by T. J. Quinn
THE END
SURVIVING ZEVUS MAR
The Aledan Series Book 3
Christine Myers
GTQ LLC
Orlando, Florida
Copyright © 2017 by Christine Myers
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
GTQ LLC
PO Box 540375
Orlando, FL 32854
www.thesios.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
SURVIVING ZEVUS MAR /Christine Myers -- 1st ed.
ISBN
CONTENTS
The Searching Star
The Deserter
The Physician's Woman
Hopes, Dreams, and Nightmares Come True
Escape
Of Desperate Times
On the Run
Dubious Rescue
Diversions
Unwilling Hero
Bittersweet Homecoming (I)
Bittersweet Homecoming (II)
Rebuilding Begins
An Amiable Rapport
Spilt Memories
Journeys
The Hard Steps
A Dark Secret
Long Nights and Longer Days
Three Silent Graves
The Last Tregan
The Key
Horizons
Oltarin
EPILOGUE
About the Author:
Excerpt of Psion Factor
CHAPTER ONE
The Searching Star
The ship's corridor was quiet except for the low hum of the engines vibrating gently through the structure from two decks below. After five years, Hankura didn't notice. He was more intent on the two hours he planned to spend with his wife before her shift started, two hours before the star ship entered the Zev system and made preparations to put into orbit around Zevus Mar. Hankura grinned as he approached their quarters and pressed the access button to enter. He sensed that Chelle was awake and waiting for him. He felt her wanting him, urging him to come to her. The door whooshed open, and he stepped inside just in time. His body was responding to Chelle's vivid mental promises. As his mind mate, she knew all the most delicious ways to bring him physical pleasure, and her eagerness to have him return the favor was the most arousing.
He stopped in the doorway to their bedroom, pausing just to look at her. She smiled seductively under the warmth of his gaze as she read his thoughts. Her blue eyes sparkled back at him in admiration. Those blue eyes had captivated him from the first moment they'd locked gazes back on Earth—blue eyes and thick auburn hair that hung to her waist. Now as she half sat up in bed, it spilled over her shoulders in waves on to the pillows and covering her soft rounded breasts.
Her eyes never left his as he approached the bedside, unzipped his coverall and stripped it off. Her smile was soft and inviting when he sat down beside her and began toying lovingly with her hair. He felt her appreciation of his strong jaw line, broad shoulders, and taut, muscular body. His skin felt warm to her touch. She ran her hands over his shoulders and chest, basking in the feel of him. The sensations of her pleasure in touching him melded with his own enjoyment of her touching him.
In the beginning, he could barely wait to make them one, but now they had learned together to savor each look, each kiss, each caress. First, he tasted her earlobe, trailing soft butterfly kisses along her jaw line until he found her mouth with his. He felt an electrical charge jolt through his body as her mouth moved against his and she pressed her body against his.
He could see her desire in his mind, and it heightened his own. He felt her need for his touch even as she responded to his needs. Passion took them into a universe of their own, plunging them into a pool of water that symbolized the melding of their spirits and the depths of their passion. The water bubbled warm in the center of the pool, spraying steadily higher in the ecstasy of their physical union. No other woman could ever satisfy him so completely, and through the bond of their minds, he knew she felt the same about him. Not only did he know it; he felt it. She was that much a part of him, and he loved her almost more than life itself.
Hankura woke with a start and a deep, pervading sense of alarm. Chelle was gone, but he expected that. She was on duty in the infirmary, third shift supervisor.
Fear. He felt it reach out and grip him from several sources on the ship and even from Zevus Mar itself. He jumped out of bed and pulled a clean coverall from his clothing bin. Without even considering why he moved to the weapons cabinet and took his and Chelle's lasers out. As he ran out into the corridor, the general alarm began to sound.
Regulations called for him to remain in his quarters until he received orders otherwise, but his bond to Chelle was far stronger than his sense of duty. On the other hand, he was Chief Medical Officer, and he knew he would be needed on duty in sick bay. Though no announcement had been made, he knew the Searching Star was under attack by a warship that had them outgunned. A distress call was being sent out with a sense of futility. The nearest star base was two weeks away. The next announcement over the com system confirmed all that Hankura had sensed.
"All defense personnel to their stations, medical personnel to sick bay, all other personnel---general quarters. This is not a drill. Repeat. This is not a drill!"
A moment later, the ship pitched suddenly, and Hankura flew head first against the bulkhead. He first saw a blinding light, then blackness. When he next became aware, he didn't know whether ten seconds or ten minutes had passed. He only knew that Chelle was in danger. His head throbbed, so at first, he didn't realize he was floating weightless in total silence. The soft, steady hum of the engines that he had known for five years had stopped. No power, no artificial gravity. He pushed off what used to be the ceiling, launching himself toward a row of hand holds along the corridor. He caught one quickly, thanks to hours of drills between planet falls and raced hand over hand toward sick bay. Chelle needed him. They were hurting her . . . They? THEY?!? Who were they? He sensed no one but Chelle as he launched himself into duty module.
