Inherit the Stars

by Tony Peak

  The Troopers all frowned, though none commented. Seul took position beside the airlock and donned her helmet.

  After magnetizing Terredyn Narbas, Seul stood back while the sliding doors opened. Auxiliary One readied his beam rifle, then hesitated.

  “Captain Jaah, the lock has already been cut.”

  The clamps on the airlock’s four sides had been sliced by a beam weapon. Seul signaled her squad, and Flanks Three and Four flung open the doors with a pry bar.

  The interior lay shrouded in absolute darkness, but after a few steps, faint running lights activated along the bulkheads. The same quarters she’d studied over Vstrunn greeted her again.

  “If those lights came on, everything else should have, too,” Seul said. “Stay alert, everyone.”

  Hefting her baton in zero-G, Seul waited as her polyboots magnetized to the floor. “Point Two, Flank Three, and Flank Four, follow me. The rest of you, stay here.”

  Seul continued into the bridge. No one sat in the seat or gyro harness, so Kivita must be in her cryopod, if she still lived.

  After a few minutes, Seul passed the living quarters, galley, and launch-capsule entrance to an even smaller cryo chamber. Stillness ruled the empty trawler. As the cryo chamber’s lamps ignited at her presence, Seul gaped.

  Cut marks lined the far wall. Sliced bolts and cooled slag floated over the floor. Energy couplings dangled from the wall and floor in the zero-G, having been disconnected from a large device.

  No cryopod waited within the chamber.

  Kael’s voice came over Seul’s helmet speaker. “Captain Jaah, scanners have detected a departing beacon signature leading back to the Tejuit system.”

  “All Troopers, return to the shuttle,” Seul strained to say. “There is no sign of Kivita Vondir, and her cryopod is missing.”

  After boarding, Seul had a Trooper close and seal Terredyn Narbas’s airlock. For some reason, she wanted it protected, as if Kivita still lay inside. Asleep in a frozen tomb, like Niaaq Aldaar himself.

  Cryoports snapping, she entered the cockpit. “Take us back to Tejuit, Officer Kael. Commander Vuul must be alerted. We will not enter cryostasis this time.”

  Seul turned without waiting for an answer. With the cryopod gone, she dismissed theories of Kivita sending Terredyn Narbas here unmanned, to fool pursuers. Someone had taken her while Kivita slept in cryostasis.

  More than ever, Seul feared for her race, the Vim, and her red-haired friend.

  • • •

  “Stop,” Kivita whispered through chapped lips.

  The Kith crushed the Sarrhdtuu warrior with its hulking arms. Three more Sarrhdtuu, gilding over the floor on their gray-green coils, sliced the Kith apart with sicklelike blades. Kivita’s point of view switched to her seeing everything from the tower’s crystal floor. Blood formed a pool around her as the last Kith defenders collapsed under Sarrhdtuu beamers. Each dead Kith dissolved into fine metallic dust.

  One Sarrhdtuu propped her up against the wall. Kivita’s sight dimmed as the Sarrhdtuu holding her produced a red gem—the Juxj Star.

  Something burned her gums. Her eyes fluttered.

  The cryopod hatch opened. Kivita coughed and wiped pseudoadrine from her lips. Feeling returned to her chilled limbs as she tried to rise from the cryopod, but her stomach flared with pain.

  “Wait until I truly come back for you,” Cheseia called, exiting her own cryopod. “I must certainly check our location.” The Ascali slipped on leather boots and left the cryo chamber.

  Like she wanted to move. Besides, Kivita hadn’t wanted to wake just yet, since she’d hoped to glimpse the crash-landing on Susuron again. Whoever had collected data into the Juxj Star had been present for so many different events. It wasn’t possible, since the viewer from the Sarrhdtuu attack must have perished.

  Cheseia came back dressed in chaps, polygreaves, and a jiir headband. “I will help you get adequately dressed. Your condition surely demands attention.”

  Minutes later, Kivita gritted her teeth as Cheseia finished tugging an envirosuit on her. “Now place your left hand around my waist and simply lean into me.”

  “I’m not a cripple,” Kivita said.

  “You will be, unless you attentively listen.” Together they neared the starboard airlock, Kivita wincing with each step. Her left leg burned, and soreness stabbed her right arm.

