The Xandra (Book 1): Daughter of the Dark

by Herbert Grosshans

  Breanna, Monaca, Tamara, and Adam sat in one corner at a crude table. Striker shifted his attention toward them and was a little surprised when Adam said, “Tell more about people in sky, Breanna.”

  Adam made remarkable progress, and his vocabulary seemed to increase from day to day. Breanna saw Striker watching, padded Adam’s hand and said, “Enough for now, maybe later I will tell you more.” She got up, walked past Concitta and Sara, and sat down beside Striker. “What’s the matter, Poul? You seem so quiet.”

  He smiled, pulled the charred piece of meat out of the fire, blew on it. “I don’t think this is going to be very good.” He looked at her. “You’ve been avoiding me lately.”

  “I know I have.” She stared into the dancing flames. “I hate it here, Poul. This place. The way we live. We have no privacy. And it will only get worse.” Turning her head, she stared at him. He could see the moisture in her green eyes.

  “I want to go home,” she whispered.

  He put an arm around her. “So do I, Breanna. So do all of us.”

  From one of the other rooms came laughter. He could hear Gregorchuck’s booming voice. Striker chuckled. “Maybe not all of us.”

  A series of shots outside brought the men running out of the room. Most of them ran out without bothering to put on heavier clothing. Striker grabbed his laser, followed them. “Stay inside!” he told Breanna who came behind him.

  “I’m not a child,” she flashed. “I can take care of myself.” She brandished a small laser pistol.

  Striker shrugged, not in the mood to argue with her. He turned at the sound of another volley of shots.

  Girard, Kramer, and Chu were already running toward one of the towers at the edge of the city, where the shots came from.

  “They must have found them,” said Professor Findlay, who was standing beside Tamara.

  “Has anyone seen Professor Banca?” Concitta asked.

  “Is he not here?” Striker stared at the black woman.

  “He left early this morning to check out something.” Sara stepped into the open, a fur thrown around her shoulders.

  “Damn it!” Striker cursed loudly. “We agreed nobody goes out by himself.”

  He began following the other men. He couldn’t explain the sinking feeling in his stomach. Just because Banca wasn’t here didn’t mean something happened to him, or any of the others.

  They were waiting for him by the tower. One dead cat lay between them, but none of the men seemed happy. They looked at him with grim faces.

  “What happened?” he asked. “Did you get the other one?”

  Remington nodded. “In there,” he said, pointing at the ruins of the once tall tower. “He never had a chance.”

  At first Striker didn’t even recognize the bloody, torn pieces of flesh, until he saw the head. It was miraculously untouched. He groaned and suppressed a curse. “What was he doing out here by himself?” he asked.

  Remington shrugged. “You know the Professor. He was never one to take orders seriously.”

  The lifeless carcass of the beast lay beside the mangled body of Professor Banca. A number of large holes testified to the savage anger Remington must have felt when he found the killer.

  “We’ll bury him this afternoon,” Striker said.

  “What about the dead cats?”

  Striker knew what he meant. “Keep the hides, but leave the meat to rot.”

  “It’ll only attract vermin, or at worst more predators. It is meat, you know.” Mian spoke quietly from behind them.

  “You are right.” Striker turned away, walked outside. The survival of the group was more essential than ever, now. Professor Banca had been an important member of this team. His death was a big blow. A reminder that they were living in a savage world.

  Sara and Concitta broke down and began to weep loudly when the men brought the professor’s torn body back to the house. He had been their mentor. Not just a colleague, but also a close friend. Everyone else was in shock, staring in disbelief at the remains of their former teammate.

  “He was just so excited to be here,” Sara sobbed. “He was probably the only one who didn’t mind this horrible place.”

  “He was a good man,” Professor Findlay said. “I think I would like to say a few words when we bury him.”

  Remington and Woolf went to dig a grave. They used their lasers to cut through the already frozen surface, and then dug a hole with shovels made from the shoulder blades of a yak.

