Treasure Hunt (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 9)

by J. Naomi Ay

  Rent would have been happy to spend the entire four days there in the bed, but Alyssa wanted to go out and party a little, maybe do some shopping, and sit on the beach. So, they did and literally, within minutes, Rent's fair skin had burnt to a crisp. Of course, he hadn't bothered with sunscreen. That would have required an extra four coins that he didn’t have.

  Afterward, Rent was stuck paying for the doctor, which was ten times as many coins as he should have spent. Alyssa was extremely pissed off. In fact, she threw a tantrum while they waited in the doctor's office. Instead of paying for his examination, the aloe, and whatever else was prescribed, Alyssa could have purchased new shoes.

  "I'll tell you what," the doctor's wife said, taking pity on the newlywed couple. "On account of it being your honeymoon, Dr. Moonbeam and I have agreed we'll only charge you for the aloe but not our services."

  Rent was thrilled, but Alyssa was still annoyed as the tub of aloe cream came to eight coins. To pacify her, Rent treated her to drinks and dinner at a beachfront bar. Alyssa got horribly drunk. In fact, she spent a large part of the next night with her head in the toilet.

  Rent was perfectly fine with that, as his skin ached beyond recollection. He slathered himself with the aloe which mildly stung, and because it was wet and sticky, it got all over the thin motel sheets. By the time they returned to the other side of the planet where the newlyweds took up residence in Rent's parent's basement, Rent was in so much pain, he could barely move his limbs.

  Rent's job, at the time, was at a garage. Although never a particularly bright student, Rent had always been handy. Somehow, just looking at a thing, he knew how to take it apart and put it back together. Sometimes, he could even reassemble it in a better way. It didn't matter what the thing was either. It could be a vid, a tablet or a speeder. The thing almost seemed to digitize in his brain, and then in his imagination, he would move the bits around and create something new.

  Rent's mother thought he should go work for a big company that made things like SdK Corporation. Rent's father scoffed at this, as even with this skill, Rent was too stupid to figure out how to apply for a job.

  So, Rent's father arranged for him to work in his buddy's garage where Rent spent his days replacing struts, inflating tires, and washing a lot of windows. For this, he was paid a pittance. After all, the job was only due to a debt owed by his father's buddy.

  Rent was an amiable fellow, though, and was pleased to have something to do. He gave his earnings to his parents in exchange for rent of the flat in the basement, while Alyssa's wages as a hair stylist in the next town were saved for their own future flat.

  The truth was, Rent's name originated because of the rent. He was adopted, something his parents never failed to remind him throughout his childhood whenever he caused them a bit of stress. They were compensated by the state for having taken in a previously unadoptable boy, one who might have had a brain condition, although it was never diagnosed.

  Rent had difficulty learning, difficulty speaking, difficulty following directions, and difficulty doing just about anything one was expected to do. That made him worth quite a few monthly coins, enough to pay for their rent until he turned eighteen. Rather than think of a more intelligent name, especially one the boy might have trouble recalling, they named him Rent. This was also an inside joke between them. As long as the boy was around, his parents never had to worry about eviction.

  It never bothered Rent that he was adopted. He took it in stride as he took everything in life. He never questioned who his real parents might have been even though he looked nothing like most Dariuns on the planet. He was taller, with broader shoulders, longer legs and long arms. His hair was wildly curly and in a golden color, unlike most of his schoolmates who were dark with lank gray mops.

  Rent's eyes, everyone said, were his very best feature. They were an interesting almond shape and an almost colorless light blue. Rent had long dark lashes that fringed his lids in a pretty way.

  "Stop crying," his adopted mother snapped, as Rent's eyes, no matter his mood, always looked as if they were filled with water.

  "I'd kill for those eyelashes," Alyssa said, applying gobs of mascara to her own.

  Rent shrugged and mumbled something about Alyssa's eyes making him hot, uncertain why anyone should care so much about the way his looked.

  Alyssa didn't stay long, as previously noted. Whether it was the dank basement flat, her in-laws or Rent, whose eyelashes gradually lost their charm, she got herself a quickie divorce. All Rent had to do was sign on the dotted line as they had no assets between them to speak of.