  “Where are we?”

  Cheseia pulled the airlock lever while Frevyx powered down around them. “I have certainly never been here.”

  They stepped into a short, circular tube magnetized with Frevyx’s airlock. The transparent sides revealed a star-studded void with a yellow sun millions of miles away. Several gas giants orbited it.

  “Tejuit?” Kivita asked.

  Cheseia said nothing while they passed through the tube and into an airlock bay filled with supply crates. Two terminals blinked with small screens, while three circular hatches waited under dim lamps.

  The center hatch opened, and Jandeel entered the bay, smiling. “Welcome to Luccan’s Wish.”

  “The Thedes?” Kivita whispered, tasting blood in her mouth. She slumped against Cheseia, her scalp tingling.

  “Summon the medics!” Jandeel called.

  A sharp throb pierced Kivita’s gut.

  22

  Kivita tried to straighten, but stumbled into Cheseia. “No, I need . . .”

  Pain stole her words, seared her thoughts. To stifle a cry, she pressed her face against Cheseia’s shoulder. The Ascali’s fur smelled of exotic bark vapors, used for perfume on certain worlds. She tried to think of such places . . . anything to ignore the pain.

  “Stop moving,” Cheseia said in a gentle tone. “The medics are certainly coming. You should not be foolishly walking.”

  “Going to meet them.” Kivita grunted and took another step. “On my feet.”

  Cheseia shared a look with Jandeel, and they helped Kivita along. Jandeel limped, favoring his right side.

  They entered a large chamber filled with lockers, cushioned seats, and bright lamps. The smell of sweat and stuffy air filled the space. Six men and women in polyarmor waited, kinetic pistols in hand.

  Jandeel held up a hand to the guards. “The human tested positive on a brain-pulse scan. We can question her later.”

  A door on the other side of the chamber opened, and two humans and two Ascali rushed through. They brought medical satchels, a collapsible stretcher, and cold packs.

  Shivering, Kivita tried to stand on her own again. She’d never been in a stretcher, never required surgery. All her ills and aches had been healed during long cryosleeps while wrapped in blue tape. She didn’t need all this . . .

  Cheseia helped Kivita onto the stretcher after the medics opened it up. “Her bruised stomach still prevents her from truly walking. She has certainly not coughed up any more blood since we arrived.”

  “Anything else you’ve told them about me?” Kivita winced and held her abdomen.

  Cheseia didn’t answer as two guards escorted the Ascali from the room. Jandeel nodded once to Kivita, then followed Cheseia. The medics lifted Kivita’s stretcher and carried her; each corridor they passed through had a slightly different scent. She guessed the pressurized atmosphere needed more regulation. Patch welds and mismatched bulkheads hinted at constant repairs.

  In the infirmary, two autohelpers swerved and clicked in one corner, caring for a dozen different patients on cots. Both consisted of nothing more than metallic cylinders on wheels, with ratcheted arms ending in pincers. In another corner an Aldaakian medic talked with an Aldaakian mother, who held an albino infant.

  Over a scarred terminal an image flickered, showing a man holding a blue hibiscus flower and describing it. Kivita wondered if it was a hologram, something only Inheritor prophets were allowed to use. How did these rebels get one?

  The Aldaakia
n medic approached, while the others lifted her from the stretcher and placed her onto a cot. The cot’s coarse fabric creaked beneath her. Cheseia entered the room and stood beside the cot while the Aldaakian examined Kivita’s eyes, ears, and mouth.

  “She is not unfortunately contaminated.” Cheseia smoothed her mane back, eyes darting everywhere.

  The Aldaakian medic sniffed. “She may require surgery.”

  Kivita squirmed on the cot. “It’s not that bad, really. I don’t want—”

  “To die.” The Aldaakian placed a mask over her mouth and nose. The air inside it stank of thick musk and seemed to fill her mouth with sand. She tried to speak, but her eyes wouldn’t stay open. Hands tugged off her envirosuit.

  The familiar tingle traveled across her temples and forehead. What would she see? Sar, escaping the Tejuit system? Stupid Juxj Star. Why couldn’t the damn thing show her the future instead of the past?

  The pain in her stomach subsided.

