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

by Susan Cartwright

  There was little conversation, the married couple discussed crops and weather and ignored Larren. He was able to finish his meal in its entirety, helping himself to seconds and then Em handed him a large steaming mug of coffee. She had some sort of fruit pie on offer, but he couldn’t eat another thing.

  “That meal was wonderful, Madam,” Larren said with real gratitude. He had been starving, but had gone past that stage the day before. He hadn’t realized how hungry he actually was until he sat in front of that wonderful home-cooked meal. Now he felt full, content and, for the moment, out of harm’s way. He had almost forgotten what it was like to feel safe. “I can’t pay you, but if I could I’d like to help with the washing up, or any other chores you might have,” Larren said.

  Em’s square, coarse face fell. “Help me with the washing up?” she said. “Pay me? Well, I’ve never been so insulted in my life.”

  Larren sat back, alarmed. What did he say? That was the trouble with landing on an unknown world. One could never be sure of the planetary customs and mores. He stood up in apology, having finished the coffee and the meal anyway. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause any insult …”

  “Well you have, sir, indeed you have. Imagine that, after all we’ve done.” She shook her head. “You get to your room now. You’re for a bath and bed, and your apology will be accepted, sir. I’ll excuse you this time as you must be so tired you must have forgotten your manners. Yes indeed. Pay for your supper? Well, I never.”

  The woman pushed Larren toward a bedroom before he was able to object to her overriding hospitality.”Go on,” she shooed him up the stairs. “The washroom is there, right off the bedroom.” She put her hands on her hips, raising a determined eyebrow at Larren. “I won’t take no for an answer,” she said decisively. “You get clean and then to off to sleep before you fall down.”

  There was nothing for it. Larren meekly yielded to her demands, walking straight into the bedroom as he was told. He shut the well-crafted, white wooden bedroom door, ran a bath, sat down on the bed and pulled off his boots. Still bemused, he heard an odd noise. What was it? It sounded like laughter. He stood up and silently listened, opening the door just a fraction. Looking through the crack he was afforded a narrow view down the hall and into the sitting room. It was Clinton and his wife. They sat on a well-used sofa, whispering and chuckling, heads together. Clearly attempting to be noiseless, they didn’t want to disturb him, and certainly were not intending to be overheard.

  “Oh, Em,” Clinton said, in a whisper, “that was too good. You had that poor man so worried he had offended you that he raced up to that bed before he knew where he was going or he even had time to spit.”

  Em giggled, enjoying the joke. For some time they chatted between themselves, comparing observations. They were speaking so softly, Larren was unable to overhear everything they said. He shouldn’t be listening, he admonished himself, but he felt compelled. They were, after all, talking about him.

  Finally Larren heard Em remark in a somber tone, “That man looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept for a week. Think he’ll tell us what he’s running from?”

  “He’ll tell us if he wants, in his own good time, mother. Bad manners to be asking, I’m a-thinking,” Clinton said shortly and Em nodded her agreement.

  After a few moments of quiet thought, Clinton continued, “Yep. I don’t know the details of which side of hell he came from but I’ll tell you this: I don’t really need to know. Wherever it was, you only have to look at the man to know that it was bad. Real bad.”

  They both nodded their heads wisely, in complete understanding, agreement and accord.

  Larren softly shut the door. He finished taking off his clothes and with a sigh of relief he lay down in the tub, letting the heat soothe days of tension. The compassion and kindness of his newfound allies blurred his vision, causing him to swallow with suppressed emotion. He gave a scornful snort. After all he had been through, now he was going to cry?

  A sudden thought startled him. In their concern, their careful desire to make him feel welcome and at home, the Williams family had asked no personal questions. They still didn’t even know his name.

  It was two weeks or more before Larren had been able to speak about his ordeal and his need to find Sartha and Ash. During that time he and the Williams family had become firm friends. Larren’s conscience pricked. The fact was that he could be endangering them by staying. He had to move on.

