NO WORDS ALONE

by Autumn Dawn

  The Scorpio resisted but were being swarmed. In twenty minutes the Khun’tat were amidships. A quarter hour more and they were past the galley.

  Xera closed her eyes and faced the fact that she was going to die.

  The Khun’tat were suddenly at the door to the bridge. Loud noises came from the other side as they fought to dismantle it. All the defenders could do was brace themselves and aim for the hole that would soon appear. Anything coming through would be greeted with lasers.

  Xera looked at Ryven. He appeared very grim and very alone. She believed he was preparing to order the computer to blow the ship. Or perhaps she was wrong; maybe he’d already started the countdown and was just bracing against death.

  She caught his eyes. A wordless symphony passed between them, sweet and doomed. She closed her eyes. His fingers curled around her arm.

  The blasting at the door suddenly stopped.

  Everyone froze. There was a variety of noises, sounds of exchanged gunfire. Shouts. Someone was battling outside the door! Tense minutes passed until suddenly the ship’s com crackled to life.

  “Ryven? It’s Shiza. I don’t mind telling you that you’ve got lousy hospitality.” He had to repeat himself twice over the shouts of relief on the bridge. “Open the door, will you?”

  Xera’s muscles went liquid with relief. Ryven put his arm around her and kissed her hair. His grip was crushing, but she didn’t care. Lord Atarus had his daughter in his arms, hushing her shuddering breaths.

  They had to work a bit on the door controls before they could oblige Shiza since the mechanisms had been disabled in the attack. Even afterward, the door would only come halfway open before it jammed.

  Shiza hunched under the vertically rising door and stood in his stiff battle suit, his head still covered in a helmet. He nodded to Lord Atarus and clasped forearms with Ryven. “Getting into trouble without me, are you?”

  Ryven flashed him a grin. “What’s our status?”

  His bridge crew hurried to their stations and got to work while Shiza filled them in.

  “The distress call was a decoy. A small ship was attacked, but by the time we got there, it was already destroyed and abandoned. I was already concerned when we got your message.”

  Shiza’s battleship had taken out the original alien craft and rescued the prisoner transport. He’d then engaged one of the remaining battleships while the backup cruiser he’d summoned took out the other. He’d launched fighters as soon as he could to dock with Ryven’s ship and stop the boarding process. They’d almost been too late.

  Ryven’s ship was heavily damaged. They had no shields left and no working defenses. The hull had been compromised in several places and would not stand a jump to hyperdrive. The engines had not been harmed, though. The ship would have to fly straight back home as they made repairs, a lengthy and dangerous proposition with Khun’tat popping in at will.

  It was Ryven’s ship and he wouldn’t abandon it or his crew, but he refused to permit his family to remain in danger. Shiza was tapped to take them home, along with the survivors of the space station and any wounded. More ships would be arriving within the hour to escort all of them.

  While everyone else was working on logistics, Xera happened to glance Shiza’s way. He’d removed his helmet and was caught in an unguarded moment, his gaze on Namae. Quick, piercing and quite revealing—he wouldn’t have wished anyone to witness that glance, she was certain. Xera let her eyes slide away, pretending not to notice his secret heart. Perhaps she pretended too hard. He sent her a warning glance then looked away.

  Xera felt in the way on the bridge. Namae looked strained. Xera didn’t want to divert necessary manpower, but she wanted to give herself and Namae a chance to recoup. Namae particularly needed it. She lightly touched Ryven’s sleeve.

  He glanced at her, alert. “Yes?”

  “We’re underfoot here. Is it safe to go and pack? We’ll need a few things, and it will hurry us along.”

  He followed her gaze to his sister’s strained face. “I see. Let me check the security scans.” He looked over the surveillance data and sweeper reports. “You may go. Your bodyguards will go with you. And, Shiza…?” He looked inquiringly at his friend.

  “Of course. I’ll stay in contact as I transport them.” Shiza touched his communicator as a gesture.

  Ryven looked subtly relieved. “Thank you.” He brushed Xera’s hand. “I’ll say good-bye before you leave.”

