by PJ McDermott
The admiral snorted, then changed tack. “And you lost this weapon? You had it in your hand, yet you lost it?”
Hickory nodded carefully. She didn’t want to lie to the Admiral, but she didn’t want him to know the truth—that Gareth, her sidekick, had given the Sword of Connat-sèra-Haagar to the Avanauri mystic called the Teacher, who in turn had placed it in the keeping of the wild telepathic creature, the Riv-Amok. “I have an idea where it might be, though. I heard someone say it was taken to the Scarf for safe keeping.”
“Someone?” The Admiral laughed. “And who would that someone be, I wonder? Never mind.” He raised his hand. “I don’t want lies, and in any case, if it’s in the Scarf, it may not be as safe as you think.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how Yonni is going to take this. He desperately wants that sword back.”
Hickory’s eyes flashed. The admiral had made a pact with Avanaux’s ruler, Yonni-sѐr-Abelen, to bring him the sword in exchange for a license to mine crynidium, a vital ingredient in the fuel that enabled FTL travel. The liquid metal had been discovered on only a handful of planets, and the IA was desperate to secure the long-term rights on Prosperine. Hickory suspected that part of the deal also involved getting rid of the Teacher whom Yonni believed to be a threat to his authority.
Hickory had been seconded from the Alien Corps to retrieve the legendary weapon when Sequana had stolen it from the temple. In the end, she had decided that Prosperine and its people were better served if the sword remained hidden.
“I understood the Scarf to be uninhabited,” she said.
The admiral’s eyes fixed on hers, but he said nothing.
Hickory poured water into her glass and sipped at it. “The ship’s vids describe it as a barren place—mostly swamp and jungle. The only things that live there are flies, spiders and a bunch of other squishy creepy-crawlies.” She shivered. “I would have thought it the perfect place to lose anything for a few thousand years.”
The admiral’s chair scraped across the floor, and he walked to the viewscreen where the planet Prosperine shone like a blue and red jewel swathed in white clouds. “Our initial exploration of the Scarf may have been a little less than thorough.” He darted a glance at Hickory. “When our first flyby indicated no sentient life there, I made a decision not to expend resources exploring the area. Later analysis of the data showed that higher life forms do in fact exist—on some of the islands, at least. I decided to run another scan, and we picked up signals indicating the presence of small bipedal populations. We think they may be nocturnal cave-dwellers, which would explain why we didn’t find them on our first scan. So far, we’ve located six groups of between two and three hundred each. We can’t get more detail because the radiation in that area is pretty bad and it interferes with our scanning.” He laughed with a short bark. “Given what you’ve just told me, though, I don’t have any alternative. I’m going to have to send a team down there to look around.”
If there was one thing Hickory didn’t want to do ever again, it was to go into a jungle—any jungle. She recalled her mission two years back on Aquarius Four. For six months, there’d been tropical rain, leeches, and carnivorous plants to deal with. She’d hated it, but she could have coped if she hadn’t gone against all her training and allowed herself to become romantically involved with one of the crew. She received a note from an anonymous well-wisher telling her Jacob had been married for seven years. The ensuing break up was vitriolic, and she’d lost her focus on the operation. To top it off, her main quarry had been assassinated under her nose.
When she returned to Earth, emotionally and physically exhausted, her boss, Prefect Cortherien, had dismissed her from active service and transferred her to a job teaching at the Saint Philip Research Academy—the training ground for the Alien Corps.
The admiral’s eyes locked on hers. “I know you have issues with working in these sort of conditions, and if you don’t want to go, I’ll find someone else.”
A tear came unexpectedly to her eye. He’s trying to manipulate me. She was nothing more than a pawn to this man who called himself her father, a pawn he would have no hesitation in sacrificing to achieve his own ends. She’d been on the planet twice in the last six months masquerading as one of the natives. If she undertook the maquillage treatment one more time, she’d have to return to Earth for re-humanizing. That would be a particularly unpleasant experience—not that he cared. She blinked the moisture away. “That’s what you’d better do, then. I’ve had enough of adventure for a while.”
