Trapped On Talonque: (A Sectors SF romance)

by Veronica Scott

  “What will we do next? In the morning? Strange to be talking like this again after so long, actually making plans. It feels a little frightening.”

  Nate gave her a hug.

  “The lady has a good question. What are you planning for us to do tomorrow?” Thom characteristically brought the conversation back to the nuts and bolts of their continued escape.

  Nate stared out to the sea, where the whitecaps of the incoming waves were visible in the gloom, marching to the beach in sets about six feet high. The sound of the water was rhythmic, soothing. A night bird warbled a few liquid notes as it skimmed along the sand close by them.

  He took a deep breath. It was hard to force his tired mind to assemble the next set of moves. Relaxed for the first time since the sequence of events started light years away from Talonque, which eventually brought them crashing onto this damn planet, he craved freedom from responsibility. Not home free yet, and you’re in command. Everyone’s depending on you to make it go right for them. He sat straighter, squaring his shoulders as he took on the weight of the command duties he’d mentally set aside for an all too brief time.

  “We can’t stay here too long, idyllic though it’s been so far. In the morning we’ll check out what else is left in this hut and the outbuilding and junk pile in back. See if there’s anything we can use. I want Atletl to take a trip to the fishing village, do some trading. We need sandals for Bithia, at a minimum, and local clothes for all of us would be nice. I don’t want to march through the land resembling a deserter from Sarbordon’s legions, you know?”

  “We already got rid of those damn helmets. And I ditched the leather breastplate in the tunnel, which was another major improvement, let me tell you. The green uniform and black cloaks ain’t too bad, if a man’s gotta wear a kilt. I’m getting kinda fond of this cloak, actually. Got a nice weight to it. Pocket comes in handy,” Thom said. “What are you thinking to use for trade goods? The blankets? Whoever lived here must have been pretty poor.”

  “Celixia took care of that,” Nate said. He removed a green leather pouch from the pocket of his cloak. “She slipped me this as we were leaving the warehouse site.”

  “What’s in it?” Bithia asked curiously.

  “Coins. Gold, I believe. I have no idea how much they’re worth, but Atletl should be able to stretch them while bargaining in the village. She said we’d need money to escape if I was successful in releasing you from the chamber.”

  “A woman who definitely plans ahead.” Thom’s voice held approval. “If she wasn’t already spoken for, I might have to break my own rules about permanent involvements.” He checked for Nate’s reaction to this hoary old joke between them and guffawed.

  Nate shook his head. “That’ll be the day when you settle on one woman on any planet.”

  “After Atletl completes his trade duties, then what?” Bithia asked.

  “We head inland, avoid trouble, try to locate our ship and hope like hell Haranda was right about it being spaceworthy.”

  “I don’t want to think so far ahead tonight, if it’s okay with you,” Thom said. “Kinda had a full day and a half straight here. I like the idea of pretending to be on leave at some recreational beach somewhere in the Sectors. Tahumaroa Two maybe. Spent a good three weeks standard there once.” Thom leaned against the hut and stretched. “I’m content with no worries, no schedule, nothing to do the rest of tonight but cook these fat birds and then eat, followed by a good night’s sleep.”

  The three of them sat in companionable silence. Fat dripped from the roasting birds onto the fire with hissing sounds. A breeze sprang up, and the sound of the ocean came to them more clearly.

  Nate realized from her soft, steady breathing that Bithia had fallen asleep despite her reluctance. He settled her more comfortably in the circle of his arms without waking her and looked across the fire to meet Thom’s worried gaze.

  “What are you going to do about her when we re-enter the Sectors? How we gonna protect her?”

  “I won’t be the first Special Forces guy to come home with the local girl who saved his life on-planet,” Nate said. “The Sectors turns a blind eye to that kind of thing—you know the drill. I marry her, she becomes a citizen, I retire, we drop out of sight. Simple.”

