[“One more thing,”] Kaufield decided swiftly. [“Are you sure you can trust that Vasten fellow?”]
[“Not yet, not completely,”] said Adam in response. [“I know he tried to kill me twice, but the Captain was the one who ordered the Crasel to be left behind in the first place. As for dumping me out into space, well, once again we must consider the source of the order. This Captain Saou is a real piece of work – he has a tendency to draw his sidearm and shoot people if he doesn’t like what they’re saying or doing. Vasten has to work with him every day and doesn’t have my defenses, so I’m willing to cut him some slack on this one. Next to the Crasel, he’s as honorable a man as you’re going to find in the Wasteland, unless we reach deeper into the smaller clans. And they don’t know anything useful. These guys do.”]
[“How soon will you be underway?”] asked Thomas, his usual inquisitive nature getting the best of him.
[“Less than thirty minutes, probably. We’ve got to get out of here rather quickly, now that you mention it.”]
[“Why?”]
[“Because Vasten recruited Captain Saou’s chef to serve with us. He wants us to be very far away when Saou notices he’s going to be eating what his crew eats, or we might find ourselves in another battle.”]
Laughing at Adam’s comment, Kaufield glanced briefly at the computer displays showing statistics on Adam’s brain activity and anxiety levels. Everything appeared to be normal. [“We’ll let you know if we find anything useful in the warship’s database,”] he promised.
But Adam wasn’t finished talking to them. [“Both of you served shifts today as my Sentinel,”] he reminded them. [“Isn’t Glen back up in orbit, working on the Pathfinder? When you go home to sleep, who takes over as my Sentinel on the night shift?”]
[“Glen is indeed back in space,”] confirmed Kaufield with a wry smile. [“We were planning for it to be a surprise in an hour or two.”]
[“Okay then, I’ll await the big surprise. Someone’s coming though. I’ll chat with you later.”]
Thomas continued to sit in the swivel chair with a wide smile on his face. “My brother, leader of the great Wasteland revolution,” he commented idly with an amused chuckle.
“If we keep having this much luck, that statement may turn out to be more truthful than you might otherwise expect, young man.”
Aboard the Yakiir warship…
In a brilliant green flash of energy, the stolen battle cruiser emerged from its third Point-to-Point transit and hung suspended in space. Safe space, Adam Roh thought to himself with satisfaction. It was almost an hour since his conversation with his brother and Dennis Kaufield concluded, and the Pyrhh was now very far away from them. Captain Saou was on his own now, and it pleased Adam considerably to know that he and the worst of his crew were no longer capable of interfering with his objectives. He leaned against the main computer console in the Command Center, smiling as he stared out the windows at a small group of sparkling stars. The remainder of his view was obscured almost completely by a misty, bluish-orange fog.
There were lots of dead stars in this area, suns previously destroyed by the quashing weapons. Adam had chosen this particular spot to settle in for a while specifically so that he could study the after effects of the explosions in greater detail. Everyone who lived in the Wasteland knew that the deeper you ventured into it the more intertwined nebulae tendrils one encountered. The pair of Zaketh officers who had assisted him in plotting the transit jumps turned abruptly and pressed a palm to their foreheads, saluting the arrival of Snee Vasten. Eager to speak with him, Adam turned to welcome the Pyrhh’s former squadron commander, raising an eyebrow of surprise.
At some point since their last conversation, Vasten had taken the time to shave off the hair on his head… all of it. He looked so completely transformed, in fact, that Adam initially failed to recognize him. “Well, it’s pretty obvious what you’ve been doing,” he finally said with mild amusement. “Do you have news?”
“Some,” grunted Vasten with a wry smirk, rubbing his bald head somewhat self-consciously. “I told your Crasel team mates to go and get some rest. My men will guard the quashing weapons for the next shift, and they will do so honorably. I personally guarantee it.” He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting briefly downward before continuing. “My men have no secrets. They are talking about Bok and his terrifying appearance, but also about all of the things that you said and did. These discussions about magic are making the Yakiir extremely nervous.”