Hickory sipped at her glass of Barbaresco and flicked the hollo-channel over to classical. She selected the Slovak National Philharmonic Orchestra’s rendition of Rhapsody in Blue. The quirky mix of classical and jazz elements perfectly reflected her conflicting emotions. She’d been back on Earth for two weeks, eating at the best restaurants, attending recitals and stage shows and catching up with Jess, Mack, Gareth, and Jenny. It was great to see how happy they all were, and how very much in love and unafraid to express their affections in public they’d all become. There. The pang of envy, or was it self-pity, seared her heart, and she wondered if she would ever find a soul mate. She shook her head. Such is life. The affair with Jacob had been nothing more than a fling. The nearest she’d come to being in love had been with Kar-sèr-Sephiryth, the alien known as the Teacher, on her last mission to Prosperine. But that was different, wasn’t it? She was attracted by his gentleness, his compassion, his selflessness. She felt safe in his company, and if he had been human, she might have fallen head over heels. She shook her head, tutting at her self-delusion. God, I’m a moron. Every time I see him, I feel a wild impulse to wrap my arms around him. Kar was the most exciting, mysterious person she’d ever come across, and perhaps something more.
The Alien Corps had searched the galaxy for signs of the Messiah ever since the discovery of an ancient manuscript in 2095 prophesied that he would appear on an alien planet at the end of days. Cortherien had reinstated Hickory as a commander in the Corps specifically to discover the truth about the Teacher. The report she’d provided to the Prefect concluded Kar-sèr-Sephiryth represented an early manifestation of a predicted leap in the evolution of the Avanauri species. She still wasn’t sure if this was the case, but Kar was no more attainable to her than if he’d turned out to be the reincarnation of the Christ.
She sighed. How badly did she need to get a life? Mooning over an alien.
The holo-screen beeped to signal an incoming message. Hickory checked the identity of the caller. The Admiral. She pushed her glass to one side, straightened her collar and accepted the call.
“Hickory! How are you? Enjoying your vacation?”
“Sir, you didn’t call to check whether I’m having a relaxing time.”
He shook his head and smiled. “Always the same mistrustful daughter, desperate to get straight to the point. Would it kill you to be pleasant to your father for a change?”
She maintained a blank expression with difficulty. The admiral wasn’t her birth father and, considering his indifference to her over the years, their relationship was anything but familial. She knew it, and he knew it, but he wasn’t beyond playing the family ties card to get what he wanted. She hated that. “What do you want?” she said.
“Alright, have it your way.” He gave a curt nod. “There’s been a development on Prosperine. After you decided not to help, I sent a team into the Scarf to look around. They’ve disappeared.”
Hickory’s eyebrows rose. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. We lost track shortly after the pilot reported seeing a crashed jet.”
A shadow crossed Hickory’s heart. “What kind of jet?”
“Bikashi.”
Hickory felt the heat rise up her neck. The Teacher’s last words before she left Erlach sprang to mind: Something stirs in the Scarf. I fear the sword is no longer silent.
“There’s Bikashi in the Scarf?” The Bikashi, a warlike species, had once been members of the IA. They’d been thr
own out after several attempts to defraud the other representatives. On her first mission, a squad of Bikashi troops had joined forces with Sequana and his Avanauri rebels, intent on seizing the planet’s stocks of crynidium.
“I can’t say for certain. Brox didn’t report seeing any on his fly past, and unfortunately, he went off-air soon after. Rescue are out there now looking for our people. But we can’t take the risk.” He paused. “Hickory, they could be after the sword.”
Hickory snorted. “Even if they knew about the sword, how would they know to look in the Scarf? Surely it’s a coincidence? You don’t know how long they’ve been there. They might have crashed years ago.”
“Perhaps,” said the admiral. “But I can’t afford to take the chance of someone like Vogel getting their hands on it.”
“Vogel! You don’t think he’s in the Scarf?” The commander of the Bikashi Shock Pack had kidnapped and tortured Gareth on their first trip to Prosperine. The Teacher had done what he was able to heal the boy, but some of the emotional scars remained with him.
