by HC Playa
Naia came back into the living room. "Ready to go?"
Katarina glanced down at her pajamas. "What do you think?"
Chapter 3
Zane's conversation with Katarina replayed in his head. He blew out a breath, resigned himself to a constant state of partial arousal, and channeled his thoughts into a more productive area, like hoping Coran knew what in blazes an email was.
He climbed down from his narrow bunk, stretched his long limbs, and walked over to the lavatory. Zane looked in the mirror at the shadow of a beard on his face. He retrieved the hair growth repressor from a drawer and flicked it on. He passed the round end over his face in steady strokes, removing the beard growth and painlessly injecting a follicular growth inhibitor all at once. Once finished, he turned the repressor off, returned it to the drawer, and then ran a hand over his now smooth face.
"Much better."
He stripped off his uniform and stepped into the small sanitation stall. A fine cleansing mist blasted him from head to toenails. He had three minutes of tepid water to work the sanitizer through his hair and rinse.
After the water shut off, he stepped under the dryer and warm air swept over him. His thoughts roamed to Katarina. Why did such brief contact with an alien woman affect him so strongly? Why did it even matter? The mission was supposed to take precedence.
He sighed. The passion he once felt for serving in IGCF no longer burned inside him. He went through the motions, but his life was empty. Zane grew tired of zipping from planet to planet, killing and cleaning up the carnage of wars and violence. He closed his eyes and forced himself to picture the worst scenario of the mission at hand; Katarina's blood on his hands. His stomach heaved and he doubled over. Malea omea, I can't do this anymore.
The drier shut off and Zane stepped out. He said a prayer to the gods his mother used to worship. If they existed, he hoped they cared enough for Katarina to keep her ignorant of his identity so that he did not have to kill her at the end of the mission.
***
Zane guided the ship toward the coordinates Coran entered into the computer. Through breaks in the cloud cover stretched expanses of green forests broken up with symmetrical fields, which he assumed were farmland. Zane tried to remember the last time he saw an actual farm and couldn’t recall. Much of their food came from genetically engineered tissues incubated in giant vats and the vegetation grew in hydroponics factories. Aside from rim worlds hosting colonies of transplanted civilizations, most planets didn’t have the space necessary for farming anymore. It was strange not seeing the typical glinting towers of cities rising into the stratosphere. He smiled, pleased that Earth remained somewhat natural.
The ship descended into a small clearing and landed in a valley in which no human life signs registered on the sensors. Zane powered down the engines and other unnecessary systems. He pushed away from the pilot's console, retrieving his pack in the process.
"I’ll check in every twelve hours, Earth time, or sooner if anything important develops."
Coran followed him down the corridor to the airlock. "Are you are sure you’ll be able to manage by yourself? As much as I hate to leave the computers, I can come with you."
"I’ll be fine. Computers are your specialty. Covert ops are mine. Besides, you know the mission directives as well as I do. You're to download, translate, and file as much information as feasible and I'm to get a human perspective by passing as one of them."
"Okay, but call me the second you need anything." Coran hit the button to release the airlock. It cycled while the computer analyzed the atmosphere outside.
"I will."
"I’ll forward the meeting location to you when I get a response from the email." Coran put a hand on Zane's shoulder. "Be careful, Zane."
He grinned, knowing his reply would annoy Coran. "Aren't I always?"
***
Zane sighed and shoved his hands inside his pockets to warm them as he walked. The sounds of foreign night animals and insects filled the air. He wondered what they looked like in the light of day. Not long after the stars came out, Zane reached a road that he followed west. When his hands were warm, he took out his computer again and searched for information on the woman he would soon meet. It took more effort to read English than speak it. Still, with effort, he managed to find bits and pieces of Katarina’s life.