  She nodded, eyes downcast as she pressed his hand. She longed to hug him, but understood his feelings of reserve. He would hold her when they were alone.

  It was nerve-racking, traveling the hallways where Khun’tat had recently roamed. Not all the corpses had been removed. The bodies made grizzly mile markers for the journey.

  She and Namae packed lightly. The docking vessels didn’t need any extra weight, not with the need to quickly haul the wounded, and they didn’t want to linger. Xera was done before Namae and went to check on her. She was pleased to see Na-mae subtly relying on Shiza, allowing him to help her pack a travel case. She was doing her best to seem serene, but it was obvious the shocks of the day had taken their toll.

  He was subtle in his concern and matter-of-fact in its exercise. His practicality was a good mask for the glint of worry in his eye.

  Ryven entered the room just as Shiza was sealing Namae’s travel case. He hugged his sister and murmured assurances, then took Xera in his arms. He didn’t say anything. Fiercely, she returned the hug. “I’ll miss you. I’m glad we’re alive.” She breathed in his scent. “Hurry home.”

  He breathed deeply, his nose in her hair. “Woman…” He shook his head. “Shiza will keep you safe. Hurry home yourself—I want to know you’re away from harm.” He would never say, “I love you” while others looked on.

  He released her. “It’s time.”

  He, Shiza and an armed escort took them down the grim corridors to a crowded transport ship. Xera solemnly clasped hands with Ryven and watched as his father and sister said good-bye. Their bags were stowed in the webbing, and they settled into their seats. Their ship was sealed, the docking clamps disengaged. A glance out the porthole showed Ryven’s battleship getting smaller.

  Xera looked away, unable to dwell on it. Already she missed him. It was depressing, the thought of leaving him behind, but she also understood the need: he didn’t dare to be worrying about his family at a time like this. She wasn’t wild about staying exposed out here anyway, not when there was nothing she could do. Insisting on staying with him now would be childish, even if she felt lost and adrift in his world without him as an anchor.

  Funny, she hadn’t realized how dependent upon him she’d become.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ryven had little time to think of his wife. With his ship so badly damaged, he had his hands full directing his crew. Thankfully, Shiza had loaned him extra men to make up for his casualties. Some of those men he put to making repairs. Others went with him to explore the remains of the Khun’tat craft.

  He was grateful his wife would hear about this exploit later—if at all. Women were touchy about that kind of thing. The reconnaissance had to be done, however, and he wanted to be a part of the exploration team that tried to discover why the Khun’tat had behaved so erratically and gotten so deep in Scorpio territory. None of them wanted a repeat of the situation.

  The second-in-command of the other Scorpio battleship joined him as he docked his troop transport with the Khun’tat vessel. Scans showed life-forms inside the ship, some of which were humanoid—probably some survivors from the space station. Getting to them would be a challenge, though. Even after they forced the docking hatch open, they were faced with bigger challenges. The Khun’tat ship was a series of honeycombs; layers of phosphorescent orange cells stacked on top of one another, formed around a hollow core. Each comb led to a warren of tunnels organized in an obscure way known only to Khun’tat. Stairs linked the different levels, but there was precious little cover while they climb
ed them. Any enemy who wanted to take a shot at them would have easy pickings.

  The humanoid readings were all coming from the third level—the brood area. Mouth set in a grim line, Ryven led his troops in. Oddly, they encountered no resistance. Apparently the remaining Khun’tat were content to guard their queen, deep in the center of the ship, their most protected location. He almost wished he’d had more to shoot when they finally entered the brood chamber.

  Stunned and helpless, a few people lay piled on the floor, awaiting attention. Others hadn’t been as lucky. Several had already been sealed up in brood chambers. They’d had no defense when larvae had attached to them and began to suck their blood. Some of the grotesque worms had attached to legs or engulfed hands. Others had chosen stomachs. One was sucking greedily on an eye socket. And if Ryven and the others hadn’t come, the adult Khun’tat would have been feasting on the drained bodies by suppertime.

