Colony - Blood Kin (Colony Series Book 3)

by Gene Stiles

  Simoeis nodded, walked down the two steps to the bridge. This part of the vessel was amidships, raised on a superstructure high enough to give the captain or helmsman a solid sense of the area around the ship. Captain Simoeis stood before the wide pedestal on which two silver levers awaited his touch. To the left of the levers, a console with lines of glowing screens gave views around the ship. On the right, a large, spoked wheel was mounted. It would guide the ship once the engines were off and the sails raised. ‘Sails,’ the Captain thought with a grin. ‘Yes, we learn much from the Clan...’

  …“Should we run out of power as many of the weapons have done what then?” one of the mates had asked one night. Simoeis, his officers, other captains and a number of their officers and the small number of Izon that made up a portion each crew gathered on the main deck of the Wind Star. The bulwark lights were on providing extra brightness to the moonlit night. Brew passed around to all as they gathered for normal discussions and jokes. Their wives always snickered, saying it was just another excuse for them to get drunk. Work did get done at these gatherings though. Ideas were tossed around. Newly discovered portions of land were reported on. Dangers and concerns were more that talked out for these could undermine a crew.

  Many a notion was beaten to death before Shuk of the Izon stood to speak. While the mate’s concern was commented upon, the Clan had looked at each other in amazement. They all knew enough Peoplespeak to get the gist of what was going on. They simply could not believe their ears. Surely, their translation was off.

  “May I speak?” Shuk waited for attention before continuing. “We of the Izon do not understand the problem.” A few tried to tell him of their talk, but he shook his massive head, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. “This is not what I meant. Please forgive me. I am saying there is no problem.” Again, Shuk stopped them with a raised hand. “I shall try again. We of the Izon have taken our boats from one part of this world to another. In my own lifetime, the Clan has crossed five oceans as big as the one out there and more rivers than I can count. We did this without the benefit of your wondrous engines.”

  “How?” Captain Lianas asked. There were only soft murmurs from the others. Everyone strained their ears to hear and understand what Shuk was saying.

  “We used sails!” the Clan exclaimed, speaking in near unison.

  For the next year, the Izon taught the ship’s crews and officers how to sail. The Clan built boats strong enough to withstand the ripping current of the Gaia and took the ShipPeople – a term the Izon used to separate the ‘good’ People from all others – out into the ocean one small group at a time. In every kind of weather, the Izon trained them how and when to raise the sails and when to lower them. Shuk and his kin showed their friends how to turn into or away from the wind, how to speed up or slow down and how to rig masts and spars.

  Among the Izon dockworkers were master boat builders and riggers. Normally, they would scratch their designs on cured hides with colored roots. The ShipPeople taught them to use smooth screens that could be changed or erased with the wave of a hand. Once the ShipPeople grasped the concepts, their engineers added many thoughts of their own, designing sails and riggings for their own, more massive vessels. The partnership was amazing and taught the People how intelligent and important the Izon actually were. The Clan became an integral part of the crews and made many new friends…

  “Captain?” Neilos asked, joining the Simoeis on the bridge.

  “Yes, yes,” the captain replied, broken from his reverie, “I am ready.”

  With the greatest care, Captain Simoeis pulled slowly away from his berth. Cautiously, he slipped his vessel through the narrow confines between the other ships and the port side docks. It seemed to take an eternity to clear the harbor. He waited…waited for an attack on the Ocean Star, but with much gratitude, it did not happen.

  Using meticulous precision, the captain spun his ship around just as she entered the river. He felt the ferocious current dragging his craft sternward until he slammed the two silver levers all the way forward. The Ocean Star shuttered but still drifted downriver. Engines shrieking against the raging waters, she ever so slowly first came to a halt then clawed her way upstream, gaining speed as she moved.

  When his love finally gained a constant momentum, Captain Simoeis held her speed steady. “We need to keep this heading for a short time until it is safe to turn around. Take the helm and keep her steady until I return.”

  “Yes, sir!” Neilos took over as Simoeis took the ladder down to main deck.