  She took her shoes, her purses, her clothes and tubes of mascara, leaving Rent only the tiny gold band she had worn around her finger. Rent had saved for many months to afford that thin yet beloved symbol of their union. For a while, he kept it, wearing it on the pinky finger of his left hand.

  Unfortunately, one day at the shop, the ring got caught on an intake manifold of a broken speeder. To save his finger, it required paramedic extraction, sealant and antibiotics at the nearby hospital. Rent let the ring go, donating it to an orphan home to sell at their next charity auction.

  A few years later, when Rent was twenty-five, he applied for the job at the lodge on Six. It happened quite randomly. One moment, he was thumbing through an engine parts catalogue, memorizing the SKU codes for washers and screws, when an advert flashed in front of his face.

  "Start a new adventure in your life," it read. "Come to Six and experience a whole new world."

  A whole new world sounded good to Rent. To tell the truth, as amendable as he was, this life on Darius II had gotten a bit boring. He had never liked the hot weather, so zero degrees year round might not be so bad. He could certainly repair everything that went wrong in the motel. It most likely wouldn't be worse than his parents' basement apartment.

  Rent's application was accepted right away. Unbeknownst to Rent, no one else had applied. Off he went, pleased with his initiative and adventurous spirit. His parents complained mightily, as with Rent's departure, so did their rent. Rent invited them to join him on Six, to which his parents immediately waved goodbye, while putting in an application to adopt another difficult child.

  Rent was working the front desk late one night when a stranger stumbled into the lobby. That wasn't an entirely unusual event as the lobby was located right next to the motel's bar.

  However, the stranger was strange enough to attract Rent's attention. He stopped taking apart and putting back together the cash register and studied the man while waiting to see what he wanted.

  The stranger was a tall fellow with long and scraggly dark hair beneath a worn Stetson that had what appeared to be a bullet hole through the brim. He wore two loaded holsters at each side, buckled on to a thick leather belt with a tremendous silver buckle in the shape of a steer. His face was tanned and leathered, and he walked bow legged as if he had just gotten off of a horse. In fact, Rent wouldn't have been surprised if he had spurs upon his boots and the horse was tied up outside the motel.

  "Do you need a room for the night?" Rent inquired, glancing quickly at his log. He had two single units, no view, twin bed. Unfortunately, most of the prime rooms in the establishment had been booked out for the week as they were hosting a Duplicate Bridge tournament, of which a championship was at stake.

  "Actually, no," the man replied, laying his elbows upon Rent's front desk. "I'm looking for some assistance with my broken ship. Know anybody who can do a thing or two with an engine?" The stranger spat on the floor which Rent had just diligently cleaned.

  "Yes." Rent produced a business card and phone number for the mobile ship mechanic that worked this sector. "He's much cheaper than Vessel Assist, and he's only one planet over."

  "I don't have a lot of time to waste," the cowboy muttered, flipping the card between his fingers. "Know anybody else more local who might be able to come take a look?"

  "Well, I suppose I could," Rent said carefully. It was in the middle of the night
, and while he didn't expect anyone else to wander in, he couldn't just leave the hotel unattended. He'd have to lock up and forward the vid to an answering service.

  "You? You don't look like you could find your way out of cardboard box."

  Rent stared at the man and wondered how he knew. Cardboard boxes were Rent's biggest fear. They had frightened him since his earliest memory.

  "The docking station?" Rent swallowed hard, and then locking the till he headed outside.

  "Yep," the cowboy replied. "Saddle up, partner. You and I are going for a ride."

  Chapter 6

  Kiman took the lift down to the shuttle bay. As he whisked through the endless corridors of the Imperial Starship Queen of Rozari, he checked the power level on his lightsword and the sights on his gun. Satisfied that his weapons were fully armed and operational, he pocketed them and reached for his cell. Quickly, he sent a text to his wife and two sons, as he always did whenever he went on assignment.