  He and Clinton were working in the big, double-story barn, bailing hay and storing it for winter, using primitive but surprisingly effective tools. It was warm in the late afternoon. Shafts of lazy sunlight shone through the open upper loading doors of the barn and motes of dust twirled in a languid dance. The sky was cloudless, and a gentle wind blew through the building from time to time. Larren, shirtless, enjoyed the cool breeze upon his perspiring flesh.

  “Clinton,” Larren began, bending back into an upright position. He had been using a pitchfork and his chest was bare, the sweat from his efforts glistening. “I’d like to tell you a bit about myself, if you’re interested … and if you don’t mind.”

  Clinton stopped working. “If you want, sure I’ll listen, but I don’t want you to think that you owe it to us, no sir. Here on Kalar, we don’t care about your past. It’s what you do now that matters. I know by all you’ve done the last few weeks, you’re a good man to work the soil with. That’s good enough for me. You’ve no need to explain anything.”

  Larren smiled contentedly, as he put his pitchfork down. In his entire life he had met so many people, and so few of them were bad. Some were misguided, some stupid, but in truth, it was probably less than one out of a hundred that were incurably cruel or evil. Clinton was one of the best. His simple truths and ways of looking at life reminded him of his old friend, Drake.

  The thought of Malcolm Drake felt like a punch to the chest. A vivid picture of Darla Wu and Drake exploding into vapor came to mind. He sighed and cleared his throat. Larren knew he was not yet himself. Odd things reminded him suddenly of Delian, Neopol or the death of his crew. His overreactions to these memories were so out of character they astonished him. Often something brought a sting of tears to his eyes; other times he raged with murderous intent; and behind it all was ongoing anxiety. In his dreams he replayed events, often waking in terror. Larren had yet to sleep through the night. It knew would take more time to recover from all he had been through. But how long would it take to be himself again? Where the simple trigger of a memory could not cause him such terrible pain?

  He said in a gruff voice, “Look, Clinton. I have to leave as soon as possible. I wanted to talk to you first, so that you wouldn’t take it the wrong way. I want you to know the truth before I go. You and your family have been so good to me.” He shut his eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply. Once more he felt in danger of falling into tears — this time due to Clinton’s kindness. By the love of Jana, he needed to get some self control.

  Clinton frowned at Larren. “Well, I’ll be,” Clinton said in an angry tone, placing his hands on his hips. “First you come in and eat our meals, and then you take our bed …”

  “How was I to know that was your bed?” Larren protested. The first night here, Em had given him their bed. Now he was sleeping in the loft, which was quite comfortable, but he would never have slept in their bed if he had known.

  “Ha. Just can’t trust these off-worlders, Lawd no.” Clinton pointed at him. “Why I told my partner, I said, Em, this here stranger, why he’s a scheming sly one, but no, no, she had to take you in like some little lost hound … and tuck you into our own bed …” Clinton focused on Larren, pretending accusation, but mischief and mirth twinkled in his eyes.

  “That Em,” Larren said mournfully, shaking his head. “The way she chased me into your room.” Like the powerful, unchanging force of gravity, when that woman had her mind set, nothing and no one could stop her.

  Larren and Clinton’s eyes met. Both men recalled how Em had bu
llied Larren that first night. Remembering, they began to snicker, quietly at first, but then they both broke out, convulsing with full and hearty relief.

  Eventually they sat down quietly on some bales of hay, their laughter spent, comfortably sitting in companionable silence.

  “Clinton … thanks for everything,” Larren said, aware that Clinton had intentionally reminded him of Em in order to cheer him out of his sudden black grief. Before Clinton could make comment, he raised a hand and continued, “No, no jokes this time. I’m serious. If you don’t mind, I’ll tell you that story now.”

  “Sure,” Clinton said.

  Larren told the entire account of what had happened, how he met Sartha through a routine check of Assurance, how they both felt connected and wanted to see each other again. He also spoke of Delian and Conqueror.

  Clinton interrupted only once, to ask Larren what happened to his men. Larren shook his head and looked away, unable to speak. He took a minute to gather his composure. He neglected the details of how his crewmen died, simply stating that they were dead, and he had been able to escape.