“Just putting two and two together. We know he escaped after the battle of Ezekan, but we never heard of him after that. It may not be him.”
“Sounds like a long shot.” But if there stood a remote chance of it being Vogel, the admiral couldn’t afford to ignore it. She swallowed hard. “Admiral, I can’t go back to Prosperine, not to the Scarf. I’m sorry, you’ll have to find someone else.”
“Oh I know, Hickory. I didn’t expect you to. I’ve found someone who’s keen to do the job. I just called to let you know that Gareth Blanquette is on his way here.”
Hickory’s head swirled: if there were any chance of him getting a chance to exact revenge on Vogel, Gareth would indeed be more than eager to go.
Hickory and Jess sat at a table outside the Cafe Dolce in Rome. They’d ordered pasta for lunch, but neither felt like eating. “Sometimes that boy is as thick as two bricks, genius or not,” said Jess, her eyes afire. “He didn’t say a word to me.”
“Because he knew you’d try to stop him going—the same as I would, that’s why. It’s too late to be angry, Jess, he’s half way to Prosperine by now.”
“The admiral’s bullying you into this, you know that don’t you? You don’t have to go. Gareth’s a big boy now.” Jess pushed some gnocchi around her plate with her fork. “Do you think it’s Vogel?” She gave Hickory a sidelong glance.
“I’m afraid it is. And if so, losing Gareth isn’t the only problem we’ll have. If the Bikashi gets his hands on the sword, God knows what he’ll be capable of.”
“So, you’re going?” Jess nudged her plate into the middle of the table.
Hickory raised an eyebrow and smiled wryly. “Much as I wish I didn’t have to, I don’t feel there’s any option. I’ve asked the admiral to keep Gareth in cold storage until I arrive.”
Jess folded her arms. “Until we arrive.”
Vogel
Vogel’s long snout twitched as he slammed the micro-solder down on the comms panel. Broad and tall, even for a Bikashi, his head resembled an enormous soft-shelled turtle, and his body was covered in micro-scales. He hissed through the thin, ragged slit of his mouth. Shrelek! Another wasted morning. The ship was obviously beyond repair. The FTL drive appeared unharmed, but unless he could get her off the ground, he’d never know for sure.
He glanced out the doorway and across the swampland to where his soldiers sat playing cards. They were no help. They’d given up any hope of getting off this planet a long time ago. He glared at them. If they ever managed to return to Auriga, he’d have the lot of them flogged and then the skin flayed from their flesh an inch at a time. He should kill them now, but useless and undisciplined as they were, they were still Bikashi, his own people.
In truth, it had been harder on them than he—at least his personal radiation shield had survived the crash. The Prosperine sun hadn’t been merciful to his troops. Typically hard and toughened like cracked basalt, their exposed flesh was now covered in red welts. Without a doubt, they’d be dead in a few months, even if they escaped from this planet.
Vogel jumped from the ship onto the squelchy bed of reeds and vines that supported the space-fighter. They’d been first-rate soldiers once, the finest in the Bikashi army, but that was before they were routed at Ezekan, forced to flee from the marauding Charakai. As a reflex, his eyes darted skyward. He shivered as he recalled being pursued by the reptile-birds, snapping at his neck and screeching in frenzy. The raised voices of his soldiers chased away his rambling thoughts.
Revlek, his lieutenant, was running towards him leaping across half submerged creepers while pointing to the sky. He called out to his commander, jabbering in his excitement.
Vogel turned and shaded his eyes. He frowned. Something, a seabird perhaps, flew high overhead. He watched as it banked towards them, growing bigger by the second. No, not a bird; it was a reptile of sorts, by the look of its membrane wings and elongated head, but much bigger than the vicious Charakai that plagued his sleep. He drew his blaster and checked the gauge, even though he knew the load was almost depleted. At most, he had two decent shots left. He started towards the thick forest two hundred yards away, shouting, “Revlek, get those craiks into cover. Now!”