Two hulking men in unfamiliar uniforms held her struggling between them. Hankura, look out ... two others behind you! He twisted and fired on them, but they dodged his beam. He paused a split second to take more careful aim, then stopped as Chelle's fear gripped him. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a hand weapon held aimed at her temple. Sweet Mother of Life, anything but that!
Slowly, Hankura opened his hand and let his weapon drift away then held his other hand away from his body in surrender. For a horrifying moment, the soldier grinned with malice and squeezed ever so slightly on the trigger of his pistol. Hankura gasped knowing the stark terror he felt was reflected on his face. The soldier laughed in satisfaction. "Take him."
At that moment, Hankura began to consider just how he was going to kill him---not knowing how he might get the chance.
The two other soldiers grabbed his arms and bound them behind him, then bound his ankles together. Then they drew him toward the module exit. She-ell, I love you. I'll get you out of this, I swear.
I know you'll try, my love. Be careful. Please don't let them hurt you.
Hankura shook his head as they shoved him into the corridor. He wasn't worried about what they would do to him. He was worried about what they could do to her. He had never felt more helpless in his life.
Their progress was hindered in the main corridor by floating bodies, wounded, dead and dying surrounded by globules of blood floating. The dead and dying were simply shoved aside as the soldiers steered his weightless form through the maze, but the wounded ... the wounded were slaughtered on the spot before Hankura's eyes. Men
and women who had been part of his life for five years; they were a tightly bonded group as close as most families. As Hankura cried out and struggled to stop them from taking aim as still another of his friends, a blow smashed into the side of his head, and his horrifying awareness ceased.
"Hankura. Hankura wake up." the sound of an urgent whisper reached through the veil of darkness, and he slowly opened his eyes. "Are you all right?" He recognized Cran's worried voice.
"I'll live for a while, yet," he muttered. "Where...?" He knew the answer before Cran could put words to his thoughts, but he didn't interrupt his friend as he answered. Normals always found that unsettling.
"On a Tregan warship. Remember nine months back---they took Lux Fe. Well, they just took Zevus Mar and us, too. We've just landed."
"Goddess!" Hankura swore. "They killed them---just killed them for no reason, murdering bastards."
"Who? Who did they kill, the women?" Cran demanded.
"No, yes... I mean the wounded---men and women."
"Luran? Chelle?"
Hankura shook his head. "They're alive ... Damn!! Fucking, murdering bastards!!!" the telepath raged madly.
"What? What is it, Hankura?" Jabe demanded.
“They’re raping her!” Hankura choked. "Fucking bastards! I'll kill you. I'll kill you." he screamed. Tears slid down his face, and he murmured over and over again. "I'll kill you. I swear I'll kill you. She-ell, I swear I'll kill them."
The others asked no more questions but echoed his vehement oaths.
CHAPTER TWO
The Deserter
"Here they come!" Farlo screamed and dropped the mortar round he was about to load. His eyes glittered with excitement in anticipation of the kill. He raised his ion rifle and took slow, deliberate aim at the first of three women. He intended to pick them off one by one. Then he would aim for the last moving target, a lone man carrying a small child under one arm.
Raider Orin Hart looked on with a combination of horror and outrage at what was happening. He was disgusted by the obvious pleasure Farlo took in killing, yet he couldn't look away. Orin prayed the women and man could run fast enough while he fought inside himself about what part he should play in the events before him.
Before Farlo could fire, the fair haired woman hit him in the chest with a wide beam from her hand laser. The shot took out most of his heart and lungs in the blink of an eye. The four refugees ran toward the small hovercraft about twenty meters from the low dome of their underground dwelling. It was a desperate, last-chance effort to escape the Tregans' attack.
Clenching his jaw until it ached, Orin kept praying that they would make it in time. He watched indifferently, however, as more of his comrades in arms fell in the deadly exchange of weapon fire. All he cared was that he was not one of them.
"No!" The word escaped as a guttural sound from deep in his throat. He saw two of the women cut down barely a meter from the craft. Then the man fell, dropping the little boy as gently as he could as he was dying.
Orin grunted in rage as he saw Damon taking aim at the little Zevian woman. She was completely defenseless as she paused to snatch up the child in mid-flight. Something snapped in Orin Hart as he realized she and the little boy would be killed, too.
Without considering the consequences, he raised his rifle for the first time since his company began its attack on the desert agricomplex about an hour before. He fired again and again ... on his own comrades.
The bronze skinned woman stumbled into the open craft, dodging rifle fire with the little boy still clutched in her arms. When the last man fell, Orin stood alone on the small rise. He watched tiny craft as it slowly rose into the air and shot off toward the west, disappearing over the horizon.
After he had taken time to bury the two women and the man, Orin decided to follow the woman and the boy. He knew they wouldn't make it across the desert alone in their badly damaged craft, and neither one looked fit for hiking.
The sun was high in the sky, nearing its red phase when he started his trek across the barren desert plain of Zevus Mar. Except for the lush desert agricomplexes; most of Zevus Mar was desert. Other than a large cache of Verlian crystals used to make the fuel cells that powered most of the current space crafts, there was little else to attract Tregans to illegally raid the tiny desert planet.