  He also related how Neopol used mindtap and Neopol’s plans to use memory implants so that he would believe he was guilty of destroying the people of Delian. He finished by explaining that he was a wanted man, a criminal, whose presence was a danger to the Williams family.

  Clinton sat calmly throughout and didn’t seem to be surprised by anything he was told. When Larren finished talking, he simply nodded and said. “Yep, I figured as much.”

  “You did?” Larren was taken aback.

  “Sure. I recognized you the first time I laid eyes on you. I’d seen your face on the UWG broadcasts.”

  “You recognized me but took me in anyway?” Larren’s was incredulous. Restless, he got up and began to pace.

  “That’s right.” Clinton nodded complacently. “According to the broadcasts, you gassed Delian. You had the people of the planet wiped out, stole the Delian Testimonials of Truth, and the King’s Mirror — both are apparently worth a fortune — and then ran away with the Queen of Delian. You did all that because you loved the woman.”

  Larren stopped pacing and his fists clenched white with rage. His Icom had relayed those broadcasts to him as well. They still were able to cause a storm of fury to rise up from within him like lava from a volcano.

  Clinton nodded again, fully understanding Larren’s wrath. “C’mon. Let’s walk outside.” They left the barn and moved together out toward the pasture. “One never realizes what a pack of lies those broadcasts are — until they see something the broadcasts have said about themselves, or at least someone that they know. Then the actual truth of the matter becomes painfully clear: The media communicates only what the UWG wants us folks to believe. Those broadcasts consist almost entirely of lies, the more sensational the lies the better.”

  He furrowed his brows, keeping pace with Larren. He glanced at him. “You in love with the Queen of Delian, well, that’s true, but they have twisted it and put it out of context. Made it dishonorable — but what a great story. Sex sells, and sex with royalty, well … Encompasses scandal within a world government, too. Stolen irreplaceable assets, you committing genocide …” Clinton looked knowingly at Larren. “Guess the only thing they got right was the love of the Delian woman, eh?”

  “Yes,” Larren said, his voice low. “Neopol found that through mindtap.” The mindtap ordeal sprang unbidden into his mind. With avid interest, Neopol had fired questions at him, demanding to know exactly what had occurred on Assurance. Thanks to mindtap, he had been quite unable to withhold anything. Every thought, every caress, every intimate detail, had been given to Neopol for his own distorted use. He recalled Neopol’s malicious grin, his laughter over each detail, his dishonorable interpretation of events, and his nasty comments.

  Larren’s stomach rolled in protest and his jaw clenched. His pace increased. He couldn’t escape that disgusting, soiled sensation. Neopol. God. It made him want to throw up.

  Clinton left Larren alone with his thoughts and trailed behind him, saying nothing. The minutes passed. Clinton jogging, caught up to him and said, “Here, let’s us set a bit,” Clinton suggested.

  They did, leaning back against one of many haystacks. The smell of fresh hay was soothing and comfortable in the afternoon sun. Larren calmed.

  Clinton said, “Yep, they sure have it in for you all right. You see, an out-and-out lie a person can usually stand up to. Simply speaking the truth can most times clear one’s name. But a lie mixed in with the truth …” Clinton shook his head. “Well, those are the worst kind. Someone only has to see you with the Delian woman, and then they know that the rest of the story is true.”

  Larren nodded grimly. Clinton was right. He would never have the chance to prove his innocence.

  “Now fair is fair,” Clinton said. “You told me a secret, now I’ll tell you something; and you better button your coat because you being an old-time galaxy policeman and all, this might not set so good with you.”

  Larren looked toward Clinton, puzzled. For a start he wasn’t even wearing a shirt, much less a coat. And secondly, what could comfortable, conservative Clinton be involved in that would disturb him?

  Clinton’s lips curved in an odd smile. He reached over for a long stalk of hay, and put it between his teeth. “I’m the head of the Alliance for Kalar. Truth is I didn’t hesitate in taking you in, Larren. I figured that if the UWG thought you were that bad, well, you just had to be good.”

