Prosperine: The Adventures of the Space Heroine Hickory Lace: Books 1, 2 & 3 (The Prosperine Trilogy)

by PJ McDermott

  Beads of perspiration formed on the High Reeve’s forehead. He hated having to deal with the aliens, but he had no choice. They were his allies, like it or not, and this was their problem as much as his. “The Pax have enlisted the help of Bikashi soldiers.”

  Lace’s smile faded quickly. He placed his hands on his desk and leaned forward, speaking urgently “More Bikashi! You’re sure? How many are there?”

  “At least fifty, perhaps more.” He didn’t like to admit to Vogel’s escape—the incompetence of the Chief reflected poorly on all Avanauri—but he had no choice. “The one called Vogel, who was in our custody, was freed by a band of Pharlaxians accompanied by a force of Bikashi soldiers.”

  The admiral’s face was impassive, but the High Reeve noted the change in color.

  “My men were ambushed while transporting the Bikashi to Dominion Island. We had intended handing him over to you.” He paused. “The most worrisome thing is we had no idea these Biletung were here in any numbers. There could be a lot more of them hiding in the mountains with the Pax.”

  Lace didn’t respond for a moment, then he seemed to make up his mind. “Yonni, thank you for your honesty. I need to consider the issues you have raised. I can assure you that whatever we can do, we will do, but I need to discuss this with my superiors. The presence of the nonaligned in large numbers is, well, a complication, and something I agree we will need to deal with together. I’ll contact you in two hours.”

  The screen went blank. The High Reeve took the key from the slot, put it in the drawer, and returned to his office.

  “Hickory, this is as serious as it gets.” Her father’s image almost bristled with the intensity of his feelings. “I wouldn’t ask this of you—especially you—if there was an alternative.” He had outlined his concerns about the Bikashi and his fear that a successful revolution by the Pharlaxians would lead to a complete fracturing of the IA’s objectives on Prosperine. “If it were only one or two rogue Bikashi we had to deal with, then maybe the Agency would chance going in to extract them—lay a false trail to explain their disappearance, but there are too many. Worse, we know this Vogel is well thought of by his superiors, and he is clearly here at their behest. Taking him out of the equation would be messy and construed as an act of war on our part, and we don’t want to risk a full-scale war with the nonaligned—not at this time.”

  “Unless there’s no other option, of course,” said Hickory, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms.

  He sighed. “You’re right—unless there’s no other option. We can’t afford to let the nonaligned beat us to the punch on this. The stakes are too high. As it is, I’m not sure whether you will achieve anything by going in. I just don’t have any better ideas.”

  She couldn’t detect any dissemblance in him, but he had always been a master at keeping things close to his chest. She changed the subject. “Have you been keeping tabs on Jess and Mack?”

  “We were, but we lost them in the hills south of Birregur. They’re too far away to use SIMs, and the agreement we have with the Avanauri government prohibits the importation of alien technology to Prosperine. That includes using orbital surveillance equipment over populated areas. They’re somewhat paranoid about that. We took a risk and put a GPS chip into the heel of Mack’s shoe, but the signal is dead. I hope it hasn’t been discovered.”

  “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  “Find out where the Bikashi are holed up, get a count of how many there are and what their level of involvement is. It might be they’re here as trainers or advisers—not combat troops.” He paused. “Also, I’ve arranged for a gift to be delivered to the consulate addressed to you. It’s a pendant with a transmitting device built in. If anyone asks, it’s a birthday present from your father. The transmitter is voice activated. You get the information to us, we’ll do the rest. And, Hickory, don’t get caught.”

  Hickory wondered what he meant by “the rest” but didn’t ask. Sometimes it’s better not to know.

  She expected him to sign off, but instead he cleared his throat. “When you’ve completed this mission, I’d like you to consider spending a few days with me.”

  She was taken aback but recovered quickly. “A few days? Why? Where? I mean—”

  “We’ll have a debriefing of course, but it would be good to spend some personal time together—we can get to know each other a little better.”

  She was instantly suspicious. “Why the change of heart all of a sudden?”

