Storm Fleet

by Tim Niederriter

  Tulem hooked his rifle to his belt. He and the officer joined the others in tugging the rescue unit to the top. The stench of weapons-fire and burnt leapers rose with them to where Yajan hovered. Once they cleared the lip of the slanted portion of tunnel Yajain rejoined the group.

  They flew up the sloping tunnel. Yajain holstered her pistol and helped the others move the coffins. They almost reached the bright yellow canopy of the verge, when the growl grew louder in Yajain’s ears. She recognized the tone, if not the source. Some larger predator might be trying to scare off the leapers. In a wild verge things became dangerous fast, no telling the size of this new creature.

  The mover broke into the light, coffins still dangling in the tunnel. Yajain gripped the edge of the mover’s curved hull and kicked with both her legs. Her hunter’s ears were overwhelmed by a roar from close, perhaps a meter behind her. She whirled, releasing the mover. Her hand fell to the weapon at her hip.

  From the foliage below flew two massive claws, covered in bristles of hard chitin that stabbed into her lower leg. The calf muscle tore. She screamed in pain and fired a beam straight into the joint of one claw. The shell burned, but the creature did not let go. Yajain lost thrust to her lifts and sank toward the canopy and the jaws of the fiendish predator she knew waited below.

  A moment of clarity broke into the agony of her leg. Her ears remained active, and the creature no longer roared. It breathed loud enough to hear over the whine of the arc mover above her. She switched the beam pistol to its highest setting and aimed past her bleeding leg.

  Claw bristles dug into her leg. She winced and pulled the trigger. The shot sliced through leaves and air and into the monster’s jaws. The animal received that meal less than enthusiastically. Claws withdrew, though Yajain doubted it could be seriously hurt. In pain and bleary from blood loss, she fell toward the canopy. An arm snaked around her shoulders. Tulem kicked awkwardly with both legs and carried them upward. He lacked training with lifts and could barely keep aloft helping her.

  Yajain wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kicked as much as she could manage to help him fly. Ebonwing hovered overhead, doors open.

  Yajain’s leg ached but not as much as expected after Sonetta sprayed on a layer of morpeal residue. Two deep cuts kept her ginger for several light-dark changes after they left Bahami Forest. The others had no luck unsealing either coffin during that time.

  Forcibly off duty, she stayed in the watchroom of Solnakite most of her waking hours. The ranger flew point on Castenlock and the Ditari banner ship. Ruane’s Blade remained docked within the explorer and Ebonwing flew toward the rear of the group.

  Most of the time off duty crew members visiting the watchroom didn’t talk to Yajain, except for Sonetta. Banedd and Ogidar were both busy with drills and training. Apparently, the burns on Ogidar’s side lasted mere hours after treatment.

  The fleet flew in the direction of the Habandra Explorator, still an unthinkable distance away across dark space where few solna orbited pillars, but in the same direction as the far nearer Ditari settlements. Eight hours from the nearest site the storm had ravaged Yajain read bits of the poetry of humanity from her pad.

  Long out of practice, the bionetic poetry proved difficult to read. Yajain’s eyes drifted to the layman’s transcript at the bottom of each page.

  Ditari. Bandojen. Sorai. Kytep. Nuinn. Each of the five peoples is thought to have separated from the original reef where humankind evolved. The ability to travel between pillars predates history by eons. Thus is the theory of divergent origins.

  Finder Tinar Boskem entered the watchroom. The billow of his black coat filled the doorway.

  Yajain glanced at him from her chair.

  “What do you want, finder?”

  “Doctor, I can’t say I’m surprised by your rudeness.” Boskem smiled. “I was hoping we understood each other better after you fixed my wrist.”

  “I fixed your wrist because you wanted to kill people. That’s all I need to understand about you.”

  Boskem shrugged with the shoulder of one huge arm.

  “You’ve seen killers. That sniper woman on Rakati Pillar was a killer. But she was a rebel. I only want to protect Dilinia, and force is often necessary to do that.”

  Yajain looked down at her leg, almost healed but still tender.

  “I understand, Finder.”

