The static in his head ceased. Abruptly.
Only then did he realize that whenever he was around one or more of the telepaths his head buzzed.
But that didn’t happen with Martha. Sissy’s acolyte tried hard to stay out of his head. These mind readers were constantly rummaging around in his thoughts.
They must do that for the Dragons, whenever they encountered an alien species, ferret out weaknesses, secrets for leverage, as well as strengths.
He grabbed Ianus’ wrist and yanked, pulling the boy’s attention back to him. “Are you relaying my thoughts to Mag?”
He spoke too loudly. He wanted to wring all of their necks.
“I thought I could trust you. I offered you freedom, health care, a refuge. A trip back to Terra. And you betray me by telling the Dragons everything.” That cold spikey lump in his throat crashed into his gut.
“I have told Mag almost nothing,” Ianus whispered. He shrank away from Jake, who still held his heavily bandaged wrist.
Jake finally noticed the new swath of white covering both wrists, elbows, and the back of the hands. All of the places where he’d had needles giving him various and sundry fluids.
“What happened?” Gently Jake put down the captive wrist.
“Compulsion,” Janae said. She placed a supportive hand upon Ianus’ shoulder on the other side of the bed.
Jake raised an eyebrow at her in question.
“Our telepathic bond with our masters is strong. It works both directions. When a Dragon is angry or threatened, they can force us to do their bidding,” Janae continued. Then she raised her gaze to meet Jake’s. “I promise you we have not betrayed you. If Mag compelled Ianus to come to him, it was because none of us have told the Dragons what they want to know. We have not told them how to make you bow to their demands.”
“Do most species bow to the Dragons without a fight?”
“Yes. Intimidating other species into signing mortgages is what they live for. Foreclosing on the mortgages for the flimsiest of causes thrills them to near ecstasy,” Ianus added.
“So the white lizard planting mortgage files into our data base is standard procedure?”
One and all the Telepaths gasped and mouthed the word “No.”
Ianus recovered first. “They have never had to do that before. But it does not surprise me.”
“So I have no reason to trust them. Why the delay for death rituals when they have not displayed a respect for the dead?”
“I do not know. None of us have witnessed a Dragon death or funeral. They do not talk about it, and if they think about it, they block us from reading their minds,” Janae said.
“Mag has now closed himself off from me,” Ianus confessed. “He considers me dead. I can still feel him, but I cannot read him without a great deal of effort. He knows I will soon be dead for real, either at his hand, or from the failure of my own body.”
Ianus didn’t need the graphs and bleeps and drip, drip, drip of fluids into his body to know he was dying. He could only be grateful that he would die with people who cared about him surrounding his bed and trying to make him as comfortable as possible.
Too many times in his life he’d stumbled upon one of his people lying dead in the passageways of Diamond. They’d simply fallen in the middle of some task for their Masters. All of the humans aboard had to make sure they said their prayers, settled the body into a semblance of repose, and consigned it to the depths of space before the Dragons discovered one of them missing. If a Dragon found the body first, then it became a meal, a tasty tidbit to offer a mate after a satisfying battle.
Jake’s offer of freedom saved him from that ghastly fate.
But he did wish to see Terra, just once before he died.
“Wait a moment,” Jake said. “Aren’t you the Keeper of all the knowledge and lore of your kind?”
“Yes. I have told Patricius much, but there is more that does not surface in my memory until I need it. A lot will be lost when I die.”
“Temporarily, only,” Janae said soothingly. “The physicians have taken your seed to implant into a willing female. Her child will carry your genes and the history embedded there.”
“We hope,” Timæus said, looking at the wall behind him rather than engage Ianus’ gaze.
“Search those memories, Ianus,” Jake said. “Search long and deep. Surely one of your ancestors must have witnessed a Dragon death and funeral.”
Ianus looked backward, into that special place where he remembered happy times, the birth of Janae’s children, his promotion to the bridge, the first time he spotted Scylla in the nest and knew she was his potential mate, even though much too young. So few moments in his life that were joyful, or even worthy of joy.
He had to pause for a deep breath to go back farther.
A sensation of overwhelming love as his maeter held him for the first time. Her emotions, her sense of weight against her forearms, her need to put the newborn to breast to relieve the aching itch of lactation.
He felt himself smile as he sorted through Maeter’s good memories and farther back to his grandmaeter.
“The death of a Dragon,” Jake whispered to him.
Ianus hit a blank wall. He did not want to see it. He wanted the good memories, the bits of music remembered by one of the nest. The joy of children.
“The death of a Dragon,” someone else whispered.
His head shook back and forth. He heard the heart monitor beep louder, more rapidly. And still he slid forward to his own few moments of joy. The day that Martha first came to him and he shared a mingling of thoughts as intimate as sex. Martha, the new telepath who must become the mother of the next keeper.
“The death of a Dragon.”
His great-great grandpater’s face came into view: a sad man with stooped shoulders and shuffling gait. Tears leaked from his eyes.