  Findlay kept his eulogy short. They buried the body wrapped in a fur, since they didn’t have any means to build a wooden coffin. Adam watched the ceremony in silence and bewilderment. “Why you put friend in prison?” he whispered to Sara.

  “It is our custom, Adam,” she told him. “What do you mean by in prison?”

  “He never…” he was searching for words, pointed north.” No go…” He shrugged and smiled. “Not know say.”

  Everyone stood in silence, watching Remington and Woolf cover the body with dirt, when from the forest to the south they heard a strange hooting. Adam was the first one to react by running toward one of the old buildings and climbing to the top of the roof. He began to laugh and yelled something in his alien language.

  “What is it, Adam?” Striker called to him.

  “My people come!” Adam shouted and jumped down from his perch.

  Mian scrambled up the same building and looked through his binoculars. Striker, Chu, and Kendrick joined him when Mian motioned for them to come up. Striker looked to the south, grunted and pulled out his own binoculars. The electronic screen inside displayed a surprising sight.

  “Looks like people on giant birds,” Kendrick said.

  “And sleds pulled by huge rats.” Striker put down his binoculars. “Let’s get down. We don’t know if they’re friendly.”

  “I want everybody inside the house,” Striker said to the anxious group. “Only Chu, Mian, Woolf, and Kendrick come with me to meet them. We’ll take Adam with us, since he claims they’re his people.”

  “Hold it, Striker,” Remington protested. “I’m coming with you.”

  “I need you here, to protect the women, Remington. In case things go wrong.” The truth was, Striker didn’t trust Remington. He was too impulsive, and too eager to use his gun.

  “We can defend ourselves,” Melina said hotly. She took on a defiant stance and stared into his face. “I can handle a laser as well as any man.”

  Striker looked at her. They spent one night together, shortly after he slept with Sara. He knew her temper and he experienced her passion. “I know you can,” he said, “but I’d feel better if Remington stays with you.”

  Adam had been listening in. “No need Death,” he said to Striker. “My people friends. Come.” He began to walk toward the forest.

  The five men followed him slowly, their weapons slung across their shoulders. “No hostile movements,” Striker warned them. “This is a historical moment, we don’t want to be the ones who screw it up.”

  Adam raced way ahead of them; they could see him running down the dusty, old road that lead out of the ancient city.

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t forget the kindness we have shown him,” Chu said beside Striker, echoing his thoughts.

  There were at least a dozen of the giant birds; they looked almost like the ostriches Striker remembered seeing in zoos, with shorter necks and larger heads. Sitting astride them were men wrapped in furs, their arms bare, their heads covered by furry hats. It was not obvious if they carried weapons, but Striker wasn’t fooled by their appearance.

  A number of sleds, which were pulled by large rat-like creatures, with long legs and short tails, followed the riders.

  The caravan stopped when Adam reached it. The boy pointed toward the group of humans, waved his arms up and down. One of the riders separated from the caravan. Adam climbed onto the big bird-like steed, positioning himself behind the rider. Together they came slowly to meet the five men.

  “You stay here,”
Striker said to the others, removed his laser from his back and laid it on the ground. “I will go on alone. Like I said, don’t do anything stupid, but be alert.” He began walking toward the stranger on the giant bird.

  They both stopped when they were about ten meters apart. Striker held up both hands, palms up, hoping it was a gesture the other one would understand. Adam jumped from the unusual steed, waited until the rider spoke in the same melodious language Striker heard from Adam.

  “I greet you, Stranger.” Adam translated the words.

  Striker inclined his head. “And I greet you. May our meeting bring friendship.”

  Again, Adam translated. He seemed to have a little trouble with the second part of what Striker said, but apparently he translated it correctly, because the rider smiled and slid from his mount. He was almost as tall as Striker. His eyes were large and black, with a purple hue, his face handsome, without a trace of hair. Again, he said something. Striker waited for Adam to translate.

  “My…”Adam hesitated, shrugged, “…says you come from sky… you live in Old City.”

