WOLF DAWN: Science Fiction Thriller/ Romance (Forsaken Worlds)

by Susan Cartwright

  “You need to eat something, Ash. That empty feeling is normal.”

  “You projected those thoughts, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, son.”

  “Then I wasn’t really able to read your mind?”

  “So greedy,” Sartha said. “You should leave something to achieve later. With more experience you’ll be able to look deeper than the superficial. You did well for your first time. While I helped you to connect, I honestly didn’t expect that you would. Most Trueborn take months to achieve mere body contact. Yet you were able to hear my thoughts, projected or not. You are quite gifted, son.”

  They moved to the meal area, where the auto-chef prepared lunch. While they ate, his mother answered Ash’s questions. He didn’t have many. He found it difficult to do more than simply bask in a sense of wonder. He had mind-touched. He had been within his mother. It wasn’t unlike touching his wolfhound, Tynan. Of course he guessed that it would be more difficult to mentally contact a stranger. Once they arrived at Kalar he could try that.

  For days Ash had been searching Icom, seeking information concerning the obscure planet to which they were headed. Kalar was remote, at the opposite end of the known galaxy, parsecs away from most inhabited worlds. The first colony had arrived around 2090. Kalarians tended to be Traditionalists, not holding with the usual “Body Beautiful” ideal of the rest of the Freeworlds. They minded their own interests and liked to be left alone. He and his mother would be safe there, where privacy was a sacred right.

  They finished their meal and Ash returned to reciting the Testimonials. He could almost recite them faultlessly. He said, “Hold thee now and pay heed, Trueborn of Delian. I speak now of thy Power, a gift from Jana the Goddess of Truth to our people that provides sanctuary, sword and shield from Taro the Deceiver.”

  Sartha nodded as she checked his narration against the Testimonials.

  “Hate crushes the power. In blindness thou shalt see a world of enemies, eyes cast toward revenge, not gentle truth.”

  “Excellent.” Sartha smiled in encouragement. “Continue.”

  “Evil thought and deed shall surely burn and fester. Poisoned arrows …”

  “No,” Sartha interrupted. “These poisoned arrows.”

  Frowning in annoyance, Ash didn’t trust himself to reply.

  Sartha, undisturbed, was well aware of his irritation. “Son,” she said calmly, “as you know, the Testimonials must be word perfect. Once you know them you can read the Interpretations. The Interpretations are a pleasure to study, much easier to understand, and you are not required to memorize them.”

  Exasperated, Ash rolled his eyes.

  “Ashton,” Sartha admonished. “I don’t expect you to understand the Testimonials. I didn’t understand them when I started my training and I was three years older than you are now. Trust me, these words must be etched into your mind. They must come to you without thought. You will be grateful for this knowledge. In time …”

  The high-pitched sound of an alarm interrupted her.

  All color left Sartha’s face. She spoke swiftly, her words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s a proximity alarm. Curse me for hitting the purge button. No one would have found us in Omni-space.” Sartha grabbed Ash by the shoulders, propelling him out of the room. “Hide in storage.” She thrust the Testimonials into his hands. “Take these. Hurry.”

  Ash didn’t question her — he ran, his boots making quick, loud steps though the corridors of the ship, down to the lower hold. Climbing in between two large crates he sat with his legs curled, the Testimonials on his lap. He both felt and heard an echoing bang — it was an eerie sound. Ash breathed rapidly. With effort he slowed his breathing, straining to listen. His heart pounded in his ears. Minutes later he heard the sound of two ships coming together and the scrape of airlocks settling. Assurance was going to be boarded.

  Had they come for them? The people they were running from?

  Ash remembered the Imperial Seer. With a firm grip on the Testimonials he thought: “I am Ashton, Trueborn of Delian. I am not afraid.” His pulse and breathing slowed, so he repeated the thought once more, and then again and again. Oddly, the King’s Mirror suddenly seemed warm and reassuring against his thigh. Knowing his father’s talisman was with him helped him regain his composure. That, together with the mantra, stilled his fear. Calm settled upon him.

