by GARY DARBY
After sitting down, Tor’al turned to the attentive novice. “We have a mystery here, and I know not what to make of it.
“I have never heard of a Mongan battle cruiser landing on a planet, damaged or not. I have witnessed a number of their smaller craft, what we would call auxiliary vessels, do so, but never one of their capital ships.
“And, for them to gather such a large fleet in one place at one time is unheard of in my lifetime.”
“But,” El’am replied in a rapid tone, “did it not land because it was so severely damaged?”
“Perhaps,” Tor’al replied. “But their other ships broke off the battle, fled the system. If their other cruisers were able to retreat, why did not this one?
“Was it left behind for a purpose? I have seen other ships of their kind, so severely damaged that the Mongans themselves destroyed the ship to prevent capture. Why not this one?”
Tor’al gazed upward at the sky, as if remembering other encounters with the Mongans. “No, there is something at work here, something that has made this planet, or this system, notably important to them.
“Enough, it seems, that they would commit so many of their ships against us, and sufficiently important to risk the capture of one of their battle line ships.”
Tor’al rubbed a hand over the short fur that covered his chin. “The why of this we must understand, of that I am certain.”
He peered at El’am. “Cub, I cannot see what lies ahead of us, but if, for some reason, my trail comes to an end here, you must ensure that Som’al or one of the others knows my thoughts on this. Do you understand?”
“Elder!” El’am exclaimed. “You should not talk that way, you are not going to—”
Tor’al waved a hand in impatience. “Youngster, be still and listen. If what I say is true, and you survive, I have a message that I want you to deliver to Ki’mi Som’al or another suitable leader.”
El’am nodded and replied, “I understand. What is the message?”
“Tell her my thoughts on this broken ship and the large size of their fleet. And also tell her . . .” In quick words, Tor’al recounted his encounter with the human Dason Thorne, finishing with, “These humans acted only in self-defense and did not intentionally mean to inflict harm on our people or knowingly set our enemies free.
“I also believe that they have warriors as capable as our own and once they understand the Mongan danger that they may prove to be a great ally in our fight. Say to Som’al that I, Tor’al, believe that these humans are not our enemies and we should approach them as one would approach a friend.
“And, if it is possible, tell her that I, Tor’al would see that message delivered to the Korha’pec.”
Tor’al jabbed a finger at El’am and said, “Remember well, cub, and ensure that there is a full telling of this.”
With an earnest nod of his head, El’am replied, “I will remember, elder, you have my word. Ki’mi Som’al shall know that you wished this to come before the Council of Elders as soon as possible.”
El’am drew in a breath before saying, “As far as the human Dason Thorne is concerned, are you sure elder? This has never been done before—”
Tor’al’s hand was a savage chop in the air. “I would not have said it if I did not mean it, cub! Do not question things that you do not understand!”
El’am ducked his head low, his voice wavering, “Forgive me elder, I should not—”
“No,” Tor’al growled, his voice close to a snarl. “You should not have.”
He stopped, drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly in a long sigh. The cub was youthful and sometimes the young thought they knew the answers to all the questions that the universe posed.
“El’am,” he ordered, “look at me.”
The novice Sha’anay raised his eyes to Tor’al. “There are times, youngster, when we cannot see with our eyes, but can feel in our hearts that something is right.
“This is one of those times and I call upon you to be First Witness to what I have said and done. Will you accept the charge and swear on your clan’s honor that you will deliver my message faithfully, no matter who challenges my words?”
El’am drew in a deep breath. To be a First Witness for such as Elder Tor’al!
“I am not sure,” he began haltingly, “if I am worthy for such an honor.”
“You are if I say you are, cub,” Tor’al growled. “Now, do you accept my charge?”
El’am drew himself up to his full height and met the elder’s eyes squarely. “I accept the duty of First Witness for Elder Tor’al,” he solemnly intoned. “Furthermore, I will stand in whatever places that I am called to and swear upon my clan’s honor the words that he has spoken to the human Dason Thorne.”