  Striker nodded. “We do.”

  The alien smiled. “You save… Adam… life. He say you good.”

  Striker smiled at the boy and said, “Thank you, Adam. Tell your friend he is welcome to visit us where we live.”

  Adam spoke rapidly to the alien, who answered him in a lengthy speech. The boy turned back to Striker. “Stasra say thank you. No time. Time of cold come… you death here… come with Stasra… go my home, my people.”

  “He wants us to go with him, to live with your people?”

  Adam nodded. “Yes, you come… no good here… death.” He shook himself, like someone who is cold.

  “We’ll freeze to death, is that what you mean?”

  “Yes, freeze. You come. Now.” Adam pointed at the sky where dark clouds were beginning to gather. “Palos come… soon… from sky… much.”

  “I’ll have to talk it over with my people,” Striker said. “Tell him that.”

  Stasra nodded when Adam told him. He mounted his steed and rode back to where the others were waiting. Adam walked back with Striker, talking excitedly, but Striker didn’t understand a word.

  * * * *

  It was Adam who convinced his human friends to accept the offer. He assured them that his people were peaceful and would welcome them with open arms. The Sras were the evil ones, the Sras murdered his family and they would murder the humans, too. Their safety lay with the Jnaar, Adam’s people.

  And so it was decided. The humans would go and live with the Jnaar.

  At least until the winter was over.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Alpha Colony

  The huge globe of Nu-Eden began to fill the screen, and even though Captain Cunningham was looking at it, he didn’t really see it. His thoughts were filled with the events of the last three nights. He had been in a state of constant arousal ever since Anina visited him in his quarters that first night. They copulated all night and part of the next morning. Only when Anina suggested they stop and have something to eat did his mind seem to clear a little. But only a little. She spent the next two nights in his bed. And now he was going down to the surface of Nu-Eden, against his better judgment and against Beringer’s and Starfinder’s advice.

  Looking at the redheaded woman, he could feel the blood boiling in his veins. He never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted her, even though she was married. That was the reason he took her up on her invitation to accompany her down to Nu-Eden.

  Her husband, Thomas McClary seemed to be oblivious to the fact that his wife spent three nights in another man’s bed. Cunningham’s brain was so befuddled that it never occurred to him that maybe McClary was aware of his wife’s infidelity. She told him that she and her husband had an understanding, but he didn’t even remember that.

  “Captain, are you alright?”

  Cunningham looked up at the man who spoke, his eyes slowly coming into focus. Wiping the perspiration from his forehead, he managed a smile and said, “I’m fine.”

  The man, one of the two marines Beringer insisted accompany him for protection, peered at the Captain. “You look tired, sir.”

  Cunningham waved a hand in dismissal. “Maybe I am. Don’t worry about it. Once we get down to Nu-Eden, I’ll be fine. Maybe I needed a few days away from the station.”

  “We’re about to land,” the voice of the pilot said, “please make sure your restraining fields are enabled.”

  A soft vibration shook the shuttle, then it was quiet. The door slid open and Cunningham stared at the lush vegetation outside.

  “Welcome to Nu-Eden, Captain Cunningham,” Anina said and laughed gaily. Her husband made a motion with his hand. “After you, Captain.”

  Cunningham rose from his seat and walked the short distance to the exit. He stood for a moment and took a few deep breaths. The air was humid and made him gasp.

  “Exhilarating, isn’t it?” Anina said behind him.

  “I’m not used to this rich and humid air,” Cunningham said. “Give me a moment to adjust.” He breathed deeply. “The fragrance, it is familiar.”

  “It’s the flowers,” Anina explained.

  “We had them in our park, before we…” he didn’t finish the sentence. The memory of a beautiful woman who claimed to be a goddess was not easy to suppress.

  He climbed down the ladder, stepped onto the alien soil. There were a number of small prefab homes not far away. Behind them a structure, that could only be a church. He remembered seeing churches like that back on Earth, a long time ago. He didn’t remember the last time he had been inside one. Two more buildings, both larger, a short distance away looked like meeting places.

