fortuneswheel

by Lisanne Norman

  “Some buildings had been hit by falling vehicles and were still blazing when we landed. The stench of burning flesh and decomposing bodies filled the air and made us retch.” He looked round the room again, picking out the previously vociferous youngster.

  “But do you know what really brought the devastation home to us?” he asked, pinning the youngling to his seat with a look. “The silence. Not a bird, not an insect. Nothing. However they were killed, it was immediate and without warning. The only life left on those two worlds was microscopic— bacteria. No higher life survived, and we have no idea how it was done.”

  “That’s classified, Brother Dzaka,” said Lieutenant Nuada sharply.

  Dzaka turned round. “Who the hell are they going to tell, Nuada?” he demanded. “Each other? Rumor is doing more harm.” He turned back to his silent audience.

  “We can’t tell how it was done because of the damage caused by the deaths. It could have been nerve gas that dissipated within a few hours. It could have been an air attack— we just can’t tell yet.”

  “What’s being done to discover the cause?” asked a grizzled officer wearing the green flash of the Communications Guild on his shoulder.

  “All the samples we needed were taken during our first, and last, visit. There were a hundred teams working at different locations on each planet,” said Dzaka. “The samples are still being analyzed back on Nijidi, the orbiting science lab.”

  “What is being done about… seeing to the dead?” asked one of the young females, her voice barely audible.

  Dzaka glanced at Nuada.

  “There’s no point in withholding that information from them since you’ve told them everything else,” the Lieutenant said resignedly.

  “A network of large incendiary devices was placed on each world. We detonated them simultaneously. When the global fires finally cease, we may be able to start reseeding the two worlds with life-forms from Shola and our remaining colony, Khoma.”

  “That could take hundreds of years!” exclaimed someone.

  “There’s no rush,” said Nuada dryly. “We haven’t the population now to warrant another colony.”

  There was a stunned silence as this last fact was absorbed. Now they finally understood that two worlds and millions of inhabitants had really died.

  “I pray that now you can let your loved ones go,” said Dzaka. “They have been cremated as custom demands, and, believe me, prayers were said. The manner of their deaths may have been ignoble, an act of cowardice against them by an enemy unwilling to face a fair fight, but we sent them to the Gods with all the honors of Warriors. Their names and Clans are listed in the Hall of Remembrance in the Governor’s palace. Already the work of ensuring that no Clan is allowed to die out has begun. Relatives are being contacted— they’ll be in touch with you soon— and, where possible, Clan Leaders are being appointed from the main family line. If this isn’t possible, the nearest relative will be appointed. When the time is right for expansion, your Clans will be offered prime places on new worlds. This information will be posted to the comms of all the families involved within the next few days. There is no more we can do, except mourn with you.”

  There was nothing more to say, and within a couple of minutes the room had emptied.

  Dzaka sat down heavily. His imagination and memory were too strong for his own good. While he spoke, he had been reliving the scenes on Khyaal. They would remain with him forever because he’d lost his own family on Szurtha.

  At length, Nuada broke the silence. “I’ll have to report this to the Commander.”

  “So report me,” he said tiredly. “I don’t really care. The only way to convince them their clansfolk were dead was to tell them. What I saw made me grateful that I didn’t have to visit Szurtha.”

  “Don’t think me unsympathetic,” said the other, his tone gentle. “I have no option, you know that.”

  Dzaka nodded. “I was asked to close the matter as quickly as possible. I think I’ve done that. I’d be surprised if they tell anyone else what they heard tonight. No one in their right mind would wish to cause another that much grief. I still wake in the dead of night, and it’s been four months now.”

  Nnya, I should have been with you, I should have been there! The ache of her loss welled up again. He would give his life just to see her, touch her, one more time. Yes, he knew how those others felt.

  *

  “Commander Vroozoi,” said Raguul, keeping his temper in check. “I’m glad you could spare the time to talk to me.”