  “No,” Larren spoke unthinkingly, shocked by Clinton’s disclosure. He was one of them. Head of the Alliance. He wouldn’t have been more surprised if Clinton had just admitted belonging to a pirate’s guild. The people in the Alliance were crazy. Completely insane.

  “Fact,” Clinton said. “Now you know what the League has against the broadcasts, and why we keep trying to disable those ships. We of the League don’t ever aim to kill anyone, not the police anyway. Most of the galaxy police are simply trying to do their jobs, though some of them are corrupt. It’s like most any profession, I guess.”

  “How long have you been in the Alliance?”

  “Oh, some twenty years or so I suppose.” Clinton snorted, clearly amused by the expression on Larren’s face. “I’m not some misguided newcomer if that’s what you were a thinking.”

  Larren shook his head, amazed.

  “I suppose you believe that we’re all crazy people, deluded into strange beliefs … quite mad, eh?”

  Larren opened his mouth, and shut it again. What could he say? That was exactly what he thought. Or at least he had believed that when he was a policeman. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  “Course you would,” Clinton chuckled. “That’s what the broadcasts say, see? They make people think we are crazy, that’s the line they use to discredit us. It works pretty well, don’t it? Oh, they are clever; I got to give ‘em that. But we’re pretty clever, too. Don’t you wonder how come Conqueror didn’t find your ship? Or you for that matter? They arrived in orbit not ten hours after you did.”

  “I thought I’d covered my tracks.”

  “You did pretty well, but we made sure of things. We had your ship melted down and re-cycled and confused the trace. They’ll never find evidence of you arriving here. Even destroyed your power chute.” He grinned. “That was a lot harder to find. I notified our tech people via Icom the moment your shuttle entered Kalarian air space.” Clinton nodded happily. “Oh, the UWG is good, but then so are we.” He took the piece of hay that he had been chewing out of his mouth, his expression intent and knowing.

  Larren said, “Do you know where the Lady Sartha and her son are then? I’ve been so worried. Neopol is intent on finding them and killing them both and he isn’t the type to give up.”

  “I’ve used all my contacts, but have no word of her or her son. She has covered her tracks pretty well too, it seems. I can tell you that Neopol hasn’t found her.”

  Larren breathed out with relief. “One thing I don’t
understand, Clinton. How did you know I was coming, or that I was here?”

  Clinton’s grin broadened. “I have my ways. The truth is I think that there is a chink in their armor.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know how, but it revolves around you in some way.”

  Larren had lost the thread of the conversation. He was becoming more and more confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “It wasn’t chance that your vessel landed here and that you met up with me. I knew you was coming. I saw you would be there, right where I found you. Oh, yes, the Good Lord had a hand in this, you can be sure of that. You see,” he confided, “I had a dream about you.”

  “A dream?” Larren asked stupidly. Clinton’s words were coming too fast to understand. He wasn’t sure he was hearing him correctly. The man made no sense.

  “God’s truth.” Clinton stared, trance-like, looking at the vision. “You see, first I saw this large snake. It was fat and evil and it was reaching out, destroying, and swallowing all of the United Worlds, one by one. The snake was being controlled, sent to consume and exterminate, by a gigantic, armored giant. Then you came along. I know it was you and there was a wolf with you, too. You tried to slay the snake, but the snake soon had you at his mercy. The snake was going to swallow you.”

  “The wolf was watching — not moving. Without warning, the wolf rose up and killed the snake. The armored giant stumbled, but didn’t fall. Instead it stood up again, but this time … it had lost its right arm.”

  Clinton came out of the absorbing memory and looked at Larren. “That was the dream. Reckon that to you it don’t carry much weight, but remember it if you can. You mark my words. That dream was sent by the good Lord, yes, indeed. And I know it was you in the vision. You’re the one that’s important now. You must wait for the wolf. Together you’ll seek out and destroy the snake … and the giant will lose its right arm.”