“We’ll be fine,” Adam assured him. “We’ll keep your men on shift at all times with the Yakiir who claim to have changed sides. You and I will watch for and identify troublemakers. Anyone suspect can be locked up with the rest of our prisoners.” It looked as though Vasten wanted to say something more, but he was clearly hesitating. “What?” Adam prompted him firmly. “What is bothering you?”
“I wanted to apologize, first and foremost,” said Vasten sincerely in response. “The major reason I shaved my head was so that I can use it as a symbol, both for myself and my men. This is a new starting point for all of us. Captain Saou is a terrible man, and even though he was my commander, it was me who actually followed his orders… first to leave you behind on the supply shuttle and secondly to help guide you into the bomb trap.” His eyes were still cast downward as he spoke the words, before finally glancing up to meet Adam’s gaze. “I want you to know that I am very grateful that you have… gifts… that the rest of us do not have and that you survived. Your observations are entirely accurate – this ship does appear to be brand new, and that presents us with quite a puzzle out here in the Wasteland. Somehow, the Yakiir have gained a foothold and they are using it to overpower the other clans.”
His comments didn’t seem to end things. Snee Vasten continued to look very upset, fueling Adam’s determination to discover specifically why. “That can’t be all that’s bothering you,” he persisted. “I’m willing to trust you. That’s why I recruited you specifically for this assignment. So tell me what’s wrong?”
Vasten looked down toward his boots again, quite shamefully. “I may already have failed you,” he replied bluntly. “Something has happened with my men that I consider to be extremely dishonorable. Those who initiated the problem are already locked up with the Yakiir, but there are others just as guilty… people we’re going to need in order to run this ship effectively.” He shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t want to bother you with any of this while you were busy up here in Command. But now…” he trailed off hesitantly.
“What happened? Tell me. Trust me.”
“There was a female officer in the Yakiir crew, something that is completely out of the ordinary and unprecedented on Clan vessels. And, as I told you, Captain Saou was an extremely terrible role model.” The impact of what happened was clearly tearing Vasten apart. “I am a soldier, as are my men,” he stated emphatically, as though he was trying to convince himself more than anyone. “But they are still men, and many of them… many… of them… assaulted… her in a violent sexual manner.”
The meaning behind his words finally became clear. Adam nodded gently in response. “As you pointed out, Captain Saou is a terrible role model,” he reminded Vasten while accessing command recommendations from the tactical database. “You’re going to have to drop the emotional baggage of who you were on the Pyrhh, and soon. I need you here and now, functioning at peak efficiency.” Sighing deeply in response to the unexpected announcement, he silently evaluated the consequences. “Is this woman still alive?”
“Barely.” Vasten’s expression was one of barely contained fury. “No doubt she wishes she wasn’t.”
“Where is she?”
“For the time being, we moved her to the port side Mess Hall. I ordered my medic to begin treating her wounds as soon as I found out about this. Then I disciplined the perpetrators.”
“Are their other women serving with the Yakiir?”
“At least two.”
Adam exhaled slowly, shak
ing his head. “Please take men you trust and find out how many there are. We had better isolate them in private quarters or they’ll be in just as much danger. If you take care of that task, I’ll go determine the fate of our victim.”
“Aye, sir.” He turned to go, but Adam’s voice stopped him.
“Vasten. We will find out what’s going on in the Wasteland. There will be tough times, and this is one of them. We need to choose our battles carefully and use this ship to trick the Yakiir into revealing their secrets to us. That becomes impossible if we allow the things we cannot change to bother us. I’m with you. You did not do this terrible thing.”
“Aye, sir.” This time he did leave.