  “One of the disadvantages of command,” said Vroozoi. “Never enough time, as you’ll find out one day, eh, Raguul?” His mouth opened in an expansive, toothy smile. “Now, what was your problem?”

  With a supreme effort of willpower, Raguul managed to keep his ears from moving. Damn you, he thought angrily. You’re my problem!

  “Commander, I believe you have another Valtegan captive,” he said. “When can I expect him to be sent to the Khalossa for questioning?”

  “My dear fellow, what makes you think he’ll be coming over to you for questioning?” Vroozoi arched an eye ridge in surprise.

  “Questioning the captives is my province,” Raguul replied stiffly. “Chief Commander Chuz made that clear to me.”

  “He did?” Vroozoi managed to convey extreme surprise. “Then once the planet is considered secure, I’ll make sure any captives are conveyed directly to you. At the moment, with everybody still on maximum alert, they are naturally being brought here since the craft conveying them offplanet are from the Cheku.”

  “Then when will I get an opportunity to interrogate your prisoner?”

  Vroozoi looked regretfully out of the screen at Raguul. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Commander Raguul. Once again the prisoner has decided that suicide is a preferable option to captivity.”

  “That’s the third one dead in as many days,” said Raguul, his voice tight with suppressed anger he could no longer completely contain. “Perhaps your interrogators are a little overenthusiastic?”

  Vroozoi frowned. “Let me be sure I’ve got you right, Raguul. Are you inferring my officers are to blame?”

  “Far from it, Commander,” Raguul said through gritted teeth. He hated having to stalk around this male, watching what he said. “After all, your officers aren’t trained in the diplomatic niceties as mine are. As you said, each to his own.”

  “I hear the treaty talks are hitting a few problems, and then there’s your rogue telepath and his human Leska,” Vroozoi drawled, absently arching his hands so his clawtips touched. “Perhaps you’d do better to solve your diplomatic problems and leave the other matters to me.” In one fluid move, he reached forward and blanked the screen.

  “Damn him!” swore Raguul, his fist thumping the desk. “That bastard isn’t going to let me forget about the Aldatan cub! How in all the hells am I supposed to do my job when Vroozoi blocks me at every opportunity?”

  “Commander, ignore him,” said Myak soothingly, bringing over a mug of c’shar and putting it down in front of him. “He’s trying to get you wound up.”

  Raguul growled deep in his throat before taking a drink. “I know what he’s up to. He thinks if he interrogates the Valtegan captives, he’ll be the one to get the information High Command wants. He’s after another promotion!”

  “I’m sure you’re right, sir,” said Myak, moving round to sort the papers on his Commander’s desk. “May I suggest that a call to Alien Relations on Shola might expedite the situation? A suggestion that the true situation on Keiss is well under control may also help, shall we say, facilitate the removal of the Cheku and Fleet Commander Vroozoi back to sector eleven.”

  Raguul looked sideways at Myak. “Perhaps you’d like to make that call.”

  Myak’s ears flicked backward, then righted themselves. “Ah, yes. Perhaps a message from our AlRel department would be more appropriate,” he said hurriedly. “Shall I see to it, Commander?”

  “Yes. As soon as po
ssible.”

  A klaxon began to blare. “All personnel to battle stations. Commander Raguul to the bridge. All personnel to battle stations.”

  “What the hell…?” muttered Raguul, pushing his chair back and heading for the door at a run.

  *

  For three days they’d lain silent amongst the debris surrounding the dead planet on the outermost reaches of Keiss’ solar system. Their craft the M’ijikk, wasn’t large, certainly not up to defending itself against either of the two starships that had suddenly arrived several days ago.

  M’ezozakk had the four prisoners dragged up to the command room to look at the alien craft, hoping by their reactions to discover if they were of the same species. They certainly didn’t belong to the pale humans. They weren’t capable of that level of technology. He thought he’d seen a spark of recognition in the eyes of one of them, but it had quickly died when he’d tried to question them.