Tor’al leaned forward and jabbed a finger at they young Sha’anay. “Even if it’s to the Korha’pec?” he pointedly demanded.
El’am swallowed and placed both hands over his sword hilts. “Even if it’s to the Korha’pec,” he acknowledged.
“Good,” Tor’al answered in a satisfied tone. “Then let us go and be about our business.”
An hour later, El’am turned to Tor’al. “Look, the ground grows level. We must be nearing the crest.”
“I have eyes,” Tor’al returned in a hoarse tone. “And legs too that tell me that yes, the going is much easier.” He peered ahead and said, “And there is our next trail marker.”
El’am broke into a run. Tor’al snapped out, “Hold, cub!”
However, either El’am didn’t hear or ignored his call and kept running. Reaching the small pyramid of stones that lay close to the nearest hillside, El’am gave it a quick glance and kept sprinting.
He dashed forward and then skidded to a stop, a small wave of dust shooting up from his sudden stop. He pivoted around and waved for Tor’al to hurry, all the while motioning with one arm at something that lay beyond Tor’al’s view.
Tor’al forced himself into a staggering run though his legs felt like they were made of the mush-meal that Sha’anay mothers fed their infants. He stopped to stare at the pile of stones and his eyes widened at what he saw.
Danger! Danger!
He managed one last sprint to land hard hands on the cub’s tunic. With a rough jerk, he sent the youngster sprawling against the hill’s sharp facing. While El’am pulled himself up, Tor’al peered around the crumbling lip of a dirt shoulder at what lay below.
A Mongan cruiser!
He stepped back and glared at the young warrior. “To stand in full view of such is sheer folly,” Tor’al hissed. “Do you think that they cannot see as well as we? Did you not see the warning left by A’kan and Mo’sar?”
The youth opened his mouth, glanced back at the stones, and then said, “Warning? I did not see any warning, elder.”
“At the mound’s base, the rocks set in a triangle with another stone in the middle. Did Na’thic not teach you anything?”
The cub bowed his head. “He taught me—I just did not see. I am sorry, elder, but to see one of their ships so . . .”
Tor’al turned and snarled over his shoulder, “Yes, and it may be the last thing you ever see!”
Studying the ship and the surrounding terrain for some time in the diminishing light, Tor’al turned and said in a low voice to El’am, “Try your communicator, see if you can raise our two scouts, or better yet, the A’Gesi.”
El’am nodded and brought his wrist communicator to his mouth. For several minutes, he tried to raise A’kan or Mo’sar or the Sha’anay ship, but to no avail.
Tor’al ordered him to stop and then said, “There is a tongue of woodland that reaches almost to the ship. If A’kan and Mo’sar still live, I suspect that is where they hide.
“We will wait for darkness and make for the forest. If luck is with us, we will reach the tree line and find them.”
They waited while the darkness of night descended. Bright stars twinkled against the nebula’s green glow and a soft lake breeze blew against their faces as Tor’a
l whispered, “We go now before the moons rise.”
He slipped around the rock facing and in a low crouch hastened down the widening ravine, the cub right behind him.
They reached a slight bend in the arroyo and Tor’al pushed up the embankment, aiming them straight at a series of large, jagged boulders that seemed to jut out from the hillside like the teeth of a mythical stone giant.
As they slipped from boulder to boulder, Tor’al’s eyes never left the looming Mongan ship. He half-expected that at any second, the ship’s powerful lasers would rake the hillside, catching the two of them in a fiery burst of star-hot plasma.
They came to the last of the concealing stones. “There’s nothing for it but to sprint,” Tor’al said between breaths.
He rocked back, grabbed the oversized rock’s edge, and sprang forward, pounding right across the open vale and into the grove’s inviting and concealing darkness.
Pounding to a stop, El’am slid to a halt next to him. The youngster inhaled deep through his nostrils and asked, “Do you think they saw us?”
Tor’al replied in a gruff voice, “If a devil dog pack makes a sudden appearance, then you can assume they did.”