  “I’ve been thinking things over. Perhaps I’ve been a little harsh, a little unfair. If we can nullify this threat, we could end up working with each other more often. There are some things we need to talk about. Clear the air and so forth…”

  Three days with her father. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

  The transmitter turned out to be an amplifier for her SIM. It had been created as the centerpiece of a necklace because there was no time to have it surgically implanted. It boosted the range of her SIM by a factor of a hundred, but only worked one way—she could not receive.

  Hickory was beginning to regret her choice of transport. She had opted to ride a yarrak named Titus, rather than use a wagon, on the basis that she would cross the wild outback hills and deserts more quickly. After only two days of being jerked and swung around by the ungainly Titus, she was stiff and saddle-sore. Still, she thought, as she brushed the dust from the beast’s back, at least he was warm, and he didn’t seem to mind her company at night. She tethered Titus to a nearby tree with enough leaves for him to munch on and lit a fire. The evening light show was just beginning, and curtains of green and red danced in the north. She settled down to study the map Brandt had given her.

  The sound of a twig snapping from outside the glow of the campfire was like a rifle shot in the still night. Her head jerked upright, and her heartbeat raced as she saw a figure limned against the aurora. She gripped her sword. Bandits were a frequent occurrence this far from Ezekan, she had been told.

  “Fear not,” spoke the apparition. “I am but a traveler seeking a place to rest my head for the night. I would enjoy sharing the warmth of your fire and any morsel of food you can spare.”

  “Come into the light,” said Hickory. She rose to her feet and slid the sword from her belt.

  “You won’t need that, Hickory,” said Kar-sѐr-Sephiryth, as his form materialized from the darkness.

  Hickory gasped and took an impulsive step toward the Teacher. “What—what are you doing here?” Her relief was quickly followed by confusion at his unexpected presence.

  “It will take a while to relate. If you put away your sword, I will tell you.” He smiled at her.

  A flush spread across Hickory’s cheeks. “Of course.” She laughed, embarrassed because her sword still pointed at the Teacher. She led the way to the fire and nodded to a place beside her. “Please, uh, make yourself comfortable.” She busied herself to cover her confusion, pouring hot java, and offering dried fruit from her store of provisions. We have time, Teacher. The night is long.”

  “Indeed it is, and it will become darker before the dawn breaks.” He sat and gazed at the fire, frowning. “I was in Ezekan, discussing the rumors of unrest from beyond the Ice Mountains in the North with some of my brothers. It seems there are distressing signs that the old ways are being revived, and a new warrior-leader has emerged amongst the Erlach.” He paused, shaking his head slightly.

  Hickory looked at him keenly. That’s the first time I’ve seen him troubled.

  The Teacher gathered his cloak about him and continued. “I expected the Pharlaxians to come for me, but when the time arrived some of my followers became angry. I didn’t want them to be harmed, so I allowed my captors to take me. They bundled me out of the city in the back of a cart with my hands tied and a cloth in my mouth.”

  The love this naur has for his people, to risk his life for them. “Why are the Pharlaxians so keen to take you prisoner?”

  “They have some plan for me that r
equires they keep me alive. Otherwise, I would not be speaking with you now.” He laughed.

  The sound was like a bubbling, sparkling brook in Hickory’s ears. She felt a flutter in her stomach. Get a hold of yourself, Hickory. You’re as bad as Gareth. The memory of her lost friend jolted her back to reality.

  The Teacher continued with his story. “We rode for five days and nights, sleeping in the saddle until we reached Tontine. Outside the village we were met by soldiers, covered from head to toe in dark cloth—not even their eyes were visible.” He nodded his head, looking grimly at Hickory. “The ones who took me were afraid of these newcomers, and would not look at them nor ride beside them, but followed behind for three further days until we arrived at a concealed camp in the mountains.” He took a long draught from the mug and selected a dried fruit that he munched on while he spoke.

  “The Pharlaxian base camp.”

