Desert World Rebirth

by Lyn Gala

  “Report!”

  “Epsilon seven through eleven, catastrophic failure. Epsilon twelve through fourteen, critical damage. Epsilon six, fifteen, nineteen suffered serious damage. Trivial damage shipwide.” With all the technicians all in their little boxes, Temar couldn’t even tell who had called out the report, but he watched as everyone’s expression turned somber.

  “Rula?” he whispered.

  “Shuttle bays,” Rula whispered back. She let go of his arms, and Temar rubbed them, the flesh already bruised from her harsh hold.

  “All teams, I want sections cleared. Nonessential personal to emergency areas. Possible ship fragmentation imminent,” Captain Helgen snapped out, and Temar watched as a good half of the screens on the big wall suddenly shifted to new figures and new images.

  Temar inched closer to Rula, waiting until she leaned close to whisper an explanation. “Last stage emergency in case of sabotage—all sections seal themselves off with emergency rations. Internal, controlled explosions blow the sections apart, turning the Brazica into sixty-five separate life pods. Each one can support two hundred people for three days.”

  “But Shan?” Temar looked at the screen, but whoever had been looping the image of the negotiation room had turned to other work. Temar’s breath caught in his chest. He had an irrational need to see Shan, even if it was a recorded image.

  “Sir, incoming message—one-point-one-three Hertz.”

  Captain Helgen touched his ear and nodded. Radios. They had radio communicators in their ears. Temar had noticed the tiny disks, but the idea of making a communicator smaller than a fingernail made no sense. How did they control it? Why would they even bother with technology like that?

  “Targeting, report all active weapons, visual only, display seven-three-alpha,” he barked.

  “Captain,” Temar stepped forward, ignoring the way Rula had tried to catch his arm to stop him, “what’s going on?”

  “Not now, Ambassador.”

  “Yes, now. You’re getting messages. Are they from Pentalia?”

  “Ambassador, I would dislike the amount of paper I would have to fill out if I ordered Officer Lish to tie you up and throw you in a closet. Don’t assume I won’t do it anyway,” Captain Helgen warned.

  “I don’t assume that. I do assume that you would intentionally leave me ignorant because you don’t think I have the rank or you don’t want to listen to my opinion.”

  “I really don’t want to listen to your opinion,” Helgen agreed, “but I know you have rank. Melton didn’t see it, but I’ve been watching these screens since you came onboard. Ambassador Polli never made a final decision without looking to you for confirmation, and one unhappy look would send him trying to change the deal. I had hoped you would keep up the ruse so that I could order you off my bridge, so no, I don’t have a problem seeing you as the commanding officer, Ambassador Gazer. I won’t, however, let you command my ship. Stay out of this.”

  “Is it Pentalia?” Temar demanded, ignoring the rest of the argument and even his own shock at the thought that someone watching them could come to that kind of conclusion about his relationship with Shan.

  “No.” Helgen was passing aggravated and moving into being angry, but Temar didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust any of these people, and having them not mention the terrorism problem hadn’t helped.

  “Who is it?” Temar asked as calmly as he could, but he could feel his face flush and his heart pound faster as his control over his overheated temper weakened.

  Reaching over, Helgen flipped a control switch so a voice came over the speaker. “AFP Cruiser Brazica, do you need assistance?” the voice asked.

  Helgen pinned Temar with a smug look. “It’s the Planetary Alliance, Ambassador Gazer.”

  Temar’s mouth fell open as the other side of this war appeared on one of the screens, a sleek ship with a blunt nose and short wings. “Perhaps you should allow me to handle this,” Helgen suggested.

  Temar had been rather successfully channeling Lilian and Naite and even Ben in order to bully everyone on the ship, but he suspected that not a one of them would have any idea how to react to this. He sure as hell didn’t.

  “Get me that weapons report,” Helgen shouted to his men, and Temar took a step backward, too confused to really have an opinion on the whole mess.