  There was a note on his cell from his father, Lord Kinar. Kiman ignored it at first as his father tended to be chatty and Kiman didn’t want to be distracted from the details of the mission ahead. Something niggled uncomfortably at the back of his brain, though. Despite Kiman's best efforts to avoid it, he once again retrieved his cell and read his father's message. He read it three times, in fact, just to make certain he understood it correctly. When the doors of the lift swished open to reveal the shuttle bay and Commander Sam Psfa-a-a-whatever standing there, Kiman was reading it for the fourth time.

  "Hey, Kiman."

  "Hey, Sam." Kiman snapped his cell shut and looked at the short green Talasian.

  "How's the kids?" Sam whipped out his own cell to show off the latest pics of his daughter Carolie and son, Rory.

  Kiman forced his face into a sort of smile. "Cute," he mumbled and pointed at a plane. "Are you flying today?"

  "If you need a pilot?" Sam shrugged. "Do you want a scout or a plane?"

  Kiman chose the nearest scout, a newer crafted called, The Mosquito. It had a short collapsible wingspan and an even smaller footprint so it could land just about anywhere or alternatively, hover in the air. The tail of the craft, as all of the SpaceNavy's planes, bore the SdK logo of the ship's manufacturer.

  Kiman stared up at it for a moment. Then, his eyes drifted to the Imperial Crest on the wings. He tried to imagine the ship without these emblems. He tried to imagine the Empire without them, as well. This gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he climbed aboard the scout and sat down next to Sam.

  "Where to, boss?" Sam asked, initiating the power up sequence and backing the scout on to the runway.

  As much as Kiman enjoyed his life in the Imperial SpaceNavy, he despised traveling in these small crafts. The scout's name was appropriate. They were nothing more than insects out in the vastness of space. One wrong move, a fault in hardware or code, and they would be reduced to molecules drifting among the stars.

  "Lyra II." Kiman set the coordinates. Their destination was a pinprick of light. He adjusted the long range scan searching first for heat emissions in the patterns of Xironians and Rehnorians.

  "So, Rory wants to start playing football," Sam was saying. "But, Joanne is afraid he's going to get hurt. I told him another game would be more appropriate, you know? He could be very good at golf. He's never going to be all that big. Between Joanne and me, he'll be lucky to reach 5'5". Your boys are tall though, aren't they? All you Mishnese guys are a good size. My uncle Zem is a tall drink 'o water, but my dad was pretty short and passed on all that to me. What do you think about football, Kiman? Should I tell him just to forget it or let him give it a try? He's seven now. Well, actually almost seven and a half."

  Kiman tuned out of Sam's chatter, focusing instead on the chemical markers that were forming on the display in front of him. The long range scans had picked up the wreckage of the spaceplane. Unfortunately, it was now buried under twenty feet of hardened rock. Four rapidly decomposing bodies were inside. The DNA markers indicated three of them were Xironian adults and the fourth was a Karupta Rehnorian man.

  "There's no child," Kinar remarked, running the scans again. They weren't often wrong, and in this case, their second analysis proved identical.

  "Maybe she stayed home with a nanny?" Sam suggested as he adjusted the scout's vector.

  The Lyrian star shone brightly off the port bow. Kiman widened his search of the planet as they rapidly approached its thermosphere.

  "There are life forms," he noted. They were smaller, but warm blooded. They clustered like birds among the trees. There were also larger creatures, cold-blood reptiles, as well as smaller placoderms and cartilaginous fish.

  "I hate prehistoric planets." Sam shivered as the plane began its descent. "Uncle Zem said to avoid them at all costs. Did I ever tell you about the time my uncle Zem and the Empress, who was then Captain Katie, had a fight with dinosaurs on Altaris III. A whole bunch of guys were getting eaten until this tornado thing happened and then…"

  "Yeah, yeah." Kiman waved his hand at Sam to shut up and drive, as the planet surface was rapidly approaching.

  It was then that Kiman noticed, among a flock of those warm blooded bird creatures, another life form was emitting heat. It was small like a child. Its bones were soft and not fully formed, but the brain was highly advanced. The blood was warm, and the DNA markers showed both Xironian and Rehnorian flags.

