The Sarran Plague (The Sarrans Book 1)

by A. C. Katt

  “Not playing that game. They get it with me and unlimited access to the genetic material of an off-chart psi. I get to play with the original; they get to take pieces as necessary. Just so they leave him alive enough to play with.” Bane winked and Septis turned green.

  “You are one sick fucker.”

  “Ah, the good doctor strikes again. Every Sarran Warrior has taken to that crude, guttural word. It doesn’t offend me, Septis. I am a sick fucker. I revel in it. You will bring him to me, here. A warrant will be issued for my name; Juraens will see to that. They will come. You make sure Mark is with you; or I will turn on you, and on our benefactor, and become a hero to my own kind. I can’t lose here, Septis. I’ve had too long to stack the deck in my favor.”

  Bane moved around Septis to access the space. “Let us see about setting up the diversion. Zyptz material is crude and developed for six appendages. A blow of this magnitude requires four hands to set up, using Zyptz triggers. I don’t like this enforced camaraderie any more than you do. If given better materials, it wouldn’t be necessary.”

  “You are hardly in a position to complain about materials, Bane. Every trace of explosive made in the humanoid zone is tagged and tracked. Diverted war materials are difficult to obtain. Our Alliance contact gave us enough to do the job. Any more was waste.”

  “Our Alliance Contact controls almost every smuggling ring in four sectors. Plus, he controlled the transportation of munitions during the war. He did this on the cheap. His generous nature had better be more forthcoming in the future,” Bane warned.

  “Where do you get your information, Bane? No one in our group knows which member of Alliance heads the resistance,” Septis shot back.

  “Resistance, my blow hole. You think this is a noble cause? That by enabling the Humanoid sector to create Sarrans all will be equal in our very own version of paradise? Ah…Septis, my fellow conspirator, you are here for noble reasons, I take it. If only our planet would share Warrior blood, truly join with other humanoids, the galaxy would be a better place and so forth. You fool. You’ve been reading Earthen literature, Utopia, Marx, or was it some Sarran fables from one of the times we almost obliterated all life on the planet. Was it the first, maybe the second? True equality exists only in fiction. The only place any equality exists in fact is on Sarran; and on Sarran its only place is in the Codex. The Codex, my stupid friend, is the only thing that is ever applied equally anywhere in this Goddess forsaken universe. As for the rest, cream rises to the top of skim.” Bane shrugged.

  “It is the natural order of things, I am skim, not cream, on Sarran, and I do not rise. So, I steal the cream and make it mine for my own purpose. I have no care for what comes, only now. You care about what comes, and yet the beer your noblesse oblige brews will endanger humanoid existence. And you think I’m excrement? Your bunch will bring about the end of humanoid civilization, leaving it to ten thousand cycles hence for the rabble of backwaters like the Earthen to rebuild. If they survive now that we have so conveniently pointed the Zyptz in their direction. Lord High Black Marketeer and Slaver or Savior had better be generous. I traded to him the only part left of a blackened soul to get this far.”

  “Our Alliance Contact will be generous, once you give him the means. Now let’s set the Goddess be damned charges and get out of here.” Septis returned with a moue of distaste. “I have yet to seed the Bridge and it must blow during the hearing.”

  “A true believer.” Bane shook his head.

  “Hisssssssssssss.” The sound made both jump. Bane peered into the shadows and a pair of slanted golden eyes peered back.

  “It’s the Beast. Pay no heed. Mark says it is a lower Earth form of life, of low intelligence. It forms an attachment to any humanoid that provides food and shelter as long as it can come and go as it pleases. It does manage to go anywhere it wishes. It also has remarkable bone structure, and flexibility.” Bane observed the Beast for a son as he held a coated lead for Septis. The Beast moved in and out of the few dull halos of illumination. Without warning, there he was between Bane’s legs, pushing. Bane moved his boot, shaking the Beast and sliding him toward Septis. The Beast sidled up to Sepsis’s trews, ass in the air. A horrific smell—sulfurous, amniotic—piss rose up from the trews. Septis sprang away.

  “What did he do to my trews?” Septis demanded through gritted teeth.

  Bane’s thin lips lifted in true amusement. This was turning out to be a very good rising. “He pissed on you, Septis. Are you so refined, you can’t recognize piss when you smell it?” With that, Bane turned, leaving both Tigger and Septis to their own devices.