  “Good,” he said, but his broad face did not relax. “Remember, I’m here to help.”

  “Yeah, so what do you want?”

  “I heard the exiled Redoca, Helle DiKandar, asked to meet you.”

  “Did she?”

  “Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t. Until now.” Yajain shook her head, moving her tied hair in its braid against her back. “But why are you talking to me now, Finder?”

  “You have to request that I accompany you aboard the DiKandar Hall Ship.” Boskem’s jaw was set. His eyes looked black and glittered with ill-concealed nervousness. He met her eyes. “Agent Pansar ordered me to make this request, doctor. Both his reasons and mine are good.”

  Yajain swung her legs down. She put her hands on the table.

  “Are you going to tell me what those reasons are?”

  “You already know. To protect.” Boskem shut the door behind him and approached Yajain’s chair. He loomed over her, heavy coat and bulky form blocking her sight completely. He folded his arms. “At any cost.”

  Yajain looked up at him. His face was taut with muscles straining to hide some kind of expression, but his eyes gave him away.

  “I joined this fleet of my own accord,” she said.

  “To hunt the rebel, Mosam Coe. I was there. Don’t forget.” He leaned down toward her, putting his face close to hers so she could feel his breath on her cheek. “Yes or no?”

  She recoiled, scowling.

  “You aren’t exactly convincing me.”

  His hand fell onto her shoulder.

  “What can I say? I’m a technician, not a face.” His grip tightened, pinching painfully on her joint. Boskem’s eyes grew fierce. “I could do anything to you right now. No one would ever know. Or at least, they wouldn’t care.”

  Yajain’s breath quickened. She glared at him.

  “You think so? Unlike you, I’ve been living with these people.”

  Boskem’s other hand pinned both of hers to the tabletop with its bulk. His grip on her shoulder tightened. Yajain tried to pull free, but his meaty palm pressed too hard on her wrists and hands. Boskem’s face reddened.

  “You are a half-breed. Your loyalty could easily be called into question, even if nothing were to happen here. I will accompany you when you go to meet the Redoca.”

  “Fine,” Yajain said through clenched teeth. “Now let go of me.”

  Boskem released her shoulder. The pressure on her hands and wrists eased. He smiled.

  “Good. Easy wasn’t it?”

  Yajain massaged her shoulder.

  “Easy enough,” she said. “But you’d better be less rude to the Redoca.”

  “Count on it.” Boskem turned to the door. “Make sure you mention me when Captain Gattri tells you.”

  “Alright.” Yajain looked down at her hands. A meeting with the Redoca of the DiKandar Clan. Boskem threats and grip set her jaw on edge. She’d remember this. She clasped her hands together, then massaged her wrist. It wasn’t every light-dark change she made a plan to defy an imperial agent.

  Aboard Castenlock, Yajain met with Firio. He told her what she already knew. Along with her, the Redoca wanted to speak with the cabler, Tulem Rosh. Yajain accepted the request. She told Firio about Boskem’s threats.

  “That may explain something odd.” Firio folded his arms and faced Yajain in the ready room. “It seems Finder Boskem has a second cabin aboard the Solnakite.”

  “I know. It used to be mine.”

  Firio raised his eyebrows.

  “I forgot. The machine
he put there has been gobbling up arc charge from every nearby core we pass. When Solnakite was docked my chief engineer noticed fluctuations and tracked them to that room. But Agent Pansar said the contents were approved by the Empress herself, and he couldn’t divulge their true nature.”

  “Suspicious.” Yajain drummed her fingers on the ring of the table.

  Firio dropped his voice to a hoarse stage whisper.

  “Every good mercenary knows not to trust the employer completely. The habit never goes away. I have my eye on Boskem. But he will go with you to see the Redoca.”

  Yajain frowned.

  “What? Why?”

  “He can’t know we suspect him of anything.” Firio unfolded his arms. “Don’t worry, the Redoca's guards will be ready in case of danger. I’ll send them a message ahead of us.”