  When she reopened her eyes, Kivita lay on a softer cot in a different room. White, indigo, and yellow hibiscus flowers surrounded her in red-brown pots. The air reminded her of a crisp Haldon breeze, and soft light came down from large ceiling lamps. Light gray walls surrounded her, along with eighteen other cots. Only four cots contained a patient.

  The circular door hissed open and Cheseia entered, still wearing her breechcloth and headdress. A thin white tunic contrasted her dark mane.

  “Your fever has finally relented. The medics worried you would tragically enter a coma.” Her soft voice caressed Kivita’s ears.

  “Coma?” Kivita asked, her tongue thick with pasty medication. “How long have I been lying here?”

  Cheseia knelt beside the cot and studied Kivita’s hair. “I truly envy your mane color. Of all the lovely hues humans have, I have always liked yours the best.”

  Kivita snorted. “C’mon, how long?”

  “Six Haldon days. The surgeon repaired your awfully ruptured stomach and properly set your right shoulder. Your other bruises have truly healed.”

  “Yeah?” Pushing down with her arms, Kivita lifted herself into a half-sitting position. Her right arm, left leg, and stomach gave no ache, though all were numb. Confidence swelled in her chest.

  Kivita sat up completely and touched Cheseia’s mane. “Seems you saved my life, then.” The Ascali’s long tresses resembled the finest threaded ply rather than hair, and the fur on her cheeks felt like plush cushions. No wonder Sar had taken up with her. Kivita wished she were this beautiful.

  Cheseia smoothed Kivita’s hair. “It is what Sar truly would have wished.”

  The tension between them was so damn petty in light of recent events. War loomed between the Inheritors and Aldaakians, pirates wanted to sell her to the Sarrhdtuu, and Sar could be anywhere. Kivita decided to swallow her pride for once.

  “I didn’t want him to take my ship. I . . .” Kivita’s throat tightened. “I’m not angry with you for loving him. For keeping him happy, since . . .” Emotions spilled up from within her as she realized years might have passed wherever Sar had escaped to. He might be older, with gray in his lovely curls. He might be dead.

  “He will certainly find us. I think you amazingly opened his heart, Kivita. If not for you, I truly doubt Sar would have humored me.” Cheseia smiled.

  Kivita’s laughter eased the tension in her throat and chest. “Yeah? I had to push myself on him at times. He’s not like a Naxan seducer, who won’t leave you alone. A gal has to approach him on his own terms.”

  “Which you definitely did not, of course.” Cheseia grinned.

  Kivita laughed louder. Two other patients looked in her direction. “No, you’re right there. Just barged into his feelings when I wanted him.”

  They shared a long, thankful look.

  “The medics say you are certainly well enough to leave this infirmary. I know you tire of what Sar and I endlessly tell you about yourself and the gem. Now you will hopefully see.”

  Kivita balked. “Wait—where is it?” She lifted the thermal blanket, as if the Juxj Star might be in the cot with her.

  “Navon has it, though he supposedly has not studied it yet. He awaits you, once you have satisfyingly eaten.” Cheseia helped Kivita up from the cot.

  Kivita opened a small locker and changed from the white shift into her polyboots, chaps, gold-meld breastplate, and maroon bodyglove. All had been cleaned and repaired. A new red pillbox hat had been set aside for her. She donned it all in a hurry, eager to meet the infamous Thedes. So far their kindness had refuted more of the Inheritors’ lies.

  Leaving the infirmary for a long corridor, Kivita stared at the intricate Ascali claw graffiti along the walls. Rhyer had told her the Ascali of Sygma carved poems and songs into trees or mud, which dried into stone. Away from their homeworld, the graffiti was applied with paint or glue, like the examples before her.

  “Those are lyrics from the ‘Chant to Revelas,’ right?” Kivita pointed at the graffiti. “My father once went to Sygma. Told me they sung him the most gorgeous songs.”

  Cheseia studied Kivita with wide eyes. “You truly know this? That would certainly explain the graffiti I saw on your ship.”

  Kivita smirked. “Yeah, I’m not just another Inheritor farmer. I’m cultured. Well, a little.”