  Simoeis checked on his crew, thanking each man for their work and for being here this black, cold night. He worked his way aft, watching the city lights vanish behind the stern. When the starlight took hold, he moved to the fore, not stopping until he found himself alone on the bow. Leaning on the taffrail, Simoeis stared at the parting waters below, searching for answers and guidance. No one answered. For longer than he should have, the Captain watched the warm, white light at the end of the bowsprit bobbing with the river. With a heavy sigh, he made the short walk back to the bridge.

  “Ring two bells then get on the coms to warn the crew. It is time to turn.”

  This was one of the most dangerous maneuvers on the river. If the Captain made the turn too quickly, the current would slam powerfully amidships. She might careen over so hard that she could flip on her side. However, the Gaia could be used to the advantage. Using the bowsprit light for navigation, Captain Simoeis took the Ocean Star into a slow arc. The current bit into the prow, brushing her bow to port as if she were a gnat then yanked the ship to port. The Captain allowed the river to take her until it hit the weatherboards then thrust the starboard engine to full power. The stern of the Ocean Star spun as if on a pivot. But before she could cut a complete circle out of the waters, Simoeis, pulled back on the starboard engine to reverse and urged the port engine to full, wrenching the vessel to a sudden stop before both engines made her lunge at full speed into Gaia like a cat on the chase. Had the crew not been warned they would have been tossed about like rag dolls. In all too short of a time, the lights of Atlantis touched the night.

  “Except for the bowsprit, go dark,” Captain Simoeis ordered. Neilos bent to the coms and in mere seconds, the night invaded the ship. There was no need to order the crew to quiet. They had little to say since leaving port. The Ocean Star was chosen for a reason. Her deep green hull made her virtually invisible against the water. When the city came into view, the Captain order the bowsprit off. Cutting the engines, The Captain allowed momentum and the raging current to rush her forward through the city’s glow.

  Staying in the center of the river as much as possible, the vessel slid stealthily past the harbors. Waiting until the lights disappeared, Simoeis ordered the bowsprit light on. Following its glow, he drifted slowly to port. “Have a few men line the bulwark and have them guide me as close to the boulevard as possible,” he said over his shoulder, never shifting his eyes from the bow. Neilos whispered into the com and fifteen men spread out along the side. They relayed information to the First Mate who passed it along.

  With the skill that had earned him his rank, Captain Simoeis brought the Ocean Star to within an arm’s length from the shoreline. He brought the Polaris engines to life, easing them sternward until he stilled her forward motion.

  “Drop stern anchors and lower the boats!” the Captain ordered. He watched the crew move with hurried, but quiet efficiency. Heavy ropes already belayed to the bulwarks were loaded into the yawls – small landing boats – along with pikes with rings attached.

  The yawls closed the short distance in seconds. The pikes were hammered into the shore with large sledgehammers then ropes were clipped on. Flashlights lit the night in the proper code so, when the ship was steady, Captain Simoeis ordered the ramp lowered and the bowsprit light turned off. When finished, he debarked the Ocean Star and stepped foot upon the black boulevard. No one forged out of the darkness or moved along the pavement. Seeing no ships moving in the
river, Captain Simoeis shown his flashlight southward up the road. No ghostly figures appeared out of the night. He sighed deeply.

  ‘Where are the Izon?’ he wondered. ‘Where are they?’

  The Izon were going to be late. How late depended on Haleah and Morpheus. Since the escape, Cronus had sent heavily armed squads of the Black Guard out to comb the woods. Some of the Aam with them acted as forward scouts, the others ranging to the sides and taking up the rear. Their wives and children mingled easily with those of the Izon. It was difficult to say the least to evade the Guard alone. To do so with so many women and children was extreme. Luckily, the Clan knew well the art of stealth, but the children were the problem. They coughed, giggled and chatted constantly as if they were on some great picnic. The babies that still suckled at their mother’s breasts could break out in fits of crying that kept all on the edge of discovery. Quieting them all was a monumental task. Between the Black Guard and the children, they were forced into a more circumlocutory route. It bit heavily into their limited time.