  Communicating with them was almost impossible. They’d refused food and drink until he’d ordered them forcefed; they were prepared to die rather than talk. These captives were his one edge over his enemies, and he had to have them beaten almost senseless to get a sound out of them. They lay chained in the Shrine Room, as much for their own safety as from his sense of foreboding regarding them. His men, like all those from the fighting class, were riddled with superstitious fears and saw these furred captives as demons incarnate, hating them with an almost psychotic fury.

  Born to the leading tribe on M’Zull, he knew better. But even he, who normally only paid the barest courtesy demanded to the priests, had found his footsteps leading him to the Shrine. Like the priests, he had looked to the dark shape they revered for answers. None had been forthcoming. The dull faces of the cuboid remained as enigmatic as ever, its surface neither absorbing nor reflecting light, belonging neither to this world nor the next.

  As he left, he nudged the nearest captive with his toe. It moved slightly, curling tighter round itself. On the filthy uniform jacket, he could see the flash of purple on the shoulder that told him it was one of the two small ones— females, the priests said. What kind of species let their females walk freely outside the nest? They were as contemptible as the humans, deserving of the sickly hatchlings they were bound to produce when allowed to breed without check.

  Irritated, he kicked it this time, sending it sprawling.

  A priest, all but concealed beneath his blood-red robes, glided unctuously forward, “General, the creature is chained. Do you wish me to release it?”

  M’ezozakk leaned down and picked the creature up by the scruff of the neck, lifting her clear of the floor. A faint mewl escaped her as she tried to reach behind her to the hand gripping her neck.

  “Yes,” he snapped, raising his head crest in anger. “I’ll try one more time to get sense out of it!” He set his captive’s feet on the ground, ignoring the hands that clutched at his arm for support.

  The priest approached the General, bowing low, and reached out to the collar round the captive’s neck. Using his long nonretractable claws, he punched a combination into the lock that held the end of the chain. Released, it fell heavily to the deck floor.

  Transferring his grip to the collar, M’ezozakk dragged the creature along the corridor to the command center.

  They’d been running on emergency power till now, feeding just enough to the view screens every few hours so that they could monitor the situation around Keiss. His current predicament was unenviable, but at least he’d survived so far. Had his ship not been called away from this sector, he’d have been a sitting target when this enemy fleet had arrived.

  He flung the creature on the floor at the base of his seat and turned to look at the main screen.

  “Divert power to the forward scanner,” he ordered. The lighting dimmed as the screen came on line, showing the Cheku and the Khalossa surrounded by their small fleet of cruisers floating starkly against the blackness of space.

  “The passive scanners have shown that all is quiet for the moment, General. They sent out a patrol over an hour ago,” said his first officer.

  He sat down in his chair and reached forward, pulling the female up on her knees. Cupping the back of her head with his hand, he forced her to look at the screen. He pointed to the two craft. “Yours?” he asked, prodding her in the chest.

  The inner nictitating lids were almost closed. She could barely see the screen.

  Still holding her by the back of her head, he shook her until she finally mewled with pain and fear. Again he forced her to look at the screen and repeated his question, tightening the grip on her head and neck until he felt his talons pierce her flesh, then he eased off.

  “Yours?” he demanded.

  The inner lids closed and she went limp in his grasp. Disgusted, he pushed her away, letting her lie where she fell. He was sure that these ships belonged to her species, the same species whose planet he had helped destroy.

  When he’d intercepted the small craft, he’d ordered it disabled so they could take captives. He’d intended to use them to add to his already strong position back home on M’Zull. He came from the ruling family— only a cousin to be sure— but his discovery of this world twelve years ago had ensured that his branch reached prominence in the Royal Court. Now he’d lost it all. The fact that he’d survived would be an embarrassment to his family. It was one they’d rectify by his murder— and call it an execution— if he didn’t commit suicide as tradition demanded.