  Chapter 27

  “UNIDENTIFIED PA ship, pull out of AFP space or we will open fire,” Captain Helgen ordered. Temar frowned. If someone offered help, that wouldn’t be his first reaction.

  “With what, captain?” the voice asked. “This is PA Ship Phrike offering assistance, I have no interest in getting into a battle, but you look like you’ve taken significant damage, Captain.”

  “So you decided to drop by and offer yourself up less than an hour after a terrorist attack?” Captain Helgen demanded. “The timing is more than suspicious.”

  Surprisingly, the pilot didn’t even seem surprised to be accused of terrorism. “I’ve been monitoring Minga space for some time. Your ship was near enough to catch my interest, and when the explosion registered on my sensors, I immediately came to offer assistance, nothing more.”

  “And what sort of assistance are you offering? I don’t think you’d want us to commandeer your ship, and I doubt I could fit my whole crew on a scout ship.”

  “That wouldn’t be my first offer.” The pilot had some humor in his voice, which Temar found odd… as if he’d been dropped into another universe where their ship hadn’t been blown up. People should not be able to find humor under these circumstances. The pilot continued. “If you have a clear landing bay, I can bring the ship in and load the worst of the injured for treatment at the nearest PA facility. If not, I can tether. I have medical facilities for fifteen, twenty if your people really like each other. If you have damaged communication, I can relay a message to the nearest AFP ship.”

  “It’s not exactly survivors we need help with,” Temar blurted out. “We have attackers still on board, and they’re holding people.” Temar wasn’t even sure if his outburst would transmit, but Captain Helgen whirled around, fury etched on his face, and the voice from the other ship answered.

  “I have monitoring equipment and limited weaponry. I can help any way possible until tactical ships are on-site,” the nameless man in the PA ship offered.

  “Not necessary. Withdraw from AFP space,” Helgen ordered.

  “Contested space, Captain, not AFP.”

  “Withdraw, or when those tactical ships we sent for show up, you will be fired on.”

  “How long will the tactical ships take to get here?” Temar asked, his mind spinning as he studied the various information feeds on the wall of vids, all of them devoid of any images of Shan. “Can the PA ship monitor inside the room where Shan is?”

  Helgen’s spine stiffened. “Ambassador, leave the bridge.”

  Temar shook his head. “I’ll take any advantage I can if it helps us save Ambassador Polli.”

  “The Planetary Alliance probably sent Pentalia. We can’t trust them.”

  “I didn’t say that we should give this pilot the keys to the sand bike,” Temar snapped. “If he can give us information, I want it. And I really doubt the Planetary Alliance sent someone to attack us. I think there are plenty of groups, religious and otherwise, who would do that on their own.”

  The captain punched a control even as he sucked in a fast breath. He was surprised. Slowly, the man turned to consider Temar. “You seem to know more than I would expect.” Helgen sounded suspicious now, but Temar didn’t have time to worry about himself, not with Shan stuck in a room with a murderer.

  “I like to listen,” Temar said with a shrug. “Now, I want to find out what that ship can do to help us. Unless you have the same ability to scan inside the diplomatic rooms, you need to get him back on the radio.”

  Temar crossed his arms. The captain wasn’t intimidated, that was for sure. He glared daggers at Temar, but if he really thought that would deter Temar, he had an
other thought coming. Temar knew how to survive a whole lot worse, so he silently watched as the captain finally reached over and pressed a control. Temar inclined his head to the captain before speaking to the pilot. “PA Ship Phrike, can you get us an image inside a room if we give you the right directions to the room?” Temar asked.

  “Directions?” The pilot sounded briefly confused, but then he kept going. “My name is Verly Black, Ambassador. If you want eyes inside, I’m a scout ship. I can get you that.”

  From the way Helgen’s jaw bulged, Temar figured he was pretty close to ordering someone to stuff Temar in a closet. Temar moved closer and whispered, “Just take his data—don’t trust him.”

  The pilot answered him with that same oddly amused voice. “I don’t ask for trust, but if you have people in trouble, I’ll help. Consider it my contribution to universal peace.”