  Now this! They had finally made their goal, but at the very spot where the great boulevard entered the pass sat a five-man squad of Black Guard. The guardsmen sat leisurely around a small pot of liquid fire, warming their hands and laughing at unheard jokes and stories. How to get through them quietly?

  The Izon were stretched out in single file at the base of the mountain, still hidden by thick stands of trees. Morpheus knew it would only take one child’s cough or one babe’s cry for their discovery and time was running out. Haleah knelt at his side, both dressed in hooded black robes. To get on the other side of them meant one of them would have to backtrack up the road, out of sight. The dangerous part would be trying to navigate the shoreline in the dark praying not to slip on a water-soaked rock. Not a good plan.

  Morpheus signaled for them to return to camp. They melted into the darkness like ghosts, unseen and unheard. Once back, they warmed their hands on a well-hidden, tiny fire and scanned the anxious faces that the meager light revealed. In hushed tones, they outlined the problem, hoping for suggestions. The Aam with them tossed ideas that they themselves quickly rejected. They did not have to wait long for the right one.

  “I have an idea.” Ulin leaned his head into the firelight. “What if you could slip behind them from this side?”

  “Impossible,” Haleah replied, shaking her head. “They are too close to the cliff side. It would be suicide.”

  “Not if their attention was elsewhere,” he smiled. He drew a bloody jacket into the light. “This belonged to one of the Black Guard we dispatched. I kept the uniform for just such a contingency. If I wear it and ‘stumbled’ toward them, calling for help, I do believe it will give you time.” Ulin smiled wickedly. “Of course I will be armed.”

  “That just might work,” Morpheus nodded solemnly, “If they don’t shoot you on sight.”

  “Did I not tell what a great actor I am?” Ulin grinned. “They will buy it.”

  In the deep shadows of the last vestiges of brush against the cliff side, Haleah wait, barely breathing. ‘Hurry, Ulin, hurry.’ It seemed an eternity that she crouched here, silent and unmoving. Her legs quivered with energy and were beginning to cramp. Morpheus laid a hand softly on her shoulder. Even without being able to see her, he knew what she was feeling. ‘What an astonishing man,’ she thought, sensing a new quiver throughout her body having nothing to do with her confined position. The words no longer fleeted through her mind when a commotion brought the Guard to their feet, weapons at ready.

  “Help. Help me,” a shaky voice, drifted in the night air. A bent and bloody form appeared out of the darkness, staggering, dragging a useless leg behind. The Black Guard held their ground, gazing with suspicious eyes at the man. They glanced at each other, trying to decide what to do. They saw the ripped and blood-soaked uniform, but were unsure of its wearer. The figure took one more halting step then crumbled to the ground unmoving.

  With one more glimpse at each other, two of them moved to help their fallen comrade. Their attention distracted, Haleah slipped across the boulevard to come up behind them from the waterside. Morpheus glided across from her moving like a deadly wraith. One of the Guard – obviously new to his job – had taken a step forward to better assess the situation ahead. The men behind him never had a chance to make a sound. Their throats were sliced nearly to their spine. Haleah and Morpheus eased them silently to the ground. The man to the fore turned slightly at the movement behind him but blood gurgled over his thin lips. They shaped a surprised O as the eyes dimmed and his lifeless body was laid beside his comrades.

  In the scant seconds it took Morpheus and Haleah to exterminate the trio, the other two still knelt next to the man on the road, checking for injuries. They felt rather than heard movement behind them. They saw to two black forms racing toward them and stood to face them, but hesitated in the dim light, unsure if it was their brothers coming to aid them. The hesitation cost them dearly. In numbed confusion, they wondered why their hands would hot raise their weapons, why dead fingers would not touch triggers. Almost in unison, both men looked down, amazed to see shiny, silver blades protruding from their breasts. Still dumbfounded, they slumped to the ground, still in death.

  Morpheus and Haleah drew up short, nodding in silent approval as Ulin drew his bloody blades from the backs of the men, wiping them clean on the corpses. Touching his uniform, he whispered, “I cannot wait to remove this smelly thing!”