  "We've got her," he announced and directed Sam to the location, which turned out to be near the top of a giant fir tree.

  Sara screamed when the scout ship hovered in the air above the nest, waking Lizwix and all of her neighbors. Though they were never known for bravery, the Lyrian people arose in a mass of fluttering wings to attack this new threat to their nasty but beloved planet.

  "I'm getting tired of these invaders," Matpat complained, as only moments earlier, he had escaped the raptor's claws.

  After Lawbre had been consumed, the raptor devoured Leswil, Petrep, and Bilhil. Now, he was resting comfortably at the top of a tree.

  "Shut up and fight, Matpat!" Lizwix snapped, flinging an arrow at the scout ship.

  The tiny stick did nothing but make a pinging noise as it bounced off the hull. A few others lobbed their darts, but again it was to no avail. The raptor, while cleaning his feathers, watched this with amusement.

  "What the hell is going on down there?" Kiman muttered as projectiles bombarded the ship. He unlatched the airlock door in order to rappel down to rescue the girl. A volley of sticks landed at his feet harming nothing, although the sulfurous smell of the planet nearly made him gag. Kiman took out his lightsword and incinerated the next round of rockets.

  "Whoa!" Matpat screamed when he saw this. "I'm out of here." He turned tail and flew away.

  The rest of the Lyrians took the hint and wished Lizwix good luck. Now poor Lizwix was left defending Sara all by herself.

  Sara, in the meantime, was screaming with fear. If she had bothered to open her eyes, she would have seen the familiar crest on the wings of the scout ship. She wouldn't have recognized the kind face of the Rehnorian man in the SpaceNavy uniform, but at least she would have realized he had come to her rescue.

  Instead, Sara tried to fight, thrashing her legs and arms at the spaceman, which only served to make his task more difficult. Eventually, Kiman was able to grab the girl about the waist while yanking on the cable to be pulled back aboard the ship, although Lizwix battered at his body the entire time.

  Lizwix flew upward with the aliens until they disappeared inside the spacecraft's door. Her tiny fists pounded on the vessel's hull until it rose too high into the atmosphere. Then, she drifted slowly back down, a tear forming in her eye, as the craft disappeared among the stars taking her child.

  It never occurred to Lizwix that the alien girl needed to go home. Her tiny brain just assumed the girl would have grown wings and become a sprite too. Lizwix had always wanted a daughter, and now she was back to living alone, unless she consented to the
honeyed nectar dance with one of the males.

  From the top of a tree, the raptor finished cleaning his feathers and sharpening his beak. Although he wasn't particularly hungry, he did enjoy a good chase. All those Lyrians were hovering nearby, busily chatting about the invading ship. The raptor could pick three or four of them off without even trying.

  He screeched to announce his intentions and to give them a moment's head start, causing Lizwix's blood to freeze in her veins with fear. Stunned and unable to move, she hovered in the air, right in the raptor's line of sight, but for some unknown reason, he left her alone and went after the others.

  Matpat was the first one to be snatched by the vicious claw, followed by Dogmax, Pedwed, and finally, Rodsat. When the raptor had filled his crop with all four of the now deceased male Lyrian sprites, he returned to the tree for a nap and to digest the creatures.

  Chapter 7

  Lord Berkan couldn't sleep. Despite his best efforts, which included three shots of his favorite alcoholic beverage, a glass of warm milk and finally, a pharmaceutical creation that was guaranteed to work within minutes, Berkan found himself tossing and turning in the enormous canopied bed. His wife, Luci lay beside him, her snores echoing off the marble walls of their Palace suite, blissfully dreaming as if she had not a care in the world.

  Some time, in the early hours of the morning, well before dawn, Berkan tossed back his blanket and began to pace the length of their bedchamber. His step was unsteady due to the medication, but his mind was clear, or at least he believed it was. The issue of the succession was front and center on his brain. It had been since he had last seen the Emperor looking dead in the hospital bed.

  Berkan had never imagined that Senya would ever die. Frankly, with his own heart troubles, brain aneurysms, bad back and everything else, Berkan was certain it would be Senya who would place him in the ground.