  He sighed, deeply grateful to Mother Latnok. Ash began to recite the Testimonials, surprised to find that they came smoothly. With a thrill of excitement he realized that this was his chance. He had mind-touched his mother and it didn’t seem that difficult. Of course she had assisted him; she had reached for his contact. His mother told him that it would take months, perhaps years, to develop the skills necessary to mind-touch others. Still, there was no harm in trying.

  I will mind-touch these off-worlders, he decided.

  Ash reached for the warm ocean of his power and shut his eyes with the pleasure of it. So good. Heat poured over his skin, a strange yet familiar burning sensation, as he attempted to contact someone, anyone, from the other ship.

  Sartha looked out the observation window. Alongside Assurance, a police cruiser waited. Freeworlds Patrol 171, Darla Wu, had submitted a boarding request. The request had been polite but the threat was unspoken. They would board her whether she wanted them to or not.

  Jana, help me, she prayed, pacing the deck. Her mind strayed to thoughts of her son hiding somewhere in the lower storage area, frightened and alone. She had to protect him. Were the police her enemy? Or were they what they professed to be, the protectors and defenders of the Freeworlds? Could they be trusted? Perhaps she should confide in them and tell them about Delian. No. She couldn’t take that chance.

  But why had they stopped Assurance? Did they already know about Delian? Were they here to kill her and Ash? If she hadn’t been so frightened she would have used mind-touch to read their intentions. Sartha remembered the Seer’s casting. Her mind worked against her, vividly imagining people pursuing and killing her while she attempted to escape. She thought of Ash in hiding, unaware that his mother was dead. The seer had said Ash would be alone, no mother, no father, no home — but not so soon, surely? And how could she fight the police? She wondered why her mind leapt to such stupid, useless and uncontrollable thoughts. She glanced at her hands. They were trembling.

  A determined voice interrupted Sartha’s frightened reflections. “Assurance. This is the police. Release guidance. I repeat: Release guidance controls.” The man added darkly, “Assurance, we don’t want to force override.”

  Sartha swallowed. She could delay no longer. She opened communications, intentionally omitting visual. “Assurance to Darla Wu.”

  “This is Darla Wu,” came an instant response.

  “I’ve released guidance. You’re free to board.” Sartha prayed that she sounded nonchalant.

  “Very good.” After a momentary pause the man continued, “I expect, Lady, that we shall be aboard your vessel in about twenty minutes. Ah … if you don’t mind my asking?” He sounded disconcerted at having to make the request. “Have you got any honest-to-goodness, planet-grown coffee on board?”

  Sartha was startled and yet at the same time oddly reassured by the sheer mundanity of the request. She replied immediately. “Yes, of course.” Then, before she could stop herself, she asked, “Am I to understand that you gentlemen stopped Assurance simply for a cup of coffee?”

  There was a brief hesitation in the reply. “Ah, Assurance … it gets pretty lonely on patrol and we haven’t seen another ship for six months. To add insult to injury, we really have run out of coffee.”

  Sartha laughed out loud, astonished to find that she was no longer tense. These men would not harm either of them. Ash would be safe. “You’re welcome aboard, gentlemen.” She became aware of an unaccustomed need to keep talking, an impulse that she knew was the result of nerves, but she held her tongue. The connection had been broken and Sartha leaned back in her chair. There was still a dange
rous encounter ahead, but she was back in control. Now she would be able to mind-touch these strangers.

  But first she had better put on the coffee!

  4. The Freeworlds Police

  The Freeworlds Police enforce UWG law, protect property and reduce civil disorder in both domestic and intergalactic arenas. Preventing piracy, ensuring regulated travel between worlds, protecting trade and cooperating with planetary governments for civil control, their powers include the legitimized use of force.

  — Police Operations Manual

  Aboard Freeworlds Police Cruiser 171, Darla Wu, Captain Larren Forseth stood absently rubbing his chin as he looked out an observation window. R.D.S. Assurance, a compact vessel, was waiting patiently for him to board. She apparently carried only one passenger, a woman.