  * * * *

  Mark Stern combed through the Sarran libraries. He did not trust the fates to separate him from Bane. Now that the block was released his one overwhelming emotion other than those feelings set aside for Juraens, was absolute terror. He feared Bane in a way he had feared no man before. Bane’s aura hung about his own as if a cancer ate away at his soul.

  Mark knew Bane was a desperate, dangerous man. However, Mark sensed that Bane was more dangerous to him than to any other being on this vessel. Despite reassurances from TeZarron and a psi shield from Juraens, Mark smoldered in his own misery. He needed his beloved but was prohibited physical contact prior to the hearing. His brain jumped about, unable to settle and concentrate. He knew what he needed, what he had not found necessary since his agency work. It was the only thing that took him to that center of peace deep inside his brain, provided the stillness that allowed him to focus enough to push all the voices away. The system rang, reprogrammed as an Earthen doorbell. He looked up. Mark refused to be startled by the abrupt interruption of speech during research. The bell allowed his thoughts to refocus before he had to reply. “Yes?”

  The panels parted and revealed Juraens clad only in his maroon leather trews, flicking a medium weight, suede-like flogger from right wrist to left palm. Mark’s eyebrow cocked as he anticipated the heat. He rose and crossed to Juraens to examine the whip. It looked to be about twenty some tresses, of maybe seventeen inches each. This baby would sting. The handle held a double braid in dark maroon and black with black knots and a short loop that was attached to a D ring on Juraens’s trews. Mark tried to control the intensity of his inevitable, inescapably fierce arousal.

  “How did you know?” Mark asked simply.

  “You are angry and unsettled and need centering. I know, Treasured, because I am your BondMate.”

  “It’s not often…”

  “But it is, at times, necessary for all of us who are off chart,” Juraens said.

  “You understand.”

  “Yes, my own, as your Bonded, it is my job. As your lover, it is my pleasure.” Mark untied the drawstring of the bottom half of his replicated scrubs. He knelt before his Beloved in presentation. He heard the whistled call of the tails just before the blow. Juraens arm was measured. The weight of the blows steadily increased, pushing his mind out of his body. He imagined Juraens cock in his mouth or better still, in his tight ass. But alas, if he embraced his new culture, that was forbidden until Triad. Until then, they had this. His shank was hard. He flew higher than he ever had.

  Juraens shouted one word, “Come.”

  Mark shot across the lab onto the wall. He sank into a heap. When he woke, he found himself on his cot, Juraens arms holding him tightly. Juraens kept stroking his hair and arms. He had tended to his back while Mark slept.

  “Beloved, I needed that,” Mark sighed into Juraens’s shoulder.

  “I also needed. I needed to mark you as mine. I didn’t know, but I was in such fear whenever you and Bane appeared together. There is something evil there,” Juraens replied.

  “I learned on Earth that evil exists, even if there is no devil.” Mark pulled Juraens closer and closed his eyes.

  Sometime later, tired, sated and a bit sore, Mark awoke to an overpowering smell, so strong it saturated every fiber in the chamber. Juraens leaped up, placing himself between Mark and the entrance. When he was su
re there was no immediate threat, he looked back at Mark, canting his head.

  ::The stench?:: Juraens asked mind to mind.

  ::That, Beloved, is the stench of pure unadulterated cat piss. Since you claim the Beast is sentient, I would say he sent a message. It is up to us to find out what he is trying to say.::

  * * * *

  Sarran Calendar: 9435.B116 9:00 trine

  Earth Calendar: July 26th, 9:00 A.M.

  The Bridge was tranquil, too quiet. The familiar hum of muted voices and electronics did nothing to calm the unease in the pit of Jonal’s belly. Some of it was the imminent tribunal. He expected and accepted that, but there was something else. Jonal had a prenatural sense of danger, a type of military clairvoyance that had ameliorated more than one battle during the Zyptz war from defeat to salvageable and more often, from salvageable to outright victorious. One lesson drilled into both his and Tonal's heads during their risings as cadets was that battles were won before they were fought. Everything was timing and preparation. Both he and Tonas were aware that security for this outing had been compromised before they had left Sarran. It was one of the reasons they had relied so heavily on Mark Stern. Now, with all of High Command on Brightstar participating in the Tribunal, it didn’t take the buzz in his head to tell him to shore up defenses. Tonas had left for the hearing. His blood was necessary for the ampoule. Septis was with the Board, as were Saxon and Lunas. Third tier command officers were on deck to take the helm, communications, and weaponry for the brief time that all of the high command would be absent. Jonal didn’t think it would be enough. Despite the escort of the rest of the fleet, the fems were quartered on Brightstar, putting everything the Sarrans had to lose in one place.

