zero point eight five niner. Six days ago, we lost power and shielding after a meteor shower hit us. Our transponder was knocked out, but Trendonis will vouch for us.”

  “Trendonis?” The traffic controller whistled.

  Jordan’s pretense that they were on a mission for the enemy leader could easily backfire. Vivianne held her breath. Would the traffic controller attempt to verify their story? Or would the name of their powerful leader alone put enough fear into him to let them continue?

  Jordan sounded unconcerned, almost bored. “Trendonis isn’t happy when his ships are delayed, but do what you must.”

  “I’m clearing. Alpha, priority two. Have a good landing.”

  Jordan shut off the communication. “That was too easy.”

  Vivianne’s eyes narrowed. “You think they’re still suspicious?”

  “We can’t trust anyone. When we dock, they might arrest us or shoot us.” He turned to Sean. “Break out every hand weapon onboard. Issue the crew sidearms.”

  “You think we can fight our way out?” Vivianne’s stomach churned.

  Jordan fisted his hands on his hips. “We can’t let them delay us.”

  Fighting didn’t seem the way to go. Not this deep in Tribal territory. Not when they were so outnumbered. Vivianne scratched the back of her neck. “Chances are, low-level bureaucrats will come aboard first. Instead of shooting them, why don’t we try a bribe?”

  Jordan nodded. “It might be better to offer to trade power. The Staff can feed into most power grids.”

  They now had a surplus of food. But unless absolutely necessary, she hated to give up any of the high-end products that Devid had placed about the Draco; nuts, coffee, beans, and synth meat. They even had brandy, bourbon, and vodka. Without knowing when they could restock, it was better to hold on to their supplies if possible.

  Vivianne accepted a laser sidearm and slid it into the waistband of her slacks, the cool, hard metal a constant reminder of the danger. When she glanced out the viewscreen again, she could see they’d be docking at a space station in orbit over the planet.

  With giant arms extending out from the core, the space station was a marvel of engineering ingenuity. Ships arrived, docked, unloaded, reloaded, and departed with a smooth efficiency that reminded her of a busy hive.

  A hive that wouldn’t hesitate to sting them with multiple threats if they discovered dragonshapers among them.

  They had no official documents. No identity papers. No transponder.

  Below the space station, the terrain was mountainous and covered by glaciers and huge polar icecaps. The frozen snowball didn’t look the least inviting.

  Compared to Earth, Pentar was barren. Vivianne saw no oceans, no rain forests or jungles. In fact, nothing green lived on Pentar. The weather sensors told her the surface wasn’t just frigid but devoid of all animal and plant life.

  No wonder the Tribes had left Pentar to expand to other worlds. Anything would be an improvement. But she shouldn’t fool herself. The Tribes didn’t colonize—they dominated, they enslaved, they stole a world’s resources and moved on like locusts, leaving decimation and death behind.

  Be glad of hyperspace, because it gives you the chance to love and to laugh and to work and to play and to travel through the stars.

  —ANONYMOUS GALACTIC EXPLORER

  31

  Jordan’s motto was to hope for peace but to accept the necessity of war. So he was not pleased that Vivianne wanted to greet the Tribes’ authorities herself. But he knew better than to suggest she back down. Instead, he’d stay close and stay well armed—if out of sight.

  While he and Sean covered the doorway with their weapons, Vivianne greeted the Tribal officials at the main hatch. “Welcome, gentlemen.” She gestured to a tray filled with assorted beverages next to tempting finger foods Knox had placed in easy reach. “Would you care for refreshment?” Vivianne asked breezily.

  “Hand over your ship’s papers.” The gray-haired taller man in a stained uniform spoke in a gruff tone, his beady eyes staring at Vivianne’s lithe figure as if she stood unclothed on the slave block.

  Jordan bristled. Vivianne pretended not to notice. Instead she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and put on a bemused expression. “I’m afraid we lost our papers when the space debris hit us.” She opened her eyes wide. “We were lucky to survive.”