But not for the death of Mog, Mag’s predecessor. No, for the death of eight of the twenty-four slaves, including his own mate and eldest son. The higher the status of the Banker Dragon, the more slaves must die to accompany him into an afterlife. The entire gory entourage returned to D’Or, a desolate planet devoid of life and moisture. The planet had died many millennia ago as their sun dimmed. Fit only as a cemetery now. The slaves piled rocks atop the deceased, hauling hundreds of them many miles through the endless desert to cover the remains. Only when the work was done were they allowed a sip of water and a bit of rest within the confines of the ship.
Ianus trembled in fear. He rolled over and curled in on himself, unable to stop the flood of images and painful experiences of his ancestors.
The other Dragon space ships had joined the bereaved in a howling hymn of . . . of triumph. A banker had died. Another lesser Dragon could rise and grow to take his place.
The next day the Dragons had settled into a new order and forgotten their fallen member. Not so, their nests of slaves.
It took nearly three generations to recover the numbers lost to a single Dragon funeral.
“My god!” Jake said on a wild exhale. “One third of the slaves had to die with the Dragon!”
“Less for a Banker of lower status,” Janae said, tears streaming down her face. Two of the bodies had been children.
“What . . .” Jake swallowed, turned away, and finally after many deep breaths returned his attention to Ianus. “What about for the death of a minion. Three of the smaller lizards died today.”
“Two more were injured,” Janae added.
“We do not know,” Timæus said. “The little ones are closed off from us in their own separate portion of the ship. We only see them when we visit the places where the Dragons hold mortgages. They act as accountants and auditors, computer programmers, lawyers, and spies. Even then, we rarely see them. They work behind the scenes. Unless they must use their venom to remove a troublemaker.”
“I saw twenty of them sneaking out of the lair. How much do the Dragons value them?” Jake asked.
“Enough to take three time
s their number of rebels infecting the place they covet. Nine humans on this station must die within one day. Four more for the injured ones,” Ianus murmured, too tired to raise his voice, or broadcast his message telepathically. “I do not want to be interred on D’Or. I want my body buried on Terra.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Have any of you visited the Maril headquarters?” Sissy asked her girls as they disembarked the tram at the head of the alien cluster of wings.
All six girls shook their heads. “They arrived after we left for Harmony,” Mary said.
“I . . . I have trouble reading them,” Martha admitted. “It’s actually easier to read a Dragon mind than a Maril because I’m learning control of my talent from Ianus. He knows the Dragons and works with them every day. He has never encountered the Maril in person before.”
Sissy hugged the girl. Martha had fallen into the role of quiet watcher. Now she had been thrust back into the thick of things while still adjusting to the limits and strengths of her talent.
“So what do we know about the Maril?” Sissy mused, not really expecting answers.
“They fly, so they like the light gravity sections,” Bella said. She held her arms out as if she could fly too.
Well, she could here in nulgrav.
“They’d like open spaces so they can fly,” Suzie chimed in.
“They wear skirts with loose shirts that fasten about the neck, but no sleeves. And cloaks for warmth,” Sarah added, not willing to be left out.
“Those cloaks would add to their lift when flying out of doors, I don’t know about in an enclosed space, like the hub,” Sharan said.
“So we can expect few if any room dividers and cooler temperatures, and the air recyclers set to max so they generate a breeze,” Sissy summed up.
All six girls nodded.
“They probably would use LG5 primarily for storage as it’s on the heavy end of what they like, and the first cargo bay between LG and MG for their vessels,” Mary added.
“So if they have a dead body they want to hide, where would a bird hide it?” Sissy wondered out loud.
“You’re the one who had a red bird as a pet,” Mary reminded her. “You seemed to know what each of your pets needed and wanted. Where would Red Bird hide something precious?”
Sissy had to force herself to remember the beauty of the wounded bird that trusted her. She had to cage him for his own safety. Being in the cage and unable to escape had cost him his life in the fire that had destroyed a big portion of the Crystal Temple. The same fire that had killed Jilly, her seventh acolyte.
One deep breath, then another. She looked inward toward the few days of joy at the Temple when she and her girls learned the life of a priestess together. She remembered the love they shared, all torn from families to serve together. They became a new family that from time to time included stray and wounded animals who sought solace from Laudae Sissy, Lady Harmony, HPs of all Harmony.
Red Bird had been among the first, along with Dog and Godfrey the exotic lizard.
Birds and Lizards.
She faced other birds and Lizards.
Something precious to hide. For Red Bird it had been shiny things dangling in the sunlight.
Where would other birds hide a dead body? Not in the nest. It had to be somewhere very cold. Somewhere . . .
“Cargo hold between mid grav and heavy, inside a shuttle preparing to depart to their home world with diplomatic dispatches. A secret ship, they think,” she said hesitantly.
“Is that prophesy or intuition?” Mary breathed.
“A bit of both,” Sissy said, rousing from her nearly trance-deep musing. “Pammy may know about the ship, she has different sensors than Jake and Mara.”
“Or it came in under the shadow of a bigger ship and slipped into that bay without anyone else knowing. Jake does that all the time,” Sharan said dismissively.
“We need to hurry,” Sissy ordered, heading for the lift through the empty wing in this cluster.
“But don’t we need to be in the other wing?” Sharan protested.