  “Not simple.” Thom’s objection was immediate. “You know damn well when we do our mission debrief that there are going to be gaping holes—hell, monster black holes—in the story. How do we keep Command from realizing you’re the first Special Forces guy to come home with an honest-to-goodness, living ancient alien citizen? I know she ain’t actually AO, but she’s from a time way before ours, with answers to a few mysteries.” Thom frowned, apparently not liking where his thoughts took him next. “Sectors government is generally fair, but thinking the authorities’ll leave her alone is a stretch. Let her vanish with you? Seven hells, it’s technically against the law for a private citizen to own even one broken piece of an AO relic. And you want to marry a woman who is an AO, for all practical purposes? Have a normal life? Good luck, soldier! You may be able to shield the knowledge of who she truly is when Command debriefs you, but I ain’t got your ability with mind blocks.” His face bore a mournful expression. “I won’t be able to stop myself from betraying you.”

  Unfazed, Nate sought to reassure his friend. “I know a guy who can help.”

  “Unless he’s at the top of Sectors Command, or maybe the President of the Sectors Ruling Council, I don’t see how.” Thom shook his head dubiously. “This is serious stuff.”

  With a flash of gratitude, Nate realized the depth of Thom’s genuine concern about Bithia’s fate. So he opened up a little more. “When I was a kid, we moved constantly, lots of Sectors. My dad was a high-ranking officer, and my mother was in the diplomatic service. They were assigned to each new station as a team by the time I was born. We even got posted to Mellure once, for embassy duty.”

  Thom whistled softly. “Tough duty to pull. I’m fascinated, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t see what your childhood adventures have to do with us here on Talonque, nor with taking care of our lady there in the future.” He scratched idly at a bug bite on his arm. Nate stayed silent, staring at the fire, not volunteering anything else. Thom asked another question. “The Mellureans don’t let anyone set foot on their planet. Aren’t the embassies all on a separate moon?”

  Nate nodded. “The Mellureans don’t mix much, and only on their own terms. There was a pair of brothers I spent a lot of time with—D’Aloun and David. David and I were the same age, both space mad to get into the Academy. His dad was Space Marines, going four generations back. So anyway, we three bonded tight, raised some hell in the outworlder colony on Mellure’s moons. We were outsiders, no matter where we went in the Mellurean system, even at the school for embassy staffers’ kids.”

  Thom added a few branches to the fire. “How does this help us protect Bithia from becoming government property and poked and prodded and forced to help solve AO riddles? I’m not following.”

  “My friends’ mother was Sarinda Van Dorn Garcia, the First Mind of Mellure. Heard of her?”

  “Who hasn’t?” From his tone, Thom was impressed.

  “Years ago she volunteered to join an Archaeology Service dig on Chichnir Six. Captain Tomas Garcia was in charge of the guard duty. The expedition got marooned during a Mawreg incursion of the Sector. Eventually, the group was rescued, along with Sarinda and Tomas’s first son, D’Aloun Tuan.”

  “Wait a moment, I think I’ve heard about him, or rumors at least.” Thom’s hazel-green eyes got wide. He studied Bithia with new understanding.

  “Right.” Nate nodded, betting he knew what Thom was thinking. “D’Aloun’s not actually their son. He’s half AO, half genetic Chichnir Six. It was another ancient tech deal kind of like what happened to Bithia. I don’t know all the details.” Nate shrugged. “No one does outside his own family. But I do know D’Aloun is the only man in the Sectors legally allowed to collect as much AO stuff as he can get
his hands on. He does special jobs for the government and has one hell of a lot of gravity, power and pull in the highest circles.” Nate gently moved a strand of Bithia’s heavy blue hair off her face. “He’ll help us. His mother will help us.”

  “After all these years, you think Sarinda’s going to remember you? No offense, but she’s…a busy lady.”

  Nate watched the fire for a few moments, recalling old memories. Reflecting on the past wasn’t usually in his character. Especially not in the middle of a mission with the outcome still in doubt. He continued with his story, for Thom’s benefit, revealing something he’d never told anyone before. “Sarinda sent for me right before my father got his orders for the next assignment. Me alone. Not even my parents were included. I don’t think my folks were ever aware she and I’d talked. Sarinda told me I had unusual abilities for a Terran-descent human, untapped potential at the genetic level, she called it, and if I wanted, she’d arrange for me to stay on Mellure with her family. She offered training for me in the human version of Mellurean mental powers.”