  Another circular hatch opened, and Cheseia led her into a galley where people sat at tables cobbled from spare motor parts. A rectangular viewport, twenty feet long and ten feet high, remained sealed. Hibiscuses, orchids, and flowered cacti lent the place a peaceful ambience.

  Kivita received curious stares from the others, a collection of mixed races and origins. Naxans drank reed ale with Ascali, while Tannocci and ex-Inheritors ate with a few renegade Aldaakians. A burly Sutaran woman laughed with a swarthy Freen man. A few children cried or played beside their parents. One Ascali male sung low, soothing notes accompanied by a man playing a nine-pipe reed whistle. Placards of old feudal nobles hung from the bulkheads, crusted with age.

  Cheseia nudged Kivita to the serving counter. “Wood-snake milk, please.”

  Leaning on the counter, Kivita cleared her throat. “A protein slab, jiir tea, and some sugared reeds. How much?”

  The server, a middle-aged woman with curved tattoos along her temples, handed the food over. “Stars shine and wink, miss. Costs nothing, since you are on our rations list. You’re the one who’s brought Vim knowledge? The one Sar Redryll sent us? Blessings of water and sun on you, miss.”

  Kivita’s cheeks warmed. “Um, yeah. Blessings of water and sun to you, too.”

  She accepted the food and walked with Cheseia to a table beside the viewport. As they sat down, a few in the galley pointed at Kivita and whispered.

  “What was that all about?” She sipped the jiir tea; its sweet warmth, tinged with a wholesome aftertaste, warmed her heart, as well. Accustomed to bawdy spaceports, Kivita hadn’t expected such respectful friendliness.

  “Luccan’s Wish is visited only by other Thedes and allies who can be sincerely trusted.” Cheseia drank her milk, then licked the brownish-white foam from her lips. “This is truly also my first time here. Sar secretly spoke of it often.”

  Kivita munched a sugar reed. “How many live here? How far from Haldon are we?”

  “This cruiser houses more than four hundred right now, but can accommodate double that number,” Jandeel replied as he neared their table. “Our best scientists, Sages, and tactical leaders plot all Thede activity from Luccan’s Wish. We departed from an uncharted location near Tejuit. The Inheritors would have paid a hefty price for those coordinates.”

  “Departed? For where?” Kivita almost stood up, but Jandeel raised a hand.

  “Navon will reveal that when you meet with him. Kivita . . . this ship never leaves the Tejuit system, so that Thede agents know where to send reports. That’s how important this signal is.” He grima
ced and limped beside them.

  Kivita grunted, chewing the salty protein slab. “So, how’s that wound?”

  Jandeel gave a slight bow. “If you hadn’t convinced those brutes to make that shabby tourniquet, I may still be in the infirmary. Sar spotted me and signaled allies on the hive ship to help. I repay a good deed in kind, Kivita. I’ve convinced the others that you aren’t a spy. Please don’t make a liar out of me.” He grinned.

  A dark-skinned Dirr boy approached their table with childlike curiosity. Kivita offered him one of her sugared reeds, which he took and ran back to the serving counter. She smiled and studied the other children. Healthy, happy, well cared for. The life her father would’ve wanted for her. The life she’d once dreamt of with Sar.

  Jandeel nodded in the children’s direction. “They are our future. Raised here in peace and educated by our resident Sages.”

  “Guess that’s you, huh? You always do a brain scan when someone visits?”

  “One cannot be too sure in these times. When you have finished your meal, come to Level Six. Navon has been waiting to see you.” He left them alone, walking slowly.

  “Wow, all these kids . . . Sar always tried to convince me to quit the salvaging business before radiation made me sterile like him.” Kivita finished her last drink of tea.

  “I do not think Sar is actually sterile,” Cheseia whispered.

  Kivita jerked back and stared. “What?”

  “I am not truly certain, but I think he unfortunately misled you. He always ate little green pills before we excitedly shared one another. Sar has also told me to surely seek someone else.”

  “Yeah. That’s Sar, all right.” Kivita bit her lip. Focusing on Sar right now would only spiral her into depression. “Guess I’d better go see this Navon guy.”

  Cheseia gathered their cups and took them back to the server, while Kivita entered a nearby lift. It led to Level Six. Luccan’s Wish had ten decks. Where’d these people find such a large ship?