“The lifts are too open. The only way to sneak in is through the maintenance tubes,” Martha said for Sissy. “I have the codes to disable the alarms and turn off the electricity.” She floated ahead to take her position behind Sissy’s left shoulder. This seemed her natural place now, a comfortable place from which Sissy could reach out for information only Martha could give her. And a place where she remained under Sissy’s protection from covetous Dragons, or fanatical humans who distrusted and thus hated telepaths.
Slowly, the lift platforms slid downward on their continuous rotational loop. At the lowest level of light gravity, in an empty cargo bay, they all disembarked before the mechanism could take them upward again. Mary stepped cautiously away from the shadows beneath the spiral staircase. Martha joined her. Together they looked and sniffed and listened.
“No one is here,” Mary whispered.
They all stepped onto the next set of platforms heading down into mid gravity levels.
“There’s someone . . . I can’t tell how near or far. But a mind is hovering within my range. So far just static,” Martha whispered as they passed MG 1.
“We’re too heavy for a Maril to be idly exploring,” Sharan reminded them.
Down another level.
“The presence is getting stronger,” Martha whispered.
“Let’s get off at MG 3 and watch,” Sissy suggested.
They stepped off the platforms with practiced ease.
“A wide open space with no partitions, no storage, barely a hint of places to attach plumbing,” Mary said. “No place for anyone to hide.”
“We’re too heavy for the Maril to fly. But one of those nasty little lizards might have sucker pads on their fingers to climb and hide among the steel girders.” Martha looked up, then shook her head. “Not even the sound of something breathing.”
“Martha, what about the presence you sensed earlier?” Sissy asked. She reached compulsively to the girl’s shoulder, as if touch could strengthen her talent. Maybe just for her own reassurance, needing to feel another human close by.
She wished she’d waited for Jake to come with them. But Jake was busy and had other crises to weather. This was one problem she thought she could solve for him.
“It’s still around, but I can’t sense any menacing intent.” She looked around warily, never pausing in one direction or the other.
“Then down we go. Be prepared to separate widely and quickly the moment we hit bottom.” That was one piece of advice Jake had insisted upon whenever they entered a new situation. Never give the enemy a closely packed target where they can take out all of you with one grenade.
The lift felt as if it dropped as it descended to the bottom of MG.
Sissy spotted the sleek shuttle painted white with red streaks, like feathers streaming behind the “head” of the shuttle. The Maril ambassador had a red crest. This might be her private vessel, large enough for only three or four birds, but with lots and lots of engine space for jumping into hyperspace.
“It can’t be this easy,” Sissy breathed even as she leaped free of the lift half a foot above bottom. Momentum carried her half way to the shuttle before she skidded to a halt. She and her girls formed a half circle, widely spaced before the vessel.
The hatch irised open.
“She’s here,” Martha said. Her words echoed slightly in the huge open space.
The ambassador herself hopped down as the steps extruded from the portal. She held her hands out to her sides, palms up showing one of the portable translation devices, wing flaps furled and bound to her arms with decorative red scarves. The bone spur on her heel that would secure the flaps was retracted.
“I mean you no harm,” the device interpreted her tongue whistles and beak clacks.
“You have something we need,” Sissy said. She took two steps forward, also holding out her hands to show she carried no weapons.
“I have more nee
d of the negotiation leverage offered by possession of the body.”
“Cooperation now will be more useful in the coming hours. We need to band together to fight the Dragons. As we did in the hub, barely an hour ago.”
“I agree. And so I do not stand in your way.” The majestic ambassador stepped aside, leaving entry into the shuttle open.
“She means it,” Martha said. “There is no one else inside the shuttle.”
“Are you learning to interpret her language?” Sissy asked her acolyte, never taking her eyes off the Maril ambassador.
“Some. It’s more an emotion of cooperation. And she showed me an image of the empty shuttle. Empty except for . . . resting respectfully on the bench in the lounge is a body wrapped in an elegant shroud of green feathers.”
“The colors of the priestly caste for us,” the ambassador said. Then she bowed respectfully to Sissy. “I will fly you and your acolytes to your ship. If we stay very close to the wings, we can avoid detection from station sensors.”
Jake turned off the dozen blinking lights on his desktop that demanded immediate attention. If he misjudged the next confrontation with the dragons, nothing mattered anyway. He called up the security monitors and spaced them around the center of his desk. So far, none of the head cams on his patrol leaders had spotted anything untoward.
From Pammy’s reports and his own observations, he knew how sneaky the little lizards were, and how ruthless the Dragons.
So far, he’d only been reacting to their actions.
Time to go on the offensive.
Now where would Pammy hide control of her own private stash of cannons? He needed to appear innocent of any attack, so station defenses were out of the question.
“General Jake, you need to see this,” Mara said through the comms somewhat breathlessly, as if she’d just run through heavy grav.
Maybe she had. She hadn’t been at her desk when he came in.
He touched the screen at the center. A view of the exterior of the station showed clearly. A tiny blip darted in and out of the maze of wings, carefully avoiding the transparent maintenance tubes. The camera resolution was too dim to show any markings on the sleek little private shuttle.
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