  “Yes. The leader of this new group rode beside me, and we talked about many things along the way. He could not hide his ambitions from me, though he tried. He had a harsh tongue and allowed me to glimpse his face—I think to frighten me—but I have seen its like before and do not scare easily.”

  The Teacher struck Hickory as someone who wouldn’t be afraid of much at all. Tentatively, she reached for his thoughts but pulled away before making contact. She had an overwhelming feeling that it would be vulgar to intrude.

  He smiled. “There are many things I fear in this world, but monsters are not one of them. You refer to these as Bikashi. This one’s name is Vogel.”

  Hickory studied the mysterious naur. Other than a few specks of dust on his clothes, he might have just emerged from the temple in Ezekan. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him—and, she realized with a start, not all of them strictly related to her job. “How did you manage to escape?” she said.

  “The camp is a stronghold for Sequana’s rebel forces. His intention is to publicly humiliate and execute me to mark the start of their revolution. I have no wish to be the trigger for a bloody war, although war seems inevitable.” He reached for Hickory’s hand and looked earnestly into her eyes. “It is the human condition, and it is so on Prosperine also. But one day, there will be peace in every heart. This I believe.”

  Hickory’s own heart ached. She felt she would weep from the tenderness she sensed, and she relinquished his hand reluctantly.

  “One of the guards is a cousin to Jacob, my first disciple. He was caught up in the Pharlaxian cause when he was young but has become disillusioned of late. I convinced him to leave my cell door unlocked.”

  Hickory was surprised. She suspected there might be more to the story, but didn’t press. Instead, she asked what was uppermost in her mind. “You didn’t by any chance come across my friend, Jess? She was headed in the direction you’ve come from. I’ve lost touch and I’m trying to find her.”

  The Teacher put down his empty mug. “I saw Jess and one other at the Pharlaxian stronghold. Their transport and belongings have been confiscated, but they are in no immediate danger.” He smiled. “They have been picking wildflowers and herbs, I believe.”

  Warmth radiated through Hickory’s body. Jess and Mack were alive and apparently unharmed. Maybe they would be able to find a way out of this mess. “Will you show me how to find her tomorrow?” she said.

  “Jess has a good heart, and I would help if I could,” replied the preacher. He pulled his cloak around him and lay down, facing the fire. “But I am weary and must rest now.”

  “One last question, Teacher, please? She leaned forward, touching his sleeve.”

  “Only one, Hickory?” He smiled at her and lifted himself onto an elbow.

  “One for now, then.” She grinned and waited until he nodded, then said, “When we first met how—how did you know my name?” Her heart beat wildly.

  His smile faded. “This is what you would ask, of all possible questions?”

  “For now,” she repeated.

  He sighed, “Very well. Kyntai told me.”

  “Kyntai told you?” Hickory’s face went slack and she paled slightly. “When… why?” she stuttered.

  “The boy is one of my most attentive students. I saw him with Gareth that day on the hill. Afterward, he came to me seeking solace. It was a natural thing for him to talk about you and Jess, and later he pointed you out to me.”

  Hickory let her head drop to her chest. She didn’t know whether she should feel relieved or disappointed.

  “You should not blame the boy,” said the Teacher, looking into her face.”

  “No, no. I don’t blame Kyntai for anything.” She raised her head, smiling. That’s one less mystery I need to worry about. Thank you.” She stood. “Rest well, Teacher.”

  Hickory would have talked more, but Kar-sѐr-Sephiryth fell immediately into a deep sleep. She pulled her blanket around her and tried to settle, without much success. The naur beside her, by his own admission, had allowed himself to be arrested and had then fortuitously escaped from a locked prison. He had “convinced” the guard to let him go? Then he had walked for days through desert and rough country, yet looked as fresh as if he had been out for a stroll in the garden. He didn’t seem to bear any grudge towards his captors or have any concern that he might be retaken by them. What sort of being was he? A miracle-worker by some accounts, a charlatan by others. It was early in the morning before she eventually stopped tossing and turning and drifted off into a fitful slumber.