  Forsaken Worlds, he swore under his breath. Why did it have to be a woman?

  A few of his men were working nearby, his pilot Drake at the controls. The Delian Warship had relinquished controls but still … Captain Forseth’s sixth sense was working overtime. There was something peculiar about Assurance and the woman aboard her, but he couldn’t identify what it was. She had neglected to allow visual communication — was it intentional? Or had she simply forgotten to do so? He hadn’t pressed the subject, although he had the authority and the capability to override.

  No, there was no need to upset the woman without reason. She already sounded nervous. He had mentioned loneliness and the coffee in order to put her at ease — although they were running out of coffee.

  Captain Forseth stood next to his pilot. “Well, Mr. Drake,” he said, resting his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Shall we get on with it?”

  “Yes, sir.” Drake said, guiding the cruiser with an ease that only years of experience could bestow. In a thoughtful tone he added, “I never like to keep a Lady waiting, sir.”

  Their eyes met and both men grinned with companionable accord. They had been through numerous trials together, along with the rest of the crew. A crew became a team after they survived a battle or two, and this particular crew had been through many. Somehow, during the worst combat, the best in each man had been revealed. He was proud of his men.

  Dismissing his crew from his mind, Captain Forseth looked back out the window. He considered Assurance. What was so odd about it? He recalled the sound of the woman’s laughter and smiled. He had certainly put her at ease. Some people, even though they had done nothing wrong, were afraid when they saw a police vessel. That was normal and expected. But this woman — she was too shrill, too rapid in her speech. And there was a tension in her voice that she had been unable to conceal.

  Something was wrong here.

  Larren froze, caught in a memory. That’s it. That is what this reminds me of. He remembered when he had last heard a voice with a similar pitch, a voice with the same edge of hysteria to it.

  It was that woman in the Alliance, the group of terrorists who fought against the UWG. There had been an explosion and an Info ship had been destroyed. The Police had been called to search out the band responsible. At the time he had been a junior policeman, uninitiated and angry. Why did those mad revolutionaries have to ruin everything? It had been his unit that located the terrorists, effectively surrounding them. Their orders were clear: attempt capture. If necessary, kill.

  Unexpectedly tense, Captain Forseth sat down on the bridge console and loosened the top two buttons of the collar of his uniform. His left hand went to his pocket, where he kept a little blue stone encased in clear Plexiglas. A friend had told him that his little marble might actually be Delian Damithst — a ridiculous idea, of course. If it was, it would be worth five years pay. His parents had given it to him as a child, and he superstitiously felt that it was his good luck charm. His fingers touched the smoothness of the stone. He stroked it and some of his tension left him.

  Back then, as an innocent youth, he had not as yet met “the Enemy” face to face. Not once had he considered what it would be like to kill another human being. If someone were crazy, he had supposed that they would look crazy and perhaps be physically ugly. But that hadn’t proved to be the case. The Alliance woman had looked and acted quite sane. She had also been young and striking, although too thin for her frame. There had been a vulnerability to her expression that had tightened something in his chest.

  Staring unseeing out the observation window, Larren let his mind go back to that time.

  He and his companions were under attack. They had pinned down the dissidents and had ordered them to come out to be arrested. Unexpectedly, there had been the sound of a shot, then a scream, followed by the large booming echo of a high explosive. He learned later that a patrolman had been wounded and the man’s companion had fired an incendiary in retaliation.

  The resulting blast had caused further explosions from inside the storage area where those in the Alliance had been hiding. He had been one of the first members of his unit to run blindly through the smoke into the doomed building.

  It had been a nightmare inside, with people running, crying out, and dying. They looked like normal people, like the friends and acquaintances one saw any day of the week … except, of course, that they were dying. Looking around, Larren had not seen any that he was able to reach, and none that he thought could survive.