Adam reached out and activated the ship’s all-call. “This is Adam Roh, your new Captain speaking,” he stated curtly. “There will be a general meeting for all new crew members in the starboard Mess Hall in four hours. Attendance is mandatory. For the time being, the Command Center, starboard cargo bay and the engine room are off limits. Anyone seen lurking around these areas of the ship will be arrested and detained with our other prisoners. Welcome aboard, good luck to us and to a new beginning as we work together in search of answers that may well end up changing the future of the entire Wasteland. That is all.”
Moments later, Adam left the pair of Zaketh in charge of the Command Center.
*
Another armed pair of Snee Vasten’s soldiers was watching the entrance to the Mess Hall. Everyone else had long since cleared out and they were no doubt still taking a good look at their brand new ship. Adam pressed a quick palm to his forehead in response to their proud salute and then made his way into the room where he had first confronted Captain Saou. He could see the body of a slim woman lying next to a row of long chow tables, the Zaketh medic was also present, kneeling next to her. There was a cold pack on her bandaged head, and Adam noticed that her uniform had been torn completely off of her. What she had been wearing underneath it was literally torn to shreds. Immediately he felt as though he was towering over her in what must certainly seem to be an intimidating presence to an assault victim. So he dropped down to a crouch and knelt next to the Doctor. The medic glanced back and sized him up curiously.
“I’m Adam Roh,” he said, introducing himself. Studying the bruised, bloody face of the attractive young woman, he reached down and wiped stray locks of dark brown hair from her sweaty forehead. She flinched in response to his touch, so he settled for picking up her hand and holding it lightly, warming her fingers with the body heat from his own.
“They call me Bru Marj,” the Doctor replied. “It’s an honor to meet you. I have heard good things.”
“How is our patient?”
“Well, quite obviously she has been sexually assaulted by numerous men. I was going to give her a sedative, but she refused… told me she wants to spend her last few minutes alive.”
“The men who did this will be punished,” snapped Adam brusquely. “Before we’re done with them they will wish they had never met this young lady. Injuries?”
“There are bruises, cracked ribs and both of her arms have been broken. She’s not bleeding extensively in any way, but I’m afraid that the assault… the numerous assaults that she has been subjected to have affected her mental stability as thoroughly as any of her physical injuries.”
“Prognosis?” Adam glanced expectantly at the burly figure of Bru Marj.
“There’s nothing more I can do,” he shrugged, expression wan. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“Can we move her to private quarters, somewhere more comfortable?”
“They shouldn’t have moved her at all.”
“Understood. Then would you leave us alone please?”
The Doctor’s expression remained dour and filled with discouragement as he nodded and picked up the supplies on the deck and replaced them in his portable kit. Adam was already slapping at the side of his own medical kit, the one concealed along his lower leg, even before Bru Marj finished stepping through the exit hatch. Searching through the implant’s data files for medical information, he watched the container of medical supplies slowly appear as its protective invisibility field shut down. Choosing a heavy pain killer that would not knock her unconscious, he administered it wordlessly, admiring the deep brown color of her eyes. Dark trails of a mascara-like eye make-up had followed the sweat and tears rolling down both sides of her face.
“Who… are you?” she asked weakly, her eyes focusing on his face for the first time. “Another Doctor?”
“No,” he replied with a friendly smile. “My name is Adam Roh.”
She tried to laugh but failed, coughing uncontrollably instead. “The new Captain?”
“I helped the Zaketh take control of this vessel, and would like to sincerely apologize for the way you have been treated. I swear to you that I would have prevented this from happening, had I known an attack on you was taking place.” Grabbing hold of her hand again, he massaged it gently. “What is your name?”
She smiled back at him for a long time before responding. “Ali,” she told him finally. “Ali Rinai.”
“I wish there was more we could do for you Ali Rinai,” he said sincerely. “Unfortunately, time is short.”
“Talk to me Adam Roh. I would like to talk.”
“About what?” he asked curiously, surprised at her demeanor, all things considering.
She studied his expression, sizing him up. “You have… questions about me… about the Yakiir?”
“Let’s start with you,” he suggested. “What do you do on this ship?”