  Jonal, going with his gut, made a decision. “Ensign.”

  “Yes, Admiral Prince, sir.” The man was flustered. Jonal hid his smile under a cough.

  “Hail the Captains of Redmoon, Bluemoon, and Whitemoon cruisers. Get them on the private command channel, triple scrambled in tertiary code. I’ll take it in the StarRoom.”

  “Yes sir, right away sir.” The ensign saluted. Jonal nodded in return; and traversed the bridge over to the StarRoom.

  The doors parted and Jonal crossed to the closest of the two command and control stations. “Ensign, do I have my line?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Thank you, that will be all for the moment,” Jonal responded.

  “Command Codes: Zero, one, one, four; Section Three, Color Red; Private Communication Security Level Red Magma Red. Gentlemen.” Three voices came alive and acknowledged his hail. There were no holographic images, nor recording devices permitted at this degree of security.

  “As you are aware, there are proceedings being held on Brightstar today concerning myself and Admiral Tonas. Due to the delicate nature of the proceeding, Commanders Saxon and Lunas were both tapped for Tribunal. This leaves Brightstar in a vulnerable position for a period of five to six tines today. With the fems aboard, this is an unnecessary risk. I want all of your experienced seconds on the Brightstar within the tine. Leave only a skeleton crew on your vessels. As you know, the prize is here.”

  Jonal continued, “The Bridge must be fail-safe. Engineering, and the crew decks where the fems are housed must be defended to the last Warrior. I want as many as you have. I apologize for the necessity of this request. I believe they will attempt entry through the old lightslip dock. There is a stairwell there to the Bridge. Have men posted on that stairwell, at the entrance to the StarRoom and Quarters.”

  “Captain Kavack of Redmoon, as the most senior Captain, I am giving you temporary command of the Fleet beginning at 09:30 tines until such time as you are relieved by either myself, Admiral Tonas, or any combination of Commanders Saxon and Lunas, Psi-Security Officer Juraens, or High Lord Prince TeZarron. Any questions?”

  “Kavack, here sir. We have TeZarron in Fleet?”

  “Yes Kavack; that is need to know information only. Jonal out.”

  Satisfied that he had done his best to cover all his bases, as Mark was wont to say, Jonal departed the StarRoom and headed for the Tribunal.

  * * * *

  The Brightstar Hearing Room smelled both new and dusty, like a new car too long in the dealer’s lot. Jonal and Tonas ran a tight ship. The Brightstar crew imbibed a bit, kicked up a ruckus in port now and then, but seldom required any disciplinary action other than a confinement to Quarters or a night in the brig to dry out. Jonal’s arrival coincided with TeZarron’s, and the Elder viewed the room with a simultaneous sneeze and grimace of distaste.

  “It doesn’t get much use, High Lord. I apologize for neglecting to send crew to freshen up.” Jonal marked the obvious lack of minimal preparation. “I’ll call down to Maintenance; we have 30 mots until the scheduled start.”

  “Your mind roils, Admiral. No apology necessary.” With a small grimace of distaste, TeZarron waved his hand over the chamber. Jonal watched as the dust dissipated. He had forgotten that TeZarron was telekinetic. His mind had blanked quite of number of things this half rising.

  “Maintenance is not necessary. We need a few pitchers of water and some vessels for each of the claimants. The computer will provide the rest,” TeZarron said.

  Septis, Saxon and Lunas’s entry made a rumble. Jonal shook himself out of the fog and into a mode of steely determination. Mark and Juraens escorted Anya, who held a very disgruntled Tigger. Tonas pulled up immediately behind them. The last to enter the room was his nemesis, Flagen. Flagen looked confident and that made Jonal’s hot blood boil. Flagen attempted speech to communicate with both Tonas and Anya, and only Mark’s hand at his shoulder stopped Jonal from hurling himself across the room to break Flagen’s fat neck once and for all. The Tribunal participants took their places. The hearing would begin. Wait a mon, Jonal thought. Where is Bane? A heavy, ominous feeling clutched at his gut.

