“Dregan hell.” Zical spoke loudly so not only the crew on the bridge could hear him but also those congregated on the deck below. “People stay together. Stay calm. Remember to keep Kirek hidden with our bodies. When we depart this ship, I want us to appear as if we are invited dignitaries, not a ragtag group of prisoners. First and foremost, we are representatives of the Federation and this is a First Contact with another race. Be adaptable, slow to take insult, and show them that we are a civilized people. Understood?”
Many of them didn’t understand. Although Dora spoke Rystani and Terran, she was no better off than the others. Without their suits to translate, they’d worked out a complicated system of communication to ensure that no one on board was left out. Cyn and Shannon both understood some Rystani. Cyn also spoke Federation and Zenonite, and she repeated Zical’s orders to Dr. Laduna, who in turn passed them on to his group of scientists. The system wasn’t perfect, but it worked.
When Zical spoke, his officers stood straighter. Even the scientists’ nerves steadied. It was a measure of their respect for the captain that everyone obeyed his orders without question in the face of danger.
The tractor beam deposited them on a landing pad. Heavy, armored alien vehicles on large tracks surrounded their ship, and guns pointed in their direction. Zical popped the emergency manual hatch, and a landing ramp unfurled.
Dora breathed in the first tropical scent of balmy air. So far, so good. It was hot and sultry, scented with spice; she waited to keel over from poisonous gases or lack of oxygen, but her lungs pumped in a normal rhythm.
Dora straightened the gold toga at her shoulder and peered through the hatch. Sweat trickled down her brow, and she wiped off the perspiration with the back of her hand. If she’d been wearing her suit, she’d have turned up the cooling, but she had no choice but to stand in the stifling ship as ordered. Her muscles might be flinching, her throat might be tight from tension, her mouth might be dry as a Drahanian desert, and she might be much more frightened than anyone else here, but she was damned if she’d show it. Knowing that she was taking a risk with her life, she’d chosen to be human. She’d arranged to come on this mission, and she was determined to be one of them, even if her stomach churned as if she’d swallowed rocks.
Expecting soldiers with weapons to advance, Dora tensed. But the door of the armored vehicle opened, and a woman stepped out, wearing so little that she had no room to hide a weapon on her person. Even from a distance, Dora could see her beauty. She was short compared to Rystani women, and her spiked pink hair framed a sensual face that was quite humanoid. She stared at them with aggressive curry-colored eyes that gave away nothing. Bare breasted, she wore a beaded necklace of multi-faceted royal pink stones, a muted coffee sarong, and brown sandals with straps that extended up her calves. She sported the muscular body of an athlete, but walked with a seductive sensuality that Dora would like to be able to copy.
Striding up to the ramp without fear, she stopped at the bottom and spoke in a voice bold, husky, and authoritative. “I am Avanti and this world is Kwadii.”
Dora had no difficulty understanding her words. She heard murmurs on the bridge as the crew realized that they could once again speak to one another in their home tongue.
His expression serious but calm, Zical strode down the ramp and stopped several feet before Avanti. The rest of them remained where they were in order to appear non-threatening. Dora held her breath, proud of Zical’s bearing. He appeared every inch the ship’s captain. Shoulders squared, chin high, he projected confidence, not arrogance, a perfect combination for first contact.
As the sun glistened off his powerful bronzed chest, Dora wondered if Avanti appreciated not only his masculine lines but his control over his emotions. Although Zical appeared calm, she knew he seethed with rage that the Kwadii had captured his ship, detained his people, and stopped his mission. Even if he could convince the Kwadii to release them immediately, the unscheduled stop that had yanked them out of hyperspace would add untold years to their journey.
“I am Zical.” He gave no other information, remaining silent, waiting—a measure of control that again made Dora proud to be with him.
“I, Avanti, am your appointed protector of life. I will do my best to defend you.” The woman spoke with a measure of frustration and belief that her words were nothing but the truth.