Coran's search of public records revealed Katarina's position as molecular biologist specializing in immunology and that she old had one living relative, an adopted sister, one Naia Sheffield, recently married. Zane, however dug deeper. He discovered a trip to a country called Ireland when she was nine, her father served in the military, and both parents succumbed to the Reaper virus ten years ago. Katarina held a number of renowned accomplishments in the scientific arena. Her banking information told him she spent her money wisely. All the contacts in her email cross referenced to scientists she either worked or collaborated with. What he found painted a picture of a woman living a life focused on work with minimal social interaction. It occurred to him her digital footprint mirrored his after a fashion, which meant she was expendable. In the event she discovered his identity, her death would cause few ripples. That observation left him feeling sick to his stomach rather than satisfied.
After following the road for about an hour, an ancient looking ground vehicle rumbled down the road. The driver slowed the vehicle to a stop near Zane. An older man with a weather worn, sun-tanned face, a mop of springy gray hair, and kind gray eyes hollered out the window, "Need a lift, sonny? I’m goin’ far as Chattanooga."
It took Zane a few seconds to register what the old man offered. "Thank you, sir. I would be grateful for the ride." Zane climbed into the cab of the truck, set his pack at his feet, and concealed his computer inside his pocket.
"Name's Geoffrey." The man held out a wrinkled hand, so Zane did the same and the man took it in a firm grip and then let go.
"Zane."
"Nice to meet ya."
"What's in Chattanooga?" Zane asked. Experience taught him that getting others to talk about themselves kept attention off of him.
"Meh grankids. The lil' tykes are growin' like weeds."
"How old are they?"
Geoffrey watched the road with a smile on his face as he told Zane all about his grandchildren. The occasional remark from Zane to spur further conversation about the man's life kept him from asking any awkward questions. Puzzling out words through the man’s accent and tortured grammar gave Zane a headache, but the alien language flowed more freely as the vehicle trucked along.
Hours passed and a sliver of moon hung high in the sky when they arrived in Chattanooga. Geoffrey dropped Zane off at the shuttle station.
"Now don’t linger in the street, son. They don’t have a curfew or nothin’ like they done up near ol’ New York afore Reaper hit, but it ain’t safe to be by yo’self."
Zane smiled and waded through the man’s contorted English to figure out what he meant. He closed the vehicle door and spoke through the open window. "I’ll go straight inside. Thank you." With that, Zane turned and the old man drove off. He entered the station hoping that not everyone spoke as that man.
Steel and glass gleamed under fluorescent lights, and his footsteps echoed off the shiny tiles. An automated machine passed by as it cleaned and polished the floor. The cleaner scented the air with a light citrus fragrance. Zane took note of the bored security guard and nodded a greeting. The guard lifted a hand in return and then went back to watching a large screen across the room where a man discussed something involving an oblong ball and men fighting each other to catch it.
A handful of people occupied the large open lobby of the station. Five meters away an adolescent boy with shaggy brown hair and brightly colored clothing slouched on a bench next to a middle-aged woman. His foot swung back and forth, kicking the bench across from him. The woman leaned over and said something to the boy which made him scowl and cease kicking.
Several benches over, an old woman dress
ed in worn and soiled clothes sat on the bench dozing. Close to the large screen, a man in rumpled, but good quality clothes sat and worked on a hand held computer. The remaining occupant of the lobby, a man dressed in a dark matching coat and pants, fidgeted and looked at his watch every few seconds. None of the people looked at Zane twice.
Zane made his way to a ticket kiosk.
"How may I help you?" a computerized voice asked.
"I need a ticket to Memphis, Tennessee."
"One moment…"
"The next shuttle leaves at 5 a.m. tomorrow. Would you like to purchase a ticket or search for other departure times?"
"Purchase a ticket."
"Please insert your debit card and prepare for a retina scan."
Zane did as the machine instructed, confident Coran’s fabrications would pass inspection.
"Identity and account confirmed. Would you like to purchase a frequent traveler program?"
"No."