  “Seems like you’re plan cuts a bit close to giving Boskem what he wants. What if he’s not planning just to observe? Dilinia may be looking for an excuse to expand and conquer the DiKandar Clan. Especially if Governor Sovilan is already at war here.”

  “Let us hope our loyalties aren’t tested.” Firio shook his head, lips pinched together. His silver-streaked beard gleamed with the green light of a the solna passing out the window.

  Yajain approached the window.

  “Does this situation remind you of anything?”

  “Between the disputed Dilinia and Oscarat Alliance settlements and the Ditari hunting in a war stance?” he said. “It’s like the beginning of the last war.”

  “I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “You and I may not be able to stop it.”

  “But we’ll try.” Yajain stared down at pillar just past the blazing green beauty of the solna that flew almost level with the Castenlock. She folded her arms. “Won’t we?”

  Firio put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Never forget that,” he said.

  Small Ditari vessels darted between terraces far below the solna. Yajain watched them move for a long moment, then nodded.

  The elderly Lian custodian led Redoca Helle DiKandar’s guests out of the docking bay with a small smile on his finely lined face. Like all Ditari the Lian commoners aged slowly. This functionary tried nothing to hide his advanced years. He floated on arc fins to help manipulate his lifts.

  Tulem walked beside Yajain, occasionally stealing a furtive glance at her. For a man with the guts to threaten a Ditari hunter with a coil pistol, he seemed so young in his fine white and red dress uniform. A cabler and an innocent, how strange.

  Yajain smiled until she felt the slender form of the sheathed vare blade swing at her hip. Despite having only one of the three blades used in a hunter’s war gauntlet she knew it would show the Ditari she respected her heritage. Anathema among the hunters to go unarmed at any time in public, the blade announced something else, just a hinted suspicion of violence. Yajain wore it because of her other companion.

  Finder Boskem walked with a confident step, a wall of muscle and black clothes. He carried no visible weapons. Yajain assumed him still armed. Agents in the Empress’ service often concealed tools of all kinds, including those of death.

  The DiKandar clan’s great hall floated somewhere between pillars where they docked, itself only half as large as Castenlock, but with swept out wings and surrounded by a cloud of banner ships and smaller vessels.

  Yajain and the others rode a tumbler from Castenlock an hour after Kodun had reported his own meeting with the Redoca. They entered through a golden filigreed port where slivers of shadow fell across docked ships from a second launch area at the top of the room.

  Yajain, Tulem, and Finder Boskem followed the floating custodian into a huge hallway dotted with slender, decorative columns of round white metal. Each so resembled miniature pillars so clearly that Yajain felt like a giant walking on misty air. Her smile gathered an additional broadness from awe when she saw the bulging green shapes of plant life growing between pillars, right in the place where the Toltuashi Verge should be on this map. The room was a model of her home expanse where Ditari clans had hunted for ages until the war.

  A group of four Ditari women approached. Three of them wore hunter armor like Yajain had seen before. The fourth wore a drawn robe of white with a gold collar. Her eyes sparkled and her skin was flawless except for her right arm, withered and small, dotted with discolored spots. She stood slightly shorter than the other women. The peak of the gold circlet on her head gave Yajain no doubt as to her identity.

  Yajain bowed her head.

  “Redoca DiKandar.”

  Tulem and Finder Boskem bowed as well. The three armored women before them spread apart, leaving the Redoca alone for two meters in every direction. DiKandar motioned to one of the hunters who had been attending her.

  “Find Predator Kodun DiCalibri. I may need him.”

  “Yes, my lady.” The hunter bowed and then swept off past Yajain and the others.

  The Redoca turned to Yajain.

  “I see you recognize something about my hall, doctor.”

  “This looks like the Toltuashi-Kadarhan Expanse. I grew up in it.”

  DiKandar nodded. “And the only Ditari I ever set above myself died in it. Do you know whom?”

  “The Ettellian Redoca.”

  DiKandar nodded.

  “It is good you understand, doctor. Not many people could answer that so quickly. Now…” She touched a small pendant at her collar’s throat. “I suppose you should also know why I wished to speak with you. Those of you I summoned.” Her eyes never indicted Boskem, but her tone did enough.