  Temar cringed, not realizing that the microphone would work so well. Maybe the root words in “microphone” did make sense after all. Helgen was giving Temar a disgusted look as he hit the control button again.

  “Ambassador Gazer,” the captain said in the carefully controlled tones of a man about to explode, “you are a guest on this ship. You do not decide tactics, strategy, or policy. You certainly don’t get to tell me how to handle myself on my ship, clear?”

  Knowing he’d pushed a little too hard, Temar nodded. “I understand, Captain. I really do. I understand that you don’t trust him. Personally, I don’t trust much of anyone. When I first met Shan, I certainly didn’t trust him, and he had to nearly kill himself before I could.” Temar stopped, fighting to find a way to heat this argument in a way that would shape it in his favor. “Captain. I communicated that poorly, but I was simply trying to say that I wouldn’t ask you to trust this man, especially not when you have a history here. However, I’m certainly not going to give up on a source of information.”

  Helgen didn’t answer, but his jaw did slowly unclench until he swung his chair around to face Temar. “How much tactical experience do you have, Ambassador?”

  “Tactical?”

  “Warfare, tactics, strategy. How much war is there on your planet?”

  Temar would like to say that his planet didn’t have war, but what had happened with Ben looked a lot like a war. Two sides had tried killing each other over resources. It wasn’t the sort of war Temar had grown up learning about in school, but it felt the same. Locked in the hidden base knowing that Ben had won… it felt a lot like the current disaster, only this time, Naite wouldn’t be riding in to the rescue. “I don’t know that you would say we have had a traditional war,” he said slowly.

  Helgen gave a weary laugh. “Which means you’ve seen the nastier side of war. At least you aren’t a complete novice. Hiding your rank turned out to be wiser than I would have thought. If we take his data, you have to recognize that he might be feeding us false information.”

  “To help Pentalia,” Temar said softly.

  With a nod, Helgen stood up. “You’re right that the PA doesn’t directly hire these terrorists, but there are connections.”

  Temar studied the man, wondering how many terrorist organizations his own government sponsored. If Natalie could be believed, not only did her government persecute people, but she was putting herself in a lot of danger to try and find a way out. He didn’t know who to trust at this point… other than Shan.

  “For all I know, he’s part of Pentalia’s plan,” Temar admitted, “but if he is, I’d rather keep an eye on him.”

  Captain Helgen looked at Temar for a long time. Behind him, Temar could hear the bridge workers typing on computers and the hushed whisper of dozens of people trying to be quiet. Then the captain nodded and turned back to the controls set into the table, turning on the communicator. “Well, Verly Black, we will provide coordinates and consider any data that you might relay as a favor to Ambassador Gazer. However, if your ship lands one grapple hook in my hull, if you threaten one crew member, or if you step one foot outside the lines of good manners, I will have our ships shoot you, assuming I can’t find one working missile to jam down your throat.”

  One screen enlarged, flickering with static for a second before a man’s face appeared on screen. His light brown hair was cut so short it almost looked like a shadow against his pale skin, and his dark blue uniform and square jaw gave him a stark appearance… until he smiled. He had a crooked smile, even when being threatened. “I never expected any less,” he said. Behind him, Temar could see a room filled with far more gadgets than the Brazica had.

  “Officer Pacet, send the coordinates of the diplomatic quarters.” Helgen stood up, faced off against Black, and said in a voice as rough as a sandstorm, “Give me one excuse, and I’ll shoot you myself.” The hostility went beyond the simple political hatred that Temar had heard in Helgen’s voice just seconds early. Something had shifted. Temar felt a flash of anger that he found himself on the outside trying to understand… again.

  “And if you give that order and I decide that you acted hastily, I will make sure your entire alliance pays,” Temar warned. The murderous look in the captain’s eyes warned Temar that the situation was sliding off balance. Too much heat on one side, he realized.