“Defend us? I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t, but all will be explained soon.” Avanti gazed past Zical to the others inside the ship. “Gather your people. I’ll take you to … where you will stay until your trial. Lack of cooperation will be dealt with by immediate execution.”
Zical motioned for them to join him. As much as Dora wanted to be by his side, she held back, waiting until others surged forward so she could remain next to Kirek, hiding the boy as best she could. Out here, with vehicles surrounding them, Kirek couldn’t possibly sneak away. So she kept him close.
Avanti had said she was their protector of life. The fact that their lives required protection didn›t sound good. However, they hadn’t been summarily executed, so Dora tried not to think past helping Kirek escape.
As Avanti turned and led them toward one of the pink stone buildings that surrounded the landing field that blended with the cityscape beyond, Dora marveled at the quiet. Most spaceports tended to be noisy. So did cities. But she heard no skimmer engines, although she saw flying machines overhead. She heard no talking, no vehicular movement; so although she was back in the pack, she could clearly hear Avanti’s dire news.
“Your people are charged with treason against the Kwadii. The crime is serious.” She paused for a moment, seeming almost reluctant to say more, then continued. “Even as much as a century ago, you would have been executed in hyperspace. However, my people, the Selgrens, have convinced others that the Kwadii should behave in a more civilized fashion. Since we have become more enlightened, you are entitled to a trial.”
Zical kept his tone as casual as if he were discussing what he would eat for breakfast. “We have never been here before. If we have violated your laws—”
“I’m sorry.” Avanti’s tone remained formal but sympathetic. “Unfortunately, ignorance is no excuse. Our Risorian law does not provide for exceptions. At the trial I will defend you to the best of my ability, and my ability is considerable.”
“You said we are charged with treason.” Zical kept his tone even.
“Yes.”
“What exactly did we do?”
“You traveled through hyperspace. That is not permitted.”
“Why?”
Avanti’s profile softened with sympathy. “According to our laws, it matters not.”
“It matters to me.”
As they left their ship, Dora turned back to see Kwadii men boarding the Verazen. Like Avanti, the men wore little more than a loincloth and sandals. Dora spied no weapons, yet she had no doubt these men were warriors, their military bearing and discipline was clear even from a distance.
As they swarmed inside the hull, Dora wondered if they’d examine the Verazen or take her apart atom by atom. If Ranth still survived in the vault, would they find him? She hoped that after they examined the ship they might turn off the dampening field, freeing the computer, but she considered that possibility unlikely. These Kwadii struck her as efficient, a people that left no detail unnoticed, and she shivered despite the heat.
“Any journey through hyperspace leaves a trail.”
“So?”
“Your trail through our quadrant might draw our enemy’s attention to Kwadii,” Avanti explained.
“You are at war?” Zical asked.
“Not at the moment, but we must guard against attack from a ruthless enemy that drove us from our homeworld to Kwadii. Our people are determined that our enemy shall not find us again through your hyperspace trail.”
Dora had no idea how long ago the Kwadii had settled this world, but as she recalled the great cities from space, she’d seen li
ttle signs of recent building activity. However, the stone buildings gave the planet an ageless feel. The cities could have been erected in the last century or over several thousand years ago.
“I know what it is like to lose a homeworld,” Zical wisely brought up what their peoples had in common. “Rystan was invaded, and my people also resettled.”
Avanti sighed, almost as if she did not agree with her own people’s edicts. “Then you understand why my people have set into law that we must rigorously protect ourselves. For all we know, you are enemy spies, sent here to assess our state of preparedness.”
“If you examine our computer systems, you will see that we are not in league with your enemy.”
“We will examine your ship, but I fear the evidence will not prove much in our court of law. The data in a computer system is only as valid as the computer specialist who enters the data,” Avanti countered without breaking her pace.
“Then how can we prove that we mean Kwadii no harm?”