  “That’s our hospital,” Anina said and pointed to one of them. “The other one is our mess-hall.” She took his arm. “Come, let us give you a tour.”

  He walked beside her like a man in a dream.

  “You show our guest around,” Thomas McClary said to his wife, “I have a few things I’d like to check out.”

  Anina smiled at him. “Alright, dear. I’ll take good care of the Captain.” Looking back at the two marines who were following them a few steps behind, she said, “You can tell your bodyguards to relax and take some time off, Jeremy. There is no danger here. This is our home.”

  “You heard the lady,” Cunningham told the two men.

  “We have our orders, sir.”

  “What’s your name, soldier?” Cunningham put an edge to his voice.

  “Orman, sir.”

  “Listen, I am the captain of the station. Everybody, including Commander Beringer and you, Orman, takes orders from me. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir, Captain!”

  “Good. So, put away your weapons and mingle with the locals.” Cunningham smiled to take away the sting from his harsh words. “Have some fun. That’s an order!”

  “If you don’t mind, sir, we’ll just stay close to the shuttle.” Orman said slowly. His companion nodded, gripping his weapon tighter in his hands.

  Cunningham shrugged. “If you so wish.”

  “You can’t force anyone to have fun, Captain,” she said and tugged on his arm. “Come, I’ll introduce you to Sister Angela.”

  There was a garden behind the church. Gravel crunched underneath Cunningham’s boots as they walked down a narrow path. He marveled at the mass of beautiful flowers in the large flowerbeds. A group of young girls was picking weeds behind a small grove of trees. Among them a tall blond woman. She turned her head when she heard them coming and got up to greet them.

  “This is the famous Captain Jeremy Cunningham,” Anina said.

  “Welcome to Nu-Eden,” Sister Angela said and smiled.

  When Cunningham looked into her blue eyes, he felt himself drawn to her. She was even more beautiful than Anina. She wore a loose robe that hid the form of her body, but it didn’t hide the slight bulge in her belly. She noticed his look and smiled. “You’re right, I am pregnan
t.”

  “Forgive me for staring,” Cunningham said, “I was under the impression you were a nun.”

  “Oh, I am.” She laughed cheerfully. “This is Paradise, Captain. A place where we love each other. Anything can happen here.” She turned and called to one of the girls, “Naomi, go get a pitcher juice for our guest. He must be thirsty.”

  Cunningham watched the pretty black girl walk toward them. She had her colorless robe rolled up to expose her slender legs. As she walked by, she gave him a big smile and said, “Hi, Captain.”

  “Let’s sit down for awhile and enjoy the sunshine,” Anina said, “you don’t have sunshine on that dreary station.”

  “No, we don’t.” Cunningham sat down on a bench and squinted against the bright disk in the blue sky. It looked different from the surface of a planet; there was no artificial shield cutting down the glare. The rays were warm on his skin, possibly harmful. He felt himself perspire underneath his uniform. “I guess you get used to this heat,” he said.

  Naomi came back carrying a tall pitcher filled with a yellow liquid and three mugs. She filled one of them and handed it to Cunningham, who gratefully accepted it. “Thank you,” he said and sniffed the mug.

  “Don’t smell it, drink it.” Sister Angela laughed. “It’s not poison.” She filled a mug for herself.

  He smiled, drank from the mug. The liquid tasted sweet, with a somewhat bitter aftertaste. It seemed to go right down to his genitals. “What is this?” he asked.

  The women were watching him over the rim of their mugs. Anina lowered hers, smiled. “Secret recipe. Sister Angela and her angels are brewing it in the basement of the church.” She laughed when she saw his expression. “Relax; it is peach-juice, freshly squeezed. This is harvest time on Nu-Eden.” She looked at Sister Angela. “I’ll be showing the Captain the pond tonight,” she said.

  Sister Angela smiled. “I understand.”