  A small animal, something akin to a black ferret or an ermine slipped down from DiKandar’s sleeve and onto her smooth forearm, which she raised. The sleeve fell back, revealing the silvery forearm plug in the arm. She smiled, showing fierce and gleaming Ditari teeth.

  Holograms arose among the pillars in the room. Phantom ships sailed between the pillars. Ghostly miniature solnas circled most every pillar at multiple locations. “I had this hall built to remember the brave who fell. Clan Sarna and Clan Kandar, but also Clan Calibri, and Clan Haysal. And all the others.” With each name, she pointed at a different ship converging on Toltuashi Verge.

  Beside Yajain, Tulem smiled nervously. He bowed again.

  “My lady,” he said. “I can’t help but feel out of place.”

  “I heard about how you threatened a hunter to save your friends. Such resolve was courage where you stood.”

  Tulem’s eyes widened slightly. “Thank you, my lady.”

  DiKandar turned to Yajain.

  “And you, you continued to negotiate to save lives when confronted with violence. Not enough people, Ditari or nuinn, would do such a thing.”

  Yajain folded her hand together. “I am a doctor and a medic. The idea of taking life scares me more.”

  DiKandar’s fierce smile shrank a little.

  “I think I understand. Yet, you wear a blade.”

  “A weapon can be a tool for peace if one knows how to use it.”

  “Well spoken. And I wish to honor both of you. A feast has been prepared from our recent hunts. No war has ever kept a Ditari redoca from an honorable celebration.” DiKandar turned past Yajain and toward Boskem. “What is your name, Finder?” she asked.

  “Tinar Boskem,” he said. “My lady.”

  DiKandar nodded.

  “I trust you are here as a matter of honor?”

  “I am. But I have a request.”

  “Act your part at the feast,” DiKandar said, smile gone. “Then we will see to your request.”

  Yajain sat between two Ditari hunters near the head of the table where Helle DiKandar sat haloed by black hair and crowned with gold.

  Her small pet curled on an elevated cushion nearby.

  Steaming plates of food, meat, fruit, and vegetables arrived. They lacked only in bread to feed the three dozen people dining in the room. At first that struck Yajain as odd. Such
a sight would be strange in Dilinia, but Ditari hunters placed so much value on the kill and the natural, they ate differently.

  The smell of cooked meat mingled with perfumes wafting from the ladies at the table. Before the meal, Yajain had been given a pale blue Ditari robe to wear. In the practical tradition of hunters, it left room for a heat suit beneath, which she kept from her uniform.

  The meal began to the main course. Tulem sat beside Boskem across from Yajain, looking nervous while strings of conversation began to form around them. One of the hunters beside Yajain dished up some meat and passed the plate to her.

  “This is not byga but something more fitting for a lady of our blood.”

  Yajain did not recognize the meat. It smelled of salt and spice curing. She took some of it with a bow to him. Then she passed the plate on to the hunter on her right. Tulem joined in a conversation with the hunter lady on his left, grinning.

  “I haven’t had the chance to taste this before,” he said. “It’s very fine. I should have expected as much.”

  He looked so small next to Boskem’s glowering silent bulk. Yajain smiled.

  One of the hunters beside her turned to Yajain.

  “I take it you have seen much pain, doctor. How is it you can smile so freely?”

  Yajain returned his gaze, surprised.

  “I’m not a medical doctor by trade,” she said. “More by circumstance.”

  Boskem raised his cup of white wine.

  “The doctor here is primarily a biologist. Schooled in bionetics, is that correct?”

  “It is true, Finder,” Yajain said. “I have medical training, and I volunteered for this relief mission.”

  The hunter’s lips curved slightly.

  “You chose to come to this place? Would that we all could say the same.”

  “I didn’t have much choice,” Yajain admitted. “I mean, my survey fleet was assigned to rescue missions because of the storms. Before that I worked with Dara Merrant, identifying new life forms.” She omitted her thoughts about Mosam and Lin from the explanation. Hopefully, the Redoca wasn’t like Ija in her acuity for reading human speech.