"Processing transaction. Thank you for traveling with TransAmerican Shuttles." A minute later the machine spit out his debit card and a wafer thin plastic ticket engraved with his name, destination, and departure time. Zane pocketed the items and went to a vacant bench. A glance at the human's computer as he passed by made him feel confident that his would not raise suspicions unless someone got a very close look. He could message Coran and fine tune the meeting plans.
Hurry up and wait; the motto of soldiers everywhere, Zane thought as he sat down and took out his computer.
Chapter 4
Katarina sat in bed attempting to catch up on paper work. The clock on the nightstand glowed five thirty a.m., but she kept working. She made outlines for a couple of papers and finished a grant renewal due in a week. She graded quizzes from her graduate genetics class. When the words blurred on the page and she stared at the same scrawled answer for five minutes without the foggiest idea what it meant she gave up. Katarina pushed the piles of plasti onto the other side of the bed and buried under the covers.
"Lights off," she called out. The lights extinguished and she started to drift off when a storm of emotions pelted her like a hailstorm. She jerked upright and stared into the darkness as she examined her mental barriers. A "door" in her mind stood open. I know better than that! She shook her head at her lapse and started to slam it shut when she recognized Zane’s psychic imprint. His pain created a vortex that latched onto her empathic senses, making his feelings rage inside her as if they were her own.
It went against her nature to turn from anyone in pain. Katarina avoided social contact for that reason. Their pain became hers, and she could only tolerate so much anguish. Katarina hesitated for a minute before calling out telepathically, but he didn't respond. She touched his mind and found him locked in a nightmare, unable to hear her. Katarina closed her eyes and did something she never dared with anyone before. She sent her mind into Zane’s. His mental barriers were gone. Either he didn’t know how to maintain while sleeping, or the nightmare destroyed them.
She sought his unconscious mind and joined him in the dream. Katarina planned to wake him and then get the hell out, but she forgot that strategy when her mental avatar melded with Zane's subconscious mind in the midst of his nightmare.
Mist gave way to a scene painted in dark shadows.
"He's surrendering? He's not even supposed to know we're out here," Zane said. Through his eyes she stared at the man in front of her. She wondered who he was and Zane's mind supplied the information.
Captain Jandori, of the local enforcer squad, shrugged. "One of his spies probably spotted us. Who cares? Command wants him, and I'm in charge. I'm giving the order to go in."
Zane rolled his shoulders and looked up at the unimposing three-story residential compound. "Captain, allow my men to sweep the place with a deep sensor first."
"And let the Goloth Emperor escape while we're sitting out here like cowards? I don't think so." Captain Jandori tapped the control on his comm unit. "All units; proceed with caution into the structure." Jandori left cover and led his troops across the deserted street to the compound. He didn't wait to see if Zane followed him.
Zane tapped his own comm unit. "Lieutenant, please tell me you've got something on those scans."
"Sorry, sir, but he's got the place protected with layers of sensor scramblers, jammers, and an EM shield. It's taking time to get through it all."
"Can't you just cut the blasted power?"
"Already done. He's got power generators in there."
"Kraghak!" Zane cursed.
"Sir?"
"Nothing, Plaswer. Just get me the readings as fast as you can. Jandori is moving in." Zane broke off when he saw Rhea's distinctive form following the local Enforcers. "And my troops are going in as well." Zane tapped the comm off and cursed again. He double checked his laser rifle before joining the surge of troops. He hated joint ops like this because the locals always insisted on being in charge, even if it was an IGCF matter.
Zane flicked the safety off and the power cell let out a high pitched whine as it charged the lasers. He scowled as he moved his rifle to a ready position. No matter what protocol dictated, Rhea should have awaited his command. And she wonders why I refuse to promote her.
Just as Zane stepped forward to join his troops, a deafening explosion buckled the ground beneath his feet. He fell to his knees, which saved him from the fury of flying debris that blasted past and rained down. His ears rang and he coughed as dust and smoke filled the air. Zane scrambled to his feet and steadied himself by placing one hand on the building that protected him from most of the blast.