  “You really don’t expect us to believe that,” the younger man sneered.

  She poured the men drinks. “Actually, I was afraid no one would believe me and was hoping you gentlemen could tell me what to do. I’m really not very good when it comes to paperwork.”Ha, Jordan thought. This from a woman who ran one of the largest megacompanies on Earth? She really could be disingenuous when she tried. “Is there some report I’m supposed to file?”

  Vivianne didn’t exactly flirt, but she appealed to their protective male egos. At first Jordan didn’t think they had a sympathetic cell in their bodies, but Vivianne kept up the chatter.

  “It was so scary,” Vivianne said in a slightly breathless voice that was beginning to captivate the men. Their frowns weren’t as severe, and as they snacked and drank, the tension abated. “We had to fix our engines in a strange port,” she continued. “I’m fairly certain the mechanics took advantage… but we had to get home, so we had no choice but to over pay for repairs.”

  “New paperwork can be expensive…” The older official left the insinuation dangling.

  “Oh, I’d be so happy if you could take care of it for me.” Vivianne smiled, placed her hand on the man’s forearm, and leaned closer. “Trendonis is always so grateful and generous to those who help smooth over any difficulties.”

  Damn, she was good.

  “Fifteen hundred credits.” The Tribesman named his price.

  Vivianne didn’t blink. No one would ever guess she didn’t have so much as one Tribe credit, and Jordan reminded himself not to play poker with her. “Credits can be traced, but”—she winked—“no one could object to an appropriate gift.”

  “What kind of gift?”

  “Trendonis is a most generous man. In my experience, it’s best to leave the gift up to him.” Vivianne spoke and acted as if she expected the two men to agree with her. Before they could think too hard or too long, she moved on. “We also require repairs. I’d be most grateful if you could recommend someone to install a new cosmic power converter.”

  As they discussed prices, models, and how long those repairs would take, Jordan couldn’t help but grin. Vivianne was going to get the enemy to fix the Draco. He only prayed that when the repairmen boarded, they didn’t note anything suspicious. Still, he couldn’t blame her for wanting to replace the Staff as a power source. Every time he exited the ship with the Staff, he left the Draco vulnerable. I
f they succeeded, the Staff would cease to exist. So for the Draco to fly home, the repairs would be vital.

  He supposed he shouldn’t have been so amazed. Vivianne’s negotiating skills were extraordinary, and he couldn’t have been more pleased when she also talked the officials into giving them temporary IDs. By the time Vivianne finished with the two men, they were acting like her best friends.

  She insisted they each leave with a bottle of scotch and some of Knox’s homemade cookies. But he didn’t totally relax his grip on the blaster until the officials departed and the hatch closed behind them.

  That’s when he realized he’d broken into a sweat, worried that the men might harm her before he could stop them. But he forced a smile onto his lips, knowing instinctively that she would not appreciate his concern. Vivianne wanted to believe that he thought she could take care of herself. And he did—but that didn’t mean he didn’t worry.

  “Good job.” He strode over and had to force himself not to hug her in a tight embrace. Taking a fake ID, he slipped the bracelet over his wrist. “You ready to go?”

  She kneeled, and George scampered over. “Just let me say goodbye.” She petted his head. “Be a good boy.” She stood and turned to Sean. “Don’t feed him too many Ping-Pong balls.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Sean.” Jordan lowered his voice. “No one else is to leave this ship. Schedule the repairs during Lyle’s downtime.”

  “Understood, sir. We’ll be extra careful with strangers aboard.”

  “One more thing,” Jordan warned him. “Once the repairs are finished, keep the engines hot. We might have to leave… fast.”

  “I’ll let Gray know.” Sean lifted George into his arms to prevent the dog from following them. “Safe trip, and good luck.”

  “See you soon.” Jordan stepped through the hatch and led Vivianne down the loading dock. “You ready to fly down to Pentar?”