  Then he saw the woman. She could not have been more than twenty. Miraculously untouched by flames, she stared without emotion at a man’s dead body. Larren had rushed to her side, to help her to escape, urgently grabbing her arm. Unresponsive, she had simply looked up at him.

  Larren shook his head, captured by the dream, the old, repeating nightmare.

  “C’mon, let’s get out of here. Quickly, before the whole place blows.”

  “No,” she said, looking at the dead man, her expression set like a mask. With a grim, determined stare, she trained her weapon on him. “I’m not going.”

  Larren stared, mesmerized, looking death in the face.

  The mask was gone. Emotions lit up her face: grief and despair, the mental companions of a woman on the edge.

  “My name is Linetta. I’m twenty-two. You people have raped Orone, my homeworld, killed my father, and dug my mother’s early grave. I have no home and — ” Her voice broke. “ — my friends and family are gone.”

  She looked down, face flushed with grief. “This was my husband. Neither he nor my parents nor I have ever had the opportunity to kill a patrolman.” She kept the weapon trained on his chest.

  Larren looked at her, unbelieving. Was he then to be the first? “I don’t understand. The police are here to help and protect.”

  Linetta laughed, a high, mad, keening sound. “You? Protect me? You don’t even know your own masters. I may have failed but at least I know the truth. You consider yourself a success, but you know nothing. At least I’ll die having fought for what’s right. You will continue, a puppet to the end, harming that which you profess to save.”

  Her look was intense. “Don’t forget me. My name is Linetta.” Without stopping for second thoughts or last requests, she had turned the weapon on her temple and blasted herself out of existence.

  He remembered her all right: her beauty, her passion and, of course, the incredible shock of her disintegration.

  A solid jarring sensation made Captain Forseth look up, startled out of his reflections. They had locked on to Assurance and he would now be able to board. He stood up, re-buttoning his uniform and fully returning to the present.

  I hope this woman isn’t anything like the other one, he thought, shaking his head ruefully. Other than repeating nightmares, he had not consciously thought of Linetta for some time. She had obviously been crazy. And all that talk about him being a “puppet” — she must have been through some sort of Alliance indoctrination program, standard black propaganda. The UWG had been of great benefit to humanity.

  Larren frowned. There was only one thing that worried him. Once, when he was on leave, he had visited Orone. At one time a thriving farmland planet, it
had been heavily mined. Now it held a small population, all consisting of relatively new colonists. Whatever happened to its original settlers, Larren was afraid he would never find out.

  The pilot, Malcolm Drake, an older man, whistled happily to himself, thinking about Assurance and what the Captain had told the Lady. It hadn’t been six months since they had been aboard another vessel — more like six weeks. Of course, the last vessel hadn’t exactly been friendly. Piloted by pirates running stolen goods, they had forcibly impounded that ship.

  Drake smiled. This will be a much more pleasurable visit, he thought. He nodded as the men left the main deck, moving down the gangway toward the outer hatch.

  Away from the bridge, the Captain and two security officers gathered, discussing contingencies. This was an inspection like thousands of others, routine and by the book. Still, it was important to be prepared for any possibility. They waited patiently as Darla Wu and Assurance silently came together. There was a small bump and a mechanical hum, and moments later the two vessels were safely coupled. With a slight whoosh of air, the locks opened and the Captain and his security officers left Darla Wu and boarded Assurance.

  The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as the Lady Sartha greeted her guests. After mind-touch with the Captain of Darla Wu, Sartha’s turbulent emotions vanished. While she still had a potentially dangerous encounter ahead of her, she now felt confident and sure of her approach. Sartha was informally attired in a blue, full-length, sleeveless gown. The gown wrapped around her — the soft, velvety material held together by a single sash, the neckline deliberately low and inviting. She was a small, slim woman, yet she had ensured that her dress accented the fact that she was not too slim; her curves were nicely rounded and in exactly the right places. Her genetically enhanced golden hair flowed in waves, just past shoulder length.

  The large man with Captain’s stripes came to a complete stop at first sight of her.