“You can’t. But I promise I will fight hard for you. This policy was set eons ago out of fear. It is time for change.”
Dora listened to the conversation with growing trepidation. The Kwadii sounded fanatical, and fanatics often believed that any compromise was weakness. Yet, Dora had caught overtones of sympathy in her intonation, but perhaps that was the alien translators and had nothing to do with Avanti’s personal feelings on the matter. However, to Dora it seemed almost as if Avanti was spouting a line of propaganda that she didn’t believe.
Dora was far from giving up hope. Zical could be most persuasive. He’d convinced Tessa to fund this mission and the Federation to go along with the plan, then convinced the scientists to join him. She had confidence that if any man could find a way to extricate them from Kwadii, that man would be Zical.
They entered a large building. Inside the air was cooler and the benches, gates, and booths for flight personnel reminded Dora of many spaceport terminals. Except this site lacked other people. The kiosks were closed, the lights bright, leaving no place for Kirek to hide. Up ahead, Zical continued to speak with Avanti, and Dora was certain that while he spoke he was assessing and analyzing escape routes.
Kirek tugged Dora’s hand, and she leaned down to hear his whisper. “Behind us.”
At his words, she glanced over her shoulder. A man to the rear of their group, one of Dr. Laduna’s scientists, bolted from the group and attempted to duck out a side door.
“Return to us,” Zical ordered.
Lacking the discipline of the crew, the scientist kept running. Others paused to watch, their faces excited and filled with hope.
When the man touched the door, a laser beam sliced across the terminal, lopping off his head. At the sickening sight of the headless body crumbling, spattered blood, and the head rolling across the floor, Dora swallowed hard. One of the woman scientists screamed, her hand covering her mouth at the grisly sight, and another man led her away, his arm over her shoulders.
“I regret the loss of life. But please remember I did warn you.” Avanti kept walking through the building, her pace steady, but Dora saw her bottom lip quiver, another telltale sign that she didn’t necessarily agree with how her people treated strangers. They had no choice but to move on and leave the fallen scientist behind.
Dora could see by the fury in Zical’s eyes that he wanted to protest, but he swallowed down angry words, again setting an example for them to follow. No wonder Avanti didn’t fear them. With lasers hidden in the walls, at the first sign of escape or of violence, the Kwadii would slice off the offender’s head.
If not for Zical’s orders, they could all be dead. He’d been wise not to fight, astute not to try to escape without first assessing their circumstances. His decision had saved everyone who’d obeyed his orders, including Kirek. Stars. If Kirek had tried to escape, he would be dead. Dora couldn’t bear to think of his little body … dead, left behind with no one to perform a ritualistic offering over him, and her stomach churned.
Again Kirek tugged Dora’s hand. Again she leaned down. “The lasers are computer generated. I can hide from them.”
She wanted to beg him not to try. After what they’d just observed, she suspected these people wouldn’t hesitate to shoot a child. But staying with the rest of them didn’t sound promising either. So she asked, “You’re sure?”
Kirek nodded and kept his voice low. “I can feel the machines as easily as you feel my hand.”
“Okay.” Despite her fear, she would stay with Zical’s plan, even if the danger seemed to keep escalating. However, they had no way of knowing if their voices were being picked up by recording devices, if the aliens were listening right now and coldly plotting Kirek’s demise in some other fashion.
They exited the terminal and trudged toward a large hovercraft with no windows. Once again armored vehicles with guns pointed at them prevented escape, only smaller motorized carts, carrying tools, spare parts, cargo, and luggage rolled by. Kirek squeezed her hand tight, his way of saying goodbye, then he worked his way to the edge of their group.
Dora held her breath and forced her head straight ahead. She would not give him away, but tears misted her eyes.