Revlek drew his sword and urged the four Bikashi across the swamp. Seized by panic, they bumped into each other, stumbling as they ran. One of the warriors glanced over his shoulder and tripped on a vine. He fell through a break in the vegetation and disappeared into the murky water below.
Vogel sprinted to the scene, but there was no sign of the missing soldier. He kicked at the water, cursed, then resumed his flight, bounding over the swampland and crashing through the scrub to join his remaining troops.
The Riv-Amok circled the spaceship several times before it landed on a firm patch of reedy tussocks. It stretched its neck, shook its massive leathery wings, then folded them close to its body.
Crouched behind cover at the edge of the forest, a soldier nodded at the weapon clutched in the beast’s claw and whispered to his comrade, “What magic is this, that a creature wields a sword?”
The Riv-Amok’s head snapped towards the Bikashi, its long beak hovering barely inches above the swamp. It dropped the sword on the matted vines and crept stealthily towards the trees, stopping every few yards to listen.
Vogel motioned with his gun for his troops to move further into the forest. A branch snapped beneath Revlek’s foot, sounding like a crack of thunder in the still air.
The creature opened its beak and emitted a shrill shriek.
The sound terrified the Bikashi troops, and they bolted, careless of the noise they made. Vogel’s eyes grew wide, but he remained crouched, still and silent, his attention fixed on the approaching monster.
The Riv-Amok crashed through the trees, its great wings snapping them like matchsticks and its clawed feet tearing bushes up by the roots. The Bikashi broke in four different directions, but the beast was too quick for them. One by one, it plucked the weakened soldiers from their surroundings, tossed them into the air and swallowed them whole. The beast’s throat bulged grotesquely whenever a Bikashi soldier slid down its gullet.
Vogel watched horrified from his hiding place in the hollow of a large tree. He saw Revlek, the last of his crew, dash out of the forest and make a dash for the ship. Leaping over gaps in the ground cover and skirting larger pools of open water, he had almost made it when the monster pounced. Revlek screamed as a great claw pinned him to the ground and the beast devoured strips of flesh from his still conscious body. With a cry of triumphant joy, the Riv-Amok silenced him, tearing his head from his body.
When it finished eating, the creature settled on its belly and licked the blood from its claws. Then it rose and sniffed the air. It reentered the forest, less than twenty yards from where Vogel crouched.
Cold sweat broke out on the back of the Bikashi commander’s neck. He tore his eyes away from the monstrosity and pushed himself as far back into the tree hol
low as he could go.
Should he try to run? If he could get to the ship, he might survive—though he didn’t doubt the monster had the strength to rip the hull apart.
He felt something wet ooze onto his head and crawl down his neck onto his shoulder. He ignored the slimy insect, keeping his eyes fixed on the creature. Its back was turned, about fifty yards away.
He crept out of the tree hollow and shook the bug from his hand, then crawled on his belly to the forest’s edge. He noticed the sword lying where the creature had left it, about half-way to the ship. One last glance over his shoulder to make sure the monster hadn’t spotted him and Vogel ran. He scooped up the weapon on his way past, then scrambled through the ship’s doorway.
The monster’s screams followed him inside. Vogel sucked in his breath as the Riv-Amok emerged from the trees and launched itself at the spacecraft, half flying, half running, its claws spraying water. The Bikashi commander scrambled away from the doorway just as the monster’s head probed the opening, dripping blood and gore. It opened its jaws and filled the cabin with its shriek and the stench of death.
A faint echo of the beast’s cry sounded from outside the ship. It withdrew its head and turned to the west. The sound came again, and the monster shrieked an answer. Taking a last malevolent look towards the ship, the Riv-Amok skimmed across the clearing, unfolded its wings and launched itself into the air.
Vogel staggered outside, placed his hands on his knees and vomited. He brushed his mouth roughly on the back of his sleeve and glanced around. Revlek’s helmet, with his head inside, lay just this side of the trees. Vogel searched, but little other than the dark blood and a few severed limbs indicated the Bikashi had ever been there.