At first the dust and smoke shrouded his view, but he moved ahead despite it, squinting as his eyes watered and stung from the smoke. Small debris fires burned here and there, but the fire retardant chemicals impregnated in the building materials prevented a full-blown conflagration. Zane moved into the blast zone and came upon bodies. He checked one after another, even when logic told him no one could survive the blast which left nothing but a crater twice the diameter of the building which stood in its place moments before.
When the bright light of search beams cut through the haze, he realized the high pitched wail wasn't ringing in his ears, but sirens. Emergency workers rushed passed him as he turned his back on the disaster. Not until the emergency response vehicles cut their sirens did he realize his comm was beeping. He tapped the device.
"Zane!?"
"I'm here, Coran."
"What happened? Sensors recorded a huge energy surge just as I got through the last jammer."
"He blew the place. I don't think anyone survived."
"No one? Rhea?"
"I'm sorry, Coran."
The comm remained silent for a minute. "Are you all right?"
"I'll be fine. Do whatever scans you can from orbit. See if this was something he might have had in place for some time or a last minute 'Kraghak ti'."
"Yes, sir."
Zane deactivated his comm and then hunted down the local in charge so he could give a report. A wiry Ardacian female at the center of a cluster of vehicles shouted orders to personnel. He headed toward her. She spotted him and said something in a rapid flow of language that he didn't comprehend. He opened his mouth to ask her to use a computer translator, but stopped mid-breath. Fear washed through him accompanied by a flash of phantom pain in his midsection. He doubled over as the pain stole his breath. An image came to life in his mind. A heavily muscled Goloth in battle armor held a bloody xaraq and wore a malicious grin.
At the same time his brother whispered his name, "Zane." The thought reached him and ended almost like a breath. Then the connection snapped.
"NO!"
The Ardacian woman backed up a step at his yell and then in the way of dreams, she disappeared. In her place, the chaos of the explosion morphed into an equally gruesome scene. The switch caused a break in the flow of thoughts which allowed Katarina to pull out of Zane's point of view and become an objective viewer instead of participating in the
horrific events. These were not simple dreams. The crystal clarity of the images and the soul wrenching emotions convinced her he was reliving a memory.
Katarina's stomach lurched as once again broken, bloody bodies surrounded her. Instead of outside in the night air, she now stood in what looked like a cavern. Katarina tried not to look at the gore around her as she sought Zane in this new horror, but everywhere she turned the bodies lay in heaps. She skirted around a dead woman in a black outfit that reminded her of a SWAT team uniform. Katarina came to an abrupt stop. The purple creature at her feet was not human. The technology and languages hinted at the truth. The body on the floor proved without a doubt that Zane came from a world far beyond her own.
She heard Zane’s anguished voice.
"Qior!"
Her surroundings tilted and twirled like a dizzying ride until she stood beside him. Zane held a lifeless young man in his arms and tears left a trail through the soot covering his face. The young man wore a blue uniform stained scarlet with blood. Katarina edged closer. The dead man's face lacked the hard lines of Zane's more mature face, and aside from a few subtle differences around the eyes he looked like a mirror image.
"What happened?" she asked before she thought better of it.
Zane looked up and blinked at her, but didn’t seem shocked to see her. Rage darkened his eyes. "Karglock. He attacked the station while we tried to apprehend Goptemock."
Katarina felt bile rise at the memory of the explosion. "Who was Qior?"
Zane’s eyes closed and he whispered, "My half-brother." He bowed his head. "It’s my fault. I should have protected him."
“Did you do everything you could?"
“I tried. Yawaha, I tried."
Katarina recognized pointless guilt when she saw it. She carried her own share over the years. "Then the only person at fault here is the monster who killed all of these people. I’m sorry you lost your brother, but he wouldn’t blame you for his death."