When a parts cart rolled away from the space pad behind them, she glimpsed the boy as he leaped onto the cart. Dora let our her breath, watching out of her peripheral vision and damning her eyes that only saw in the forward direction. Tense, expecting Kirek’s body to be struck down at any moment, she kept walking forward. When he ducked behind some crates and nothing dire happened, Dora slowly resumed her normal breathing and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
Zical and Avanti had taken their seats on the hovercraft when she climbed inside. Already missing Kirek, Dora prayed for his continued safety, that somehow the child would survive by himself on a world full of strangers. Before Dora took the seat behind Zical, their gazes met, and she nodded slightly.
Her silent message conveyed that Kirek was on his own. She didn’t know whether to be elated that he’d deceived the Kwadii, sad that he was no longer among his own people, or grateful that he wouldn’t have to undergo a trial.
“Where are we going?” Zical asked Avanti.
“To a holding facility where we will prepare your defense. Your people will be given food, clothing, and medicine. I will see to it that you are well treated during your confinement.”
“How long until the trial?”
“Two days. I cannot delay. That is the time allotted by custom and given by the Kwadii Council to prepare. However, you should know that I have spent years studying our laws.” Avanti raised her chin and spoke with pride, but there was a glimmer of anger in her gaze that Dora didn’t understand. “I am very good at what I do.”
“This trial, is it public?” Zical asked.
“Yes. If we lose, so will be your execution.”
“Execution?”
“The penalty for treason against the Kwadii is death.”
Everyone heard the woman’s words. One of the female scientists fainted. Several men swore. Zical’s crew remained steady as Dora coped with battling fear and anger. Anger won.
“If you fear our hyperspace trail leading to your enemy, why don’t the Kwadii simply keep us on your world?” Zical asked.
“I made that very argument myself during another trial and won a reprieve. The Kwadii graciously allowed strangers to settle among us, but when they tried to escape, killing many of us during the attempt, our ruling council decided that being merciful was too risky.”
“How often do you win the release of your clients?” Zical asked, clearly trying to assess their chances.
Avanti’s lips tightened. “I have never won. The laws are against us. But I am determined that the outcome of your trial will be different.”
“We appreciate your help,” Zical hesitated, “but is our position any different from others you have defended?”
“I’m afraid not,” Avanti admitted. “But that won’t prevent
me from trying to save you and your people.”
Avanti’s determination was evident, but it sounded as if her best would not be good enough to save them. Dora caught Zical’s gaze and was reassured by his barely perceptible nod and an answering tenacity in his eyes. He had not given up. Neither would she.
KIREK RODE THE cart to a storage facility where robots reloaded vehicles. He hopped off and looked around, hoping to spot something to drink. The heat on this world already had him sweating, and his stomach didn’t feel too good since he’d left Dora and the others behind.
He spied lots of machine parts, plastic pipe, tools, and seeds, no doubt exports to send offworld, but nothing remotely edible. Since this facility appeared fully automated, he didn’t worry about anyone spotting him, but robots didn’t require drinking water or air-conditioning.
Hot and sweaty, he watched the robots load carts that returned to the spaceport. Eventually, supplies had to come in, and he planned to leave after the robots offloaded the exports. Searching for another option, he circled the building’s perimeter but a walk across the open tarmac toward the city in the hot sun would leave him too exposed to discovery.
He went back inside and found what appeared to be a communications terminal. He wondered if he could use it to send a message back to Mystique, but decided not to try. As much as he wanted to send one more message to his mother and father, he couldn’t risk detection. Besides, likely the technology wouldn’t match. Right now, his only chance to avoid capture was secrecy.
But as the hours passed and the lining of his throat grew more and more parched, he decided he might not make it through another stifling day without water. If a supply truck didn’t come during the night, he’d try to walk to the city. Not for the first time, Kirek longed for adult-sized legs. But wishing for a stronger body was as useless as wishing he were back at home with Miri. He napped in a corner and dreamed of his mom’s sweet biscuits, his dad’s powerful arms around him.
Rystani Warrior 02 - The Dare Page 16