There was nothing Orin wanted. The totalitarian Tregan Government had forced him into the Empire's army and made him come to this godforsaken place to kill innocent people for those valuable rocks. Only Orin Hart had never killed anyone until today. Unfortunately, the Tregan Commander would be highly displeased by his actions . . . Enough so to provide Orin with an eminently slow and painful death---if they ever caught him.
As he was trudging out across the desert from the lush, green agricomplex, pushing steadily on---far into the desert, Orin wondered which of his reasons for leaving pushed him on with more determination. Was he more afraid of dying at twenty-four, or that the woman and boy wouldn't make it to the next oasis? When he found their downed hovercraft abandoned in the middle of the desert just after dawn, he realized it was the latter.
Sometime later, he spotted them in the distance, still nearly an hour's walk from the next complex. Considering that they would see only the Tregan uniform he wore, Orin approached cautiously. The child didn't sense his presence until his massive two-meter frame cast a formidable shadow over the two of them. A look of pure terror contorted his elfin features, and the little boy sobbed, tugging desperately at the bare arm of his fallen companion.
"Nalina! Nalina! He's here. He found us. Please---get up. We have to run." In desperation, the tiny boy reached for the laser on the belt slung loosely around Nalina's slim waist. But Orin clamped a big hand around his wrist and plucked the weapon from the boy's hand.
The boy landed a startling blow to Orin's cheek where the visor of his combat helmet didn't cover, then started to kick and scream in three languages for all he was worth. He couldn't wrench free from Orin's tight but gentle hold on him.
"I won't hurt you. I won't hurt you," Orin repeated in accented Aledan, one of three predominant languages used in trade on Zevus Mar. Gently, awkwardly, Orin cuddled the sobbing child against his shoulder, speaking softly to him in soothing tones like his own mother used to do with him when he was little.
With the child still clutched under one arm, Orin leaned forward and put his hand to Nalina's throat to feel for a pulse. It was faint but steady. Judging from her sun burnt skin, exposed by a frothy gown and dainty sandals, Orin figured she was probably overcome by heat exhaustion and exposure. She was clearly not accustomed to the physical hardships of the desert as he had become since his forced induction into the Tregan Army.
He sat the little boy on the ground beside him and knelt at the woman's side. He turned her over carefully, cradling her dark head on one arm, and brushed the dirt from her mouth and nose. Reaching for his canteen, he sprinkled a few drops of precious water on her parched lips. As she became conscious, she swallowed a few sips of water then lost consciousness again.
"Can you walk little one?" Orin asked the boy.
He nodded. "You talk funny," the boy remarked and paused to study him curiously through large violet eyes. "And I can't read you either. I should be able to read you like I could my father and co-mothers and Nalina."
Orin shook his head as he understood what the child meant. "I was bred to resist telepathic mind scans and most types of mind probing. I'll tell you about it later. Right now, we've got to get your friend out of the sun. Since you can walk, I'll carry her, and we'll go to that agricomplex. See it over there?" Orin pointed, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. "We should be able to find water and shelter there."
"You didn't come to kill us?" the child asked suddenly. "No." Orin shook his head grimly. "I quit being a soldier. I'm sick of the senseless killing. I just want to help you and her if I can."
"What's your name?" the boy asked, watching him lift Nalina's slender form into his arms with no gre
at effort.
"Orin Hart. And yours?"
"Lanimer."
"Well, Lanimer, let's go." Without another word, Orin started walking. Lanimer had to triple-step to keep up with the big man, but he made no complaints. Although the young telepath couldn't actually read Orin's mind, he was still somewhat sensitive to the big man's vibes. Lanimer felt that he could trust him. Even when Orin knew Lanimer meant to kill him, he didn't hurt him afterward. A real Tregan would have killed him.
Almost an hour later, Orin gently set Nalina down on the grass in the shade while he went in search of water about the deserted oasis. He left little Lanimer with her to keep watch.
There was no pool near the charred hole where the dwelling had once stood, yet the grounds were still lush and green. Orin knew there must be a well somewhere. With just a pint of water left in his canteen, he wished he had taken the scanner from Farlo's pack before he fled. It certainly would have helped. Too late now, he would just have to look.
In a little while, Orin gave up temporarily and went back to where he'd left the woman and the boy. He shrugged off his full pack and jacket and threw down his heavy helmet, revealing a head of thick, tawny hair. Before he left again, he took up the three weapons---two hand lasers and his ion rifle. Orin felt pretty certain that Nalina would take his presence the same way Lanimer had a first, and he wasn't in the mood to have a hole burned through his back.
After nearly an hour of walking in a wider and wider perimeter around the bombed out buildings, Orin finally found the sheltered mound that held the artesian well's auxiliary pump in a half buried concrete bunker.
There was a heavy metal door without a lock at its entrance. Orin moved toward it cautiously, pressing his ear to the cold metal as he drew his blaster. When he flung open the door, the light streaming in from the sun revealed a cool, damp room about three by four meters. There were a large pump and a mass of pipes at the far end, but space enough in front of the apparatus to provide adequate shelter. Orin quickly found the water outlet and filled his canteen, hiding his two extra weapons before he returned to Nalina and Lanimer.