  Busy basting the birds, Thom whistled. “Unheard of to receive such an offer.”

  “At the grand age of fourteen Terra Standard years, the idea didn’t appeal to me. Not at all, not for a second.” Nate laughed at his younger self’s brash refusal of, and total lack of appreciation for, what had been an unprecedented opportunity. “I was within a Terra Standard year of going into the Academy. It was all set. My father had pulled strings since I was conceived to be sure I had a place in the class of ’03. That was what I wanted. So I thanked her politely, and the meeting was over. I don’t think she was surprised either. But I’ve never forgotten her parting words to me.”

  “Which were? If it’s not too much to ask?”

  Nate closed his eyes, visualizing the kind, concerned face of Sarinda as she’d concluded their secret conversation so long ago. “The offer stands, Nathan Michael Reilly. When you’re ready, find D’Aloun, and he’ll bring you and those in your care to the sanctuary of Mellure.” Quote finished, Nate opened his eyes to find Thom staring at him, eyes wide.

  “She gave you a prophecy?”

  “In a way.” Nate nodded. “I never discussed it with D’Aloun. Actually, I don’t think I’ve seen him since. David and I had a few classes together at the Academy, but we sure as hell didn’t talk about his mother.” Gazing at Bithia, he was stunned by an unaccustomed rush of tenderness in his customarily guarded warrior’s heart. “I figure those ‘abilities,’ as Sarinda termed them, or the genetic potential she told me I had, are what let me communicate with Bithia, made me so sensitive to the damn machine used to pressure her, to waken her in the healing chamber.”

  “I remember the first day we saw her. I thought you were going to die right in front of me when he activated the mechanism,” Thom said. “Worse than a Mawreg neuron interrogator whip for you, but Haranda and I didn’t suffer even a mild twinge.”

  “If our ship’s in one piece, and if we can find our way to the Sectors, which are both big unknowns to me at the moment, then our first move is to get to D’Aloun. Before we report to Command. We get to him, and all three of us will be okay.”

  “All three of us?” Thom resumed his seat on the flat rock, leaning forward to rotate the roasting spit again. “Why should he—or his family—care about me? I’m not marrying an ancient alien.”

  “The authorities will want to know what you know about the AO now too. That’s what Sarinda must have meant, about her offer extending to me and those in my care. I’m not leaving you out of this, not after all the years we’ve been watching each other’s six.” Nate stared at the foam-crested waves. “We’re all brothers in the Teams but the two of us—you’re the flesh-and-blood brother I never had. You’re coming with me.”

  Thom made a show of turning the spit just so, apparently buying time to get control of his emotions. Finally, he said in a reasonably steady voice, “So we’ll become high-priced government consultants, I guess, specializing in the interpretation of AO sites? Partner with your guy, D’Aloun. We’ll have one hell of a trade secret—a competitive edge nobody but nobody can beat.” Thom laughed, clearly relishing the idea. “Only I ain’t getting rigged out in those Inner Sector cit suits—not this boy!”

  “We won’t ask you to. D’Al and I’ll do the business stuff, and you can concentrate on the fieldwork.” Nate changed the subject. “Those birds done yet? I’m starving, in case you haven’t heard my stomach complaining.”

  Roused easily from her first real nap in millennia, Bithia was ready to share the delicious roasted birds once Thom proclaimed them done enough to eat. Nate woke Celixia and Atletl to dine also. Quite the cheerful group sat on the porch and in the soft sand, drinking pure spring water as if it were the finest wine and demolishing the greasy game birds like they were gourmet fare.

  “Tomorrow I need you to reconnoiter the village at the headland,” Nate said to Atletl. “Buy supplies, see what the news from Nochen is.”

  “And then?” Atletl inquired.

  Nate stretched, strained muscles protesting at the expansive movement. Everyone wants to know what I have planned next. Good thing for all of them I have plans. “Much as I’d like to take a second day to rest at our charming beach hideaway, I think we’d better be on the move inland. The situation should be unsettled now with the capital city gone. The balance of power will be up for grabs, there’ll be renegades from Sarbordon’s army, bands of your people—”

  “You envision chaos, in other words,” Bithia said, head tilted.