  Turning to face Verly Black’s image on the screen, he ignored a voice in his head that advised he should be polite to a stranger who had the decency to offer help. When manipulating glass, fire wasn’t polite. Here, he might be manipulating people instead of blown glass, but Temar could feel the same stress fractures as the piece threatened to crack without a little more evening out of the fire. “And if you are part of this, if you do anything to contribute to Ambassador Polli’s death, I won’t be merciful enough to allow him to shoot you,” Temar warned Black. “I will request an escort back to Livre and personally watch as the sandcats strip the flesh from your screaming body.” That might have been a little too much fire, because the pilot turned a stark shade of white.

  “Yes, sir,” he answered crisply. “Sir,” the man offered, “I truly did just come to offer aid, even before I knew the situation was so interesting. I give you my word that I am not involved with this attack in any way.” He wasn’t smiling anymore.

  “The word of the Planetary Alliance,” Captain Helgen said in a disgusted voice.

  “No, my word,” Black corrected him. “If you have people being held by terrorists, I will help in any rescue mission I can.” Volunteering to help with the rescue part of the mission was not the same as volunteering to capture or kill the terrorists, and Temar wondered if Captain Helgen had caught that. Probably. These people lived intimately with war in a way that Temar couldn’t imagine.

  “Where is the image you promised?” Temar demanded.

  “Calibrating now, sir.” Black turned his attention to his controls. While most of his attention did focus on the technology, he kept glancing up. Temar didn’t know what he found so interesting. Backing away from the captain, Temar took his place near Natalie and Rula. He didn’t trust the women, but they were more familiar, and Shan trusted that.

  “Picture coming now,” Black said. One of the screens enlarged, and Temar had a view of something that looked like spilled paint, red and blue and dark gray. He blinked, and it took him a moment to realize that there were four distinct blobs with red centers and bluish arms as legs, as though their limbs were approaching white-hot. It was an odd view.

  “Four life signs.” Black announced, and the picture changed. Now the figures were light gray against dark gray with sharp lines surrounding them. It shifted again to a solid blue that faded to white at the bottom of the screen and then again to a greenish hue, with gray people walking through the space. Now Temar could see that one of the four was on the ground, one sat on a chair and two were standing. Temar stopped breathing as he realized that even being able to see Shan didn’t mean he could do anything to help his lover. He’d never felt more helpless in his entire life.

  Chapter 28

  THE captain’s conference room was a long,
narrow room with a matching table made up of vid screens set under glass or clear plastic. The table would normally seat a good thirty people on each side, but the far side of the room was loaded with boxes, a shelf crammed into one corner with electronic bits that reminded Temar of Shan’s workroom. It meant that they couldn’t get around to the far side of the table at all.

  Captain Helgen sat at the head of the table, and Temar sat on his left, watching the streaming image from Black’s ship. Temar let his fingers rest against the image, the ache in his chest physically painful. “What do they want?” Temar asked softly. Pentalia hadn’t asked for anything, and Temar had thought that demands would be part of this process. If Pentalia demanded something, then they could move, they could act, he could demand that the AFP fill the demand. However, the silence left Temar helpless and increasingly angry.

  “Terrorists generally want to frighten the civilian population into doing something. If Pentalia were a criminal, he would have asked for money by now.” Helgen made a face. “But most criminals would be smarter than to go with this plan. Pentalia knows he’ll never get out of that room alive.”

  “Then what’s his plan? What does he want?”

  Helgen scratched his scarred hand and watched the feed for a second. Then he hit a control button. “Black, are you reading me?”

  “I’m here, Captain.”

  “Do you have any transmissions?”

  There was a silence for several minutes, and Helgen switched to rubbing his scars.

  “I have one time-stamped standard current minus ninety-eight minutes, automatic recording on gigahertz twenty-seven point seven-one.”

  “Shit,” Helgen said, the world almost a sigh.

  “Captain?” Temar looked over to Rula and Natalie, but both women had their lips pressed together. Natalie had her eyes closed and her head tilted in a pose that screamed her grief. “What does that mean?” Temar demanded, panic rolling through his guts.