He nodded toward the tree line. “That way,” he ordered. “We will go deeper into the trees. Have your ta-gun at the ready, just in case the hated ones pick up our scent.”
Tor’al moved through the thickening trees in long, quiet strides with El’am matching his pace, with his weapon held waist-high, his finger resting lightly on the trigger.
They hadn’t gone far when a lightening of the forest caused Tor’al to glance over his shoulder. This planet’s lime-colored moon was rising over the nearby hills.
He let out a soft sigh as he would have preferred to make their way through the dark to mask their movements.
A rustling sound above him caused him to jerk his head upward in alarm, only to relax when he caught sight of several of the smaller avian creatures. He had already seen one of their enormous cousins sail through the night air and wished no encounter with one of those winged beasts.
With a wave, he led the cub onward through the glade Soft moon glow lightened the forest’s open patches, which Tor’al avoided.
He had just slipped around the trunk of a large tree, his hand scraping against the rough bark when he heard a sharp whisper, “Elder!”
El’am motioned at a spot just ahead. Peering in the direction where El’am pointed, Tor’al saw the slightest of movements just beyond a dark thicket of tall bushes.
Slipping a sword out of his scabbard, he motioned for El’am to bring his weapon to bear on whatever it was that drew close.
For several tense seconds, with narrowed eyelids, Tor’al stared in the unseen thing’s direction. Then, like a ghost shape materializing out of deep shadows, Mo’sar appeared, moving in a low, wary crouch in their direction.
Tor’al smiled and twice tapped his sword against the tree trunk.
Mo’sar stopped dead in his tracks. Tor’al stepped from behind the tree and raised an arm. Mo’sar held up his own arm and sprinted to join Tor’al and El’am.
“Tor’al,” he said in a breathless voice but somewhat surprised voice. “It is good to see you. A’kan sent me to search for you, but I thought I would find you in the pass. Have you been able to contact Ki’mi Som’al or anyone else?”
“No,” Tor’al replied. “And I take it from your question that neither have you.”
Mo’sar shook his head and grimaced. “We have tried all through the day, but there has been no answer.”
He paused and then said, “We have watched the ship for several hours. We have not seen any Mongans leave or enter, but the devil dogs have come and gone several times. Other than the beasts, nothing moves around the craft. It is just sitting there.”
In an excited voice, El’am asked, “Is there a way in?”
“For the hounds, yes,” Mo’sar replied. “We have been able to see most of the ship except the far side closest to the water. It is much too open to go there.”
“And where is A’kan?” Tor’al asked.
“We found a place to both observe and hide near the ship. He waits there.”
“Good,” Tor’al answered. “Lead us to him and we will discuss what we may or may not do.”
Spinning on his feet, Mo’sar turned and led them on a weaving path toward the lake. The closer they came to the water, the thicker the trees and brush grew, slowing their progress.
Mo’sar then turned them parallel to the lakeshore. They then crossed a sharp slope dotted with small groves of pinelike trees whose needles were sharp enough to pinprick the skin.
They came to the tree line’s boundary, and Mo’sar gestured toward a trio of trees that had taken root among a series of large flat rocks. He slid down, snaked his way across the open area, and disappeared behind the rocks. He turned and motioned for Tor’al and El’am to follow.
Waiting for them in the hidden shelter of the rocks was A’kan. “Tor’al!” he exclaimed and reached out in the traditional Sha’anay handgrip. “I feared that Mo’sar would not be able to find you and the cub.”
“It was they who found me,” Mo’sar acknowledged.
Tor’al returned A’kan’s handshake and said, “Where is the best place to view the ship?”
“This way,” A’kan answered and crouching low, led them behind the rocks until he stopped and whispered, “Here.”
With a slow, careful hand, Tor’al pushed aside an overhang of leafy bushes. The moonlight played across the Mongan ship, causing the usual stark exterior to change into more rounded, softer features.