  Ryven swallowed to settle his gorge and ordered those who couldn’t be saved to be shot, mercy deaths being preferable to being savaged. The rest of the victims were taken to the transports for evacuation. Only when the last had vanished did they proceed with phase two.

  Their goal was to take the queen alive for questioning. Interrogating a drone would be useless, as they were little more than puppets, but to succeed they first had to get past the twenty or thirty drones guarding her. They couldn’t get a more accurate body count, as the room was heavily shielded.

  They shot a spike through the door with a high-powered gun that also was loaded with a special gas to incapacitate the Khun’tat nervous system. Ryven gave the signal, and everyone moved back as a magnetic charge was affixed to the door. Specially designed to spend its energy in one direction, it emitted a sonic blast that shivered the door to hot molten pieces.

  Thanks to the nerve gas, the aliens inside reeled as if they were roaring drunk. A few got off shots, but the battle was hopelessly lopsided. Ryven’s men captured a few and shot the rest. The captives would be used for experiments, to develop things like the nerve gas. The Scorpio had no qualms on treating these prisoners like animals, either. An eye for an eye, blood for blood…

  The queen snarled at them. She was much larger than the males, with features set in a broader head. She had no hands or feet, just a wormlike body covered in rounded, glassy blue plates. Her head hoses were harder looking, almost like horns trailing down her neck. She had no purpose other than to eat and breed, but she was revered by her race.

  Ryven took satisfaction in knowing that he’d just killed and captured all of her favorite drones and breeding partners. This monster fed on the bodies of his people. This queen had probably eaten hundreds of his kind, for the queens were always given the best food. For Khun’tat, the best food was always Scorpio.

  He turned and casually fired on the slimy green eggs piled next to her. There was an explosion and a horrendous stench of burned goo.

  The queen roared.

  Ryven casually looked at her. “A lovely smell, no? I know you can understand me. I want to know why you chose here and now to attack. If you deny me, I will destroy your eggs one by one—then I will see to you.”

  The queen gave a guttural snarl. She looked behind her.

  Ryven’s men all tensed and aimed their guns. Were there more Khun’tat hiding back there?

  What emerged next was a surprise. A slender young woman appeared from behind the queen. Unmistakably humanoid, she was as pale as a corpse and dressed all in burnt yellow. The garment’s bright color made her pallor even more ghastly.

  Ryven’s men looked to him for an explanation. He had none. Khun’tat ate people; they didn’t let them run loose in the queen’s egg room.

  Not that the girl looked capable of running. If anything, she seemed likely to faint at any moment. Nevertheless, she parted her lips and said faintly, “The queen says, ‘I will not speak the language of food.’ ”

  Ryven’s lip curled, though his disgust was not for the girl. She did not look Scorpio, not with that hair the color of toasted sugar tipped with black. She couldn’t be human, either, unless they came with pointed ears and cat eyes. Where had she come from?

  “Is that what you are, her food?” he asked.

  The girl’s eyes were so old, so weary. “I am of the Leo-Ahni. We are…allies with the Khun’tat.”

  The pause in her voice made him wonder. “Yet they feed on you.” That had to be the source of her pallor. He’d lay odds that the girl was blooded, and often. “It would seem to make you their slaves, not their equals.”

  The girl was silent.

  Ryven studied the queen. Perhaps he didn’t need her after all. “I have never seen your kind, girl, yet you speak our language. Why?”

  “We are taught. The queen does not speak the language of food, though she understands all things. You are food.”

  He laughed. “Is that so?” Before she could blink, he’d grabbed her and pulled her out of the reach of the queen, who roared angrily. The Khun’tat monarch started to charge, but quickly drew back as laser fire scorched her hide.

  Ryven thrust the girl at a medic. “Do a med-scan, quick. I don’t want her dying on us.” He looked back at the angry queen. “Now we will talk—without your mouthpiece this time. You have things to tell me.”

  The girl lay in sick bay, barely conscious and severely anemic. The Khun’tat had installed a shunt in her arm and bled her quite often, judging by her condition. She was dehydrated, her hair coarse and her heartbeat patchy. There was no doubt they’d saved her life by taking her from captivity.