  TeZarron began, “As Dr. Bane is delayed, we should begin the procedure with the first claim. Dr. Flagen, you may begin.”Jonal heard himself object to Flagen giving first testament.

  Mark shouted, ::Pay attention,:: directly into Jonal’s mind, but his mindspeech was not working.Jonal heard Saxon and Lunas’s voices as background static. His muscles went taut and his head reeled as he felt the jaws of a steel band encased his temples. He jerked up his head as he heard Mark’s voice. Jonal eyes remained unfocused. The Tribunal viewed the holograph; he knew the testimony was crucial. He turned to Tonas who sat across the room, he concentrated all of his energy to pull out the words from his brain. Someone or something had set a psy trap. “Tonas, bomb, here,” Jonal finally managed to say.

  He heard TeZarron give orders, “Juraens, Mark, escort the Princess to Quarters. Saxon, Lunas, to the Bridge. Tonas, to Engineering.” The room emptied, leaving him with Flagen and TeZarron. “Jonal, Flagen gave evidence against Bane, Septis fled. I have to find him. Can you tell me anymore about the attack?”

  Jonal forced the words from his throat, they came out hard and quick like spit, “Blockage, Psi-block; specific to clairvoyance. Must have prior knowledge. Imminent. Ship. Read me, sssir.”

  TeZarron answered, “I can’t do that, Admiral, I don’t know what kind of lock is in place and I have no intention of ruining one of the finest military minds of this generation.”

  “Put pre-cccautions in ppplace, Bridge.” Jonal stuttered to get it out, although the more resistance he applied the easier it became.

  “I’m aware,” TeZarron answered. “You’ll get a commendation for this if we manage to get out of here without getting our asses wiped. Can you get that toad scum, Flagen to the Brig without inflicting damage?”

  * * * *

  “TeZarron, they are about to hit Engineering.”

  TeZarron stopped and turned to Jonal, with the immediate realization that the young Admiral had pushed through the mind lock.

  ::Tonas, evacuate Engineering near lightslip wall!:: Jonal shouted.

  “Engineering Report, Alpha Alert, imminent boarding…”
He began shouting more orders as additional snippets of his clairvoyance seeped through the mind lock.

  “Saxon, Lunas, Report from the Bridge. You have additional Warriors, fucking use them!”

  “Anya, Mark, get to the Med Bays, expect a large influx of casualties.”

  Jonal turned and paced back to the dais. “Juraens,” he snapped into the communicator, “Find Septis and haul his ass to the Brig. We’ll deal with him later.” Tonas was the planner, Jonal, the crisis manager. This was a crisis. There was no doubt Jonal was in charge.

  “High Lord, could I presume on you to check the bays?”

  “Yes, Admiral, immediately, I presume you go to the fems?” TeZarron replied.

  “Yes, High Lord. Dr. Flagen, you’re with me.” Jonal strode to the back of the room.

  ''Communications, Jonal here.”

  “Sir, yes sir.''

  ''Ensign, just get me Kavack.” Goddess the Ensign is barely out of short pants, too young to handle a Coms Deck in the middle of a Hot Zone.

  “Kavack here, Admiral.”

  “Damage report.”

  “The explosions were internal to Brightstar, sir. There was no incoming.”

  “Kavack, watch our ass. I expect visitors.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Saxon, Lunas, report,” Jonal barked.

  “Stern gave us the Beast to sniff out explosives. One was hidden in the Communications Console, another two in Quarters. All are now disarmed, Zyptz manufacture, if I am not mistaken, sir. The Beast isn’t yowling, so I think we found the lot. Security is still doing a sweep, but the men have more faith in that animal’s whiskers than all our tech. It’s pissing Security off, sir.”

  “Let them do their job, Commander.”

  “The first explosion was confined to the empty cargo bay adjacent to the jump engines. It was a small device with more boom than bite, sir.The ship shook. Jonal checked his instruments. “I suspect the ones that went off in engineering will be more deadly.”

  “The Bridge was a diversion. Keep us at High Alert, Saxon, Jonal out.”