He had seen Mongan warcraft numerous times before, but always in deep space and through the onboard sensors of his own battle craft. He knew for a certainty that very few of his people had been this close to such a ship.
Moreover, those who had were either about to die or become Mongan prisoners. Most chose death over Mongan slavery.
Unlike the sleekness of line and beautiful symmetry of Sha’anay craft, the Mongan ship appeared as though some child had thrown together a set of building blocks in the rough shape of a spacecraft.
Boxy and rectangular pieces seemed to form a semblance of a superstructure that sat upon a huge flattened ovoid, which in turn lay on the ground.
Like the Mongan vessels that he’d fought in interstellar space, Tor’al found it almost impossible to distinguish if there was a fore or aft to the ship. For all he knew, there wasn’t.
Though ugly in features to his eye, he knew from painful past experiences that it was a formidable vessel. The best answer to its powerful armament was to attack in numbers and not solo unless there was good cause.
For now, the galactic vessel lay without sound or movement, bathed in shadows against the backdrop of the moonlit lake, whose water gave off an almost turquoise glow.
After studying the craft for several minutes, Tor’al drew back and spoke to the huddled three in low tones, “I will speak first and then I would hear your thoughts on the matter.
“We do not have communications with the A’Gesi, or any other warriors that may be in the field. We do not know when, or if, we will be able to speak with them and for us to search them out may take too much time and could well lose us this opportunity.”
He jutted his jaw forward. “We are but four. Still, it is in my mind that if we can find a way in, we must strike, either to capture, or if we have to, destroy the ship. How say you?”
Almost in unison the three listening warriors said, “Take the ship!”
Tor’al drew his lips back in a satisfied smile. Turning to A’kan, “Have you seen a way for us to gain access into the craft?”
“Perhaps,” A’kan returned in a deliberate voice. “There is a small opening near where the ship’s underbelly meets the surface. The dogs use it to come and go. I cannot tell where the opening leads.”
“Most likely into the dog’s den,” Tor’al declared. “Nevertheless, your thought is that it may offer
a way into the ship itself?”
“Yes, exactly,” A’kan responded. “However, there is one other thing. The aperture only opens when a devil dog comes up to it; otherwise it remains closed.”
“A bio-sensor that’s activated by the dog’s presence,” Tor’al stated.
“My thought as well,” A’kan said.
Tor’al ran a hand through the thin hairs that covered his chin. “Still, I would see this access point. It may place us at risk, but sometimes the greater the risk, the greater the reward. Can you find a concealed way down to the ship that will get us close to the opening?”
“Yes,” A’kan replied in an instant.
“Then lead, and we will follow,” Tor’al ordered.
With silent steps, the four slipped from their boulder hideout and with careful steps headed down the slope, using whatever cover they could find to mask their movements.
A’kan brought them to a halt among a growth of purple-laced bushes and pointed up to a meter-wide dark oval in the craft’s underbelly. With slow, cautious steps, the Sha’anay approached the ship.
Tor’al raised a hand against the underside to follow the circle’s outline. Just then, A’kan stiffened and motioned for everyone to be still and stay in place.
Wraithlike, the warrior slipped out of the undergrowth without a sound and disappeared. For anxious minutes, the three Sha’anay stayed quiet and listened.
Gripping his sword hilt, Tor’al waited for the warrior to reappear, his anxiety growing with each second. After several nervous minutes of waiting, Tor’al let out a breath when A’kan stepped from the darkness. The tall warrior motioned for Tor’al and the others to follow.
Crouching low, A’kan led them to a group of beaten-down bushes. He swept aside several branches revealing what lay underneath.
“Devil dog!” Tor’al hissed.
“A sentry,” A’kan whispered. “And not dead, merely stunned.” He smiled wide while saying, “It may prove useful, yes?”
Tor’al returned the smile and squeezed A’kan’s shoulder. “Yes, indeed.”
He turned to the others and gestured toward the wolflike creature. “Lift it up and come, let us see if we can make the thing work for us.”