  Ryven was fatigued from questioning the queen. Her answers had not come easily or without pain, but she’d told them enough in the end. The queens had used the Leo-Ahni to study the Scorpio, taking a few of them on as slaves and translators. While ostensibly an honor, very often those servants ended up as food. The Khun’tat truly couldn’t control their appetite, which made Ryven speculate on the condition of the Leo people. Had the Khun’tat tried to be farmers and found themselves unsuited to the task? Unable to keep from consuming their stock?

  What ever the case, the Leo were behind the Khun’tat’s recent change in tactics. It did not bode well for their relationship.

  Unfortunately, the only one of the Leo Ryven had met now lay in his sick bay on the verge of a coma. The doctors were working to replicate her blood for a transfusion, but it was going slowly. He could hardly interrogate her in her current state. There was no telling what damage may have been done to her mind, either. It couldn’t have been easy serving on that ship, watching the queen feed on the captured. The girl might not be quite sane.

  Reports of similar attacks were now coming in, including one on Toosun’s ship. Toosun acquitted himself well, but another battleship was destroyed. The captain had self-destructed his ship when it was obvious all was lost. Unlike Ryven, he’d had no last-minute rescue.

  Communications with several outposts and smaller ships had been lost. All were in a state of emergency. Already demands had come back from the lord governor’s emergency assembly to do everything possible to heal the Leo girl, and now. Further escort and more doctors were being sent to make sure she reached safety. Survival depended on it. The Scorpio wanted to know where her home world was, fast. Her people would be given a chance to talk, to cease hostilities. After that, there would be no mercy.

  Knowing it was useless to wait around sick bay, Ryven went to see the ship’s status on repairs. The sooner they were patched, the sooner he could get home.

  Xera’s ship had arrived on Rsik the previous day. She didn’t feel much like company. Ryven’s family was grimly focused on news of the Khun’tat’s surprise attacks that were now occurring with alarming frequency. Xera had thought about it until her mind began to chase round and round, and she was done.

  She’d gotten Lord Atarus to send a message to her people concerning the new dangers. Thanks to the new relay station he’d agreed to help set up during their talks with the GE and IC, the message wouldn’t
take as much effort as the initial contact had. She was grateful: as long as the two sides maintained a truce, she had a real chance of sending occasional messages to her family. And that benefit paled in comparison to the importance of informing her people about the Khun’tat threat. She didn’t see how a moon base could possibly prosper in her intended location now, as she didn’t want responsibility for innocent people being hurt.

  She was a little worried about the GE heeding the warnings. If they continued their pattern of sneakiness, they might use the Scorpio’s preoccupation with the Khun’tat to continue snooping around, maybe even on the planet she’d been marooned on. That might make continued communication with her family difficult, for although the Scorpio relay station was powerful, it relied on other stations in human space to bounce her messages home. If her signal was intentionally interrupted because the GE started a war…

  She sighed. She’d mention her concerns to Ryven, but that was really all she could do.

  The stress had driven her out of her rooms and to explore. She’d sent Namae on an errand, accepted that she couldn’t do the same with her bodyguards and chosen to tune out their silent presence—except when she had to ask directions, of course. Happily, the guards were like very well-trained department store clerks: they had a gift for showing up only when she needed them; the rest of the time they were remarkably unobtrusive. As a result, she got to tour the marketplace virtually carefree.

  It was surprising what a low-tech, cheerful place the food market was, with open stalls of vegetables lining the main road. Many eating establishments were just a short walk away, and all took full advantage of the abundant supply of fresh fruits and vegetables available in the market. She chose one at random and ended up having a lovely meal. The waiter, who introduced himself as Apal, listened carefully to her list of allergies and recommended a dish. It turned out to be a lovely braised meat in some kind of savory purple sauce. She’d been so pleased she’d let him choose dessert, too, and was rewarded with an incredibly light yet crispy cookie filled with a delectable cream that oozed out with every bite.