  He nodded. “I’m betting we can slip through the general disorder unnoticed if we keep a low profile. We need to make it to our ship and we can get out of here.” Nate pointed one hand at Atletl, gnawing on one of the fat drumsticks. “I hope you and Celixia are willing to guide us inland to our ship. You know the terrain better than Thom or I do, which is to say not at all. I’m not sure how helpful Bithia’s holo maps will be. Their detail was sketchy at the level we need for travel cross-country.”

  Atletl waved the drumstick in the air. “Am I not sworn to the service of the Lady? If playing guide is what she wishes of me, this I will do before I go in search of my own army.”

  “We may meet them on the way. Wouldn’t surprise me,” Nate said, hoping they didn’t cross paths with any bodies of armed men, Githholz or otherwise. He was going to do his best to avoid such encounters at all costs. “Celixia, you on board for this?”

  She frowned, daintily chewing and swallowing before meeting his eyes. “What else is there for me to do? My city’s gone, my whole way of life—my reason for living, in fact. Now there’s no Sleeping Goddess to be watched over and tended, my servitude is ended, but I’ve nowhere and no one to go to.”

  Atletl frowned, pulling her into his lap. “We settled your future earlier this night, priestess.”

  Blushing, toying nervously with her skirt, she eyed him sideways. “If you’re sure—”

  “It is clearly meant, possibly even foretold. You were the watcher over the Lady, and I’m one of her chosen warriors. How can you doubt we were destined to be together? Besides, we’ll spread the true story of what happened to the evil city of Nochen, how the power of Fr’taray and T’naritza destroyed it in a single day.” On that epic note, he took another bite of drumstick. “Our gods vanquished Huitlani at last and wiped his atrocities from the world.”

  Nate rolled his eyes as he and Thom exchanged grins. Even Bithia was hiding amusement. Their former teammate was as grandiose and self-assured as ever. None of the recent events had changed him in any respect. Celixia drank in his rhetoric as if she needed the supreme self-confidence Atletl displayed to bolster her own.

  The meal, delicious as it was, settled in Nate’s stomach heavily. It was the first substantial thing any of them except Bithia had consumed since before the sapiche games. As he finished the last scraps on his makeshift plate, he was yawning. Nate divided guard duty for the rest of the night between himself and Thom, ostensibly be
cause Atletl was going to hike to the village in the morning. On general principle about who should handle high tech weaponry, he wasn’t planning to relinquish one of the alien weapons to the Githholz soldier, and no one would be standing guard without one, end of discussion.

  Atletl and Celixia retired to the interior of the hut, making only a polite, token protest about the generosity of having the indoor accommodation to themselves. Atletl unlooped the old, coarse quilt serving as a door, obtaining as much privacy as possible in such a flimsy dwelling.

  Nate created a nest of blankets for himself and Bithia at one end of the porch. He sat wrapped in two of the thick coverings, braced against the wall, Bithia leaning against his chest. He held her safe. Slowly, his eyelids drifted downward, and he let himself float into an untroubled sleep for the first time since crash-landing on this planet.

  Roused by a low rumble of faraway thunder, Nate woke to find Bithia gone. He struggled to his feet, fighting clear of the blankets, Mark One in his hand, trying to control his panic at finding her missing. Three steps took him to where Thom was standing guard.

  “It’s all right; she’s at the edge of the water,” he said as Nate came up beside him. “I’m keeping an eye on her, but she said she wanted to be alone for a while.”

  “How long?”

  “Maybe an hour? You must have been exhausted to the bone not to wake when she got up. Guess you needed sleep.”

  “She’s had all those centuries of it.”

  After holstering his weapon, Nate grabbed the white blanket Bithia favored as he left the porch. Barefoot, he walked in the moonlight to where she stood, inches above the waterline. An occasional wave washed gently over her feet. Fresh off the ocean, a breeze carried a hint of rain to come. It was a mellow night.

  “You okay?” he asked in a low voice when he was about four paces away, not wanting to startle or scare her.