  They turned as one and raced back to the Izon, reaching them in moments. There was no need to speak of what had transpired, the Clan moved out at the sight of them. Haleah and Morpheus took the fore, setting a grueling pace. Ulin stayed at the rear with the other Aam hustling the people along, lending and arm or shoulder to the tired. Guel coaxed the Clan onward with whispered praise or quietly barked commands.

  They were moving as fast as they could, but Morpheus feared they would never reach their rendezvous in time. Then what? They could not reach the other side of the gorge before daylight. To be caught in the open in the bright sunshine would mean the certain death of every one of them. Morpheus knew his death and his beloved would not be quick.

  As if to confirm is worst nightmare, the lights of a ship appeared behind them. Morpheus yelled to his love, “Run, Haleah! Run!”

  Captain Lianas checked to make sure all mooring line were secured and the ramp had been brought in. Never a need – his crew was efficient -, just a habit. He called over his shoulder, “One bell!” Elisson rang the bell, signaling they were leaving port. With practiced ease, the Captain carefully slid the Wind Star away from her berth. As she touched the waters of the Gaia, he thought, with a wry smile, ‘At least I know there is nothing in the fleet that could match her speed.’

  He was never so wrong.

  Chapter X

  At the southern end of the city sat a dilapidated old warehouse, its wooden sides weathered by the winds that constantly screamed downstream. It was the first wooden building constructed in Atlantis but was replaced when the harbor was built. Now it lay in disrepair and forgotten. Almost forgotten.

  Carefully concealed from the outside, lights blazed inside creating a false day. Men scurried about making final adjustments on the monstrous craft that lay dark and cold in its berth. Its hull of ebony-stained wood did not glisten in the warehouse lights, but seemed to absorb radiance, dulling the glow to nothingness. The forbidding vessel appeared to be a good two hundred feet in length, three bands of metal ran from stem to stern, spaced from waterline to the bulwarks high above. There was no bowsprit. Instead the bow rose a good fifteen foot above the main deck, shaped like a giant’s onyx teardrop laid horizontally, sharp end to the fore. The slightly rounded end split near the middle, arching gracefully down to join the main deck to port and starboard. Flowing back from the knife-edge of the bow to about amidships, the ship was wide at the beam and tapered back gently to a stern raised slightly above the waterline, curving upward into another teardrop shaped spire, this o
ne only ten foot high.

  Cronus stared up at the ship with hard, cold eyes. Iapetus stood next to him, arms crossed over his heavily muscled chest like a pillar of stone. The construction foreman nearly danced before them as proud as a newborn’s father.

  “Magnificent, is she not, Lord Father?” he bubbled.

  The icy gaze that Cronus gave him nearly knocked the wind from his sails even though this vessel had none. “Tell me about the ship,” Cronus commanded.

  Uthureous stammered briefly but swiftly regained his composure and smiled up at his greatest creation. “She is black as midnight to better to hide in the dark. Even in bright sunshine, her hull dulls the light with her flat finish. To show you better, may I request you come aboard?”

  “I have no desire to board the ship at this time,” His steely eyes pinned Uthureous to the floor. “Continue your narrative.”

  Uthureous wrung his hands together then wiped their sweat on his legs. “Yes, Lord Father. She can carry a hundred men and has well-appointed quarters for the captain and his officers. There are three main cargo holds, each capable of holding tons of supplies and equipment. A large armory is located to the fore for storage of weapons and armor. A separate hold next to it is for spare Enviro-Suits.”

  “This ship is shaped like no other,” the Foreman continued, holding his shaky hands behind his back. “On either end, the hull sharpens and rises up into the spires you see before you. This allows her to cut through the roughest of seas as would a plasma rifle slice through the thinnest sapling. The borithium bands along the hull deflect most light weapon assaults against her.”

  “How fast is the vessel?” Iapetus queried.

  “Unknown. Thanks to the Lord Father, the two main engines taken from one of the ships power her. They suck the liquid beneath them, pressurize it and blast it out of the stern, just above the waterline. The force generated is as powerful as that engendered to lift your starship into space. Once they are fired up, there is nothing in this world that can touch her. She has no need for sails. The best sailors of the People make up her crew. As we built her, the crew mastered all controls and all aspects of her operation. They are ready.”