  Somehow death had no appeal for him, which left him with very few options for the future. His crew would support him because his defeat was theirs and they would likewise be condemned to death. He had a plan, an audacious one worthy of the Emperor himself, if he could pull it off.

  He stilled his hand, aware that he’d been tapping his claws on the armrest, an unacceptable sign of weakness. His men were twitchy enough without that. His plan was a double bluff, but first he had to hide the Holy object. He might appear to defect, but he couldn’t allow his family’s sacred totem to fall into the enemy’s hands, and he would need to recover it before they could return to M’Zull. The captives were of no use to him now, but he knew where he could trade them for supplies, and hide the totem at the same time.

  “Power up,” he ordered, his mind finally made up. To wait longer was only to deny the obvious. The whole plan was fraught with danger, but this first step was the most daunting.

  *

  Raguul looked on in disbelief as the ship came careening out of the asteroid belt and headed for deep space, the fighters from the Khalossa instantly following.

  “Where the hell did that come from?” he demanded, watching as the foremost craft fired on the intruder.

  “It must have been hiding in-system since we arrived, sir,” said Tactical. “Nothing could have come in since then without our noticing it. We called you when we detected its engines coming on-line.”

  Another hit was scored on the fleeing craft, then there was a blossom of light as it went into jump, igniting the fighter behind it.

  “Gods!” swore Raguul. “It’s gone!”

  “We’ve lost fighter Delta One, sir,” said Tactics quietly.

  “Message from the Cheku, sir,” said Communications. “Fleet Commander Vroozoi is demanding a report concerning your engagement with the hostile craft.”

  Raguul began to smile as he saw the fighters and destroyers from the Cheku reach his own craft. “He wasn’t quite as prepared as he thought he was,” he said softly. “Tell Fleet Commander Vroozoi he’ll have my report after I’ve spoken to Sholan High Command,” he said briskly, getting to his feet and heading off to his briefing room. He was going to enjoy making this call. “Raise HQ on the comm for me,” he ordered. “Kolem, you have the bridge.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  *

  The next afternoon Kusac arrived at the medical section for his appointment with Vanna. He was directed to one of the smaller diagnostic and treatment rooms.

  “On your own?” s
he said with a grin, getting up to welcome him. “How did you manage to get rid of your Security escort?”

  He touched her hand fleetingly in greeting. “I gave my promise. I’m only leaving my quarters for the hearings and this.”

  She indicated the examination couch. “What about food? Are you eating in your room?”

  Kusac eyed the array of gimbal-mounted scanning devices nestling neatly against the wall. He sat down reluctantly, then eased his legs up onto the couch. “The food’s adequate.”

  “How long is this supposed to go on?” she asked, cutting the soiled bandage free. “They can’t keep you isolated from the rest of us for long because of the psychological effects.”

  “Till after the hearings, at least. Beyond that I have no idea. Security says it’s for our own protection, nothing more,” he said, leaning forward to look at his thigh in an effort to show an interest he didn’t feel.

  “Protection from what? Guynor is in the brig,” she said, gently examining the barely visible gash. “It’s coming along nicely, thank goodness. I’ll run an ultrasound scan to check how it’s healing below the surface.”

  She reached for the small hand scanner that lay on the end of the couch near her. “I really don’t like field medicine,” she admitted. “Energy weapon wounds can easily turn nasty without the proper treatment, and I was afraid we’d have problems with yours because of my lack of equipment. Pity Carrie couldn’t repeat the work she did on your shoulder, but she did manage to accelerate the healing very nicely.” She passed the scanner over his leg, checking the readings.

  “You’re doing fine,” she confirmed. “I’ll just give you a short burst of ultrasound, then redo the dressing. It’s going to be painful for some time.”

  Returning the scanner to her desk, she picked up a sealed pack. “Did you hear about all the excitement last night?” she asked.

  “No. What happened?”

  “Apparently a Valtegan ship has been hiding in-system since we arrived. Last night it made a run for it.”