“I’m a Point-to-Point engineer… a specialist in transit technology.”
“Then we have a lot in common,” he replied, smiling warmly down at her. “I’m only a soldier for now, and only by need. I also work with PTP hardware, when I’m not getting shot at that is.” He noticed her head lying on the cold metal floor and cautiously propped it up on his knee, smoothing her hair back with one hand. “Your instincts are accurate. The only reason I’m in the Wasteland is to learn more about your Clan, the Yakiir. I was sent here to learn how they’ve managed to gain so much of a foothold over the other clans.” He studied her with gentle curiosity. “Will you tell me about your people, maybe just a little bit?”
“Like what?” She squinted at him through blackened eyes. “Clans fight each other… it is the way. Ours wins many battles because we are strong.”
“Why do you use quashing weapons? I have seen that this ship carries them.” He looked at her expectantly. “Destroying entire suns devastates the surrounding planets in the solar systems as well, denying precious resources to all sides. How is it your people have so much when the other clans have so little?”
“The Caucus orders us to. No one defies the Caucus without consequences.” She smiled weakly for the first time, remembering things from a life that he could not possibly imagine. For an instant, Adam was tempted to use the implant’s thought capturing ability again, just as he had with Bok. But he hesitated, primarily because he was uncertain as to whether or not her injuries would make her susceptible to harm from that kind of a wireless ‘extraction’. Normally, the recipient shouldn’t feel anything, but in this particular situation the last thing he wanted to do was cause her even more pain.
“What is the Caucus?” he asked instead.
“They are our ruling council.” She paused, watching the reactions on his face with interest. “You are not a soldier,” she told him suddenly, declaring it as though it were undeniably so. “Your eyes are so unbelievably kind and compassionate… I cannot imagine one such as you actually killing someone.”
Memories of the supply vessel’s crash through the shuttle flared angrily in response. “I have killed,” Adam admitted. “But you are correct. I am not a soldier by choice, and even while serving I do so reluctantly.” He continued to smooth her hair, noticing the Doctor had left a jug of water and a cup setting nearby. Picking them up, he filled the mug and held it out so that she could t
ake small sips from it. “How is it that this ship and its equipment are so new?” he asked curiously. “Have the Yakiir truly gained a foothold somewhere?”
“Long ago,” she stated dully. “Clans that do not try to do so are stupid. The war could have been over centuries ago, maybe even sooner than that. The Caucus would not allow it. When I was a small child, my grandfather once told me that the Yakiir have many footholds, many planets and resources to choose from. He claimed to have seen them with his own eyes.”
“Did you believe him?” he wondered, curious to know more. Anything more would help.
She laughed at his ignorance, savoring his obvious naïveté. “I am a hardware specialist,” she emphasized, repeating her earlier claim. “I was taken from my family as a small child and trained to be a scientist who works on one of those worlds. I learned how to be what I am by working planet side, laboring long and tirelessly there for countless seasons. It was a beautiful planet and I had a husband and children. Somehow, we fell out of favor with the elites and that was all it took. My husband was imprisoned and I was ordered to serve in the fleet for at least a quorum if I ever wanted to see him again. And my children…?” She trailed off, expression turning wistful. “When I last saw them they were pre-teens. Now they are adults, and I have no idea where they are or who they might have become.”
He could see the spark of life fading in her eyes and watched her drift uncertainly between this life and the next. “How did you fall out of favor with the elites?” he prompted, doing his best to keep her focused on the land of the living for at least a while longer.
“I don’t know… never have.” She shook her head side to side, barely able to manage even that much movement. “The Caucus… those who make the decisions… they don’t have to tell you anything. It is the way. It is the way things have always worked.”
“Well don’t you worry,” he told her softly. “Your children and your husband will all hear from you again. And one day, everyone will know your name. This vessel and its crew will end the war, and I have decided to rename it to honor you… we’re going to call her the Ali Rinai.”
The Pathfinder Trilogy Page 53