  Charakai

  Hickory woke late to find Kar-sѐr-Sephiryth gone. There was no sign he had ever been there. She was almost prepared to believe she had dreamt it all. Almost. She was disappointed because she had taken the Teacher at his word. He had said he would help and she had trusted him. She felt let down and irritated at herself for being so gullible.

  Dog-tired from her sleepless night, it wasn’t until she’d eaten a breakfast of corn cakes and coffee that she noticed the lettering in the sand. It was a squiggle with the word Ctarak above it and an arrow pointing northwest.

  She climbed aboard Titus and resumed her battle with saddle-soreness, heartened by at least knowing that Jess was safe, if she could believe the Teacher.

  Late afternoon, and the sun was still blazing in the sky. Hickory sought shelter beneath the spreading branches of a lone tree, fed and watered Titus, then ate some of her meager rations. She gazed out over the horizon fluctuating in the heat. After the lush vegetation on Dominion Island and the teeming life in Ezekan City, it was quite a contrast to encounter the hot, searing conditions of the savanna. It’s a wonder anything grows here, never mind intelligent life forms.

  A dark cloud appeared over a distant rise. At first, she thought it a mirage, the effect of the shimmering heat, but as she watched, the shadow grew larger and spread. Whatever it is, it seems to be moving quickly—and in this direction. She took the spyglass from her saddle pack and focused on the approaching darkness. Birds, or bats, maybe. They sure are moving fast. I wonder whether they’re flying to somewhere or fleeing from something.

  A high-pitched screech preceded the creatures’ arrival. Titus huffed and puffed, tugging at the reins that secured him to the tree. His eyes rolled in his head. “Easy, Titus. What’s the matter, boy? It’s only a bird.” She tried to soothe him by patting his trembling nose, but he reared up, shook his head to break the tether and galloped away.

  “What the—” Hickory pursued him but gave up quickly. She looked back at the black cloud. It had resolved into individual dots. The dots became larger, and now she could see that they were neither bats nor birds. The dots had morphed into flying reptiles with flapping leathery wings. They circled overhead, and she could clearly make out the long beaks, saw-edged teeth, and sharp claws. Titus’s frightened bawling reached her, and the flock veered towards the yarrak, screaming as they lunged for the kill.

  Titus wouldn’t stand a chance. He would be ripped to shreds, and then the monsters would come for her. Had she come all this way to be killed by a flying dinos
aur? Three of the creatures turned towards her. She could almost sense their primitive minds being readied to rend and tear. Fresh flesh. Eat. Mine, mine!

  They would devour her while she was still alive, tear chunks of flesh from her body and squabble over her eyes, toes, fingers. Primal fear overrode objective reasoning, and she ran for her life. One of the reptile creatures swooped and clipped her head with its beak. Red hot pain brought her to her knees, but she struggled to her feet, pulling the sword from her belt as she did so. Hickory shrugged off the agony and the warm blood flowing down her neck and slashed at the creature with her sword.

  The fear that triggered her urge to flee evaporated and was instantly replaced by a deep sense of disgust. She was not going to end up as some dinosaur’s breakfast. A moment’s exhilaration was followed by a terrible sadness that these beautiful, unique creatures must die so that she might live. Anger flared up like a volcano. It rolled over her, consuming all other passions. She was angry at the reptiles, at the Prefect, at the Agency, but most of all angry at herself. I shouldn’t have come here. These things shouldn’t be here. I should have been told. Someone should have warned me. In one corner of her mind, she realized her responses were not rational, that her limbic system was operating erratically, but she welcomed the strength it brought her. Her anger escalated to rage. Intense flashes of light struck behind her eyes and she cried out, almost blinded by the agony. The pain and anger doubled and redoubled, one building on the other until she felt she would explode into a billion sparks that would fill the universe with her hatred and her torment. It hurt. It hurt so much, but she would not stop—could not stop—the surge of power building in her.

  What is happening to me? She slumped to her knees, gripping her head in both hands as the acrid odor of electrical energy crackled in her nostrils. The memory of her mother’s anguish, dormant for so many years, crashed through the barriers the surgeons had erected when she was sixteen and flooded the neural pathways of her brain with massive positive charge.